Mind of the Magic (Arhel Book 3) (28 page)

Faia fell asleep wondering what a roarer was.

FAIA woke to darkness, and the sound of someone breathing nearby. Her heart caught in her throat, and she felt around on the floor for something to use as a weapon.

“Are you awake?” Edrouss whispered. “Do you need anything?”

Faia relaxed. “I didn’t know that was you in here.”

“I’ve been in here every night since you wouldn’t wake up the first time. I wanted to be here…” His voice trailed off, and Faia could imagine the dire eventualities he’d considered.

“Thank you.” She sat up. “You’ve been very good to me.”

Edrouss said nothing at all for a long time. Then he whispered, “Faia?”

“Yes?”

“As far as I can tell, you have neither husband nor lover.”

Faia waited for him to continue, but he didn’t, so she said, “You’re right. I’m alone, and have been for a very long time.”

“Yes. Well.” He cleared his throat, then sighed deeply. “Do you feel like talking, or would you rather go back to sleep? I know you still feel terrible.” He sounded like he almost hoped she didn’t want to talk.

But she did. She hoped she knew what he wanted to say—and if she was right, she didn’t want to wait to hear him say it. “I feel quite well, actually. And very awake. I think I’ve had more than enough sleep for a while.” She smiled in the darkness.

“I, ah. Yes. Good. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Edrouss, what did you want to ask me?”

“Oh. That.” He sounded so nervous. “Faia, I am neither rich nor handsome—but I remember how things were done when no one had magic. I think I’ll be able to make a place for myself in this world—I have nothing now, but I think I will.”

Poor man. He stuttered and paused—she hadn’t heard anyone so nervous when speaking to her in years.

“I think you will, too,” Faia told him. “I think you’re very smart, and very talented, and even rather nice-looking—at least you have a wonderful smile… and nice eyes—and I think you will do well here.” She grinned. “But what does that have to do with anything at all?”

There was a pause. “You think I’m nice-looking?”

“Rather.”

“Oh.” His voice was much happier. “Well, thank you. I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Faia’s cheeks burned. “Thank you,” she whispered. Suddenly she didn’t feel so completely sure of herself.

“And I do love you,” he added. “I didn’t want you to think I would propose marriage if I didn’t have something to offer you. And your little girl.”

Faia knew she was well on her way to recovery—had anything shocked her that much a day or two earlier, she was sure she would have fainted. “Marriage?” She stared at the dark silhouette in the chair next to her bed, dumbfounded. “But, we haven’t even kissed each other yet. Much less bedded together.”

“Bedded?” It was Edrouss’s turn to sound stunned.

“I was raised that before either a man or a woman proposed public bonding, they had to know each other well first. And no woman can know a man she hasn’t bedded.”

Edrouss gave a low whistle. “I was raised believing marriage was for virgins.”

“Are you a virgin?” Faia found this possibility intensely interesting.

Edrouss sounded like he was choking. “No,” he said after a moment. “Though I don’t miss being one by much. A girl and I… well, once we, um… It didn’t go very well. The girl she shared her quarters with came in while we were… um… which ruined things.”

“I can imagine.”

“That was my one great opportunity—and then I had to go do my service for the Klogs, and no woman would take a chance on me again until she could be sure I survived that.”

Faia lay back. “Why don’t you undress and get in bed with me?” she suggested.

“You aren’t feeling well enough for
that
, are you?”

“Maybe. But even if I’m not, we can still sleep together. You won’t have to spend the night sitting in an uncomfortable chair, and I will have the pleasure of your company.”

“I would like that.” He paused. “But you won’t say whether you’ll marry me?”

She liked the sound of his voice, and she liked his smile. She trusted him, she found comfort and pleasure in his company—and if he were not wonderful in bed to begin with, well, she’d found those skills came with practice anyway. She considered the entries in his diary bragging about all the women he’d had—he was a man who was certain he was going to like sex, at least, whether he’d actually had the chance to try it out or not.

More than that, she realized she loved him. If she woke up every day for the rest of her life to find him beside her in the bed, she would be happy. “I’ll marry you,” she agreed.

