Bloodkin (Jaseth of Jaelshead) Read online

  “And you couldn’t trust me to not stuff it up? You had to magic me, like I’m some idiot guard scum.”

  Charlie smiled ruefully, infuriatingly. “You looked like you were going to pull rank on those two.” He shrugged apologetically. “I needed to diffuse the situation quickly. And I needed to find out what the problem in the city was.”

  Oh yeah, I had forgotten Charlie’s apparent concern about the Lya Vassalion thing. Well, if he thought I was going to ask him about it, he could shove it up his arse.

  “Look JJ, I’m sorry—“

  “Oh bugger off Charlie. I get it. You don’t trust me so you had to magic me. I get it. Now just leave me the hell alone.”

  Charlie just nodded wisely, the smug bastard, and I kicked my horse into a gallop so I wouldn’t have to see his stupid grey face any more.

  We rode hard all afternoon. I was still furious, and wanted to punish Charlie with the pace. I barely noticed as the road curved beside the river as it swung in a north-westerly course and the flat plains began to roll gently into green hills. Until now we had still been within the Jaelshead District where grape vines and high-cropping corn were farmed on every available acre of the flat bottom of the valley. Jaelshead’s wealth was derived from the excellent wines that were produced from the gravelly soil and long, hot summer weather the valley enjoyed. Animal husbandry was concentrated in the foothills of the Rhye Mountains that framed the region, though that was limited mainly to the farming of alpacas who thrived in the dry runs on the steep hills and whose beautifully soft fleeces were the other pride of the district.

  Now that we were heading northwest up towards Lille, even the quality of the air was changing. Small roads frequently branched off the highway to the east, meandering around the gentle, rolling hills and out to the mountain range that was misty and distant to the north and east. Here, the hills and valleys were patchworked with small fields, edged with stone walls and trees that were almost beginning to yellow with the turn of the season. The paddocks were dotted with cows, farmed for their milk and their meat as well as for their hides, which were cured in the small tanneries that dotted the riverbank periodically. Herds of small white sheep grazed aimlessly, raised for their meat and their wool which made strong, inexpensive cloth when spun or felted. This I knew from long, tedious hours with my tutors, though as I had never left Jaelshead before this was the first time I had actually seen such intense farming in action. The sun was setting as I finally slowed my pace and allowed Charlie to catch up. Lumps of cloud drifted above us, steel-grey in the centre but haloed with pink and orange as colour leeched from the sky, which flamed gold as the heavy sun sank out to the west.

  “How do you feel about camping tonight? We passed the last inn for a while a few miles back.”

  Oh good. In my furious haste we had overshot our accommodation. My mother had insisted I take a sleeping bag “just in case”, but seriously, camping? Why hadn’t Charlie stopped me?

  “Sorry I didn’t stop you, Jas, but we are taught that adolescent males are best left to themselves when angry.”

  “Oh good, so you know how we work then,” I muttered grumpily.

  “What do you think Mentors spend ten years studying?” He grinned at me but I just snorted. “You’re not still cross at me, are you?”

  I guess I wasn’t really, not anymore, and Charlie was looking so concerned I managed to flick him a smile.

  “Nah, we’re alright.”

  “Good!” Charlie pointed ahead to a small path that branched off to our left, heading down to the river. “I think there’s a wee campsite down there, what do you reckon?”

  It was as good an idea as any, so we guided our horses off the highway. The path led down to a clearing surrounded by willows and overhung with tall ash trees. We dismounted in silence and Charlie gestured that I start gathering firewood while he tended to the horses. There were lots of low branches round the perimeter of the clearing filled with dry rot that I could break off in my hands, and I collected a few large bundles and placed them beside a pit rimmed with rocks that indicated that this clearing was used frequently by travellers.

  Charlie returned from the river leading our mounts and bearing a kettle filled with water. We unsaddled the horses and gave them a quick brush before tying them to a tree well within reach of a nice grassy patch of ground, and Charlie got to work on the fire. He broke up some of the smaller branches for kindling and arranged them in a pyramid in the firepit. With a blink of his eyes they sparked into life and he began adding larger pieces of wood as the fire caught. He hung his kettle over the fire and began rummaging in his saddlebags. He pulled out some dried salted meat, along with the fresh bread and cheese that Rudi had pressed on us that morning (was it only this morning?) as well as the little sack that held his collection of moss.

