Drenai Saga 02 - The King Beyond the Gate (3 page)

Why am I creeping about? he asked himself. I could have come in here beating a drum. He stifled a chuckle, found the jewel box in its hidden niche below the window, opened it, and poured the contents into a black canvas pouch tied to his belt. At full value they would keep him in luxury for five years. Sold, as they must be, to a shady dealer in the southern quarter, they would keep him for barely three months, or six if he did not gamble. He thought of not gambling but it was inconceivable. Three months, he decided.

Retying his pouch, he backed out into the corridor and turned …

Only to come face to face with a servant, a tall, gaunt figure in a woolen nightshirt.

The man screamed and fled.

Scaler screamed and fled, hurtling down a circular stairway and cannoning into two sentries. Both men tumbled back, shouting as they fell. Scaler hit the floor in a tumbler’s roll, came to his feet, and sprinted left, the sentries close behind. Another set of steps appeared on his right, and he took them three at a time, his long legs carrying him at a terrifying speed.

Twice he nearly lost his footing before reaching the next level. Before him was an iron gate, locked, but the key hung from a wooden peg. The stench from beyond the gate brought him to his senses, and fear cut through his panic.

The Joinings’ pit!

Behind him he could hear the sentries pounding down the stairs. He lifted the key, opened the gate, and stepped inside, locking it behind him. Then he advanced into the darkness, praying to the Seniles to let him live for a few more of their jests.

As his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness of the corridor, he saw several openings on either side; within, sleeping on straw, were the Joinings of Silius.

He moved on toward the gate at the far end, pulling off his mask as he did so.

He was almost there when the pounding began behind him and the muffled shouts of the sentries pierced the silence. A Joining stumbled from its lair, blood-red eyes fastening on Scaler; it was close to seven feet tall, with huge shoulders and heavily muscled arms covered with black fur. Its face was elongated, sharp fangs lining its maw. The pounding grew louder, and Scaler took a deep breath.

“Go and see what the noise is about,” he told the beast.

“Who you?” it hissed, the words mangled by the lolling tongue.

“Don’t just stand there—go and see what they want,” Scaler ordered sharply.

The beast brushed past him, and other Joinings came into the corridor and followed it, ignoring Scaler. He ran to the gate and slipped the key in the lock. As it turned and the gate swung open, a sudden bellowing roar blasted in the confines of the corridor. Scaler twisted round to see the Joinings running toward him, howling ferociously. With shaking fingers he dragged free the key and leapt through the opening, pulling the gate shut behind him and swiftly locking it.

The night air was crisp as he ran up the short steps to the western courtyard and on to the ornate wall, scaling it swiftly and dropping into the cobbled street beyond.

It was well after curfew, so he hugged the shadows all the way to the inn, then climbed the outer trellis to his room, rapping on the shutters.

Belder opened the window and helped him inside.

“Well?” asked the old soldier.

“I got the jewels,” stated Scaler.

“I despair of you,” said Belder. “After all the years I spend on you, what do you become? A thief!”

“It’s in the blood,” said Scaler, grinning. “Remember the Earl of Bronze?”

“That’s legend,” replied Belder. “And even if it’s true, not one of his descendants has ever lived a less than honorable life. Even that Nadir spawn Tenaka!”

“Don’t speak ill of him, Belder,” Scaler said softly. “He was my friend.”

2

T
enaka slept, and
the familiar dreams returned to haunt him.

The steppes rolled away from him like a green, frozen ocean, all the way to the end of the world. His pony reared as he dragged the rawhide rein, then swung to the south with hooves drumming the hard-packed clay.

With the dry wind in his face Tenaka grinned.

Here, only here, was he his own man.

Half-Nadir, half-Drenai, wholly nothing—a product of war, a flesh and blood symbol of uneasy peace. He was accepted among the tribes with cool courtesy, as befitted one in whose veins ran the blood of Ulric. But there was little camaraderie. Twice the tribes had been turned back by the strength of the Drenai. Once, long before, the legendary Earl of Bronze had defended Dros Delnoch against Ulric’s hordes. Twenty years ago the Dragon had decimated Jongir’s army.

Now here was Tenaka, a living reminder of defeat.

So he rode alone and mastered all the tasks they set him. Sword, bow, spear, ax—with each of those he was skilled beyond his peers, for when they ceased practice to enjoy the games of childhood, he worked on. He listened to the wise—seeing wars and battles on a different plane—and his sharp mind absorbed the lessons.

One day they would accept him. If he had patience.

But he had ridden home to the city of tents and seen his mother standing with Jongir. She was crying.

And he knew.

He leapt from the saddle and bowed to the khan, ignoring his mother, as was fitting.

“It is time for you to go home,” said Jongir.

He said nothing, merely nodded.

“They have a place for you within the Dragon. It is your right as the son of an earl.” The khan seemed uncomfortable and did not meet Tenaka’s steady gaze. “Well, say something,” he snapped.

“As you wish, lord, so let it be.”

“You will not plead to stay?”

“If you desire me to.”

“I desire nothing of you.”

“Then when shall I leave?”

“Tomorrow. You will have an escort: twenty riders, as befits my grandson.”

“You honor me, lord.”

The khan nodded, glanced once at Shillat, and then walked away. Shillat opened the tent flap, and Tenaka entered their home. She followed him, and once inside, he turned to her and took her in his arms.

