Progeny (The Children of the White Lions) (24 page)

That had settled Nikalys down for a time, but he was up again, pacing back and forth across the campsite. She had asked him to stop a few times, but he had either not heard her or was ignoring her requests. The scraping of his feet shuffling across the rocky soil was growing increasingly irksome. “Nik? Please sit down.”

He did not.

On his next pass, she stuck her leg out from her skirt. His foot caught on her ankle and he tumbled to the dirt, catching himself with his hands. Lying prone, he glared at her. “What in the Nine Hells was that for?”

With fire in her eyes, Kenders snapped, “I asked you to sit down four times! You’re wearing a blasted trench in the ground!”

Nikalys turned over and sat up, drawing his knees halfway to his chest. After brushing dirt from his legs and shirt, he inspected his hands for any scrapes. Seeing none, he frowned at his sister and draped his arms over his legs, baring his forearms. Kenders noticed all of his injuries from the fingerprick bushes were gone. Hers were, too.

Nikalys let out a long sigh and stared into the forest. The flames from the campfire lit up one side of his face. “They’ve been gone for a long time.”

“Jak will be fine.”

“How do you know that?”

“I don’t. But I trust Broedi, even if you and Jak don’t.”

Shaking his head, he looked back to her. He had a twig and a dry oak leaf stuck in his hair, both gained during his fall. “What was all that whispering about? And why in the Nine Hells did Jak go off with him?”

As Kenders could not answer either question, she did not try.

Nikalys reached up and pulled the twig from his hair, leaving the leaf.

With a tiny smile, she said, “There’s a leaf, too.”

Nikalys rolled his eyes up as if he might be able to glimpse the top of his head. He felt around for the leaf and, upon finding it, took it, and tossed it to the forest floor.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

As Nikalys went back to staring into the dark, Kenders looked back to her lap. Their mother’s pendant rested in a little depression where her dress dipped between her crossed legs. She wanted to tell Nikalys something about the necklace—preferably before Jak got back—but was hesitant.

Her reluctance irritated her. Since discovering she was a mage, she had not felt herself. She had become timid and cautious. She did not like it. Making a conscious decision to be impulsive—if that were possible—she pressed her lips together, eyed her brother, and spoke.

“Remember those Strands Broedi mentioned?”

Nikalys expression turned wary in an instant.

“What about them?”

“When you used the necklace, I saw more of them. Silver ones. They led from the necklace straight to me.”

Nikalys’ uneasiness grew. He grimaced and shifted positions. “To you?”

Kenders said, “And then when I thought of you, they led to you.”

His frown deepened as he eyed the necklace in her lap. “So it is magic, then?”

“Is water wet?”

Frowning, Nikalys shook his head. “We shouldn’t have used it.”

“You were curious, Nik. I certainly was. Jak, too, I think.”

With a dry chuckle, Nikalys said, “Being curious about magic is not a good thing.”

Kenders was afraid to tell him that was part of the problem. She was curious now. The silver Strands she had seen were beautiful, sparkling and glittering like the morning sun dancing off a thousand tiny waves.

Nikalys looked over and nodded at the necklace. “We should leave it out here.”

“What? Why?”

“Nothing good can come from it, Kenders. Nothing at all.”

With a derisive huff, Kenders said, “You certainly have a short memory. Need I point out that without the necklace, Jak most likely would have never…found…” She trailed off, her eyes narrowing as a moment from her past revisited her. With a note of mild surprise, she muttered, “Huh.”

“What?”

With wonder, she said, “Remember when I broke my leg in the north grove?”

“Sure. You fell out of a tree after Mother told you to stop climbing them.”

Nodding, Kenders said, “I couldn’t walk. I just lay in the leaves, crying. Gods, my leg hurt.” She looked to her brother. “I was terrified. I didn’t know how I was going to get home.”

“Ketus must have been with you, else Mother and Father would have never found you.”

“I’m thinking luck had nothing to do with it.”

She had only been lying there for a short time, curled up at the base of the tree, when her mother and father had come running through the forest. Her father had scooped her up and carried her home where the village healer set her leg.

Peering at Nikalys, she said, “I always wondered how they knew I was hurt. And why they came looking for me there. I asked Mother a few weeks later while we were making tarts. She looked at me and, with this funny smile on her face, she said ‘A mother knows, dear.’”

