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Burning Bright 15, 16
And all the little pieces begin to come together. Only two weeks left ^_~
Chapter Fifteen
“Fire and ash,” Luka said over his tankard with a smirk “They’ll let just about anything into respectable places these days.”
Ivan rolled his eyes as he shoved Luka’s feet from the table and snagged a chair from an empty table. “By ‘lay low’ I didn’t mean seat yourself at the first tavern and drink yourselves into a stupor.”
“Ale’s too watered down for a stupor. We’re just sorta mellow. Hey, Ai. Thanks for keeping the boss man alive.” Luka’s levity and the chuckles of the rest of the men died as they counted heads and realized there was one missing. “Boss?” he asked.
“Pechal is dead,” Raz answered before anyone else could, voice strained but more stable than it had been before. “We were too late.”
Maksim stood up and stole more chairs, glaring down those who tried to protest, and urged the others to sit. Beside him the much smaller Gleb rose to get more ale. “He’ll get the good stuff.”
“Getting drunk is not the solution,” Shinju said as she sat down next to Isidor and snagged a piece of roasted fish from his plate.
Karp chuckled from across the table, most of his face hidden by floppy brown bangs and his tankard. “Good start though, lass.”
“I’ve got years on you,” Shinju said tartly. “Do not call me lass.”
Ivan snickered. “Surely you don’t expect us to call you Lady.”
Shio rolled her eyes. “Children.”
Raz smiled faintly but otherwise didn’t react to the noise surrounding him, sipping slowly at the ale – nice and strong, not watered down a bit – set in front of him. He didn’t notice the lull that fell, the voices that turned hushed as Ivan’s group was updated on all that had happened. He stared at the table, seeing only his encounter in the Royal Cathedral.
Those eyes. More than anything those eyes drew him. Greener than the finest esmeralda he’d ever stolen – and he’d stolen several in his career. Those eyes haunted him, warring with the ache of not being able to turn and just look at Pechal, knowing the man would draw a smile out of him.
“So what are we going to do now, boss?” Luka asked.
“Stay low for a little while longer. Zholty would love to separate our heads from our shoulders and I’d much rather he not. Then…” Ivan frowned. “I don’t know.” He shifted in his seat to look at Ailill. “What are your plans? I know you can’t stay here.”
“I wish I could,” Ailill said with a grimace. “Unfortunately, duty is a hard mistress. The comb Raz stole for me is only one of five pieces. I have located three, two still elude me. I believe one has made its way to Kundou, so that is where I’m headed next. After that…” Ailill shrugged.
Gleb leaned forward, arms folded across the back of the chair he was sitting backwards in. “What’s a nobleman doing hunting for jewelry all over the world? Poor way to make a profit, you ask me.”
Ailill laughed. “A very poor way, I assure you. It’s a mission I’m not at liberty to relate, at least not yet. I…if you’re amenable, I could use some assistance – and the company. If you’ve no particular reason to linger in Pozhar for a few years…” He looked at Ivan. “Though I realize it’s not fair of me to ask. I am selfish.”
Maksim laughed, his entire body shaking with it. “We won’t be worth much as mercs without our reputation, but I can’t see the boss telling you no.”
“I wouldn’t force my men to follow me just—“ Ivan cut himself off, looking abruptly away.
“Just because you’re taken with your pretty cat?” Karp finished for him, grinning as Ivan glared at him.
Luka rolled his eyes. “You said it yourself, boss, Zholty is probably out for our blood. We’re not safe here and…” he looked briefly at Raz, who sat quietly, watching them but not really paying attention. “We could all use a break, yeah? Not just hiding out at the end of the world waiting for things to cool down. Unless you think we’d get in your way, I’m all for seeing the land these beauties come from.” He pointed a thumb at Shio and Shinju. “Though maybe we can find some nicer ones.”
“Are nice, soft women all that you’re up to handling then?” Shio asked tauntingly, leaning forward over the table, hair falling over her shoulders. “Pretty little ladies all you can take?”
Setting down his ale, Luka leaned forward and smirked. “I can take whatever you can give, sweetheart.”
Shio sat back, chuckling. “We shall see, perhaps.”
Luka grinned and went back to his ale. “I won’t let you forget.”
“I won’t forget.”
Raz almost smiled, watching the byplay. “You should be flattered, Luka.”
“Oh, I’m definitely flattered.”
Shinju rolled her eyes and looked at Raz. “Hungry, Raz? Want something to eat?”
Raz shrugged and sipped his ale. All the talk of Ivan and his band leaving the country brought his own troubles to the fore. He wasn’t certain he had the heart to steal anymore. Not without Pechal. Shio and Shinju were great but they weren’t Pechal. Without his friend, his brother, he didn’t want to do it anymore.
Ivan seemed to sense his thoughts. “You should come with us when we leave, Raz. We could use a thief of your skill.”
“Maybe,” Raz said, and part of him badly wanted to go, leave it all behind, forget the way he hadn’t been able to save the one person he cared about more than anything else in the world. How he’d let Pechal get taken, let him burn. His eyes began to burn and Raz chugged the last of his ale, hoping to banish the tears he’d thought had finally dried up.
Part of his wanted to run away, but most of him wanted to stay. Most of him recoiled at the thought of ever leaving Pozhar. Even with the shadow that loomed over it because of the sacrifices, the several hundred who had had died simply because they’d dared to be born with a piece of a god no one actually remembered, he didn’t want to leave. Pozhar was home. He and Pechal loved it, had traveled miles of it while building their reputation or running from the authorities.
He couldn’t leave. Wouldn’t leave.
And there were still those green eyes to figure out. The ache in his chest that flared up every time he thought of the High Priest. A mystery he wanted to solve. So many things he wanted to say…yet he wasn’t sure what those things were.
“Raz?” Shio asked, and set the bowl of stew she’d had brought in front of him. “Are you all right?”
“I’m not leaving,” Raz said. “I can’t.”
Ivan frowned. “Raz…staying in Pozhar will just cause you more pain. Don’t you think you should get away for at least a bit?”
“Why do you suddenly care?” Raz asked, then immediately regretted the words. “Sorry,” he muttered to his ale. “I don’t think I’m myself anymore.”
“I’d imagine not,” Ivan said calmly. Raz didn’t see the glance he exchanged with the others at the table. “Don’t discount the idea of leaving entirely, Raz. Think about it, yeah?”
Raz nodded, but his mind was already made up. He’d wait until the others left, a thought that was surprisingly painful, and then go back to the palace. Finally figure out why the High Priest haunted him, why every thought of the man made him feel like he was being torn apart. He stared at his stew a moment, then lifted his spoon and began slowly to eat. “So what do we do until it’s time for you to leave?” he asked. “I’m not going to make much of a living if I have to lay low for weeks on end. Some of us don’t have fancy foreign lovers to lean on.”
“I’d say he’s still himself,” Maksim said, roaring with laughter. “So what does that make us, as we’re the men leaning on the man with the rich, pretty lover?”
“Children or servants,” Raz answered with a grin.
“Children,” Ivan said, cuffing a laughing Luka upside the head. “Definitely children. Who need to finish their ale and go to bed or something, before I beat you senseless.”
“Aw, dad,” Isidor and Ferapont chorused together, “can’t we stay up with you and mom?”
Ivan glared.
His men scrambled, chugging back their ales and rapidly finding somewhere else to be. Ivan chuckled.
“They are fond of you,” Ailill said with a laugh of his own. “I’ve never encountered a band quite like yours. Generally it is only money that keeps such men together.”
Ivan snorted. “Yeah, I started in a group like that. When the rest of them were hauled off to appointments with the chopping block, I took command of the six left. We tried not to repeat the mistakes of our predecessors. Discipline might be lacking, but we have each other’s backs.”
Ailill smiled, and the expression coaxed a return smile from Ivan.
