Chapter Ten
“NO, THAT IS…BY THE GODDESS…YOU ARE A JOY.” Teryn laughed as we rode along the next night, hoping to see the settlement of Darvaze before the sun rose once more.
Our steeds were making good time, or so Teryn kept telling me.
They felt slower than my mare but were proving to be much more adept at the terrain and the lack of water.
Their pacing gait grew tiring to one used to the movements of a horse, but other than that, and the sour temperament of my pretty flower, they were hardy beasts.
Gwedel would have laid down in exhaustion, parched by now, but the quadoth simply kept putting their two-toed feet forward.
“No, you just asked me if my mother lay with boars.”
My face grew hot even though the night was cool. “That is not what I meant to ask!”
“I assumed not.” He chuckled softly. I glanced over to admire him sitting atop his steed, legs crossed, back straight, proud and comfortable with himself and his lands.
The moons played well upon his light robes making him appear to be swaddled in gossamer celestial weaves.
By Ihdos, I was deeply infatuated with the man.
How that would play out I could not guess.
If we failed this mission and our countries went to war—“Try again. You are placing your emphasis on the wrong letters. Try again but with more emphasis on the last vocable. Add more pitch and a bit more duration.”
“Helah, maman,” I said just as he directed and got a hoot of joy from my handsome tutor.
“Excellent! That was quite nicely done. And the opposite?” he asked, swaying left and right on his beast as we passed through a small clump of prickly cacti that rose upward into the night, arms upward as if beseeching the gods for favor.
“Oh! This is good to see. The Sentinels are a sign that we are closing in on Darvaze. Just another small bit to go, then we can rest for the day.”
“Nah, maman,” I said in a way that made Teryn groan. “Sorry, my tongue is unfit.”
“Oh no, Pasil, I find your tongue to be quite fit as well as exceptionally skilled.”
I should have told him to stop such talk but found myself smiling. “Perhaps we will have to spend more time training my tongue?”
“Mm, perhaps indeed.” He glanced my way, winked, and returned to my Sandrayan lesson.
This man was a temptation like none I had ever experienced before.
The lands around us were alive with bird calls, the rustling of mammals with large eyes to match their huge ears, and insects that sang in a steady backdrop.
The moons were inching closer to the annual alignment.
Time was not our ally. When we cleared the winding path through the mighty cacti, I spied fires. Several at least.
“There, in the distance. Is that Darvaze?” I asked and got a nod in reply.
We spurred our beasts onward, asking for more speed, which mine gave, but it was with reluctance.
The grunts of other quadoth floated to us as did the sounds of music and revelry.
The small domed houses were in a circle, smoke leaking through holes in the top of them.
Adults danced around a fire in the center of the settlement as children dashed about with colorful streamers attached to boards that made a whizzing sound caused by the wind rushing through holes in the flat, thin paddles.
Musicians blew on high-pitched pipes, banged on small drums, and plucked beautiful stringed instruments much like the lyres the bards of the mainland played.
Scruffy dogs darted around us barking in excitement.
I glanced to the left and saw a pen with horses.
Horses! Smaller than the ones on the mainland but horses just the same.
I threw a look at Teryn, but he was too intent on the celebration taking place.
I wondered what it would cost me to buy one of the desert ponies.
I would ask as soon as we were settled. Then I could spit back at Razgol.
“It seems we have arrived during a wedding,” he shouted to me. We halted beside a well festooned with desert blooms. The ancient structure was round, built of the same sandy savannah dirt blocks as the homes. “We will dismount and find the groom and bride to offer them a gift.”
That seemed an odd thing. We did not know the people being married, nor had any affiliation with these peoples, but if that was the custom. When in the Black Sands…
A young man of perhaps fifteen seasons ran to us, bowing to Teryn as he spoke in rapid-fire Sandrayan. Teryn replied cheerfully and motioned for me to gather our gear and hand the reins of our quadoth to the young man.
“He will tend to them for us,” Teryn explained while passing a copper to the lad in the bright yellow robes.