SHE sat in Renina’s kitchen peeling tubers several days later. Faia was happy to be up and moving again—and was pleased her eyesight had returned to normal. Her appetite had returned, too, though she was still very thin and weak.

“We could hold the wedding here,” Renina said.

“No—Kirtha has to be there. I don’t want to surprise her by bringing home a husband.”

Renina nodded. “True.” She smiled, while her knife whisked the rough skins off the vegetables. “You two look so happy.”

“I’ve waited a long time to find someone I could love,” Faia told her. “I am happy. I feel like my life has started over.” She threw her cleaned tuber into the bowl and picked up another one. In the walled garden, she could hear Bytoris and Edrouss hammering on the roarer they were building.

“I still have some promises to keep before I can really start my new life, though,” she added. “After Edrouss talks to the First Folk, I have to find a way of convincing Witte the Mocker to give Arhel back its magic. If we can discredit Thirk, that may be possible.”

“What if you can’t convince him?”

Faia frowned. “I have to. Somehow, I just have to. Medwind Song will die if I don’t—and perhaps a lot of other people will, too.” She smiled then. “It will work out somehow. My mother told me it would. I just have to not give up.”

Someone pounded on the front door.

Renina jumped at the sound; Faia could see fear in her eyes.

“Were you expecting someone?”

Renina pursed her lips. “Maybe. The People of the One True God were stoning heretics in market square this morning,” she said. “They were also announcing that anyone who refused to pay tithe was a heretic.”

Faia put down her tuber and looked at the little paring knife. It would be almost useless in a fight, and she was weak anyway. “You think they’ve come for us?”

“I think they’ve come for their tithe.”

“Oh, Lady. It
could
be someone else.”

“It could be.” Renina didn’t look like she thought that was a possibility, though. “I’ll handle it,” she said. She ran for the front door, yelling, “Wait! I’ll be right there.”

Faia waited. The noise in the backyard had stopped completely. The children, who had been running through the house arguing, fell silent, too. Low voices talked at the front door, then footsteps echoed through the hall. Renina stalked back into the kitchen, her face a study in fury. “Hembult Chemmerd,” she muttered. “He used to be the taxman for the lairdlaw—now the lairdlaw has converted and damned Hembult is back on my doorstep, stealing rits for God.” She stood on a chair and reached into a cubbyhole at the top of her pantry shelves.

Renina brought out a leather bag and rummaged through it, then pulled out a gold coin, looked thoughtfully at the ceiling, and shook her head. Faia could see her lips forming silent curses. The woman began fishing out coppers and split silvers and placing them on a lower pantry shelf, until, by Faia’s calculation, she had the same amount the single gold piece would have given her. Then Renina carried the handful of coins to the front door.

This time the voice carried well. “Blessings and benedictions of the One True God on you and your house,” a man said. The thud of metal on wood rattled the pottery on the shelves, and he added, “I have affixed to your house the Mark of God. Now all will know you are a believer, and not a damned heretic.”

Renina asked, “I hear the priest is fixing believers’ water, Hembult. Will my water be back on soon?”

“It’s
Brother
Hembult, now. The Holy Perabene beseeches the One True God on your behalf daily, sister, and speaks for the rest of the righteous of Bonton, too. But there are many prayers that must be answered. Meanwhile, God will meet your needs as he sees fit. Pray and wait upon the will of God, sister—and remember that patience is a virtue.”

Faia heard the door shut.

Renina came back into the kitchen, scowling. “Patience may be a virtue, but you’ll notice the One True God doesn’t patiently wait for his tithe,” she snarled.

Faia nodded. “We’re doing what we can about that. It may take time, but I’m sure we’ll win eventually.” She picked the tuber back up and began peeling. “Why didn’t you give the collector the gold coin? It was the same amount of money as all the smaller coins, and would have been faster.”

“They write down how you pay,” Renina said. “If you have gold, it goes into the book—and those who have gold also have silver and copper.” The woman smiled slyly. “Those who have silver and copper, however, don’t necessarily have gold. I’d rather leave the matter in doubt where this god and his vile followers are concerned. We’ve sold none of our relics in weeks. We need every rit we have to live on—and I haven’t budgeted for mandatory tithes to a god who has done nothing for me.”

