Fireblood (Whispers from Mirrowen) (9 page)

Annon looked at her knowingly. He did not say the words, but she could almost see them spoken in his eyes. A ripple of blue flames danced across his fingers.

Pyricanthas. Sericanthas. Thas.

She held up her own glowing hand, having thought the words as well, and touched her palm against his. She could feel the magic in his blood. Those with the fireblood were not persecuted among the Romani. They had made sure she was taught the Vaettir words at an appropriate age. That she possessed it only increased her value.

His arrival was unexpected. His arrival was almost a dagger thrust in her heart. How had Tyrus managed to keep this secret? What sort of man would do that?

She released her control of the flames, and they vanished from both of their hands.

“Please, sit,” she said, gesturing to the reed mat. “We must talk. I need to know everything about you. My name is Hettie, if Tyrus did not tell you. What did he tell you about me?”

Annon seated himself cross-legged on the mat. She joined him, sitting opposite, leaning forward and giving him an eager look. A listening ear was usually all it took to get a man to start speaking. Silencing him, on the other hand, often took a great deal of work.

“That you are Romani, kidnapped at birth, and that you have your first earring. Since we are the same age, you are due for the next and wish to avoid it. He said you were trained as a Finder in Alkire by a man he knows. Despite his wealth and prominence, he refuses to bid for you himself.” She saw his eyes narrow at that. Good. “He told me of an abandoned treasure in the mountains of Alkire. He gave me the key words that will open the treasure and implored me not to speak them to anyone until we have arrived there.”

“It is no secret that is known to three,” Hettie said. “It’s another Romani saying. Go on.”

“That is it. We seek Erasmus in Havenrook, and I was told he knows where the treasure is but not how to retrieve it.”

“I see,” Hettie answered. She wondered how delicately she should put it and decided to be bold. “For too long, Annon, I have been in debt. My entire life is a debt. I wish to be free of that debt forever. While I appreciate your help and that you are coming with us, I want to know how much of the treasure you want. If you come with me, you are entitled to a portion…”

Annon’s hand grabbed hers. “Not a ducat or a pent. I am not like our uncle. A Druidecht has no need of money, really. Neither do the Bhikhu, I am told. I think Tyrus chose us to help you because we do it freely.”

She shook her head warningly. “If a cat had a dowry, she would often be kissed. You say this now, Annon, but I do not know how sizeable this treasure is. I will give you a portion willingly. I just wish to agree right now as to what that is. We must have an understanding. I cannot be indebted to both you
and
the Bhikhu.”

“Not a ducat or a pent. I will take none of it. You said you knew a man was lying. I am not like Tyrus. I am a Druidecht. I know the woodlands. I have abilities that can prevent us from facing certain dangers. And if the road gets hard, we both have the fire.”

He was sincere. He was probably unwise not to request something from her. But she could not doubt his sense of integrity and commitment. It almost made her feel guilty because she had not been raised the same way. Such a contrast to her experience. It was like finding a butterfly in the middle of the sewers.

Hettie leaned forward and hugged him, shaking her head in disbelief at the unexpected source of help. A twin brother.

She felt his hand tentatively pat her back, as if the show of friendship had embarrassed him. She leaned back, gripping her boot cuffs and rocking slightly. “You grew up in Wayland then? Tell me more.”

Annon was grateful for the fat candle that Master Shivu had brought hours before. It had burned down to a little pool of wax, which he and Hettie continued to coax further to provide light. Without being able to see the stars through the slats above, he did not know how close to dawn it was, but it did not matter. They had stayed up all night, talking.

From the dull light of the candle, he could see little edges of color in Hettie’s hair that matched his own. When she turned her head and he could see the earring, part of him wanted to snap it off in anger.

“What would the Romani do if you just ran away?” he asked her softly. She was deft at getting him to answer her questions, and he noticed that she always replied in as few words as possible before turning things back to him. He could tell it was a way she protected herself. She drew the focus away from herself.

“There are stories,” she said, staring down at her hands. “But they do not teach us what happens. I’m not sure how old you must be before you are trusted with that secret. They do not
want me to know.” She picked something from the reed mat and flicked it away with her finger. “But where do you hide from the Romani?” she asked, smiling sadly. “Silvandom? No Romani is welcome there. Boeotia? They would probably just as well kill me as help me. Where else does it leave?”

Annon nodded. “The Scourgelands it is.”

She narrowed her gaze. “Are you mocking me?”

