Post 18

“Sir? Sir, you must wake up.”

He groaned, putting a hand to his head as he tried to open his eye. Bright light attacked the sensitive orb, and he squeezed it shut again, another groan ripping from his throat. He felt like he had felt the one time he’d allowed himself to get completely wasted drunk, only it was the next morning already, and he hadn’t gotten the chance to enjoy the fun part.

“Sir, you must wake up. Sir, assembly is in less than a candlemark. You must wake up.”

With a gulp, he rolled over the edge of the cot and retched horribly. Fortunately, he hadn’t eaten the night before, and only a little acid came up. He continued to retch, gut clenching, and then he collapsed back on the cot, sweat dampening his clothing. Finally, he opened his eye and met the worried gazes of a pair of tremulous maidservants.

Seeing his eye open, they both began to stammer. “Please, sir, please you must get up…”

He forced himself stumbling to his feet, each girl- by the seven hells surely they weren’t more than ten and four summers?- took one of his hands and tugged him from the cell before he could even get a good look around. His head was splitting too much to pay attention to his surroundings and it was all he could do to stay on his feet when his knees simply wanted to buckle. It would be so easy to just collapse right here, in the dim hallway, and lay his head down… but those shivery gazes kept glancing back at him, and so he followed along as they dragged him into yet another room, this one appointed quite nicely. He didn’t even object when they tugged off his jacket and shirt, but once their hands went to the ties on his hose he woke right up and yelped. They bounced away with wide eyes, staring at him, clearly frightened.

Arius looked around. This room was certainly nicer, and obviously a bathing room. His other good jacket, a steel gray brocade stitched with a line of interlocked white rings along the lapel, hem and cuffs, was draped over a nearby dressing screen, a white shirt and black hose tucked beneath it. Last he recalled that outfit had been packed at the bottom of his saddlebags.

Plush white carpets were squashed beneath his boots, and the walls here were papered with the golden lily seal. If he hadn’t known better, he might even think he was in the High Lord’s own bathing room. He turned his attention to the big tub in the center of the room, already full of steaming hot water. Beside it was a bucket of water, most likely cool, for rinsing. He stumbled over to the bucket, dropping to his knees and thrusting his head into the very cold water, then sat up and threw his head back, gasping.

The bleariness cleared immediately. He shuddered and took a closer look at the diminutive maidservants, who were staring at him with eyes wide as saucers. “I’m sorry, I just-. I just needed that.”

They didn’t respond, just continued to watch him with those big eyes, one set blue and the other brown. He grunted. “Am I supposed to bathe and dress then?”

Twin nods as they stared. “Out then. I can bathe myself, and I’ve been dressing on my own since I was a child. Out!” They scrambled from the room. He heard the lock when the door shut behind them, but decided to stubbornly ignore it.

He stripped, leaving his clothing where it fell, and bathed as quickly as he could. Scrubbing his hair dry with his towel, he looked over his fresh clothing, which obviously had been brushed clean and had the wrinkles shaken out. Well, at least he would look good when the noose was put around his neck. He untangled his hair the best he could with no comb and twisted it back into its braid, and then dressed swiftly. Arius supposed that now was the time to fully reclaim his past. Arius would be put aside, and he would become Veyga again. He sighed. It had been nice, for awhile, to forget about that past.

He was just doing up the buttons on his jacket and grumbling about his missing sword belt when the door opened again. A silent guard motioned for him to follow, and led him down another maze of hallways- how big was this palace?- to another huge set of doors. This time, he was led through the doors with no announcement, six guards falling into step around him. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought they were an honor guard. Unbidden, images flashed through his head; this palace hadn’t always been this big. He remembered when only the central core had stood- the rest of the palace was surely generations younger- and there had been no Great Wall then.

Down another runner, and surrounded by even more people this time. This must be the usual assembly room, and there was the High Lord up a short flight of stairs on another dais, settled into his great chair throne-line, the golden lily spread above the gray-winged chestnut head. More images flickered behind his eyes. Once, long ago, the golden lily seal had been a golden wreath- when had that been? A thousand years ago now?

