Winterfinding (23 page)

“
I’ve worn dresses, gowns,
but not some half thingy. Looks like it’ll slip right off. Seems
rather lurid.” Fery pretended to be offended and it was enough to
get Kira to smile genuinely.

“
I’m happy for the change
of clothes. Honesty, I think we rather stink.” Kira scrunched up
her nose, and Fery blurted a laugh.

There was a tap on the door, it opened, and
Declan stood looking them both over. “Awake then. Ready ta go?”

“
Obviously.” Fery held out
her arms and stared at him as though he were an idiot. “Can I put
my trousers on? Can she put her top on?”

“
Sorry,” Declan replied as
he came into the room and sat on the foot of Fery’s bed. “Goshen’s
gone to get the horses they said they’d have for us.”

Kira had gotten use to Declan’s lack of
propriety. Out in the wild and on the road, she quickly realized
the modesty she was raised with was a useless affectation. Also, it
was clear that Declan wasn’t interested in her in that way. She
couldn’t tell if it was because he just wasn’t or if he wasn’t
because of some agreement with Goshen. Or with Fery. It was
different than she was use to but felt more comfortable, more
genuine. Declan was rather interested in Fery, that much had been
clear from the moment they met. Yet, again, it didn’t feel like
something to remark on, didn’t feel immodest. It felt honest,
casual.

“
Do you think that kyrio
can be trusted?” Kira asked.

“
Well,” Declan thought a
moment, “he paid me in full. He got us out of that Spires camp. He
set us up here. And now we’re going to meet back up with Wynne. So
I think, if he can’t be trusted, he’s gone through a lot of
effort.”

“
That’s a fair
assessment.” Kira said.

“
Still,” he continued,
“Gosh is a wreck. The combination of refusing to sleep and all
that’s gone on…” He shook his head. “Jittery.”

“
He angry.” Fery said
plainly, as she finished tying the lacing on the front of her
trousers. “He angry at Sinclar, he’s angry at that kyrio for
abandoning us, he’s angry about the fight at the Cruor, he’s still
angry and hurt about what happened in Bandra and before
that.”

“
Aye,” Declan agreed,
“He’s feeling he needs to do something. I’m worried he may…act out,
make a bad decision, something rash.”

“
Those are fair concerns.”
Kira said quietly.

“
M’lady, perhaps you could
expand on your thoughts.” Declan prodded.

“
I don’t doubt Goshen will
be able to keep command of himself.” Kira said plainly. “Whatever
happens, no matter what anyone says, he’s a paladin and they keep
control of their thoughts and feelings.”

“
He’s not some slave
that’s had his emotions beaten out of him.” Fery
replied.

“
No,” Kira picked up her
pack and looked around the room to see if there was anything she
had forgotten, “he most certainly is not. But he is a warrior, a
guardian, and he will protect us—all he has left—to the best of his
ability. What you’re seeing,” she pointed at Declan as she made for
the door, “is a man who is dealing with all of his faculties being
poured into a single task.”

“
Which is?”

“
Keeping us
alive.”

“
I loathe festivals.”
Cochrane sneered.

“
What’s wrong with a
festival?” Jena prodded. They had been on the road early nonstop
since leaving Arderra. Cochrane had insisted that they only stop
for brief naps and to quick meals. He never wanted to be unmoving
for long convinced that he was being shadowed by something or
someone malignant. Jena didn’t fight him. In fact, she had reached
the point where she just agreed to everything rather than expend
the energy otherwise.

They had heard rumors at first but then firm
evidence of the Spires army camped to the east. Fortunately, they
were coming into Sulecin from the south and it didn’t look like it
would be too much of a hassle to get into the city. That is, until
they realized that the Winterfinding festival had begun. For miles
outside the city, groups of pilgrims and county folk had erected
tents under which they were building processionals. These were long
carts pushed or pulled by horse or ox, platforms with ridiculously
tall icons that would be carried on the shoulders of a dozen men or
more, and bizarre looking effigies that would be paraded through
the streets like gigantic marionettes. This last one Jena found
particularly unnerving.

