Light of Eidon (Legends of the Guardian-King, Book 1) (44 page)

The line of people seeking exit from Xorofin the next morning shuffled
forward toward the gatehouse, bringing Carissa alongside the two bodies
which had been impaled there. Morbidly she looked up at them, pulling at
her face mask to align the eye holes.

One wore green, the other white, the silk charred, the bodies themselves
hacked and burned. Meridon’s face was swollen, his eyes burned out. All that
remained to identify him clearly were the freckles and curly red hair.

The Pretender’s face they had left intact, aside from burning out his eyes.
Smudged still with paint, its handsome aquiline features looked strangely
peaceful in death, despite the flies that crawled across it. It was most definitely not Abramm.

But then, she’d known it wouldn’t be.

They’d been unable to leave last night as Cooper had hoped. The city
gates were sealed long before they ever managed to fight their way through
the chaos to the nearest of them. There’d been nothing to do but return to
their room at the inn to wait for morning and pray somehow the place would
be spared a thorough search.

Philip had wanted to go out alone with the dog, until Cooper had pointed
out that if he were caught, the Esurhites could use Newbold themselves to
find his brother. Or worse, Philip might inadvertently lead them to their
quarry himself.

The boy had seen reason, but he hadn’t liked it, certain as he was that
Meridon had escaped. Nor was that the only certainty he embraced. “I believe the Pretender is your brother,” he’d said firmly, almost the moment
they had resolved the matter of his going back out.

She’d stared at him blankly, the words hardly registering at first. After the
torture and excitement of what had been a very long night and day, she was
reeling with exhaustion. When she finally did understand what he meant, her
brain didn’t know what to make of it, so she just continued staring at him.

“I think he was down there today,” the youth went on. “That the man
they say is a prince of Kiriath really is.”

Abramm was a scholar, not a warrior, boy,” Cooper said gruffly.

“He is a Kalladorne,” Philip retorted. `And the way Trap went to him,
protected him when he was down-I don’t think he would have done that if
it wasn’t the prince under all that paint.”

“He’s been partnered with the Pretender for eighteen months,” Cooper
countered. “They’re probably friends. Why wouldn’t he go to his aid?”

Philip frowned at him. “Why are you so eager to deny it could be him?”

“Because I knew him. And he was weak and sickly.”

“He could have changed-“

“He would have died long before.”

“But-“

Cooper slammed a palm on the low table. “Enough, boy? The Pretender
is not Prince Abramm, and we will have no more talk of it.”

Philip’s smoldering resentment had flared to flame. “Why are you so
determined to keep us from finding him, Master Cooper? Did you swear an
oath to the king that you’d not let us succeed?”

Cooper went dead white, an expression Carissa recognized as one of deep
fury.

“Philip, you’re overstepping here,” she interjected.

Am I? All the while he’s been in charge, we haven’t gotten close enough
to even glimpse the most famous men in Esurh until now. You expect me to
believe it was nothing more than bad luck?”

“Oh, Philip, what possible reason could he have for doing any such
thing?”

“I already told you-he’s the king’s man.”

“Nonsense.”

And what about that business back in Vorta with Danarin? You never
did explain that, Master.” His gaze shifted back to Cooper. “What did you pay him for on the eve of the contest?”

“I paid him for his services as our guide and interpreter. You don’t think
he came with us for free, do you?”

And the next day he tells us the wrong time, tells us it wasn’t Abramm
or Trap at all when obviously it was.”

“If anyone was the king’s man,” Carissa broke in wearily, “it was Danarin.
I didn’t trust him from the moment I met him. That’s why we fired him.”

“Yet still things went wrong, my lady. And it’s not Danarin trying to convince you that the man we saw escape tonight is not your brother. Yet Master
Cooper has fought us all the way. Always presenting some reason why we
shouldn’t go, why we can’t do something, why-“

“Have you no thoughts for anyone but yourself, boy?” Cooper burst out,
as angry now as Carissa had ever seen him. “Can you think of nothing but
finding your own brother? Who has, according to you, escaped his slavery
without your help. You should be rejoicing, and instead you torment this
poor woman by raising false hopes that even you must see have no substance.
And for what? Because you know that once she’s convinced her brother is
dead she’ll go home, and you’ll have no one to subsidize your own interests?”