The High Lord met his stare seriously from across the room, and the room quieted as he walked closer and closer. More and more of the people gathered there noticed him surrounded by his guards, the weight of a hundred sets of eyes pressing on him. Faces blazed through his memory- the High Lord’s family had sat on this throne for more than two hundred years…

Veyga reached the end of the runner and dropped to one knee, left fist placed before him and right hand hanging beside him; he had no hilt to touch. “Honor to Anyon, honor to the High Lord, my life is yours.” A few gasps through the crowd at his daring, but he had no sword to offer. Surely he never would. He recalled a little known law of Anyon… There was a book about it in the Royal Library… Or at least there had been, one hundred years ago…

A man stepped forward, dressed in the white and gold palace livery. He unrolled a heavy piece of parchment, and began to recite the crimes that Master Veyga of Ragged Valley was accused of. The list was quite extensive, and even to himself Veyga was forced to admit that there were more crimes not accounted for. He did not lower his eyes, but continued to meet the sober gaze of High Lord Gregor. He would not go to his death without honor, even for Ragged Valley. Death?! No! He was so close already- he had to reach Polien- he couldn’t give up now- what was that law? Think!

Without waiting for a nod from the High Lord, Veyga stood, eliciting more gasps from the crowd. His jaw firmed as the final memory clicked into place. Whose memory? “My liege, High Lord Gregor, I ask leave to demand Sa’san.”

Was that satisfaction on the High Lord’s face? Surely not… but then again, the High Lord had seated himself below Veyga last night; that had been the clue that brought the memory to the surface. Even the High Lord was not the final judge in Anyon, he was not the highest power; every man had the right to demand the Sa’san. Again, whose memory had it been? Surely not his own.

A rustle behind him, and he smelled her scent moments before Rayna was there, throwing herself down before the High Lord. “My liege!” She dropped down to a deep curtsey. “Honor to Anyon, honor to the High Lord.” Women, of course, did not pledge themselves in service. “I beg permission to speak before this man is judged.”

The High Lord considered her for a moment, and then he glanced quickly at Veyga where he was practically quivering with anger. How dare she interrupt the Sa’san! Didn’t she know what she was doing? But no, Sa’san had not been demanded for at least three generations; well before she had even been born. Well before her own father had been born, surely. She couldn’t know.

The High Lord nodded sagely. “You may stand and speak, Lady Fairhaven of Wensellas Lordship.”

She pushed gracefully to her feet and stepped back to stand beside Veyga. “Lady Fairhaven of Ragged Valley, my liege.”

Gasps and whispers rose all around them. The High Lord’s only reaction was to raise both brows in curiosity. Rayna took a deep breath before beginning her plea. “This man, my liege, acted only for the best interest of his people- Our people. He has acted as a good Lord should, even though he did not hold the title. Even though he did not collect taxes for his coffers, and even though there was no personal gain in what he did for his people, he protected them and even now offers his life for their safety and protection. What man here can say that? What Lord, or Baron, or Baronet, can say that? I beg you to consider a pardon for this man’s accused crimes, my liege. This man has made sacrifice after sacrifice after sacrifice, completely unselfishly. Please, my liege, I beg you to consider leniency.”

The High Lord was silent for long moments; the entire room seemed to be holding its breath. Then he shook his head sadly. “Indeed, I cannot consider leniency, Lady Fairhaven. There are laws that have been broken; should I consider leniency for some lawbreakers, I should have to consider leniency for all lawbreakers, and that I am not willing to do.”

She seemed to sink into herself, but Veyga continued to stand tall. It had been a slim hope anyhow. But maybe, with Sa’san…

“I will, however, grant you Sa’san, Master Veyga of Ragged Valley.”

Confused murmurs rose behind him. With a slight hitch of his breath, Veyga nodded soberly, dropping again to his knee, fist before him. “Honor to Anyon, honor to the High Lord, my life is yours.” This time he bowed his head and waited to be acknowledged.

“Rise Master Veyga. Sa’san will commence on the morrow.”

That night Veyga slept fitfully on the narrow cot in the cell he’d been returned to. He took turns between dozing and waking, and each time he stirred he found himself wishing he had his saddlebags and a mug of hot water; he’d do nearly anything for one of Eithna’s teas right now. He needed to be at his sharpest come morning, to perform the Sa’san.

Memories flitted through his head. Were they memories, though? Flashes of knowledge? They weren’t his memories; at least he was pretty sure they weren’t. With his head spinning from the events of the last two days, he wasn’t certain of anything. How had he known of the Sa’san? He’d never even heard of it before, so how did he know what it was now? How had he known to demand it as his right, and had that really been that satisfaction he had seen on the High Lord’s face?

Rayna had watched him with haunted eyes as he’d been led away, confusion flitting across her face. She hadn’t known he would be there; she had thought she had been coming to appeal on behalf of Ragged Valley all by herself. He didn’t understand her motives- she’d never even been to Ragged Valley- she’d be unable to find her way there if someone didn’t take her. He’d made sure of the location before choosing it. Not that it was impossible to find; after all they did do some trading, albeit as little as possible. But Ragged Valley had certainly cut itself off from the rest of the world as much as possible.

