The sun stood low in the western sky when Melish pulled up his horse in the long shadows of the city walls. "This is as far as we can take you, Liha. We have the king's business to attend to and can't bring a stranger into the fortress. But there's always a need for stable boys. With your hand for horses, you might find work there or ensure a place as an apprentice in the king's smithy."
Liha frowned. He didn't plan to work in the stables or as a blacksmith. But he had learned that Melish was a stern leader and hard to convince to change his mind. So he slipped from the horse's back and untied his blanket. Berim dismounted to place a hand on his shoulders. "Well met, Liha-isha-Arashin. May our paths cross again in brighter times."
"Thank you, Berim, for everything. I'll watch out for you."
Melish chuckled and shook his reins. "At least he's easy to spot in a crowd. Let's move."
He clicked his tongue and rode away towards the guard's gate. Berim winked and pressed Liha's shoulder before he mounted and took the rein of the mare Liha had ridden. The horse seemed confused, shook her head, and trotted away with the others.
On his own again, Liha watched the group reach the smaller gate between two narrow towers west of the main gate. Before he entered, Berim turned around to wave. Liha waved back. In the few days he had spent with them, he had learned to admire the tan warrior's quiet efficiency and friendly nature. He suspected there must flow more than a little Tannarí blood in the man's veins, but he'd never dared ask. His colleagues teased Berim because of his black hair and dark skin no end, and Liha didn't want to add fuel to their game. His mother had been a northerner, and he knew too well how hurtful words could be, even when spoken in jest.
With a sigh, he turned towards the main gate. The mighty limestone walls of Penira looked forbidding in the evening light. But the sun painted the steep roofs of the fortress towering above the town in shades of gold. This was the famous castle of the house of Diun, home of Mirim, the sun king. Liha had never been this far south, but he remembered his sisters gushing about the castle's legendary beauty. A dark cloud of grief overcast his mind. Of his family, he would remain the only one to see the stronghold of the kings.
Liha pushed the troubled thoughts aside and picked up his bundle. His legs were stiff, and his back was sore from the riding. The walk would help him feel more human again. Besides, he wanted to reach Penira before the gate closed for the night. Until the end, he had hoped Melish would change his mind, but Berim had told him sticking with the warriors wasn't an option. To join the king's men, he had to apply on the official recruitment day. Only those who passed the test and were admitted to the training could become regular members of the king's forces.
In front of the gate, he passed a train of merchants. Dust from a long day on the road clung to their gear, and exhaustion slowed the step of the oxen and horses drawing the wagons. Only the drivers seemed to cheer up at the outlook of a night behind the city walls, a roof over their heads and a mug of ale with their dinner. At least the men and women talked about this while a few children ran between the wagons, excited at the prospect of arriving.
No one paid attention to Liha, who overtook the slow-moving train and reached the gate well ahead with a group of craftsmen and women. The guards at the gate weren't interested in them. Three men wearing the king's colours, the golden sun symbol prominent on their breastplates and sky blue coats covering their shoulders, stood to the side, chatting amongst themselves. One with a beard even wilder than Melish's scrutinised Liha but didn't address him. For a moment, he wondered if he should ask the guard about recruitment day. But Berim had already suggested it would be on the day of the full moon, so he lowered his gaze and walked on.
"Hey, you." The harsh voice made him jump, and he whirled around, his hand reaching for his weapon. But the bearded soldier didn't look at him. Instead, he strode towards a slim girl or a young woman. With her dark skin and long black hair carried in a braid, she reminded him of Berim, but that's where the similarities ended. She wore a long black skirt and a black shawl over her threadbare jacket. The guard blocked her way, and she glanced up at him.
"How can I help you?" She pulled her shoulders back and offered the man a friendly smile. Liha, leaning against the beams of the oaken door, knew he would have trembled at her place.
The guard's eyes narrowed. "What's your business in town, Tanna?"
"I'll deliver a message and will be gone by tomorrow."
"Ha. You know begging is prohibited for the likes of you? Do you have the means to pay for your stay?"
The young woman pushed one of her sleeves back to show the guard a collection of silver bracelets jingling on her wrist. The man's eyes widened.
"Do you know her?" A heavy hand landed on Liha's shoulder, and he tore his eyes from the scene. The second guard stood too close for comfort, but he kept his hand from reaching for his dagger.
"No, I've never met her." Liha cursed himself for drawing attention and tried to look innocent.
The soldier seemed unsure how to proceed, but when the merchants reached the northern gate, he shoved Liha aside. "Move on, boy. Can't have you block the entrance, can I? Nothing to see here."