Nikalys’ gaze returned to the silver teardrop pendant, a frown on his face.

Taking a chance, she suggested, “Perhaps magic can be a good thing?”

He looked away, took a deep breath, and exhaled. “Magic is outlawed
,
Kenders.
Outlawed.
You use it, the Constables take you. No questions asked.”

Kenders dropped her gaze back to the necklace. “You don’t need to remind me. Remember, I’m the one who disappears if we get caught.”

Nikalys sighed, scooted closer, and reached his arm around her shoulders. She tilted her head, resting it on him, and stared into the fire. After a few quiet moments, she said, “Please don’t ever tell Jak about me. I don’t want to scare him.”

He gave her a gentle squeeze. “I won’t.”

So far, Jak remained ignorant of what she was. Neither Nikalys nor she had told him, and Broedi was as talkative as a tree. Whatever his reason for his silence on the subject, Kenders was grateful to the hillman.

Lifting her eyes to Nikalys’ face, she said, “When we get to Smithshill, I think I should stay with Broedi while you and Jak go into the city.”

He pulled back a little to stare down at her.

“Why?”

“Think about it. You said how dangerous it would be for me to go to the Constables, yes? Now I don’t have to.”

Nikalys shook his head, murmuring, “I don’t know.”

“What? You want me to go with you?”

“Of course not.”

“Then you want me to stay with Jak and you go alone?”

He grimaced. “Not so much.”

“I could always wait by myself outside the—”

“Fine,” interjected Nikalys. “You’ve made your point. You stay with Broedi.” His expression hardened. “Just be careful while we’re gone. You were right earlier. I don’t trust him.”

“He’s a good soul, I think. I’ll be fine.” She smiled up at him. “You worry too much.”

The deep frown Nikalys gave her prompted her to reach up and playfully slap his cheek. “Stop that. You look like Father when you scowl.”

The moment she said it, she froze. She had just referred to their father as though he were still alive. The sorrow that she managed to keep at bay most of the time returned, swift and unrelenting.

With a bittersweet smile, Nikalys said, “You know, it’s my job to look after you now. Mine and Jak’s. Father would want us to.”

Fixing him with a steady stare, she cocked a lone eyebrow. “Who says it’s not my job to look after you?"

His eyes narrowed a touch, and the wistful smile turned into slight frown. “You know what I mean.”

She sighed and decided now was not the time to remind Nikalys that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. “I know, Nikalys.” She dropped her gaze, rested her head on his shoulder, and whispered, “I know.”

The two fell into a comfortable, melancholy silence, waiting for Jak and Broedi to return. They did not have to wait long.

A short while later, a rustling to the north brought them to their feet. Broedi entered the camp carrying four rabbits and tossed them at Nikalys’ feet without uttering a word. Jak emerged from the forest a few moments later, carrying two quail. The tan leather bundle was strapped to his back. He, too, remained silent.

Kenders searched both of their faces, hoping to puzzle out what had happened. She discerned nothing from Broedi’s typical stoicism. Jak, on the other hand, looked a mess.

Physically, he was fine. His expression, however, was a mixed stew of emotions, so many playing across his face that Kenders had a difficult time placing them. She glimpsed anger, disbelief, fear, betrayal, and something else she could not name. Kenders met Nikalys’ eyes and saw that he was reading their brother the same way.

Looking to the pair, Nikalys asked, “So, how was the hunting?” He smiled. “Took you long enough.” His tone was jovial, but forced.

Without looking at them, Broedi rumbled, “It took longer than I had hoped.” He eyed Jak. “The prey was uncooperative.”

The comment drew a sharp look from Jak. Broedi held Jak’s glare, unflinching. Finally, Jak broke away and shifted his gaze to Nikalys and Kenders. He still hovered at the edge of the campsite, over twenty paces from them.

“Jak?” asked Kenders. “Are you okay?”

He stared a moment longer before mumbling, “Go ahead and eat without me. I’m not hungry.”

He tossed the quail on the ground and moved to where his gear was. He took off the leather case and lay down with his back facing them. Kenders started to walk across the campsite but was intercepted by Broedi.