“Oh, Tani,” she whispered through her tears. “What more must you do?”

“Maybe at Dros Delnoch I shall truly be home,” he said. But hope died within him as he said it, for he was not a fool.

Tenaka awoke to hear the storm hissing and battering at the window. He stretched and glanced at the fire: It had faded to glowing coals. The girl slept in the chair, her breathing deep. He sat up and then moved to the fire, adding fresh wood and gently blowing the flames to life. He checked the old man; his color was not good. Tenaka shrugged and left the room. The corridor was icy, the wooden boards creaking under his boots. He made his way to the old kitchen and the indoor well; it was hard to pump, but he enjoyed the exercise and was rewarded when water jetted to the wooden bucket. Stripping off his dark jerkin and gray woolen shirt, he washed his upper body, enjoying the near pain of the ice-touched water on his sleep-warm skin.

Removing his remaining clothes, Tenaka moved out into the gym area beyond. There he twirled and leapt, landing lightly, first his right hand slicing the air, then his left. He rolled to the floor, then arched his back and sprang to his feet.

From the doorway Renya watched him, drawing back into the shadows of the corridor. She was fascinated. He moved like a dancer, yet there was something barbaric in the scene: some primordial element that was both lethal and beautiful. His feet and hands were weapons, flashing and killing invisible opponents, yet his face was serene and devoid of all passion.

She shivered, longing to withdraw to the sanctuary of his room but unable to move. His skin was the color of gold under sunlight, soft and warm, but the muscles beneath strained and swelled like silver steel. She closed her eyes and stumbled back, wishing she had never seen him.

Tenaka washed the sweat from his body and then dressed swiftly, hunger eating at him. Back in his room he sensed the change in the atmosphere. Renya avoided meeting his eyes as she sat by the old man, stroking his white hair.

“The storm is breaking,” said Tenaka.

“Yes.”

“What is the matter?”

“Nothing … except that Aulin is not breathing well. Will he be all right, do you think?”

Tenaka joined her at the bedside. Taking the old man’s frail wrist between his fingers, he felt for the pulse. It was weak and irregular.

“How long since he has eaten?” he asked.

“Two days.”

Tenaka delved in his pack, producing a sack of dried meat and a smaller pack of oats. “I wish I had sugar,” he said, “but this will have to do. Go and fetch some water and a cooking pot.”

Without a word Renya left the room. Tenaka smiled. So that was it: she had seen him exercising, and for some reason it had unsettled her. He shook his head.

She returned with an iron pot brimming with water.

“Throw half of it away,” he told her. She splashed it in the hallway, and he took the pot to the fire, slicing the meat with his dagger. Then he carefully placed the pot on the flames.

“Why did you not speak this morning?” he asked, his back toward her.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“When you saw me exercising.”

“I did not see you.”

“Then how did you know where to fetch the pot and get the water? You did not go past me in the night.”

“Who are you to question me?” she snapped.

He turned to her. “I am a stranger. You do not need to lie to me or pretend. Only with friends do you need masks.”

She sat down by the fire, stretching her long legs to the flames.

“How sad,” she said softly. “Surely it is only with friends that one can be at peace.”

“It is easier with strangers, for they touch your life but for an instant. You will not disappoint them, for you owe them nothing; neither do they expect anything. Friends you can hurt, for they expect everything.”

“Strange friends you have had,” she said.

Tenaka stirred the broth with his dagger blade. He was uncomfortable suddenly, feeling that he had somehow lost control of the conversation.

“Where are you from?” he asked.

“I thought you did not care.”

“Why did you not speak?”

Her eyes narrowed, and she turned her head. “I did not want to break your concentration.”

It was a lie, and they both knew it, but the tension eased and the silence gathered, drawing them together. Outside the storm grew old and died, whimpering where once it had roared.

As the stew thickened, Tenaka added oats to further swell the mixture and finally salt from his small store.

“It smells good,” said Renya, leaning over the fire. “What meat is it?”

“Mule, mostly,” he told her.

He went to fetch some old wooden platters from the kitchen, and when he returned Renya had awakened the old man and was helping him sit up.

“How are you feeling?” Tenaka inquired.

“You are a warrior?” Aulin asked, his eyes fearful.

“Yes. But you need not fear me.”

“Nadir?”

“Mercenary. I have prepared you some stew.”

“I am not hungry.”

“Eat it anyway,” ordered Tenaka. The old man stiffened at the authoritative tone, then averted his eyes and nodded. Renya fed him slowly as Tenaka sat by the fire. It was a waste of food, for the old man was dying. Still, he did not regret it and could not understand why.

With the meal over, Renya collected the platters and the pot. “My grandfather wishes to speak with you,” she said, and left the room.

Tenaka moved to the bedside, staring down at the dying man. Aulin’s eyes were gray and bright with the beginnings of fever.

“I am not strong,” said Aulin. “I never was. I have failed everyone who ever trusted me. Except Renya … I never failed her. Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” Tenaka answered. Why was it that weak men always felt the need for confession?

“Will you protect her?”

“No.”

“I can pay.” Aulin gripped Tenaka’s arm. “Just take her to Sousa. The city is only five, six days south.”

“You are nothing to me. I owe you nothing. And you cannot pay me enough.”

“Renya says you were Dragon. Where is your sense of honor?”