Chapter Fifteen

Krissintha Arlonet Dar-Ghelain muttered a silent curse. She sat on a bed, on a straw filled mattress, looking down at the floor, failing to hold her tears back. The empty room didn’t offer any comfort or provide any distractions, and she had nothing to do but to wait and to curse fate.

She gasped, jerking her head to look at the door when someone knocked. Three knocks, a pause, then three knocks again. She let out a sigh of relief. She stood and walked to the door, her hand trembling as she pulled the bolt to unlock it.

What took you so long, Jevan?’ she demanded as the man walked in, locking the door behind him.

‘Apologies, Lady Krissintha,’ the man murmured, frowning. ‘Not easy to navigate the city with all that’s going on.’

‘Damn traitors. All of them.’ Krissintha hissed.

‘Well, in their eyes, we’re the traitors. Never forget that! Your life depends on it,’ Jevan said.

‘We’re loyalists,’ Krissintha said, sitting back down on the bed.

Jevan walked to the window at the opposite end of the room. He pulled the dirty curtain aside, peeked through, then let it fall back to obscure the view. It was still daylight, and the noises of the city were yet to die down.

‘Well, once loyalists lose, they’re no longer loyalists. They’re traitors,’ Jevan said.

‘You would call my father a traitor?’ she demanded.

‘I don’t. Everyone else does,’ Jevan said, shrugging. ‘Take it up with the new king if you wish.’

‘The new king …’ Krissintha spat, pouring all her hatred into the words ‘… had my family executed. The bastard!’

‘He had his own brother executed,’ Jevan commented, shrugging again. ‘There’s nothing we can do about it.’

‘How? How can you be so cold, Jevan? You served my father for long, and with honor,’ she said, glaring at him.

‘Hm. And look where it got me,’ he murmured.

‘What was that?’

‘Nothing, Lady Krissintha, nothing,’ he said, giving her a strange smile.

Krissintha wanted to yell at the retainer; how dare he speak to her so casually about the tragedy that had befallen not just her family, but the entire country? She took a deep breath, opened her mouth, but caught herself before she made that mistake. The walls weren’t thick in this inn, and who knew who was listening on the other side — the city was crawling with the so called “loyalists”. Traitors and murderers each and every one of them. They all deserved to be drawn and quartered. They should all be drawn and quartered. Unfortunately, with only a single retainer still loyal, she couldn’t make that happen, even if the retainer was a spiritualist.

Jevan pulled one of the two chairs in the room, sitting down, facing Krissintha, keeping his hand on the pommel of his sheathed sword.

‘Alright, listen!’ he said. ‘I’ve made the arrangements, we’re leaving tonight. The ship is called the Dalar’s Heart. The wharf is only a few streets down from here.’

‘You managed to … procure enough to pay the fare?’ she asked.

‘I’ve got the payment alright,’ Jevan said with a smile. ‘Get some sleep before then. I’ll wake you when it’s time.’

An urge to yawn came over Krissintha as soon as she heard the word “sleep”.

Krissintha was tired. She was hungry. She hadn’t had a decent meal for ages and she’d had very little sleep for the past few day. She wanted to sleep, but she was afraid to close her eyes: if she did, she’d have to see her father’s head on a pike, smiling at her, asking her to join him. She’d have to see her mother, hanging on a rope, naked, crying out to her, begging her to save her. She’d have to see her older brother, riddled with arrows, yelling at her to escape. And her imagination would feed her terrible images in her sleep: images of what could have happened to her younger brother. Not knowing was almost worse than knowing.

‘I can’t sleep,’ she said, looking down on the dirty, greasy floor.

‘Suit yourself, Lady Krissintha. But I do. I’ll take the bed,’ Jevan said and stood up.

‘What?’ she said, but before she could do or say anything in protest, Jevan laid down on the bed, pushing her aside.

She jumped up, glowering at the man.

‘How dare you?’ she demanded.

‘You don’t want to sleep and I need rest,’ he said with his eyes closed. ‘Take the chair and be ready!’

‘How dare you treat your lady like this?’

‘Take it up with the new king, Lady Krissintha!’ he murmured. ‘Now, let me sleep!’

Krissintha wasn’t sure what she should do. This wasn’t how a retainer of House Dar-Ghelain behaved. This wasn’t how Jevan behaved. He had always been a polite man, always treated her with the respect she deserved. She wanted to scold him, but she knew better than to make a commotion, and in the end Jevan was the only one left to help her escape the nightmare her country had become. It seemed she had to make some allowances. She sighed and sat down on the chair.

***

Krissintha woke with a start as she felt someone tapping her shoulder. She lifted her head, looking up at the blurry image of Jevan standing over her.

‘You’re drooling,’ he said. ‘Time to go.’

She had fallen asleep sitting on the chair, she realised. It was a mistake, but at least the nightmares hadn’t come to visit this time. She rubbed her eyes and wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her dress. She stared at the once clean and beautiful blue silk. It was grimy now and began to tear at places; she wondered if she should have given in to Jevan’s demand to put on some coarse and dreary woolen clothes. It was too late for that now. The ship was waiting, and they had to go. She stood up, stretching her limbs. Ah, a cup of tea would be nice. A bath would be nice. Unfortunately, simply wishing for things didn’t make them happen. Not any more, not since …

‘Ready?’ Jevan asked, putting his cape on.

