The Wayfarer King (21 page)

“What?” he asked.

“You’re too impatient for your own good.”

“You’re too stubborn for yours. Bread must be done by now. Let’s go eat.”

After they finished their meal, they went outside to the street. He practiced finding Daia among other people first with his eyes open, then with them closed, down the street, and in a crowd of people in the market. The farther away she got, the more he had to concentrate. Then he remembered the new ring on his finger.

Like in Ravenkind’s old ring, the gem in his ring had a haze as fine as spider silk that connected to Daia’s. He cheated a time or two by following that thread right to her. When he realized how easy it was to find her that way, he stopped trying to do it the hard way.

Over the last couple of weeks, he’d noticed that the gems in his sword acted like magnifying glasses for his magic, but he’d never consciously tried to use them that way. He took the scabbard off his back and held the sword in front of him. When he imagined looking at the ring’s haze through the King’s Blood-stone, it led him to Daia’s haze as before, but there he saw more — the hazes of people through buildings, on the street around her, hazes he didn’t even know were there. The exercise was even easier when he relaxed in the inn’s dining hall with an ale. It wasn’t long before he felt confident that he could find her anywhere in the city. To prove it, he instructed her to ride across town.

She held her hand out. “Give me your ring. No more cheating, you rook.”

He gave her a sour look as he pulled it from his finger and dropped it into her palm. “Spoilsport.”

He went to their room at the inn and napped for about a half-hour to give her time to cross the city. When he awoke, he concentrated on finding her, but he had no idea which direction she’d gone. He shut his eyes and focused on the spot between his eyebrows, using the imaginary eye there to see the unique orange arm in Daia’s haze. Even focusing on the gems in his sword, wherever he looked, all he saw were the yellow-white bubbles of the strangers going about their business in the city. It was as difficult as combing the streets on foot looking for someone. Then he realized that his mystical third eyeball wasn’t actually attached to his head. He found he could use it to move, though his physical body was reclined on the bed. In fact, the eye wasn’t limited by the speed of his legs. As quickly as he could think the thought, it was halfway across the city. He lifted it, like a bird flying up to sit on the highest rooftop. There he spotted her haze, not far from the Gwanry Museum of History. Grasping her orange tendril was as easy as though she stood beside him.

We did it!
he thought. He was ready to try finding the vortex.

He waited for her outside and waved when he saw her approach. “It’s working,” she said. “Our diligence in practicing is paying off.”

He took her horse by the bridle and stroked the mare’s neck absently. “Help me find the vortex.” He opened his palm, and she gave him his ring back.

“Wait. It’s too soon for that.”

“Not to go through it, just to find it. I’m already getting good at finding you, so why not try the vortex?”

“The book doesn’t show a vortex in Ambryce. The nearest one is between here and the Lucky Inn. Now that our business here is settled, let’s head back to Tern so we can update Edan on what we’ve learned. We can stop and look for the vortex on the way if you want to.”

After packing their belongings, they saddled up and started north toward the Lucky Inn. Daia read from the book while they rode. They’d been riding for roughly four hours when Daia noted that one of the vortex locations was not far away. The book contained a crude map, which she expressed little faith in. “We could spend a week stomping around in the woods looking for the right place and never find it.”

“Does it say how King Arek found it?” Gavin asked. “If it’s not on the road, how did he know to go stomping around in the woods after it? There’s got to be some kind o’sign or something.”

“That’s a good point. He could locate the vortexes in other realms too.” She flipped a few pages. “Let me see what I can find.”

There was a stream not far away. Gavin suggested they pause to water the horses and stretch their legs.

After drinking his fill and refilling his water skin, he sat on a rock and leaned against a tree. He couldn’t help thinking about King Arek and how he’d found the vortexes. He had to have just ridden around, searching for them randomly during his travels. Could it be there were more than the ones he noted? “Give me a hand, will you? I want to see if I can find a vortex.”

Behind his closed lids, colored dots whirled endlessly. After taking hold of Daia’s orange rope, he saw the plain white hazes of the horses and various small forest critters, as well as what looked like snow falling from the sky. If only he knew what a vortex looked like. Maybe he needed a look at that painting the curator had mentioned. Until then, he wasn’t going to find any—

There!

He tried to focus on what looked like a miniature tornado of purple, but it dissipated into the swirling snow.

“Grasp harder,” Daia whispered. “I can take it.”

He envisioned grasping her orange rope harder, and in that moment he glimpsed something odd and unexpected. His haze reached an arm out toward her orange tendril and encircled it, as if he were wrapping a rope around his forearm to pull someone out of a mud pit.

“Whoa,” Daia said.

He started to release her, fearing he’d hurt her somehow.

“No, don’t let go. I need the practice like you do. Use it.”

And he did. The sensation was lofty, as if he’d arisen like a giant after a long slumber, stretching muscles that had long lain still. It felt intoxicating and scary at the same time. Gavin worried that Daia could be used as a weapon by anyone with the ability to take hold of her this way. Could Ravenkind? Could Ritol?

There it was again. The swirling snow spun faster, forming a spinning tornado, only this time it was blue. “I see it,” he whispered, afraid that the act of speaking would make it go away again. It was about five feet away and now purple. He got up and approached it slowly, worried it would move away like a mirage, but it stayed where it was.

“That’s good. Look but don’t go through.”

