Phoenix Unbound
Page 26
“Very good.” It wasn’t a boast. He’d spilled enough blood in the arena to float a ship.
A line appeared between her eyebrows as a thought occurred to her. “Why is it I’ve only seen you the past three years during the choosing of the women?”
Her question was a fair one, and he had nothing to hide in that matter. “I had no interest in taking part until then.” And sometimes not even the opportunity. The empress had favored him for a long time, delighting in degrading him, whether by means of combat, rape, or false hope. So while there had been nothing he could do to help the Flowers of Spring or change the fate that awaited them, he sympathized with their plight. The Empire spared no one, man or woman.
Gilene’s question brought him back to the present. “What changed your mind?”
“You did.” He allowed himself a small smile when her eyebrows rose. “I saw you the first time when the guards were taking me to Herself. At first I thought your illusion a trick of the light or maybe a leftover from a blow to the head when I fought a bout in the Pit. I thought nothing of it, but I remembered and made sure I watched the Flowers arrive the next year. Tricks of the light aren’t that predictable. Nor are the visions caused by head wounds. Hanimus gave me a boon the second and third year, allowing me to watch the immolation. I couldn’t believe it at first—an agacin wielding fire right under the Empire’s nose, and they, all blind to your deception.”
Her mouth curved down. “You began to plan.”
He nodded. “And here we are.” He had told her he still needed her to regain power in his clan but never explained the why or how of it. If she asked, he’d tell her, though she’d balk at his explanation. No one liked being used.
The streets around them were quiet. A few people traveled these more isolated avenues, though none seemed to notice the couple sheltering in the tucked-away alcove. Still, Azarion kept an eye on their surroundings, watching for Kraelian soldiers or any passerby with an overdeveloped curiosity and underdeveloped sense of survival.
Gilene continued with her questions. “Why do your people worship fire witches?”
“They aren’t worshipped, but they are esteemed. Agacins are the spirit of Agna made flesh. She’s the goddess we worship, the holiest of all the gods worshipped by the Savatar.”
“I don’t know this Agna, and I don’t worship her.”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. You’re one of her handmaidens. She’s chosen to bless you with the gift of fire.”
She gave a derisive snort. “Is that what you call it? A blessing? She can keep her blessings.”
Azarion tensed. Gilene’s irreverent ingratitude bordered on blasphemy. He hoped Agna wasn’t listening to one of her priestesses decry her gift.
The biting tone of her replies emphasized the resentment she carried for her role as a Flower of Spring. He’d learned quickly enough during their brief negotiations that she loathed the role she played every year. Who wouldn’t? Yet still she did it, and even now had done her best to escape him so she might return to Beroe and do it all over again in a year’s time. “Why do you shoulder this burden for Beroe?”
Her gaze took on a farseeing aspect, as if she no longer saw him but instead some memory. “Because I have to. It became my duty once the witch before me became too crippled to attend the Rites. Sometimes you do the thing you hate so others don’t have to, whether it’s from love, guilt, or blackmail.” She paused to level a condemning stare on him. “No other woman in Beroe is safe from fire. It would be wrong and cowardly of me to let them burn when I can go in their place and survive. It doesn’t mean I have to like it just because I’m willing to accept it.”
Her actions made more sense now. He admired her commitment as well as her bravery. What she subjected herself to was a horror few would want to suffer once much less several times. “Does your family know how you feel? Beroe itself?”
Her sardonic smile lacked any humor. “Of course they know, and it doesn’t matter. I’m not the first fire witch born in Beroe, and I won’t be the last. The village fathers protect Beroe.” Her pinched features drew even tighter. “By whatever means they must.”
A terrible legacy, an ominous hint. “The witch who came before you, she taught you how to summon fire and create illusion?”
Gilene rubbed a hand across her eyes. “Yes, just as I’ll teach the girl who will come after me.” Her eyes focused more sharply on him once more. “Do you understand why I have to go home? If I’m not in Beroe by next spring, the slavers will take another woman to burn in the Rites, and she will die. The village elders will punish my family if I don’t return and give the Empire my sister or one of my nieces.”
His captive was a prisoner of her birthplace, bound by the chains of familial devotion and threat. He almost regretted taking her. Almost. “I will return you to Beroe before that happens.”
