Reawakening Page 3

  “I give the orders,” Ia said flatly.

  He scowled. “A good soldier honors his commander. A good commander knows her soldiers’ strengths.”

  “Quoting the Book of the Dragon at me now, eh?” She grinned. “Might be nice to have someone who knows a bit of history along. I miss intelligent conversation when I’m out of the cloister house.”

  “A scholar?” Tarn said, surprised.

  She rolled her eyes at him. “Shai-dhakni, I told you.”

  “I do not know the word,” Tarn told her.

  “What, you don’t have the Daughters of Myrtilis up in the mountains?”

  “Myrtilis,” he repeated, remembering. He had known a Myrtilis once, a queen of battlemaids, a bright wand in battle.

  “Aye, you would know that name.” The cynicism fell from her face suddenly. “I wish I could have seen her once, the mother of our Order. We are all in her shadow.”

  “Battle Queen Myrtilis?” he asked.

  “The very one. They say she was just in judgment, wise in lore, and beyond any man’s sword in the battle line. We honor her and live in her image.” Then she quirked her head, the sincerity hidden again. “I could have sworn there was a cloister up Tarramos way, on the Silk Road.”

  Tarn shrugged. “From the highest mountains, am I. No towns.”

  “And what do you kill with that cleaver, up in the highest mountains?”

  “Bad things,” he told her and grinned. He probably showed too many teeth for human manners, because Ia blinked and something in her expression shifted and went speculative. Then she shook herself and said, “Nearly at this fool’s warehouse. Help me with the unloading, and I’ll give you a sword trial, if you think you can handle the long road through the desert.”

  “I like long roads,” he said calmly and thought of the defensive little desert spirit again. How surprised it would be to find him ensconced in the very heart of its domain.

  Chapter 4: Hiring

  HE PASSED Ia’s test with the sword, well enough to make her pant and swear as she held him off. When she lowered her sword, he nodded and stepped back, then bowed.

  “No need for company manners,” she rasped, wiping the sweat off her brow with her sleeve. “What’s your second weapon?”

  “Fire,” he said, calling a little wisp to dance across his fingertips.

  She snorted. “That might light a candle, strongman, but it won’t scare off a raiding party.”

  “No,” he agreed, and raised a circle of flame, head-high and a cubit thick, around the sparring ground.

  Ia let out a stream of curses that he memorized quickly. He always liked to have some soldiers’ cant at his command.

  “Put that out!” she finished, voice spiking.

  Tarn sighed. It felt warm and comfortable, like removing your helmet and shaking out your hair after battle. He was sick of keeping all that he was constrained and held in—

  He wasn’t expecting the bucket of water over his head.

  Snarling, he evaporated it into a cloud of steam and then, recalling himself, dragged his fires back in.

  Ia was still spitting fury, the bucket raised in her hands. Everyone else in the yard was looking toward him with either fascination or frightened eyes. What, had they never seen a spellsword raise a flame before?

  “Ianthe, dearest,” a weary voice said from the balcony above the yard. “Have you finally stumbled upon an affordable guild mage, and, if so, need I raise our insurance?”

  “This one’s no guild suckling,” Ia said, lowering her bucket. “We take him on, it’s for his sword.”

  “And what a frightfully nice sword it is,” the man on the balcony observed. He looked languid and pretty, but every fighter in the yard had fixed their attention on him. Tarn squinted up at him, taking in the embroidered silk robe and the long black hair, sleek and straight to his waist. He had fought beside a selkie prince just as pretty and elaborate, and Tarn had yet to meet anyone quite so vicious and committed when the fighting actually began. “I do hope it wasn’t looted. Customs officials can be so fussy about criminal records in employees.”

  “For my clan, it was forged,” Tarn said and lifted it in a salute. “Tarn Drake, out of Amel, seeking work in your employ.”

  “Not another of your silly reenactors, Ia darling. Will this one sulk when we find out he’s really a laundry clerk from the low quarter?”

  “Nah,” Ia said. “Proper mountain lad, this one, and he’s fair enough with that sword. Could take your challenge, I reckon.”

  “Oh, keep him, then, if it will amuse you. Find me three more less exotic specimens, and we’ll be ready for the road.”

