The draga eyed him with a curious mix of suspicion and admiration. “Good thing you aren’t welcome among us or Halani might find her place as the camp’s storyteller usurped in no time.”
Gharek found the comment odd but didn’t get the chance to ask what Malachus meant. The free traders broke down their camp with impressive speed. A life on the road rarely guaranteed long-term safety, and free traders were only tolerated in most places and fiercely unwelcome in others. No doubt this camp and others like it were practiced at pulling up stakes and leaving in a hurry when things turned unfriendly.
He and Siora stayed out of the way until Kursak returned, leading a muscular gelding, saddled and bridled. Halani walked beside him, holding a bulging pack. She passed it to Siora. “Toreplace what you lost in the Maesor,” she said, her smile lighting her gray eyes. “Enough supplies for two days. There are also two blankets tied to the saddle.” She squeezed Siora’s hands. “I’ve thanked you before but will do so every time I’m fortunate enough to cross your path. You helped my mother, who’s most beloved and not just by me.” Her features hardened when her gaze landed on Gharek. “My words for you are unkind, so I won’t speak them except to say I’ll pray for your daughter’s safety. Too many of the innocent suffer for the sins of the corrupt.”
Once more regret sat like a stone on his spirit. He bowed low to her. “I thank you for those prayers. And you’re right.” What more could he say beyond an echo of his apology, and he’d always known that no forgiveness would come from that quarter. He didn’t resent her for its lack. In her place, he’d be far less sanguine.
Kursak held out his hand to Gharek, not in farewell but to demand payment for the horse. When he quoted the amount, Gharek grimaced but emptied out the required number of coins from his money purse into Kursak’s palm. It left him just enough to fund a bribe and buy a loaf of bread. Thank the gods for Halani’s generosity or he and Siora would have to cinch their belts a little tighter during the last part of their journey.
“Goodbye, ghost woman,” Asil yelled as she skipped toward them.
Halani sighed and turned to head off her mother. “No need to shout, Mama. Go back and help pack the camp. I already told Siora goodbye for both of us.”
Asil nimbly avoided Halani’s grasp, the petulant jut of her lower lip warning her daughter she had no intention of obeying. “You might have told her, but I haven’t.” She grasped Siora’s hand.“Goodbye, ghost woman,” she said before swiftly looping a woven cord over Siora’s head. “A charm of good health and good earth.” Her fingers pressed the tiny clutch of dried flowers and beads attached to the cord against her rescuer’s breast. “A gift for you.”
Siora folded her hand over Asil’s and gave a squeeze. “Thank you, Asil. I will treasure it forever as well as the moment I finally heard you speak.”
Asil stepped back, switching her regard to Gharek, who for the first time in his recollection found it difficult to meet someone’s eye. The child-woman regarded him, unsmiling now, and there was about her scrutiny the judgment of one far older and wiser. “Do you love your child, cat’s-paw?”
The sudden mature tone and the question itself startled not only him but Halani and Kursak as well.
“I do,” he replied. “More than life itself. She’s everything to me. The reason I still breathe.” Even if he didn’t still hope. Siora’s hand rested on his arm, a reassuring touch, though he didn’t take his eyes off Asil.
She maintained that same measuring regard, a different woman altogether in that moment. “Then do better. Make her as proud to be your daughter as you are to be her father.”
Siora’s fingers tightened on his arm. Gharek struggled for a reply that would do justice to such straightforward wisdom that allowed no excuses and took no prisoners. “You’re wise, madam. I can’t remake the past but know I’m truly sorry for what I did to you and Halani.”
She sniffed. “Just don’t do it again or to someone else,” she said, and the youthful timbre had once more returned to her voice.
“I won’t.”
Halani didn’t look nearly as convinced of Gharek’s sincerity as her mother did. “You’ve said goodbye, Mama. Let them go. They have a long ride back to Domora.” She coaxed Asil back toward the wagons and the hive of activity there.
Gharek helped Siora onto the horse’s back first, then mounted behind her. Malachus had joined Kursak to see them off. He gave their gear a last check before stepping back. “You won’t lose much time riding double. Suti here is a solid mount, and Siora isn’t much bigger than that satchel Halani packed for you, so it won’t stress the horse.” He studied them for a moment without speaking. “I’m glad you didn’t kill Siora when you found her.”
He and Kursak both grinned when Gharek and Siora said in unison, “So am I.”
Gharek reined the horse toward the road, Siora’s slight frame hot against his chest. He didn’t mind. In fact, he savored it. A thought occurred to him, and he nudged the horse back to where the two men stood watching. “Before I go, draga, tell me something.”
A shuttered expression passed over Malachus’s features and he visibly stiffened, as if he knew what Gharek was about to ask and braced for it. “What is that?”
“How did the Spider of Empire taste?”
Kursak guffawed loud enough to make others in the camp turn and stare. Malachus’s sigh was long and pained. He pinched the bridge of his nose with finger and thumb and closed his eyes for a moment. “I hear this question in my dreams sometimes,” he said in a resigned voice. He opened his eyes to settle a wry gaze onGharek. “I wouldn’t know. I didn’t eat the empress.” He pointed to the road. “I suggest you don’t delay before I change my mind about what I prefer for supper and put cat’s-paw on my plate.”
Siora shook against Gharek with silent laughter. He held back his own amusement, gave a nod of farewell, and turned the gelding onto the road leading back to Domora.
He kept the horse at a canter, with breaks into an easy trot so as not to fatigue the animal. The moon was bright enough for now to see any obstacles or pitfalls in the road, but the clouds thickened above them, dimming that brightness. They’d have to stop soon. He was disappointed but traveling in heavy darkness risked riding over dangerous ground and laming the horse he’d just bought with almost everybelshain his possession. He relayed the news to Siora.
Instead of a protest, she offered a suggestion. “There’s a well-used drover path not far from here and a wet-weather stream just off the path with shelter in the trees and grazing for the horse. We’ll need to leave at first light or keep company with herders and their livestock.”
She continuously surprised him. “You’ve camped here before?”
Siora nodded. “Many times when I was younger. My mother and I moved from village to village to shade-speak. Often it was safer to camp than stay in a town and sleep on the streets. Sleeping in a tavern or its stable was too expensive most of the time anyway. The place I mention was one of our favorite spots.”
He followed her direction, guiding the horse into a section of overgrown pasture dotted with clusters of trees tangled in underbrush but still passable enough for the horse to navigate withoutstruggle. They found the stream Siora described and a place to camp under the lacy drape of a willow tree’s branches.
Gharek took care of the horse, tethering him on a long lead rope to graze nearby and drink from the stream. He brought saddle and horse blanket with him to where Siora set up their camp for the evening. It wasn’t the comforts he’d seen in the free trader encampment, but it was a huge improvement from the bare ground and knotted ropes that was the hospitality Zaredis had offered.