The Wrath Of Silence Page 3

  The old woman cleared her throat again, her fingers dancing over Wodan’s symbol, a circle with a line intercut through its center, before dropping to her lap again. “I have other matters to attend to,” the queen finished, her voice weaker than before.

  Urban clenched his hands behind his back, leaning forward as if he would sniff the queen. The guards stiffened at her side, which had Konrad’s fingers twitching to grab for his blade. He came from generations upon generations of Warriors; he knew when a situation was bordering on violence by instinct.

  Urban’s eyes slid to the guards, and he leaned back, taking a more relaxed stance, if but a forced one. “Apologies for detaining you from such important matters, Your Highness. We swear by Wodan’s good graces we won’t take much more of your time. May we approach? My master has entrusted us with documents for your eyes only.”

  Queen Morgana’s eyes narrowed and her jaw clenched, glancing to the double edged sword at his side. Guessing her concern, Urban unclipped the weapon belt and let it fall to the ground with a clatter. Morgana sniffed in mild derision at his theatrics before motioning with her head, giving him permission to approach the dais.

  Konrad watched the guards as Urban moved toward the queen, his heart hammering in his chest, palms sweaty. Urban was unarmed and approaching six heavily armored men who would do anything to protect their queen.

  As I would do anything to protect my liege.

  The guard’s eyes alternated between Urban and Konrad as he stood rigidly by Urban’s discarded weapon. Konrad’s attention was so intent on watching the queen’s men for any move that would indicate they meant harm to Urban, that he almost missed how melodramatically Urban pulled a faded piece of parchment from his coat pocket.

  Konrad knew the parchment contained nothing but a rudimentary map of Selkirk and her forests—or the forests that had been mapped prior to the dag’ears going mad. It made no sense that Urban would be showing the Queen of Selkirk a map of her own country, but Urban never unraveled the parchment.

  He placed the document on her lap before ever so softly laying his hand upon the queen’s gnarled and ring-encrusted fingers, leaning forward to whisper in her ear. Morgana tensed like a bowstring for a moment, her cold, emerald eyes widening before fluttering closed and then snapping open a moment later. By then the guards were shuffling between a desire to scrabble for their weapons or to pull Urban away, though he had done nothing to threaten the queen.

  A contented look of peace settled over Morgana’s face. She no longer looked as troubled over her son’s passing or her husband’s ill health. It was an expression Konrad thought he recognized, for it looked similar to what the port master had experienced, what Konrad himself felt when Urban had first touched him.

  Urban swayed on his feet as if suddenly weary, and the queen’s guards lurched into action, seizing Urban in their gauntleted hands. Konrad was jerking his blade free of his baldrick when the queen held up her hand.

  “Release that man at once. You are not to touch dignitaries without just cause—of which you have none, buffoons. This man is clearly fatigued from his journey, and you display such disrespect? Wodan take pity on your souls!”

  Queen Morgana stood, her eyes shining with a fevered elation while her body trembled in an effort to contain her sudden enthusiasm. “This man is important. Sent by Wodan to help us in this trying time. Do you not see that? Surely my own guard cannot be so blind? You’re never to lay hands upon him. Understood? Now, go and have a room readied for our guests in the royal wing and send a messenger to their ship informing those aboard of where their masters are.”

  The guards hesitated and Morgana frowned, her voice turning icy. “I said go. You are dismissed.”

  The guards left amidst a parade of stomping to do as their queen commanded. No sooner had they left than Konrad was at Urban’s side, trying to keep him steady.

  Urban shrugged away from Konrad, his eyes flashing with green and yellow fire. “We’re growing short of time. The Vanir are strong here. Too strong. Wodan is weak. Can’t you feel it? This woman’s belief gets us closer faster. No need to hide in the shadows. She has the army we need. Don’t you see? Yes, yes! We see it!”

  Urban’s words were low enough that only Konrad could hear, but given the serene look on Morgana’s face, he doubted the queen would bat an eye at his words in any case; she was as devoted to his master as Konrad was. Konrad nodded at Urban, glad that, with Morgana on their side, they were closer to bringing Wodan back. In his joy, Konrad never questioned how Urban managed this, it did not seem as important as the mere fact it was true.

