Our Lady of the Islands (19 page)

Sian walked behind Reikos as they made their careful way back up the cliff-side path; Pino followed her. As they climbed, a fog rolled in, wrapping the island’s palm-and-wild banana-fringed bluffs in its muffling embrace. The weather was well suited to their introspective states of mind, Sian thought. The men appeared as lost in private ruminations as she was as they wandered back along the darkened streets of Three Cats, listening to the night-calls of tree frogs and crickets.

What had Reikos seen inside himself during the priest’s speech, Sian wondered. And why had she seen nothing — except suspicions of deceit? She still wasn’t sure what she had done to that young man when she had held him in her arms. Though she had felt no echoing ‘pain,’ the memory of all that ginger told her that her gift had been employed to some effect. But how, exactly? She had never asked him who he was, or where he had really come from, or even what his name was … She had meant to, but her whole life seemed to steer itself these days. Or it was being steered. Was that not what he had suggested at the end? Not a completely new thought, or a comforting one. She recalled again the frightening, haunted-eyed child she had seen on Pembo’s Beach … had that been just this morning?

“I … I hate to say this.” Sian broke their silence at last. “But I am rather hungry again.”

Pino laughed, then pretended he had just been clearing his throat.

“We’ll find another tavern,” said Reikos, still uncharacteristically withdrawn. “And another runner-cart. If we wish to reach
Fair Passage
before dawn.”

“What time is it, do you think?”

“Too late to be walking all the way to Cutter’s,” Reikos said. “Pino, while I find someplace to feed our lady, would you mind going to see if you can find a cart for hire somewhere at this hour? We will meet you back here in, say, half an hour?”

“Gladly,” Pino said, already jogging off.

“So, what did the priest’s new world look like?” Sian asked when he was gone. “To you.”

Reikos turned to her, surprised, she thought, and gave her a long look. “You were in it. I can tell you that much.”

She drew a startled breath, and looked away. So, he did still want her. She had suspected as much. Was that a problem? How big a problem? She was not sure — of anything right now. She shook her head without intending to, feeling exposed. This was not a conversation she was ready for. Not tonight, with everything else she had just been through.

“More than that, I do not know quite how to describe to you,” said Reikos, looking off into the misty night as well. “Perhaps we should be looking for that tavern, eh?”

Before she could answer, they heard the sound of running feet. A second later, Pino came dashing toward them out of the swirling fog.

“You’ve already found a cart?” Reikos called.

Pino shook his head urgently, bringing a finger to his lips to silence them. “There’s a squad of soldiers coming,” he panted. “Not the temple, but not just some patrol either, my lady. They’re searching for something.”

Instantly, Sian recalled the murmurs passed behind her when the priest had named her. Or had their cart runners earlier been less disinterested than they’d seemed?

Pino gave Sian a worried look. “I think we better go, and fast.”

Reikos grabbed her hand and started pulling her away.

“No, stop.” She took her hand back. “You both heard what the god’s priest told me.” It was perhaps the only clear thing he had said to her all night. “I am done running. I am done following fear. Let us find that tavern, just as we had planned.”

“Don’t be mad!” said Reikos. “This is not what he meant.”

“What did he mean, then?”

“He also asked us to protect you!” Pino pled. “He can’t have meant you should just give yourself to them.”

“I’m not giving myself to anyone,” she answered, wondering if men
ever
learned to listen. “I’m just doing what I had set out to do, and letting them do whatever they are meant to. If that is finding me, and this god allows it, I’ll go with them and see if our young prophet was correct.”

“Sian, please!” Reikos reached again to take her hand, but she withdrew it from him.

“Which way are they coming from, Pino?”

He pointed back behind him.

“Then we’ll start looking for our tavern this way,” Sian said, starting off in the opposite direction. “Are you coming, gentlemen?”

“Oh, she is a handful,” Reikos sighed.

“Don’t I know it,” Pino muttered. “I worked for her, remember?”

Sian arched a brow in amusement. The first disparaging words she’d ever heard him speak — about herself, at least. Could the boy be growing up at last?

They had walked hardly more than two blocks before the fog parted in front of them again to reveal a party of five armed men. Not Mishrah-Khote — these wore short leather skirts and body armor, cap helmets, and carried pikes.

Reikos turned to Pino. “I thought you said —”

“This isn’t them,” Pino said under his breath.

Two patrols?
Sian thought. From the Factorate this time, if their unusually fancy armor was any indication. Could she have come to seem this dangerous to everyone already?

“Halt!” shouted their commanding officer, identified by his elegant uniform, lace collar, and feather crested leather helmet.

“My lady, would you be Domina Sian Kattë, of Little Loom Eyot?”

Ah well. She only sighed as Reikos pulled her close, almost shoving her behind him while Pino drew in toward her other side.

“What do you want?” Reikos growled.

Sian felt him reach for something underneath his coat, and grabbed his arm to stop him. Weapons were the last thing any of them needed now.

“I am,” she told the man. “May I know why the Factorate sees fit to honor me with such a well-armed escort? Have you some cause to be concerned about my safety?”

“I am Prefect-Sergeant Ennias,” said the grim-faced young officer. “We’ve been ordered to find you in regard to a complaint filed by your husband, Arouf Monde.”

“
Arouf?
That’s ridiculous. What could he possibly …” But then, what might he
not
do? Now. The Factorate did not serve complaints, however. She knew that much. Could this officer be lying, or were they working with the Mishrah-Khote priests? What a strange union that would be.