Veyga sighed and rolled onto his side, staring at the blank wall beside the cot. He was waiting for the dream to creep up on him, but tonight it left him in relative peace. Fragments snuck into his mind all the same; what was the meaning of all of it, and why had that last dream seemed so different? His image had told him that he had ‘become ready,’ so what did that entail? How had it happened?

He couldn’t quite capture the last part of the dream. He remembered his image surging towards him, and this time there had been a sense of finality to it. He remembered feeling overwhelmed, but that was it. It felt as if someone had snipped away part of his memory; the space where it should have been felt empty.

Finally he did sleep deeper, and finally he did dream, but this time the dreams were superficial. Ragged Valley, burning before his eyes. Kayli lying broken on the ground, eyes staring, flies crawling across her face. Mik with a rope around his neck, swaying slightly in the wind as the flames licked his feet. The streets of Ragged Valley were quiet; the crackling, roaring flames gobbling the little cottages made the only sound. Just normal dreams, nothing special. But when he woke the next morning, there were tears on his cheeks.

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“You have demanded Sa’san, Master Veyga of Ragged Valley, and you will be granted Sa’san, as is the law of Anyon. Sa’san has not been demanded for one hundred and six years.” The scribe stood at High Lord Gregor’s shoulder, reading from the scroll he held up to the light. Veyga stood at the base of the dais in the assembly hall, back in his black coat. He had been allowed his sword this time, although his hands were tied behind his back with a strong cord.

High Lord Gregor was watching him carefully, closely, as the scroll was read aloud, the scribe’s voice raised so that every person packed into the assembly room would hear. Rayna was somewhere behind him, Jared at her side; he had caught a glimpse of them as he’d been led up the runner.

“You are accused of treason, Master Veyga of Ragged Valley, as well as more than a hundred minor crimes. Do you claim innocence for these crimes?”

He hesitated only a moment before responding, bracing himself with a deep breath. “I claim innocence for the claim of treason; for the remainder of the crimes, I admit guilt.” What was the point in denying those other charges? He’d committed them, he would do them again if need asked for it.

This brought a murmur from the room behind him, but he ignored the sound as the scribe continued. “As the legal emissary of Ragged Valley, you claim that its citizens will swear fealty to High Lord Gregor, and that Ragged Valley will follow the laws of Anyon completely. You have requested that Ragged Valley be brought within the protective boundaries of Anyon, is that correct Master Veyga?”

“That is correct.” Another deep breath; casually, though- there was no sense in making it obvious that he was shaking in his boots. Sweat rolled down his back. End this, get it over with, hurry it up… Have to reach Polien…

“The High Lord Gregor will grant the protection of Anyon to Ragged Valley, for as long as Ragged Valley stands loyal. The citizens of Ragged Valley will swear fealty to Anyon and also to whomever is granted the title of Lord of Ragged Valley.”

Veyga blinked. Somehow, it had never crossed his mind that of course Ragged Valley would be assigned a Lord. That was how the lordships worked, that was how Anyon worked. A crawling sensation tugged across his scalp. Who would be granted Ragged Valley? Who would ensure that it was cared for, and tended, and protected? Surely not Veyga, not with claims of treason hanging over his head. Even if he passed Sa’san, there would always be doubt. Could Veyga bend knee to a Lord? Could Mik, and Kayli? What if the man was someone like Lord Beys? Everything he had worked for would be undone.

“Lady Fairhaven of Ragged Valley, step forward.”

More confused murmurs from behind him, but also soft footfalls as Rayna walked confidently up the runner to stand at his side.

“Lady Fairhaven of Ragged Valley, you have requested to be assigned the Lordship of Ragged Valley, is that correct?” Veyga’s knees gave out, and he fell forward as his heart stuttered. Rayna had requested-. Hope had him squeezing his eyes shut. No one stepped forward to help him rise again. The murmurs behind them rose; it was rare for a woman to request retainer of a lordship. Not impossible, but certainly rare.

“That is correct.” A brief touch on his shoulder, and he looked up to meet the brief flicker of her gaze. He hoped she did not notice the sheen of tears in his eye.

“High Lord Gregor hereby grants the lordship of Ragged Valley to Lady Rayna Fairhaven, in honor of her dedication and loyalty to Anyon. Lady Fairhaven, you will ensure that the laws of Anyon are followed and enforced in Ragged Valley, and you will guarantee the fealty of its citizens to Anyon and to the High Lord Gregor.”