Philip had stared at him, stricken, and Carissa saw the truth of Cooper’s
words written in his face.

“Your brother may be alive, boy,” Cooper went on, more gently, “but hers
is dead. Let her accept the truth in peace and get on with her grieving.”

To his credit, Philip had backed off, looking chagrined and ashamed.
There had been no more talk after that.

But long after the others had settled and the silence of deep night fell over
them, Carissa had lain awake on her pallet, facing the wall and weeping in
bitter acknowledgment of the truth. In time sleep did claim her, if only
briefly, and she awoke feeling groggy and apathetic.

Breakfast had brought news that the bodies of the Pretender and Infidel
now hung impaled inside the east gate, proof they had not escaped. Even so
the rumors still flew-crazy stories about bodies made of mist and two men
slaying a veren last evening on the cliffs of the Icthan Inlet. Many swore the
two had used the same white fire as had defeated the Broho yesterday and
that Beltha’adi was secretly combing the countryside in search of them and
that that was why Xorofin’s gates had been opened this morning.

Philip had lapped the stories up with such avidity it seemed to take all his willpower not to hop up and down and shout, “See? I told you?”

After the meal Cooper had gone to see about getting passage on a ship,
only to find the harbor quarantined on account of an outbreak of plague.
With the threat of plague adding to his concerns for Carissa’s safety, he
decided they would go overland to the port city of Ybal, some sixty leagues
north by well-traveled, well-policed road. They’d walk as far as nearby Vedel
and buy better transport there. The important thing now was to get out of
Xorofin.

Carissa had listened to his plans and explanations without comment, content to let him make the decisions. All she wanted was to escape this horrid
land. How that was accomplished mattered little.

Thus they had come to stand this morning in the line of travelers seeking
exit at the east gate, filing along beneath the bodies of Beltha’adi’s latest vanquished nemeses.

She now found herself staring at the golden shield on the imposter infidel’s chest. Not Meridon, perhaps, but some poor sap. Eidon certainly hadn’t
delivered him.

The pain in her throat sharpened, and she dashed away sudden tears as
the line shuffled forward again. Beside her Philip sighed resignedly and
turned from the display.

She felt a fluttering of pity for him, knowing he loved his brother as much
as she loved her own. It had to be hard for him to give up. “It really is better
this way, Phil,” she said softly. “Think how he would feel, knowing you were
here looking for him.”

A wry smile twisted his lips. “He’d be furious.”

And it would be awful if you got yourself captured when he’s just found
his freedom.”

“Aye.” He made a disgusted face. “I’ve been a fool, I think. This is Eidon’s
fight, not mine. Wherever he is, Eidon will hold him.”

Eidon. The name stirred new threads of bitterness. How many lives had
Eidon ruined now? “I’ve been a fool, too,” she murmured. “This whole trip
has been such a waste.”

A waste?” His head came round, his blue eyes wide. “My lady, we’ve just
witnessed the birth of a legend! The escape of the White Pretender and his
Infidel from the great Val’Orda. It will spread across the land. It will be
passed down through the ages. And we saw it. With our own eyes.” He grinned up at the corpses. “I’ll remember that fight for the rest of my life? It
will be something to tell our children? Our grandchildren?”

The words only stabbed new pain into her heart, and suddenly she
wanted to cry all over again.

At long last they reached the guardhouse and Cooper was handing over
their traveling papers yet again. The guard looked them over cursorily, then
gestured at Carissa and Peri.

`And these?”

“My wife and her servant.”

The guard flicked a hand. “Lift their veils.”

Cooper stared at him, his expression of outrage probably not much
feigned. “Is this really necessary, sir?”

“No one passes that we have not personally laid eyes upon.”

“I am Liakan Ingsolis,” Cooper fumed. “Merchant of fine textiles and rare
treasures. I am not a rebel, and I resent being treated like one. You may rest
assured your commanding officer will hear of this. From his commanding officer.”

“Nevertheless, I have my orders.”

Cooper looked around as if hoping deliverance might somehow swoop
out of the crowd. Yet the crowd itself held them in, cutting off escape.
Resignedly he gestured to Peri, who quickly unveiled herself. With a grunt
the man turned to Carissa. This time Cooper did the unveiling, lifting the
cloth just enough to reveal her face, then quickly dropping it back into place.

