‘So there’s a wide world,’ Thalric told her. ‘What do you want from us?’
‘Well, much as I love the thrill of travelling these roads on my own, what with the threat of robbery and rape to keep life interesting, I thought I might try walking in your shadows for at least a while.’
Thalric was opening his mouth to issue some fresh objection, but Varmen quickly said, ‘Let her come. Why not?’ And, in the moment before Varmen was reminded by Thalric that he had no vote in this issue, Che was saying, ‘Enough.’
They all listened to her. That was the frightening thing.
‘Maure,’ she said simply, ‘I owe you a great deal, and if Suon Ren has no gratitude, then don’t think we’ll repeat that failing. Travel with us if you wish. You’re welcome.’
Again she felt that these words carried more weight to them than the simple meanings she was used to. It was as though she was now some great queen whose merest nod or favour carried unthinkable importance. Maure seemed relieved, but at the same time in no great hurry to come closer. ‘That is all, is it?’ Che pressed her. ‘Safety in numbers?’
‘Oh, of course,’ Maure said, and the lie was obvious, but Che let it pass.
Twenty-Nine
In the end, Che let Maure choose their path through Rhael Province, by roads that the woman had obviously travelled before. They made a point of keeping under tree cover whenever they could, and it was clear that the halfbreed was deliberately avoiding settlements along the way.
‘You don’t like doing business with brigands, then?’ Che had asked her.
‘I do business with anyone, if I have to. Brigands pay better than princes, and they pay in advance. I thought you wanted to get to Elas Mar as quickly as possible, though, so best to avoid the locals. They’re a curious lot, and might ask pointed questions.’
Che found herself still convalescing, lacking something of her customary Beetle stamina, which left her trailing behind whilst Varmen strode on ahead, his beetle ambling at his heels. Thalric, however, kept pace with her, which she found by turns comforting and annoying. She was not used to being indulged as an invalid.
After a while, she stopped paying much attention even to Thalric, because the long trek was wearing her down. She cut a walking stick to lean on, and still she laboured her way at the rear, so that Maure and Varmen were perpetually having to stop and wait for her. A shame no northbound barges are expected any time soon.
Towards the end of the first day she glanced up from her plodding feet, for the first time in a while, and saw the halfbreed necromancer leaning in towards Varmen, talking closely, and then the big Wasp’s head cocked back as he laughed at something she had said. Maure had never seemed much of a humorist to Che, but then the woman’s reaction towards her had been curious from the start. Plainly, with others she felt able to let go a little more.
‘Look.’ She managed a gesture towards them, for Thalric’s sake.
‘I see it.’ His tone of voice was not approving.
‘Surely you’re not…’ Che caught her breath, ‘still toeing that line of Imperial dogma? Superior races and all?’
‘Che, I don’t know why either of them is still with us. Allow me my suspicions, and I’ll let you remain trusting as a newborn, and we’ll agree to differ.’
She glanced at him, and could not suppress a tired smile. ‘Looking after me, is it?’
‘Someone has to. I’m only surprised I’ve not had to rescue you from something over the last few days.’ His tone, delivering acerbic banter calculated to hide whatever deeper feelings were hidden there, reminded her irresistibly of their time in Khanaphes together, first as ambassadors and then as fugitives.
‘I don’t know what I’d do without you,’ she said, trying to put a smile into it, but the words came out as far too solemn, and he gave no reply.
That night, after an argument over how hidden they should remain, Varmen stubbornly set a fire, albeit low down in a dip between trees. The pantries of Suon Ren had come up with some peculiar travelling provisions: a spiced hotchpotch of seeds, nuts, shreds of meat and dried fruit that could be eaten dry or cooked up into a kind of stew. It was filling, but promised to become dull eating after a while.
‘Honey would set this off well,’ Che opined, between heavily chewed mouthfuls. ‘They don’t seem to like it much around here, though.’
‘It was one of the commodities the army shipped in by the ton, during the war,’ Thalric agreed. ‘That and good wine, since Commonweal drink is an acquired taste.’
‘I’m sure you managed to acquire it.’ The simple act of eating was wearing her out, and she glanced up to offer her half-finished bowl around, but found Varmen and Maure were both missing.
‘Where are…?’ she started, but, on registering Thalric’s look, she abruptly understood. ‘That was quick work.’ She felt a sudden and irrational stab of envy that such casual liaisons had never been something open to her: raised as she was in Collegium, city of propriety, under the guidance of a respectable public figure and, besides, when had she ever even had the opportunity?
Of course, Tynisa had never let Stenwold’s high station stop her enjoying herself…
You are not here for that, anyway, she told herself. You have a higher purpose. If she closed her eyes, she could feel the faint thorn-point that was the spectre of Tisamon, penetrating Tynisa’s mind like a wound that could only suppurate with time. It seemed very far off, and she seemed altogether too weak a vessel to provide any great aid to her wayward sister.
The night was cold, and Che felt very alone just then, so when Thalric put his arms about her, she gave herself up to his embrace, leaning into his chest, feeling his chin butt gently against the back of her head. His hands rested across her stomach, and she felt a little shiver at the thought of their killing power, the Art that slept within them. Reclining against him, his arms seemed to form a barrier keeping the world at bay. His very Apt ignorance was a shield, and she felt that she would not dream whilst he held her. Some part of him would stand sentry, and burn down any dreadful revelations that tried to ambush her.
His breath was at her ear, and so it was simple enough to tilt her head back and find his mouth with her own, expecting him to start with surprise, but the pointed absence of Varmen and Maure must have led his thoughts along the same path, for he kissed her hungrily in return. A moment later, and his hands were moving up to cup her breasts, brashly at first but hesitant just before they came to rest, a fulcrum moment when he was plainly unsure whether she had meant to allow him so much.
Then she was slipping to one side, but only so she could draw him down over her, one hand working at his belt, and their lips never quite parting, no matter what contortions they went through. His killing hands remained firm on her, like another Imperial conquest.
There was a moment, the inevitable moment, Achaeos! as she contrasted the gentle touch of the Moth with Thalric’s fierce strength. And after that came the thought of what Stenwold would say if she took this last step, this final fall from grace. I can’t lie with Thalric. I can’t, not after all he’s done, no no no…
And he sensed the sudden tension, and she saw complete understanding appear in his face as she twisted her head away from him. It’s wrong, it’s wrong… The well-bred Collegium girl, Maker’s niece, the enemy of the Empire, all shouting that reproach at her.
To the pits with the lot of you. She’d had enough of being haunted by herself, and it had been a long time, and she wanted this. She almost lunged at Thalric, arms dragging him down towards her again, feeling all those walls of propriety and repression shatter like glass. The two of them now fighting out of their clothes as though they were being reborn, a new stage of life – clutching at each other in something as much relief and catharsis as it was desire.