Dalvany Manor had become overcrowded as the only refugee point in the province. The dining hall and the ballroom had both been emptied to hold rows upon rows of medical cots, some pressed so close they were touching. Anyone with basic medicinal understanding was rushing between them, working non-stop to help those who had been caught in the crossfire or trapped in the rubble. The sight of so many bodies, most broken, many crying, reminded him a little too much of the field of hanging trees, but Asher tried not to think about it.
His leg had again been splintered and wrapped, an ugly, bruising bulbous thing on the end of his knee that didn’t hurt as much anymore. His arm had also been stitched and bandaged, and his rib had been fixed and was held in place by very tight bandages. His other injuries weren’t considered bad enough to receive immediate attention. That didn’t bother Asher. He’d offered to help as one of the frazzled, grey faced volunteers rushed past, but Eveyln swept in out of nowhere to tell him no, and he was grateful now just to lie down and stop thinking for a little bit.
Penn woke up the day after he did, stretched out in the cot next to his and alert so fast it made Asher dizzy. If anyone even noticed his horns or his angular features, they didn’t say anything, and Penn seemed more content to sit at his cot and tear his attention between Asher and Nadu. Apparently, Nadu had collapsed as soon as they stepped through the doorway, the sudden shock of being in a new world after so long had been too much. Teka assured Asher that it was normal in Nakati and he would recover, but still Penn watched, keeping silent vigil.
At one point a tiny Nakati wove through the crowd and approached Penn, speaking low and fast to him, and Penn told Asher to watch over Nadu as he got to his feet and rushed outside. King business, Asher guessed. When Teka moved over to sit on the now vacant bed, Asher could feel himself drifting off all over again.
‘The debts my family owe you are beyond payment, my friend,’ Teka said.
‘I don’t expect payment,’ Asher mumbled. ‘Penn is my friend. He’s—’
‘You two are more than that,’ Teka said. ‘And I’m glad for it. It has helped you both.’
Asher swallowed. ‘I once told my friend that I didn’t enter courtships with other people. He called me a liar.’
‘Pehnrylin isn’t able to form courtships,’ Teka said. ‘It is against his design. I know little of human… relationships, and I can tell you now we don’t have the parts to make it work.’
Heat flushed through Asher’s face. ‘But—’
‘You are not a traditional man,’ Teka said. ‘But you are still able to care for the people you chose to. Even if they aren’t people.’ He chuckled, then fell silent when Asher didn’t reply. ‘Your friend was mad because he wasn’t the one to see those affections.’
Asher didn’t say anything.
‘Does the opinion of this person mean so much?’ Teka asked. ‘This is the man from the Gate, yes? The one who broke the law of the natural world, who passed a point of redemption so far it corrupted his place in the universe? That friend?’
‘I never…’ Asher swallowed. ‘He was my friend. I wanted to save him. What kind of person does that make me?’
‘One who wanted to see hope,’ Teka said. ‘And there was hope for redemption. When you reached him, he was human. Out in the ruins, that was the moment he went too far. That was his choice, not yours. You won the battle, my friend. He decided not to be saved.’
Asher nodded, but the weight of it all pressed heavy, leaving him feeling empty. He’d never thought about Navarre being that kind of bad person, the kind to make unforgivable decisions, but a part of him had already accepted it, ever since he found those tunnels. All of it was so messy. He didn’t want to think about it anymore.
‘If you need help at any point, give the word.’ Teka got to his feet and squeezed Asher’s shoulder. ‘You will always be welcome in our lands. Right now, I need to see to Nadu.’
‘Is he okay?’ Asher asked. He glanced over at the other cot, only to see the Nakati still out cold.
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‘He will be,’ Teka said. ‘And so will you.’
Teka turned away, and Asher struggled into a sitting position, shuffling upwards despite the pain in his ribs and the absolute numbness of his leg. He spotted Sara and Iain both sitting on chairs by the far wall, both in deep conversation with each other. They were too far for Asher to read their expression, but there was tension in the air around them. If he knew Iain well enough, he could convince himself the man was crying.
He didn’t see Norrah approach until she had taken the seat Teka had left vacant. She still wore the travelling coat, torn and stained with dirt and blood. A bandage had been wrapped around her shoulder, and her skin was grey, her eyes red and her hair a mess. Asher shifted.