Liha lowered his head and marched on, although he hadn't blocked the way. This wasn't the time to engage with the guards. Not for a mysterious girl who seemed to have more wits about her than himself.
He passed beneath the iron portcullis and through the wide arch of the gate, shivering in a sudden cold draft in the passage. A guard by the inner archway waved him on. Liha took a few steps, but then stopped in awe. Had the citadel been impressive from the outside, it was overwhelming from the marketplace he now stood in. The western side of the steep limestone cliff carrying the king's castle glowed orange in the evening light while deep shadows swallowed the eastern part. As close as the white castle walls were, they seemed forbidding and unreachable.
A man pushed him aside, grumbling something about dumb peasants, and Liha shook his amazement. First, he had to find something to eat and a place to spend the night. He crossed the marketplace, where traders closed down their stalls and packed their goods into crates and baskets. Even closing down, the Penira market was many times the size of the one in Salar. His stomach growled at the sight of vegetables and loaves of bread stowed on carts. Berim had shared his rations with him at noon, but he was hungry and owned nothing to buy food with. After the incident at the gate, begging seemed out of the question. For the first time, he questioned his idea of travelling to Penira. He might have asked for work in a hamlet or village near his home and could now sit by a fireplace with a hot bowl of soup and a chunk of fresh bread.
Liha lengthened his strides. An empty stomach and a foreign city weren't enough to break his resolve to find revenge for his family.
"Hey, stop it, you thief. I saw what you did."
The shout interrupted his thoughts, and Liha turned around. Near the last stall, a stout trader held a lanky youth by the collar of his blue striped shirt. The captive kicked out and clawed at the merchant's arm. "It wasn't me. I'm innocent. Why don't you blame that thieving Tanna over there?" He pointed at the young woman from the gate who stepped back at the accusation, a deep frown etched on her face.
An old woman cradling a basket of vegetables stepped up to the trader. "Don't listen to him. I saw him snitching your apples. The girl was nowhere near your stall."
The man nodded. "I know, and it's not the first time this one tried to put the blame on someone else." He shook the struggling culprit by the neck but lost his grip. The youth dashed to the left, laughing, while the merchants cursed.
The commotion died down fast, and the dark woman passed Liha with quick steps to follow the road towards the citadel. He shrugged and went the same way. Narrow stone buildings lined the street here. Most had a shop on the ground floor with two or three stories of living space above. Several windows were lit, and Liha wondered how many people lived in this city. The street was busy with people hastening home after a workday. No one had eyes for Liha, and even the Tanna only drew cursory glances.
They hadn't come far when ahead, three figures dashed out of an alley to the right and circled the young woman who had gained some lead on Liha. One tried to catch the end of her black scarf, but she danced out of his way. "Hey, the Tanna is a mover. Shall we see if she can dance, too?" Liha recognised the striped shirt of the thief from the market. Laughter from his friends cheered him on. The passers-by ignored the scene.
The thief grabbed the woman's sleeve and yanked it back. "Hey, what's this? Silver bracelets?"
His victim tore free and sprinted away, the three young men in pursuit. Without a second thought, Liha dashed after them into a narrow lane to the left. When the group reached the stairs at the end of the deserted street, he had almost caught up. The leader of the three, a lanky youth in a dirty brown shirt, tackled the woman at the top of the stairs. She fell to the ground with a thickening thud.
"Stop it, leave her alone." Liha's shout made the gang turn around. He pulled his dagger while he climbed the steps.
"Oh, her majesty has a lover." The market thief mock-bowed before he brandished his own blade. "You want to fight, lover boy? Then come here."
Liha reached the top step and circled his adversary in the small square. The brown-shirted guy sat on the struggling woman's back while the third member of the group watched with a lopsided grin, cleaning his fingernails with a knife.
"Let her go. She's done nothing to you."
The three youths laughed and the apple thief lashed out with his long blade. Liha hopped aside, but a hot flash of pain sliced across his forearm. He bit down on a cry and grated his teeth. What had he thought about entering this fight? The three were stronger than him and more used to violence. Then a picture of his sister's rape flashed through his mind, and he attacked, roaring his hatred at every kind of injustice.
He lunged at the thief, who pirouetted out of his way and crouched into a defensive stance. Liha did the same, and they swayed left and right, searching for an opening. From the corner of his eyes, he saw the woman twist from her capturer's grip and run. The man followed her, cursing.
But he had let his attention slip for too long. The third guy slid behind him, tripped him, and sent him down the stairs with a blunt kick into his ribs.
Liha dropped his blade when his forehead hit a step. His vision blurred.
The last thing he heard before his world sank into darkness was a sharp female voice and the receding clatter of feet on cobblestones.
(2038 words)