Clash (The Arinthian Line Book 4) (21 page)

“They only hope for the Legion to fall,” Bridget said, walking beside Leera, “and they believe we and Mrs. Stone are going to make that happen. But yes, I agree—we have to be very careful.”

“Belief is enough to make reality,” Constable Clouds threw in, waddling along behind with his cane, his son beside him. “If I am not mistaken, that is one of the foundations of arcanery.”

“I don’t mind being a
little
famous,” Leera admitted with a roguish grin, “as long as there are plenty of sweets. But what if someone turns us in for the reward?”

“Do not concern yourselves with being found out,” Mr. Okeke said, “we have taken careful and deliberate precautions.”

“We also have a plan in place in case the Legion
do
arrive,” Constable Clouds threw in.

Mr. Goss fell in line beside them. “We will distract them while you are secreted into the woods, away from harm. From here on, we will be organized and the village will be protected.”

Augum was doubtful. Sparrow’s Perch had been protected too, and by powerful arcanery no less. Made no difference whatsoever.

“Augum, are you all right?” Jengo asked. “You’re walking funny and you’re kind of pale.”

“I’m fine.” Fine except for the fact that he was hungry, exhausted, stiff, and in constant stinging pain—not to mention haunted by Sal’s exploding head.

“It’s his back,” Leera said. “Harvus slammed him against a tree. Then he got sliced by a bandit.”

“Can I try healing you later?” Jengo asked. “Been studying the yellow book like a madman. I’m going to become an excellent healer, you know. And I promise you won’t die.”

“Guess so.” Augum wasn’t entirely sure it was a good idea, seeing as Harvus barely trained Jengo, but what choice did he have? There weren’t any healers about. And besides, maybe part of that trusting thing was putting faith in those close to him. Leera didn’t help matters by giving him a look he interpreted as
It’s your body, but I wouldn’t
.

“What happened to Furhead anyway?” Jengo pressed.

“Bandits,” Leera replied. “Bandits happened. He tried to sell me, then he tried to sell the artifacts. Funny thing is, he once stole from the bandits and somehow thought it was a good idea to return.”

“So … he’s strung up on a pole?”

“Not quite.”

“But he’s dead, right? Tell me that he at least met his end.”

She surrendered a single nod.

Jengo’s face went serious, but then he simply shrugged. “There’s that then.”

“A life is a life, Jengo Okeke,” said his father. “Have respect for the dead.”

“Yes, Father.”

Augum swallowed. A life is a life. He had just taken a life. Will the Unnameables punish him later? Will karma find him and settle the score? Self-defense or not, a man was no longer alive because of his actions.
Two men now
.

Leera was watching him. “Something’s troubling you.”

He shrugged. What
wasn’t
troubling him?

A dark look crossed her face. “We have
that
in common now too.”

So she has also been thinking about it.

“What are you two talking about?” Devon asked, beaming.

“Nothing,” they replied in unison.

Mr. Haroun led them to his home, a two-storied manor nestled in the forest like Mr. Okeke’s cabin, in front of a small tree-clustered hill. Constable Clouds posted Lieutenant Briggs and Sergeant Cobb outside the doors. The two Legion soldiers refused entry to a gaggle of people, most of whom Augum did not recognize.

The group allowed entry was herded into a high-ceilinged hall, where everyone began taking off their shoes and coats, still chattering excitedly.

“Augum Stone, wanted rebel hero,” said a soft voice.

Augum turned. “Malaika,” he managed to say. “Uh, hi.”

Malaika Haroun curtsied. She had ebony skin and wore a spring-green dress. Her long, tightly-curled black hair was secured with a ribbon.

Augum felt his ears grow hot. Malaika had visited the trio with her father after their ordeal in Bahbell. She had this odd way of making him feel uncomfortable. “Malaika danced with me at the Star Feast,” he blurted to Leera.

Leera gave him an odd look. “Uh, I know.” She slipped her hand under his elbow. “He’s an awful dancer, isn’t he?”

Malaika giggled, eyes solely on him. “He is, yes, but I very much enjoyed teaching him.”

“That’s my job now.” Leera looked around at the exquisitely carved doors, the octagon-patterned inlay work on almost every wooden surface, and at the fine tapestries hanging on the walls. “Place is a palace,” she mumbled.

“It is true that Father has done well as a merchant, but his generosity has cost the estate a great deal. I fear him giving too much to charity while keeping little for his family.”

