‘Well,’ said Bel, ‘I’m told we’re rare. Not quite as rare as blue-haired babies, but rare nonetheless.’ She looked confused and he waved the comment away. Searching quickly for something else, he found, ‘So what work are you in, miss, to be in the habit of teasing keepers?’
‘Oh,’ she smiled for the first time, ‘nothing I care to speak of. But I saw you chase down poor Jiggis before – quite an agile fellow, aren’t you?’
‘Jiggis?’ said Bel. ‘Oh, the rat who broke my partner’s ankle.’
‘Well, he didn’t actually. It was your partner’s ineptitude that did that.’
Bel felt his brow heat. ‘I didn’t notice you watching.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘And you wouldn’t have unless I wished it, unlike fools who snatch false gemstones in public. I had my own vantage. A lovely view, way up high.’
‘Bold of you to admit such things to a keeper.’
‘I’ve admitted nothing,’ she said. ‘Except to being in a tall building.’
Bel smiled. ‘So this is how to tease a keeper, is it, oh unnamed thief? To hint at your profession and prove yourself uncaught?’
The girl took a swig of her ale. ‘Mmm,’ she said. ‘That’s good ale. I wonder if it’s locally brewed.’
‘I admire your spirit,’ said Bel, ‘but you should be careful which keepers you choose to tease.’
‘Oh?’ said the girl, arching an eyebrow. Her eyebrows were already naturally arched, so the result was pronounced. ‘And you, sir, are one of those keepers best avoided?’
‘I don’t mind some friendly chat,’ said Bel. ‘But I’d steer clear of me out there,’ he gestured at the door, ‘while you go about your business , whatever it may be. I don’t care what you say about vantages and such, I’m not an easy fellow to shake.’
‘I believe you,’ she said, and actually looked uneasy for a moment. ‘Let’s change the subject,’ she continued, extending a hand with long, clever fingers. ‘I’m Jaya.’
‘Bel.’
When he took her hand his skin tingled and he instantly sensed their shared connection. He sometimes had a similar feeling around Corlas, but had always assumed it was the bond of family. She, too, looked affected by what she felt.
‘Sorry,’ she said, breaking into a grin. ‘It’s just …well, have you ever met anyone else like us before?’
‘My father, maybe,’ said Bel. ‘My mother used to tell him he had the blood, but he doesn’t really believe it.’
‘So your mother?’
‘Yes, she had it. Strong too, according to my father. I never met her; she died giving birth to me and …well, to me.’
‘Lucky,’ said Jaya. ‘My mother lived.’ She spluttered into her drink. ‘Sorry, didn’t mean that quite how it sounded.’
Bel smirked. ‘I take no offence. I feel like I know her anyway, sometimes. Arkus knows, my father has told me much about her. I wouldn’t be surprised if I’d been through every moment he remembers.’ His cheeks went red. ‘Apart from …well, you know.’
She laughed.
‘But anyway,’ he blustered on, ‘a Sprite woman she certainly was. “Be careful if you ever meet a Sprite woman, son,” my father sometimes says. “You …” …er …’ Bel trailed off as he suddenly realised he was talking to a Sprite woman.
Jaya smiled. ‘Forget I was here?’
‘I just didn’t put it together in my head before I started speaking.’
‘Well, you are a man so that’s to be expected. But do go on – what does your father say about Sprite women?’
‘Um …I’d rather not say now.’
‘You can’t do that.’ Jaya scowled at him. ‘I’ll arm-wrestle you for it.’
‘What?’ Bel glanced at her arms. True she was athletic, but there was no chance she would best him. ‘Okay,’ he said, and shrugged.
‘I’m gonna win, you know,’ she said, thumping her elbow on the table. He locked hands with her – again, a tingle – and ‘Go!’ she said.
She wasn’t weak, but she was still no match for him. He didn’t push her hand down immediately, but instead pretended to strain against her. ‘Oh, you’re so strong,’ he said, which made her expression more determined. He gave way a bit, letting her force his arm down as if he were losing, giving mock grunts and saying, ‘Oh no, you’re winning.’ As his hand came closer to the table he locked it up and held fast just a finger’s breadth above the wooden surface.
‘Pleased with yourself?’ she said. ‘Humouring me like that?’
Bel winked.
‘Pride before a fall,’ she said, and with sudden force that took him by surprise pushed his hand down the last little way to the table. She sat back, laughing. ‘I win!’
‘But –’
‘You men, really. You love playing that “oh, you’re so strong, you’re beating me” game. Put yourself in the most vulnerable position, at the worst angle, then one little push and it’s sneakiness beats muscles any day.’
‘That’s against the rules,’ said Bel.
‘Show me the rulebook.’
‘Rematch?’
‘I don’t think so.’
Bel laughed. ‘Damn it.’
‘So,’ said Jaya, ‘I know any honest keeper would honour our agreement. What does your father say?’
‘He says be careful if you ever meet a Sprite woman …’
‘Yes?’
Bel sighed. ‘…because your souls might fall in love before they tell you.’
He feigned relaxation. From the sparkle in her eyes juxtaposed with an overly casual sip of ale, she was doing the same thing.
‘So,’ she said, wiping her lip, ‘do you think that’s going to happen to us?’
Bel shrugged. ‘Not sure.’
‘Want to hire a room upstairs anyway?’
Bel had never finished a drink more quickly.
Corlas made his way through the Open Castle, nodding to guards as he passed. It was almost as if he watched from outside himself, noting how much he looked as if he belonged. Sometimes he forgot to think about it and the mask seemed real even to him. Over many years his fakery had become habit. At the beginning, after he’d learned about Iassia, it had been much harder. In knowing that he couldn’t leave lest the bird enslave him to some foul task, he had to appear as if the decision to remain were his own. He had talked at length with Fahren and Naphur and, admittedly, had found them more reasonable than anticipated. Naphur was a soldier at heart and right away spoke with Corlas as a familiar, cutting bluntly to the heart of any concern. Fahren assured him they had never deliberately separated him from his son, and backed up his words by giving Bel back to Corlas to raise. Perhaps all would have been forgiven if not for one thing. Even now, years later, he couldn’t wrap his mind around the greatest violation he’d ever known, which he was powerless to set right: his child was not whole.
Fahren had not hidden the fact that part of Bel had been ripped away by cursed magic and taken to Fenvarrow. All Corlas’s instincts cried out to do something about it, but what? He couldn’t leave the Open Halls for fear of being caught by Iassia. Even if he could, what was he supposed to do – march to Fenvarrow, to Skygrip Castle, and snatch his child from the hands of the Shadowdreamer?
Fahren had tried to console him. ‘Bel is healthy and happy,’ he’d said. ‘What crawled out of him was nothing but a dark worm, something he’s better off without.’ Corlas could see that Fahren was not as certain as he professed, but he’d pretended to accept Fahren’s words. Meanwhile, he couldn’t help but wonder, every single day, about his other boy. Did the Shadowdreamer care for him well, or was he being honed with harsh methods? What was he like; what did he look like? Did he look like Bel, or someone different? Did he know about Corlas? Did he despise Corlas for abandoning him?
When Bel was six, Corlas had listened to Fahren explain to him about the division of his soul. The old mage had simplified it for the young boy, making it sound as if Bel had been cleansed of an ugly ailment. ‘Normal folk have to live with their dark sides,’ Fahren had said. ‘You are blessed to be rid of it.’ It worried Corlas how Bel had taken that to heart – or perhaps ‘let it go to his head’ was a better description. More than once he’d had to explain to his boy that his transformation did not make him better than other people.