Watching them hurt. Raz looked away, staring into the fire. After a moment, he stood up, shaking his head when the twins moved to follow, and left the inn to go for a walk, letting his feet wander at will. Eventually he wound up in the center of town, and leaned against the well, looking around at the lit houses, the shadows moving around inside.
Something in him warmed at the sight, something else still felt cold.
Perhaps because I failed.
What did that mean, exactly? Failed at what? The High Priest hadn’t seemed the type to fail at anything. If he’d been chosen as High Priest, obviously failure wasn’t something he faced very often.
Raz slid down to sit on the ground and curled up into himself, blocking out the worst of the evening chill. To judge by it, they were probably in for a long, bitter winter. He and Pechal should probably stay—
Pain sliced through him, and Raz shuddered as he fought sobs. Scorching idiot. Pechal was dead. Ivan and the others were planning to leave. There was no guarantee Shio and Shinju would stay around forever. Maybe he should leave, start a new life somewhere, a place that wouldn’t constantly dredge up now-painful memories.
And where he wouldn’t be constantly chased by the memory of pain-dark green eyes. Fire and ash, he was tired of those green eyes!
Looking at you pains me.
Raz tilted his head back and stared up at the stars, recalling all the nights he and Pechal had spent just watching them, a fire burning nearby to ward off any animals, jewels and coin burning holes in their packs, the excitement of a job well done making sleep impossible. Pechal had used to wonder what stars were. Raz had never cared. He wondered if Pechal could still see the stars.
Come winter, stars would be a rare sight. Clouds never left the sky when the cold descended. Usually he and Pechal found a large town and holed up for the winter, doing small, easy jobs to keep their funds up but mostly using the snow as an excuse to take a break, have fun. Raz wasn’t sure what he’d do now. He had Shinju and Shio, but it wasn’t the same. He was alone now. He didn’t want to be alone.
Get out. Looking at you pains me.
Biting back a scream of frustration, Raz climbed to his feet and stomped his way back to the in, footsteps softening only as he slipped inside. The tavern was silent now, everyone having gone off to bed. Which reminded him he didn’t know where his room was.
“Raz,” Shio said softly, and Raz looked up to see her sitting halfway up the stairs. “We were starting to worry.” Now Raz could see Shinju sitting all the way at the top of the stairs. “Come on, you look like you could use some rest.”
Raz nodded and allowed them to carry him off, sitting meekly as they wrestled his boots off, feeling much like a child who had misbehaved, and settled into a bed which smelled of rough soap and sweat, but otherwise clean. He was surprised at how exhausted he suddenly felt, and could feel himself dropping away, smiling faintly at the touch of soft lips to his cheek before sleep took him completely.
“So how many more days of this, boss?” Karp asked, making a face at his ale. “I’m all for the getting drunk night after night, but we could use work or a change of scenery. Money isn’t hurting a bit, but I don’t like this being idle.”
Ivan grunted. “I know. But let’s not forget we’ve managed to scorch an Earl. I don’t think he’s the type of man to just forget something like that.”
Isidor made vague, impatient motions in the air. “Yeah, but he must think you’re dead by now, boss. Didn’t he say there was no way anyone could break the curse? So you’re worrying over nothing.”
“A bad feeling is a bad feeling,” Ivan said with finality.
“Yes, boss,” his men chorused, and Maksim signaled for another round of ale.
“So, Raz,” Luka said, “tell us what your hard—“ His words were cut off by the slamming of the front door against the wall, and the entire tavern fell into a dead silence as a dozen men spilled inside, crowding the already packed room.
“Fire and ash,” Ivan swore.
Raz silently agreed. The men all wore the red and black uniforms of the royal army, and he didn’t like the look of the papers clutched by the leader – to judge from the tassels, he was holding warrants. The man’s eyes searched the room, and landed heavily on their table, eyes looking at each of them in turn.
“Clear out,” the leader, a Sergeant, barked. “Everyone has two minutes to get out of here or you will face arrest right alongside the criminals.” He strode over to their table, the click of his boots against the wooden floor loud even amongst the scrambling of people desperate to get away. He slammed his hand down on the table, shaking the tankards and plates of food. “Except you lot. One of you moves and your flesh will taste steel.”
Ivan eyed the Sergeant, unmoved. “We’re just sitting here drinking. Is that a crime now?”
“You’re all under arrest for the illegal use of magic, breaking and entering, and attacking a noble without provocation.”
Karp snorted. “Oh, there’s always provocation. Breathing, for instance.” He ducked as a soldier tried to punch him, catching the man’s wrist and shoving him back. “Don’t touch me, you scorching redcoat.”
“What proof do you have we’ve done anything?” Ivan pressed, shooting Karp a warning look.
“That is not my concern,” the Sergeant replied. “By order of his Lordship the Earl Vladimir Zholty, Advisor of Magic, you are all under arrest. Anyone who attempts to resist will be dealt with accordingly.”
Ivan snorted. “Attempt to resist? Don’t be stupid. We’re not going to attempt anything. We fully intend to succeed.” Even as he finished speaking Ivan was moving, throwing his ale into the face of the Sergeant, swinging around to smash the empty tankard into the face of the soldier behind him, hearing as the man’s nose was crushed, then slammed it down on his head. Dropping the ruined tankard, he drew his sword and went for the next soldier as everyone exploded into action.
Tables and chairs were scattered, broken, glass and ale going everywhere as the soldiers and mercenaries fought. Raz dodged a sword thrust and grabbed a chair, swinging around and slamming it into the side of the soldier nearest him, then stumbled backwards, away from another sword.
He looked frantically around, wondering at why there seemed to be a lot more than the initial dozen soldiers now, finally catching sight of Shio and Shinju, dismayed to see that they were barely managing to keep ahead of their assailants. He cried out as a hand grabbed him, threw him into a wall. Groaning, Raz struggled to his feet just in time to avoid the sword thrust aimed at his gut. “Don’t touch me!” he roared as the soldier again lunged. Raz ducked, then surged forward and shoved the soldier back, eyes widening in horror as he screamed in pain and collapsed.
“Magic user! Kill him!” The Sergeant bellowed, and Raz’s head jerked up. He stared in dismay as a group of soldiers gave up on the mercs and came toward him. Raz stared. Why?
“Kill that one,” the Sergeant repeated. “And the Highlander. Capture the rest.”
“No!” Raz could Ivan’s snarl over the cacophony of the fight, and he was so busy watching how efficiently and ruthlessly Ivan cut through the soldiers to reach him – not Ailill, who was doing fine on his own – that he barely avoided the soldier that had snuck up behind him.
Ivan stabbed the soldier in question, then dragged Raz close. “We’ll get out of this. Stay close, I doubt you’re used to this level of fighting, street kid or no.”
“No,” Raz said. “Nothing like this. Why—“ His words were cut off by screams of pain, and Raz watched dumbfounded as everyone but Ivan and Ailill dropped to the ground, unconscious. And Ivan, taken by surprise, froze a moment too long, and Raz could only cry out as a soldier came up from behind and clubbed him upside the head. “What?”
“Not used to magic,” the Sergeant said shortly. “Kill that one!” he snapped, and Raz watched in horror as all the remaining soldiers went for Ailill, watching as the man fought them off, paling as they swarmed him. Then he had no more time to watch, realizing too late that he’d let his guard down. The Sergeant was choking him, the leather of his gloves hot, sticking to his skin, grip hard enough there would be bruises if he lived. Whatever he’d done to the other man didn’t seem to be working now.
“Let me go,” Raz said.
“You reek of magic, boy, and I don’t have the time or patience to burn it out. Killing you will suffice,” the Sergeant replied.
“What?” Raz choked the word out, then felt nothing but white hot pain. “Why?”
“I do as the Earl commands,” the Sergeant answered. “For the sake of Pozhar, and in the Queen’s name.” He let Raz go and let him drop to the floor, then spun sharply around and started barking orders. “Kill the Highlander. You men, get the rest of these vagabonds out of here. Chain them, make sure they can’t get free.”