She slapped her thighs and growled her frustration. “My gods, are you not hearing what I’m telling you? I can’t go with you to the Stara Dragana!”
“Keep your voice down.” She glared but stayed quiet. “I heard you, and I understand why you need to go back, but it doesn’t change the fact you have to come with me.” He ignored her angry snort. “My father is a clan chief,” he said. “An ataman. As the ataman’s only son, his leadership would pass to me when he died. When he became ill, my cousin had some of his friends attack me, beat me until I passed out, and sell me to Kraelian slavers. All so he wouldn’t have to challenge me for the chieftainship if my father didn’t survive. I intend to reclaim my birthright, and to do so I will need an agacin by my side. The Savatar recognize succession through blood tanistry—worthiness of a successor based on combat. If my cousin weren’t the coward he is, he would have challenged me to combat for the right to rule the clan. With me gone, he needed only the approval of the clan atamans and the agacins to become an ataman himself. However, if I return with an agacin who supports my claim to take back the chieftainship, they will be forced to allow me to challenge my cousin, because it comes with Agna’s blessing. I can demand the right of combat to retake the chieftainship.”
She hunched away from him and turned her head so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “I want no part of this struggle between you and your relative.”
He coaxed her back to him with a finger on her chin. “Help me regain my place as ataman, and I swear on the spirits of all my ancestors I will return you to Beroe before the slavers arrive next spring.”
Disbelief was stamped on every part of her body and face. “And why would you keep your word once you’ve gained your prize?”
“Because, despite what you might think, I have honor.”
Acerbic laughter greeted that statement. It died as quickly as it erupted. “Do I truly have a choice?”
“If you want to see Beroe again? No.”
She shook her head. “Honesty for once. There’s hope for you yet.”
He swallowed back a cheer at the thread of agreement in her voice. “Will you help me?”
“As I really have no choice, then yes.”
“Do I have your word you won’t try to escape again?”
“Absolutely not.”
He hadn’t expected a promise, so her reply didn’t surprise him. “Then we know where we stand with each other.” He settled back against the wall, feeling the hard thumping of his heart calm a little. “You’re a brave woman,” he said. “A bitter one, but brave.”
A line appeared between her eyebrows as a thought occurred to her. “Why is it I’ve only seen you the past three years during the choosing of the women?”
Her question was a fair one, and he had nothing to hide in that matter. “I had no interest in taking part until then.” And sometimes not even the opportunity. The empress had favored him for a long time, delighting in degrading him, whether by means of combat, rape, or false hope. So while there had been nothing he could do to help the Flowers of Spring or change the fate that awaited them, he sympathized with their plight. The Empire spared no one, man or woman.
Gilene’s question brought him back to the present. “What changed your mind?”
“You did.” He allowed himself a small smile when her eyebrows rose. “I saw you the first time when the guards were taking me to Herself. At first I thought your illusion a trick of the light or maybe a leftover from a blow to the head when I fought a bout in the Pit. I thought nothing of it, but I remembered and made sure I watched the Flowers arrive the next year. Tricks of the light aren’t that predictable. Nor are the visions caused by head wounds. Hanimus gave me a boon the second and third year, allowing me to watch the immolation. I couldn’t believe it at first—an agacin wielding fire right under the Empire’s nose, and they, all blind to your deception.”
Her mouth curved down. “You began to plan.”
He nodded. “And here we are.” He had told her he still needed her to regain power in his clan but never explained the why or how of it. If she asked, he’d tell her, though she’d balk at his explanation. No one liked being used.
The streets around them were quiet. A few people traveled these more isolated avenues, though none seemed to notice the couple sheltering in the tucked-away alcove. Still, Azarion kept an eye on their surroundings, watching for Kraelian soldiers or any passerby with an overdeveloped curiosity and underdeveloped sense of survival.
Gilene continued with her questions. “Why do your people worship fire witches?”
“They aren’t worshipped, but they are esteemed. Agacins are the spirit of Agna made flesh. She’s the goddess we worship, the holiest of all the gods worshipped by the Savatar.”
“I don’t know this Agna, and I don’t worship her.”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. You’re one of her handmaidens. She’s chosen to bless you with the gift of fire.”