Augum and Leera opened their mouths to speak when a pale man with pinkish eyes and wearing a black servant gown appeared. “Please follow me, everyone,” he said stiffly, leading them into the parlor. He was middle-aged, with milk-white hair and a bearing that had him carry his hawkish nose high.

“She has no idea how much people are suffering in the countryside,” Leera whispered to Augum, watching Malaika rush to speak with an auburn-haired girl. “We’re all lucky not to be starving right now.”

Augum caught Malaika and her friend watching him as they whispered to each other behind their hands. They immediately giggled, shoulders hunkering, but resumed whispering and exchanging wide-eyed and mischievous glances.

Leera’s eyes narrowed, but she said nothing.

Haylee had a distant look on her face. “I lived in a place like this once …” She kept straightening her already rigid-straight blonde hair with her free hand. “I wish I was dressed for the occasion.”

Chaska was glancing around with a sneer. “Looks like a bunch of flashy junk to me. Nothing useful for a warrior.”

Haylee, using her cane as leverage, slowly turned to give him a scathing look that took in his new girth. “Warrior, huh?”

Chaska reddened and glanced down at his belly.

“Hey,” Bridget said to Haylee and Chaska, glancing softly between the two of them. “Be kinder to each other, you two.” The sorrow of what the trio had seen showed on her gaunt face, in the dark circles under her eyes, in the tightness of her pressed lips. Haylee and Chaska must have noticed because they dropped their heads, cheeks reddening from … was it shame, perhaps?

Suddenly there was a commotion at the entrance. Augum turned to see a cane fly at Briggs’ head. The man caught it deftly, receiving a stubby kick to his armored shin instead.

“Unacceptable!” cried a voice. “Panjita will not be denied her right of entry as an elder of this village! The tall carrot-head shall stand aside, as will his banana-headed companion!”

“
Mother, no—!
” Priya said, running to the hall.

“Father, do something, it’s that ghastly woman again!” Malaika called.

Mr. Haroun sighed before striding to the entrance, watched by a gaggle of snickering and gossiping faces.

“I am afraid Ms. Singh and Mr. Haroun have never quite seen eye to eye,” Mr. Okeke explained to Mr. Goss. “Or rather Ms. Singh has not quite approved of Mr. Haroun’s leadership. The last time Ms. Singh was allowed into his home, she denounced Mr. Haroun as a devil-worshipping ingrate who did not know his bottom from his ankle.”

“Dear me,” Mr. Goss only said.

“Though you can imagine her wording to have been a touch more … creative.”

This came as no surprise to Augum. There was not a soul in all of Sithesia Ms. Singh seemed to approve of.

“The so-called ‘town elder’ believes himself superior to Panjita!” Ms. Singh spat after finally being allowed entry. “Perhaps Old Haroun might stoop himself to recall that Panjita is a valuable and necessary part of the elder council of Milham.”

“Please forgive me, Ms. Singh,” Mr. Haroun said in a voice straining for patience. “Follow me.”

“Oh, so Haughty Haroun now thinks of Panjita as a follower, does he? Why is Panjita not surprised in the least?”

“Mother,
behave
yourself—” Priya hissed, leading a grumbling Ms. Singh to the parlor, where the elder Singh proceeded to give the servant a whack on the shins for not immediately offering her a glass of wine. Jengo could only sheepishly watch as his betrothed tried to exasperatedly manage the situation.

“… and the milky vermin will bring
red
wine, not wash water!”

“Ugh, why does she always have to come to our meetings?” Malaika loudly said to her auburn-haired friend, just as Priya drew near. “She’s hardly fit to serve and should retire from the council.”

Priya pretended to fiddle with her chartreuse shawl, though her cheeks reddened considerably.

“Try living with her,” Haylee muttered.

Soon a servant boy and girl of about the trio’s age or a bit younger appeared with trays of wine, both just as pale as the older servant and with the same milk-white hair. Their pinkish eyes would frequently land on the trio, though both looked away when caught. Augum wondered if they were related to Henawa.

“My lady,” said the servant boy, appearing near Leera. “Would you care for a sweet?”

“Now you’re talking.” Leera snagged three sugared biscuits.

“Lee, don’t be rude,” Bridget whispered.

“Nonsense, we’re the guests.”

“I don’t think—”

Leera frowned. “Let me ask then. Excuse me, uh—”

“—Gabe,” the boy said with a hint of a smile. He had the same high cheekbones and hawk nose as the middle-aged servant.

