Desert Rising (18 page)

Uncle Tarik caught him before he went up to bed. “The viceroy's son stopped by while you were rescuing Ava, looking for you. He told us you'd broken the arm of one of the other trainees and threatened the man, but said he was smoothing things over.” Uncle Tarik raised his eyebrows.

“It was the man who kidnapped Ava,” Kadar said, feeling fury wash over him. “I should have snapped his neck.”

Uncle Tarik nodded. “Severin said there shouldn't be any trouble over it. It is fine to come back to practice the beginning of the week.”

Kadar shook his head. There it was again—­Severin being cold and officious around the other men but stopping by to personally reassure Kadar.

Kadar doubted he'd return to practice. He was becoming more and more disgusted with what he'd seen of the men of Illian. He didn't want to train and befriend men who had no honor.

Kadar wished his uncle good night and went to his room, exhausted by the day's events. He sat down on the edge of his bed and pulled off his tunic, then unlaced his boots, tugging them off. He heard a quiet knock, and Farrah slipped through the door and closed it behind her.

She sat beside him, grabbing his hands in her own.

“Kadar,” she breathed, kissing his hands. “Thank you. I can't tell you, can't say enough. You saved her.”

Kadar shook his head. “I wasn't fast enough to stop them from hurting her, and Aryn healed her,” he told her.

“I know,” she said, looking at the floor. “But she has a chance of surviving now. As long as I can keep her safe.”

Kadar had been thinking about how to keep Ava safe, and he took a deep breath.

“Farrah, Ava can't stay here,” he told her, and she looked up at him, her hands still clasped in his own. “Those men, they'll resent her for what happened. And we can't keep her penned up inside forever.”

Her eyes widened. “What can we do?” she asked softly. “She has nowhere else.”

“Sulis told me something when we met. She said if you were in danger, we could send you to Grandmother, in Shpeth. I told her you'd never go, but if you sent Ava . . .” His voice trailed off as she shook her head.

“No. The journey would be too hard. She wouldn't have friends there,” Farrah protested. “How do you even know your grandmother would take her in?”

“I know she would. And Ava would be recovered before we sent her. It is almost winter—­the best time to ride in the desert. She is young, she would make friends, and my aunt will treat her like a daughter.”

Kadar watched her work through it and realize it was the best solution. Her eyes filled with tears.

“I don't want to lose her again so soon,” she whispered, and bent her head.

He put his hand under her chin and tilted it so she looked into his eyes. “You won't be losing her; you'll be sending her out to apprentice,” he told her. “I began training at her age and left home to travel with the caravans just a ­couple years later. Ava is strong.”

Farrah smiled, and he bent down and kissed her. She pressed her face into his shoulder, shivering. He wrapped his arms around her.

“Can I stay here tonight, with you?” she asked.

“Come here,” he said, lying down on the bed. She lay down with her body pressed against him, and he drifted off to sleep with her at his side.

I
T WAS A
week before Ava was strong enough to travel. Tarik posted extra guards around the house and had them follow Farrah on errands in case the third-­circle men attempted to retaliate. In the meantime, Aunt Raella arranged Ava's passage to Shpeth with a cousin who was returning to the desert with her two children. Kadar paid a temple acolyte in gold for a permit from Parasu allowing the Forsaken girl to travel.

Ava herself had been uncharacteristically quiet when she'd woken from her healing sleep. When Farrah sat on her bedside and told Ava she would be going to the desert, she'd mutely shook her head.

“Ava, they could come after you again,” Farrah said gently. “We can't protect you here.”

“I don't know anyone there,” Ava whispered. “I don't know any desert talk.”

“Grandmother and Aunt Janis know both languages,” Kadar reassured her. “Most of the ­people in Shpeth do. You'll learn
Sanisk
quickly. You won't be alone.”

“You can be free there,” Farrah said, stroking Ava's hair. “You can draw and be whoever you want to be, like before, when Father was alive. No danger, no fear. Kadar says there are other girls there your age, so you won't be alone.”

Ava jerked her head from Farrah's hand and rolled over, facing the wall.

