“We told the innkeeper you were asleep, and so he’s turned in himself,” the first man said, and casually sat in the chair just vacated by Jenrosa. The other two stayed behind Lynan.
Lynan looked at the man blankly. “What?”
“A wonderful purifying thing, fire,” the seated man said. “Did you know that in some cultures only males are allowed to start a fire, and in others women are considered the guardians of the flame?”
Lynan shook his head. He wanted to leave, but found himself cornered by his own uncertainty. These were farmers, that was all, he assured himself. No reason to go screaming for Kumul. I cannot spend all my life jumping at shadows and doubts.
“Wonderful and purifying,” repeated the fanner. He cocked his head and glanced at Lynan out of the corner of his eye. “I know you, young sir, I am sure of it.”
“We’ve never met,” Lynan replied, trying to keep out of his voice the frog that had suddenly appeared in the bottom of his throat.
The man extended a hand and Lynan felt compelled to take it. “Jes Prado.” He pointed to the two men behind him. “And these are Bazik and Aesor.”
“Migam,” Lynan returned shortly. “Are you a farmer hereabouts?”
Prado nodded. “I know your face. Do you have a brother?”
“No.”
“A cousin, then?” Jes stretched out his hands to warm them by the fire.
“Possibly. I don’t know all my uncles.”
“Then maybe it was your father.”
Lynan swallowed. “I don’t think so.” Shame burned his face.
Prado wagged a finger. “Now, I know there’s some connection.” He held a hand up. “No! No, don’t tell me. I’ll remember. Where are you from, Migam?”
“A village, just north of Ebrius Ridge.”
“I haven’t spent much time in that region, I’m afraid. No clue there. Is your father a merchant? Someone who travels?”
“No. He was a farmer. He grew wheat.”
“Was a farmer? He’s dead? I’m sorry to hear it. Did he ever buy slaves for his land?”
Lynan looked up, horrified, before he could stop himself. “No!”
“Ah, then maybe we haven’t met,” Prado said evenly.
Lynan stood up, but two heavy hands rested on his shoulders and gently forced him back into his seat.
“There was a man called Elynd,” Jes continued. “He was much like you, Migam, if older and broader, but I can see you will fill out with time. He was husband to a great woman, but he met with a terrible accident.”
“He was murdered,” Lynan said sullenly, no longer seeing any point in continuing the pretense of not knowing whom Jes was talking about.
Prado shrugged. “He was a victim, Migam, a victim of a political decision.” He cupped his chin in his hands and stared into the fire. “If I have it right, Elynd had a son with this woman, a son now wanted for regicide, a crime generally regarded as being even more terrible than slavery.” The man laughed softly, sending a shiver down Lynan’s spine. “And here you are.”
Lynan tried again to stand up, but the grip on his shoulders became painful. Fingers dug under his collarbone.
“And the big one in your company must be Kumul Alarn. There are few others who would fit that description. I can’t remember the names of the other two, but they’re unimportant. I think the largest reward will be for you. Large enough, in fact, for me to reform my company. What do you think of that?”
Lynan glared at the man, saying nothing.
Prado sighed, extracted a small knife from behind his belt buckle and leaned across. Lynan tried to pull away. “Bazik,” Prado said, and the man holding him placed one strong hand behind his neck and used the other to cover his mouth. Lynan struggled even harder, but the second man now came and stood in front of him and punched him once under the diaphragm. All the wind in his lungs exploded from him, and his eyes watered in shock and pain.
Prado smiled disarmingly as he placed the point of his knife against Lynan’s jaw, just in front of his right ear. “Rendle did not say in what condition you were to be given him, only that you were to be alive. This will teach you to answer questions from your betters.”
Lynan’s head exploded with excruciating agony as the small knife bit deep and dug across his jaw in a line to his chin. His cry was stifled by the hand across his mouth.
“In the old days, when I was a slaver and not a captain, I would not have marked my merchandise in so visible a place. But I have to admit it was satisfying doing that to the son of Elynd Chisal.” Prado wiped the knife on his boot and tucked it back behind his belt. “Think of this as your initiation into adulthood. Welcome to a life of pain, although in your case it sadly looks like being a short life.” He pulled out a kerchief and wiped at the blood streaming down Lynan’s throat and neck, then forced it into Lynan’s hand. “Keep it against the cut. It will serve until we have more time to do a better job.”
Lynan closed his eyes and desperately tried to overcome the pain threatening to make him pass out.
Prado nodded curtly to the man holding Lynan, and he yanked his prisoner to his feet.
“Keep quiet,” Bazik whispered in his ear, “or Jes will cut you again.”
Prado led the way out of the inn, the other two taking Lynan. It was raining outside, and the shock of the cold made Lynan gasp. Blood and water ran down his shirt. He was pushed and dragged around the side of the inn where three horses were tied to wall stakes; full saddlebags and swords hung from their saddles.
Prado held Lynan by his hair. “You can make this ride easy on yourself. You do what you’re told and you’ll be reasonably comfortable, but cross me and I’ll match your new scar on the other side of your face and you’ll be dragged behind like a legless dog on a lead.” He patted Lynan’s head and laughed. “Don’t look so bloody miserable, boy, things will get a lot worse than this for you before your life is over.”
“What about his friends?” Aesor asked.
“Too many for us to take on by ourselves. This is our prize.” Prado mounted one of the horses and put an arm out for Lynan. Lynan hesitated and he was punched in the kidneys for his trouble. Strong hands hooked under his armpits and lifted him behind Prado. “Hold on, Your Highness; you don’t want to fall off.”
The other two mounted their horses. Prado gave a hand signal and the party moved silently out to the main street and then north headlong into the rain, the sound of their passing lost in the night.
Chapter 20
It had been as unexpected as it had been desired. Areava and Sendarus had been in her bedchamber discussing a future that might include the two of them together. Neither had mentioned the marrying of royal houses, or the combined destiny of two great peoples; it had been about making one life out of two, about having children, about growing old together. And then, as if predestined by God, the talk had turned to holding and passionate kissing, and finally to making love.
Afterward, when Sendarus lay sleeping with his head across her belly, she had felt the Keys of Power glowing with a bright warmth between her breasts. She traced a finger along his spine, his neck and cheek, and kissed him lightly on his forehead, then gently moved his head aside and left their bed.
She wrapped herself in a cloak and went to the window to look out over her city and her kingdom. She was not sure what it was she was searching for—a sign perhaps—but she was content to see that everything lay still under the moon and stars. It made her feel as if the universe had expected what had happened between her and Sendarus, and accepted it as part of some destiny. She turned back to her bed and silently watched her lover sleeping on, his mouth curved in the slightest of smiles, and then she saw her blood on the sheets. She was surprised there was so much, and then felt the stickiness between her own thighs.