“I do so declare that I will enforce the laws of Anyon. I do so guarantee the fealty of the citizens of Ragged Valley to Anyon and the High Lord Gregor.” Her voice was firm and confident, and Veyga had to swallow hard past the knot in his throat.

“The crimes of the citizens of Ragged Valley are hereby wiped clean as if they had never happened. Ragged Valley is now accepted as a lordship of Anyon, and Lady Fairhaven is now accepted as the Lady of Ragged Valley.”

Mik’s crimes, Kayli’s crimes… The crimes of the children, of the farmers and bakers and blacksmiths and soldiers… It was more than he could have asked for: a clean slate and a fresh chance. An opportunity to walk free, with their heads held high. It was worth his life for that. He would give it ten times more if he could, in order to ensure that it happened.

“Lady Fairhaven, you may step back.”

Another quick touch on his shoulder before she turned to walk away, just a brief contact that spoke volumes. Rayna would care for Ragged Valley. She would protect it, she would nurture it, and she would help it with its first stumbling steps as a lordship. Things would change- they would have to- and he hoped fervently that Ragged Valley was ready for the transformation.

“Master Veyga, you are no longer a man with a home. You are no longer a citizen of Ragged Valley.” Veyga forced himself not to flinch. It was bad enough that he was facing the rest of this on his knees, but he was certain he would be unable to stand with his hands tied; at least not without making a further fool of himself. He hadn’t realized how much that would hurt, that removing of home and hearth. Even though he knew that if he survived Sa’san, he would be accepted back in Ragged Valley, he would be offered the chance to swear fealty to Anyon, High Lord Gregor, and also to Rayna, it still hurt.

“Master Veyga, Sa’san will now commence.”

He was dragged roughly back onto his feet by two guards, and his head swum while he was pushed forward up the dais and then shoved down to kneel right at High Lord Gregor’s feet. His forehead was nearly against the man’s knees. This was the reason he was tied, to ensure that he could not harm the High Lord. He kept his head bowed; there was no sense in trying to provoke the guards who now stood with their swords drawn, the blades touching the back of his neck.

Something was placed over his head; some sort of helmet. It was a thing that tingled with energy; a magic instrument from another age that could drag truth from even the most demented soul. What followed was a nightmarish round of questions regarding the accusations that had been posted against him. He wasn’t sure how he answered. His mind had been seized by that strange helmet, and his consciousness had been tucked away into a corner somewhere, the door shut and firmly locked. When the helmet was removed some time later- it could have been hours, or it could have been days- he was visibly shaking and soaked with sour sweat. His teeth clattered together, and he clenched his jaw tightly to quiet them.

The room was thoroughly silent and a sense of horror washed over him. Had he answered well? In his heart he knew he had never once done anything that could be construed as treason, but what had been asked? Was the High Lord trustworthy enough to ensure the correct questions had been asked, or had the questions been asked in a manner to make him seem guilty anyway? That was the only flaw with Sa’san- it took an honest man to perform the test, or it would be pointless. Every truth was only a version; there was always another viewpoint that was equally true, but completely different.

He was hustled to his feet again, but his knees would not support him, and instead he sagged in the grip of two guards as he was dragged back off the dais. The High Lord was speaking, but Veyga’s ears were ringing at the sudden movement, and he couldn’t make out the words. He tried to raise his head to look up at the man, but he couldn’t manage it. There just wasn’t any strength left in him; his truth had been wrung from him, leaving him feeling like a limp dishrag.

He was slowly lowered back to his knees, and with his arms still tied behind him, he collapsed forward to sprawl across the runner, cheek pressed into the rough fabric, eye staring but not seeing the people watching him so closely. He hadn’t known how hard it would be. He hadn’t known how much of him would be torn away to expose the legitimacy of his innocence. He let his eye close; there was no point, when he could not see.

He was barely conscious as he was dragged again to his feet and his arms were draped across two sets of shoulders; one set tall and wide and one set slight and delicate. He tried to help, he tried to at least move his feet, but he finally gave up and let the darkness wash over him once again.

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Rayna watched Veyga closely as he slept, her heart heavy. He had sacrificed so much for his Ragged Valley. She sincerely hoped it was worth it, and if it wasn’t she would make sure it became that way. Did the citizens understand what he had done for them? It had been nine days since that strange ritual. Nine days that he had not stirred even a little.

“How is he?”

She looked up to meet Jared’s sober stare and shrugged. “The same.” She returned her gaze to the bed, concern written across her face.

Jared came to sit in the only other chair in the room, pulling it up on the other side of the bed where they had tucked Arius so gently beneath the blankets. They were back in the inn that Jared had chosen for them that first day in Anyon. He reached up to gently place the back of his hand across Arius’ brow, feeling for a return of the fever that had raged through him until the previous day when it had broken with a vengeance. “Still cool.”