Raz fought to stay conscious, but his eyes were so heavy…he heard a scream of pain, and thought it sounded like Ailill…then nothing.
Chapter Sixteen
Raz woke with a groan that turned into a hiss of pain as he clutched his stomach, and fell back on the bed.
Bed.
Awake.
What?
Raz tried sitting up again, groaning but enduring the pain, and forced his eyes to focus.
He was in what looked like an inn room…one that his practiced eye immediately noted was far more than he could afford, especially as he was relatively certain he should be dead. The room was simple, but the furniture was well-crafted, details and carvings in the wood that no peasant or simple traveler’s inn could afford to buy or make. He could tell the sheets were linen, not rough, homespun cotton, and there was more good linen for curtains. A glass lamp was on one table, another on the small bedside table. Rugs on the floor, which were themselves made of smooth, polished wood. Not the place he thought he’d died, definitely. Where was he? How did he get here?
“You’re finally awake,” a cool voice said.
Raz snapped his head around. Stared.
Every last bit of the man screamed nobility. Even sitting down he was tall, making the chair look too small. He was dressed severely in black jacket and breeches, boots polished to a mirror shine. His hair was dark red, brushed neatly back away from his severe-looking face. The eyes so coolly watching Raz were a dark, rich amber, with all the sharpness of a hawk examining its prey.
“Who are you?” Raz asked, licking his lips, swallowing to ease his dry throat. “What’s going on?”
The man motioned to a glass and pitcher of water on the table, and Raz slowly helped himself, spilling only some of the water as he poured it out. He lifted the glass and drank half of it in one gulp, then forced himself to sip the rest. “I did not think I would get here in time. That stupid Earl always manages to get one step ahead of me, the bastard. If I had arrived any later, you and the Beast would both be dead. And what a Beast is doing here, obviously in secret, I would dearly love to know.”
“Beast?” Raz asked. “Ailill? Where is he? He’s all right?”
“Over there,” the man said, gesturing past Raz’s shoulder.
Ignoring the throbbing pain in his gut, Raz turned and saw that Ailill was slowly sitting up, holding his head. Ailill looked about how Raz felt, pale hair disheveled and tangled, face tight with weariness even though they must have been sleeping hard for a day at least, pale eyes hard as they lighted on their rescuer. “You’re all right!” He turned back to the stranger. “Where are the others?”
“Long gone,” the man said shortly, “and not my concern. You are my concern.”
“Who are you?” Raz asked. “You still haven’t told me that – or what’s going on here.”
“You are…” Ailil’s voice held a cautious tone to it, “Duke Krasny, if memory serves. We met once, briefly.”
“Nikolai will suffice for the time being,” Nikolai said. He sat back in the faded blue armchair he had claimed, arms folded idly across his chest. “You are a Beast of the Faerie Queen. Your friend here called you Ailill—“
Raz flushed and ducked his head. “Sorry.”
“Which means you must be the Marquis Ailill le Blanc, the White Panther. I vaguely recall our encounter.”
Ailill inclined his head. “I prefer Ailill.”
“The only name we’re missing is yours, then,” Nikolai said, looking at Raz.
“Raz.” He looked between them. "No Duke or anything."
“That makes you the lucky one,” Ailill said, rising from his own bed and settling down next to Raz, resting a hand briefly on his shoulder. His expression hardened as he looked at Nikolai. “Stop playing games.”
Nikolai snorted. “I am not the one playing games – or at least, I did not start this one. Subtlety is not one of my strong suits.” He fell silent a moment, as if lost to some memory. “Zholty started this game,” he said finally. “I am merely trying to end it. In a matter of days I will do so.”
“Stop him from doing what?” Ailill asked. “You are remarkably good at not explaining.”
“You are remarkably rude. I could have left you to die.”
Ailill shrugged. “You didn’t. That was your decision.”
Nikolai grimaced. “Zholty and I have no love for the current arrangement of things in the palace. I chose one route to change things, he chose another. I chased after him thinking he was trying to kill the last Candidate before the High Priest could…it would seem, however, that Zholty is merely settling a personal vendetta.” His eyes gleamed with smug satisfaction as he eyed Raz. “Which means I am once again ahead of the game.”
“How so?” Ailill asked slowly. “What have we to do with any of this? I would think leaving us to die would have proven more useful. No one knows I’m here.”
“Do not insult my intelligence. As if the Queen wouldn’t know if one of her precious Beast’s were slain,” Nikolai said, brushing the words aside impatiently. “It would not have taken her long to find out where you were when you died, especially as the villagers here would be sure to talk about how they buried a giant white cat.”
Ailill nodded. “As you say. Why your interest in Raz, then?”
“That is not information I am willing to divulge quite yet.”
Raz frowned. “Then why should I scorching cooperate with you? Because that’s obviously what you’re expecting. Nobles don’t trek halfway across the country to save riff raff for no reason.”
“And they say you street urchins have no brains,” Nikolai replied. “If you don’t cooperate, your friends are going to die. I need you to help me stop that fool Zholty once and for all.” His dark eyes flicked to Ailill. “Any testimony you can offer would be appreciated.”
“My word alone is enough to stop whatever Zholty is planning,” Ailill said.
“Hardly,” Nikolai said. “You can stop whatever he is doing with his prisoners, certainly, but that is just a little side venture for our good Earl. His ultimate goal is something quite different, and that can only be stopped by our young friend here.”
Raz recoiled. “I’m no friend of yours. I’m no one. How can I stop an Earl?”
“Why, by getting to the High Priest before Zholty gets to you. As I said, I was vastly amused upon my arrival to learn that he was settling a personal vendetta, and not chasing after you as I thought. No wonder he learned your location so quickly…he didn’t even know.” Nikolai threw his head back and laughed. “Ah, it is good to finally be a step ahead of that bastard.”
Raz felt a sudden chill. “Why would the Earl be chasing after me?”
“Judging from the sudden pallor of your face, I would hazard to say you have already figured out the answer.”
Raz nodded, gaze dropping to the floor, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m the last Candidate.”
Nikolai dipped his head and shoulders in a graceful half bow. “You’re the last Candidate.”
Ailill hissed. “That can’t be. Pechal…what are the chances of two Candidates being such close friends?”
“Ask the High Priest,” Nikolai said. “I know only what I see in his drawings, and his latest – yet to be publicly released due to mourning for the late King – is most certainly of our young friend here.” He shifted his attention to Raz. “If you do not come with me, I promise the Earl will spare no expense or torture to see that you are found and killed before the High Priest can do the deed. Should he ever learn those prisoners were companions of yours, he will use them to get to you. Certainly you can run and hide, if you like; no one would blame you – though I promise that even with the Beast getting away from me will not be an easy task. But if you do run, your friends will most certainly die, and many more will suffer attempting to hunt you down.”
Raz didn’t lift his gaze from the floor. He wasn’t sure he could move. His body felt stiff. Frozen. Was this how Pechal had felt when he’d first learned he was the Candidate? No wonder he’d been so panicked that first night. Raz wondered if he’d offered any comfort to his friend. He wished he had Pechal now.
He could run. Ailill would help him, and he suspected Ailill could also rescue Ivan and the others with very little problem.
The last Candidate. Raz fisted his hands to still their trembling. Why hadn’t learning that surprised him? Fire and ash he’d just wanted to be a thief. Steal and run and play until they were finally caught.
At least this way Pechal wouldn’t be alone. Maybe he could finally figure out why the High Priest haunted him. “All right,” Raz said finally. “What do you want from me?”
“Raz!” Ailill protested. “You don’t have to do this.”
Raz smiled faintly, sadly. “I want to. And I’ll be saving my country, right? A heroic thief…” He shook his head when Ailill tried to protest further. “Look at what happened when Pechal tried to escape. Those men took him, he wound up killing them, and Ivan’s men were nearly killed trying to protect him. I don’t want that. No one should die because of me.”