The boy grinned at him, gave me an odd look, and waited while I unpacked the now resting quadoth.
When I had our bags in hand and on my shoulders, the young man clicked at the beasts to get them to rise rear first and then amble off.
“Come with me,” Teryn shouted over the clatter of tiny bells that now joined the performers.
“Remember that you are my hired sword and a mainlander, so do not provoke anyone.”
“Most here make it hard to forget that I am from the mainland,” I confessed softly, which got me a melancholy look from Teryn.
We mingled into the crowds, men and women in bright robes, feet in sandals, whirling about, drunk by the looks.
Many cast inebriated glares my way, some spat at me, and some tossed bits of uneaten food at me.
Keeping my eyes on Teryn’s back, I forced myself to ford onward, the dancers splitting in half as we moved through.
An older man with a thick gray beard stepped up to Teryn, hands out in a traditional Sandrayan greeting.
The two men clasped forearms. Conversation that I could not fully hear took place between them.
I felt much like a mule freshly come down the steppes, bags packed with lavender, as they conversed.
The dancers began tossing flower petals at me, which was a marked improvement over the cooked orange squash that had hit my chest a mere moment ago.
It was not pleasant being looked down upon.
No wonder these vibrant, passionate elves had fled the mainland thousands of seasons ago, much like the wood elves had fled to the forests. Piteous how one treated their brethren.
“We have a small tent to rest in beside the horse pen,” Teryn announced in common elven, his eyes settling on the smears of food on my armor. His eyebrows drew into a deep V, but he said nothing. “Follow us and try to be less offensive.”
“Yes, of course,” I mumbled as we moved back into the celebration, veering left to pause in front of a striped tent, flaps closed, the smell of horse dung strong.
That was a smell I did not mind at all. It reminded me of home: the barracks, the stables, the cool touch of sea spray on Gwedel’s golden flanks.
A pang of homesickness hit hard. I shook it off to open the flap for Teryn.
He gave me a look and ducked to enter. I followed.
The inside of the tent was lit with one small brazier in the center of several sleeping mats.
An urn of water sat beside a basket lined with fabric, the striped weave covering something within the wicker hamper.
“Close the flap,” Teryn barked. I did as asked.
No sooner was the linen in place than he was pressed to me, tearing at the wraps on his lower face with one hand as the other cupped the back of my head, his mouth covering mine.
His kiss was voracious. When I pulled back to catch my breath, I scanned his gaze before reaching up to loosen the rest of the wrappings.
“I loathe speaking to you like that, Pasil.”
I ran the back of my fingers along his jaw, the dark whiskers coming in slowly but surely. It amazed me how similar we were and yet so different.
“It is part of the ruse. I understand.” His gaze was pained as he studied me, his fingers curling around the back of my head.
“It is nothing that I cannot bear. I grew up being called names, so this is much like that, only back as a child, the food tossed at me would have been picked up to take home to eat.”
He seemed at a loss for words. Something that I doubted a skilled statesman did not experience often.
His lips parted. A soft scratch at the tent flap pulled our attention from each other.
No sooner had we pulled apart than a duo of peach-faced parrots wiggled through the flap, hopping along as birds on the ground do, glistening tubes on their legs.
“Amazing,” I whispered as Teryn left my embrace to drop down to offer his arm to one of the birds.
How these birds knew how to find the one receiving a missive always left me in awe.
Yes, I knew a druid whispered to the bird and through those magicked invocations, the birds could track the recipient, which was a level of skill above the common ravens that flew between set points such as Celear and Renedith.
“They are highly intelligent birds,” Teryn replied as he loosened one tube and then the other, each bird flapping to his arm and patiently waiting with a leg out.
They would not come to me, so I knew each missive was for Teryn, which was understandable.
He was the ambassador, and I just a guard.
“Perhaps we could find them some food while I read over these. They are from your king and my vahasi.”
“I could step outside and allow the villagers to hurl fruit at me.”
He threw me a look of amusement. “You are quite funny at times. I like that cutting tongue of yours.”
“Yes, I noticed how you enjoy my tongue.”