Darz slipped into the Maze. Just like that, he vanished. She couldn’t even hear him. Whether or not he would return, she didn’t know; this was his chance to escape the burden of her dependence on him. She didn’t think he would turn from someone in need, but her confidence in her ability to judge the good in people was gone.
Grayrider stood motionless, drawing no attention. Kindle had bought the horse after he became a sergeant and trained Grayrider as a cavalry mount. Silence pressed on Ginger. The night shouldn’t be so quiet. No sand-chirpers. They were similar to crickets but even noisier, and usually they clacked until dawn. They must have gone silent because of her and her brother’s group. No one else was here. She had to believe that. Folding her arms against the chill, she scanned the hills beyond her hiding place.
On top of a ridge, two figures on horseback were silhouetted against the sky.
14
Desert Oath
Ginger gulped in a breath. The silhouettes had vanished—if indeed they had been there at all.
Voices drifted to her. “…have to stop them from taking our family’s holdings, or we would ride to J’Hiza with you.”
She closed her eyes with gratitude. That was Heath.
“Many people in town will stand against them,” Harjan said. “Ginger is well-liked.”
“People fear her, too.” That was Kindle. “The Archivist didn’t believe me about the powder. She thinks I’m bewitched.”
“Well, we should reach J’Hiza tomorrow,” Darz said. “If we ride most of tonight.”
Light leaked around the slabs, and a large man appeared between the two great stones. The light from his lamp nearly blinded her. Shielding her eyes, she clenched the hilt of the dagger and raised her arm to strike.
“Ah, Ginger.” Heath came forward, lowering the lamp so she could see him. He carried two travel bags over his shoulder. “They truly have done malice, if you fear even your own kin.”
“Never you.” Her voice caught. “I wasn’t sure who you were.”
Darz and Kindle stepped through the opening, then Harjan. Kindle had a sword strapped across his back, which was odd, because Darz had been using Kindle’s when he fought the sentinels, and as far as she knew, Kindle only owned one such weapon. It wasn’t until Heath pried her fingers off the dagger that she realized she was still threatening him with the blade. She sagged against the slab next to her.
“Ginger, honey, are you all right?” Heath asked.
She tried futilely to smile at him. “I will be.” Her voice felt as unsteady as her legs.
“She needs the salve,” Darz said.
“I have it here.” Heath set his lamp on a shelf of rock and dropped one of the travel bags on the ground. Opening the other, he rummaged through its contents.
“I saw someone on the ridge,” Ginger said. “Two riders.”
Kindle scanned the area, or at least as much as he could see between the slabs of rock. “Are you sure?”
“Actually, no.” She shivered and crossed her arms.
“Would you like the riding blanket?” Darz asked.
“I’m all right,” she said. Heath was watching Darz with a narrowed gaze, and she didn’t want to aggravate their tension. Besides, the blanket would scratch her back.
Kindle climbed up on one of the slabs and crouched on a ledge behind its jagged top. “It’s hard to see with that lamp. Can you douse it?”
“I’ll do it,” Harjan said quickly. He stepped around, putting himself between Heath and Darz.
Ginger glanced from Darz to her brother. Darz’s fist was clenched and his face dark; her brother had that look he wore when he defended someone he cared for. Harjan was pretending to be engrossed in the lamp, but she wasn’t fooled. He had positioned himself so he could intervene if Darz and Heath came to blows.
Harjan doused the lamp, and darkness surrounded them. Heath finally found what he was looking for in the bag, a vial she recognized, one of the salves from her supplies.
“We should treat your wounds,” he said.
“We don’t have time. What if someone comes after us?” She blanched. “Those riders could have been from the village.”
“I don’t see anyone,” Kindle said from his post above them.
“I’m afraid of their fire,” she whispered.
Heath reached out to touch her cheek as he had so often in her childhood, when he offered comfort. Then he stopped, caught by the strictures of her title. “We’ll take care of you.”
She rubbed her palm across her cheek, wiping away tears.
“Don’t cry,” Darz said. He also reached for her, and also stopped, though in his case it was because Heath put out an arm to block him, his gaze hard.
Darz frowned at him. “If you give me the salve, I’ll tend her injuries.”
Ginger had absolutely no doubt Heath would refuse—so she almost fell over when he handed the vial to Darz. Her brother spoke stiffly. “See that you take care with her.”
“You have my word,” Darz said.
Ginger squinted at the two of them. They were talking about more than salve. Currents of meaning and intent were flowing here that she didn’t understand.
Heath took a bundle out of the bag and gave it to her. “We brought your tunic and leggings.”
She nodded her thanks, too full of love and grief to speak. He looked as if his heart were breaking. “You’ll be well again,” he murmured. “Harjan, Kindle and I will set things right in the village before anyone can spread false tales about you.”
“Can you go back?” They were only three against a town. “It isn’t safe.”
“We have support.” His eyes were dark in the moonlight. “They went too far, Ginger. And still you survived. It is a sign from the Dragon-Sun. They cannot deny it.”
“It’s flaming blasted illegal,” Darz said, along with several other choice oaths.
Heath scowled at him. “My sister is a priestess, Goldstone. Show some respect.”