Pain sliced through him as his own words, so deep Raz gasped with it.
I’m so sorry…
I don’t deserve…
Can you ever forgive me?
“Those men he killed were mine, ironically enough, and I’d sent them to take the last Candidate from Zholty’s men.” Nikolai stood up, brushing imaginary dust from his coat and pants. “Rest for the evening. Come morning we must move out. Zholty’s men have a three day start on us and we’ll have to move quickly if we’re to reach the palace as they do.” Bowing his head and shoulders, Nikolai then turned and left, and the locking of the door had a finality to it.
Ailill reached out and tugged Raz close, embracing him. “Raz. Are you certain? We could get away, and rescue them ourselves. There’s no reason to do this.”
“I have my reasons.” Jewel green eyes and an ache in his chest that wouldn’t ease. He laughed, the sound weak, unsteady. “It sort of feels like I knew it all along. Does that make any sense?”
“It does,” Ailill said quietly. “In Verde, we do not change until we begin to enter adulthood and until we change there is no guarantee of what our Form will be – though of course children tend to take after their parents. My mother was an owl, my father a hawk…yet I knew, deep inside, that when I changed I would be neither. I was not surprised to find I was a White Panther.”
Raz nodded. “Why is that so special?”
“Verde was once ruled by three gods – the Faerie Queen and the Guardians. But she is also protected and served by twelve White Beasts. We are…what our Queen has in lieu of priests and such. Our magic is the most powerful in the country, our Forms stronger than all the rests…we live to serve our Queen.” Ailill sighed. “We also die for her, whenever the tragedy begins to play itself out again. But there is enough gloom in this room, my friend, do not make me drag out my own woes.”
“Ivan’s going to have a fit that you’re a Marquis.”
Ailill chuckled. “I can assure you I was more upset about the situation than anyone. I liked my parents’ little mountain cabin, and I was sorely disappointed when I knew I was a cat and not a bird. No feathers for me, alas,” Ailill shrugged.
“Cat seems pretty scorching to me,” Raz said with a grin.
“It could certainly be worse,” Ailill agreed.
They lapsed into silence. Raz let his mind wander, but forcefully yanked his thoughts away when they tried to dwell on what was in his near future. He played back over the fight, all that had happened. “How did they get the better of you?”
Ailill winced. “A good question. My magic did not work quite as well as it should have, and I was reluctant to use my Form in such close quarters. Ultimately, I was sloppy. I will not underestimate them again.” He sighed. “I hope Ivan and the others are still alive. The Duke’s words do not fill me with confidence.” Standing, he gripped Raz’s shoulder in a comforting gesture before moving back to his own bed. “We should get some rest. Tomorrow, I feel, is going to be very long.”
“Long and unbearable,” Raz agreed and lay back down, not realizing until then how tired he still was. He buried his head in his pillow, dreading the dreams that would plague him, but within seconds he was asleep, and slept too deeply to dream.
“I hate horses,” Raz complained. “Why can’t we walk?”
Nikolai ignored him.
Ailill smiled briefly, but his amusement faded as he turned to Nikolai. “So why are you here? Why not send more men?”
“Because the last men I sent were killed – quite brutally, or so I read in the High Priest’s reports. I did not feel like losing more men.”
“Surely your absence will have been noted.”
Nikolai shrugged. “Doubtless. My return will also be noted, however, and quite overshadow my disappearance. And wondering where I have gone will keep Zholty too busy to hunt properly for the Candidate himself.” He smiled coldly. “The bastard should not have tried to outsmart me.”
Raz rolled his eyes and cast his attention elsewhere. He rode a black mare, a horse he knew probably cost as much as some of the items he’d stolen. She was sweet, gentle for a horse, and did not show any sign that the hours of traveling bothered her.
They definitely bothered Raz, though most of that was probably because he was trying to avoid thinking about what would happen when they reached their destination.
Will you come back?
Why should I?
I hope you change your mind.
Raz sighed, tired of his own head. Why did he keep dwelling on a man he knew nothing about?
He stilled. Perhaps he didn’t know anything. He turned to Nikolai. “What’s the High Priest like?”
Nikolai looked at him, annoyed and impatient. “Why do you ask?”
“It would be nice to know the man who’s going to sacrifice me isn’t a scorching bastard.”
“He’s arrogant, insufferable, and far too quiet for my liking. Nor do I like the way he affects my cousin. Once his job is done, I plan to have that man uprooted from the palace and buried deep in the countryside.”
Raz frowned. Arrogant? Insufferable? Quiet – that he could see. The High Priest he’d seen for those few, brief minutes had never seemed to be someone given to a great deal of talking. But arrogant and insufferable? No…those words didn’t suit. “He always seemed sad to me.”
“I’m certain he does his best to appear so,” Nikolai replied. “Everyone in Pozhar has a hand in the murdering of a god, but it’s his hands which are bloodiest right now.”
“Yet without the High Priest,” Ailill said, “you would have a hard time destroying the pieces. Or am I mistaken in thinking the task of burning the pieces is a difficult one?”
“It takes years of training, or so I am told. The details do not matter to me.” Nikolai shifted impatiently in his saddle. “My duty is to advise her Majesty and serve Pozhar. I will do whatever is necessary to do my duty, including rescuing riff raff and escorting it across the country.”
Ailill lifted a brow. “It would seem to me that Raz is a trifle more than ‘riff raff,’ my good Duke.”
Nikolai shrugged. “Being a Candidate does not change his station.”
“Station is not necessarily indicative of how much respect one is due,” Ailill said sharply. “I think you and the good Earl are proof of that. Certainly I have all the respect in the world for Raz and none for you.”
“I do not want to hear such words coming from a man whose country squabbles over whether or not a lion should have to obey a pig, or a snake follow a mouse,” Nikolai replied with a sneer. “Honestly, even when you’re human it’s patently obvious you’ve an animal side.”
Ailill’s hands tightened on his reins, his horse fretting for a moment before Ailill calmed him. “At least Verde is not a country full of murders.”
Nikolai sniffed. “No, it is merely your Queen who is bloodthirsty.”
“I will not tolerate such words from you!” Ailill snarled, moving very much like a cat as he grabbed Nikolai by the throat. “Your hands are as bloody as the High Priest’s, you pompous little prick. Do not think because I go along with this scheme of yours that I won’t hesitate to show you how much of a Beast I can be. Verde works to save their Goddess; we are not murders like you Firelanders.”
“Unhand me,” Nikolai said coldly, “or I will show you how fire feathers are properly used. I promise I am easily a match for your Highland magic.”
Ailill ignored him. “I doubt it, Duke.”
“Try me,” Nikolai replied, eyes flashing. “Only one man ever got the better of me, and I doubt you have the nasty little trick he used.”
“I have nasty tricks of my own,” Ailill said, eyes just as hard.
“That’s enough!” Raz snapped. “Is that all you nobles do? Fight? Kill? Even Ivan’s never gone so low as to commit murder, and when he picks a fight he’s smart enough to charge someone for putting him to so much trouble! Why does anyone need him or I when you’re obviously willing to do all the dirty work yourself? Fire and ash, I can’t think why any god would want to be anything but dead, to be surrounded by people who only want to fight and kill.”
Ailill and Nikolai fell silent. Raz shifted uncomfortably on his horse, ducking his head and hunching his shoulders as the silence grew heavy.
“The Sacred Firebird was killed because of his arrogance,” Nikolai said slowly, breaking the silence. “They said he was cold and contemptuous, and had no love for his people.”
Raz shrugged irritably, feeling hot and awkward, and wishing very much to be anywhere else. “When we reach the palace, I have to die because people decided a god was arrogant. Pechal had to die because more people decided to make certain that god stayed dead. I don’t want to spend my last few days listening to the two of you threatening to kill each other, and I definitely don’t want to see you try to kill each other.”