“Right, Gabe, uh, all right if I have a bunch of these?”

“My lady may have as many as she pleases, for she is prettier than—” Suddenly his eyes grew wide as he spotted someone behind them.

Augum turned to find the older servant glaring at the boy.

“My apologies, my lady,” Gabe quickly said, shuffling off.

“Please excuse my wayward son,” the elder servant said. “He is still an apprentice to service. There is much he has yet to understand.”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Leera said, mouth full with a biscuit. She turned to Augum after the man left. “I feel bad for getting him into trouble.”

“He likes you,” Augum said, feeling an unfamiliar prickle in his chest.

Leera waved the matter aside dismissively, readying to stuff another treat in her mouth.

Haylee watched the boy and girl work the room with quiet, nostalgic fascination.

“Strange to see servants in times like these,” Bridget said. “I wonder if they had aspirations beyond the service life.”

“They are lucky to have steady employment,” said a cool voice nearby. The trio turned to see an ebony-skinned woman wearing a maroon dress with a square-cut neckline. A brilliant ruby hung around her neck, catching the candlelight.

Malaika drifted to the woman’s side, taking her bejeweled hand in both her own. “Mother, this is Augum Stone, the hero I was telling you about.”

Mrs. Haroun extended a hand palm down. “Charmed.”

Augum shook it awkwardly.

One of Mrs. Haroun’s brows travelled far up her forehead and Augum already knew he had broken protocol—he was supposed to have kissed her hand or something.

“These are my friends,” he quickly said. “Bridget Burns and Leera Jones.”

“Indeed.” Mrs. Haroun swept the girls up and down with her eyes. Bridget and Leera curtsied, though the latter barely so.

Malaika flashed Augum a fawning smile. “Augum is
famous
, Mother. His poster is everywhere.”

“Uh, well, I’m not the only one on it,” he said, searching his mind for an excuse to get out of there.

Mrs. Haroun’s jowls hardened. “For all the wrong reasons, Daughter. His father is a prolific murderer, a monster of the first order.”

“But Augum is nothing like his father. He comes from good breeding. And besides, his great-grandmother is Anna Atticus Stone.”

Augum felt Leera tense up beside him.

“Indeed,” Mrs. Haroun said.

“I have found breeding isn’t everything,” Haylee said. Chaska was beside her, absently eating a cake portion he had pilfered off a silver tray.

Malaika’s eyes slowly travelled to Haylee, then to her cane. “And who might you be again?”

“Haylee Esmeralda-Ray Tennyson, of House Tennyson, the Rose Quarter, Blackhaven.”

“Ah. Well, I am sorry, but breeding is
everything
. Always was, always will be.” Malaika took a moment to inspect Chaska. “And he’s with you?”

Haylee hesitated, but then she straightened. “He is.”

“We’ve met plenty of times, remember?” Chaska said between mouthfuls. “Big place. Could house ten families.”

Mrs. Haroun was glaring at Chaska’s filthy hands. “Not as big as some of the people in here, it seems.”

Haylee reddened, opened her mouth to speak, when Malaika’s auburn haired friend appeared by her side.

“Malaika, you simply
must
introduce me,” she gushed. Her sapphire necklace matched her embroidered blue dress, and she had very fair skin.

Malaika hooked her friend’s elbow with a devilish smile. “Augum Stone, meet my very best friend, Charissa Graves. Charissa, this is
the
Augum Stone.”

Charissa extended a pale hand in the same manner as Mrs. Haroun. “Charmed.” She had a round simple face and wide-set eyes.

Augum took her hand and awkwardly gave it a tap with his lips. He turned to present Bridget and Leera. “And these are my—”

“—he really
is
a warlock,” Charissa said to Malaika. “And he’s so …” She gave her a meaningful look.

“I
know
, right?” Malaika replied with a mischievous smile, before growing serious. “Now settle down, we don’t want to appear rude before such distinguished company.” Her eyes flicked to Chaska. “Well, mostly.”

Bridget was staring at Malaika, Charissa and Mrs. Haroun with a mixture of horror and shock, but she said nothing.

Charissa gave Malaika’s elbow a tug. “Are you going to have him recount some heroic tales? Bet you he gets into all sorts of trouble.”

Leera turned to Augum and loudly declared, “Don’t you love it when people talk about you as if you’re not there?”

Bridget curtsied. “Forgive us, Mrs. Haroun, Miss Haroun and Miss Graves. We have had a very trying couple of days.”