  “Dawn departure, Sethan.”

  The vision in silk shuddered. “I don’t do dawn.”

  Ia grinned. “You don’t do road dust either, my pretty, and we’ll be stuck in traffic if we don’t get on the road early. Get your more manly and muscular side to hoist you over his shoulder, if you must. We’ll all enjoy the laugh.”

  He pouted at her. “Cruel Ia. Hire your pyromaniac, and let me be.”

  Ia waited until he had vanished inside and said, “There’s the boss. Sethan Lattimar.”

  “Aye,” Tarn said. He’d worked that much out.

  “Some men have a problem with his manner.”

  “Not I.”

  “Good,” she said. “He’s a friend. Oh, and don’t pick a fight with him. Before he met Cayl and settled down, he was a champion duelist.”

  “What’s his trade?”

  “Books, the rare and somewhat dangerous kind. He’s looking for desert poetry and lore on this trip—not many booksellers on this side of the desert carry the more obscure stuff.”

  “A whole caravan for books?”

  She shook her head. “Nah. Sethan hires the guards and plans the route, and other small traders buy a place in the line. We ride with thirty wagons, usually. Each guard gets assigned to three, and you stick with your traders if bad weather comes up or the caravan has to split for any reason. You’ll get assigned a cubic foot on one of your wagons for personal items and any small trade goods you buy. You want to trade anything bigger, you’ll have to negotiate directly with one of the traders for wagon space. Sethan assigns the wagons to make sure that at least one of them will have space for you to sleep under cover, but you’re welcome to bring your own tent if you don’t want to share.” She paused and added reflectively, “I do. They’re easy to store below the axles in the day, and it saves getting stuck in a small space with some farting merchant with bad breath.”

  “Sounds fair. On the road, what trouble might we face?”

  She pursed her lips. “More than we would have done ten years ago, if I’m being honest. There’s the usual threat from raiders. The wildlife doesn’t like big targets like us, though, unless easy game’s thin. The elementals are as restless as they are everywhere these days, but the local spirit has always been pretty friendly, the odd naughty mirage aside. Get a second pair of eyes to confirm any pretty white palaces that aren’t on the map, and don’t follow any naked men into the desert, and you’ll be fine there.”

  Tarn grinned. He would have that wicked sprite for his hoard, and what a treasure it would be. In the meantime, the chase would clearly be entertaining in itself.

  “The real problem is on the other side. We’ll be in Savattin territory then, and who knows what new laws they’ve forged since we were last there.”

  “Savattin?”

  “You wouldn’t know of them. Don’t have that kind of scum up in your mountain. Twenty years back, the Savattin were just a crazy mountain sect no one could even be bothered to shit on. Got themselves chased out of the Emirate with their beards on fire. Somehow they managed to go recruiting among the silk farmers in northern Tiallat. Bright Lady knows they had reasons to feel ill-treated, and the Savattin turned them into revolutionaries. They overran the capital twelve years ago, and now every poor soul in Tiallat bows to their god and follows their crazy commandments.”


  “A bad situation.”

  “Aye, and they’ve been making threatening gestures at the Emirate for a few years now. They need foreign cash too much to ban trade caravans, but they’re all crazy eyed about our evil, corrupted ways. Gets them all hot and breathless to arrest a foreigner for offending their religion.” She snorted contempt. “They’ve got a particular hate for folks like you and me and Sethan, so don’t go looking for a place to sheathe your sword while we’re there.”

  He would be leaving the caravan before they ever got that far, but he appreciated the kindness. “I shall keep my sword in my hand, and be satisfied.”

  She shot him a narrow-eyed look, but he kept his face solemn, watching her try to work out whether that had been a joke. At last, to spare her temper, he asked, “The job is mine?”

  “You’re hired,” she said and then nodded to the side. “Most of the guards are bunking with us tonight. Come and meet them.”

  Chapter 5: Meeting

  THE OTHER guards were a friendly group, relaxed and a little more eccentric than the warriors he had served with before.