“We'll write to you all the time,” Farrah said pleadingly. “If you hate it, you can come back, and we'll find another way to hide you. Just give it a chance.”

“Fine,” Ava muttered sullenly. “Send me away. I don't care.”

When departure day arrived, Ava barely looked at her mother and Farrah as they helped her into the wagon and kissed her good-­bye. Aunt Raella's cousin spoke to her kindly and helped her settle in among her children, but Ava stared at the floor mutely. Uncle Tarik settled a pack of drawing pencils and paper in her lap, and got a small smile from Ava as he kissed her on the cheek. She didn't look back as the wagon jolted forward.

Farrah waved until the wagon was out of sight, tears streaming down her face. Kadar put an arm around her shoulder as the rest of the crowd dispersed, leaving them alone on the street.

Kadar turned as a throat cleared behind him. Farrah wiped her eyes on her sleeve and lifted her chin when she realized the intruder was Severin Vicent.

Severin removed his hat and bowed to Kadar, who gave a small bow back.

Farrah turned to leave, but Severin held out a hand to stop her.

“Excuse me, Mistress,” he said politely, “I was wondering how your sister was. As the minister of travel, I saw that you had been granted a permit for her and wanted to make sure she got off safely.”

Farrah bristled, clearly unhappy at his interest, and Kadar grabbed her hand to stop her from breaking the nose of one of the most powerful men in the city.

“She's left the city,” Kadar said, before Farrah could reply. “No one will hurt her again.”

Severin looked uncomfortable and wrung the hat in his hands. “I did not mean to distress you,” he said to Farrah. “It was a vile act, and I'm sorry she was harmed.”

“Sorry she was harmed?” Farrah asked, voice cracking in anger. “Yes, the city is so sorry, that the men who hurt her have not been punished. The Viceroy is so sorry, that nothing has been done to protect other girls like her. Your apology counts for nothing.”

Kadar held his breath, knowing Severin could have her arrested just for talking to him rudely. But Severin looked down, his lips pursed and brow furrowed.

“I have a little sister, and I can't imagine how I would feel if she were harmed like yours was,” he said. “Kadar opened my eyes when he broke Eaton's arm. I didn't know Forsaken girls were being harmed. I've tried to get my father to act, to make better laws, but he won't. He won't change laws unless the Voices of the Deities tell him to. He's afraid they will replace him if he acts without their consent.”

Kadar shook his head. “How could you not know girls were being hurt?” he asked. “You tried to force Farrah to your bed the first day I was in town.”

“I wouldn't have forced her,” Severin said, sounding offended. He looked at their disbelieving faces and smiled wryly. “Truly. It's never been difficult to find women willing to bed me. I wanted her, but she could have refused.”

“So it's my fault, for not saying ‘no' loudly enough? Could my sister have refused?” Farrah asked. “Neither of us had a choice.”

Severin stared down at his rumpled hat and smoothed out the fabric, as though he were searching for something to say. He hesitated, then looked back up at them.

“My parents trained me to believe that Forsaken are liars,” Severin said slowly. “When Forsaken would complain to the city guard about harassment, when they reported kidnappings and deaths, my father would say that it was other Forsaken doing it, and they needed to control each other rather than bothering law-­abiding ­people. When they'd accuse circle men, my father would tell me ‘there's no honor among liars and thieves.' ”

“And you believed that?” Kadar asked.

Severin nodded. “Of course. The Forsaken were originally cast down because they were evil. It is written in the scriptures. But I've been wrong. I am a powerful man in this city. I used to believe Forsaken women came to my bed because they wanted me, or because they wanted the extra gold I could give them. Now I don't know; maybe they went because they didn't think they had a choice. Maybe I forced them simply by being who I am.”

“Why are you here?” Kadar asked bluntly, not ready to give up his anger toward the man.

Severin gave him a crooked smile. “Partially to ask you when you will return to practice,” he said. “But partially because I'm ashamed that I didn't see what one of my own trainees was doing and wanted to apologize for the harm done. I wanted to let you both know that Eaton and his friends won't be accepted in the training practice, or out in good society again. And if I hear about others tormenting Forsaken, they will be shunned as well. You've opened my eyes to this injustice, and I won't shut them again.”