  Urban smiled at Morgana as she reverently touched his shoulder before withdrawing her hand as if burnt. “I knew Wodan would reward me one day. I’ve served my husband and country faithfully. Even had three sons to ensure the royal line continued. The very line He ordained as worthy to lead Selkirk. I knew Wodan had a reason for calling Fearghas to His Garden so soon. He wanted to show me the evil this Tallis monster has instilled in the tremps and my citizens alike. It’s the same reason He has afflicted my husband with his dementia, is it not? Of course it is. It was a sign I was too ignorant to read. But now I see! You’ll help us end the civil unrest and eradicate the tremps, and I shall stand by your side when you bring Wodan to us!”

  Urban didn’t answer. He peered into her eyes and grinned viciously, pleased in a manic sort of way by whatever he saw. Part of Konrad knew such a look was one he should fear. But mostly he was more drawn to Urban, increasingly more eager to do his bidding now that Queen Morgana saw the holiness of their quest.

  “Come,” the queen said, slowly walking from the dais and motioning them to follow her. “I must introduce you to my sons, Dougal and Nichol. They must see what I have seen. What Wodan has shown me through you!”

  Chapter 3

  Strand by strand, Tallis wove locks of her hair into the red, purple, and blue cords. Once she was done, the cords would be taken to Tomas, where he would do the same with his own hair. Once their hair was twined together, Rosslyn would tie them into knots, locking their hair in place within the cord and preventing the thick, silky threads from ever unraveling.

  She gaped at her hands, amazed they weren’t trembling with each new braid she made.

  It felt like a cluster of hummingbirds raced through Tallis’s gut, fluttering through her, making her limbs tingle, her stomach churn, excited by the impending nuptials. In a few hours, their ship would be within sight of Selkirk. Once the chilly island came into view, they would be but a day away from returning to the country Tallis had covertly fled. This time when she returned, it would be at the head of a meager army. And she would be married.

  Tallis was not sure if she was ready for any of it.

  She paused in her braiding, her hands resting delicately on the purple cord, and sighed. It felt odd being concerned over the Priodas when the fate of her home was in such a precarious balance. The elves of Selkirk were weak, struggling to survive; most of the people still wanted her dead. Urban may have already made landfall at any number of locations on the island and could already be slaughtering countless innocents. But if that was the case, there was nothing Tallis could do until they docked. Being forced to set sail after Lord Michal’s own wedding had awarded Urban and Konrad a substantial lead.

  In the meantime, she had distracted herself with braiding her cords, and arguing with Rosslyn over what she was to wear. It was better than thinking about what trouble was waiting for them, or focusing on the persistent discomfort that plagued Tallis whenever she was on a ship. Clenching her jaw, Tallis resumed her braiding.

  She’d started braiding the red cord when Rosslyn shoved open her cabin door, arms full of dress pieces. Following in her wake was Colben and the ever hyper Cookie. Rosslyn nearly tripped over the wolf pup as she maneuvered her way into Tallis’s quarters.

  “Oi, you mongrel! Watch where you’re going or I’ll step on your paw and I won’t be sorry one bit. Just you watch.”

  C
olben’s steps faltered at Rosslyn’s words; without being able to see her face, the boy was unsure if Rosslyn was serious. As if deciding it was better not to chance such a thing, Colben scooped up the wriggling gray wolf pup and kept him a safe distance from the irritated Sipsi.

  Rosslyn’s easy smiles and natural good humor made only fleeting appearances once they had completed the task Lady Zofia set for them. They’d secured the Royal House for Zofia, Lord Michal married above his station, and little Marcelina had been rescued from the grip of some particularly nasty Andor pirates and returned to her family. But Rosslyn had lost her Galon Sipsiwn, the Sipsi Heart, the moment her Artisan lover left her.

  The memory still kindled Tallis’s blood. She would do anything to protect her friends from harm, and that included saving Rosslyn from having her heart ripped out by the likes of Adelaide. But each time Tallis tried to talk to her about it, Rosslyn scowled and scrunched her face as if she had tasted something bitter, before changing the subject back to Tallis’s rather impromptu wedding. Since it kept Rosslyn from soothing her heartache with the cheap ale the Arcadian sailors brought with them, Tallis did not press.