“May I know the nature of this complaint?” Sian asked, her heart pounding.

The sergeant reached underneath his surcoat and withdrew a sealed envelope, which he held out to her.

“Don’t touch it, Sian,” said Reikos. “I’d wager my boat it is a trap of some kind.”

“The matter requires immediate attention, I’m afraid,” the sergeant said.

“One has five days to answer complaints,” she said, ever more alarmed. Nothing about this transaction was at all correct.

“I tell you, do not touch it,” Reikos warned again.

“We are three against five,” she told him levelly.
Not to mention they are far better armed than we are, whatever you’ve got concealed in that coat
. She stepped from behind him and reached for the envelope.
Don’t hide. Don’t fear.
That’s what the priest had said.
Even bodies can be left behind, if necessary
. He had said that too, of course … “Thank you, Sergeant.”

She opened the envelope and removed two folded sheets of cream-colored paper.

“I cannot read this in the dark.”

Ennias signaled to one of his pikemen, who brought out a small punk-torch and lit it. The glow was irregular and flickering, but sufficient.

She scanned the document, expecting the flowery language of the Mishrah-Khote, but no. “What in the…”

“What is it?” Reikos leaned in.

“It’s from Arouf.”

“Did he not say so?”

“No, I mean this letter is from him directly, in his own hand.” Sian held the papers out to Reikos, whose face darkened as he read.

“That wretched…infidelity and abandonment? Who have you abandoned?”

Sian flushed with anger, and some embarrassment, her mind racing. She knew things were badly broken with Arouf, but … They’d had an understanding, after all, of sorts. Of course they did.

Prefect-Sergeant Ennias cleared his throat. “You are to come with me, Domina Kattë.”

Sian looked up at the man, startled. “Certainly not. I see no arrest warrant here. I will compose my response and answer the complaint in the usual statutory time.” She glanced at Reikos and Pino, then took a confident step forward, moving to brush past the armed guards.

Four long pikes were raised to stop her.

“Has the lady not made herself clear?” Reikos growled. “You are outside the law.” He took a step toward Sian and two of the raised pikes were turned on him.

Before Sian could draw breath to object, Pino came hurtling past her with a cry of rage and, to her horror, a knife raised in his hand.

“No! Pino, stop!” she shouted.

To his credit, he got close enough to slash the forearm of one disbelieving pikeman before a second whirled to thrust his weapon into Pino’s side. The boy crumpled to the ground.

“Pino!” Sian screamed.

She lunged to touch him, but the sergeant grabbed her arm. Reikos pulled, of all things, a hand-cannon from underneath his coat and aimed it at the sergeant’s head.

“Are you serious?” asked the astonished sergeant. “You’re as likely to kill her as me with that reckless weapon. Or yourself.”

“I’ve had lots of practice with it, lad,” Reikos said. “Enough to take the chance, if you insist.”

“Stop it!” Sian said. “All of you! I will come with you, Sergeant. Reikos, put that stupid toy away, or I promise you, this is the last time we will ever speak. I mean it.”

Reikos gave her a desperate look, then seemed to wilt. No sooner had he lowered his weapon than two of the sergeant’s men rushed in to bind his hands behind his back.

“Sergeant, please. I must see to Pino,” Sian begged. Pino had begin to writhe and flail, clutching at his wound, his mouth stretched open in a cry of voiceless anguish.

Ennias did not release Sian’s arm. For all his effete clothing, the man’s grip seemed made of iron. “Is it true that you can heal, then?”

“Yes! Please let me help the boy. Look at how he suffers.”

“Heal my man first.” Ennias let go and shoved her forward, towards the wounded guard.

The man’s arm bled, but it still seemed just a cut. He stood there looking almost unconcerned, if slightly curious as she approached. It made her angry that she should be forced to waste her time on him when Pino’s wound was so clearly far more serious. Still, the faster it was done, the sooner she would be allowed to help Pino.

She placed her hands upon the pikeman’s arm, weaving her fingers through the slash in his pathetic, ceremonial leather grieve until her fingers touched his skin. She pressed the edges of his shallow laceration together as best she could, and willed it closed. The pain in her own forearm was sharp but brief, the smell of ginger almost too faint to detect. A very minor cut, as she had suspected. Pino had begin to moan aloud now.

The soldier looked down at his arm in wonder. “Gods and little fishes!” he exclaimed. “She did it!” He twisted his wrist to flex the arm experimentally. “I’m fit as ever, Sergeant.”

“Good,” Ennias said, seeming less surprised than most folk had thus far. “Let’s go.” He pulled a short span of rope off of his belt, and came to tie Sian’s hands.

“Wait!” she protested. “What about Pino?”

“The sooner we get where we’re going, without any further trouble,” he glared pointedly at Reikos, “the sooner you can see to him as well, my lady.”

“Bastard!” Reikos snarled.

“No! Sergeant, look at him! He cannot travel in such condition. Where are you —”

“Joreth, get the cart, please,” Ennias said dispassionately, then turned back to Sian. “I’ve spent time on lots of battlefields, my lady, and seen lots of wounds. The boy will live. He may not be very comfortable, but he should have thought of that before he rushed at my men with a knife.”

“Oh, Pino,” Sian moaned, twisting to look down at him. “Reckless boy. Don’t think of leaving me before I am allowed to touch you.” In the distance, she heard heavy wooden wheels rumbling toward them. “I will not forgive you if you die.”