Rayna nodded. “I checked too. Jared, I-.” She hesitated, torn. She hadn’t wanted to talk about it before; hadn’t wanted to relive that horrid scene from the assembly room. “What was that? That- that Sa’san?”

Jared shrugged uncomfortably, his blue eyes grim. “I’m not really sure. Some sort of truth test, I guess.”

“What did it do to him? I don’t understand. I-.” She swallowed hard. “It was magic, wasn’t it?”

Another uncomfortable shrug. “I think so. It had to be, I guess.” His eyes went to where his hand had touched Arius’ forehead- to the now-fading red marks where the strange helmet had touched the skin.

The scene flashed again through Rayna’s head and she shuddered. The helmet had been placed on his head by High Lord Gregor himself. He had stiffened, then he had mewled like a little kitten, and once he had quieted again, the High Lord had begun an intense round of questioning about the crimes that had been blamed on the infamous Veyga. Some of the questions, and even the answers, hadn’t made any sense to her, but the High Lord must have understood and accepted them, since Arius- she refused to think of him as Veyga- had been declared innocent of treason and his crimes had been purged and wiped clean. He had succeeded in all of his goals, but at what cost? When the questions had ended, when he had given his last answer, he had been quaking and he’d been bleeding from the ears and nose. The effects had continued even after she and Jared had helped carry him from the room. He had had seizures half a dozen times now, as well as the raging fever, and he had yet to awaken from his blackout after the ritual.

She sighed deeply and settled back in her chair. Jared glanced toward her. “You should go get some sleep; you’ve had a long day.”

Today Rayna had sworn her fealty as Lady of the Ragged Valley lordship. She wasn’t the first Lord or Lady to never have set her sights on her lordship before, but it did worry her a little that she had promised that her citizens would swear fealty both to her and to Anyon. She sent up a little prayer that they would, with little or even no persuading. To ensure cooperation, the High Lord Gregor was sending a small army with her; six hundred of Anyon’s soldiers to quell any resistance.

Her prayer reminded her of Arius’ search for information about Razakel, and she glanced toward his saddlebags tucked beneath the table nearby. She had been so tempted to read more of Eithna’s book, to see if there was anything in it that could help, but it had felt like a betrayal for her to poke through his belongings. He would wake, he had to. Then he could look for himself.

“I’m fine, I’d rather be here.” She was to leave on the morrow for Ragged Valley, her army at her back.

He only nodded and settled back into his own chair. The night was encroaching, and neither of them sought their beds as they waited for him to wake.

Eventually, Rayna nodded off, her chin resting on her chest. She woke with a start, sitting up and groaning at the aches her position had left behind. She glanced toward Jared, who was snoring softly, his head nearly resting on Arius’ chest and one long arm tucked up beside them on the bed.

A soft sigh tore her gaze from Jared to Arius, who was just starting to stir. She leapt to her feet and scrambled to his side, perching carefully on the edge of the feather mattress as his good eye fluttered open. He focused blearily on her after a moment, a crease between his brows. “Rayna?” It came out as a soft whisper, and she nodded, tears in her eyes.

At least he recognized her. The High Lord had granted her a private audience after her fealty ceremony. He had grimly inquired after Master Veyga, and she had reluctantly admitted that he had not yet recovered. The scene played out in her mind again.

“He may not, just so you are prepared for that.” The High Lord’s face had been grim. She must have looked shocked, because he had shaken his head with a deep sigh. “Some don’t. The Sa’san is a difficult trial at best, and no man could pass a sentence that strong, but it is certainly effective. Some men who have endured it have lost all memories; their minds fleeing the ordeal. I suspect that one is made of sterner stuff, but just… don’t expect too much from him.”

“If it’s that dangerous, then why did you allow it?” She had hesitated, blushing at her outburst. “My liege.”

“He demanded it, girl. I had no right to disallow it.” He had glared darkly, but she had seen the satisfaction glittering in those brown eyes. “This does not leave this room, do you understand?”

She had nodded, uncertain.

“I am glad he demanded the Sa’san. I would prefer not to have a man so enmeshed in his own people’s honor hang for it. There was no other way for me to grant him his freedom.”

“Rayna?”

She jerked her attention back to Arius, who was feebly trying to push himself into a sitting position. She pressed her palms against his bare chest, and it was a sign of his weakness that she barely had to exert any pressure to lay him back down. “You need to rest.”

“What happened?” He looked ten years older than his age, and as she met his gaze she saw another fifty years within that gray eye.

