The Prince of Exiles (The Exile Series) (33 page)

Raven just stared at him blankly.

Thank the Empress I’m not with Rikard. He’d be whipping me by now for sheer stupidity. Why can’t I understand this? What is he getting at?

“Do you see where I’m going?” Goldwyn asked, trying to catch his eye.

“I think you’re saying something about how the Empire and the Kindred are tied together somehow,” Raven muttered between his fingers. “Somehow they’re connected and …”

And then it hit him in a flash of understanding. His head jerked up and he looked at Goldwyn, who was watching him with unabashed excitement.

“And if the Empire and the Kindred are tied, then maybe they can disturb each other, like the rock. Or maybe a person from one of them can change the future of the other. But how could they do it? Is there a way that would be best?”

“Thank you for this conversation,” Goldwyn said, gray eyes dancing like clouds over a low, retreating tide.

The abrupt end to the conversation gave him something akin to mental whiplash. He felt as if the Elder had brought him right to the brink of a cliff and tripped him up just short of the edge instead of letting him jump off.

“That’s it?” He asked.

Goldwyn nodded.

“When you’ve figured out the next part,” he said with a smile, “come see me again. Don’t think too hard – do what you feel like doing. The answers to those final questions will come to you when you’re ready.”

And so Raven stood, not knowing what else to do.

“Thank you for your time Elder,” he said formally. “I will see you soon.”

“Thank you for the conversation Raven. I will see you when you wake.”

When he left Goldwyn’s manor, he found outside that the morning mist had faded and the sun was shining, though there was a bitter chill in the air that seemed to remind him insistently that the heart of winter was fast approaching; it had yet to snow in earnest, but it rained now nearly every day.

Don’t think too hard – do what you feel like doing. The answer will come to you when you least expect it.

“Okay,” he said to himself, “so what do I feel like doing?”

He looked up the street. Something caught his eye – visible over the nearby buildings was the distant bulk of the Barracks where the soldiers trained. It was referred to as the Bricks; the training arena was open to anyone who wanted to use it, and the mess cooks were liberal with the food if you were a friend of the soldiers. Thinking this was as good an idea as any, he decided to head in that direction and see if he could get a meal. And maybe afterwards he’d take a turn in the sparring arena; it had been a while since –

“Well look at this!” Roared a voice.

Raven turned to see Tomaz striding down the broad avenue, a whole cloud of vulture-like children swooping and crying around him, trying to grab his attention. Most of them were absolutely
filthy,
covered in three if not four layers of mud and so plastered with leaves and twigs that they could very well be mistaken for walking trees. Very small, shrill trees. With sharp, white fangs that could easily bite the fingers off unsuspecting former Princes.

“I see you’ve finally emerged from your hermitage!” Tomaz said as one of the children grabbed hold of the giant’s belt and hoisted itself onto the man’s back, elbowing Tomaz viciously in the ribs on its way.

“Yeah, I came to finish my thing with Goldwyn … are you sure it’s a good idea to let the boy do that?”

The boy in question stopped, looked over his fat, round little shoulder from under the tiny skull cap he wore and gave Raven a look that very clearly told him to go drop dead.

“What?” Tomaz asked, distracted. “Oh, Peter, yeah don’t worry. He won’t fall. He’ll pull my ears off before he does.”

And the boy, as if taking this for a suggestion, tugged so hard on Tomaz’s right ear Raven was certain it was about to rip off. But the giant didn’t seem to notice; he simply continued to hold out his enormous tree-trunk arms, upon which the other children were climbing in cacophonous bliss.

One little girl detached herself from the group and took a few cautious steps toward Raven. She looked up at him with big, dark eyes, her hair pulled back in two muddy, tangled tails.

“I – I finished the conversation early,” Raven said, taking a step back and eyeing the girl with profound distrust. He’d always been told children were the prime suspects in the spread of all contagion. Seeing the filthy, soiled face of this one, he believed it to be true.

She’s very cute though … if she wasn’t so dirty, of course.

“Well! I’m off early too,” Tomaz said, stepping forward and bodily dragging a dozen screaming, laughing children with him. “I’m just bringing the little ones back after their first adventure into the woods –

“Ad-ven-CHURRR!!” Screamed the children together; Raven jumped nearly a foot in the air and tried to pass it off as shifting his weight in dramatic fashion.

“ – and as soon as they’re with their parents again we can go spar if you’d like. I was thinking it had been a long time since I’d been to the Bricks and done a proper workout with Malachi. Would you be interested in coming along?”

“I was just thinking of heading that way myself,” Raven said, as nonchalant as possible. “I’ll wait here for you.”

“Actually, head down this street and turn left – there’s a shop called the Swinging Sign, Leah’s supposed to meet me there. She’s probably inside buying ink and paper or grinding stones or what have you, but let her know I’m on my way and we can all go together.”

“Right, sounds good.”

Tomaz, still covered in the swarming infestation of children, made his way down the street, past Goldwyn’s manor and around the corner.

Raven followed the giant’s instructions, and soon found himself outside a shop that did, indeed, boast a sign that swung in the wind. After waiting a moment or two in the street, awkwardly watching passersby, he decided to look in through the tall shop window to see if he could spot Leah. He was careful not to press his hands against the glass; he hated leaving fingerprints on things.

The inside of the shop was just as one would expect an ink and paper shop to look – full of ink and paper. There were few customers, and Raven caught sight of Leah easily; she was in the far back left corner, exchanging a number of Kindred coins for a large sheaf of parchment and a bottle of ink.