  Rosslyn glanced at the nearly completed cords as she deposited her armload of clothes on the disheveled bunk. Tomas was usually the one to tidy the room, but as the ship’s quarters were too cramped for both of them, he slept on the other side of the vessel. Tallis had yet to get into the habit of making her own bed.

  It was odd. They had not been sleeping in the same bed long, and even then they had done nothing more than hold each other through the night. But Tallis had a difficult time sleeping without him.

  Tallis turned her gaze away from Rosslyn and resumed braiding the deep red cord. “What’s all that?” she asked.

  “This, my dear Soon-To-Be-Bride, is going to be your ceremony dress,” Rosslyn declared, laying out various pieces for Tallis to inspect.

  Tallis rolled her eyes, the title sounding suspiciously like what Rosslyn called Tomas. “I thought we decided I could wear the ceremonial armor I brought from Arcadia? We polish those gold scale armbands and it gleams prettily enough, right?”

  Rosslyn planted her fists on her hips and gave Tallis a flat stare. But before she could speak, Colben answered for her, “No, Rosslyn doesn’t think so. And you know it isn’t, either. Just don’t like wearing dresses. I don’t understand. You wore them to the feasts in Arcadia. Why won’t you wear them to your Priodas, Tallis? It’s a special occasion, yes? Yes.”

  Colben set Cookie back on the ground and the boy tilted his head, regarding Tallis. He reached for the white lock of hair in his mass of brown curls, but he stopped with a slight wince. His arm was still in an odd type of sling, while his collarbone healed from the blow Rodrigo had given him. But he was eating voraciously, the way Tallis usually did when her body was repairing itself at those alarming speeds, so she figured he’d be rid of the sling by the time they made landfall.

  “Oh,” Colben said after a moment. “You aren’t comfortable in them. Is it because you can’t fight as well in a dress, Tallis? Yes. But, we’re on a ship. On the ocean. Who would attack?”

  Tallis closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Colben, we’ve talked about this. You shouldn’t read people’s faces like that unless you absolutely have to.”

  She loved Colben like a brother, and she had from the moment they’d rescued him from Theda’s Tower, but his ability to read the subtle emotions on her face to unearth her unspoken feelings was still unnerving. The skill certainly had its usefulness. He had been invaluable during their time in Arcadia while determining which contracts to accept, but that didn’t mean Tallis ever got used to it, especially when she was the focus.

  “I know. But Rosslyn sometimes lets me when we play cards. Is my skill necessary then, Tallis? No? Oh, it’s not.” Colben shuffled his feet, his fingers twitching again as he stole a shy glance at Rosslyn. “Yes, it is necessary. It’s both. How?”

  Tallis groaned. “Rozy, you’re making it worse.”

  “Oi! It’s a fine talent in the right places. I just happen to think the card table is the right place. It’s all about perspective, Tally. Now stop changing the subject and come here. Your weaving can wait a tick.”

  Tallis flicked her eyes from Rosslyn, to the pile of clothes, then back to Rosslyn. “Tomas isn’t going to care what I wear.”

  A slow grin tugged at the corner of Rosslyn’s full lips. “Oh, aye, he’ll be too desperate to get you out of whatever you’re wearing once the ceremony is all done.”

  Tallis blushed and was about to protest, but Rosslyn didn’t give her the opportunity. “Look, it’s not every day my best friends have a Priodas. You’re only going to do this once, hopefully, so it should be the spectacle your love deserves. Think about it, Tally. This bloke fell for you when he was just a kid in the monastery. As an initiate, he shouldn’t have ever loved you. But he did! And you know what he did next? The sodding romantic climbs out his tower window and follows you as you ever so elegantly dodge an entire forest of tremps. He’s the man he is today because of the likes of you and the love you have. And, for as much as I want to take credit for the force you’ve become, I know our Ser-Was-Almost-A-Brother and his devotion to you had a big hand in that. Doesn’t a love like that deserve more than just a bare ceremony? Don’t answer. I know I’m right. Now shake your arse and come over here.”

