With a clattering of hooves on flagstones, Uachi's horse cantered into the courtyard to the side of the imperial palace. The horse knew what he was about and turned immediately toward the stables, where he was met at once by Master Callin.
"Aye, there's my handsome lad," said Callin, reaching for the horse's rein. He gave Uachi a good-natured smile. "The horse, of course."
Uachi raised a brow and made no other response to Callin's joke. Ealin was still seated in front of him. She had hardly moved and had not spoken at all through their long ride back from the Mage's Keep in the south of the city. "A little help?" Uachi said.
"Of course. Miss, if you please?" Callin reached out to lend Ealin some support as she teetered in the saddle. "Careful, now. Not used to riding horses? You'll be a bit sore tomorrow if you've come as far as the south of the city."
Gracelessly, the dark-haired young woman slid down from the horse into Callin's arms. He set her on her feet while Uachi smoothly dismounted, giving the horse a pat that was less affection and more tolerant respect.
"I'll see to the horse," said Callin, leading the beast away. "Good afternoon to you both."
Uachi gave a noncommittal grunt in response, then turned his attention to Ealin, who stood stiffly in the center of the courtyard, looking around with wide eyes the color of hazelnuts. "Are you all right?"
She looked at him, brow knit in confusion.
"I mean, do you feel okay?"
Ealin nodded.
"He's right, you know; you will feel it tomorrow. I remember my first ride. Couldn't walk the next day." Uachi gestured toward the way out of the stable courtyard, indicating that Ealin should precede him. She began to walk with obvious reluctance, and he noted how frail she was. Her hollow cheeks and thin arms bespoke either terrible neglect, or hardship, or both. "Hungry?"
She darted a guarded look his way.
"Come with me."
He led the way to the palace kitchens in complete silence. Ealin walked more or less at his side, sometimes trailing a couple of steps behind. Uachi did not let her out of his sight. He could tell from the very way she held herself in his presence that if he looked away for an instant, she would bolt. And, while he was not particularly invested in whether Matei got answers out of this woman or one of the other apprentices from the Mage's Keep, he did not want to get a tongue-lashing for letting a "guest"—they all knew she was a prisoner—get away.
In the kitchens, the ancient Starborn woman who was always flitting around Mhera was busily chopping vegetables. Uachi paused in the doorway, automatically reaching out an arm into the space behind Ealin—not touching her, but preventing her from slipping back and away. "Are you making lunch?"
The woman looked up. She was clad in black, with a severe-looking head covering pinned over her steely gray hair. She fixed Uachi with such a look of pointed distaste that he felt like a wayward child found out in some mischief. No sooner had he identified this creeping feeling than it shifted to an intense and thorough dislike of the one who had caused it.
"For Her Grace, yes," said the wench.
"All right, well, don't let us get in your way," Uachi muttered. He turned to Ealin and pointed to a plain wooden chair that stood against the wall. "Sit down. I'll find us something."
"What is that girl doing here?" asked the woman, her knife still hovering where she had stopped it in midair above the vegetables.
"Sitting down, in a moment," Uachi said. "Go on, Ealin, sit."
Looking between Uachi and—Gally, was it? Gilly?—Ealin crossed the room and took the seat Uachi had pointed out. She folded her hands in her lap and frowned at her feet.
"The man with bitter wit poisons none but himself," said the woman with a sniff. She returned to her chopping.
Uachi hated pithy sayings like that. Arrogant people used them to make themselves sound superior when they could just as well say what they meant; "shut up" would have served Uachi fine. "Who are you, again?"
Her glance was brief and cutting. "Madam Gella. I am Her Grace's servant, and I will thank you to show me some respect."
"Ah. Well, I'm His Splendor and Glory's good sense, and I don't really care how you treat me." Uachi began banging around the cupboards, searching for something that could be made edible. "Now, if you don't mind, I would like to get on with ignoring you."
"I have never in my life heard such rudeness within the walls of this palace!" Gella cried.
"Well, that beggars belief, since it's a dreadful long life you've had from the look of you. You must have heard a good bit of rudeness in all your years."
Gella fumed. She slapped her knife down on the counter, took up her tray, and left in a huff. Uachi wondered what she intended to do with those vegetables, half-chopped and raw.
"Do you know her?"
The ranger turned in surprise. As he had traded barbs with the old woman, he had forgotten that Ealin was there. He had the presence of mind to feel slightly ashamed of how he had treated Gella; he did not make a habit of pretending to feel or think things he did not, but he had thus far made an effort to be more or less polite to Ealin. "No," he said. After a moment's hesitation, he added, "I'm not quite as nice to my friends."
He was not quite sure, at first, what he was hearing; after a moment of confusion, he realized it was a laugh. Ealin covered her mouth with her hand and looked down at her lap. "I'm sorry," she whispered, but another giggle punctuated the apology.
Uachi felt a slow grin spreading across his face. "You surprise me," he said. "I thought you would have some tart words for me just then."
Ealin shook her head. When she did, her locks parted, and he noticed a cheap brass bead winking in the darkness of her hair. The humor faded as quickly as it had come on, and she looked anxious again.
