The Prince of Exiles (The Exile Series) (36 page)

Tomaz snorted, the sound of a cave-in, and rose, pulling himself up off of Raven and holding a hand out to help him to his feet. Raven clasped it and found himself righted, trying to ignore how easily he’d been distracted. Tomaz caught sight of Leah and waved to her. They moved out of the sparring ring and let two other Kindred have at it.

“Leah,” Tomaz said with a huge, beaming smile that cut through his beard like a stray ray of sun through gathering dusk. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Just wanted to see if you guys were going to the Midwinter Festival tonight.”

Raven was surprised by the question, and without thinking clearly, blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

Leah frowned and cleared her throat.

“Fine,” she said, turning to go, “I just wanted to make sure. No need to be rude.”

“Wait!”

She stopped and turned back. He and Tomaz looked at each other, smiled simultaneously, and went to their cloaks that they’d left on the side of the ring. Raven returned first, and held out his hand.

Leah cautiously held out hers, and he pressed something into it. Her skin was cold, and she’d obviously just come from outside. Standing this close he could see that the tip of her nose was red.

She opened her hand and saw inside Raven’s present – a long, slender piece of wood that he had whittled down a little bit each night, until it had taken on the shape of a flower. She just looked at it, not speaking.

“It’s a bookmark,” he said quickly, worried it wasn’t clear. His carving skills were rudimentary at best and it was pretty rough, but considering it was his first try at whittling in his entire life, he felt it was at least a credible effort.

“It started out as a sprig of lavender,” he admitted, feeling a little sheepish, “since I know how much you and Tomaz like the stuff. But it kind of morphed into a rose by the end of it. It’s thin enough that it won’t break a book’s binding and long enough so you won’t lose it, I know you hate that so I made sure.”

She still wouldn’t look at him, and he was starting to become more and more anxious. Did she hate it and was just trying to find something nice to say about it that wasn’t a bold-faced lie? Did she think it looked more like a tulip? Maybe he should have said it was a tulip?

“Anyway,” he said, taking a step back and turning to Tomaz, “I bet he’s got a great one for you – he gave me a puzzle box that was fantastic, it –”

She grabbed his hand and slipped something into it. He looked down, his stomach suddenly sinking – she’d given him back his present. He was a fool, he knew he shouldn’t have given her anything, it was far too presumptuous, he should have just –

In his hand was a long, slender piece of wood, beautifully carved to look like three ravens in flight. The detail on it was absolutely stunning; it made his look like something a four year old had carved in the dark with one hand and a spoon. The lines flowed perfectly, one into the other, and the wood was dark, almost black. He’d never seen anything like it.

“It’s heavier than usual,” she said softly, “I know you like that. And it’s also a little bulky so it’ll crease the spine and hold it open, I know you hate when the books close on you before you’re done reading the page.”

He looked up at her, and she looked back.

“Not to be insensitive,” Tomaz rumbled, “but I have a pretty great gift too.”

Leah and Raven sprang apart, both taking several paces away from each other with an urgency that implied the ground had caught fire.

Leah went to Tomaz and they exchanged gifts, smiling and joking as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and Raven felt a rush of relief. Leah gave Tomaz a collapsible pair of beard-trimming scissors made specifically for traveling, and he gave her an ingenious wrist-sheath, something that she immediately strapped to her arm.

She flourished and a dagger sprang into her hand, ready to use. There was an appreciative round of applause from nearby; they turned to see that a few of the gathered soldiers waiting for the sword sparring ring had been watching.

“Are you going to show us what you’ve got today, Eshendai?” One of the men asked. He was tall and thin as a whip, with a sense of coiled strength about him.

“Hah!” She said twirling the dagger effortlessly between her fingers. “Not a one of you could touch me.”

There were several catcalls when she said this, all in good humor, and she struck a fearsome stance, brandishing her weapons. A good number of them laughed, and once again Raven was surprised by how social she was among friends. For the first few months he’d known her she’d been withdrawn to the point of fault. But now, here, she was at home in her role as something of a living legend; daughter of General Goldwyn, Spellblade, Eshendai to the giant Tomaz Banier, one of the heroes of the battle at Aemon’s Stand, the one who’d found the Prince of Ravens and brought him to the Kindred, one of the only living Kindred to infiltrate a Seeker’s lair and escaped unharmed. He’d heard all the stories, if not lived them with her.

“Let’s make it interesting then,” Raven called out suddenly, speaking over the soldiers gathered around pretending to spar with Leah. He strode forward and grabbed his single-sided blade from the rack – while it was just steel, it was well made, and it felt good in his hand. He turned to her.

“One match – you win, you never have to spar with me again. I win, you spar with me anytime I want.”

There was an appreciate murmur at this – Leah was infamous for training exclusively on her own, with the one exception of Tomaz. She’d only ever sparred with Raven once, and she had won quite handily.

Her green eyes watched him carefully as he swung the blade around, keeping his muscles warm. The Kindred watched him too and began to nod, smiling and egging the girl on.

“Come on Leah!”