The hillman rested his thick hand on her shoulder, engulfing it. “Leave him be, uora
.
The hunt was hard on him.” Nodding in Nikalys’ direction, he said, “Perhaps your other kaveli would like some help?” His eyes and voice both were gentle but the message was firm: leave Jak alone.

She nodded and with one last searching glance at her eldest brother, walked to where Nikalys was already preparing to skin rabbits. He was staring across the camp at Jak, wearing an expression of obvious concern.

As Kenders settled next to him, he leaned close and whispered, “What happened out there?”

“I’m not sure, Nik,” muttered Kenders. She glanced back at the prone form of Jak again, worried. “I’m not sure.”

Nikalys dropped a handful of dirt onto the last of the campfire coals. Once he was sure the fire was indeed extinguished, he moved to collect his belongings, staring up at the tiny yellow-feathered arause fluttering about from bough to branch, flapping their wings furiously and chirping like mad. The birds had been awake and twittering for hours, but they were using the sun’s arrival as an excuse to sing their songs even louder.

Broedi had awakened them when the sky was first shifting from black to gray, urging an early start. He promised that if they pushed hard this morning, they would reach the outskirts of Smithshill by midday.

Broedi rumbled, “Are we ready?”

The three Isaac children nodded.

“Then let us go.”

The hillman turned and began to walk east. Kenders, Jak, and Nikalys followed.

Jak’s mood from the night before continued throughout the morning. Nikalys tried to make idle conversation with him, but received only short, clipped answers for his efforts. After a few single-word responses from Jak, Nikalys stopped trying. If he did not want to talk, Nikalys was not going to beg.

Summer’s typical, sweltering heat returned as the sun climbed higher in the sky, doing its best to pierce through the tree canopy. Birds that had been singing noisily at dawn went silent, hiding in the slightly cooler shade, content to wait until evening returned to resume their songs. Even the insects buzzing about the forest seemed to lose some determination in the heat.

Near midday, Nikalys noticed a gentle roaring mixing with the normal hum of the forest. His eyes opened wide. It sounded like the water creature that had destroyed Yellow Mud. Alarmed, he asked, “Does anyone else hear that?”

“It is the White Falls, uori,” rumbled Broedi without stopping. “We are nearing Smithshill.”

Relief flooded Nikalys. He wondered if he would react that way every time he heard a waterfall now.

They followed Broedi’s sure step up another hill as the roar steadily increased. Upon cresting the top, the four emerged from the trees and stared down at the dual cities of Smithshill.

“We are here,” announced Broedi.

The Southern Road was on their right, looping around from the southwest, leading to a fork a half-mile below them. The left branch ran east along a flat plateau, straight into the upper half of Smithshill. Named Hilltop by its residents, the upper city rested on the shores of Lake Hawthorne and overlooked the White Falls. The right fork twisted down the side of a steep cliff face, into the valley, and through the lower city of Fallsbottom. Traffic heading to Fallsbottom was laden with crates, barrels, and stuffed bags, while the uphill cartage consisted mostly of empty wagons, carts, and bare packhorses.

The two halves of the city were very different from one another. Fallsbottom was for workers, laborers, or skilled artisans such as blacksmiths or carpenters. Inns and taverns catered to a rougher type of soul and were a good deal cheaper than the nicer establishments in Hilltop. Goods were floated over Lake Hawthorne, arrived at the docks in Hilltop, and moved by cart into Fallsbottom. There, the items were stacked onto river rafts and floated down the Great White River to the distant coast.

Fallsbottom sat just far enough away from the White Falls that the river was no longer churning and choppy from the falling water. Yet it was close enough that a constant mist bathed everything, turning the entire town into a soggy, dripping mess. Buildings were coated with a tarry substance that made the dark-stained wood resistant to the constant moisture.

Every time Nikalys and Jak had been to Smithshill with their father, they had headed straight to Fallsbottom to trade their grapes and olives. Nikalys had asked once if they could go to Hilltop and his father had shaken his head, saying, “The air in Hilltop reeks of conceit.”

The upper city was full of rich merchants, government officials, diplomats, minor nobles, or anyone with a large purse or important title. Free of the persistent mist of the falls, the buildings consisted of expensive limestone with flat oak-plank roofs painted tan or some other light color to refute the sun’s heat. The city, with Lake Hawthorne sparkling beside it, was picturesque.