She expected Darz to growl, but instead he reddened. Then he said, “My apology, Ginger-Sun.”
“It’s all right….” She was just barely keeping to her feet. “I think I should sit down.”
“Ach,” Darz muttered. “I’m an insensitive clod.” He reached for her tunic. “I’ll spread that out, so you don’t have to sit in dirt.” Then he stopped. “No, I can’t do that. You’re going to wear it.”
Even now, Ginger couldn’t help but smile at his confusion. He could fight off nine men in Sky Flames and face ten days on the Dragon’s Claw without a flinch, but when it came to the details of women’s lives, he seemed completely lost.
“Here.” Heath withdrew a bulky roll from the travel bag and gave it to Darz. “Use this.”
Darz opened the roll into a riding blanket. “Yes, that will do.” He knelt and spread out the cloth. Then he awkwardly held out his hand to Ginger. “You can sit here.”
With his help, she let herself down. Heath stood watching, his posture so stiff, she wondered his muscles didn’t crack. She could tell he wanted to punch Darz. Harjan’s worried look was plain even in the moonlight. Kindle watched from his post as if he were ready to jump down at any moment. Yet they let Darz help her sit. Maybe after everything that had happened, the proscription against touching her seemed as ludicrous to everyone else as it did to her.
She knelt on the blanket, exhausted. Darz fumbled with the vial, and the honey-scent of the salve wafted around her.
“Do you have water?” he asked someone. “Soap?”
“Soap?” Heath asked. “Why soap?”
“She’ll heal faster if I clean and debride the wounds.”
Heath didn’t look convinced, but he seemed willing to take Darz’s word. He dug out a soap and water sac and several cloths, and gave them to Darz. Then he and Harjan moved away, leaving Ginger and Darz in privacy. Their behavior bewildered her, that they would let Darz do this, but she was too worn out to worry about it. Closing her eyes, she bent her head.
Darz
knelt behind her and laid a wet cloth on her back. It caught on a shred of her wrap, and she flinched when the cloth pulled a gash in her skin. Darz fumbled with the material, then slipped his hand under the ribbing that held the wrap over her breasts and clumsily snapped the wire. Even knowing he had to remove the cloth to clean her wounds, it was all she could do to stop herself from knocking away his hand as he peeled off what little remained of her wrap. Excruciatingly self-conscious, she folded her arms across her breasts.
“Ginger-Sun, I’m sorry.” He sounded as dismayed as she felt. “I don’t know how else to clean it properly.”
“It’s all right.” It wasn’t, and she didn’t know if anything ever would be again. For the second time in her life, the elders had torn apart her family. She knew Heath didn’t want her to go away, and she kept expecting him to challenge Darz. She needed help to clean her wounds, but it baffled her that they allowed Darz to give her that aid.
Then, suddenly, she understood. Of course. It was obvious. Darz had tried to tell her earlier: Your brother has spoken to me. Darz had compromised her. Then they had lain together under the Claw for over a day. And she would have to travel with him. Heath and Harjan had probably told Darz that if he didn’t marry her and restore her honor, they would kill him.
A flush of shame went through Ginger. She turned her head. “You don’t have to do this. If my brother is forcing you—”
“Ginger-Sun.” He spoke in a low voice. “It’s my honor as well as yours. I did this to you, even if I wasn’t the one who raised the whip or lit the fire.” Awkwardly, he added, “I can’t promise to be the husband a woman like you deserves. I’m a firebrand who knows curses far better than words appropriate for a highborn woman. But I’ll do my best.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“For having to marry me, I can see why. But I’ll endeavor to be tolerable.” When she gave a small laugh, he kissed her cheek, the barest touch of his lips to her skin. He was such a study in contrasts, rough yet gentle; full of rude oaths one moment, articulate and well-spoken the next; hot-tempered, yes, but he had never directed it against her. So far.
“We don’t have any marriage documents,” she said.
“Your brother and Harjan wrote the scrolls while they waited for us. They’ll keep a copy and give us the others.” He parted her hair and put it in front of her shoulders, then went to work cleaning her back. “They certainly got here fast. Apparently someone named Jalla lent them her horse. They say it’s the fastest in the village.”
“Jalla? You mean the Archivist’s daughter?”
“That’s what they said.” He paused in treating her wounds when she flinched. “She thinks you’re a treasure. She told your brother the blessing you gave her was a gift.”
“I’ve always liked her.” Bitterly she said, “Her mother hates me.” At least Kindle hadn’t said I told you so.
“They see you as a threat.” He spread salve over a burn on her shoulder. “And they can’t control you because of your status as a priestess. It frightens them.”
“But it doesn’t bother you?”
“Why should it?” he asked. “Hell, people claim our queen married a warlock or some such nonsense. And look at Aronsdale. The royal house of Dawnfield is supposedly full of mage women. If their kings can choose their brides that way, so can I.”
She started to smile, then jerked as he dressed the cuts on her lower back. It was hard to make spells of soothing when she hurt so much, but she managed a small one, and the pain receded.
