The Storm's Own Son (Book 1) (3 page)

Injraya
gave Pallas a thankful nod, looking slightly embarrassed.

Talaos watched the exchange with a catlike smile. With
Pallas, he thought, one could never be sure if putting her on the spot like that would make Injraya intrigued by the challenge, or be taken as an insult and the beginning of the end.

The newcomers sat down as the rest of the little group introduced
themselves.

Katara looked at
Injraya with great curiosity, "Where are you from?" she asked.

"I am from Kalanthar, in the Southlands. My father is now trade consul to Carai."

At that, there were glances from Sorya and Arax, since her statement established her as from a very respectable background. Talaos wondered if she knew she was among gangsters.

"
And you?" asked Injraya, eyeing Katara's blonde hair, and her height.

"Vorhame, in the far north," replied Katara.

"Northmen! Do they not battle terrible man-eating ice drakes there?" asked Injraya.

"Not anymore," said Katara
, with a faint grim smile, "the drakes are all dead."

As the others continued their conversation,
Pallas turned to Talaos.

"Notice anything new?"

"Nice swords," answered Talaos.

"Not like yours, but still I paid a good price to old Arion for them."

Then Pallas turned to Injraya again, "Talaos here is one of the deadliest swordsmen in Carai, and he spent a small fortune to have swords custom made by the master smith Dormio in Ivarna... That's our capital, the capital of the Republic, and..."

And now
Talaos thought he could see the end peaking over the horizon. Still, the truth must be told. He interrupted in a casual voice, "In all fairness, most of that fortune originally belonged to men working for Cratus, Borras, or Perio."

Pallas
decided to elaborate, "Those are gang bosses. We're fighting them! Well, not Borras or Perio anymore, because now they're dead, but..."

Talaos mused that
Pallas did better when he wasn't trying so hard to impress.

Sprawled at ease,
he noticed Injraya was already casting furtive around the room with her big eyes. He smiled benignly and mused about his dueling swords. He certainly had spent a lot of other people's money on them, to the point of getting some notoriety for it. Ivarna had been famous for centuries for the quality of its blades, all the way back to the days of the Empire, and Dormio was probably the greatest living master sword smith.

With broad, double-edged engraved blades of high steel,
solid oval cross guards and silver pommels carved engraved with designs of storm clouds and lightning, they suited him. But, they suited their deadly work even better.

His li
fe was already likely to be short. Why trust it to something cheap?

Then, his musings were interrupted.

"Daxar arranged it all, right?" said Pallas.

"Yes
," replied Talaos, with an absent smile.

That reminded Talaos that Daxar
should be back in town soon, from his trip to Hunyos, east of the mountains. It would be good to see him again. The weapons broker could smell profit a long way off, and with war brewing in the east, there ought to be plenty of it. When Daxar's ship returned, he planned to catch up with him at a sprawling, seedy place they'd favored for years; a tavern sarcastically named the Cheated Deal,

His musing was interrupted again, though this time more pleasantly, as Sorya suddenly kissed his neck.
Pallas and Arax both stopped their conversations in surprise.

"Feeling a little forward, eh Sorya?" teased
Arax.

"Not really
. We've been together in secret for a while now," replied Sorya with sudden intensity.

Talaos
reflected in mild surprise at the step she'd taken. He knew he had as much a reputation as a womanizer as Sorya had for aloofness. He took her hand.

She put her pert lips to his ear, "Sorry, I just couldn't take hiding anymore."
With that, she undid the cord that tied her dark hair, let it flow past her shoulders, and leaned her head to Talaos's chest.

As time went on, a few other friends joined them.
Conversation flowed on for a long while, fading from tough talk to a glow of warmth and peace that belied their violent trade. At last, Talaos thought it might be time to go. He squeezed Sorya's hand, then Katara's. He raised a hand to get the others' attention, and spoke.

"Thanks for coming
, for being here. Every moment with friends counts, while we have them. We won this round, but let's keep our eyes open," he said with a smile.

Then Pallas raised a cup. After a moment, so did the others.

"To good friends, the ones here, and the ones gone," said Pallas, simply.

All at the table took drinks of their wine.