“You endured the Sa’san.”

He sucked in a sharp breath, eye widening perceptively. “I did it?”

Rayna nodded. “You did. You have been cleared of all charges, and you have your freedom.”

He shuddered and closed his eye, collapsing back into the mattress in obvious relief. “Thank the Gods and Goddesses.”

“Ari- what was that? The Sa’san? How did you even know about it?” She leaned forward to touch his forehead, checking to be sure his skin was still cool.

“It was a- a test, a trial, I guess.” His voice gained strength with every word, although he still looked like death warmed over. “I don’t know how I knew about it. It just- came to me, that I needed to demand it. Maybe I… read about it somewhere.”

“How does it work? Is it- Was it magic?”

He shuddered again, and she cupped his cheek gently. His jaw worked beneath her palm, and she watched him swallow hard, then he forced his eye open again. “Yes, it was. I don’t know how it works, it just does. It is impossible to lie while wearing the helmet.”

“For something that has seemingly left our world, I’ve been seeing an awful large amount of magic lately. All tied to you, Ari. It has to mean something.”

He met her concerned stare steadily, calmly. But she could feel his jaw clenching again beneath her palm. He took a shivery breath, letting it out slowly. “I know. But I don’t know what it means. Maybe there will be answers in Polien.”

She pulled her hand away from his cheek reluctantly and leaned over to gently shake Jared. “Jared, wake up.”

Jared groaned a little but slowly sat up, stretching stiffly. He grinned foolishly at Arius when he noticed that the other man was awake. “How do you feel?”

Veyga offered a little smile, but it was without humor. “I feel like a squashed roach. I seem to feel that way a lot lately, although I think this is the worst of it.” His breath hitched, as if that little speech had taken too much out of him.

Rayna smiled as well, but hers was more from relief than anything. “Well, how does that saying go? Something about there only being one way to go once you get to the bottom of the barrel?”

Jared laughed a little. “That’s about the half of it. I’m glad to see you sensible, Arius. I think Ragged Valley will be thankful as well.” Rayna had told him about her conversation with the High Lord.

Veyga tensed and turned a frantic gray eye to Rayna. “Ragged Valley… Rayna, thank you. I can never repay you, not ever. Not even my life can repay you. Just ask your boon, anything, it’s yours.”

She shook her head. “No boon, Ari. I did it as much for myself as for you. I remembered that home you talked about, that place to belong. I hope it will be that way for me as well. Will you return with me?”

He wanted to say yes. By the seven hells, he wanted to shout it. But no… Polien… The Hell Hounds on his heels… He had more important duties now. His promises had been kept; no others tied him to Ragged Valley now. “I wish I could. I wish it so hard that my heart weeps.” His gaze grew unfocused, turned inward. “I have responsibilities that must be taken care of first.”

“The dreams, Ari?” That gray eye sharpened on her, and she shivered a little as he nodded silently.

Jared’s smile had slipped. “The dreams? What about the dreams?”

Rayna shared a warning look with Veyga. He sighed deeply and shook his head at her before answering. “They’ve continued, I’m afraid. And… there are some things I need to take care of.” Some things? Was the whole world ‘some things’ and nothing more?

Jared was frowning now. “I think maybe we need to return you to Eithna, Arius. Maybe there is something more seriously wrong with you that these things continue. And I’m sure that she will be concerned about the aftereffects of that Sa’sar, or whatever it was. We could rent a carriage, I am sure. I have coin enough for that.”

A frail laugh startled them both. “No, but thank you, Jared. I must continue to Polien. How… how many days since I left Wensellas lordship?”

Jared counted quickly. “Nearly a score.”

Veyga hissed through his teeth, and Rayna reached out a hand to check for a fever again. He lifted a hand to weakly swat her away. “I need to be up out of this bed.”

Rayna frowned darkly and crossed her arms over her chest. “Absolutely not.”

He tried to glare back, but Jared laid a hand on his shoulder. “She’s right, Arius. You’ve been through more than you even know, and there is no possibility of you being on your feet right now. Try it and you’ll be lucky not to crack your thick skull. Another night won’t hurt you, and won’t have you on the road any slower. Let’s see if you’re feeling stronger tomorrow.”

He grumbled under his breath, and neither Rayna nor Jared was able to catch more than a few words. But even before he was done grouching, his eye was sliding closed, and his breaths were growing heavier and slower. Moments later, and he was fast asleep.