Annon shook his head. “No, I’m just reminded of something. My mentor warned me about coming to Kenatos. He said that Tyrus might try to persuade me to go to the Scourgelands. I was not expecting this adventure. Have you been to Havenrook?”

Hettie shrugged and made an obscure gesture. “Long ago, before I was sold. The caravans go back and forth through there. I was a child, so I do not know very much about the place. I have heard the road can be dangerous. Have you ever had to use…?” She wiggled her fingers.

Annon shook his head. “If the road goes through a forest, I should be able to help. I do not wish to use the flames if we can avoid it. I would try to talk our way past first.”

She gave him an enigmatic look. He could tell she was cautious of her words and slow to reveal her opinions. There was something in her eyes—something that showed the depth of damage the lack of freedom had taken on her mind. Winning her trust would not be easy, even though they were siblings. But Annon was patient and felt that in time she would learn to open up to him more. He hoped so.

“You don’t agree with my approach,” he said simply.

“The least said, the soonest mended,” she said.

“Which means?”

“It’s often a man’s mouth that broke his nose. We will see how good you are at talking, brother Annon.”

A rooster crowed, and they both looked up at the slat on the roof, seeing the shift in the darkness that had come slowly and gradually. Hettie shook her head and chuckled softly to herself.

“What is so funny?” he asked her.

“Another Romani saying. I’m sorry, but I heard so many as a child, I cannot shake them loose from my head. It was a favorite of mine. A cock that crows too early gets a twisted neck.”

Annon smiled at that one and rose, wincing at the stiffness in his legs and back. “I am ready to leave this city forever. You?”

She gave him a knowing look. “I have a feeling that we may not have seen the last of Tyrus.”

“Many are frightened to travel the roads linking the great cities. There are stories that monsters roam the land, devouring travelers and leaving nothing but their bones. Others say that it is not monsters to fear, but bandits who prey on the weak. I have found in my journeys as a younger man that the road less traveled is often the safest.”

– Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos

P
aedrin stood motionless by the enormous metal doors of the temple, gripping a beaten-up staff with both hands; he waited. And waited. Dawn appeared as a flush in the sky, followed by cocks crowing and a flock of ravens heading east. He stood solidly, hands clenching the rugged wood, his stance firm and respectful. A bag with a single strap bulged against the small of his back, full of foodstuffs gathered from the kitchens, a small pot to boil water, two thin eating sticks, and a spoon carved from bossem wood. It also contained a few small pouches of spices, one of rice, and one of pepper-corns. He brought no change of Bhikhu robes, and he wore sandals only because he knew he’d be crossing miles of mucky sewage before leaving Kenatos. After taking mental inventory of his bag for the fiftieth time, he waited. And waited more for his companions to arrive.

A creak from the inner door alerted him, but he did not glance quickly; he just shifted his eyes until he saw them approach from the doorway. Both were cloaked in the manner of the Druidecht, but he recognized the stiff, proud walk of the girl. Their heads
were bent low in conversation. As they approached, Paedrin gave them a benign, incurious look, and nodded once. Their bleary eyes revealed that neither had slept that night.

Master Shivu was still abed, but he and Paedrin had traded quips and insults the night before. He nearly smirked at some of the more memorable ones, like the jest about using snails to train the other Bhikhu while Paedrin was away, as they would need something to fill in for his absence. But he dared not smile. Yet.

The footfalls approached, and the amber-haired Druidecht met his gaze. His skin was weathered by the sun, but he had a youthful look. Paedrin estimated that he could leave the Druidecht writhing on the ground in about the same amount of time it took to blink.

“Good morning. My name is Annon.”

Paedrin gave him a respectful nod. “I am honored to join you.” He looked at the girl. Her eyes were disdainful. He was expecting that. “It is nice to see you again.” He stared at her, cocking his head slightly, waiting for her to speak.

She looked at him and said nothing.

“My name is Paedrin,” he said to the Druidecht. He gave the girl a short glance.

Still nothing.

He almost smiled. She was a green nut, unwilling to open even a bit.

Annon noticed the exchange and stepped forward. “Have you been to Havenrook by chance, Paedrin?”

Paedrin’s ears started to tingle with heat at her rejection, but he kept his composure. Before he could answer, she did.

“He’s never left the temple, Annon.” Her eyebrow arched at Paedrin. “He knows nothing beyond these walls. I know the way to Havenrook. And I can handle a blade as well as any man.”