~

The morning was bright and fresh. Light pe
eked in through the slatted blinds of the inn's windows. It lit a warm, wood-paneled room and a large, comfortable bed with three people under clean linen sheets.

Talaos
sat propped against pillows and stretched his arms. The sheets, luxurious things in this expensive inn, felt good against his skin. On his left, Sorya began to sleepily stir. She was under the sheet, nude and sprawled on her stomach. He smiled, enjoying the sight of the soft fabric clinging to her slender body.

Katara
, propped on her shoulder to his right, leaned in to give him a kiss, and ran her hand along the muscles of his chest. She peered into his eyes, then gazed at him, and at Sorya for a while in smiling silence. At last, she climbed softly out of bed and searched for her dress from the night before. The smooth curves of her body were dappled in sunlight as she dressed.

"I
am feeling hungry," the Northwoman said in her smoky-sounding accent.

"
See if they'll fill a tray to take up for all of us. And fresh water," replied Talaos.

"
As you wish," said Katara, softly smiling as she slipped out the door.

Sorya
peered up, then turned to cling to Talaos as she nibbled his chest.

"That was fun
. I like Katara... I think I learned a few things," she said playfully.

"Yes."

"You make me feel wonderful... when I have you," she added.

Thinking about what might be coming,
he put a hand gently to her cheek.

"
But," she continued, and her eyes grew more serious, "I... I'm... not sure I want to keep sharing you. We've been together, what, five months?"

"Nearly six
."

"Yes
, but nearly all in secret, and there've been... how many other women?"

"
That secrecy kept you out of the war, and I don't keep count."

"That isn't the point. I want you, all of you."

"Or you could try something crazy, and take me as I am," Talaos replied with a smile.

"You and that damned cocky smirk!" she snarled, her eyes now flashing, but her hands running over his body
, "Don't you ever take anything seriously?"

"
Yes, danger."

She laughed a
sarcastic laugh, "Really? You could have fooled me! Last night..."

"Who said that was danger?
"

"
I... You're impossible! Tal, you might be the most fascinating, most frustrating man I've ever known..."

"And I've got friends in high, well mostly low, places," he replied
with mock grandeur.

Her lips curled
and her face flooded with emotions, "And is that all you want?"

Talaos
ignored her comment, but instead ran his hands along her cheek, neck, and firm little breasts. She gasped, then seemed to master herself, and kept talking.

"
No really, think about it. We've got a fair amount of gold put away... Well mostly you, but still, all the recent trouble has paid well."

"It has," he smiled, as he played with her nipple
and between her legs.

"
Maybe it's time to get out while we're ahead. Things might be going well for Palaeon, but I... unh... trust him about as much as a hungry snake, and... mmm... We should think about another part of the city, or somewhere else even... I ah, that's good...  Little town somewhere. You know, go respectable, settle down..."

"Settle down? We're gangsters..."
Talaos laughed, as he gave her a swat on her bottom, Then he covered her mouth in a kiss as he pushed her onto her back. With that, the desire for discussion seemed to go out of her. She smiled and sighed. He teased her body and put his lips to her neck, then gave her a nip.

She moaned, reached between his legs, and gripped him hard, stroking.

He curled his fingers inside her, and ran his teeth along her throat.

Mmm..." she smiled, and parted her legs as he
moved his body over hers.

He slid inside her, pushing deep. Then he took Sorya's left hand and gently, but firmly
placed it between her own legs. He felt her skin tingle as the thrill ran through her body. With her right hand, she roamed the muscles of his shoulder, back, and thrusting hips.

The door opened, and Katara walked in
, carrying a full tray precariously piled with refreshments.  She flushed, then rather expertly closed the door behind her with a foot while setting the tray down on a sturdy table next to the bed.

"Not without me," she said, pulling off her dress.

~

Talaos sat in bed as the women dozed. The tray of food sat empty next to half-finished
clay pitchers of wine and water. Outside it was afternoon, but he'd drawn the blinds, and it was cool and dark in the room. They had the place all day, and there was no hurry.

He considered what Sorya had said
, and what they were to each other. Leaving aside questions about the longer term future, her desire to have him to herself wasn't going to happen. He was sure of that. But, he'd never really examined the reasons.