“I must go, Jared. I have a long journey ahead of me. It appears I’m going to have to return to Wensellas lordship to gather up his-.” She paused, tapping her lips with a fingertip. “Hm, this will take a little getting used to. I’ll have to stop to gather up my men to take me and my army home. It’s a fine pickle when I don’t even know how to find my own lordship. Will you stay with him?”

He nodded. “As long as I may, as long as he’ll have me. Take my best to Eithna, will you?”

She nodded in return and stood, pausing just long enough to touch her fingertips to Arius’ lips, and then she slipped from the room.

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“Quit being a stubborn goat and let me help you.” Jared was tugging at Veyga’s black coat, trying to force the other man to see reason.

“You’re not a valet, Jared. I can dress myself. I’ve been doing so since I was old enough to walk.” Veyga gave the coat a feeble yank of his own, but at least the sleeve was pulled out of Jared’s hands.

The nobleman threw up his hands in exasperation. “You’re weak as a kitten; at least let me help, to preserve some of your strength.”

“Thanks for the reminder. I’m fine, Jared. Quit trying to play my nursemaid. I swear you’re worse than your wife.” There was no heat in Veyga’s tone, in spite of the brittle words. He turned to face the tall looking glass in the corner and carefully slipped his arms into the sleeves of the coat, slowly concentrating to slide each button through its hole. Once it was fastened, he tugged a little to straighten everything out. “Presentable, at least.”

Veyga looked himself over carefully, noting the lack of sheen to his golden hair and the deep furrows beneath his eye and peeking from beneath the eye patch. He looked tired. Well, he felt tired, so he supposed that was only right. His clothing hung on him; he looked like he’d wasted away in the fortnight and a half since he’d left Wensellas lordship. He hoped that getting a few good meals down would make him look a little less starved. There wasn’t much he could do for it now.

The red marks slashed across his forehead and the tops of his ears were tender to the touch still, but they had faded enough to be near invisible unless you knew what to look for. He wasn’t sure how that damn helmet had left marks like that behind, and he thought maybe it was best he didn’t know how. There were some things he simply didn’t want to know.

His braid was tidy enough; he had been forced to allow Jared to play lady’s maid when he’d lacked the strength to even drag his brush through the tangled mess. He had threatened to cut Jared’s tongue out if anyone ever found out about it. Jared had responded by reminding him that he’d been playing nursemaid to him for the last nine days, and who exactly did Veyga think had bathed him, and changed the bedding he’d soiled while unconscious, and for that matter who did he think had helped undress him and get him into the bed in the first place?

With a fierce flush that even made the red marks start to throb, Veyga had mumbled something and snatched the brush from Jared’s hand, but had been forced to hand it back over when his arms wouldn’t cooperate enough to finish the job. Jared had just laughed.

With a deep breath, Veyga fumbled his sword belt on. He hoped no one took it into his fool head to test his skill with a blade anytime in the next day or so- he probably couldn’t even draw the damn thing- it had taken most of the strength he had left to even pick it up. “This is ridiculous. How am I going to even sit my horse?”

Jared just crossed his arms over his chest and lifted his brows in response. Veyga’s scowl was quicksilver, there and gone in a heartbeat. He sighed. “I know you want me to stay in bed, but really, Jared, I have to go. I have to reach Polien.”

“Then let me rent a carriage. We can tie the horses behind, and when you are strong enough, then we can ride.”

“I’m sick of being coddled, Jared. I’m a man grown and it’s time I started to act like it.” First Eithna, then Rayna, and now Jared. Those damned dreams sapped his strength, and if anyone else tried to convince him that it was best he just stayed in bed, he was bound to do something drastic. Assuming he could lift a finger in the first place.

He snarled a little, jerking at the hem of his coat one more time before spinning on his heel to stalk from the room. It was only ruined a little by the stumble before he caught himself with another small snarl. Jared was smiling mildly from the doorway, their saddlebags slung one over each shoulder. Veyga decided to not argue about carrying his own gear, and he led the way from the room and down the hall to the stairway where he hesitated before slowly making his way down into the common room, right hand white-knuckled on the railing that followed the stairs down. When his knees didn’t buckle, he picked up his pace- but only a little- and before he knew it, they were in the courtyard and a groom was leading their mounts out to them- Smoke prancing and Jared’s own black gelding eyeing the agitated stallion nervously.

Jared tied their saddlebags in place, and then crossed his arms and stood back to wait. Veyga cast him a questioning glance, and then flushed again to realize that the other man was waiting to see if he’d be able to mount on his own. With a final small sneer, he carefully levered himself into the saddle. If he flopped around a bit, well so be it. He glared at Jared until the other man swung smoothly into his own saddle. Smoke began to dance about then, and it took all of Veyga’s attention to keep his seat. He motioned with his head, and Jared took the lead out of the courtyard.

