Duty-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book II ]

29

The sound of a knock at the door startled Uachi out of his fitful sleep. His hand fell upon the dagger he kept beneath his pillow, the same one he had taken from Lord Zellar so many years ago. It was his talisman, his reminder that he could survive, could fight, through anything. He curled his fingers around the hilt and opened his eyes just a crack, peering around at his darkened room before moving. There was a tiny, narrow window set high on the wall, permitting just enough light from the hallway without that he could see the layout of the room in the dark.

He saw no unfamiliar shapes, no movements. His cat, Farra, did not like being behind closed doors; she was nowhere to be seen.

He eased himself into a seated position and looked around again. Then, before placing his feet on the floor, he dropped his head over the side of the bed to check beneath his cot.

Nothing.

In one motion, he got to his feet. He moved more slowly than he might have on any other night. He was bleary-eyed and thick-headed from his conversation with Mhera, and he'd come back to his room exhausted in the lightening hours of the night, hoping for at least three hour's sleep before he'd need to be up again.

He was wearing his pants, but had left his tunic draped over the chest at the end of the bed, along with his leather armor and most of his weapons. With the dagger concealed behind his back, he turned the doorknob and pulled the door open a crack, the adrenaline that had flooded him on his waking sharpening every sense.

It was Ealin.

The hall outside Uachi's room was dim, lit only by dusty, waning spirit globes set high along the walls, and the fall of her night-black hair cast her countenance into shadow. She tipped her face up toward him, but he could not see her properly in the gloom. "Uachi?" she whispered.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. Out of nowhere came an irrational fear: were the marks of his weeping, which had been two hours or more ago by now, still plain on his face? It had been bitter enough to have Mhera see his moment of weakness; he did not relish the thought of another woman peering into the dark corners of his mind.

"I'm scared." She had her arms wrapped around herself, as she always did, and she lowered her face, her hair falling to curtain her cheeks. "I don't like to be alone."

Uachi dropped the hand that had been holding the dagger against the small of his back. He saw her glance catch the weapon, saw her shrink back. "Don't be afraid," he said, opening the door a little more. "I didn't know who it was, and one can never be too careful."

"Do you always sleep with a dagger at hand?"

"Always." He slid the dagger into his belt. She had told him why she'd come, but he did not understand what she expected of him. "What do you want, Ealin?"

She met his question with silence. Standing there in the hallway, she looked utterly alone. Uachi could not help the wave of pity that swept over him. He was not a man given to such an emotion, but he pitied this friendless young woman. At last, realizing she was not going to answer him, he stepped back from the door. "Do you want to come in, then?"

Ealin stepped inside at once. Uachi closed the door behind her. There was not much room in his bedchamber; he had no more furnishings than Ealin did in hers. He watched her as she looked around. Someone must have found her some fresh clothing; in place of the coarse brown robes she had worn when they'd found her, she was wearing a dun dress, and the scent of soap lingering about her told Uachi she'd had a bath, too.