Tivi's Dagger Read online

  They knelt together and raised their glasses to the sky, drank as one, and then it was done.

  When the elder monks had gathered their mats and retreated back inside the main building, Kari stood for a moment staring after them, touching the tips of his hair with a distant expression on his face. Stripped of his monk’s robes he looked so different, so much younger with the shorter hair. He had clearly forgotten I was there and was looking so bemused that I had the sudden thought it would be us who would have to guide him, rather than the other way around.

  I went over to where he stood and put my hand on his shoulder. “Are you well?”

  He swallowed a couple of times before gesturing around with a vague sweep of his hand. “Ah, Ned! I am trying very hard not to appear so sorrowful! This monastery has been my whole life. It will be a wrench to leave them, especially my grandmother, for she was ever formidable when we passed through Khar Tam together. But the feeling will pass, as do all things. And anyhow, I’ll return to them in time.” He turned to me and smiled a bit too brightly. “I must pack the last of my belongings. When you’ve eaten and gathered yourselves, I will be waiting.”

  He bowed and left me to my thoughts as the wind picked up and blew a shower of dead leaves across the gravel. The goat bleated and the birds sang overhead. Something caught my eye, flopping over the toe of my boot. I knelt down. It was a dark lock of Kari’s discarded hair, soft and still damp from his morning ablutions. I wound the curl around my finger from root to tip. It was soft and smooth and I had the feeling that it would somehow bring me luck. Curling it into a tight coil, I slipped the ringlet into the locket I wore around my neck. My grandmother’s likeness glared out at me, the knot-browed frown of the devout, so like Brin’s. The coil of hair hid her expression nicely and I snapped the locket shut and tucked it back under my shirt.

  It was cold against my heart, for a second.

  ***

  The monks had provided so much breakfast that by the time we finally set off, I felt bloated and idle. Mother Kiti had offered Brin some bottles of wine for the journey, which – much to everyone’s disappointment – he had refused. My spirits dipped as I contemplated what lay ahead, all of which was to be endured in a condition of unwelcome sobriety. A foot-numbing trudge through a land full of poisonous creatures and mistrustful inhabitants – not to mention the apparently treacherous cavernous pass Brin had neglected to inform us of – to a little-known shrine in the back arse of nowhere, where I would kneel to the Thirteen, none of whom I believed in, and force words of penance I did not mean to spill from my mouth, all in order to satisfy my brother.

  It was remarkable how firmly Brin believed that I would return to Lis a changed man – not the same wretch who would, after having visited the holiest of sites, resume drinking and fornicating as I had every intention of doing. Brin’s convictions had always been his strength and his tragedy. He had fully believed the Protectors would welcome him back into the fold right up until the moment they stripped him, held him down, and forced the burning brand against his flesh. For a moment I felt sorry for him, but then I stumbled on a stone and wrenched my ankle. When I’d limped off the pain, I trailed sullenly behind the group, cursing my brother once again and feeling more than sorry for myself.

  What would they say at the Duck and Swan if they could see me now? Nedim Melchion, heir to the Melchion title and fortune, a desirable bachelor in his prime who had the pick of the most beautiful and discreet women the city had to offer – not to mention the finest wardrobe – now to be seen trudging along behind a donkey on a rocky mountain path sporting muddied leathers and a dismal brown pilgrim’s tunic. The situation could not be any worse. I would be a laughing stock, and would surely not hear the end of jokes about “filthy adventurers” – the travelling, sword-for-hire types upon whom the nobility of Azmara looked down from great heights.

  I was no stranger to travel, but even in the most basic surroundings I had always prided myself on maintaining at least a modicum of style and grooming. From what I had learned from others who had undertaken such a journey, it appeared that pilgrims were required to show their devotion by being dirty and unkempt at all times, concerned only with spiritual matters. Taking in the mountain landscape around me, I comforted myself with the thought that at least there were few about who would see me in such a dismal condition.