It did not work. Frowning, the guard pushed him aside and lifted the veil
himself, flipping it over her head to reveal her pale face and blond hair to all.
A murmur of surprise arose around them.

“She’s Kiriathan?” he declared delightedly. He leered at her, then at
Cooper. “Kiriathans are quite in demand at the moment.”

Cooper stood rigidly, white faced. “She is my wife, sir.”

“Yes, and how much did you pay for her?” The guard laughed, then
stroked her cheek with a rough finger. A spilling handful, I’d say. She’s a
beauty.”

Sudden fear cut through the veil of indifference that had held her since
last night. Cooper stood poised at the edge of violence, Eber looming behind
him as Philip pressed against her shoulder protectively, Newbold panting at
his side.

“Come, pretty one,” the guard said, gripping her arm. “The commander, I
think, will like you.”

A voice rose sharply from the crowd behind them. “Master Ingsolis?
Liakan Ingsolis?”

They all turned as a tall, dark-bearded young man hurried up the line
toward them. Though he wore the drab shadow-gray of the Army of the
Black Moon, he was no soldier. He was, in fact, their former Thilosian first
mate, Danarin.

“I was afraid I’d miss you,” he said, bowing to Cooper. “Captain Hoag
released me so I could escort you. Here are the papers.” He handed them to
the guard, then looked at Carissa. “Why is she unveiled? This is disgraceful!”
Quickly he pulled the fabric back over her head and turned to the guard.
“What is the meaning of this?”

“We were told to search everyone, sir.”

“Rabble and commoners, yes. This is Liakan Ingsolis. Do you imagine he
would be involved with rebel scum?”

The man paled. “I … I did not know, sir. He has no baggage, and I have
never heard of Liakan Ingsolis. No offense, sir,” he added to Cooper. “I am
only a poor soldier.”

“Very poor,” Danarin snapped. “His baggage went through yesterday. His
coachman was supposed to return for him last night, but of course no one
could enter the city.”

“Of course,” the soldier said, his dark skin growing darker with embarrassment. He would not look at Danarin. “Uh … and where is your mount,
sir?”

“In the stable. I will be riding in the coach with Master Ingsolis, you dolt.”

“Of course, sir.” The soldier folded both sets of papers together and passed
them to Danarin. “Have a safe journey.”

They hurried through the tunnel gate and down the dusty road outside.
“What a story?” Cooper muttered as they strode past the other travelers, most
of whom were busy repacking their things. “I’m astonished he believed it.”

“Oh, they’ll believe quite a bit if you wear the right uniform,” Danarin
said, smiling. “I can’t believe you still have that old dog with you.”

“Where did you get that uniform?” Carissa asked.

“Borrowed it, of course.”

“Of course.”

“The part about the coach was true, though,” Danarin said. “Well, it’s not
a coach, it’s a cart, but you’re welcome to travel with us. Which way are you
headed?”

“Ybal,” Cooper supplied.

“On foot??”

“We’ll buy transport in Vedel.”

Danarin was shaking his head. “Vedel’s been hit with the plague, too,
didn’t you hear? I suspect that’s where the outbreak in Xorofin came from.”

“I heard it started in the Sorite sector.”

“In any case, Vedel is closed. The only way north is to go around through
Jarnek.”

“But Jarnek’s inland!”

“Yes. The old gateway to the SaHal. And unless you want to go overland
without a road, it’s the only remaining option. Assuming the plague hasn’t
spread there, too.”

“I don’t relish the thought of walking all the way to Jarnek,” Cooper said.

“Well, you’re welcome to come with me,” Danarin said.

Absolutely not!” Carissa cried, pushing around Cooper to confront the
Thilosian. “You have dealt us enough blows. I’ll not fall for your trickery
again.”

“Blows? Trickery? My lady? Why do you charge me with this injustice?
Have I not just saved your life?”

“For that I am grateful, but do not think it will cause me to forget how
you deceived us at Vorta.”

Danarin looked completely flummoxed. “Deceived you? How, my lady?”

“Telling us the Pretender would perform at six when he was really performing at four.”