Raven pulled back and began to head for the door, but stopped. He turned back to look through the window again, and saw Leah smiling at the elderly shop owner, who was telling her some kind of story. She was dressed today in tight-fitted black pants, with a long green tunic over the top that came down to the middle of her thighs, discreetly hiding her hips. She had a cloak over her arm, and her black hair was free and flowing, not done up in its usual braid.

And then the older man finished his story, and she threw back her head and laughed. The motion and sound took him by surprise, and he felt himself smiling for no apparent reason. He could see her white teeth flashing as she said something back to the man, and he laughed as well. Her green eyes positively glowed with a warm contentment, and the man thanked her for her business. She nodded to him and turned to go.

Raven spun away from the window and pretended to look casually up the street, doing his best impression of a man with nothing better to do than wait.

Surprisingly, he waited for a long time. He suddenly felt self-conscious, though he wasn’t sure why. He’d trimmed his slowly growing beard – all the Kindred men wore them – and washed and combed his hair that morning. His clothes, while common, had been well cut. He was standing in a neutral stance, back straight, chin high, feet apart, arms clasped behind his back. Nothing was out of place. No one passing by seemed to be giving him a second thought.

Another moment passed as he waited for the girl, and the strangest feeling came over him … as if someone were watching him. His eyes flicked up to the top levels of the shops opposite him, but there were no open windows or prying eyes there. Unnerved, he turned back to the window, wondering what was keeping Leah.

He found her, just on the other side of the door, and as their eyes met she jumped, startled.

“Oh good!” Rumbled the voice of Tomaz behind him. “You found it all right.”

Raven turned away from the window as the giant came up beside him, his limbs now blessedly bereft of children. A small bell rang nearby and the door to the shop swung open to reveal Leah.

“What are you doing here?” She asked Raven, her expression polite but otherwise blank. Tomaz spoke before he could find an answer:

“Goldwyn let him off early. I figured I’d invite him to the Bricks with us.”

“Sounds good,” she said with small, indifferent smile. They all started walking, Raven and Leah on either side of Tomaz.

“My father let you out early?” She asked Raven. “What did you do – manage to explain the meaning of life?”

“I have no idea,” Raven said truthfully. “We were talking, and then he just smiled and said ‘thank you for the conversation, I’ll see you when you wake’.”

Both Tomaz and Leah groaned and he looked at them in surprise.

“What? What did I do?”

“He’s going to expect you to come back the next time remembering what you learned during this conversation,” Tomaz said. “I adore the man, but he can be a headache for certain.”

“I already feel like I talked myself hoarse, and it was only half the morning this time!”

“Here,” Leah said, untying a waterskin from around her waist.

He reached out to grab it and as he did his hand brushed hers and he suddenly felt oddly light. He uncorked the skin, drank, and handed it back. Neither of them said anything.

“Midwinter is coming up soon,” Tomaz said, who obviously hadn’t noticed a thing, “I’m excited for the Festival.”

“What happens at this Festival?” Raven asked. “I keep hearing people talk about it.”

“It’s a holiday of no work,” Leah said, “which means most people spend the day doing nothing. Except for the people who put on performances.”

“Performances?”

“People put on traditional plays and sing songs,” said Tomaz brightly, looking off into the distance in fond reminiscence. “It’s beautiful.”

“You’re such a sap,” Leah said, smiling at him.

“And I’m damn proud of it,” he replied, smiling right back.

“Do you perform?” He asked.

“She dances and sings sometimes,” Tomaz said jabbing a thumb at Leah, “but that’s not what she likes the most.”

“I’m an actor,” Leah explained.

“An
actor?
” He asked, unable to keep the prejudice out of his voice. Actors were the lowest of the low in the Baseborn class of Lucia, a simple tool used to content the masses and distract the ungrateful working class from any thoughts of rebellion. Raven had gone to see one of these plays once – a crude thing, erected on a shabby stage with masks and exaggerated motions that lauded the wonder of the Empress and the Children and how they dispensed justice throughout the land. Simplified propaganda was really all it was.

“Hey don’t look like that,” Tomaz rumbled. “She’s good.”

“Don’t you remember those awful things Imperials call plays?” Leah asked Tomaz. “I’m not really offended considering that’s all he has to go by.”

“I’ve seen some bards that were respectable,” Raven said, trying to be polite, but knowing that court bards were different creatures all together; they were professional entertainers that did juggling and foolery as well as singing and bawding. Actors … actors were dirty, nasty creatures that couldn’t hold two thoughts in their head at the same time lest one of them take surprise and cudgel the other to death.

“Just wait until Midwinter,” Tomaz boasted, “she’ll show you something you’ve never seen before.”

“I bet he’s already seen it all,” Leah said.

Raven choked on nothing and found himself coughing and sputtering, trying his best
not
to think of the time a few months ago when he’d surprised her at a stream in their flight south through the Empire – the time he’d seen the scars that covered most of her body.

“What did you say?” Tomaz asked Leah obliviously, thumping Raven heartily on the back and nearly knocking his ribcage straight through his body.

Leah’s cheeks bore bright pink spots and she looked thoroughly flustered.

“I said … never mind, it’s not important,” she finished, not looking the big man in the eye, and also pointedly not looking at Raven. Tomaz, while not incredibly intuitive, was able to realize the subject was better off dropped. He gave it a parting snort, full of surprisingly articulate exasperation, but said nothing more.

“What do you do Tomaz?” Raven asked in order to fill the silence.

“He sings,” Leah responded immediately. “He’s famous for his voice actually. The deepest basso profundo to ever live among the Kindred.”

“You
sing?
”

“No need to be incredulous,” Tomaz said, looking stung. “You could hurt a person’s feelings that way.”