  Lana was striding along at the front with Brin and Kari while Kel led the donkey back down to the bottom of the path, where Matativi’s statue sat staring blindly into the distance, the dagger tucked once more behind its back. We turned left onto a narrow path which maintained a gentle downhill trajectory. The air was lush and smelt of rain on pine leaves and the mist had lifted a little, revealing thick forest to the left side and a plunging drop on the other. When the pebbles I kicked went over the edge, their fall was a distant rattle.

  Snippets of conversation drifted to my ears over the crunch of my boots and the song of morning birds.

  “So you know a little of our language,” Kari was saying to Lana.

  “When I was a girl my family employed a nanny who hailed from these parts. She spoke of Methar often and sadly, as if she could never return home. I never really understood why.”

  Kari scratched his chin, deep in thought. “Perhaps she was a criminal or an apostate, an outcast. Only the truly desperate among us seek employment in Lis.”

  Brin’s hands formed fists, but he said nothing.

  Lana tugged at her long braid thoughtfully. “Perhaps. But I do not understand. We also do not favor your God, yet you freely allow us passage through your land.”

  Kari seemed to consider Lana’s words for a moment. “There is an old saying here, selire meteen. It means something like look to your own. The affairs and beliefs of outsiders do not concern us. But for those who have turned their backs on our Lady, Methar can be a cold place.”

  “Perhaps it is not so different from Lis after all,” Lana said with a sidelong glance at my brother, then began making safer conversation about the beautiful scenery around us and the different birds and beasts she hoped to see on our journey. Thoroughly depressed, I tuned out Lana’s gay chatter and listened to the rush of a nearby stream and the silence of the mountains that loomed all around us.

  On a normal day back in Azmara I would not yet have arisen from my bed. The servants would be laying out the finest silks and leathers for me to don before I would indulge in a long and lazy lunch on my balcony, gazing out over the harbor where the trading boats were docked, a hive of colorful activity. When the wind blew in from the east, it would carry the scent of spices and fruit and jasmine. In the evening I would make my way to my private rooms at the Duck and Swan where my friends — men and women like me, heirs to nobles, idle and beautiful and completely lacking in devotion — would be lounging on the plush cushions, eating fat purple grapes from golden bowls. The innkeep would serve the finest smuggled wines and any woman I chose, and then the evening would begin — drinking games, filthy jokes that would have made the Protectors’ ears wither and fall off, culminating in some wholesome bedplay, should the whim seize us. All of which I was supremely talented at, and enjoyed immensely.

  The beauty of being born into money meant that as long as I took a few rudimentary precautions, none of Lis’s harsh Immorality laws would ever apply to me. If I’d been a believer, I would have kissed the feet of all thirteen Gods in gratitude for my privilege. The Protectors were powerful, but they did not have enough men to prevent all the land’s sins. To compensate, they employed private citizens as their eyes and ears, and a coin purse slipped into a pocket could render them blind and deaf in no time.

  I was so deep in my memories of those wonderful nights at the Duck and Swan that I had not noticed that Kari had fallen into step beside me until he spoke.

  “You seem troubled, tiyal. Are you not looking forward to visiting the shrine?”

  I shrugged. “You are not the only one forced along on this little trip, Kari.”

 
He smiled. “I was not forced, exactly. It will be a good experience for me, to be out in the world without my grandmother. She’s of the opinion that it’s not possible for one who has never experienced love in all its forms to serve Matativi fully. In that, I suppose she’s correct.”

  “So your grandmother has sent you forth in order to get laid?” I glanced at him, amused. “I wish I’d had such grandparents.”

  As my locket swung against my chest, I contemplated my maternal grandmother for a second; her glaring likeness was still fresh in my mind. A witch, once, who had used her powerful magic for healing. I recalled my visits to her home as a small boy, when her living room smelt of herbs both sweet and pungent, and incense burned constantly in an earthenware bowl. Then one day the Protectors had broken into her home and taken her away. When she came back, she was as devout as Brin had ever been. She had renounced her former life and spent most of her time in the Temple until the day she died. The thought of her encouraging me toward earthly love was…well, unthinkable.