“I have some money with me—primarily Arissonese coin, but that still spends,” Faia told her. “You can have that to add to your budget. After all you and Bytoris have done for me…”

Renina nodded “I thank you. I don’t know how much longer we’re going to be able to survive if things don’t improve—but that will help.”

Bytoris came in from the walled-in garden at the back of the house, with Edrouss Delmuirie right behind. Both looked serious.

“The roarer is done,” Bytoris said.

Edrouss lifted Faia to her feet, pulled her tightly against him, and kissed her. “We can take it out tonight or tomorrow. We even thought of a way to get it past the guards. We can’t test it to be sure it will work until we have it outside the city—I can just imagine what would happen to us if the Klogs answered the roarer’s call while we were inside the city walls.”

Faia said, “I don’t want to wait until tomorrow. I want to get this over with—if we can bring Thirk down tonight, so much the better.”

“Fine,” Bytoris said. “But Delmuirie and I will go. You’re not well enough to make the trip yet.”

“I want to be there.”

Edrouss looked from Bytoris to her, then back to Bytoris. “I think she should be there, too. I want her with us.”

“We can take her, I suppose. We’ll be traveling most of the way in the wagon.”

“Good.” Edrouss put an arm around Faia’s waist and kissed her cheek. “Then it’s settled. We’ll call them tonight.”

EVERYONE packed the little goat wagon in silence. Faia helped Edrouss and her brother hide the disassembled pieces of the roarer in clay pots. Then they filled the rest of the goat wagon with empty pots. As an afterthought, Edrouss picked up one of the reproductions of the Klaue-Annin treaty Bytoris had set his children to work on.

“You don’t have the texture of the tablet right,” he said, studying it. “I’ll tell you—you aren’t going to get it right, either. The Klogs used ground bone in their slip—”

“Human?” Faia asked. The idea horrified her.

“No. Klog. They did not bury their dead. The librarians and other ‘great’ Klaue went down into the catacombs when they were ready to die. The rest died in their homes, and their bodies were dragged off by the living and used to make tablet-clay.” He shook his head, and put the tablet along one side of the cart. “You might fool people who have never seen the real thing with this,” he told Bytoris, “but do not try selling it to anyone who has ever seen the real thing.”

They hooked the goat to the cart, and Bytoris hugged his wife. “We’ll be back as soon as we can. Wish us luck.”

“Luck.” She and their children stood by the gate, identical worried expressions on their faces.

The children’s whispery voices called, “Luck, Papa!” and “Hurry back!” and then Bytoris clucked to the goat and tugged at the bridle. The cart lurched forward, the goat’s hooves clicked across the paving stones, the wooden wheels clattered, the pots rattled together, and they were on their way.

Faia rode atop the cart seat, with Edrouss and Bytoris walking to either side. Cool twilight brought out the worst of the city stink, a nearly visible miasma born of garbage and excrement and stagnant water and acrid smoke. Disease could not help but follow such a stink, Faia thought. The healer had mentioned some sickness—but it would only get worse.

Cookfires burned in homes throughout a city that had not needed wood fires in hundreds of years. She wondered where a city full of people got enough wood to burn. From their furniture, perhaps; that wouldn’t last long. Certainly from the trees that had once lined the larger avenues—the stumps of those stood up like broken teeth in a battered mouth on either side of roads they rattled down.

The city was quiet far too early—in twilight, the streets should have been full of neighbors on front steps, talking, and children running and playing. But hardly anyone shared the streets of Bonton with her and her brother and her betrothed. Faia saw only shave-headed men in white robes—Servants of the One True God—walking; and a man or two on horseback; and the few people who burned trash in the alleys beside their houses, adding to the stink.

I suppose everyone else is inside because of the smell, she decided.

Further along the road, she discovered how wrong she was. Three Servants stepped into the street from a corner, and held up their hands. Bytoris brought the cart to a halt.

“The One True God has declared the hours between sunset and sunrise a time for fasting and prayer,” one of the men said. “Who are you to ignore his decree?”

Bytoris clasped his hands and hung his head. “We are followers of the One True God who must find a place to sell our wares or we will have no money to pay our tithes. We plan to travel all night so that tomorrow we can, perhaps, begin to sell our pots and jars in the nearby villages.”