Silence fell again as he finished speaking, and this time no one broke it.
Chapter Fifteen
“Fire and ash,” Luka said over his tankard with a smirk “They’ll let just about anything into respectable places these days.”
Ivan rolled his eyes as he shoved Luka’s feet from the table and snagged a chair from an empty table. “By ‘lay low’ I didn’t mean seat yourself at the first tavern and drink yourselves into a stupor.”
“Ale’s too watered down for a stupor. We’re just sorta mellow. Hey, Ai. Thanks for keeping the boss man alive.” Luka’s levity and the chuckles of the rest of the men died as they counted heads and realized there was one missing. “Boss?” he asked.
“Pechal is dead,” Raz answered before anyone else could, voice strained but more stable than it had been before. “We were too late.”
Maksim stood up and stole more chairs, glaring down those who tried to protest, and urged the others to sit. Beside him the much smaller Gleb rose to get more ale. “He’ll get the good stuff.”
“Getting drunk is not the solution,” Shinju said as she sat down next to Isidor and snagged a piece of roasted fish from his plate.
Karp chuckled from across the table, most of his face hidden by floppy brown bangs and his tankard. “Good start though, lass.”
“I’ve got years on you,” Shinju said tartly. “Do not call me lass.”
Ivan snickered. “Surely you don’t expect us to call you Lady.”
Shio rolled her eyes. “Children.”
Raz smiled faintly but otherwise didn’t react to the noise surrounding him, sipping slowly at the ale – nice and strong, not watered down a bit – set in front of him. He didn’t notice the lull that fell, the voices that turned hushed as Ivan’s group was updated on all that had happened. He stared at the table, seeing only his encounter in the Royal Cathedral.
Those eyes. More than anything those eyes drew him. Greener than the finest esmeralda he’d ever stolen – and he’d stolen several in his career. Those eyes haunted him, warring with the ache of not being able to turn and just look at Pechal, knowing the man would draw a smile out of him.
“So what are we going to do now, boss?” Luka asked.
“Stay low for a little while longer. Zholty would love to separate our heads from our shoulders and I’d much rather he not. Then…” Ivan frowned. “I don’t know.” He shifted in his seat to look at Ailill. “What are your plans? I know you can’t stay here.”
“I wish I could,” Ailill said with a grimace. “Unfortunately, duty is a hard mistress. The comb Raz stole for me is only one of five pieces. I have located three, two still elude me. I believe one has made its way to Kundou, so that is where I’m headed next. After that…” Ailill shrugged.
Gleb leaned forward, arms folded across the back of the chair he was sitting backwards in. “What’s a nobleman doing hunting for jewelry all over the world? Poor way to make a profit, you ask me.”
Ailill laughed. “A very poor way, I assure you. It’s a mission I’m not at liberty to relate, at least not yet. I…if you’re amenable, I could use some assistance – and the company. If you’ve no particular reason to linger in Pozhar for a few years…” He looked at Ivan. “Though I realize it’s not fair of me to ask. I am selfish.”
Maksim laughed, his entire body shaking with it. “We won’t be worth much as mercs without our reputation, but I can’t see the boss telling you no.”
“I wouldn’t force my men to follow me just—“ Ivan cut himself off, looking abruptly away.
“Just because you’re taken with your pretty cat?” Karp finished for him, grinning as Ivan glared at him.
Luka rolled his eyes. “You said it yourself, boss, Zholty is probably out for our blood. We’re not safe here and…” he looked briefly at Raz, who sat quietly, watching them but not really paying attention. “We could all use a break, yeah? Not just hiding out at the end of the world waiting for things to cool down. Unless you think we’d get in your way, I’m all for seeing the land these beauties come from.” He pointed a thumb at Shio and Shinju. “Though maybe we can find some nicer ones.”
“Are nice, soft women all that you’re up to handling then?” Shio asked tauntingly, leaning forward over the table, hair falling over her shoulders. “Pretty little ladies all you can take?”
Setting down his ale, Luka leaned forward and smirked. “I can take whatever you can give, sweetheart.”
Shio sat back, chuckling. “We shall see, perhaps.”
Luka grinned and went back to his ale. “I won’t let you forget.”
“I won’t forget.”
Raz almost smiled, watching the byplay. “You should be flattered, Luka.”
“Oh, I’m definitely flattered.”
Shinju rolled her eyes and looked at Raz. “Hungry, Raz? Want something to eat?”
Raz shrugged and sipped his ale. All the talk of Ivan and his band leaving the country brought his own troubles to the fore. He wasn’t certain he had the heart to steal anymore. Not without Pechal. Shio and Shinju were great but they weren’t Pechal. Without his friend, his brother, he didn’t want to do it anymore.
Ivan seemed to sense his thoughts. “You should come with us when we leave, Raz. We could use a thief of your skill.”
“Maybe,” Raz said, and part of him badly wanted to go, leave it all behind, forget the way he hadn’t been able to save the one person he cared about more than anything else in the world. How he’d let Pechal get taken, let him burn. His eyes began to burn and Raz chugged the last of his ale, hoping to banish the tears he’d thought had finally dried up.
Part of his wanted to run away, but most of him wanted to stay. Most of him recoiled at the thought of ever leaving Pozhar. Even with the shadow that loomed over it because of the sacrifices, the several hundred who had had died simply because they’d dared to be born with a piece of a god no one actually remembered, he didn’t want to leave. Pozhar was home. He and Pechal loved it, had traveled miles of it while building their reputation or running from the authorities.
He couldn’t leave. Wouldn’t leave.
And there were still those green eyes to figure out. The ache in his chest that flared up every time he thought of the High Priest. A mystery he wanted to solve. So many things he wanted to say…yet he wasn’t sure what those things were.
“Raz?” Shio asked, and set the bowl of stew she’d had brought in front of him. “Are you all right?”
“I’m not leaving,” Raz said. “I can’t.”
Ivan frowned. “Raz…staying in Pozhar will just cause you more pain. Don’t you think you should get away for at least a bit?”
“Why do you suddenly care?” Raz asked, then immediately regretted the words. “Sorry,” he muttered to his ale. “I don’t think I’m myself anymore.”
“I’d imagine not,” Ivan said calmly. Raz didn’t see the glance he exchanged with the others at the table. “Don’t discount the idea of leaving entirely, Raz. Think about it, yeah?”
Raz nodded, but his mind was already made up. He’d wait until the others left, a thought that was surprisingly painful, and then go back to the palace. Finally figure out why the High Priest haunted him, why every thought of the man made him feel like he was being torn apart. He stared at his stew a moment, then lifted his spoon and began slowly to eat. “So what do we do until it’s time for you to leave?” he asked. “I’m not going to make much of a living if I have to lay low for weeks on end. Some of us don’t have fancy foreign lovers to lean on.”
“I’d say he’s still himself,” Maksim said, roaring with laughter. “So what does that make us, as we’re the men leaning on the man with the rich, pretty lover?”
“Children or servants,” Raz answered with a grin.
“Children,” Ivan said, cuffing a laughing Luka upside the head. “Definitely children. Who need to finish their ale and go to bed or something, before I beat you senseless.”
“Aw, dad,” Isidor and Ferapont chorused together, “can’t we stay up with you and mom?”
Ivan glared.
His men scrambled, chugging back their ales and rapidly finding somewhere else to be. Ivan chuckled.
“They are fond of you,” Ailill said with a laugh of his own. “I’ve never encountered a band quite like yours. Generally it is only money that keeps such men together.”
Ivan snorted. “Yeah, I started in a group like that. When the rest of them were hauled off to appointments with the chopping block, I took command of the six left. We tried not to repeat the mistakes of our predecessors. Discipline might be lacking, but we have each other’s backs.”
Ailill smiled, and the expression coaxed a return smile from Ivan.
