The Flames of Dragons (7 page)

The paddy blurred as Iren dashed across it. With both hands he ripped at the weeds growing between the rice plants.

At this speed, telling the difference between what to pull and what to leave was almost impossible. But that was the point. He had to learn to pick out subtle differences even at high speeds.

Iren doubted his father had ever trained this way. In fact, he doubted pulling weeds had ever been part of any Dragon Knight’s training.

Still, it seemed to be working. When he’d started this morning, he couldn’t even tell where the weeds were. Now, as the sun set, he was getting the hang of it. He still occasionally grabbed a rice plant, or tripped and fell in the muck, but those mistakes came less and less often.

When dusk fell, Iren gave up for the day. Exhausted from running flat-out since morning, he left the paddy at a leisurely pace. He stopped at the well to draw some water and wash off the mud that caked him.

With his clothes and skin visible again, he headed for Goro and Chiyo’s home. His stomach grumbled at the thought of dinner. Even though Chiyo had only the most basic ingredients, her cooking was excellent. The meals were earthy and informal, like the woman who made them.

As Iren neared the tiny farmhouse, though, Goro and Chiyo were outside in front of the door. Goro had his jaw set like he was about to enter battle, and Chiyo wrung her hands as though she feared he wouldn’t come back from the fight.

At first Iren worried the two of them had seen him racing around, but he dismissed the possibility. The rice paddies were at a higher elevation than the house, so the angle was wrong to see a person working in them.

Iren put a hand behind his head and smiled nervously. “I hope I’m not late for dinner again. I wanted to finish the weeding before I came down.”

Chiyo’s eyes widened. “You pulled all the weeds in one day?”

“I guess so,” Iren said. “Is that unusual?”

Goro’s scowl deepened. “Not at all,” he spat. “It’s perfectly normal for a ronin.”

Iren rocked back on his heels. He knew the word “ronin” from his education in Maantec culture from Hana. It wasn’t a title that garnered respect. A ronin was a highborn warrior who had lost his lord’s favor. Usually they picked up odd jobs as mercenaries, but occasionally they stooped to banditry.

“So I’m right,” Goro said. “Why don’t you tell us what you’re really doing here? You’re no wandering farmhand; I’m certain of that. I know that was you running around the forest last night.”

Iren sighed. Where to even begin? Lying wouldn’t help, and he doubted he could pull it off anyway. At the same time, though, he didn’t want them to find out that he was Iren Saito’s son, or about Divinion.

Maybe a partial truth would work. “I did come from Hiabi,” he said, “but I wasn’t sworn to service by anyone there. I’m originally from Lodia, far to the north. I came to Hiabi for training, but it wasn’t what I expected. I couldn’t return to Lodia, so I started wandering Shikari.”

It was all true, though it left out a lot of important details. It seemed to work for Chiyo, but Goro remained unmoved. “A highborn up and leaves Hiabi, and nobody there gives a damn?” he asked. “I don’t buy it. Lord Melwar doesn’t seem the type to let someone like you leave without a plan to get you back. He’ll send men after you. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Iren frowned. He had no idea what Melwar would do. It had been more than a month since the showdown outside Hiabi, and Iren had seen nothing of the Maantec lord or his servants since. Surely if Melwar or Hana wanted to find him, they would have done so by now.

Still, he had no choice but to agree with Goro. Melwar had put months of effort into Iren’s training. Iren thought it unlikely the noble would forget about him. “I don’t know of anyone pursuing me,” he said, “but that doesn’t mean they aren’t. It’s a possibility.”

“And that’s why you’re hiding here,” Goro finished for him. “You want to avoid Lord Melwar’s patrols.”

“Not at all. I just needed a way to keep fed while I continued my training.”

“What are you training for that’s so important?”

Iren paused. If he said much more, everything was going to come spilling out. “My parents were murdered,” he told them. “I want to become strong enough to avenge them.”

Chiyo’s left hand went to her mouth. She wrapped her other arm around Goro’s. “Please, Goro, stop this.”

“We agreed, Chiyo,” Goro retorted. “It has to be done. Katsu, you can’t stay here. You’ve put this farm in danger. If Lord Melwar’s men find out we’re harboring a ronin, they’ll kill us. You have to leave.”

Iren felt like the man had punched him in the face. He’d only worked here a month, and already they were tossing him out.