“Show him how the Kindred fight!”

“Yeah – beat this Imperial dog once and for all!”

There was laughter here at the good-natured dig and even Raven smiled, caught up in the good feeling of the arena. There was a camaraderie here that didn’t exist elsewhere; in here, everyone was equal.

“You scared of the little prince?” A woman taunted.

“Come on Leah,” Tomaz roared. “Kick his scrawny butt and you’ll never have to worry about it again!”

Actual cheers sprang up at this, but Leah didn’t move.

Raven smiled.

“Scared?” He asked her. “Or just out of practice?”

“Ooooo,” they all crowed, sure she wouldn’t rise to the challenge.

Leah stepped into the ring.

Everyone went silent – and then began to motion frantically to others nearby. Whispers spread to the other arenas, and a few men snapped to their friends and extra benches were brought.

Leah undid her cloak and threw it carelessly to one side. She wore her tight-fitting green and gray woodsman-clothing underneath, the wrists and ankles tied down to prevent any possible hindrance of movement. Raven looked around as the ring became encircled with Kindred eager to see what would happen, and was surprised to find he didn’t feel nervous. Not nervous at all. In fact, he was pretty confident he’d lose this fight, and when you’re sure of losing, you’re just happy to go along for the ride.

Without warning, Leah turned and launched herself at him, long, wicked daggers flying – she hadn’t even bothered to attach edge guards. She was known for that – she had such control over her movements that she never left a mark, even though her blades were razor sharp.

Raven defended with a sweeping move called Fisher Slaps the Water, blocking both daggers and using her momentum to spin them both around, switching places. She turned to him and smiled, and he felt his blood chill. There was something far too predatory in that look.

She came at him again, moving like the wind, twisting and dancing. The daggers lanced out, testing, probing, not striking. She was getting a feel for him.

So he gave her a feel. He let himself go and flowed through the Guardian sword forms he’d learned in the Fortress and practiced with Tomaz. He assumed the most aggressive stances; Tiger Claws the Deer; Fire Born in Wind; Crashing Fall of Earth.

His hands became slick with sweat on the grip of the sword, but the tight wire that bound the hilt kept him steady. He moved through the aches and pains gathered from his bouts with Tomaz, dancing with the sword as Tiffenal and Dysuna had taught him to do so long ago.

And Leah fought back with a grace like nothing he’d ever seen. While Tomaz was the epitome of a fighter, with the strength and stamina of ten men to back up the training of a lifetime, Leah was an artist; each motion was a brush stroke on a blank canvas, each step a motion in a dance. Every move Raven made was met with the flash of her steel daggers; each blow, no matter how hard, met and deflected.

And still they fought.

Leah was trying to strike him now; her mood had changed. Her face had started out as playful, smiling and twinkling with friendly mockery; it was now full of something primal, something deep, and Raven knew the look was mirrored on his own face. Neither of them had landed a blow, neither had even come close. And now she was trying – she wanted to end this, he could feel it. She could feel it too he knew, the rhythm and sway of the fight, the intricate moves of the dance, closing and parting, only to clash again in a swirl of arms and a flash of steel.

He strove forward, his arm grazing hers, his blade caught and parried and repulsed, only to swing around his head and bite back in toward her once more. She lost a step on him and he gained a momentary space advantage. She feinted left, then moved underneath him, rolling to the right, almost breaking free, before he grabbed her arm and spun her back around, forcing her to her feet, forcing her to face him, as he touched his blade to her chest.

They stood there, frozen in tableau, breathing heavy; their eyes were locked on each other, and for that moment, nothing else existed.

And then there was applause around them, and the moment broke; they stepped apart, and Raven realized he had won. He dropped his blade from where he’d rested it against her chest, and bowed his head to her, breaking his eyes away from her piercing stare.

The cheers intensified, and suddenly there were Kindred around them, slapping him on the back, praising him. Tomaz was there, roaring at him that he felt cheated, that Raven had never fought that well against
him
, and swearing he’d beat it out of him if he had to work him twelve hours a day the whole year round.

Raven turned back to look at Leah, but she was gone. He spun to look toward the entrance to the Bricks and for a moment thought he’d missed her. But then a figure near the door, one of several headed out, turned and looked back at him. She was holding a small, slender piece of wood tight in one hand. She met his gaze with eyes that burned; she smiled, a wry, sideways twitch of the lips, and then was gone.

***

“Stop fussing princeling, we’re already late.”

Raven looked up at Tomaz, feeling suddenly quite offended. What was he talking about, fussing? He just wanted to make sure his clothing was straight. It was an important night for the Kindred.

They’d made it back from the Bricks in time to take baths, trim their beards, and change. Apparently it was tradition for the Kindred on Midwinter Night to dress in black, so Raven had complied, even though it reminded him unfavorably of the dress robes he’d had to wear in the Fortress. He was wearing the tight fitting black shirt he’d stolen from the Healer back in Roarke, a long black cloak, and wide, thick trousers tucked into knee-high black boots that Tomaz had borrowed for him.