  “Perhaps she has,” Kari replied, his cheeks pinking slightly. “In any case, love touches us in a multitude of ways. Our language has many words for it. Perhaps we will both come to know them better, Ned.”

  Bound by Brin’s Rite to remain silent on almost every topic, I said nothing to Kari of my grandmother and contented myself with a sideways glance at our comely guide. He had cheered up a lot and was looking around the world with curious, wide eyes. There was a comfortable silence as we followed the path further down into the ravine, where the foliage of the trees became more lush and soaked with the night’s rains.

  “So tell me of Lis,” he said eventually. “I have read what I could of its history, but the archives at the monastery pre-date the Second Splintering, and have not been updated this hundred-year.”

  My boots nipped uncomfortably across the tops of my feet. I thought of my soft slippers lying where I’d left them beside the bed, and let out a heartfelt sigh as I considered Kari’s words. “Lis is a country of factions, bound by trade and currency, while ruled and policed by those who believe their laws are Divine. It bubbles like a careless alchemist’s potion, threatening to boil over at any time. But at the same time, it can be a wonderful place to live if you are born into the right circumstances, such as I have been.”

  “And yet, here you are.”

  I stared at my boots glumly. “And yet, here I am indeed.”

  “Why?”

  “I am bound not to speak of these things, Kari. I am sorry. In any case I would not tire you with my complaints.” I looked around, determined to change the topic. “Your land is stunningly beautiful.”

  “Thank you. Perhaps this journey will give me a taste for further travel. The world is so big, and full of surprises.” He smiled again and I was struck once more by how stunningly beautiful he was. He patted me on the shoulder and trotted to the front of our party to rejoin Brin and Lana, who were about to reach a fork in the path.

  If he’d been a woman…Then a thought struck me and I nibbled on my thumb, contemplating the situation. Perhaps I would manage to have some fun on this cursed pilgrimage after all. The risk of discovery was certainly something to ponder — bound by the Rite as I was — but it would certainly give me something besides my blistered feet to think about. We were no longer in Lis, and Brin was no longer a Protector. And I knew in my heart that my brother would prefer to die than wield a sword against me.

  Like most brothers, I mused, we loved each other — but not often.

  It would not be the first time I had considered lying with another man, but since such liaisons were punishable by execution under the Divine Laws of Lis, I had never dared to take the chance, even among my tight circle of friends. They mostly hailed from similar noble backgrounds and preferred, as I did, to fall to their knees before a lover, not a priest. Among them I knew there were a few who were definitely curious about such activities, but we had all heard the whispered laments about that well-known friend of a friend who had fallen into temptation only to find out later (usually after the wretch had taken his pleasure) that the handsome youth who had infiltrated the group was one of the Protectors’ paid tell-tales. It was also a tried and tested method for one noble to besmirch the character of a rival, and as sole heir with but two jobs to do in life — marry and father a son — I could ill afford to have such rumors in circulation. Much as I loved my homeland, I was well aware of the sad fact that its capital was a place where no one could truly be trusted.

  With a great deal of regret I recalled once more the burly pirate who had presented himself to Lana and myself some years previously, as we lazed in our shack by the white sandy beach on one of the Pirates’ Isles. We’d just awakened to a pleasingly plump pouch of extra coin under our pillow after a night of rum and pin-finger with a local bar owner and his bunch of merry companions, and the sun was already high in the sky. With time to kill before our ship returned to deposit its booty, the days stretched long and lazy. Having taken some time to recover from the blood sickness that was rife in that part of the world, the fellow clearly felt himself restored by rest and a diet of fresh fish and fruit, and was ready for action. He was a fine example of a man, muscles like whipcords tapering toward a taut waist; huge shoulders and thick thighs and a prick to match. He had leaned against the doorframe, unashamedly naked, while Lana and I gaped at the glorious sight.