Kadar stared in surprise at the Illian man, then extended his hand to him. Severin stood a little straighter as he reached out and firmly shook Kadar's hand.

“I'll be there next session,” Kadar said.

“You'll have no trouble with the other men,” Severin assured him. “They approve of your actions. Good day, Kadar, Mistress.”

Kadar and Farrah watched him stroll down the street, then stared at each other in shock.

“Do you believe him?” Kadar asked.

Farrah thought for a moment, shaking her head as though to clear it.

“Oddly enough, I do,” Farrah said. “I think he has always lived in a cocoon of privilege. I was the same way before my family was displaced. I never thought of ­people below me.”

“I still don't trust him,” Kadar said. “but if Severin pushes Forsaken rights, we will have a powerful, first-­circle champion.”

Farrah nodded, her eyes serious, then flung her arms around his neck.

“You were right,” Farrah said, kissing him soundly. “Sometimes justice is swift. When even the Viceroy's son sees the Forsaken as human, change must be around the corner. If we can give Ava justice, if we can stop other Forsaken girls from being hurt, maybe there is some purpose to all this pain.”

Kadar held her close, not caring if other ­people on the street saw him. He would give comfort any way he could. He wanted a better life not just for Ava but for Farrah as well. He wanted her by his side, as an equal, and would risk censure to make that happen.

T
HE
C
RONE HELD
the summons in her hand, staring at it. The winter Curia wasn't for another month, but Aryn's Herald had called the meeting early. No doubt prompted by the wind funnel that had swept one of the conjoined warehouse district buildings out to the desert without touching the structures around it.

She tried to think about what this had to do with her. Had Ivanha encouraged the perverts? No. Had she sheltered them? No. So it might not be about them at all; it could be that Aryn had inadvertently killed one of her high-­ranked acolytes purifying the place and needed to announce a replacement. Aryn's Ranger, who ranked as high in Aryn's Temple as Ivanha's Mother Superior, could channel the amount of power it would take to destroy a building.

Then why did the Crone have such a sense of unease? And why was Aryn taking these actions now, when all of Illian had known about these perversions for some time?

Rumor had it that the desert girl's twin was somehow involved in it all. Severin had been seen talking to the Templar, who looked grim. The Crone was feeling as though things were out of her control. It was an unsettling feeling, especially since it hadn't happened in a decade. And even then it had just been an incident to cover up. Now, it seemed events were leading toward a battle between the deities. And if they did go up against one another, their mouthpieces might be destroyed. Not an appealing thought.

The Crone shuddered and put the letter down. She dressed carefully in her best silken robes, the ones with lace piping. It wouldn't do for the others to see her anything less than serene.

Her
feli
was waiting for her at the door of Parasu's altar, and she looked at him with a mixture of chagrin and irritation. If he had appeared, it could mean he had been summoned, as she had. And if the deities were listening this closely to their mouthpieces, the uneasy truce they'd kept for generations could be coming to an end.

The Herald and Tribune were already waiting, the Herald pacing and the Tribune sitting at the table, his face inscrutable. As the Crone seated herself, her
feli
pressed against her, and she saw that the others'
feli
sat close to their paired as well. She shivered slightly and looked down.

The Templar arrived, looking harried. He, too, had a
feli
trailing him.

“What is this about?” he asked, still standing. “There is much chaos in the city, thanks to Aryn, and I don't have time to chat.”

The Herald turned to face him. “This is about the Forsaken, Templar. Their numbers have been swelling, and Aryn wants to know why.”

He took a step back. “Is this about the girl in the warehouse? I'm sorry if you lost a Ranger in Aryn's little power quest, but the Forsaken haven't any deities. Their very name tells us; they've forsaken the deities and been cast down.”

The Herald pulled her lips back in what was more snarl than smile. “We didn't lose anyone. Our riding master handled Aryn's will, not our Ranger, and she is recovering nicely. She was back at her duties before the week's end,” she said scornfully.