‘Ready,’ she said.

She picked up the small bag, containing the few belongings she’d managed to save before they had to flee the estate. She held it up to Jevan.

‘I can’t protect you if my hands are full,’ he said, shaking his head, scowling.

She nodded and threw the bag over her shoulder.

***

The meager lights from shuttered windows and locked doors were barely enough to see by in the dark alleyway. Plenty of torches moved on the main streets — the nighttime patrols of the militia were frequent and they were everywhere. It seemed the damned traitors had expected loyalists to try to leave Thyssa via any and all port cities, Cago included.

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Jevan led the way, sneaking along the darkest, most deserted paths where even full moon failed to provide enough light to see. Jevan stopped occasionally, pushing her and himself into the shadows, hiding, and waiting for militiamen to pass by. At such times, she could momentarily see the faint, silvery shimmer of his familiar’s power coming and going on his arm and his fist: Jevan was ready for a fight should they be discovered.

Krissintha's father — like most lords — had been a spiritualist, but she didn’t know much about how it worked. But she knew that mere militiamen couldn’t afford the luxury of a familiar, and as such they were no match for Jevan, should it come to a fight. Krissintha thanked his late father for having the foresight to pay Terack’s Shrine, letting his retainers gain familiars. She wished it had been enough to resist the onslaught of the traitor armies, but it wasn’t, and here she was, rushing through the darkness like a thief.

She thought it shameful for a lady to flee like this, but there was nothing else she could do. Some other lords and ladies had stayed and offered a short-lived, token resistance, unable to accept reality — they had been quickly and ruthlessly sent to join their ancestors by the usurper’s forces. She’d often heard her father say that stubbornly holding onto one’s pride was a stupid thing to do, unless one had a strong army and plenty of money to back it up with. Krissintha was woefully short on both resources. So she had fled. She was sure this was what her father would have wanted, and she felt thankful that at least he had Jevan, the last, loyal retainer of her father.

The wharf wasn’t far now; she was sure that the dark shapes she saw at the end of the street were masts and sails. Just a few dozen paces up the street and they’d reach the wharf, and she could leave behind this new and horrid Thyssa that had killed her family.

Another three or four torch bearing militiamen disappeared around the corner at the top of the street. Jevan grabbed Krissintha’s arm and dragged her along for the final stretch, rushing towards the wharf before another militia group would appear.

The wharf was busy even at night. Plenty of people were loitering here, some lazing around, some pushing crates and barrels, or going up and down on gangplanks between ships and the stone wall of the wharf. Some sailors gathered in groups, throwing dice or playing cards at the lights of lanterns, exchanging coins and threats.

Jevan pulled Krissintha along to the piers, and they walked onto one of the sturdy, wooden platforms. Some sailors and dock workers stopped to look when they noticed there was a woman in their midst, but one look from Jevan and a dim, silvery flash of power on his hand told them it was better if they minded their own business.

The Dalar’s Heart rocked gently, midway up the pier, straining the ropes mooring it. Jevan came to a stop a few steps from the gangplank and spoke to a sailor who was sitting on a barrel.

‘Is Derik here?’ he asked the bearded man.

‘Who’re you?’ the man asked, looking them up and down.

‘Passangers,’ Jevan said.

‘Right. Wait ’ere!’

The man hopped off the barrel, run up the plank and disappeared on the ship.

Krissintha knew next to nothing about ships, but a few glances at the Dalar’s Heart and the loud creaking noises coming from it, made her feel like the ship would fall apart if she gave it a harsher look, or yelled a few curses at it.

‘Is this … safe?’ she asked, keeping her voice low.

‘Safer than staying,’ Jevan said curtly.

She wanted to present an argument against taking this particular ship, but the tone of the retainer left her with no doubt that this was the end of the discussion.

Figures appeared at the top of the plank. The sailor came back with two other men following him, stopping in front of Jevan. One of them wore a cuirass and carried a spear, the other had a short, curved sword at his hip — quite unlike the straight blades Thyssans preferred — and wore a tricorn hat.

‘Ah, Jevan, it’s you. I wasn’t sure if you’d come. And just in time,’ the man with the weird hat said.

‘Are you ready to leave, captain?’ Jevan asked.

The man looked over Jevan’s shoulder, squinting at Krissintha.

‘Payment?’ he asked.

‘As promised,’ Jevan said.

‘Good, good,’ the captain nodded, smiling at the retainer. ‘What are we waitin’ for then? Come aboard! Just about finished loadin’ our cargo, so let's get movin’!’

***

The moon was right above the Dalar’s Heart. Krissintha squinted, looking up at the main mast as she set foot on the deck. Someone was up there, climbing the rigging like a four legged spider. She wondered if that person could see anything up there, in fact, she wondered if it was common for ships to leave under the darkness of night at all. To her knowledge, leaving the harbor was a daytime activity, but she didn’t dwell on it. Perhaps this was one of those smuggling ships she’d read about, conducting their shady businesses and voyages under the cover of night. That was fine with her, as long as they’d leave Thyssa behind.