"You don't need to be afraid." Uachi brought down a sack and opened it. Oatmeal. There looked to be enough for two servings, barely. He knelt, clattering on the lowest shelves for a pot. "I have seen a lot in my time, Ealin, and Matei u Rhodana is one of the least frightening men you'll meet."
"Is that his name?"
"The emperor? Yes."
"He frightens me."
Having found a pot, Uachi stood again. He went to the pump in the corner and worked the handle to fill the vessel with water. "No more than I do, I should think."
Ealin did not respond at once. When she did, she surprised Uachi yet again. "More. Much more."
Uachi let the pump handle slip from his fingers and gave Ealin a long, searching look. Then, frowning, he carried the pot over to the hearth and hung it on the kettle arm. He needed to stoke up the fire, so he applied himself to this task as he considered a response. But there did not seem to be anything fitting to say, and after a minute had passed, and then two, it was too late to say anything at all.
For a while they remained in companionable silence, Uachi going through the motions of building up the fire, boiling the water, and then adding the oatmeal so that he could make a thin porridge. He rattled through the cupboards searching for sugar or honey or something else to put in with the grain, but found nothing but salt. It would have to do.
When he looked back around some time later as the oats were bubbling merrily away, he saw that Ealin had fallen asleep, her knees curled up to her chest and the soles of her feet resting on the seat of her chair. She looked terribly young, thin almost to the point of sickness, and, even in her sleep, she looked afraid.
He did not wake her until he had portioned out the oatmeal into two bowls. Although he was a big man and quite hungry himself, he gave her the larger portion; she clearly needed it more than he did. He settled himself on the floor near her chair with his back against the wall and whispered, "Ealin." When she did not stir, he said her name again, a little louder.
She sat up straight at once, her limps taut, and was half out of her chair before she seemed to remember where she was. Then, rather than springing into action to run, she shrank back into herself.
"Your meal is ready." Uachi held up the bowl.
Looking from the bowl up to Uachi's face, Ealin seemed prepared to reject the food. In the end, she accepted the bowl with reluctance and began to spoon up the porridge. As she lifted the spoon to her mouth, the wide sleeve of her habit slipped down her wrist. In the shadow of the cuff, Uachi saw the pale ridge of an ugly scar.
Without comment, he turned to his food. He began to eat the poor meal without pleasure.
"Do you live here?" asked Ealin.
Uachi looked up at her again and judged her expression. She was not looking at him. He thought, at first, that she must be playing a game; after all, his heritage was no secret. Like almost every other Arcborn man or woman in Penrua, he wore the marke writ boldly across his cheek. But her face seemed free of any humor at all, and he remembered that there had been Arcborn servants in the palace once.
"Now I do, I suppose," he said. "But I didn't always." As he turned his attention back to his meal, his gaze caught again on the scar at her wrist. It was no mark from a burn or an accidental slip of a knife; it looked deep, and he noticed the thin ridge of a second scar crossing over the larger one.
"Where did you live before?"
"I lived a long way from here." Uachi took another bite of porridge, then used his spoon to scrape the last thin slop from the bowl. "In the Duskwood."
"The Duskwood," Ealin echoed.
"Yes. It's a forest. Have you not heard of it?"
The young woman shook her head. "I have not been outside of Karelin before."
"Still, you must know of the Duskwood. Even I did, as a child, well before I did any traveling of my own, and I was born in the Holy City."
Ealin had stopped eating with about a third of her porridge left in the bowl. "Is that man—the man with the brown hair—is that man the Glorious Emperor?"
Uachi pushed himself to his feet and stood looking down at Ealin, head cocked. Again, he searched her face, but there was nothing but frank innocence and curiosity in her features. "I don't think so. Not much glorious about him. He likes to think he's got a handle on things, but they haven't gone naming him anything grand like that yet. I think that's something for the history book writers to handle, don't you?"
But it was Ealin's turn to look puzzled. "Then where is the Glorious Emperor?"
"Woman, you're going to have to help me out. I don't know who this Glorious Emperor is." She could not mean the emperor who had most recently held the reins of Penrua. There had been nothing glorious at all about that man; the Arcborn rebels had called him the Corpsemaker, a rather different name.
"The savior of Arc. The one who will return things to the way they should be. The bringer of order and light. You must know, surely; does he not live here in the palace?"
Uachi looked at her blankly. "I've heard a lot of rubbish, but I haven't heard this."
Ealin frowned. "Emperor Korvan, the Sovereign of Souls—? How long did you live in the Duskwood, to not know of him?"
Feeling as if the wind had been struck out of him, Uachi muttered, "Apparently not goddess-damned long enough."
I might have mentioned that there are four POVs in this book: Matei and Mhera, of course, and two surprises. The first was Kaori.
Here's your second surprise POV, my friends: everyone's favorite grump, Uachi. :3 I hope you enjoyed seeing through his eyes. Spoiler alert: the next chapter, coming Sunday, will also be an Uachi chapter!
What did you think of this sparring match between Gella and Uachi? I had waaay too much fun writing that.
Thank you for reading! I appreciate every moment you spend with me here in the Holy City more than you can know.