Watching them hurt. Raz looked away, staring into the fire. After a moment, he stood up, shaking his head when the twins moved to follow, and left the inn to go for a walk, letting his feet wander at will. Eventually he wound up in the center of town, and leaned against the well, looking around at the lit houses, the shadows moving around inside.
Something in him warmed at the sight, something else still felt cold.
Perhaps because I failed.
What did that mean, exactly? Failed at what? The High Priest hadn’t seemed the type to fail at anything. If he’d been chosen as High Priest, obviously failure wasn’t something he faced very often.
Raz slid down to sit on the ground and curled up into himself, blocking out the worst of the evening chill. To judge by it, they were probably in for a long, bitter winter. He and Pechal should probably stay—
Pain sliced through him, and Raz shuddered as he fought sobs. Scorching idiot. Pechal was dead. Ivan and the others were planning to leave. There was no guarantee Shio and Shinju would stay around forever. Maybe he should leave, start a new life somewhere, a place that wouldn’t constantly dredge up now-painful memories.
And where he wouldn’t be constantly chased by the memory of pain-dark green eyes. Fire and ash, he was tired of those green eyes!
Looking at you pains me.
Raz tilted his head back and stared up at the stars, recalling all the nights he and Pechal had spent just watching them, a fire burning nearby to ward off any animals, jewels and coin burning holes in their packs, the excitement of a job well done making sleep impossible. Pechal had used to wonder what stars were. Raz had never cared. He wondered if Pechal could still see the stars.
Come winter, stars would be a rare sight. Clouds never left the sky when the cold descended. Usually he and Pechal found a large town and holed up for the winter, doing small, easy jobs to keep their funds up but mostly using the snow as an excuse to take a break, have fun. Raz wasn’t sure what he’d do now. He had Shinju and Shio, but it wasn’t the same. He was alone now. He didn’t want to be alone.
Get out. Looking at you pains me.
Biting back a scream of frustration, Raz climbed to his feet and stomped his way back to the in, footsteps softening only as he slipped inside. The tavern was silent now, everyone having gone off to bed. Which reminded him he didn’t know where his room was.
“Raz,” Shio said softly, and Raz looked up to see her sitting halfway up the stairs. “We were starting to worry.” Now Raz could see Shinju sitting all the way at the top of the stairs. “Come on, you look like you could use some rest.”
Raz nodded and allowed them to carry him off, sitting meekly as they wrestled his boots off, feeling much like a child who had misbehaved, and settled into a bed which smelled of rough soap and sweat, but otherwise clean. He was surprised at how exhausted he suddenly felt, and could feel himself dropping away, smiling faintly at the touch of soft lips to his cheek before sleep took him completely.
“So how many more days of this, boss?” Karp asked, making a face at his ale. “I’m all for the getting drunk night after night, but we could use work or a change of scenery. Money isn’t hurting a bit, but I don’t like this being idle.”
Ivan grunted. “I know. But let’s not forget we’ve managed to scorch an Earl. I don’t think he’s the type of man to just forget something like that.”
Isidor made vague, impatient motions in the air. “Yeah, but he must think you’re dead by now, boss. Didn’t he say there was no way anyone could break the curse? So you’re worrying over nothing.”
“A bad feeling is a bad feeling,” Ivan said with finality.
“Yes, boss,” his men chorused, and Maksim signaled for another round of ale.
“So, Raz,” Luka said, “tell us what your hard—“ His words were cut off by the slamming of the front door against the wall, and the entire tavern fell into a dead silence as a dozen men spilled inside, crowding the already packed room.
“Fire and ash,” Ivan swore.
Raz silently agreed. The men all wore the red and black uniforms of the royal army, and he didn’t like the look of the papers clutched by the leader – to judge from the tassels, he was holding warrants. The man’s eyes searched the room, and landed heavily on their table, eyes looking at each of them in turn.
“Clear out,” the leader, a Sergeant, barked. “Everyone has two minutes to get out of here or you will face arrest right alongside the criminals.” He strode over to their table, the click of his boots against the wooden floor loud even amongst the scrambling of people desperate to get away. He slammed his hand down on the table, shaking the tankards and plates of food. “Except you lot. One of you moves and your flesh will taste steel.”
Ivan eyed the Sergeant, unmoved. “We’re just sitting here drinking. Is that a crime now?”
“You’re all under arrest for the illegal use of magic, breaking and entering, and attacking a noble without provocation.”
Karp snorted. “Oh, there’s always provocation. Breathing, for instance.” He ducked as a soldier tried to punch him, catching the man’s wrist and shoving him back. “Don’t touch me, you scorching redcoat.”
“What proof do you have we’ve done anything?” Ivan pressed, shooting Karp a warning look.
“That is not my concern,” the Sergeant replied. “By order of his Lordship the Earl Vladimir Zholty, Advisor of Magic, you are all under arrest. Anyone who attempts to resist will be dealt with accordingly.”
Ivan snorted. “Attempt to resist? Don’t be stupid. We’re not going to attempt anything. We fully intend to succeed.” Even as he finished speaking Ivan was moving, throwing his ale into the face of the Sergeant, swinging around to smash the empty tankard into the face of the soldier behind him, hearing as the man’s nose was crushed, then slammed it down on his head. Dropping the ruined tankard, he drew his sword and went for the next soldier as everyone exploded into action.
Tables and chairs were scattered, broken, glass and ale going everywhere as the soldiers and mercenaries fought. Raz dodged a sword thrust and grabbed a chair, swinging around and slamming it into the side of the soldier nearest him, then stumbled backwards, away from another sword.
He looked frantically around, wondering at why there seemed to be a lot more than the initial dozen soldiers now, finally catching sight of Shio and Shinju, dismayed to see that they were barely managing to keep ahead of their assailants. He cried out as a hand grabbed him, threw him into a wall. Groaning, Raz struggled to his feet just in time to avoid the sword thrust aimed at his gut. “Don’t touch me!” he roared as the soldier again lunged. Raz ducked, then surged forward and shoved the soldier back, eyes widening in horror as he screamed in pain and collapsed.
“Magic user! Kill him!” The Sergeant bellowed, and Raz’s head jerked up. He stared in dismay as a group of soldiers gave up on the mercs and came toward him. Raz stared. Why?
“Kill that one,” the Sergeant repeated. “And the Highlander. Capture the rest.”
“No!” Raz could Ivan’s snarl over the cacophony of the fight, and he was so busy watching how efficiently and ruthlessly Ivan cut through the soldiers to reach him – not Ailill, who was doing fine on his own – that he barely avoided the soldier that had snuck up behind him.
Ivan stabbed the soldier in question, then dragged Raz close. “We’ll get out of this. Stay close, I doubt you’re used to this level of fighting, street kid or no.”
“No,” Raz said. “Nothing like this. Why—“ His words were cut off by screams of pain, and Raz watched dumbfounded as everyone but Ivan and Ailill dropped to the ground, unconscious. And Ivan, taken by surprise, froze a moment too long, and Raz could only cry out as a soldier came up from behind and clubbed him upside the head. “What?”
“Not used to magic,” the Sergeant said shortly. “Kill that one!” he snapped, and Raz watched in horror as all the remaining soldiers went for Ailill, watching as the man fought them off, paling as they swarmed him. Then he had no more time to watch, realizing too late that he’d let his guard down. The Sergeant was choking him, the leather of his gloves hot, sticking to his skin, grip hard enough there would be bruises if he lived. Whatever he’d done to the other man didn’t seem to be working now.
“Let me go,” Raz said.
“You reek of magic, boy, and I don’t have the time or patience to burn it out. Killing you will suffice,” the Sergeant replied.
“What?” Raz choked the word out, then felt nothing but white hot pain. “Why?”
“I do as the Earl commands,” the Sergeant answered. “For the sake of Pozhar, and in the Queen’s name.” He let Raz go and let him drop to the floor, then spun sharply around and started barking orders. “Kill the Highlander. You men, get the rest of these vagabonds out of here. Chain them, make sure they can’t get free.”