  His voice was deep and melodic, his accent tinged with the many languages he’d acquired in his travels. “So, which one of you first?” he’d said with a lazy, white-toothed smile.

  Lana had looked at me with a wicked smile. “Shall we?”

  Even so far from Lis’s shores I’d found myself hesitating, to some cost.

  Lana had no such qualms. “Well then, Ned, if you are not in the mood for a donkey ride then you can make yourself useful and fetch some food for dinner,” she'd cried and sprung out of bed, rubbing her hands with glee.

  The shrieks of uninhibited joy which had emanated from the captain’s creaking shack some minutes later made me sick with jealousy, but I could not bring myself to enter that hut. When Lana finally returned, smiling beatifically, I listened to her excited tales of the pirate’s prowess with his sword with much regret, and vowed that should such an opportunity present itself again in the future I would certainly strive to take advantage of it. He was already packing his things to leave, much to Lana’s sorrow, so there would be no second chance.

  With renewed energy I quickened my step and caught up with Kari and Brin, giving our guide my most winning smile, which he returned happily. My heart began to thump with excitement and the backs of our hands brushed as we walked, once, twice, and a third time. He did not increase the distance between us but seemed to walk more closely by my side and I could almost feel the warmth of his body.

  Kari’s grandmother had sent him into the world to experience love in all its forms. Would I be the one to show it to him? Only time would tell. Our hands touched once more and he gave me a dazzling smile which only served as fuel to my fantasies. I smiled back and promised myself that this time, there would be no hesitation.

  ***

  The day passed without incident and we arrived at the village just before nightfall. It was a sleepy cluster of wooden homes nestling at the foot of a high peak, beside a rushing river that plunged over a waterfall just underneath a red-arched bridge. Candles were burning at the windows and there did not seem to be much going on. A battered wooden sign welcomed us to Kalati Town, population eighty-nine souls.

  A pair of statues showing both faces of Matativi greeted us at the other side of the bridge. Kari knelt at the feet of each and said a silent prayer before leading us toward the largest building, which appeared to be an inn. Baskets of bright flowers and shiny-leaved creepers hung from hooks on the wooden façade, and there was a faint sound of a stringed instrument and smell of roasted meat and beer emanating from within.

  I was weary to the bone and longing for a comfortable bed, but sti
ll I wondered if I could sneak in a glass or two of wine and perhaps take the opportunity to talk to Kari some more. Glancing at my brother, I noticed the dark circles under his eyes. He must be exhausted, having walked so far in such heavy armor.

  But all my hopes were dashed when he marched us inside, having relegated Kel to donkey duty once more.

  “Ned and I will share a room,” he announced. “The rest of you can make your own arrangements.”

  My shoulders slumped and I looked around, bored already. There were few customers at the bar. Just a couple of toothless old men whose wrinkled, weathered faces told of a harsh life led outdoors in scalding cold. A stout, blonde-haired woman in silver armor was cradling a tankard of beer and staring pensively into the fire crackling in the hearth. A bushy hound lay by her feet like a huge, breathing rug. A buck-toothed youth sat at a table, spooning chunks of stew into his mouth as if he had not seen food for some time while the girl who played the stringed instrument — a crescent-moon-shaped piece of carved wood almost like a small and crude harp — hummed along to the melancholy tune.

  “If this is what passes for a party in this land then I look forward to the caverns,” Lana whispered beside me.

  It did not take long for Kari to make the required arrangements. He returned with a set of long iron keys, one of which he handed to my brother. “The innkeep bids you welcome. There is an outhouse with a hot spring if you would like to bathe, and they are serving stew for dinner.”

  Brin took the key, stifling a yawn. “Perhaps later.”

  A hot bath and a bellyful of stew sounded like the best idea in the world. “Brin, I’m hungry and dirty. May I have permission to bathe and eat before joining you in our room?”