  “What do you think, Jas, do we deserve it?”

  “Well I sure as hell do Charlie, you magicked me today!”

  He chuckled in relief. “I’m sorry Jas, I really am. I won’t do it again. Promise!”

  “Better bloody not!” He laughed and pulled out the little red leather pouch of the laughing moss. “I’ll think we’ll have some Red tea, it’s nice and smooth that way.” He lifted the lid of the kettle that was already steaming away and sprinkled a small handful of the moss over the water. “But first, shall we eat?”

  The food was basic, but it sure hit the spot. The meat was chewy and delicious and the soft cheese spread easily on the fresh bread. When we had finished, Charlie procured two mugs from his bags and poured the tea, settling himself close to the fire with an extra blanket wrapped around his shoulders. We sipped the hot, herbaceous tea as the sky darkened and stars began to sparkle down through the trees.

  “So,” I started, breaking the companionable silence, “You let me ride all this way on purpose?”

  Charlie smiled and considered for a moment. “Well, yes. I realised you were angry with me and so I thought I’d leave you to it until you had calmed down.” I scowled, feeling foolish to have been so obvious. “It’s okay Jas! I knew there was no point trying to pressure you into talking when you were so cross. You might have said something you’d regret, and you needed time to work it all out in your head.” He sighed wistfully. “Human females on the other hand? Completely different kettle of fish!”

  “Yeah?” I encouraged. Anything about girls would be helpful, even if it came from a Nea’thi male who had only studied them.

  “Oh yes, you shouldn’t let females brood when they’re angry, and the longer you leave it, the worse it gets, it makes them think you don’t care. You have to let them get it out of their systems, so you might have to put up with a bit of screaming and crying, but a happy equilibrium will soon be reached.” The last bit sounded like he was remembering the words from a textbook and I grimaced.

  “Sounds like a load of bollocks, Charlie.” But he just laughed and refilled our mugs from the kettle.

  “Hang on Jas, I’ve just got to do a bit of Hầұeӣ before we get too merry.” He stood and walked slowly around the perimeter of the camp, including the trees and the patch of grass the horses were still munching happily on. He circled the camp again, and then a third time, before coming to sit back down by the fire.

  It was a ridiculous sort of ritual, and I giggled at him.

  “What? You want protection, don’t you? I just went round and changed the air so we’d be safe.”

  “Safe!” I spluttered. “You walked around in a circle three times!”

  Charlie flapped a hand at me, aggrieved. “Yes three times! One for sound, one for visibility and one so that no one can come in.”

  “Yeah, righto, how’d you do that?”

  “The Hầұeӣ changes the properties of the air particles. You can do it all at once of course, but it’s a bit of a pain, and I’m weary and protection stuff like this isn’t really where my skills lie. Go see for yourself!”

  So I stood and went to where Charlie had walked behind me. I reached out,
expecting nothing, but my hand touched something solid. The air was actually solid, as if there was an invisible brick wall surrounding the camp.

  “Shit Charlie,” I settled myself back down. “That’s pretty cool.”

  Charlie beamed. “You’ll learn this stuff, don’t you worry kiddo. There’s lots of things in the physical world that can be manipulated with Hầұeӣ, when you know how.”

  Hypnosis, shields, fire. It didn’t seem possible that I could do this stuff, but Charlie seemed to think I could. Charlie believed I had this Hầұeӣ. Unbelievable. I sipped at my tea, I was feeling surprisingly happy, giddy even. And now excited.

  “Jas…?” Charlie began, looking at me.

  “Yeah?”

  “This word you keep saying, “bollocks,” what does it mean?”

  I gasped with a laugh. “Seriously? I thought you knew everything about Humans! You spent ten years wandering about up here are you don’t know what bollocks are?”