“I understand,” he said at last. “I won’t endanger you further. I’ll leave immediately.” He turned and walked away.

*   *   *

This was wrong. Everything about this was wrong. Chiyo watched Katsu get smaller and smaller. Why had she agreed to this?

“It’s for the best,” Goro said. “Come on inside. Let’s have dinner.”

“All right,” she replied, but then a thought came to her. “Goro, you head on in. I didn’t say goodbye to him. I want to do that. Will you let me?”

Goro folded his arms, but he said, “Be careful.”

“I will.”

Her husband went inside. The moment the door shut, Chiyo ran to catch up with Katsu.

“Katsu, wait!” she called.

The man hesitated a moment, then stopped and faced her. “Chiyo?” he asked. “What’s the matter?”

Chiyo bowed to him. “I wanted to thank you,” she said. “Goro might not see it, but you’ve done a lot for us. I’m glad you stayed here as long as you did.”

Katsu briefly inclined his head. “You’re welcome. Farewell.”

“No, wait!”

Chiyo’s heart raced. What was she doing? She and Goro had agreed.

“You told us you were training to avenge your parents,” she said. “Why did you come all the way here to do that? What about Lodia? Couldn’t you train there?”

Katsu looked at the sky. It had darkened into night. A half moon shone through a thin veil of clouds.

“Lodia hates me because I’m a Maantec, a ‘Left,’” he said. “All humans are right-handed, so a left-handed Maantec sticks out. There was no place for me but Shikari. Yet even here . . .”

Chiyo’s lips turned down even as her eyes softened. She had been right about this man all along. She had let Goro’s suspicions get to her, but now she would make things right. “Katsu,” she said, “may I see your hands?”

The man’s brow furrowed at her request, but he held out his hands. Chiyo took them in hers. A month of farm work had calloused them, yet beneath that was a softness, an innocence wounded but not destroyed.

“You’re a good person,” Chiyo said.

“If you knew me, you wouldn’t say that.”

“It’s because I know you that I can say it. You say you want to avenge your parents, but I feel in your hands something different. That isn’t the reason you’ve come this far. You have a gentle heart. It doesn’t want to fight.”

Katsu yanked away his hands like Chiyo had stabbed them. His eyes were huge.

“What is it?” Chiyo asked. “Did I say something wrong?”

Katsu held taut for several seconds before he gradually relaxed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Long ago, someone I cared about a lot said something similar to me. I never thought I’d hear those words again, especially not here in Shikari.”

Chiyo made up her mind. “Katsu, please stay. We need you. Goro and I have a hard time keeping the farm going. We struggle every year just to feed ourselves and pay our tribute to Hiabi. Thanks to your help, we could have our best harvest in centuries.”

“What about Goro?” Katsu asked. “What about Melwar?”

Chiyo winced, as much from the mention of Lord Melwar’s name as her husband’s. The lack of honorific showed how Katsu thought about the noble. He considered Lord Melwar an equal. He really was a ronin, someone of incredible status and power.

She wouldn’t hesitate though. What she’d told him was true. They did need his help. But more important, Chiyo sensed, in a way she couldn’t express, that Katsu needed their help too.

“Let me handle Goro,” she said. “I was weak this morning, but not anymore. I’ll make sure he understands. It’s best if you don’t come for dinner tonight, but be around for breakfast tomorrow. I’ll straighten it out by then.”

Katsu was motionless a moment. Then he stepped back and bowed so low his eyes faced the ground.

Chiyo blushed. “A highborn shouldn’t bow to a farmer’s wife.”

The man straightened. “I’m a ronin,” he said, like it was as basic an admission as saying he was male. “I’ll bow to anyone who earns my respect.”

Chiyo smiled. She had made the right choice. There was something broken inside this man. Maybe together, they could fix it.

Elyssa Orianna, mayor of Kataile, sat on her padded silver throne doing something she almost never did: tap her foot.

The nerve of that man! He was late. He was just like his father.

A loud, echoing knock came at the door. Elyssa knew it must be him. Any of her guards or couriers would have given a tentative strike. This person had no such reluctance. He walked his course straight ahead, without shame.

“Come in,” Elyssa said, forcing down her emotions. No matter who he might look or act like, Balear was Balear.

The one-armed man entered the chamber. Elyssa motioned for her guards to exit.

