Needless to say, Taleb had not anticipated the arrest of the woman he’d been escorting, thinking he’d only been charged to a simple errand. Sprinting off now into the surrounding crush of bodies, and leaving Madi in the hands of the officers who would take her to the local jail, he found himself wondering if Oliveah had known anything of this before sending him off. It would have been unlike her to say nothing of it if so, but he couldn’t entirely rule out the possibility, either. It was feasible she’d sent him out unaware simply to see how he dealt with the matter.
Grinning faintly at this thought, he pushed on southward but soon had to pause and ask for directions to Nestleburn Street. The populace appeared friendly but intoxicated. After his third inquiry, he felt he was able to piece together a promising route across the city and continued on with renewed determination. He thought it imperative that Madi not be left in jail a moment longer than necessary, for although he’d never been incarcerated himself, he could well imagine what sort of environment awaited her there. And he had no intention of delivering Oliveah’s friend to her in anything but pristine condition.
Due to the revelers who only seemed to be increasing by the minute, it was nearly Thirteenth by the time he rounded onto Nestleburn and spotted The Seeing Eye halfway down the block. Well aware of Madi’s vocation, he was not surprised to smell the thick scent of incense and see the various cures and good-luck charms displayed all about the interior of the shop when he stepped inside. Looking about, he spied two middle-aged women perusing a rack of liquid-filled vials, and a young man of about his own age behind the counter in the back corner making figures in a large book.
“You are Mika?” Taleb called, striding down the aisle toward him.
Lifting his head, his resemblance to Madi was obvious, both sharing the same ebony-colored hair and sharp cheekbones. For a moment he didn’t reply, his eyes dropping to take in Taleb’s sword, before next fixing upon the arm band marking him as a slave. Taleb was literally counting the days until he could tear that strip of cloth from his arm and declare himself a free man.
“I am,” the black-haired man said, now looking unconcerned.
Taleb stopped before the counter. “Your cousin Madi has been arrested and taken to the jail. She needs you to go pay her fines.”
Mika stared at him. “Is this some sort of trickery? Who are you, and what is the name of the family who owns you?” he demanded.
“My name is Taleb Okin and I belong to the Oslunds. Oliveah sent me.”
Mika paused and frowned, but evidently these words were proof enough to clear his doubts. “What are the charges?” he finally asked.
“Assaulting an officer and inciting a riot.”
Mika’s face turned purple. “There must be some mistake.”
“I’m afraid not. She went with them willingly.”
“They actually arrested her? In public, no less?”
“They did.”
Mika’s eyes blazed. “How dare they! Did they not realize who she is? A Savannon?”
Taleb paused. He found himself thinking he should have expected this; belonging to the Oslunds this past decade, he’d remained shielded from this common snobbery often evidenced by the highborn.
“They made certain of her identity prior to her arrest,” he finally replied blandly.
Furious, Mika slammed the book shut before him and withdrew a bulging, leather money pouch from beneath the counter. “I can’t believe this,” he muttered, affixing the pouch securely to his belt and covering it over with his billowy gray shirt.
Taleb wasn’t certain if he was referring to Madi’s actions or those of the arresting officers. Either way, he was anticipating an ugly scene once he and Mika arrived at the jail.
Mika made a move to step out from out behind the counter, but then spied the two middle-aged women who were continuing to browse about the shop. To Taleb’s disbelief, he then preceded to wait for several minutes, doing nothing to hurry his customers along, until both finally came forth to make a few small purchases. Once they’d finally vanished out the door, the smile he’d affected slipped from his face, replaced by a fierce scowl.
“Let’s get this over with, then. Thankfully I was soon to close anyway.”
Taleb said nothing, following the other man out into the street and then waiting as he locked the door securely behind them. Mika then proceeded to storm through the streets at the quickest pace possible, his temper clearly growing along with his silence. As a slave, Taleb was not supposed to speak unless directly addressed, a rule he didn’t so much mind in the present circumstance, and so he said nothing, simply doing his best to stay near to Mika as they wove their way through the crowds.
Tyrell’s jail, Taleb learned, was located near to the heart of the city, a large, square building constructed of light gray stone. Several Justice officers loitered about outside its front doors, nearly becoming causalities of Mika’s wrath as he shoved his way through them without a word. Taleb followed through the doors with somewhat more care, but remained on the other man’s heels.
“How dare you arrest my cousin!” Mika bellowed, thrashing his way toward the long, polished wooden counter sitting in the antechamber.
The Justice officer sitting behind it raised his eyebrows, unimpressed. “Who are you here for?” he asked in a bored voice, picking up a piece of parchment from the top of the desk.