“I won’t.” He only wanted to examine it, try to understand it better. “It’s about my height,” he said. “Looks like a whirlpool but made of air. At first it was blue, then purple. Now it’s red. Looks like it’s cycling through the colors in the rainbow.” He brushed it with his haze, and it shimmered and wobbled and righted itself. “It’s so beautiful.” Maybe he could look through. Some colors enticed him more than others. The red one he wanted no part of, and orange was slightly less offensive. Blue felt comfortable, like a favorite pair of trousers. The white one reminded him of paintings depicting heaven. He leaned toward the vortex, now yellow.

“Gavin?” Daia said. Her orange rope snapped back, yanking him away. The vortex disappeared.

“What the—” A dizzy spell overtook him, and he spread his arms out to steady himself. He felt like two halves of himself being combined. “Why’d you do that?”

“I didn’t do anything. The connection broke. What were you doing?”

“I wanted to have a look.”

“Damn it, Gavin. You promised not to go through.”

The dizziness faded. “I wasn’t going through, just peeking inside. Let’s do it again. Hold on tight this time.”

He found the vortex more easily now. This time, when he put his arm into the swirling green cloud, a sucking sensation drew him toward the murky center. He leaned backward, trying to stay out. “What is that?”

“Tell me what you see,” she said.

“Clouds. They’re thick, but I can see a dark shape behind them. There’s wind, pulling me in. It’s loud too. Can you hear me?”

“Stop. I’m losing the connection.”

“I can’t quite see through the—”

Then he was falling.

Chapter 28

Feanna wrapped her hands with a thick rag, opened the stove, pulled out the hot pan then set it on the wooden table.

Tansa, kneeling on a chair, leaned over the casserole and sniffed. “Mmm, my favorite. Beans and eggs.”

Feanna heaped a serving into each bowl. “Where’s Jilly?”

“Jilly!” Iriel hollered.

Beside her, Feanna cringed. “Young ladies don’t yell. Run find her, love.”

Iriel rose from the table and went into the great room. “Miss Feanna. I found her. She’s with a man.”

Alarm ran up Feanna’s spine like a flag up a pole. She rushed outside and found Jilly on the front stoop. The warrant knight Adro squatted before her, talking quietly.

“Oh, good day, Adro. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were here.”

He stood and bowed slightly. “M’lady. I brought clothes for Jilly. Found some of her mama’s and papa’s things too, in case you could use them. No sense letting them lie on the ground to rot.”

Feanna smiled gratefully. “That was very thoughtful of you. We were just sitting to dinner. Would you care to join us?”

His face brightened. “I’d love to, if you have enough.”

She’d warmed up the casserole left over from the morning meal and felt embarrassed serving it to a guest, but it was all she had available on short notice. “We’ll make do. Please come in.”

He followed her to the kitchen. The children quieted their bickering instantly and gaped at him. She sensed their questions, thankfully left unspoken. Iriel, in particular, was enthralled. With eyes round and eager, she touched the hilt of his sword. Jilly wordlessly held up her arms for him to pick her up, and he did. She hugged his neck tightly while he patted her back.

“Looks like she’s adjusting well,” Adro said.

Jilly pulled back, nodding. She didn’t talk much yet, but she was responsive. He set her on a chair.

“She’s doing very well, though the nightmares still plague her and probably will for a time.” Feanna pulled a stool up to the table beside Jilly. “Here you are.” She handed him her bowl and spoon and invited him to help himself while she pulled a second bowl and spoon from the cupboard for herself.

“Have you ever killed anyone with this sword?” Iriel asked.

Feanna glowered at her. “Iriel, please. Not at the table.”

“Tell us some stories,” Iriel begged.

Adro pressed his lips together. “I don’t think I have any good ones to tell.”

“You do so. Tell us about the time you saved Jilly.”

Jilly’s eyes widened, and her chin began to quiver.

“No, that’s not a story we care to hear,” Feanna said.

Through the meal, Adro was gracious enough to tell a few stories of his adventures, though Feanna suspected he left out a lot that wasn’t appropriate for children. She appreciated that, and twice he winked at her. He was a nice fellow and had a charming way about him, but after meeting Gavin Kinshield, Feanna had lost any interest she might have had in Adro. She’d met the man she wanted. In a short time, she’d developed a deeper bond with Gavin than she’d ever had with her late husband. He might not have Adro’s charm or dimples, but he was strong and masculine and determined with a pleasant humor and eyes so deep she could get lost in them.

Her eyes went to Adro’s arms. Again she wondered why a battler would wear long sleeves in weather this warm. It occurred to her that he might have something to hide, perhaps a birthmark or scar that embarrassed him. Criminals often received brands on their forearms as a warning to honest folk to be wary, but that couldn’t be it. He had a conscience. She’d felt his shame and sorrow over the death of Jilly’s parents. Besides, Adro had shown her his warrant tag.

Feanna’s hand went automatically to Gavin’s tag hanging around her neck. A cold shudder raced across her body. Something was wrong. She closed her eyes and felt with her skill,
shifting
as she tried to sense Gavin’s feelings. With a gasp, she realized there were none. The tag was only a lifeless block of wood. “Oh no,” she whispered. She looked around at the faces turned to her in puzzlement.

“What’s wrong, Miss Feanna?” Iriel asked.

Plastering a smile onto her face, she dropped the tag under the neckline of her dress, where it lay out of sight between her clothing and corset. “It’s nothing. I think I’ve lost...” The sentence began to shake a tear loose. She blinked it back and cleared her throat. “...track of time. Would anyone like some bread? We still have a half loaf left from this morning.”