  Tallis chuckled as she did what Rosslyn asked. She heard Colben scoop Cookie up in his good arm once more and creep beside her, glancing from her to the material her own eyes lingered on.

  The boy was still learning about the world and how people worked within it. He’d made incredible strides in the six months he’d been with them, but there was still so much he did not understand, and marriage ceremonies were one of those things. Rosslyn had made a compelling case, but looking at his open-faced curiosity was what finally made Tallis decide to have as elaborate a ceremony as the ship allowed. She wanted to show Colben how such ceremonies were traditionally supposed to be in places like Selkirk.

  She plucked at the various items, marveling at how eclectic Rosslyn’s wardrobe had become. The Sipsi had been collecting clothes like coins ever since Theda. Without anyone on the ship who could make new garments, Tallis finally appreciated Rosslyn’s expansive wardrobe.

  Most of the clothes were varying hues of white and beige skirts, petticoats, lacy corsets, sashes, and sheer overcoats. But mixed within the traditional ceremony colors were splashes of cherry, cerulean, emerald, onyx, and gold from belts, under-bust corsets, coats, and stockings. Her hands ran over each of these items, delighting in their fine patterns and silky textures. Colben watched her as she touched each of the items, reading on her face which ones she seemed to prefer before she made a conscious decision.

  Tallis grinned as he pulled out each piece she lingered over. He turned his eyes up at her, the rings around the irises like the growth pattern in ancient tree stumps, the golden rims around his eyes quivering with hope that he had read her face correctly. Tallis patted his shoulder, and he beamed at her with such a childlike smile that Tallis began to laugh.

  Rosslyn peeked around Tallis and nodded, her curly black hair wiggling back and forth in the motion. “I’ll have to modify this a bit. You haven’t the…endowments to fill these out properly,” she said with a wink.

  Tallis grinned in response and waved Rosslyn away. She had always been petite and a bit on the shorter side, and, while Rosslyn was not all that much taller than her, her body was full and curvy in a way that Tallis envied. How Rosslyn was going to modify her clothes to fit Tallis in such a short amount of time, she couldn’t guess.

  As Rosslyn went to work, stretching her meager skills with sewing to the limit, Tallis went back to braiding her hair into the cords. She breathed out a long sigh as soon as she finished, slumping back in her chair to admire her work, and allowing the wave of nervousness to swell within her, washing over her mind and tumbling her thoughts.

  Colben
glanced at her from his spot on the floor. Cookie tugged on the bit of rope he held, but Colben’s eyes stayed fixed on her face as Tallis stared beyond him.

  She worried that marrying Tomas, when they still had so much left to do, would be a sign to Wodan that He was now permitted to take Tomas away from her. She worried she was being selfish in loving Tomas the way she did. She worried the beast in her blood would wake up, and she would devour Tomas in a fit of madness. The voice had been blessedly silent since the night she’d found Cookie, but that didn’t mean the elandili psychosis lurking within her was gone.

  Deep down, Tallis believed she was making a mistake.

  “How do you know, Tallis?”

  Colben’s whisper thundered in her ears, making her thoughts dissipate like steam rolling off tea. Tallis glanced at Rosslyn, but if her friend heard, she was too absorbed in her work to care about what Colben had said. She turned back to the boy on the floor and immediately averted her gaze. Colben’s emotions were so open and honest that she didn’t need his special talents to see the apprehension on his face.

  He had only ever known Tallis and Tomas together. He viewed them as a whole and couldn’t fathom them being anything other than what they were now. In many ways, Tallis felt the same. And yet the fear that going through with the ceremony was the wrong thing to do still persisted.

  “How do I know what? That joining Tomas is a mistake? I’m just concerned it is. That doing this, at best, will snap me in the arse later, and at the worst, somehow get Tomas killed. I—I can’t let that happen.”

  Colben chewed over her words much in the same way Cookie chewed on the rope the boy held. He tilted his head to the other side, considering her words for a moment longer. “Yes. But how do you know?”