“Madilaine Savannon,” Mika said clearly. “Savannon,” he repeated pointedly.
“Yes, I heard you well enough the first time,” the officer said, scanning the list of names on the parchment in his hand. Apparently finding her name listed there, he looked up toward the archway leading back to the cells and called, “Madilaine Savannon!” to the officer standing there. The man nodded, then turned away and disappeared under the arch.
“I hope you realize the depth of trouble you’ve stirred up by daring to arrest one of my clan,” Mika was now going on, his face again growing flushed.
The officer looked to him, exasperated. “Lord Savannon, I collect payments and scratch names off a list. If you have a complaint or desire to contest an arrest, you will have to do so through the proper channels. Yelling at me isn’t going to do you a lick of good, I promise you; and if you insist on keeping at it, you may have more than one complaint to make over our conduct.”
Standing behind Mika, Taleb fought off a grin at this, imagining the other man’s expression. His attention was then drawn to the archway, where Madi was emerging looking more or less as he’d left her. He breathed a sigh of relief as she gave him a nod, which he took as thanks for acting as quickly as he had.
“Sign here, miss,” the officer behind the desk now said to Madi, pushing his parchment toward her.
“She is a Lady, and you will address her as such,” Mika then spat.
“Very well, sign here, Lady Savannon. As for you,” he went on, looking back to Mika, “her fines amount to ten gold.”
Taleb winced quickly in anticipation even as Mika howled in disbelief.
“Ten gold?” he repeated savagely, pounding his fist down onto the desk. “Are you mad?”
“Ten gold or she’s headed back to her cell,” the officer replied, unruffled.
“Hold your tongue and pay him,” Madi broke in commandingly, just as Mika appeared ready to completely explode. She bent and scrawled her name where the officer indicated.
“This is outrageous!” Mika exclaimed.
Madi threw down the quill she held and turned to spear her cousin with a smoky gaze. “I am not in the mood to argue with you over this. Rest assured I will make it right with you. Also,” she went on, turning to look back at the officer, “we will be taking care of the Jennite’s fines as well. Rydin Kale was the name he gave me.”
The officer snorted. “Kale, huh? As you please, then.”
Mika’s outrage had now come full circle, back to disbelief. “Have you completely taken leave of your senses?” he yelled at her. “It is not enough for
your own actions to humiliate the family, you must add those of a scoundrel as well?”
“That scoundrel saved me from what could have been a very traumatic experience,” she snapped back at him. “I would think this would be an adequate way of showing our appreciation.”
Mika was quiet only a moment before hissing, “Don’t be so naïve, cousin! No doubt this man took one look at you, knew you for a highborn, and devised a quick scheme that would earn your favor! You are playing directly into his hands!”
“Just pay the fines!” Madi furiously threw back at him.
“For the two, that’ll be twenty-five gold,” the officer said, shuffling more papers.
“You little fool,” Mika issued under his breath, reaching to free his money pouch. “Rest assured Uncle Eward will be hearing of this.”
“Do what you must,” Madi snapped back.
In this matter, Taleb actually believed Mika had the right of it. Taking a few steps forward, he looked past the archway and found a limited view of a few of the cells beyond. The Jennite was rather easy to spot; not only was his the only foreign face to be seen, but he was also standing against the bars of his cell, looking this way. Taleb moved into his line of sight, waited until their eyes met, and then sent him a challenging look.
The Jennite smirked.
Expressionless, Taleb then let his hand drop down to his sword. He didn’t think this man would desire any further business with Madi now that he’d gotten what he’d been after, but Taleb was making it clear that he would have a fight on his hands if he tried.
The Jennite’s reply to this was a brief laugh followed by a slight inclination of his head.
Taleb turned his back and stalked away, seeing Mika now literally dragging his cousin from the jail. Hurrying to catch up, Taleb caught enough of their words to know that they were now arguing because she’d wanted to stay and bid farewell to the Jennite.
“I’m afraid I must agree with your cousin,” Taleb said, moving up next to them once outside. “It would be best to side with caution in this matter.”
Madi turned to him with a frown, then roughly pulled her arm free from Mika’s grasp. “He protected me! What is wrong with the two of you?” she demanded.
Taleb looked at her but didn’t respond.
Mika ignored her completely and faced Taleb. “I trust you will see her to wherever it is she desires to go? I’ve wasted enough of my evening already.”
“That was my charge, yes,” Taleb replied, keeping an eye on the door of the jail in case the Jennite suddenly appeared.
Mika stalked away without another word, more furious than ever.
“Do you still wish to attend Oliveah at Reif Manor, or would you prefer I escort you back to your inn?” Taleb asked, still looking about.
