The Storm's Own Son (Book 1) (4 page)

The girl's eyes grew wide, and she shrank back into her boyfriend's arms.

A few of the men in the crowd exchanged excited glances.

"You could show me," said an earnest young man of about twenty, with
the close-cropped brown hair and the respectable clothes of an aspiring tradesman or merchant.  As he stood, his shoulders and back were slightly bowed and his palms up, but his averted eyes kept darting to Katara's breasts. "I'd be honored to learn..."

"I'm done for today," replied Katara disdainfully, to the obvious disappointment of many of the men, and visible relief of
many of the women. With that, she stalked back to Talaos's left side, beads of sweat cooling on her skin.

As Katara sat and leaned close to him, Talaos overhead another young man whisper to someone nearby, "She carries herself like a queen..."

Talaos smiled inwardly, thinking of a secret known only to him and Katara. If she carried herself like a queen, it was because she was the daughter of a king.  Granted, one of many in a warlike land where, it was said, one king could almost look from his keep to the keep of his neighbor. And, she was a daughter who had reasons not to want to return home, but a king's daughter still.

A bit later, a group of newcomers arrived at their gathering.  They weren't sailors, but they had the tang of the sea still clinging to their clothes, and tousled hair fresh in from the wind.  One of them was a strong-built
, black-haired man in weathered tan clothes. His tunic, pants, and cloak were trimmed with bronze fittings, and his brown boots reinforced with bronze plates. He had a long, finely crafted sword strapped to his back. The man smiled, and raised a hand in greeting.

"Hail, Talaos! How goes the
easy life here in the jewel of the Republic?"

"You
've been missing the war, Daxar."

"War? You have no idea... I did hear there was some kind of trouble among the gangs."

"Palaeon's winning. He's lord in this part of town now."

"Can't say I like the sound of that. Mind if I sit down?"

Talaos gestured, and one of his friends grabbed a vacant chair and gave it to Daxar as the rest of the newcomers found places wherever they could.

Daxar waived to a barmaid, ordered a round of wine, then took a second look at Talaos, and the beauties at his side.

"Sorya? It's been long time. Tal, you and Sorya? Well now. I have missed a lot of news."

Sorya nodded and forced a smile.

"And this is Katara," added Talaos.

"Good afternoon to you," added Katara herself in a friendly but formal tone.

"You're from Schald?" Daxar mused, turning her way. "No... Vorhame."

"Yes, Vorhame," she replied, suddenly wary, as she turned back to Talaos.

Talaos smiled benignly. "Dax, how went things across the mountains?"

"All the warlords and city-states in Hunyos are sorting out who is on whose side."

"That much I'd heard."

"Yes, but the fighting is heating up. Good business for mercenaries, not for anyone else. Bandits are everywhere. Trade is falling apart, and unless you're like me... selling weapons, and willing to use them, it isn't worth the trip."

"I wasn't planning on it. Since you're alive and in good spirits, I'd guess you have gold, and maybe some work. Palaeon is getting clingy."

Daxar chuckled. "Not wanting to be a gear in someone else's machine? Yes, once I get settled in I might have some work, though it may be in new markets," he replied, then turned more serious
. "Things are changing, Tal, and for the worse."

"How so?" Talaos replied with mixed curiosity and skepticism.

"Over there, it isn't just the war.  There are also people preaching the faith of the Living Prophet."

"The Prophet?
When last I checked, he was off past the Eastern Sea."

"Not anymore. In terms of influence, at least. For the first time I've heard of, there are more than a handful of his believers on this side of the water."

"All right, that can't be good. From what little I've heard, life under the Prophet is the opposite of everything I want out of living."

"And then some! You know, Tal, they say he is hundreds of years old."

Talaos laughed. "And I say, we need some more wine."

~

Talaos rode a brown horse at a trot down the track at the great stadium.  A few others were doing the same. The rows of seats, tier upon tier, were mostly empty. On a racing day, he knew there might be sixty thousand people in those seats. Today, however, he could pay a few coppers to practice riding around the track on one of the retired racing or chariot horses.

The
horses were celebrities of a sort in Carai, almost as famous as the men who raced, but the officials who ran the stadium still made them earn their keep. Helping amateurs learn to ride, standing around eating their fill, and occasionally breeding to produce the next generation of their line was certainly not the worst fate for old horses. But Talaos imagined it could get repetitive and dull.

He knew he
at least wasn't cut out for the human equivalent of a peaceful, futureless life like that. Of course, he thought, his career of street violence meant he was unlikely to have a long peaceful life, or a long life in any form.

Assuming that he did nothing to change things.

While it wouldn't be what Sorya had in mind, he thought it might in fact be time for a change. Ideally including Sorya. For all that he wouldn't be yoked to her plans, he cared for her. Her life, growing up and making her way in the bad parts of the city, hadn't been much easier than his own. Reflecting on it, he could hardly blame her for wanting some peace. Though he was not the path toward it.

I
n the few weeks he'd known her, he'd come to care for Katara too. In truth, he cared a great deal for each of them. With a smile, he tried to imagine a future with the both of them. However the law of the Republic was clear a man could have only one wife. In any case, even one seemed unlikely.

Whatever he was,
or made of his life, he wasn't made to be peaceful and yoked.

With that, he wondered if the
old horse felt peaceful and yoked. Did it miss racing, a full gallop with the wind in its face and the thunder of hooves on the track as it ran with its fellows? He decided to find out. He gave a squeeze with his knees, and the horse perked up its ears and sped up.