She gave a derisive snort. “Is that what you call it? A blessing? She can keep her blessings.”
Azarion tensed. Gilene’s irreverent ingratitude bordered on blasphemy. He hoped Agna wasn’t listening to one of her priestesses decry her gift.
The biting tone of her replies emphasized the resentment she carried for her role as a Flower of Spring. He’d learned quickly enough during their brief negotiations that she loathed the role she played every year. Who wouldn’t? Yet still she did it, and even now had done her best to escape him so she might return to Beroe and do it all over again in a year’s time. “Why do you shoulder this burden for Beroe?”
Her gaze took on a farseeing aspect, as if she no longer saw him but instead some memory. “Because I have to. It became my duty once the witch before me became too crippled to attend the Rites. Sometimes you do the thing you hate so others don’t have to, whether it’s from love, guilt, or blackmail.” She paused to level a condemning stare on him. “No other woman in Beroe is safe from fire. It would be wrong and cowardly of me to let them burn when I can go in their place and survive. It doesn’t mean I have to like it just because I’m willing to accept it.”
Her actions made more sense now. He admired her commitment as well as her bravery. What she subjected herself to was a horror few would want to suffer once much less several times. “Does your family know how you feel? Beroe itself?”
Her sardonic smile lacked any humor. “Of course they know, and it doesn’t matter. I’m not the first fire witch born in Beroe, and I won’t be the last. The village fathers protect Beroe.” Her pinched features drew even tighter. “By whatever means they must.”
A terrible legacy, an ominous hint. “The witch who came before you, she taught you how to summon fire and create illusion?”
Gilene rubbed a hand across her eyes. “Yes, just as I’ll teach the girl who will come after me.” Her eyes focused more sharply on him once more. “Do you understand why I have to go home? If I’m not in Beroe by next spring, the slavers will take another woman to burn in the Rites, and she will die. The village elders will punish my family if I don’t return and give the Empire my sister or one of my nieces.”
His captive was a prisoner of her birthplace, bound by the chains of familial devotion and threat. He almost regretted taking her. Almost. “I will return you to Beroe before that happens.”
She slapped her thighs and growled her frustration. “My gods, are you not hearing what I’m telling you? I can’t go with you to the Stara Dragana!”
“Keep your voice down.” She glared but stayed quiet. “I heard you, and I understand why you need to go back, but it doesn’t change the fact you have to come with me.” He ignored her angry snort. “My father is a clan chief,” he said. “An ataman. As the ataman’s only son, his leadership would pass to me when he died. When he became ill, my cousin had some of his friends attack me, beat me until I passed out, and sell me to Kraelian slavers. All so he wouldn’t have to challenge me for the chieftainship if my father didn’t survive. I intend to reclaim my birthright, and to do so I will need an agacin by my side. The Savatar recognize succession through blood tanistry—worthiness of a successor based on combat. If my cousin weren’t the coward he is, he would have challenged me to combat for the right to rule the clan. With me gone, he needed only the approval of the clan atamans and the agacins to become an ataman himself. However, if I return with an agacin who supports my claim to take back the chieftainship, they will be forced to allow me to challenge my cousin, because it comes with Agna’s blessing. I can demand the right of combat to retake the chieftainship.”
She hunched away from him and turned her head so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “I want no part of this struggle between you and your relative.”
He coaxed her back to him with a finger on her chin. “Help me regain my place as ataman, and I swear on the spirits of all my ancestors I will return you to Beroe before the slavers arrive next spring.”
Disbelief was stamped on every part of her body and face. “And why would you keep your word once you’ve gained your prize?”
“Because, despite what you might think, I have honor.”
Acerbic laughter greeted that statement. It died as quickly as it erupted. “Do I truly have a choice?”
“If you want to see Beroe again? No.”
She shook her head. “Honesty for once. There’s hope for you yet.”
He swallowed back a cheer at the thread of agreement in her voice. “Will you help me?”
“As I really have no choice, then yes.”
“Do I have your word you won’t try to escape again?”
“Absolutely not.”
He hadn’t expected a promise, so her reply didn’t surprise him. “Then we know where we stand with each other.” He settled back against the wall, feeling the hard thumping of his heart calm a little. “You’re a brave woman,” he said. “A bitter one, but brave.”