  Charlie grinned and rubbed at his brow, embarrassed. “Yes, but there are regional differences in your language, you know, especially the, uh, colloquialisms. They try, but they can’t teach us everything!”

  I giggled. “Bollocks means balls. Testicles.”

  Charlie snorted, “I thought it meant your arse! Like, your buttocks!”

  “Ha, nope. It means your danglies.”

  “Danglies!” Charlie hooted. “That’s brilliant!”

  I was grinning at his delight. “Yeah, gangoolies!”

  Charlie chortled, picking up on the game. “Nads!”

  “Knackers!”

  “Cullions!”

  “Family jewels!”

  “Jingleberries!”

  “Plums!”

  “Baws!”

  “Gentleman’s vegetables!”

  “Gentleman’s vegetables?!” Charlie cried, almost hysterical. And then I was thankful for his sound-proof Hầұeӣ barrier as we both shrieked with laughter, gasping for air and completely unable to speak any more.

  The fire had died down to embers by the time we had exhausted ourselves with laughter, telling stupid jokes and swapping stories. My face ached as I crawled into my sleeping bag. We had said our goodnights, and I was feeling a bit drifty when I remembered something.

  “Charlie?”

  “Mmm?”

  “Why were you worried about those assassins in Lille?”

  Charlie sighed and shuffled in his sleeping bag.

  “Were you hoping I would forget about it?”

  He chuckled. “Very astute, Myr Jaseth.” He lifted himself onto his elbows and I could see his eyes glittering red in the embers’ light. “I spent some time in Lille when I was a Journeyman. I made some good friends there.”

  “Oh. And?”

  “And when I left Ұiờ I went to Fortesta to receive my assignation, then I came straight to you, so I haven’t had a chance to go back yet.”

  Which was an answer, and also not an answer at all. He settled back down and we lay in silence for a bit.

  “Is Lya Myn really a Nea’thi goddess?”

  He sighed quietly. “Oh no, she’s not a goddess.”

  There was silence again. I was almost asleep when I’m sure I heard him mutter “She’s pretty close though.”

  I thought about questioning him further, but weariness clouded my mind and before I could think of anything else to say, I was asleep.

  he highway grew steadily busier as we travelled north-west towards Lille, and our pace slowed considerably with the increased traffic on the highway. We managed to find wayside inns to stay at every night, each one showing signs of being closer to the Capitol. Each had more travellers staying, the food was richer, the beds more comfortable. With so much more population in evidence, Charlie and I were not remarkable, and though we had excellent service everywhere we stayed, the innkeepers were too busy, almost distracted to afford us the congeniality we had been shown by Myr Rudi. Nevertheless, by the end of every evening in the common rooms of these highway inns, Charlie had gathered around him groups of other travellers eager for his stories and the gentle fun of his company. He continued to amaze me with the easy way he seemed to slot into the company of any given tavern.

  Since the incident with the bridge guards however, he had started placing protective barriers on the doors and windows of our rooms, just in case.

  Just in case of what? I wondered, but didn’t ask. Surely people wouldn’t try to break into our rooms, but I didn’t want to seem naïve.

  On the ninth day of our travels Charlie woke me early, before dawn. I protested and rolled over, desperate for more sleep, but he was insistent.

  “Come on kiddo, if we leave now we can get to Lille by nightfall.”

  We were almost there! Charlie’s excitement was contagious, so I struggled out of bed, packed my things and ate a quick breakfast, and our horses were saddled and ready to go by the time the sun was reaching pale fingers of light across the hills.

  We rode steadily all morning. It was a clear, beautiful day, a hint of a breeze rustling the leaves of the groves of trees nestled in the small valleys, their topmost leaves touched gold by autumn. At lunchtime we came across a small temple of Queen Lilbecz, and we dismounted and led our horses through a verdigrised copper gate to be met by a young, bald, yellow-robed Acolyte. As I had told Charlie, our family never had much to do with the Temple at home, so I was unsure as how to proceed, but he bowed to her respectfully so I followed suit.