  “Sethan’s a good man to work for,” one of them, Ellia, confided. She was lounging along a bench, stretching her legs up over her head in lazy, lithe stretches. She was tiny, with long dark hair and pouty lips, but muscles shifted below her skin with every move. “Not everyone will hire women, let alone sapphires like Jancis and me, but he looks out for those of us who don’t fit the muscle-bound thug part of the usual job description. He reckons we’re more likely to fight for someone who respects us.”

  Tarn wasn’t sure he agreed with that. Once a battle began, you fought or you died. Nonetheless, he just asked, “Sapphires?”

  “Don’t let Ia hear you using that one,” Ellia’s partner, Jancis, advised. She ran an affectionate hand along Ellia’s tensed thigh. “She thinks it’s demeaning, old Myrtie that she is.” At Tarn’s puzzled look, she clarified, “We’re sapphires. Sethan and Cayl, and you, if I understood Ia right, are rubies.”

  Ah. He considered it and then asked, “Why?”

  Ellia curled up from the bench to link her arms around Jancis’s neck. Pressing her cheek to her partner’s, she cooed, “Because we’re precious.”

  “And we’re sparkly,” Jancis said and batted her eyelashes. “Gam’s teeth, El, let go. You weigh a ton from that angle.”

  Tarn pondered it before he asked, “I’m sparkly?”

  Ellia descended into a fit of lighthearted giggles, muffling her face against Jancis’s side. Jancis rolled her eyes but cupped her hand gently around her lover’s head. Just as solemnly, she said, “You might want to work on it a little.”

  “I’ll practice,” he promised. “Disliked by many, is it?”

  “Ah, it’s not too bad here,” Ellia said. “Anywhere west of the mountains and north of the desert, people are fairly tolerant. We’re the land of a thousand gods, see. Makes people learn to get along.”

  “Or maybe it’s because we’re under the dragon’s wing,” Jancis said. “When the dragon lords fought off the demon kings, back at the start of time, their armies came from this corner of the world. We were on the side of good, humanity united against the monsters. Maybe a bit of it came down the bloodlines.”

  Ellia groaned. “No. Not history. Go and be boring with Ia. Who cares about dead dragons?”

  Another of the guards came over to join them. He was almost as tall as Tarn, all long limbs and golden hair curling against his shoulders. Tarn had seen him practicing earlier, his swords flashing with astounding speed and grace. He must have been twenty or so, and he exuded youth in the way only humans could, bright and inquisitive and fearless. Now, he wrinkled his nose at Ellia, and said, “Haven’t you heard? Half of Tarenburg swear they saw a dragon fly over a few months ago.”

  “Half of Tarenburg are permanently drunk,” Jancis told him. “I should know. I come from the sober half.”

  The young swordsman turned big blue eyes on Tarn. “I swear, a dragon. You believe me, don’t you?”

  “The dragons are still sleeping,” Tarn said evasively. He had never even considered who might have seen him pass when he had made his desperate flight into the desert.

  “All the other old spirits have been waking,” the pretty warrior boy argued. “Why not the dragons?”

  “The rest haven’t been sleeping, exactly,” Jancis argued. “Not according to Sethan. Some were active anyway, like Alagard down south, some went dormant long after the dragons fell, and the rest were just ignoring us until something set them all aflutter. Some became gods.”

  “Details.” He sighed, flapping his hand. “Fine. No dragons.”

  “Life’s just so boring for you, isn’t it?” Ellia said, blowing him a kiss. “Poor Dit.”

  He pouted and then darted a glance sideways at Tarn, wetting his lips. “Speaking of being all aflutter, hello there, friend. Dittan Quickblade at your service. Call me Dit.” He bowed over Tarn’s hand, seizing it long enough to brush his lips teasingly over Tarn’s knuckles. “And you are?”

  “Tarn, out of Amel,” he said, amused by the flirtation. He’d forgotten how easy human men could be.

  “So there are still people in the dragon’s hills,” Dit murmured, easing closer. “Were you named after the dragon Tarnamell?”

  “Something like that.”

  Dit turned to smirk at the girls. “See, here’s the king of the dragons come out of the north to swing his sword with us. Miracles never cease.”

  “Not another one,” Ellia groaned. “Am I the only one who cares how the world works here and now?”