Though it
had only been six months, she was the longest he'd ever stayed with a lover. As intensely as he felt, one by one, he always let them go. Sometimes for good reasons, and sometimes with little idea why. The sheer number of women he'd had was another point of notoriety among those who knew him. Regardless, it felt natural and right to him, like he was fulfilling some part of his purpose.

But what
purpose? Children? If so, then how was it, with so many women, and he healthy and normal enough, he had none? Not that he'd sought them. He'd simply accepted matters as they were, for him. Accepted until very recently.

Sorya was right about one thing.
He felt change in the air, or at least in his spirit.

It occurred to him that with things likely to be quieter for a little while, he might visit the Great Library. It had been too long.
It might have been Katara, or Pallas turning up with Injraya, the disturbing changes in Cratus's organization, or Sorya's talk of settling down somewhere far away, but regardless, he had the world on his mind. Where better to learn a few new things, while getting a little peace?

That though, would be another day.
In the meantime, there were more immediate things.

Katara
had certainly introduced a new element into their lives. She was so very natural in all she did, and her attention to Sorya had been something unexpected and beautiful. And like Sorya, there was a great deal about her that was intriguing. Whatever it was that the three of them had, and however long it lasted, it was a beautiful thing.

That didn't
mean Sorya accepted it as such. Eventually, if she wanted him, she would have to face him as he actually was, but she'd have to come to that in her own way.

And what would Katara want, when the time came?

As if in reply, Katara stirred and gazed up at him sleepily. Sorya still seemed to doze, but drew closer. At peace, for the moment.

He had no answers, nor much peace to offer, but at least they had this moment.

He pulled them both close, protectively in his arms.

2
. The Jewel of the Republic

The great library of Carai was not the sort of place one would expect to meet a gangster, and that was one of the things Talaos liked about it. Here, he was unlikely be jumped by enemies, and here he could think of the world beyond those enemies.

It was a huge place
, some two hundred years old, built in what was called the Imperial style. There were two long wings of three stories flanking a lofty, domed and colonnaded central structure of octagonal shape. The grandeur of it was itself a nice change from the gritty back streets and seedy taverns where he spent so much of his time.

H
e ascended the long flight of steps wrapped around three faces of the octagon and leading toward the vast main entrance. He considered that in a strange way this place was a second home. Admittedly, it was a home he visited rarely these days, but as much or more of one than the ever-changing cheap apartments where he slept.

He'd had only a bit of formal education as a boy, thanks to a well-meaning but harsh charitable order. Always a quick study, he'd learned a great deal more then, and later, than he generally let on
. On the other hand, he tended to meander his way randomly through subjects as his interests led him. He doubted he had the patience to be a proper scholar.

Still, for a little while when here, he
could think of a wider world. And he thought, the annual fee to be a Patronus of the library was both surprisingly low and came with useful privileges. He drew his cloak around him to cover his weapons. All free citizens of the Republic had the right to bear them, but he had no interest in scaring the milder-mannered visitors to the place, or attracting extra attention.

He greeted old Tertius, the door warden, and passed inside.
The ornate patterned tile of the floor was polished as always, and the gilt work of the lofty interior doom shone far overhead. Today he thought, he'd study maps and geography.

He took the stairs up to the
balconied gallery on the second floor, then the right-hand hallway to the east wing, where maps, atlases and travelogues would be found. He passed shelves of books and scrolls alternating with tables and benches for reading. The diagonal-latticed windows up here were large. They let in plenty of light on a bright day like this one.

The map section was at the end of the wing
. He found a large empty table, grabbed a map of the known world, a random selection of travelogues, and set up shop.

The map had been made in Carai, and naturally had the Republic at its center. The familiar shape was there, roughly rectangular land boundaries over a jagged southern coast facing the central sea. Ancient, mighty Carai was the easternmost large city, but a sprawling plains region of ranches and small
towns extended further east to the mountains. Far to the northwest of Carai was landlocked Ivarna, whose rich iron mines and skilled smiths had helped build a new Republic four centuries ago, on the anarchic remnants of the old Empire.