Growing up on the Falkstone River, she was
familiar with the festival. From Far Port to Havan, they celebrated
Winterfinding the same way—a daily processional through the streets
of the town city culminating in one huge procession a week after
the extreme of winter. It was a bit much, Jena thought, but given
just how bleak true winter could be, she couldn’t begrudge folk.
Jena had been mucking along the Novostos Sea for so long she found
herself missing true winter. The cold, the ice in the air leading
to the visible heat of breath, how everything got tight, the world
got quieter, and the snow. She hated ice but she loved the snow.
Thick, loving snow inviting you to wrap yourself in it. At least,
that’s how she felt as a child.

There had been plenty of times she had seen
people freeze to death or be crushed by the weight of snow. Winter
rain, the Novosar liked to call it. After experiencing the thick
heat of the southern seas, she had come to covet winter. Winter
meant you had to get warm. She could always get warm, but she could
never cool down enough. She remembered so many nights laying in her
hammock cocooned with netting so the pernicious insects wouldn’t
feast on her, drenched in sweat, and unable to fall asleep. The air
felt nearly too thick to breath, it felt like it was pushing down
on her skin trying to get into her body. She hated it. The farther
north she went, the more comfortable she became.

Their horses were strong but tired and as
Cochrane was jerking his head every which way trying to keep an eye
on all the common folk around him, Jena decided they needed to stop
for the day. “Oi, let’s make camp.” Cochrane shot her scowl.
“There’s no way were going to make any progress through this throng
and you needn’t worry about anyone sneaking up on you. We need to
rest. Be ready for the next day. Right.”

Cochrane slowly nodded, “Yeah, alright.
Right. Right.” He led his horse off the side of the road to a patch
of open lawn, and Jena followed. They made camp and watched as folk
seeming to keep coming into the city.

Jena was baffled, “They know what’s going
on, they know there’s an army just a few miles beyond. An army
that’s threatening this city. And yet they still come.”

“
That’s why festivals are
the worst.” Cochrane had set up a pot to boil and was cutting
potatoes and tossing them in. “These fools are so starved for some
kind of escape for their daily routine.”

“
I don’t think it’s that.”
Jena mumbled as she took a bite of an apple.

“
No? These are common
folk. There are some traders in there but most are laborers,
peasants. Not even villeins, they’re already in the city. These
people are dumb muscle, the wide base that everything is built
upon, that everyone looks down upon.”

Jena pointed at Cochrane and smiled, “You’re
a bit bitter for a holy man.”

“
I’m not a holy man.
I’m…something else.”

“
I know a paladin. At
least, he used to be a paladin.”

“
You never stop being a
paladin.” Cochrane said abruptly.

“
You have.” Jena
chided.

“
No, I was never a
paladin. Justiciars are not paladins, I told you. Paladins
can’t…won’t do what we do.”

“
Spying, assassinating,
hunting, murdering.”

Cochrane tossed the last potato in the pot
and closed the lid. He sat down and glared at Jena. “You’re free
ranger, a blade for hire; you’re going to tell me you’ve never done
those things?”

Jena shrugged and tossed her apple towards
the horses. “I don’t pretend to be doing it for anyone other than
myself. I don’t do it for some imaginary force or some long dead
ancestor or in the name of some creed written down before anyone
knew the things we know now. I choose what I do and for who. The
moment you lot decide to do things for yourself you’re branded
heatheners.”

Cochrane chuckled, “Well, that is what a
heathener is, someone who only thinks of themselves and not the
Light.”

“
Seems to me that means
being a heathener is our natural state.”

“
You aren’t wrong,”
Cochrane looked off toward the road watching the people coming into
the city as the day’s light faded, “but you’re not right
either.”

“
That what make you a
justiciar? That little bit if insight.” Jena grinned.

“
Why are you goading
me?”