‘I feel like I should explain,’ he mumbled.
‘You should,’ Norrah said. ‘But I remember what you told me when I first brought you back here. You didn’t know real from delirium. You didn’t tell anyone because you didn’t believe it yourself. That was an honest comment, wasn’t it?’
‘It was,’ Asher said. ‘But I still should have told you.’
‘I wouldn’t have believed you,’ Norrah said. ‘Until your little stunt with the noose, I never believed magic to be real. Even now, I am so exhausted I can tell myself this is a bad dream and still believe magic isn’t real.’
Asher snorted. ‘It’s a lot to take in, I know.’
‘Perhaps one day I’ll actually understand it,’ Norrah said. ‘Now that the rules have changed and we all need to adjust. There will be a busy time ahead. Years, probably.’
‘How much did Sara tell you?’ Asher asked. ‘About Lord Barque and everything underneath the town?’
‘She’s filled me in,’ Norrah said. ‘It seems Olive Delana hasn’t returned from wherever she disappeared to in that fight, but I have sent word to her sister of her crimes. I imagine the new Duchess will respect my decision to strip her rank once she hears of the damage. As for Lord Barque, he has already returned to Ralkauda and received sanctuary from his brother. I doubt Duke Barque will hear me out now.’
‘You never know,’ Asher mumbled. ‘I guess that means I’m not going home any time soon.’
Norrah frowned, and she suddenly looked ten times as tired as before, not meeting his eye as she sagged against the cot. ‘I’m sorry, Asher,’ she said.
Asher’s stomach churned.
‘Many people here have seen your attempt to save the town and its people, but many still think you are the force behind it. My protection will only do so much, and Evelyn has little power now. You will never see harm while you are in Dalvany, but I cannot allow you to stay until tensions can be eased.’
Asher nodded. He wasn’t surprised, and that surprised him. Perhaps part of him had already planned to take off into the mountains, to hide alone for a while where no-one would shoot him or try and string him up. ‘I understand,’ he said.
‘I will make preparations as soon as you are able to travel, for you and your strange friends.’ Norrah got to her feet and smoothed down her coat. She turned away from him, then paused. ‘This witchcraft of yours. Did it come from the events at Dalvany square?’
‘Yes,’ Asher said. ‘Why?’
‘I remember hearing stories as a child,’ Norrah said. ‘Telkite stories of magical protectors from another world. Stories of course, told by a civilisation neither of our Kingdom’s care about. Part of me wonders if this is not as secret as it appears. Or perhaps, you were right, and we have brought this doom upon ourselves.’
Before Asher could reply, she swept away, leaving him alone with the thought, and all it meant.
They were a strange band that met along the trading route in the grey light of dawn. Humans of all ages, all sizes, colours and nationalities waited by a long line of carts tied to impatient horses that were being hastily stacked with food and wheat, cages of chickens and goats, while collies ducked around their feet, overseeing the work. One cart was full of baskets and gifts, cakes and food and cards holding well wishes from secret thankful people who had conveniently left the streets empty for them. One raggedy old bear sat atop the pile, with a card pinned to a ribbon around its neck, covered in a childish scribble of men and women with swords and hiding a tuft of cotton that broke from a hole in the bear’s arm. The grey fog of morning made movement awkward and aching, and though many of the strange group had slings or casts or canes, all of them were eager to help with whatever was needed. Some of the people only looked like people from a distance, occasionally meeting eyes with bright, unnatural, glowing ones of their own and moving much to nimbly for bare feet and thin clothes.
If anyone were to wander into the trading district and look upon the band as they packed up and settled into their carts, it would have looked perfectly normal, like another supply run by hard-working people, who thought that it was a good chance to bring their children along, for some were perched up in the back of the carts with the dogs and groggily excited for adventure. The first cart in the line only held two men, one with a shock of curly black hair and a cane resting next to his crooked leg, and the other wearing a short green cape, with a strange hat that curved over his head and seemed to be made of bronze. The man with the cane tapped it against the back of the horse, and with a whinny and a clatter of hooves, the procession was off through the unguarded city gates. In the distance, an eerie, unearthly song rolled through the air like a wave curling into shore, calling out from somewhere distant and waiting for a chance to break free again.