He kept at it, avoiding use of the spurs and instead just encouraging the horse to go faster
in stages. It did so, and seemed to regain a little fire in its spirit. It shook its head and tail. Talaos laughed, gave another squeeze and slapped a hand to the horse's shoulder. It snorted, neighed fiercely, and took off like a shot. He shouted to the sky and laughed as they went. People looked at him like he was a madman, and he gave them merry waves in reply.

Twice
they went thundering around the immense track, until he saw Daxar walking through one of the ground-level entrances, watching him and chuckling.

He reined the horse
, gave it a pat, and then a couple of carrots he'd brought with him. He looked down at Daxar, who was smiling up at him with a look that said sarcasm was coming.

"Planning to make a great impression when you sign up for the cavalry?" asked Daxar.

"Or when I patrol my vast estates," replied Talaos.

"
You could form Carai's first mounted street gang," suggested Daxar.

"Only if your offices are the stables,"
answered Talaos. "So, what's on your mind?"

"
Rumors are flying that Cratus is going to make a move soon."

"
And people assume I'll be helping Palaeon," replied Talaos.

"Of course. It was a good career move,
switching to his side," continued Daxar. "Though I can't remember you ever explaining, back when you quit working for Cratus."

"
I didn't like some of the things he was up to," answered Talaos, a darker and more serious edge creeping into his voice.

"You are a gangster, you know, Tal."

"I have my limits."

"Well, if you really want to sit this one out, I might have some work, but it will be out of town," said Daxar.

"Now that sounds even more promising," answered Talaos, "Let's talk tomorrow."

"See you at the usua
l? Lunch, then we can walk back to my offices if you're interested."

Talaos nodded.
Daxar smiled. They shook hands, and the arms dealer left.

T
alaos leapt off the horse and took it to one of the waiting grooms. As he did so, he smiled at the evening ahead, an evening with Sorya and Katara, and a few strings he had pulled.

~

"What is the purpose of this event?" asked Katara, not quite comprehending.

Down below them was the great plaza of the city
, lit by the moon and a variety of colorful lamps. In the very center was a carven obelisk of ancient, weathered stone. Around it was a cleared circle, and around that, a vast crowd. They were watching from the balcony of a small, but very expensive apartment used by some supposedly respectable associate of Palaeon's for meetings, meetings with young women that the man wanted to keep secret from his wife.

Regardless of the lack of honor
, or courage, it showed, the place itself was very nice, thought Talaos. For a small surety, as promise he wouldn't wreck it, here he was overnight with his own two favorite young women. They were here with some food, and rather more wine, to watch an unusually spectacular celebration of a very ancient annual holiday.

Sorya answered
Katara's question. "Today is supposed to be the anniversary of a day, something like four thousand years ago, when nine ancient heroes of this city saved it from a really powerful enemy hero. That obelisk down there commemorates it."

"Some say the enemy was a god," added Talaos.

"A god?" said Sorya, turning her head to look at Talaos, "What's a god?"

"There are very old legends that talk about them.
Something like a hero, but greater, with far more magic. They shaped the world around them," answered Talaos.

"So like I said, a really powerful hero," she replied with her small mouth in a smirk.

"No, not the same," he added with a certain finality, as he stepped back into the room behind to grab a carafe of wine. He looked back at the women on the balcony.

Sorya seemed to give up the fight, and
looked over her shoulder at him with the softer expression Talaos knew meant she felt out of her element debating him on such things. She'd painted her lips again, and put a lot of kohl around her big, flashing eyes. He liked the effect.

She'd
arrived in her typical street clothes, but had taken off the outer dress in the warm evening air. She was leaning against the rail of the balcony in her tight-fitting pants, boots, and undershirt, with her midriff bare and her hair up again in the loose bun with the trailing bangs framing her face. Her pert little bottom facing him like that gave him thoughts for later.

She noticed where his eyes were
, and flashed him her wicked smile.

Katara was standing, half turned, with her
slit city dress cinched tight at the waist. She had her bare left leg and sandaled foot propped on the lower rail of the balcony. The loose neckline of her dress was even lower than usual, and her breasts were all but spilling out. She flushed happily at his attention, but seemed to continue her earlier thoughts.

"If gods were shapers of the world,
" Katara said, "I think we have stories like that too, though few believe they still walk the earth today. Do you know more?"

"Not much more. Only that if they did, they haven't for thousands of years
," he answered.

Katara
nodded thoughtfully, then looked out over the balcony as Talaos returned with the wine. He took up a spot between the women, with Sorya on his left and Katara on his right. He set his cup on the balcony rail.

"What is that man doing?"
Katara said, pointing to the center of the cleared circle.

Talaos took a look
. "That's Veratus, a magus. Probably the most famous and powerful in this part of the Republic."

Down below, Veratus was preparing a circle of silver around
the obelisk, in turn surrounded by little twinkling lanterns of different colors. He was an old man, clean shaven, with close-cropped white hair. He had a dark blue cloak worn clasped far over on one shoulder in a way not in common use for centuries, and carried a wand of white wood that gleamed with what looked like copper.

"What is a magus?" asked Katara.

"Someone who learns to work magic through study in books and scrolls," answered Talaos, turning to look at her. "They say it is dangerous, and takes many years to master."