Smoke calmed down soon enough once they were moving, and Veyga took advantage to doze in the saddle. It was a trick he’d perfected over the years, and it served him well now. It helped that he trusted Jared to warn him if there were any danger. The sleep wasn’t entirely restful- it wasn’t as good as being tucked beneath a quilt on a good feather mattress- but it was better than nothing.

Jared kept a close eye on him as they rode. Smoke made him a little nervous; the stallion was a little skittish, and liable to shy at the slightest provocation. There was little other traffic as they left Ay’marne behind, and the further they travelled down the South Road, the fewer people they encountered. Jared was thankful for that; it allowed him to keep a little more attention on his companion and a little less on those around them.

Arius certainly didn’t see what they had seen. He had stated at least a dozen times that he just looked tired, but both Jared and Rayna had seen more. He looked ill; seriously ill, like he was wasting away and it had simply gotten worse over the last moonturn. Jared had noticed it before, while still at Wensellas lordship, but hadn’t thought too much of it until he’d caught up to Arius at the inn that morning that he’d ridden all night to catch up to him. It had taken all his willpower not to stare when the man had joined him at the table, and he’d berated himself for not noticing it sooner. Eithna would have his hide if she thought one of her patients was ailing and he hadn’t brought it to her attention.

Counting back, Jared was certain that it had started that night that Arius’ dreams had made the manor quake. Something had broken loose in the man, and it wasn’t knitting up correctly. Surely it would be best to take him back to Eithna… But he’d committed himself, and he stood by his word no matter what, and so here they were traveling south to a place he’d never heard of before.

Jared had sent out a request through his network of spies, seeking information about this place known only as Polien. Nothing had come back yet, but he had ways of getting his messages, and if there was information out there, it would find its way to him. In the meantime, he would hawk-watch his charge, and do his best to not seem to obvious while doing it.

The young man had a prickly pride for certain. Jared wasn’t sure what was more frustrating, the strange illness or the man’s stubborn conceit that all was fit and if he would just push on it would end well. There was something to be said for rest and a good meal, and only an idiot pushed himself beyond breaking. At what point would Arius shatter?

All the same, Jared had certainly committed himself, and so he continued to ride, and only once Arius was really, truly, deeply asleep in the saddle did he cautiously clip a lead line to Smoke’s bridle, tying the other end to a ring on his cantle to ensure the stallion didn’t throw his exhausted charge.

When the sun had reached midday overhead, he paused long enough to unclip the lead line and tuck it into his saddlebag before gently calling for Arius to wake. He’d chosen an inn to eat their midday meal, and rode roughshod over Arius’ protests that they should continue to ride. Jared’s calm was pricked a little, though, when he almost had to catch the younger man as Arius collapsed from the saddle, barely catching himself by clinging to Smoke’s mane with desperately grasping finger. “I’m hungry, Arius, and if you’re going to drag me into this damned fool adventure, then the least you can do is not whine when I want to eat something.”

Veyga bit his tongue, and didn’t look closely enough to see the worry in Jared’s blue eyes. He was hungry too, truth be told, and the smells in the common room had his mouth watering. Roast beef and gravy and turnips, and he dropped heavily onto an empty bench just inside the door, not sure his legs could carry him further. A serving girl was at his shoulder before he could straighten his jacket, and he ordered a bowl for each of them. Jared ambled in a few moments later, having sent the horses off. If Veyga had waited a few more moments, he would have seen the dark-garbed figure that pressed a folded piece of parchment into Jared’s hand.

The food was as good as it smelled, and Veyga was relieved at the return of his appetite. He wiped his bowl clean with a crust from his bread and hesitated only a moment before asking for a second bowl. Jared nodded approvingly as he made his way through his first bowl. When they had finished their meal, both men leaned on their arms, sighing contentedly. Jared gave Veyga a sharp glance and then glanced around the room casually. “I’ve had a message.”

Veyga looked confused for a moment, and then his face cleared as understanding dawned. “And?”

“Polien once stood, but stands no more. However, there is a temple there, long forgotten. It’s quite a journey.”

“How long?” There was a rabid gleam in Veyga’s gray and even feigned nonchalance was forgotten as the younger man began to sweat. Jared frowned darkly at him, but Veyga was beyond caring. “Jared, how long?”

“At least four moonturns, riding at a temperate pace. In the condition you’re in now, it will take at least five.”

Veyga sneered. “I’ll be fine in a day or two. Come on, let’s ride.” He forced himself back to his feet, and Jared followed docilely, watching him carefully.

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