more bruises, not dirt.
“What happened to you?” Kallista asked. “Who did this?”
“One of the Farmer caste.” Aisse shifted a shoulder. “I did not know him. He caught me as I was escaping. The morning the warriors died.”
The day of the dark magic. Kallista stifled her shudder as she translated, sensing Torchay’s impatience. He did not respond well to a lack of information.
“When they died,” Aisse went on, “I got away.”
That sent another chill through Kallista. Did she sense the hand of the One in this? “You were already running away, before this beating?”
“Yes. One beating is much like another, just as one man is like another. They are a woman’s lot, men and beatings. But I wish to choose. I want a life that is mine.”
The sincerity in her voice rang clear to Kallista’s soul. She too had wished for more choices than she’d been given, though she’d had more than Aisse. “Neither men nor beatings are a woman’s lot in Adara.”
“That is why I want to stay.”
Kallista nodded, her mind made up. “Will you renounce Tibre and swear loyalty to me as representative of Adara’s Reinine?”
Aisse started back to her knees again, joy shining through the bruises on her face, but halted at Kallista’s upraised hand and the sight of Torchay’s glittering blade.
“What are you doing, Captain?” Torchay asked through gritted teeth.
Kallista shifted her upraised hand to halt him as well. “Slowly,” she said in Tibran. “Kneel. Swear on the One, the Mother and Father of all, that you renounce all ties and loyalty to Tibre.”
“I worship Ulilianeth, great lady,” Aisse said as she knelt, eyeing Torchay’s blade all the way down.
“A beautiful aspect of the One, but only a small part of Her glory. Do you swear?” Step by step, Kallista led her through the oath, cobbling it together on the spot from other vows she had heard and sworn over the years.
“Naitan.” Torchay stepped close, bending to growl in her ear, “Kallista, what are you doing?”
“This woman has renounced her Tibran birth and begged citizenship in Adara,” Kallista said in Adaran as she gestured Aisse to her feet. This time it did not take so long for her to stand straight.
“And you gave it?” Torchay demanded.
“I will take responsibility for her as my servant, until we reach Arikon and the Reinine can decide whether to grant her request,” she said to the riverboat captain, “and of course I will pay her passage to Turysh.”
“And you’re sure she’s not a saboteur or spy?” The captain studied Kallista’s new servant with doubt.
“I’m sure.” Though her certainty bothered her. How was she so sure?
“How?” Torchay asked, voice ringing through the foredeck. “How can you know she speaks the truth?”
I just do. But that wouldn’t convince them. “My magic is of the North.” Her blue tunic would have told them so already, but truthsayers were also of the North. It wouldn’t convince Torchay, but it might the others. Probably.
He retreated first, however, giving her a hard look that faded to worry, then stoic acceptance. He bowed. “As you say, naitan.”
His acquiescence convinced the others. The captain nodded, dismissing the crew still standing guard.
“If I could beg a bath for my servant Aisse?” Kallista said.
The male officer, in charge of passengers and cargo, if she remembered right, bowed. “I will see to it, naitan.”
“I will be watching your new ‘servant’ with careful eyes, naitan,” Torchay murmured as he gestured for Aisse to follow the other man.
“I expect nothing less.” Kallista gave him a wicked grin. “That’s why I’m putting her in your charge. See that she has what she needs—new clothes and a pair of shoes to start with. Probably food. And then, teach her Adaran.”
“I’m no scholar.”
“No.” She patted his shoulder. “Which means your teaching will be eminently practical. Just try not to teach her too many curse words.”
“Here! What are you doing? Are you mad?” A hand caught Stone’s arm, jerked him back.
Stone was standing at the prow of a boat, trying to climb onto the railing. The shackles he wore on his ankles and wrists wouldn’t allow it.
“Of course you’re mad,” the voice attached to the hand muttered. “What was I thinking?” It was male, belonging to the officer in charge of the soldiers escorting Stone up the river to the Adaran capital.
“Sergeant!” He shouted back down the length of the boat, and the fat guard from the prison came clattering up the stairs to the high foredeck.
“Sir!” The sergeant came to attention, obviously missing the presence of his pike. He had nothing to pound on the deck.
“Who, Sergeant, is supposed to be guarding the prisoner this watch?” The icy fury in the lieutenant’s voice made even Stone shiver with fear.
“I am, sir. Me and Dyrney. The Tibran’s asleep.” The guard’s voice faltered as he realized just who his superior held by the elbow. “Or he was. How’d he get out?”
“Precisely what I would like to know.”
So would he. Stone had lost time. Hours, if not days. He did not remember boarding this boat.
Stone tried his voice, swallowed and tried again. “How long—” His voice crackled, as if he’d either not been using it, or been using it too much.
“I dunno, sir,” the sergeant answered the lieutenant. “I swear we was watchin’ him. He couldn’t’ve got out the door.”
“Then perhaps he left by the window, hmm?” The officer turned to Stone, impaling him on the glare from his uncanny blue eyes. Save for those eyes, this man looked like a proper officer. His brown hair was pulled smoothly back from a high forehead into that tight Adaran queue, his face set and hard with an attitude of command. His rank was marked by a single white ribbon on either shoulder of his dun-colored tunic.
“How long?” He repeated Stone’s question. “Are you with us, warrior?”
Stone cleared his throat. “How long have we been traveling?”
The man leaned closer, peering into Stone’s face. “Yes, I believe you are here. Welcome back. Do you recall who I am?”
It took some effort, but Stone finally dredged up the information. “Lieutenant Joh…I don’t remember your other name. Twenty-first Infantry.”
“Joh Suteny, but that doesn’t matter.” He continued