Raz fought to stay conscious, but his eyes were so heavy…he heard a scream of pain, and thought it sounded like Ailill…then nothing.
Chapter Sixteen
Raz woke with a groan that turned into a hiss of pain as he clutched his stomach, and fell back on the bed.
Bed.
Awake.
What?
Raz tried sitting up again, groaning but enduring the pain, and forced his eyes to focus.
He was in what looked like an inn room…one that his practiced eye immediately noted was far more than he could afford, especially as he was relatively certain he should be dead. The room was simple, but the furniture was well-crafted, details and carvings in the wood that no peasant or simple traveler’s inn could afford to buy or make. He could tell the sheets were linen, not rough, homespun cotton, and there was more good linen for curtains. A glass lamp was on one table, another on the small bedside table. Rugs on the floor, which were themselves made of smooth, polished wood. Not the place he thought he’d died, definitely. Where was he? How did he get here?
“You’re finally awake,” a cool voice said.
Raz snapped his head around. Stared.
Every last bit of the man screamed nobility. Even sitting down he was tall, making the chair look too small. He was dressed severely in black jacket and breeches, boots polished to a mirror shine. His hair was dark red, brushed neatly back away from his severe-looking face. The eyes so coolly watching Raz were a dark, rich amber, with all the sharpness of a hawk examining its prey.
“Who are you?” Raz asked, licking his lips, swallowing to ease his dry throat. “What’s going on?”
The man motioned to a glass and pitcher of water on the table, and Raz slowly helped himself, spilling only some of the water as he poured it out. He lifted the glass and drank half of it in one gulp, then forced himself to sip the rest. “I did not think I would get here in time. That stupid Earl always manages to get one step ahead of me, the bastard. If I had arrived any later, you and the Beast would both be dead. And what a Beast is doing here, obviously in secret, I would dearly love to know.”
“Beast?” Raz asked. “Ailill? Where is he? He’s all right?”
“Over there,” the man said, gesturing past Raz’s shoulder.
Ignoring the throbbing pain in his gut, Raz turned and saw that Ailill was slowly sitting up, holding his head. Ailill looked about how Raz felt, pale hair disheveled and tangled, face tight with weariness even though they must have been sleeping hard for a day at least, pale eyes hard as they lighted on their rescuer. “You’re all right!” He turned back to the stranger. “Where are the others?”
“Long gone,” the man said shortly, “and not my concern. You are my concern.”
“Who are you?” Raz asked. “You still haven’t told me that – or what’s going on here.”
“You are…” Ailil’s voice held a cautious tone to it, “Duke Krasny, if memory serves. We met once, briefly.”
“Nikolai will suffice for the time being,” Nikolai said. He sat back in the faded blue armchair he had claimed, arms folded idly across his chest. “You are a Beast of the Faerie Queen. Your friend here called you Ailill—“
Raz flushed and ducked his head. “Sorry.”
“Which means you must be the Marquis Ailill le Blanc, the White Panther. I vaguely recall our encounter.”
Ailill inclined his head. “I prefer Ailill.”
“The only name we’re missing is yours, then,” Nikolai said, looking at Raz.
“Raz.” He looked between them. "No Duke or anything."
“That makes you the lucky one,” Ailill said, rising from his own bed and settling down next to Raz, resting a hand briefly on his shoulder. His expression hardened as he looked at Nikolai. “Stop playing games.”
Nikolai snorted. “I am not the one playing games – or at least, I did not start this one. Subtlety is not one of my strong suits.” He fell silent a moment, as if lost to some memory. “Zholty started this game,” he said finally. “I am merely trying to end it. In a matter of days I will do so.”
“Stop him from doing what?” Ailill asked. “You are remarkably good at not explaining.”
“You are remarkably rude. I could have left you to die.”
Ailill shrugged. “You didn’t. That was your decision.”
Nikolai grimaced. “Zholty and I have no love for the current arrangement of things in the palace. I chose one route to change things, he chose another. I chased after him thinking he was trying to kill the last Candidate before the High Priest could…it would seem, however, that Zholty is merely settling a personal vendetta.” His eyes gleamed with smug satisfaction as he eyed Raz. “Which means I am once again ahead of the game.”
“How so?” Ailill asked slowly. “What have we to do with any of this? I would think leaving us to die would have proven more useful. No one knows I’m here.”
“Do not insult my intelligence. As if the Queen wouldn’t know if one of her precious Beast’s were slain,” Nikolai said, brushing the words aside impatiently. “It would not have taken her long to find out where you were when you died, especially as the villagers here would be sure to talk about how they buried a giant white cat.”
Ailill nodded. “As you say. Why your interest in Raz, then?”
“That is not information I am willing to divulge quite yet.”
Raz frowned. “Then why should I scorching cooperate with you? Because that’s obviously what you’re expecting. Nobles don’t trek halfway across the country to save riff raff for no reason.”
“And they say you street urchins have no brains,” Nikolai replied. “If you don’t cooperate, your friends are going to die. I need you to help me stop that fool Zholty once and for all.” His dark eyes flicked to Ailill. “Any testimony you can offer would be appreciated.”
“My word alone is enough to stop whatever Zholty is planning,” Ailill said.
“Hardly,” Nikolai said. “You can stop whatever he is doing with his prisoners, certainly, but that is just a little side venture for our good Earl. His ultimate goal is something quite different, and that can only be stopped by our young friend here.”
Raz recoiled. “I’m no friend of yours. I’m no one. How can I stop an Earl?”
“Why, by getting to the High Priest before Zholty gets to you. As I said, I was vastly amused upon my arrival to learn that he was settling a personal vendetta, and not chasing after you as I thought. No wonder he learned your location so quickly…he didn’t even know.” Nikolai threw his head back and laughed. “Ah, it is good to finally be a step ahead of that bastard.”
Raz felt a sudden chill. “Why would the Earl be chasing after me?”
“Judging from the sudden pallor of your face, I would hazard to say you have already figured out the answer.”
Raz nodded, gaze dropping to the floor, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m the last Candidate.”
Nikolai dipped his head and shoulders in a graceful half bow. “You’re the last Candidate.”
Ailill hissed. “That can’t be. Pechal…what are the chances of two Candidates being such close friends?”
“Ask the High Priest,” Nikolai said. “I know only what I see in his drawings, and his latest – yet to be publicly released due to mourning for the late King – is most certainly of our young friend here.” He shifted his attention to Raz. “If you do not come with me, I promise the Earl will spare no expense or torture to see that you are found and killed before the High Priest can do the deed. Should he ever learn those prisoners were companions of yours, he will use them to get to you. Certainly you can run and hide, if you like; no one would blame you – though I promise that even with the Beast getting away from me will not be an easy task. But if you do run, your friends will most certainly die, and many more will suffer attempting to hunt you down.”
Raz didn’t lift his gaze from the floor. He wasn’t sure he could move. His body felt stiff. Frozen. Was this how Pechal had felt when he’d first learned he was the Candidate? No wonder he’d been so panicked that first night. Raz wondered if he’d offered any comfort to his friend. He wished he had Pechal now.
He could run. Ailill would help him, and he suspected Ailill could also rescue Ivan and the others with very little problem.
The last Candidate. Raz fisted his hands to still their trembling. Why hadn’t learning that surprised him? Fire and ash he’d just wanted to be a thief. Steal and run and play until they were finally caught.
At least this way Pechal wouldn’t be alone. Maybe he could finally figure out why the High Priest haunted him. “All right,” Raz said finally. “What do you want from me?”
“Raz!” Ailill protested. “You don’t have to do this.”
Raz smiled faintly, sadly. “I want to. And I’ll be saving my country, right? A heroic thief…” He shook his head when Ailill tried to protest further. “Look at what happened when Pechal tried to escape. Those men took him, he wound up killing them, and Ivan’s men were nearly killed trying to protect him. I don’t want that. No one should die because of me.”
