Impossible Things (16 page)

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Authors: Kate Johnson

Tags: #General, #Romance, #Fantasy, #Warlord, #Fiction

BOOK: Impossible Things
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By this time, both Ishtaer and Kael were as well recovered as they were going to be. She knew his foot and ankle bore a few ugly scars, not least of which was that one of his toes was significantly shorter than it used to be. Kael insisted that none of this was a problem, and that he’d rather keep the scars as a reminder.

‘A reminder of what?’ she asked on their last evening, prodding his foreshortened toe rather harder than necessary to get some reaction out of him. But all he did was wince.

‘How bloody stupid I was to discount those darts.’

She ran her fingers up the knotted scar that wound around his ankle. The flesh here was still new and tender, and although she’d applied salves and bandages to it, Kael wouldn’t let her use her Gift on it any more.

They sat on the deck of the lead barge, which was where Ishtaer felt more comfortable. Some of the men rode or marched along the riverbank, but without anyone to hold her on a horse, Ishtaer had a habit of falling off, and Kael was still resting his foot.

Being below decks on a boat, any boat, still set her teeth on edge. Without asking, Kael had set up a tent for her on the deck.

‘You couldn’t have known about the darts.’

‘I should have planned for it. How come you did?’

She shrugged and began binding his foot again. ‘I saw it in a vision.’

‘Maybe you should come with me whenever I plan a campaign.’

‘Yes, everyone needs a blind strategist.’

‘Was that another joke, Ishtaer? And when did you stop calling me
my lord
?’

‘I’m sorry. My lord.’ She was proud of herself for not flinching. Tomorrow they’d reach Ilanium, and Kael had warned her they’d have to meet the Emperor and report on what had happened. She had to keep pretending she wasn’t afraid.

‘No, you don’t need to. I’d prefer you to call me Kael. After all, we’re of equal rank, aren’t we now?’

‘Aren’t we, now,’ said Ishtaer.

There was a smile in Kael’s voice when he said, ‘You’re different, you know that? Bolder. Brighter. It’s like you’ve … I don’t know …’

‘Come alive,’ Ishtaer said. She finished tying the bandage and tilted her head so she’d be looking up at him from where she knelt on the deck. ‘I wasn’t really, before, was I? Not when you found me, and not for a long while after that.’

She took a deep breath, felt the air fill her lungs. Tasted it. Listened to the cicadas and birds and the lap of the water against the moored boat. Someone was cooking crayfish and her stomach rumbled with the happy knowledge that it would soon be full.

Kael cleared his throat. ‘Did you get my letter?’

‘I did. Thank you.’ She chewed her lip. ‘I, uh. Haven’t quite got around to contacting my family yet.’

‘I suppose it’ll take a while to get used to having one.’

‘Yes.’ She faltered, unsure if she should even voice her next thought, let alone how to say it. She busied herself tidying away her medical supplies.

‘What’s wrong?’ Kael asked, his voice gentle. She couldn’t quite get used to him being this … well, kind. The reason why he was suddenly being so nice to her squirmed in her gut.
He knows. All the things I never wanted anyone to know … he knows
.

‘How would you feel if you suddenly turned out to have a long-lost niece and she … she was … like me.’

Kael took a breath and let it out. The bench he sat on creaked as he shifted.

‘First of all, there is no one like you.’

‘Thank the gods for that.’

‘I don’t mean it like that. How many other people could have survived what you did?’

‘That’s exactly it. I don’t want them to know about it. Any of it. I want to be normal. I don’t want to be the ex-slave, I don’t want to be the blind girl, I don’t even want to be Chosen. I wish I’d just grown up with my family and done normal things and never even heard of the New Lands. And I can’t ever have that. Not even if I meet my uncle and my cousin and they’re lovely and friendly and nice to me, they’ll always know. Just like you know.’

Her eyes stung. Kael’s hand touched her chin and tilted her face upwards. His thumb brushed away a tear.

‘I won’t tell them,’ he said.

‘Not all of it,’ she hiccuped, ‘but the rest, the blindness and the slave thing, they’ll know. Everyone knows.’

‘So what? So what if everyone knows? If anyone thinks any the less of you for it, then they’re not worth your attention. Ish, you rode through the night to rescue a man – who you have every right to loathe – very nearly single-handed, and succeeded. Because of you, the worst of the Palavian insurgents have been neutralised, the people have some proper respect for what the Empire can do, and they have some chance at stability. What you did was amazing, and not just because of the effects in Palavio. Because not many people could do what you did, male or female, Chosen or blind or whatever. And I’ll tell you something for nothing. If you’d been that nice girl who grew up with a normal family, you’d have stayed at home and read about the grisly death of Krull the Warlord in the gossip sheets, and watched from a distance as the Palavians destroyed themselves.’

