Chapter Four The First Ray of Sunlight #3
The Prince ached as he had never ached before.
His head was pounding from lack of food and water, and his mouth tasted awful from the disgusting cloth gag.
His back was on fire, and his legs felt as though they’d taken on the shape of the saddle.
Nevertheless, he sat up straight and pretended he was unfazed.
He knew the Exiles knew he was pretending, but he pretended right back that they didn’t.
He was a Prince, no matter if he had been tied to a horse all day and led through a forest and helplessly tied to a tree for the night.
Yes, he reminded himself forcefully, in spite of all that, he was still a Prince.
Dinner was simple: the Exiles produced bread and cheese from their packs and water from somewhere the Prince couldn’t discern, and Tomaz ate the remainder of the huge leg of meat he’d been cooking that morning, breaking open the bone when he finished in order to get at the marrow.
A small fire was made, carefully sheltered from the biting wind that stung the Prince with cold as it whistled through the ravine.
He huddled against his tree—a tree!—under the rock outcropping, still trying to be a Prince as best he could.
The two Exiles talked softly to one another, in large part ignoring the Prince aside from occasional glances to check he wasn’t making trouble. The Prince repaid them in kind, keeping to himself. He began to make a list of all he had learned about them, hoping he’d find something of use.
Tomaz. Big, tall, wide, strong. Beard—perhaps good to grab hold of in a fight.
The Prince’s eyes flicked to the greatsword that was now slung across the man’s back.
That was the biggest problem. If it came to a fight, the Prince would need to close distance, strike fast, and then get away quickly before the giant could use it.
What about the girl? No name yet. The giant just used that strange title, eshendai, when he addressed her.
Shorter than Tomaz, but about the same height as the Prince.
Lithe, spry—unlike the mountain of a man she sat next to.
Her movements were sharp, quick, and deliberate, even when just tying down a saddle.
In a fight, he would be stronger, but she might be faster.
They’d be evenly matched, if she had training.
He’d need to keep her at a distance if he fought her, and only close when he was sure of a strike.
And then he reached out through his Talisman and felt their lives.
It was harder to do with Baseborn. The Children and the Empress left deep impressions on the world, and when they were near it was easy to sense the essence of their lives, as easy as it was for any man or woman to feel the heat of a burning flame.
But ordinary people were more difficult.
The Prince could always sense them, could always feel their lives pressing against him everywhere he went, but to truly reach deep and grasp them took concentration.
He reached out first to Tomaz. The impressions that came through the Talisman were never coherent thoughts, but more akin to jumbled sensory perceptions. So when he delved into Tomaz, flashes of red crossed his vision, and then a litany of sensations.
The sound of steel ringing together—determination and a profound, serene patience—a percussive, insistent drumbeat— smells of mint and lavender—the feel of rough leather—
He pulled back, and breathed to let the impressions go.
He moved to the girl.
Swirls of green and silver light—the sound of steel cutting silk—the silent second after a symphony ends—the smell of newly trodden dust mixed with fresh honey—old pain—grim laughter—a quiet, secret sense of wonder—
He pulled back again, centering himself in his own mind. He managed to remain outwardly calm and to keep his breathing soft and quiet. There was nothing remarkable about them, and separately they were just two more ordinary people.
Together though, he realized, they complimented each other perfectly.
Even just looking at them and listening to them talk made that clear.
The girl spoke with a quick fluency that showed she was the planner, the thinker, while the big man spoke with a more considered deliberateness that showed he was the pragmatic conservative.
She was the fire and he the ring of stones that helped contain and direct her.
And one fact had become increasingly clear to him during the day’s journey—these two ordinary people were very good at remaining unseen.
The big man was always ranging behind, covering their tracks, while the girl kept a constant eye out for anything ahead and often picked out winding roads that took them up small creeks, over hard rocks, and around soft patches of dirt and grass.
What was more, the quick skill and efficiency with which they had chosen this place to rest for the night, how the big man had noted the opening of the ravine though it was narrow and the sky dark, how the fire had been made in such a way that it barely smoked, it all added up to show that they were as comfortable in this mountain landscape as the Prince was in the stone halls of his Mother’s Fortress.