Sailors untied the ropes from the moorings, pulled the gangplank in, and it seemed they were ready to depart.

‘Oars up n’ push!’ someone yelled an order.

The ship trembled slightly as men below deck pushed the ship away from the pier with their long oars. Her eyes flicked to a light that appeared at the bow; she could see the shadow of a sailor climbing back onto the deck after hanging a lantern on the ship’s nose. She heard people yelling on the pier; a number of angry dock workers were hurling insults at the Dalar’s Heart and her captain. It wasn’t anything she should be concerned about, was it? Jevan didn’t pay any mind to it, so why should she? She grabbed onto the railing at the edge of the deck, standing next to Jevan, listening to the captain giving orders, watching the men climbing up the mast and unfurling the sails. The torchlights of the wharf and the pier slowly receded, and Krissintha finally felt safe enough to let out a long sigh of relief: Thyssa was behind her now.

***

Krissintha was leaning against the railing, watching the reflection of the moon on the dark and calm sea when the captain approached with the bearded, cuirass wearing man in tow.

‘We’ll be through the Kethian Strait before daybreak,’ the captain said to Jevan.

Krissintha turned around to face the men.

‘Good to know, Captain Derik,’ Jevan said, nodding knowingly. ‘How long till we reach Filante?’

‘Well, we ain’t exactly welcome along the coast of Kethesh, so we’ll have to pass Istre and Olok on the outer side, you know, just in case. So … six or seven days with good wind, ten or so otherwise.’

Krissintha was sure now: these people were making their fortunes by smuggling who knew what, and certainly not paying any taxes. Having to avoid the Kethesh coast wouldn’t have made sense otherwise. She didn’t mind, in fact she felt a little bit of satisfaction knowing that taxes or tariffs would not be going to Thyssa’s new king and his Kethian allies, not from this ship. As far as she was concerned, whatever fare Jevan had agreed to pay the smugglers, was worth it. Once in Filante, she would go see her relatives, and…

‘Now. About your fare,’ the captain said to Jevan, but looking and squinting at Krissintha.

‘All yours, captain. As agreed,’ Jevan said.

Jevan took a step away from her, and both the captain and the bearded man took a step closer to her. A knot started growing in Krissintha’s stomach out of a sudden. Her breathing quickened as she saw the sinister smile on the captain’s face, and the indifference on Jevan’s.

‘Jevan? What … is going on?’ she asked.

No-one answered her.

‘She’s good lookin’, you weren’t lyin’ about that,’ the captain said. ‘Did you say she’s a virgin? I thought lords and such marry off their daughters young.’

‘They do,’ Jevan agreed. ‘But this one’s an insufferable brat. As far as I know she scared off all her suitors, so … let’s say she untouched.’

‘Oh, good, good,’ the captain said, grinning.

Krissintha stared at the ship’s captain with wide eyes. The man shrugged, giving her a lopsided smile, then said,

‘If it makes you feel better, I’m sure they won't be putting you in the fields or the mines to work. Those Voysair pigs like a challenge.’

‘Jevan! I demand an answer! What is going on?’ Krissintha glared at the retainer, trying to ignore the captain's words and trying to sound calm and composed.

‘You haven’t figured it out yet, Lady Krissintha?’ Jevan said to her.

The loathing and distaste his voice carried when saying her name stunned her into silence. Her head became light, and it felt like the whole ship was starting to swirl around in a vortex. She opened her mouth, but her heart was beating in her throat instead of her chest, and only a few, short gasps made it through.

'Well, that’s touchin’ and all, but I’ll be takin’ the merchandise off your hands now,’ the captain said to Jevan.

‘As you wish, Captain,’ Jevan said, taking another step away from Krissintha.

The captain nodded to the bearded man, and the man stepped to her. Blood and anger rushed to Krissintha’s head. Pain, rage and fear once again melded into the same, single emotion she’d been forced to experience over and over again in the past months. It compelled her to act and it paralyzed her, all at the same time. The bearded man reached out to grab her; Krissintha only saw it from the corner of her eye, but it was enough to tip the scale, enough to make her move.

‘Jevan! You traitor!’ she screamed.

She lunged forward, swinging her arm at Jevan, but before the slap could connect with the traitorous retainer’s face, he caught her arm. Jevan didn’t say a word, lifted his other hand and delivered a backhanded slap.

Krissintha fell hard, sliding a few paces on the wet deck, her face burning with pain and anger.

‘Aah! That felt good,’ Jevan exhaled, smiling.

‘Oi, Jevan, don’t break the goods, eh,’ the captain complained and motioned the bearded man to get Krissintha.

‘Bruises go quickly,’ Jevan commented as casually as if talking about the weather.

‘True,’ the captain relented.

The bearded man grabbed Krissintha by her arm, pulled her up and began to drag her towards an open hatch on the deck. She was vaguely aware of a few sailors watching the spectacle, but no-one rushed to her aid, and the one she had been looking to for help until now had nothing but a cold glare to give her.