His hand was very warm against her face. ‘Anyone could have done it,’ she whispered.

‘But you’re the one who did. I think you’re amazing, Ishtaer.’

‘I think that snake venom addled your brain,’ she sniffed, and he laughed softly and took her hand.

‘Come on. Big day tomorrow. Let’s get something to eat.’

Chapter Fifteen

Good news travelled fast. It certainly did, Kael thought with some satisfaction, when you hired a Viator to spread it around. The Emperor sent a yacht out to meet them, decked out in multicoloured bunting and hung with flags. The Emperor’s own standard, of course, flying above all the others. And Karnos’s much-despised ass and beaver, at a respectful half mast. Then Kael’s own familiar black and red emblem, and Verak’s golden cockerel, and—

‘What’s that one?’ he said, peering at the yacht.

Verak squinted. ‘Don’t know it,’ he said.

‘What does it look like?’ Ishtaer asked.

‘Party per pall, azure, gules, and argent; a raguly—’

‘In Common, Verak?’ Kael said.

‘Didn’t you go to Sir Flavius’s classes on heraldry when you were at the Academy?’

‘No, I fought people and then had sex when I was at the Academy. Ishtaer, it’s a shield divided into three with a yellow bar across the top. Top left third is blue, with – what’re they called? Like brackets on the sides. A silver cross and a caduceus. Top right is red with three spotted cats. Bottom third is silver with what looks like an eye with wings coming out of it. In the middle is an oval with a sphinx and a couple of bears.’

‘I’ve never seen it before,’ Verak said.

‘Me neither.’

Ishtaer’s forehead winkled as she thought. The sun had turned her dusky skin a rich brown, brought out the highlights in her dark hair, and made her pale eyes shine. She wore breeches and shirt, pressed against her body by the light breeze. She looked beautiful.

‘It looks good,’ said Eirenn, sauntering up behind them. ‘The details can be changed, of course, but I thought this was the best design.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Verak said, but as Kael glanced back at the shield he realised.

‘The field is split in three,’ he said. ‘The caduceus is a Healer’s symbol, and the eye is for a Seer. Those cats, what are they—?’

‘Leopards. Big cats are often used by Warriors,’ Eirenn said, ‘and leopards are considered a feminine symbol.’

‘The lozenge in the middle,’ Verak said. ‘That was Saria Secunda’s. The bears are on Sarius’s arms.’

‘And the blue shield with the silver cross. That was Rellan Mallus’s. I remember now. The thing across the top—’

‘The chief,’ Eirenn supplied, ‘and notched like that it’s embattled, to show—’

‘Difficulties overcome,’ Ishtaer said quietly. ‘It’s my shield, isn’t it?’

They all stared at the fluttering banner as it drew closer.

‘I wanted it to be a surprise,’ Eirenn said uncertainly. ‘It’s not finished yet. I didn’t know they were going to put it on the yacht like that.’

‘The Empire is welcoming home a new hero,’ Verak said.

‘Heroine,’ Kael said. Ishtaer’s face was unreadable. ‘Are you all right?’

She smiled suddenly. ‘I’m fine. Thank you, Eirenn.’

The boy looked hugely relieved. ‘I did send a note to Malika with one of the Viators, for her to make you something to wear. I thought if you were going to meet the Emperor you should have something new.’

‘I have two perfectly nice dresses—’ Ishtaer began, and Kael laughed.

‘Lass, you have one frock for a Midwinter temple visit and one you wore as a Tyro at the Imperial Ball. You’ll need new stuff now, for state occasions. We’ll have to commission you some armour.’

‘I don’t need—’

‘You do. Remember what I told you all those months ago?’

She was silent a moment. ‘It’s all a show.’

‘Right. Chin up.’

‘Shoulders back,’ Verak added, laughing.

‘Eyes right ahead. There. Quite the heroine. Now, Eirenn, where’s this frock?’

They came ashore at the Imperial Dock, reserved for the Emperor and his guests, and mounted horses caparisoned in their own colours. Eirenn helped Ishtaer onto her horse, and although he seemed to have done it many times before, this was different, since she was trying to climb into a side saddle, and in a long silk dress too.

Malika had come aboard the barge with the dress, helped Ishtaer dress and styled her hair, which was considerably longer than it had been at the Imperial Ball. She wore a circlet of red, blue and white flowers on her head, a silk cloak divided into three just like her shield, and a flowing silk dress that was silver on one side and pale blue on the other.