There was
still-anarchic Hunyos, east of the Republic across the mountains. War was brewing there. Shaped roughly like a triangle with the narrowest point to the south, it was bordered on the east by the Eastern Sea, and on the north by the heartland of the fallen kingdom of Dirion. Southernmost and closest of the many rival cities of Hunyos was Avrosa, which was supposed to be the last stop for his friend Daxar on his voyage selling weapons.

F
or a thousand years, what were now the Republic, Hunyos and eastern Dirion had been the core of the old Empire. In the six hundred years since its fall they had been variously rivals or trading partners, sharing a common language and culture.

For a long time,
Dirion had built a new empire of its own, conquering neighbors, putting Hunyos under tribute, expanding ever west. It had struggled with the Republic over the ranges of mineral-rich mountains and fertile vineyard valleys that formed their boundary. Then Dirion had pushed too far and in a colossal war against the Republic forty years earlier, lost everything.

Nomadic
horsemen from the far northeastern plains now ruled most of old Dirion, and Northmen from Schald its western reaches. Schald itself was the easternmost and southernmost of the Northman countries. Beyond it were Narhame, Katara's home of Vorhame, and distant Jotun on the frozen northern sea. The northern peoples tended to be tall and fair, and were known for both war and poetry.

South of those countries and west of the Republic were the Seven Realms
, a large region that had been under the Empire in its later centuries. During the collapse, seven heroes had won their freedom and become seven kings. They were known as places where small feuds were more common than big wars, at least in recent times. Beyond them were the Western Isles, a land of far-faring merchant sailors.

Across the central sea from the Republic were the Southlands, and they extended beyond the edge of the map. Talaos knew little about them
beyond some of the trading cities on the coast, but thought he might change that.

Then there were the Eastlands...

"Talaos?" said an elderly voice behind him, "It's been a long time. How are you, lad?"

T
alaos turned around and saw Caelius, the curator of the second floor east wing. The old man was dressed in the wreath-bordered white tunic of his station. Talaos thought he looked frailer than the last time he'd seen him, and his unkempt white hair even wispier.

"I'm well
. And how are you, Caelius?"

"A little worn from a fever
, I'm afraid, but otherwise well enough."

"I'm glad you're doing better," replied Talaos warmly.

"Thank you," said Caelius. Then he thought for a moment, smiled and teasingly added, "Though, I can't recall you having much direct experience with being ill."

"
I can't remember ever having been," replied Talaos.

The curator
quietly chuckled and shifted his attention to Talaos's studies, with a twinkling curiosity in his old eyes at the map and books on the table.

"
That is quite a collection you have there. If I may ask, what would you like to learn?"

"Everything,"
answered Talaos.

Caelius
shook his head, smiling, "That was the same answer you gave nearly fifteen years ago, when you first sneaked in here with rags on your back and a head full of questions."

"Some thing
s never change," replied Talaos, smiling.

"And some do," answered Caelius, glancing at Talaos's silver-fitted gear and expensive swords, "though whether for better or worse depends on what we choose to make of them."

"I've been thinking of change lately," mused Talaos.

"That's good, because it is in your nature, lad," replied Caelius, "
Now, if you want some recommendations from among all those travelogues, I can help."

"I'd be interested in learning more about the Eastlands," answered Talaos.

Caelius looked surprised. "Well, though it historically was home to a great many nations, at present the entire continent is ruled by the Living Prophet."

"That much I knew," answered Talaos. "
He's supposed to be a kind of powerful sorcerer who has everything in his lands governed by some elaborate, strict philosophy."

"
Correct. It is a complete philosophy of life, with no exceptions, and backed by his laws. He claims to have the answers to everything, but I can't say I found it interesting enough to study those purported answers in detail. What makes you curious about the Eastlands?"

Talaos considered. He'd been told he was found on the beach
by a pair of gleaners. One died soon after, but the other was old Etoclea, who'd made sure he got some help when he was very small, and passed around his story. By that means, he knew one important thing.

"I've been told
my mother was from the Eastlands," he said.

"
Ah, yes, I think you mentioned that once," the curator answered.

Talaos
continued, "But... blue eyes like mine are supposed to be rare there."

"Just about unknown, I'd say.
Blue eyes are rare enough here, let alone bright ones like yours. A lot more people have that color up in the Northman countries, of course."