“
Honestly, I’m bored and
it’s fun. I’ve not been able to talk with a normal person in ages.
I like to pretend I’m doing it now. With you.”

“
You’re a bit too smart
for a free ranger.” Cochrane’s eyes narrowed. “And a bit too…not
kind but…”

“
Let’s not get too
friendly.” Jena replied as she stood and stretched. “I’m worldly.
You live long enough in the wild, between cities, and without
allegiance, you tend to give the false impression of being
wise.”

Cochrane was satisfied with that answer. He
pointed passed her to the pack that had their bowls in it. Jena
picked it up and tossed it to him. “We’re here now. You don’t have
to stay with me; I can find my own way easily enough. In fact,
probably better than you could find yours.”

“
I figure your friends
might know where I could find my friends.”

“
And why is
that?”

“
Because whoever sent you
to Lappala didn’t do it for the faith or for the nation, they did
it for themselves.”

“
That’s partially
true.”

“
Maybe now is the time we
tell each other the while truth.”

“
What if our truths
conflict?” He asked dipping a bowl into the pot to fill it with
soup and then handing it to her.

Jena took the bowl and sat. She fished a
stale heel of bread from her own pack. “Well, then we either
resolve it or we let it lie.”

“
That simple?”

“
Do we need to make it
more complicated?”

He shook his head and sat opposite her with
his own bowl of soup. “I’ve discovered that things tend to
complicate themselves quite nicely.”

“
I don’t know how nice it
is but, sure.”

“
It’s getting dark.”
Cochrane ate slowly. “Even though we’re close to the city, it’s
still not safe.”

“
Let’s start there then,
why do you think they’re after you?”

There was a long silence as the two ate the
soup. Jena finished her bowl and had another, and then Cochrane did
the same. Torch light began popping up around them as it became
clear that there were several camps around theirs. Jena threw the
last logs on the fire and waited for the flames to get well
underway.

“
You need to either get
more wood or tell me your story.”

“
Fine.” Cochrane stood and
fetched his cloak off his horse as well as hers. He returned to the
fire throwing hers on her lap. He sat and draped himself in the
warm fur.

“
The smartest man I ever
met, the wisest person I think I will ever meet, and the most
calculating politician in the world is an utterly unknown
theosopher named Pallas Athschul.”

Sinclar struck Ebon again, this time sending
him spiraling backwards to the floor. Ebon lay in a whimpering heap
as the vicegerent stood on the altar bellowing at Pallas, Vander,
and Stilbon.

“
Each of you had but one
task!” Sinclar was red faced, his eyes bugling and angry veins
protruding from his neck and forehead.

“
You!” He jabbed a finger
at Vander, “All you needed to do was goad the kyrios. We only
wanted a petition to the patriarch. Instead, instead!” He strode
down to where Ebon was on all fours just about to get up. “You and
this fat fuck!” He kicked Ebon in the ribs sending him flat to the
floor again. “Decide to embolden their hawks and now I have an
army. A fucking ARMY! At my doorstep.”

“
Vicegerent, please…”
Vander took a cowering step toward Sinclar.

A swift backhand struck Vander on the side
of his face with enough force to send him crashing into the rail
before the chapel alter. “There is no please. You weren’t chosen
for your initiative. You were chosen because of your placement,
your contacts, your associations, and nothing more. You OBEY! And
even that you fail miserably at.”

Stilbon let the corner of his mouth curl
slightly pleased. He detested the friar and the father and was glad
to see then hurt. He didn’t realize that Sinclar had seen it.
Before he knew what was happening, Sinclar grabbed his cassock
lifting him nearly a foot off the ground.

“
And you,” he hissed, “you
smug shit. That army has justiciars coming to its aid. Bandrans you
were supposed to have discretely brought to my side. Explain.” He
growled.

“
They are…” Stilbon held
onto Sinclar’s wrists desperately trying to break the man’s grip.
Yet the vicegerent’s hold felt like iron. “…they are with you…they
are simply hedging…”