The chances that he was going to be rescued by an outside presence seemed slimmer by the hour.
He tried to think up plans of his own, but each one met with problems, once again because of the way the Exiles fit together; every weakness he observed in one of the two was countered by a strength in the other.
Tomaz was not overly intelligent, but the girl was.
The girl was hot-tempered, and the Prince was fairly certain he could lure her into making a false move; but Tomaz, even when chastising him, had exhibited no predictable spikes of emotion save good-natured humor.
No, unless the two were separated, he stood no chance of escape.
So how to separate them?
“Finished with your dinner, princeling?”
With a start, he realized the girl had rounded the fire and was standing in the shifting shadows not far off.
“Don’t call me that,” he said.
Her eyes narrowed. “Well, what should I call you then?”
“I have no name,” he responded with proud defiance. While at the Empress’ court in the Fortress this was a sign of dishonor; here among those who refused to live by Her laws, he felt a glow of pride knowing that he was still loyal to Her word.
“You have no name,” the girl repeated, tasting the words. “Well, that’s quite interesting and everything, but it’s time to sleep.”
She pulled the gag out of her pocket.
“Do you really insist on gagging me in my sleep?” he asked in exasperation. “What do you think I’m going to do? Sleep cry for help?”
The girl didn’t listen to him, but grabbed a hank of hair, yanked his head back, and forced the gag into his mouth. But as she turned away, she paused. She turned back.
“I’ll make a deal with you,” she said. Her eyes were glowing strangely, and a smile played at the corner of her mouth. “I’ll take the gag off—and keep it off—if you answer one question.”
The Prince tensed. Was she trying to bribe him? Were the attempts to get information out of him already beginning?
All the same… what could it hurt to hear what she had to say? The question might be something that would tell him what she thought important. And what was the worst she would do if he refused to answer? She’d probably just gag him again.
“I untie the gag,” she repeated, “and keep it off if you answer just one question.”
He thought it over for another moment, chewing on the salty, dirty, wet piece of cloth, and finally nodded. The girl walked over and undid the knot.
“What’s your name?”
The Prince, mouth open, snapped his jaws together so quickly that it hurt. He glared at her.
“Hmm,” she said with a smile. “Told you he wouldn’t make one up, Tomaz. He’s too proud for that. Don’t know why someone would be proud of having their name taken from them, but then again I’m just an Exile. Pay up, ashandel.”
The big man grunted and a small coin arched through the air into the girl’s hand. The Prince’s temper got the better of him.
“I have no name,” he said defiantly. “I have no name because the Empress herself, guardian of the Diamond Throne, heir of Theron Isdiel from across the Ocean, chose to take it from me. I am a subject of the Empress, and until the time comes when she chooses to restore my name, I wear my un-identity with pride. I have committed sins against the Empire, and once I have atoned for them, I will be restored to my rightful place. Glory to the Empress! Glory to the Diamond Throne on which She sits! Glory to the legacy of Her Empire and Her Will!”
He normally wouldn’t have added the Three Affirmations; they were an extravagance used mostly by Defenders of the Realm, the most zealous members of the Empire’s armed forces. But in that moment, it felt good to reaffirm his loyalty in the presence of these outlaws.
If he had expected the Exiles to cower, however, he was gravely disappointed. The air did still, and the joviality of the situation died. But instead of looking chagrined, the girl considered him for a long moment, and then slapped him full in the face.
The Prince was stunned. No Baseborn had ever struck him outside of the training grounds in all his seventeen years, and now not only had he been struck, but by an Exile! A girl Exile!
“You want to know what the glory of the Empress is?” she asked. “Because I can tell you the glory of your Empress!”
A big hand laid itself on her shoulder, and she was gently pulled back. Somehow Tomaz had crossed their little campsite without making any noise. “This is neither the time nor the place, eshendai,” he said.
The girl shot one last burning look at him, and then turned on her heel and stalked off, up the ravine and into the tree line.