food down. He
hadn’t told Aiyan about the dream.
“Why have you been gone so long, Uncle Aiyan?” said Jela.
“What have you been doing with yourself?”
Today she wore a plain housedress and had her hair tied
back, but in the morning light her eyes were brighter and her smile softer, and
Kyric caught himself staring at her.
“You know how it is, sweetie,” said Aiyan, quaffing a bowl
of honeyed milk, “the less I say the better. I have spent the last two months
on Esaiya. Before that, I was in Kandin, and before that, Aleria.”
Jela smiled ironically. “Where good Avic-speaking folk are
taming a wilderness in the face of hostile savages.”
“It’s not so bad there,” Aiyan said. “I’ve been to other
former colonies where it is much worse for the natives.”
The two of them chatted while they ate, Aiyan telling her
about a play he had seen in Kandin, asking her why she hadn’t married yet.
Kyric discovered that she was nineteen, a year younger than he, and that she
had had a suitor but no longer saw him. He could tell she was smart, and
wasn’t too surprised to learn that she studied accounting to help in the family
business, which was mainly the wine trade but included a gambling parlor and some
shady dealings in antiquities.
“Shall we all go to the games today?” she said.
“Kyric and I need to wait for the news your father is
bringing. We also need some rest. Besides, the first day is mostly ceremony
and entertainments. The only contest will be spear throwing later this
afternoon.”
“Well I’m going out to see some ceremony and
entertainments,” Jela said, leaving the kitchen.
“Be sure to take a friend,” Aiyan called after her.
“What now?” Kyric asked.
Aiyan shrugged. “Sedlik could be all day. More of the
story I think.”
“Wait. You told me last night that you know someone who was
there two hundred years ago. Who would that be?”
“Be patient. You will know that
when I have finished my story.”
The knight who stood guard over the rear entrance to the
castle, the gate above the tiny quay, was a young man. But his face was of the
ageless sort, neither young nor old.
The night had grown unseasonably warm. Breaking off his
restless pacing, the sentry slipped out of his surcoat and leaned out over the
parapet, letting his thin inner tunic catch the last hint of moving air. All
was still, as if the world held its breath.
A sound. A shadow on the battlements. He whirled, hand on
his sword. “Who goes?” he challenged.
“Fear not, Zahaias. It is only me.” Sorrin stepped
forward.
“I’m sorry, Master Sorrin. I expected no one till dawn.”
Zahaias saw him clearly now, saw that he was dressed for sleep and for battle.
He wore leather breeches tucked into war boots, and he carried his sword. But
his only armor was a nightshirt.
Sorrin leaned in close with a pale and moist face. “Has
anyone come to this gate since you’ve been at watch?”
“No. No one.”
Sorrin nodded and stood still.
“But,” said Zahaias, lowering his voice, “I have been uneasy
this night. Tell me what it is that troubles you, Master Sorrin.”
“I do not know,” he said, turning to face the sea.
Zahaias looked at him. “Some of our brothers say that you
at times have strange dreams. Dreams that hold meaning.”
“Yes,” said Sorrin, his voice distant, “I have dreamed
tonight. I dreamt I saw the world as a great egg. It cracked and split open
and leaked forth a black bile.” Sorrin blotted his face with a sleeve of his
nightshirt. “But who can say what meaning this holds?”
Zahaias said nothing. Sorrin turned to him sharply. “I
charge you this, Zahaias — watch well tonight and let no one pass these walls
without my word. No one. Do you understand?”
“Yes. I shall be vigilant.”
“Who has the watch at the gate to the bridge?”
“Sir Allin.”
Sorrin tugged at his loose
hadn’t told Aiyan about the dream.
“Why have you been gone so long, Uncle Aiyan?” said Jela.
“What have you been doing with yourself?”
Today she wore a plain housedress and had her hair tied
back, but in the morning light her eyes were brighter and her smile softer, and
Kyric caught himself staring at her.
“You know how it is, sweetie,” said Aiyan, quaffing a bowl
of honeyed milk, “the less I say the better. I have spent the last two months
on Esaiya. Before that, I was in Kandin, and before that, Aleria.”
Jela smiled ironically. “Where good Avic-speaking folk are
taming a wilderness in the face of hostile savages.”
“It’s not so bad there,” Aiyan said. “I’ve been to other
former colonies where it is much worse for the natives.”
The two of them chatted while they ate, Aiyan telling her
about a play he had seen in Kandin, asking her why she hadn’t married yet.
Kyric discovered that she was nineteen, a year younger than he, and that she
had had a suitor but no longer saw him. He could tell she was smart, and
wasn’t too surprised to learn that she studied accounting to help in the family
business, which was mainly the wine trade but included a gambling parlor and some
shady dealings in antiquities.
“Shall we all go to the games today?” she said.
“Kyric and I need to wait for the news your father is
bringing. We also need some rest. Besides, the first day is mostly ceremony
and entertainments. The only contest will be spear throwing later this
afternoon.”
“Well I’m going out to see some ceremony and
entertainments,” Jela said, leaving the kitchen.
“Be sure to take a friend,” Aiyan called after her.
“What now?” Kyric asked.
Aiyan shrugged. “Sedlik could be all day. More of the
story I think.”
“Wait. You told me last night that you know someone who was
there two hundred years ago. Who would that be?”
“Be patient. You will know that
when I have finished my story.”
The knight who stood guard over the rear entrance to the
castle, the gate above the tiny quay, was a young man. But his face was of the
ageless sort, neither young nor old.
The night had grown unseasonably warm. Breaking off his
restless pacing, the sentry slipped out of his surcoat and leaned out over the
parapet, letting his thin inner tunic catch the last hint of moving air. All
was still, as if the world held its breath.
A sound. A shadow on the battlements. He whirled, hand on
his sword. “Who goes?” he challenged.
“Fear not, Zahaias. It is only me.” Sorrin stepped
forward.
“I’m sorry, Master Sorrin. I expected no one till dawn.”
Zahaias saw him clearly now, saw that he was dressed for sleep and for battle.
He wore leather breeches tucked into war boots, and he carried his sword. But
his only armor was a nightshirt.
Sorrin leaned in close with a pale and moist face. “Has
anyone come to this gate since you’ve been at watch?”
“No. No one.”
Sorrin nodded and stood still.
“But,” said Zahaias, lowering his voice, “I have been uneasy
this night. Tell me what it is that troubles you, Master Sorrin.”
“I do not know,” he said, turning to face the sea.
Zahaias looked at him. “Some of our brothers say that you
at times have strange dreams. Dreams that hold meaning.”
“Yes,” said Sorrin, his voice distant, “I have dreamed
tonight. I dreamt I saw the world as a great egg. It cracked and split open
and leaked forth a black bile.” Sorrin blotted his face with a sleeve of his
nightshirt. “But who can say what meaning this holds?”
Zahaias said nothing. Sorrin turned to him sharply. “I
charge you this, Zahaias — watch well tonight and let no one pass these walls
without my word. No one. Do you understand?”
“Yes. I shall be vigilant.”
“Who has the watch at the gate to the bridge?”
“Sir Allin.”
Sorrin tugged at his loose
Similar Books
