Blood of the King - Khirro's Journey Book 1 Page 0,44
fast. You can eat in the saddle.”
Khirro smiled at her, still not speaking.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes,” he said again. “Thank you.”
She gave him an odd look, then turned and walked to her horse, leaving him to collect himself. He watched as she went, thinking of the white tyger and its words, of the pristine lake and of how Emeline’s face became Elyea’s. The empty ache of loneliness so often permeating his heart upon waking was absent this morning. He slipped his hand beneath his tunic and touched the vial hidden by his heart, its warmth flowing into his fingers. He pushed himself to his feet, rested and fortified, ready for whatever the day might bring.
Chapter Sixteen
A low haze of dust hung over Tasgarad’s streets, kicked up by people, horses and wagons hurrying all directions. Stone buildings stood beside waddle and daub huts lining the streets, giving the town a feel of being caught between village and burgeoning city. Tents abutted the town’s perimeter, most housing traveling merchants or entertainers, many of them from Vendaria and other points further south, here to sell their wares.
The group rode down the main street together, keeping their horses to a walk, Khirro and Ghaul wearing cloaks over their armor. Athryn had suggested leaving their leather and mail hidden rather than wear it, but Ghaul would have none of it. With soldiers about, he was unwilling to disarm. Athryn conceded but warned they’d have to be careful if they wanted to make it through Tasgarad without attracting attention. He hoped to make the border by nightfall, slip past the guard posts in the dark, and be well into Vendaria by morning light.
“Take Khirro and Ghaul, Elyea. Purchase as much food as you can carry.” Athryn pulled a leather pouch from beneath his cape and handed it to her. “Maes and I have other matters to attend to. We will meet you on the south side of town at midday.”
Khirro waved as Athryn turned the horse the two men shared down a side street, leaving them to stock their supplies at the market. Ghaul grunted as they left, his way of saying he mistrusted the pair.
“How long have you known Athryn, Elyea?” Khirro asked hoping for an answer to quell his companion’s misgiving.
“Many years. When I was concubine of the king, he’d come to me in secret and distract me from my pain with sleight-of-hand. I didn’t realize it at the time, but he likely used magic to heal my wounds at the same time.”
“That doesn’t mean I should trust him,” Ghaul snarled.
“No, I suppose not, but I do.”
She guided her horse around a throng of soldiers crooning a discordant song as they staggered across the street outside a public house. One of them eyed the three riders, but quickly rejoined his comrades in their bawdy ballad.
“And what of that damned pet midget of his? Why does the boy not speak?”
“Don’t jest about him,” Elyea warned, her voice serious. “Maes was also forced to serve in the king’s court. The king was no less cruel with entertainers than with his concubines. Maes doesn’t speak because the king took his tongue.”
“Gods.” Khirro had assumed the little man born unable to speak. “Why would anyone do such a thing?”
“I don’t know. Athryn won’t speak of it. One day, before Braymon fought to free the kingdom, Athryn ceased coming to my chambers. It wasn’t until years later we crossed paths again. That Maes’ tongue had been removed was all he would tell me then, and he has told me no more since.”
A watchman’s eyes followed them as they rode past the guard house at the market entrance. If he noticed the bulkiness of their clothes or wondered at the shield lashed to Khirro’s saddle, he didn’t stop them. The lanes ahead, clogged by merchants and shoppers, were too narrow for horses so they guided their steeds to a nearby tree to picket them. A boy of no more than eight summers sat nearby, idly tossing pebbles at a stump. Elyea knelt before him, said something Khirro didn’t hear, then took a copper from the pouch Athryn had given her. The boy nodded excitedly and took the coin, a broad smile on his tanned face.
“The horses will be safe,” Elyea said as she returned. They took their packs from the horses and strode into the churning throng of market-goers.
Color and sound nearly overwhelmed Khirro as they waded into the marketplace, easily three times the size of Inehsul’s, which