Over it, she wore a corset of blood-red silk, open laced at the sides. On her forearms were matching laced panels. The effect was of red silk armour. Ishtaer looked like a warrior queen.

‘My congratulations to your dressmaker,’ Kael said as she settled herself in the saddle.

‘She’s very talented. Apparently she’s been getting lots of commissions since the Ball.’

‘Good for her.’ He paused. ‘You look beautiful.’

Ishtaer ducked her head uncomfortably. Eirenn, holding her horse’s decorated reins, gazed up at her as worshipfully as Brutus. The dog walked at her right, wearing the same ribboned lead he’d had at the Ball.

Ahead of them, the yacht’s banners had been transferred to tall poles, and there had been an unexpected tussle on the barge as to who would get to carry Ishtaer’s.

‘I notice no one’s fighting to be my signifer,’ Verak grumbled.

‘You aren’t a beautiful young heroine,’ Kael told him. ‘Everyone ready? Off we go, then.’

He had a century of his men in full armour, following behind the three horses. To his left Eirenn, wearing the white of a Tyro, led Ishtaer’s horse at a steady walk, up the path taking them from the docks to the Processional Way. People lined the streets, the enamelled bas reliefs hung with bunting. There was a lot of cheering going on. Ishtaer seemed oblivious, but he saw the way her white-knuckled fingers gripped the reins.

Verak waved to the crowd, his mood festive. Kael, who’d spent most of his life convincing people he was a cold-hearted killer, kept his eyes right ahead. But when Eirenn said, ‘Will you look at Gloria’s face? He looks sick as a parrot,’ Kael couldn’t resist.

There was the Glorius family, daughters waving happily, mother smiling weakly, father and son looking like thunder.

‘He is so jealous,’ Eirenn laughed, waving at the girls and blowing them kisses. Marcus’s scowl intensified.

‘Next time your life is in danger, it’ll be Marcus riding to your rescue,’ Verak said.

‘Not if I can help it. I might seduce one of his sisters, just for the hell of it.’

Ishtaer’s lips thinned. If Kael didn’t know better he might have thought she was jealous. He almost smiled at that, and then he remembered why she wouldn’t be jealous, why she’d never be jealous, why she’d never be with him, and after that it wasn’t hard at all to look dark and forbidding.

The roadway winding around the Turris Imperio had also been decked with bunting. It was pretty obvious which way they were to go. The sun beat down on them, and Kael’s shirt stuck to him under his armour. Sweat trickled down Verak’s brow, and he knew that even though they’d never show it, his men were roasting in their armour. Ishtaer remained cool, upright, an ice queen in her blue and silver.

The flags and bunting led them to an audience chamber and an applauding court. Kael dismounted on the roadway and handed Ishtaer down from her horse. ‘Take my arm,’ he told her quietly. ‘When we get to the throne, a very small curtsey. Understand?’ She nodded. ‘Eirenn, take the dog. You’re on her left, half a pace behind.’

‘He should be beside me,’ she said. ‘He rescued you too—’

‘He’s a Tyro, and you’re a Lady, and you were the one who set the camp on fire and risked your life to heal me.’

‘It’s all right,’ Eirenn said. ‘I don’t mind.’

But he did, and Kael felt unfamiliar doubt ripple through him. Nevertheless, Eirenn stuck to his half-pace behind, and Ishtaer placed her hand on Kael’s left arm, and with Verak at his right they entered the audience chamber, filled with bright colours and cheering people.

As they walked down the central aisle towards the Emperor’s throne, Kael had the strangest sensation of walking towards the altar in a temple with his bride beside him.

Not that Ishtaer would ever marry you
, said his conscience, and he cringed away from it.

‘Imperial Majesty,’ Kael said, bowing his head. Beside him, Ishtaer dropped a graceful inch, inclining her head as she did. Clearly, she’d learned about more than heraldry from Sir Flavius.

‘Lord Krull,’ replied the Emperor. ‘Lady Ishtaer. The Empire welcomes you back.’

Afterwards, Ishtaer couldn’t remember much of the meeting with the Emperor. Kael told a wildly embellished version of the rescue, most of which she was pretty sure he had no recollection of at all. She’d wondered how much he would admit to, whether he’d tell the court – and therefore the whole Empire – of his own mistakes, of his near-death state. She half expected her own part to be reduced to a bit of healing, because after all, why would the great Krull the Warlord admit to needing to be rescued at all?

But by the time he was done, Lady Ishtaer, warrior queen, was part of the Krull myth. The assembled spectators applauded so loudly they sent Brutus into a barking frenzy, which in turn made everyone laugh. She was reasonably sure Eirenn was clowning around with the dog too, happier since Kael had praised his archery skills, endurance and bravery throughout the whole escapade.