  Dit ignored her. “So, welcome to the twinkly guard, Tarn, where we all sparkle like stars. In case the girls didn’t tell you, that goes for the traders too. Everyone who rides with Sethan is a sparkler or an ally, so there’s really no need to be shy.” He gave Tarn a long, slow glance, starting at the toes and working up. “Not that you have anything to be shy about.”

  Jancis snorted. “You’re such a slut, Dit. Let the man get his feet in the door before you offer to polish his sword.”

  “I’m just staking my claim first,” Dit said cheerfully. “Every single man in the room is looking this way, you know. You’re the most interesting thing to walk through the door in days, dragon king.”

  “A simple traveler,” Tarn said, studying Dit. His cock was stirring at the youth’s blatant interest. In his true form, he was above such needs, but one of the pleasures that drew his kind to assume human form was the chance to experience those urges that drove humans. He had always enjoyed it, the hot press and flush of body against body, strength against strength, the intimacy and the exhilaration.

  It had been so long, too, since he had been touched.

  “Let the man shake the dust from his shoes before you get your hands down his hose,” Jancis said. “Don’t let this one scare you off, Tarn. He’s got a good heart, for all he thinks with his cock.”

  “Tell her to stop being mean, Ellia,” Dit complained. “There’s nothing wrong with enjoying sex.”

  “I, too, am fond of it,” Tarn said gravely. He liked his men quick and confident, and Dit was a tempting dish. He had no desire to offend anyone so soon, though, and he wasn’t sure how the other guards would take it if he just threw the youth over his shoulder and went looking for a flat surface.

  “Be fond of it after dinner, Tarn,” Ellia said, not bothering to hide her amusement. “There’s the rest of the guard to meet, and you may even find someone prettier than Dit here.”

  “There’s no one prettier than me,” Dit said blithely. “At least, not on the ruby side of the table. You ladies are, of course, both my infinite superiors.”

  Dit stuck by Tarn’s side throughout the meal, although he didn’t directly proposition him again. All three of Tarn’s new friends proved to be good company and introduced him warmly to the rest of the guards. Even Ia gave him a short nod of approval when she saw what company he’d found. The food was plain but filling, the ale just
strong enough to relax him, and the warm rush of friendship and camaraderie in the air was as heady as the drink. It made him look at Dit again, considering his offer with more and more interest. How would it feel to get his hands on bare skin once more, to hear a lover groan his name in ecstasy?

  Catching his look, Dit flushed. He leaned forward to murmur into Tarn’s ear, “The offer still stands. I know a private place.”

  Tarn considered it. They had no watches to keep yet, and he had kept company with the rest long enough that it might not cause offense if he slipped away. It would be very, very good to take a lover again.

  Dit’s face fell slightly. “Can’t blame me for trying, eh?”

  Tarn had obviously hesitated too long. Quickly, he reached out and curled his wide hand around Dit’s hip. It was warm through the cloth, yielding slightly in the way that promised soft strength in bed.

  Soon, he would be gathering his new hoard and building a fresh citadel in the hot depths of the desert. This boy would never submit to the rules of the hoard; he was too magpie-quick and restless. The hoard, though, was in the future, and right now Tarn was tempted.

  “There is one I will be courting soon,” he said carefully. “My heart, it is not on offer. I wish no bad blood among my fellows, for the sake of one night’s pleasure.”

  Dit’s grin flashed out, bright and open. “No trouble on my side. Consider it a welcome to the fold.”

  “Then my pleasure is yours,” Tarn said and leaned back a little, making sure to flex his shoulders so his muscles rolled. “Name your time and place.”

  “Do excuse us, ladies,” Dit said, not looking away from Tarn’s face. “You—with me, right now.”

  “Hasty,” Tarn commented.

  “Do you know how bored I’ve been waiting for this caravan to set off?” Dit asked. “If I have to sit here and watch these two make eyes at each other for one more minute, I shall go mad. No offense intended, ladies.”

  “Then I am glad to entertain you,” Tarn told him, reaching forward to cup his hand around the back of Dit’s neck and brush his thumb across the pulse in Dit’s throat. “Lead on.”