Threads of Desire (Spellcraft)

Chapter Eight

Rael accompanied him to the warehouse, a silent and disapproving shadow stalking him through the twisting streets. A blot on the cloudless day. Kal wanted to see Nira, and Rael thought he visited too often. He thought that Kal should have told Ily the truth before bringing her into his home.

No stomach for risk, Rael. But he adored Nira nearly as much as Kal himself did. He’d protect her with his life, and that was all Kal could ask of him. There was no better servant in all of Saria. More brother than not, which was why Rael felt comfortable turning his head to regard his master with open disgust.

We could be gone from Lasura by now.”

Lasura is my home, Rael, and yours. It’s not such an awful place to be in the full flush of spring with the trade winds casting the wealth of the empire upon our shores. We’ll be gone long before summer fully settles on the city.”

Everyone who could do so fled the capital when summer came. When the sun bleached the stones, the heat sucked the air from your lungs and even the water in the fountains failed to bring relief. Kal had always stayed in the city as had his father before him. Their home was situated high enough to catch the wind off the ocean, and he was wealthy enough to be able to purchase ice from the mountains and guild-spelled marble to keep the villa bearably cool.

This summer he would be gone. In fact, he was unlikely to return until the emperor called the court to assemble again in the spring. Provided that all went as planned and Ily agreed to his proposition.

Nira—”

Don’t speak her name,” Kal snapped. Rael flinched and he moderated his tone. “Regardless of your opinion that I’ve mishandled Ily, we can’t afford to be careless. Not now.”

My apologies, Saer. I won’t misspeak again.”

Kal clapped him on the shoulder and they turned from the main thoroughfare that passed north and south through the city. He knew the slip hadn’t been intentional—Rael was rarely careless. Perhaps they both needed the reminder. Last night, with Ily warm and sated in his arms, he’d almost told her. That Seli had noticed the guild mark on her wrist when she’d shielded the orphan boy from Calef. That Seli had then promptly sold that information to Kal, who’d found out all he could about the guild-trained artist living in the Southton slums.

He hadn’t believed it at first. She wouldn’t have been the first person to mark the tattoo on her wrist in an attempt to deceive her customers. He’d sent Rael to discover what he could and Rael had returned with the information that yes, she was guild trained. There’d been some sort of scandal at the University involving the guildmaster, and Ily had been quietly cast out in disgrace. The guild was secretive about the details, saying only that they no longer sanctioned her work.

Kal had been touring his vineyards then. It had been high summer, so the event had passed by largely unnoticed by the court. Karak’s man told Rael that his master had been approached by the girl but he’d turned her away, not wanting to risk the guildmaster’s displeasure. That was three years ago. Rael hadn’t been able to learn anything of her from that point on. She’d disappeared without a trace.

Three years. Kal strongly suspected that she’d been living here, in the Southton slums all that time. Lanel sending his pet to the villa yesterday only reinforced that belief. Truly remarkable, that. No one from the guild had come to his home for well over a year, but two weeks after taking Ily under his roof and there was Randal at his gate with a beautiful sample of work from the Dravon weaver. Soft as water! Thread that never fades! A design that changes with the seasons!

Kal tossed the dog out after he’d hinted that Ily was unstable and that Kal, for the sake of the continued health and well-being of his household, should deliver her to the University. He hadn’t mentioned the conversation to Ily, feeling that it would needlessly upset her. She stiffened in his arms whenever the guild was mentioned, and he had no intention of delivering her to anyone, let alone Lanel Hasson.

The accusation was ridiculous in any case. If the guild truly believed Ily was unstable, they’d have killed her immediately. Didn’t he know the truth of that better than most? Ily was the most level-headed person of his acquaintance, so carefully contained that he’d come to view it as a personal challenge to entice her to relax. Lanel had simply wanted Kal to know that he was being watched and his warning—his threat—came because he didn’t want Kal nosing around in guild business.

All of it only made him more curious about the cause of Ily’s dispute with the guild, but he couldn’t press her on that point. Despite the fact that she’d come to trust him, he still sensed that she would take flight like a startled dove if threatened. He badly wanted her trust. Ironic, considering he’d yet to trust her with his own secrets.

The rub of it was that he happened to agree with Rael. He should have been truthful with her from the beginning, but it was far too late to turn back now. He had to choose his moment wisely. It would have been wrong to make his confession last night, with Ily curled in his arms and the scent of sex still in the air.

He didn’t want to lose her.

He couldn’t risk Nira who was his heart, soul, all of his life. He wouldn’t risk Nira...not even for Ily. He slowed his step and Rael, ever mindful, came instantly alert.

It was the fabric that caught his attention, the sheen catching the sun when the man stepped through a shaft of light between two leaning buildings. Everyone else in this part of town, including Kal, wore the coarse sleeveless tunics of workmen. Leather leggings that ended just below the knee. Kal wore leather sandals too, but people here were as like to be barefoot as not. His feet weren’t hard enough to manage the distance barefoot. Ily would be amused.

He nudged Rael, tipping his head slightly to indicate the man hiding within the shadow of a doorway to their right. A small yellow cat darted ahead of them, leaped onto a short wall and sat down as if ready to watch some entertainment. The man could belong to anyone. Kal was casually watched by a half-dozen of the other trade houses with whom he was currently negotiating for ships and services. The emperor and the guild kept tabs on everyone, and normally Kal took no more notice of them than a dog noticed fleas. But not today...today he couldn’t be followed.

He kept walking as he passed the spy, but Rael stopped to confront him directly. The street twisted and within twenty steps Kal was out of sight. A quick run down a side alley and over the crumbling stone wall of the inn. He passed through the courtyard and paused beside the well. Forn was the boy’s name who perked up, rising to his feet with a smile. He gave a fine imitation of a court bow and held out a hand into which Kal dropped two coppers.

Whistle twice if anyone else hops the wall.”

Kal cuffed his head lightly and stepped inside the inn. They served wine and food in the front room, although it was stuffy in the poorly ventilated space and most people chose to take their meal into the courtyard. In truth, he could see for himself if anyone followed, but Forn had helped him before and what was two coppers?

He swatted at a fly and claimed a seat in the corner to sip his wine. Laduri from the farms to the east. The soil was poor there and the wine had an unpleasant aftertaste, opened too soon. But he drank it and waited until he felt reasonably confident that he hadn’t been followed.

To be certain, when he left the inn, he took a circuitous route to the warehouse, pausing twice more so that he could watch the road behind him. An hour later, his nose was filled with the scent of brine and fish, his ears assaulted by the shrewish squawk of gulls. One last look over his shoulder and he crossed the street to jog up the short flight of stairs into one of his warehouses. The one most people were least interested in, housing only the trinkets he sold at the marketplace not the casks of wine that were more valuable than gold.

He nodded toward the guards stationed inside the doors and passed directly to the upper level. He paused on the threshold then quietly closed the door behind him. Somehow—he’d never understood it—she was always the first to know he was there. Today, she was seated nearest to the door, as if she’d been patiently waiting for him to arrive though he’d sent no word. Her straight black hair was bound in a single thick braid. Much longer and she’d be able to sit on it.

Nira,” he said, and she turned, her pale eyes lighting with delight.

She ran into his arms and he lifted her off her feet. Her small hands grabbed onto his shoulders and she buried her face against his neck. When she laughed, the sound melted his heart.

Papa, you came.”