  “Welcome friends, let me take your mounts, you must be weary from your ride.” She gestured that we were to enter the temple as she led our horses around the side and tethered them close to a small pool. Inside, my eyes took a while to adjust after the bright sunlight outside, but Charlie moved unerringly forward.

  Branches of candelabra glittered around the outside and down the centre aisle, while above, beautiful round windows of coloured glass glowed. Rows of benches faced a large altar at the front, and behind that on a high pedestal stood a statue of a bald woman, clearly Nea’thi, the word remember inscribed clearly on the stone sash draped across her shoulder.

  Queen Lilbecz was not a goddess, or even really worshipped as such, but she had been the leader of the Leaving, persuading the rest of her race to leave their subterranean homes to aid the war and poverty-stricken Humans of the Outside, in the end sacrificing her own life for peace. The Nea’thi had realised upon the Leaving that religious divisions and dogma had caused insufferable harm to Human society. They themselves had followed no particular religious beliefs in the Enclaves, their gloriously long lives rendered desperate notions of eternal salvation irrelevant, and death was considered an honour, a peaceful release.

  But Queen Lilbecz and her followers recognised an innate need in Humans for ritual and spiritual purpose and had set out eight seasonal festivals for giving thanks and measuring the cycle of the year. After her death, Queen Lilbecz’ followers had dedicated the order to her memory and now, some 600 years later, men and women of all ages and classes shaved their heads and entered the Temple as Acolytes. Along with the celebration of the festivals and regular Sunday services of gratitude, the Temple provided succour to the poor, as well as being centres for Solastry – healing using Hầұeӣ – and midwifery services.

  The festival of Lughnasadh had been celebrated shortly before Charlie had turned up at Jaelshead, but the Temple’s altar was still festooned with sheathes of wheat and dolls fashioned from corn. Charlie and I sat on the front bench and he was silent for a while.

  “What are we doing here?” I asked quietly, lowering my voice in the still air.

  Charlie gestured at the statue. “Remembering.” He paused, thinking. “And giving thanks.”

  So we sat in silence, contemplating until the Acolyte entered the temple and walked down to us.

  “Would you care for some refreshments?”

  Charlie glanced at me and smiled. “Yes, thank you sister, that would be most kind.”

  She bowed her head and motioned f
or us to follow her. She led us out a side door and through the exquisitely proportioned garden of the temple, sparkling with life in the midday sun.

  At the rear of the garden she sat us at a table shaded by trees and disappeared into a small adjoining hall, returning with a platter of bread, smoked fish and pickled vegetables along with a large pitcher of juice. She surprised me by sitting with us, pouring the juice into elegant glass goblets.

  “You are a Mentor?” she asked Charlie, who nodded, his mouth full of food. She turned her attention to me, “So you must be Nea’thi-Blood? Have you given any thought to what you will do when you’ve finished your training?”

  I almost choked on my mouthful at the unexpected question. I hadn’t even considered what would happen after this Academy business had been completed.

  “I, uh, guess I’ll be going back home. To be a Lord,” I offered lamely.

  Her laugh was a merry chime. “Well, if you want to go into the healing craft, new Solasts are always welcome at the Temple.” She grinned at Charlie, “Well, it was worth a try!”

  Charlie laughed. “He’s got plenty of time to figure out what he wants to do, and what he’ll be good at.” His tone became serious. “But thank you, it is always good to know there are those who appreciate our gifts.”

  She nodded, equally serious. “Those in the service of Our Lady do not fear that which is alien to so many of us. Indeed, we are grateful.” She raised her goblet. “To patience, tolerance and love!” And we toasted the memory of Queen Lilbecz as the sun glittered down through the trees.

  Later, back on horseback heading towards Lille I remarked to Charlie, “That was a bit weird.”

  “What? The temple?”

  “Yeah, didn’t pick you for the religious type.”

  Charlie smiled and nodded. “The Nea’thi remember the Queen for perhaps different reasons than Humans. For us, the Leaving was not that many generations ago.”

  “Oh yeah, I suppose so. We really didn’t have all that much to do with it at home.”

  At this he laughed. “Yeah, I figured. Your father didn’t seem all that… enamoured with the Nea’thi.”