Madi appeared to consider the question quite seriously. Finally she gave a resigned sigh, saying, “I may as well discover what the remainder of the day has in store. Take me to Oliveah.”
Taleb was surprised, but pleased that he would have the opportunity to conclude his errand. Setting off at a brisk pace through the crowd, he figured Oliveah was likely, by this time, quite concerned over whatever was keeping them.
After a few minutes of silence, Madi began apologizing for his inconvenience and for him having to bear witness to her and her cousin’s argument. On the one hand, he was rather astounded a lady such as herself would do something so shocking as apologize to a slave. But on the other, she was Oliveah’s closest friend, and Oliveah would not tolerate a snob. Whatever the case, he’d so far found much to like in Madilaine Savannon.
Quickly, he assured her that the unexpected events of the day had caused him no grief. She then gave him an odd look, akin to the one she’d cast him just moments into their meeting in front of The Yellow Orchid. Taleb wondered if her abilities as a diviner were showing her something, and if so, what it could possibly be. Certainly his had not been an exciting life. But for his skill with a sword, his existence was—so far, at least—rather dull. Perhaps she was glimpsing his future. If so, he judged by her look that it was not to be a favorable one.
Madi was silent for the remainder of the walk to Reif Manor, and Taleb followed her lead by keeping to his own thoughts. He also kept a cautious eye out for the Jennite, but saw no sign of him.
A servant greeted them at the door and escorted them into the dining hall, where the meal was already well underway. Oliveah’s look of relief, not only at seeing Madi well, but also himself, told him much. Not enough for any conclusions to be drawn, unfortunately, but enough to at least keep his hope alive. But those answers would be coming soon enough; the end of the summer season would see his and Nathon’s decade-long term of service complete, and then many things would change.
Madi headed straight for the seat left vacant for her next to Oliveah and Reavis. Oliveah’s siblings, sixteen year-old Navalee and thirteen year-old Deakin, sat across from them. Reifs filled the remainder of the table, as well as the one placed parallel to it.
As a slave, Taleb would typically be given his meal in the kitchens, but at Oliveah’s request he and Nathon had been squeezed in at the end of the table. Lord Guerin had obliged without surprise or comment, being well aware of the unique and warm treatment the Oslunds provided their slaves. Indeed, Lord Reif was personally well acquainted with both Taleb and Nathon, as he journeyed to the Oslund vineyard several times a year to share company with Oliveah’s father.
Taleb slid into the seat left for him, across from Nathon, and met the other man’s look.
“Trouble?” Nathon asked.
Taleb shook his head. “Just a minor delay.” Given that they were surrounded by Reifs, he thought it best not to blurt out the fact of Madi’s arrest. Although, glancing down the table, he saw Lady Savannon herself gesturing emphatically as she spoke to Oliveah, apparently recounting the entire affair with complete abandon. But the Reifs were not a clan to judge or condemn; with so many of them born to Death, they typically had more pressing concerns than idle gossip.
Nathon simply nodded in reply, no doubt understanding Taleb’s concerns perfectly. The two had so much in common it almost bordered on eerie. Their paths, so similar in both timing and circumstance, had resulted in the only end possible; although not brothers by blood, they regarded each other as such in spirit. It was not difficult to understand why.
Both had been born twenty-four years ago, upon a day of War during winter, only two scant weeks apart. Both had been raised in small villages in northern Dhanen’Mar, and had lost their parents before the age of twelve; Taleb’s to fever, and Nathon’s to Jennite raiders. Orphaned, each had come to the idea of traveling to Lutarre Keep, home of the warlords, for it was widely known that acceptance of any wearing a War medallion would be found there. Neither made it so far, however, instead being caught upon the roads by Justice officers and taken to the slave markets. And it was there Lord Ean Oslund had appeared and taken them into his custody, bringing both boys back with him to his family’s prosperous vineyard. Not long after their arrival, the current master-at-arms discovered their talents for the sword. Both were put on security detail before the end of their first year of service, and, several years later, took over the master-at-arms’ duties at the time of their predecessor’s retirement. But it was here their differences finally began to emerge.
At reaching their fifteenth birthing-days, Lord Oslund had given both young men brief leave to go and pledge their Choice Patrons. Nathon had returned wearing a Secondary of Harvest, whereas Taleb had selected Destiny. Until recently, these choices had had little impact, but their importance was soon to see fruition.
Nathon was happy with his life at the Oslund vineyard, and harbored the utmost loyalty for its lord and his family. With the end of his service looming, he had recently gone to Lord Oslund, requesting to stay on in an official capacity. Lord Oslund had been more than happy to agree, offering Nathon a wage far more generous than was customary.