Pain sliced through him as his own words, so deep Raz gasped with it.
I’m so sorry…
I don’t deserve…
Can you ever forgive me?
“Those men he killed were mine, ironically enough, and I’d sent them to take the last Candidate from Zholty’s men.” Nikolai stood up, brushing imaginary dust from his coat and pants. “Rest for the evening. Come morning we must move out. Zholty’s men have a three day start on us and we’ll have to move quickly if we’re to reach the palace as they do.” Bowing his head and shoulders, Nikolai then turned and left, and the locking of the door had a finality to it.
Ailill reached out and tugged Raz close, embracing him. “Raz. Are you certain? We could get away, and rescue them ourselves. There’s no reason to do this.”
“I have my reasons.” Jewel green eyes and an ache in his chest that wouldn’t ease. He laughed, the sound weak, unsteady. “It sort of feels like I knew it all along. Does that make any sense?”
“It does,” Ailill said quietly. “In Verde, we do not change until we begin to enter adulthood and until we change there is no guarantee of what our Form will be – though of course children tend to take after their parents. My mother was an owl, my father a hawk…yet I knew, deep inside, that when I changed I would be neither. I was not surprised to find I was a White Panther.”
Raz nodded. “Why is that so special?”
“Verde was once ruled by three gods – the Faerie Queen and the Guardians. But she is also protected and served by twelve White Beasts. We are…what our Queen has in lieu of priests and such. Our magic is the most powerful in the country, our Forms stronger than all the rests…we live to serve our Queen.” Ailill sighed. “We also die for her, whenever the tragedy begins to play itself out again. But there is enough gloom in this room, my friend, do not make me drag out my own woes.”
“Ivan’s going to have a fit that you’re a Marquis.”
Ailill chuckled. “I can assure you I was more upset about the situation than anyone. I liked my parents’ little mountain cabin, and I was sorely disappointed when I knew I was a cat and not a bird. No feathers for me, alas,” Ailill shrugged.
“Cat seems pretty scorching to me,” Raz said with a grin.
“It could certainly be worse,” Ailill agreed.
They lapsed into silence. Raz let his mind wander, but forcefully yanked his thoughts away when they tried to dwell on what was in his near future. He played back over the fight, all that had happened. “How did they get the better of you?”
Ailill winced. “A good question. My magic did not work quite as well as it should have, and I was reluctant to use my Form in such close quarters. Ultimately, I was sloppy. I will not underestimate them again.” He sighed. “I hope Ivan and the others are still alive. The Duke’s words do not fill me with confidence.” Standing, he gripped Raz’s shoulder in a comforting gesture before moving back to his own bed. “We should get some rest. Tomorrow, I feel, is going to be very long.”
“Long and unbearable,” Raz agreed and lay back down, not realizing until then how tired he still was. He buried his head in his pillow, dreading the dreams that would plague him, but within seconds he was asleep, and slept too deeply to dream.
“I hate horses,” Raz complained. “Why can’t we walk?”
Nikolai ignored him.
Ailill smiled briefly, but his amusement faded as he turned to Nikolai. “So why are you here? Why not send more men?”
“Because the last men I sent were killed – quite brutally, or so I read in the High Priest’s reports. I did not feel like losing more men.”
“Surely your absence will have been noted.”
Nikolai shrugged. “Doubtless. My return will also be noted, however, and quite overshadow my disappearance. And wondering where I have gone will keep Zholty too busy to hunt properly for the Candidate himself.” He smiled coldly. “The bastard should not have tried to outsmart me.”
Raz rolled his eyes and cast his attention elsewhere. He rode a black mare, a horse he knew probably cost as much as some of the items he’d stolen. She was sweet, gentle for a horse, and did not show any sign that the hours of traveling bothered her.
They definitely bothered Raz, though most of that was probably because he was trying to avoid thinking about what would happen when they reached their destination.
Will you come back?
Why should I?
I hope you change your mind.
Raz sighed, tired of his own head. Why did he keep dwelling on a man he knew nothing about?
He stilled. Perhaps he didn’t know anything. He turned to Nikolai. “What’s the High Priest like?”
Nikolai looked at him, annoyed and impatient. “Why do you ask?”
“It would be nice to know the man who’s going to sacrifice me isn’t a scorching bastard.”
“He’s arrogant, insufferable, and far too quiet for my liking. Nor do I like the way he affects my cousin. Once his job is done, I plan to have that man uprooted from the palace and buried deep in the countryside.”
Raz frowned. Arrogant? Insufferable? Quiet – that he could see. The High Priest he’d seen for those few, brief minutes had never seemed to be someone given to a great deal of talking. But arrogant and insufferable? No…those words didn’t suit. “He always seemed sad to me.”
“I’m certain he does his best to appear so,” Nikolai replied. “Everyone in Pozhar has a hand in the murdering of a god, but it’s his hands which are bloodiest right now.”
“Yet without the High Priest,” Ailill said, “you would have a hard time destroying the pieces. Or am I mistaken in thinking the task of burning the pieces is a difficult one?”
“It takes years of training, or so I am told. The details do not matter to me.” Nikolai shifted impatiently in his saddle. “My duty is to advise her Majesty and serve Pozhar. I will do whatever is necessary to do my duty, including rescuing riff raff and escorting it across the country.”
Ailill lifted a brow. “It would seem to me that Raz is a trifle more than ‘riff raff,’ my good Duke.”
Nikolai shrugged. “Being a Candidate does not change his station.”
“Station is not necessarily indicative of how much respect one is due,” Ailill said sharply. “I think you and the good Earl are proof of that. Certainly I have all the respect in the world for Raz and none for you.”
“I do not want to hear such words coming from a man whose country squabbles over whether or not a lion should have to obey a pig, or a snake follow a mouse,” Nikolai replied with a sneer. “Honestly, even when you’re human it’s patently obvious you’ve an animal side.”
Ailill’s hands tightened on his reins, his horse fretting for a moment before Ailill calmed him. “At least Verde is not a country full of murders.”
Nikolai sniffed. “No, it is merely your Queen who is bloodthirsty.”
“I will not tolerate such words from you!” Ailill snarled, moving very much like a cat as he grabbed Nikolai by the throat. “Your hands are as bloody as the High Priest’s, you pompous little prick. Do not think because I go along with this scheme of yours that I won’t hesitate to show you how much of a Beast I can be. Verde works to save their Goddess; we are not murders like you Firelanders.”
“Unhand me,” Nikolai said coldly, “or I will show you how fire feathers are properly used. I promise I am easily a match for your Highland magic.”
Ailill ignored him. “I doubt it, Duke.”
“Try me,” Nikolai replied, eyes flashing. “Only one man ever got the better of me, and I doubt you have the nasty little trick he used.”
“I have nasty tricks of my own,” Ailill said, eyes just as hard.
“That’s enough!” Raz snapped. “Is that all you nobles do? Fight? Kill? Even Ivan’s never gone so low as to commit murder, and when he picks a fight he’s smart enough to charge someone for putting him to so much trouble! Why does anyone need him or I when you’re obviously willing to do all the dirty work yourself? Fire and ash, I can’t think why any god would want to be anything but dead, to be surrounded by people who only want to fight and kill.”
Ailill and Nikolai fell silent. Raz shifted uncomfortably on his horse, ducking his head and hunching his shoulders as the silence grew heavy.
“The Sacred Firebird was killed because of his arrogance,” Nikolai said slowly, breaking the silence. “They said he was cold and contemptuous, and had no love for his people.”
Raz shrugged irritably, feeling hot and awkward, and wishing very much to be anywhere else. “When we reach the palace, I have to die because people decided a god was arrogant. Pechal had to die because more people decided to make certain that god stayed dead. I don’t want to spend my last few days listening to the two of you threatening to kill each other, and I definitely don’t want to see you try to kill each other.”
Silence fell again as he finished speaking, and this time no one broke it.