They walked back out into the sunshine, and Kael said to her, ‘Right then, heroine of the hour. How do you want to celebrate?’

Her back ached from standing so straight for so long. Under the corset she was sweating more than she’d let on. The combined perfumes of the court had risen in the heat to make her feel quite dizzy. All she really wanted to do was lie down somewhere cool for a while.

But she’d endured worse.

‘I don’t know. How do you usually celebrate?’

There was a slight pause, during which Verak cleared his throat, and Ishtaer felt her colour rise as she realised how an oversexed young lord like Kael was likely to celebrate.

‘With drink,’ he said smoothly. ‘Expensive food and drink. Where’s the poshest eating house in the city, Eirenn?’

‘You’re asking like I frequent posh eating houses? I hear Bibalacus is popular with the more-money-than-sense brigade.’

‘Bibalacus it is, then. Lead on, lad.’

‘Of course, you usually have to book well in advance, and I doubt they’ll allow dogs, but … What am I saying?’

‘I’m Krull the Warlord, lad, and this is Lady Ishtaer, the … hmm. We’ll have to think of a name for you.’

‘Just Ishtaer does me fine,’ she said, and Kael laughed.

‘As you say, Just Ishtaer.’

He was teasing her, and it felt nice. Ever since she’d scooped him out of reach of the crocogators he’d been nothing but polite and friendly to her. No suggestive comments at all. Not a single one of his men had made any either.

She wondered what he’d said to them. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

Kael handed her back up to the horse, Eirenn took the leading reins, and the hundred men who’d followed them through the city fell in behind them.

‘Er, how big is this restaurant?’ she asked. ‘Can it take a hundred soldiers?’

Kael laughed. ‘Doubt it. Back to the boats for you, lads. Have a swim, get your lunch and then bring the
Ghost
out of dock and kit her out. We’ll be sailing for home in the next few days.’

The clang of a hundred fists on a hundred breastplates answered him.

They rode in silence for a bit, and then Kael said, ‘Don’t suppose you want to come with us, do you?’

Ishtaer, who’d been wondering what a posh restaurant was like, blinked. ‘Where?’

‘Krulland.’ When she did nothing but stare in stupefaction at the blackness behind her own eyes, he added, ‘As my Healer. Now Karnos is … gone, I find myself in need of someone who can fix bones and mend cuts and cure fevers. One who’ll do whatever it takes to cure a patient. A Warrior Healer is just what I need.’

‘But …’ Ishtaer said, too stunned to think. ‘But Madam Julia needs me.’

‘Madam Julia wouldn’t have graduated you from the Academy if she wasn’t ready to let you go. She’s not a fool. She can’t keep you forever.’

She swallowed and clutched the reins tighter.

‘Think about it,’ Kael said, his tone deceptively casual. ‘We won’t be going straight away. It’s a hell of an opportunity, Ishtaer.’

She just about managed to nod.

As they neared street level the noise of the crowd drifted up, cheers rising as they came into view.

‘Get used to it, kid,’ Kael told her, and Brutus barked excitedly.

They passed under the King’s Gate, out into the crowd, and Ishtaer steeled herself for the wall of noise from all sides. She was used to listening hard to work out where she was going, what obstacles were in her way, who was approaching, but in this melee of sound she could have been riding straight into the ocean for all she knew. She gripped the reins hard and hoped Eirenn knew what he was doing. He’d suddenly gone very quiet.

If she hadn’t been listening so hard, she might have missed the voice calling, ‘Cousin Ishtaer!’

Her head snapped around. A young female voice, excited and slightly desperate.

‘Cousin Ishtaer! Over here!’

On the other side of Kael, Verak’s horse slowed.

‘Kael,’ he called above the noise. ‘Look at this …’

Kael’s horse stopped. Eirenn pulled hers up too.

‘My gods,’ she heard Kael say.

‘If Rellan were ten years older …’ Verak said.

Kael cleared his throat and called loudly to someone, ‘Let them through!’

‘What’s going on?’ Ishtaer asked Eirenn, her horse prancing a little at the interruption.

‘Well, I’m not sure, but there’s a girl there who looks just like you, and a man his lordship thinks looks just like your father. At a guess, Ishtaer, you’re about to meet your family.’

The Academy was quiet at night, the students either out enjoying the day’s celebrations or already in bed. Tomorrow there would be a feast in Ishtaer’s honour, and Kael could already tell it was going to be hell for her. He’d spent the evening in Bibalacus with Ishtaer’s new family, watching her listen to their stories and gossip and giving the barest version of her own life, pausing at the worst bits, which Kael found himself filling in with glib white lies.

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