The last time she’d asked them for privacy with Balear, they’d looked on the edge of defiance. Today none of them hesitated.

“Shut the door,” Elyssa commanded when she and Balear were alone. She had to be in charge of him. Balear understood order, discipline, and rank. Elyssa needed to establish where each of them sat in relation to the other.

Balear did as instructed. That was a good start.

“I’ve heard a curious rumor,” Elyssa said. She leaned back in her throne. “I understand you broke the fountain on the third level.”

The former general shrugged. If he had any regrets about his action, he kept them hidden. That was like Balio too. “The Auryozaki isn’t a delicate weapon,” he said, as though that were all the explanation warranted.

“I trust you intend to pay for the damage.”

The corners of Balear’s mouth tightened. “Not at all,” he replied.

Of course he didn’t. There was no way a wandering traitor could replace a broken fountain. This just meant Elyssa could get more work out of him in retribution. He had walked right into her trap. She put a hand to her chest in mock surprise. “What?” she asked. “Are you suggesting the town should bear the cost for your irresponsible actions?”

The general’s face grew stern. “No,” he said, “I’m saying it should be left as it is.”

His seriousness took Elyssa aback. “But it cannot stay that way,” she countered. “We’re a tourist town. We survive by being clean and beautiful.”

Balear’s expression did not relent. “All the more reason to leave it. It’ll be a good reminder. Far worse destruction will befall Kataile if another city attacks. If your people are so angered by that small blemish, then it should encourage them not to let any more happen.”

Elyssa’s eyebrow twitched. She had no response to that.

“If that’s all, Lady Orianna,” Balear said, “I’m missing a training session.”

Elyssa chewed her lip. Balear was like Balio in several ways, but this sternness was different. Balio was always relaxed. He was the rare man who could cross lines, equally comfortable wining and dining with Kataile’s elite as he was belting out bawdy tunes in a portside tavern.

Balear wasn’t that man. If people listened to him, it was through the sheer force of his presence. He could do what no man—not even Balio—had ever done to Elyssa.

He could intimidate her.

Those indomitable blue eyes were still on her. She couldn’t bear them, but neither could she let him have the advantage. There was only one way to take back the initiative.

She smiled. “Actually, there is one more thing,” she said. “I thought you might want to hear more about how I knew Balio.”

That got his attention. Balear’s shoulders slackened. His eyes lost their fire.

Elyssa kept up her warm expression, but inside her grin was more devious. Every man had a weakness she could exploit. For some it was money. For others it was sex. For Balear it was knowledge of his father.

“Tell me,” Balear said.

“I trust you know your father served as a bodyguard aboard Lodian ships. Even though Ceere was closer to his home, Kataile was his port of choice. Do you know why?”

Balear shook his head. Elyssa forced herself not to smirk. “It was because of me. If he boarded in Kataile, he would get to see me.”

The soldier’s lone hand clenched. “Are you telling me my father had an affair?”

The challenge in his voice made Elyssa flinch. “Nothing like that,” she stammered, off balance again despite herself. “We were friends. Much to my disappointment, that’s all we ever were.”

Balear’s hand relaxed. “I should get back to the men. Farewell.”

Elyssa frowned. So even knowledge of his father wasn’t an effective tool.

It was time to up the stakes. She hadn’t wanted to use this weapon so soon, but it might be the only way to rein in Balear before he swept control of her city out from under her.

“One moment, Balear,” Elyssa said. “Your father and I might only have been friends, but I was closest to him among all the learned class in Kataile. The last time I saw him alive, he asked me for a favor. You see, your father never learned to read or write. That day, he wanted me to record his thoughts on a scroll, a scroll that was to be read only by his son.”

Balear went limp. His arm trembled. “I was a toddler when my father left. Why would he leave a scroll for me?”

“When you read it, you’ll understand.”

“Where is it?” Balear asked. He seemed to choke on the words. “Is it here?”

She had him. “I wouldn’t risk it being left in the open,” Elyssa said. “I keep it under lock and key. I’ll tell you what. I plan on visiting you tomorrow during your training session. I want to observe it. If I like what I see, perhaps I’ll show you the scroll.”

Balear cocked an eyebrow. “And if you don’t like what you see?”

Elyssa gave him her most mysterious smile, one honed over two decades of politics. “Then I’ll show it to everyone.”