mean. The Iisand wouldn’t have buried himself alive and left his nobles to run amok.”
Juhrnus frowned, rubbing a hand over his bulging belly. “What happened to the Mesilasema?”
“You don’t know?” It was Vesil again. “When did you go on circuit?”
“Over a year ago. At the harvest.”
Vesil’s expression had turned dark, and a shiver ran down Juhrnus’s spine. “Happened less than a month after that. The Mesilasema died in childbirth. No one could save her.”
But there was a peculiar twist to Vesil’s voice, a twitch in his jaw, a flick of eyes. Something he wasn’t saying. Fear clutched Juhrnus’s throat, and Esper lifted his head, gouging his heavy talons into the tabletop.
“Didn’t Reisiltark try to help?”
Vesil’s shrug said nothing.
“Where is she?”
The other man stroked his squirrel and then pushed away from the table. “Couldn’t say. I’d best be going.”
Juhrnus glanced at the others gathered at the table, but they too had begun to mutter about work and business and rose from the table with sudden alacrity. He watched them go and scowled.
~Sorry Esper. We’re going to have to go out again.
It was late when he returned, empty-handed and more than a little disturbed. He knew the meaning of the green stitching on the vendor’s cloak now. And the lack of interest among his fellow ahalad-kaaslane for Reisil. Only it wasn’t lack of interest. It was suspicion.
He built a fire in his room and stripped, stretching out on the bed, his jaw knotting. No one knew where to find her. She certainly wasn’t staying in the Temple, and the ahalad-kaaslane he asked answered with only shrugs and blank stares. Reisil’s green-wearing supporters were of no help either. Many had seen her recently, but none could—or would—say where to find her. Clearly they wanted to protect her. Juhrnus didn’t much care for the way they looked at him—wary and hard, as if he wanted to hurt her. He’d had about as much luck finding Sodur.
He yawned. Tomorrow. A bath in the morning, and then he’d find them.
~Warm enough? he asked Esper, who was curled against his side.
His question was met with drowsy contentment, and Juhrnus pulled the bedclothes over himself and fell into a heavy sleep.
Juhrnus found Reisil just before noon the next day. He ambled into the stableyard of a cloth merchant. Tirpalema was cousin to Veritsema, mayor of Kallas where both Reisil and Juhrnus had grown up. After searching unsuccessfully, he’d finally remembered when she’d first come to Koduteel, Tirpalema had agreed to stable Indigo. In return, she’d made a point of checking the health of his animals regularly, a fact that brought Juhrnus down to the pink district against the chance she’d be there. He’d been gone so long, he didn’t know her usual haunts—not that she’d had much time to develop any before he left. He’d asked again in the Temple, but the blank stares and shrugs were only repeated.
The stableyard gate was pulled invitingly wide. A sign showing bolts of colorful cloth and a spool of thread and needle swung from the crossbar. He saw Reisil within fastening bulging saddlebags onto Indigo’s saddle, her green cloak vibrant against the snow.
“Leaving town just when I get here? Could make a man worry about his welcome,” he said, sauntering close. She started and spun around. A smile bloomed on her lips, and she ran across the yard, throwing her arms around him.
“Juhrnus! When did you get back?”
He returned the embrace. “Yesterday evening. Thought I’d see you at the Temple.”
She stiffened and pulled away, her hood falling back. She continued to smile, but lines of strain bracketed her lips as if the expression was difficult to maintain. Her pale skin wrapped her skull tautly. Feathers of silky black hair escaped her braid, doing little to soften the angles of her face. They lent her face a severe quality emphasized by the dark circles around her eyes. The golden ivy
Juhrnus frowned, rubbing a hand over his bulging belly. “What happened to the Mesilasema?”
“You don’t know?” It was Vesil again. “When did you go on circuit?”
“Over a year ago. At the harvest.”
Vesil’s expression had turned dark, and a shiver ran down Juhrnus’s spine. “Happened less than a month after that. The Mesilasema died in childbirth. No one could save her.”
But there was a peculiar twist to Vesil’s voice, a twitch in his jaw, a flick of eyes. Something he wasn’t saying. Fear clutched Juhrnus’s throat, and Esper lifted his head, gouging his heavy talons into the tabletop.
“Didn’t Reisiltark try to help?”
Vesil’s shrug said nothing.
“Where is she?”
The other man stroked his squirrel and then pushed away from the table. “Couldn’t say. I’d best be going.”
Juhrnus glanced at the others gathered at the table, but they too had begun to mutter about work and business and rose from the table with sudden alacrity. He watched them go and scowled.
~Sorry Esper. We’re going to have to go out again.
It was late when he returned, empty-handed and more than a little disturbed. He knew the meaning of the green stitching on the vendor’s cloak now. And the lack of interest among his fellow ahalad-kaaslane for Reisil. Only it wasn’t lack of interest. It was suspicion.
He built a fire in his room and stripped, stretching out on the bed, his jaw knotting. No one knew where to find her. She certainly wasn’t staying in the Temple, and the ahalad-kaaslane he asked answered with only shrugs and blank stares. Reisil’s green-wearing supporters were of no help either. Many had seen her recently, but none could—or would—say where to find her. Clearly they wanted to protect her. Juhrnus didn’t much care for the way they looked at him—wary and hard, as if he wanted to hurt her. He’d had about as much luck finding Sodur.
He yawned. Tomorrow. A bath in the morning, and then he’d find them.
~Warm enough? he asked Esper, who was curled against his side.
His question was met with drowsy contentment, and Juhrnus pulled the bedclothes over himself and fell into a heavy sleep.
Juhrnus found Reisil just before noon the next day. He ambled into the stableyard of a cloth merchant. Tirpalema was cousin to Veritsema, mayor of Kallas where both Reisil and Juhrnus had grown up. After searching unsuccessfully, he’d finally remembered when she’d first come to Koduteel, Tirpalema had agreed to stable Indigo. In return, she’d made a point of checking the health of his animals regularly, a fact that brought Juhrnus down to the pink district against the chance she’d be there. He’d been gone so long, he didn’t know her usual haunts—not that she’d had much time to develop any before he left. He’d asked again in the Temple, but the blank stares and shrugs were only repeated.
The stableyard gate was pulled invitingly wide. A sign showing bolts of colorful cloth and a spool of thread and needle swung from the crossbar. He saw Reisil within fastening bulging saddlebags onto Indigo’s saddle, her green cloak vibrant against the snow.
“Leaving town just when I get here? Could make a man worry about his welcome,” he said, sauntering close. She started and spun around. A smile bloomed on her lips, and she ran across the yard, throwing her arms around him.
“Juhrnus! When did you get back?”
He returned the embrace. “Yesterday evening. Thought I’d see you at the Temple.”
She stiffened and pulled away, her hood falling back. She continued to smile, but lines of strain bracketed her lips as if the expression was difficult to maintain. Her pale skin wrapped her skull tautly. Feathers of silky black hair escaped her braid, doing little to soften the angles of her face. They lent her face a severe quality emphasized by the dark circles around her eyes. The golden ivy
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