Talaos thought about that for a moment, quietly.

Caelius scratched his chin, and added, "One thing... remind me how old you are?"

"Twenty five."

"That's what I thought. If your mother came from the Eastlands by ship, it would have been about the time the Prophet was beginning his conquest of the last countries there he didn't rule, mostly on the western coasts. It was a massive war, and there were refugees who fled west."

"
What do you know about those countries?" asked Talaos.

"
It won't be much help regarding her, but we can look through the travelogues and I'll point things out to you. In those days, Carai did quite a bit of trade with several places there. One is the kingdom of Dragesha, and another was, then, the league of the princes of Lagana, though there are no princes left now. The biggest trade port there is Ishuk, if you'll look here..."

~

The Cheated Deal was full of rowdy people. Fading sunlight shown through high latticed windows. Wide archways decorated with old, scratched paint in squared geometric designs divided a large main area from several smaller back rooms. Painted prominently in several places were pictures of merchant's scales with thumbs tipping them to one side.

There was smoke in the air and spilled wine on the
brown clay-tiled floor. Crowds formed and dissolved with the flow of conversation, friends coming and going, and deals being made.  In dark corners, alert figures carried on quiet discussions. Serving girls in flowing multicolored skirts deftly slipped through the crowds with hands full of earthenware wine mugs.

Near the heart of the place, a particularly large crowd of mostly younger men and women
gathered at a cluster of tables with an open space in the middle. Their freewheeling, boisterous conversation ebbed and flowed.  In the densest part of the crowd sat Talaos, sprawled on a couch like a great cat holding court, with Sorya at his right hand. She had her rich dark hair bound in a loose-ended bun that cascaded to her shoulders, and two long bangs framed her face. Unusual for her, she wore a black, revealing city-style dress over her lithe form, and her lips were painted red. She looked pensive.

In the open space at the middle of their group, Katara was demonstrating a variety of kicks, sweeps, and throws. Sometimes she would add a backswept elbow that left no doubt someone's face would have been ill-advised to be in the way, or brought a knee up to a height that made some of the youngest men uncomfortably guard their groins.

She was dressed in a costume very foreign to the geometric sleeveless tunics and checkered cloaks of the men, and the long, yet revealing dresses of the women around.  She had a plain knee-length woolen kilt on a wide leather belt at her waist, with brown leather panels in front and back, and an exceptionally sturdy, many-strapped leather harness over her ample breasts. She wore a leather band with bronze discs on her head. The rest of her skin was bare.

Sorya looked up at Talaos, whose eyes casually wandered the room.
Her eyes flashed and her pert lips parted as if to speak. Then it passed and was replaced by a wistful, sad expression. She clung herself like a rag doll to Talaos's side, and he put an arm lightly around her.  Katara was continuing her demonstration.

"And would you really fight in clothes like that?" asked a thin teenage boy with brown hair hanging in rings around his face, and eyes that never left Katara's body.

Talaos made a bemused smile, his eyes sparkling, as he watched them both.

The
Northwoman stopped, and faced the boy with seriousness.

"These are inside clothes, or for warm weather. In the cold, we add more. This type of fighting is for times when you do not expect a fight. Or when the other person does not, and you want to keep it that way until the time is right.
Most women in the north do not go to war unless we face a strong foe, and all are needed, or all is lost and the men are gone. I do though, and if I was going to battle, I would be wearing armor and carrying a sword."

"I'd imagine," yawned a short
girl with a round face and elaborately coifed chestnut hair, standing next to her noticeably distracted boyfriend, "it helps to be bigger... and heavier."

Katara glanced at Talaos, who gave her the slightest nod in reply. She then turned back to fix her gaze on the
chestnut-haired girl. Her eyes narrowed and her face took on the grim expression she'd worn facing Borras.

"It does," replied the
Northwoman, drawing herself up to her full height, taller than many of the men in the crowd, and crossing her arms over her leather-bound chest. Her forearms showed hints of muscle, as did her trim bare waist. Her gray eyes gleamed like frost. "But," she continued, her accented voice dropping low, "speed and surprise are more reliable friends to women than strength... I could show you."