> Taleb also held much love and respect for Ean Oslund, but he had no intention of doing nothing more than guarding a vineyard for the rest of his life. Although he hoped he would always be welcomed there, he felt it was now time for him to move on and finally see out the aim he’d begun almost a decade ago; at the end of summer, it was his plan to again take up the journey that would lead him south to the keep of the warlords. What was to happen once he arrived he didn’t know, but the uncertainty itself was proving much of the draw. Not surprising, as he’d had so very little uncertainty in his life over these past ten years.
But he did realize what this decision might cost him.
Although never overtly spoken, both his and Nathon’s feelings for Oliveah were well-known. Just as evident were those she held for each of them. Lord Oslund, knowing his daughter well, had already anticipated that she would be making her choice once their service was over, and he’d already spoken out his blessing to both young men, claiming he would be happy to officially welcome either into his family.
He and Nathon stood upon relatively even ground, so far as Taleb could see. In addition to everything else they had in common, their appearances were quite similar as well; both stood six paces tall and were dark-haired, although where Taleb’s eyes were green, Nathon’s were blue. Their mouths and noses were nothing alike, but from behind they were often confused for one another, their physiques so similar. So far as their personalities went, Nathon was without question the more practical, Taleb the more adventurous. It would likely come down to which was more capable of offering Oliveah what she presently wanted.
At twenty-three, it was possible she wished to continue on with her troupe for a few more years and enjoy her growing renown. If so, that would give Taleb plenty of opportunity to travel to the warlord’s keep and discover whatever Destiny had in store for him, something he didn’t understand but had always felt compelled to do. This was something he felt sure Oliveah would understand, as she too had chosen Destiny as her Secondary.
However, if she had by now grown weary of her nomadic existence, or if she desired children to be in her immediate future, Nathon was by far the better choice. Officially taking up the post of master-at-arms at the Oslund vineyard, a position he was sure to carry on once Deakin inherited the estate, marrying Nathon would allow her to return home and begin a family.
Taleb felt he knew Oliveah very well, but besides the letters they exchanged regularly while she was on the road with her troupe, he had not actually be in her presence since the summer before, now an entire year. And because of that, he had very little idea of where her desires presently lay. At the conclusion of Ardin’s Pride, now only half a week distant, she would be returning home. And it was incredibly likely that she would be using that time to make whatever determinations she needed to regarding her future.
He and Nathon had already discussed the matter exhaustively and vowed that her choice, whatever the result, could not be allowed to corrupt their friendship. Taleb only hoped that this was a vow they would both be able to honor.
She’ll probably turn us both down and take up with Reavis, he thought now with great mirth, glancing down the table to where Oliveah’s singing partner was regaling many of the Reifs with what must have been an engaging and humorous tale, given their expressions. Looking back, he exchanged an amused glance with Nathon, no doubt sharing the same thought. While they had no real idea as to Reavis’s feelings for Oliveah, whether simply part of a close friendship or leaning toward something more romantic, they did know that Oliveah favored a certain type, and Reavis was not it. Neither saw any reason whatsoever to be jealous of the singer, even considering all the time Oliveah shared with him.
Taleb took a few bites of his roast duck, finding it delicious, when he suddenly noted one of the Reifs staring at him from a few seats down and across the table. The man was younger than he, perhaps twenty or twenty-one years, with a smallish build, yellow hair and dark eyes. Uncertain of what he’d done to gain this scrutiny, Taleb stared back, but then finally looked away after a long, unnerving moment. Peripherally, he could see the other man’s look remain fixed.
“Who is that?” he hissed in a low tone to Nathon, making a subtle gesture.
Nathon glanced over, and then turned back, grinning. “His name is Sabian,” he replied quietly. “It is said he’s cursed by the sights and sounds of the dead.”
Taleb’s eyebrows flickered in brief interest. No doubt this Sabian was one of the Reifs unfortunate enough to have been born to Death—as this was an ability unlikely to be granted by any other Patron.
“I do not envy him,” he said, now more curious than ever as to why he’d gained this man’s interest. Was Sabian perhaps seeing his parents, dead now thirteen years? Or hearing them? The possibility left Taleb feeling decidedly uncomfortable.
Turning back to his meal, he decided not to dwell on the matter, intending to avoid any further acknowledgment of Sabian Reif for the remainder of the evening. He nearly managed this successfully, only once more looking in the man’s direction when he appeared to have a short—and judging by her expression, confusing—conversation with Madilaine Savannon.
Whatever a diviner and a seer of ghosts could possibly have to discuss Taleb didn’t even want to speculate. Particularly as they’d both turned to consider him as they’d done so.
Chapter 8