When Darz finished her back, she turned around. She kept her eyes downcast and her arms folded over her breasts, too self-conscious to look at him. He cleaned the cuts on her face and the outer side of her arms, and smoothed salve over the burns. She couldn’t bring herself to unfold her arms or legs. He didn’t push; he left it up to her what she would allow.
Finally he set down his cloth and vial. “I can wait out there while you change, if you would like.”
“Yes,” she said softly. “That would be good.”
He went to join the others, leaving her alone in the pocket of rock. With relief, she peeled off the remains of her wrap and did her best to treat her other wounds. Then she put on the tunic and leggings, wincing as they scratched her skin.
When Ginger rejoined the others, Darz was readying Grayrider for travel. She hugged Heath hard, uncaring about the taboos, and squeezed Harjan’s hand. It was the first time she had touched either of them in years. None of them could hide their tears. She promised to send news after she and Darz were settled.
When Kindle climbed down from his post, she laid her hand on Grayrider’s flank and said, “We’ll send him back with a caravan. Your sword, too.”
Kindle sounded subdued. “In ever meant for this to happen. If I could have taken your place at that stake, I would have done it in a second.”
Ginger shuddered. “I’m glad you didn’t have to.”
He reached over his shoulder, and for a moment she thought he was drawing a weapon. But instead of the sword she had thought he was wearing, he pulled out two scrolls. “I got these from the archive at the temple.”
Puzzled, she took the scrolls. “What are they?” It couldn’t have been easy for him to fetch them; from what she knew of his reading, he could barely recognize enough symbols to piece out their titles.
Kindle indicated Darz, who was watching from the other side of the horse as he fastened the bags across Grayrider’s flanks. “He serves in the army. He thinks he can get a hearing with the queen, or at least her officers.”
Ginger knew then what one of the scrolls contained. She hadn’t expected him to give up the powder. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”
“If they have an interest in developing it—” He was stuttering. “I know I have no right—after what I did…”
“I’ll tell them you can develop it,” she promised. She lifted the other scroll. “And this?”
“I don’t know what it is—I mean, I do.” He spread his hands. “It’s your history. I always meant to ask you about it. But I didn’t want you to know I—well, I couldn’t read it.”
Never in an eon would she have thought Kindle, of all people, would realize how she felt about her meager attempts at scholarship. She had assumed she would lose the history. Her voice caught. “I can hardly tell you how much this means to me.”
He pushed his hand through his thinning hair. “It all turned out so differently from what I had hoped.”
“Be well, Kindle. Promise you won’t drink so much ale, yes? And don’t be embarrassed about the reading. Talk to Tanner. He can help you.” Then she added, “Don’t let the elders take away your title over this. You’re a good Flame Sentinel.”
“I’ll miss you, Ginger-Sun.” His flush was visible even in the moonlight. He stepped back as Darz came around the horse.
“We should go,” Darz said.
Ginger bit her lip, uncertain with her new husband.
Darz wasn’t quite ready, though. He pulled out the marriage scrolls to check the wording and added two statements. After his name, he penned Ar’Quaaz. It meant “Of Quaaz.” It seemed unnecessary to Ginger, until she realized other cities might have other Darz Goldstones. He started to rewrite his entire name, but after he smudged Darz, he gave up and left it alone. He also wrote that she and their children would be heirs to his name and all he owned. The marriage already made that true, and from what he had told her, he didn’t own a great deal, but it touched her that he wanted to be certain.
Ginger wasn’t sure how to be the wife of a soldier. So far he had been rough but kind. It could bode well for the future. She didn’t want to think about the other possibility, given what she had seen of his temper, that he would be prone to rages. Although he had never been violent toward her, she had never seen him after he had been drinking.
Darz packed the scrolls, then mounted Grayrider and helped Ginger up in front of him. They rode out into the desert and the night, headed into th
e unknown.
15
Topaz Passage
Ginger hadn’t expected to sleep, but exhaustion weighed on her, and she dozed as they rode. Several times she jerked awake when her head nodded forward. Another time she didn’t stir until Darz shifted her upright after she started to slide off the horse. Although the moon gave some light, they couldn’t ride fast. She thought Darz would stop, but either he didn’t need sleep or he managed to do it sitting up, too. Maybe he had learned in the army how to sleep on a horse without falling off. Grayrider plodded onward.
The next time she awoke, dawn was lighting the sky. A simmering arousal pulled her out of slumber, and gradually she realized Darz was stroking her breast. With each caress, he pulled the scooped neckline of her tunic down a little farther. Much more, and her nipples would be exposed.
Ginger made a noise of protest. With a sigh, he slid his hand to her waist and gave up his campaign on her beleaguered neckline.
“Light of the morning,” he said.
“And you,” she mumbled, too groggy to think of anything more intelligent.
“You’re my light,” he said, bending his head to kiss her cheek. Flustered, she pulled away.
“Ah, Ginger,” he sighed. “You torture me.”
Torture, indeed. He didn’t sound the least bit agonized; his voice had a drowsy, sensual quality that suggested pleasure more than anything else.
“I’m sure I don’t,” she said.
He laughed good-naturedly. “Ah, well, I suppose horseback isn’t the most pleasant way to spend your wedding night.”
Ginger wasn’t certain what to think about it all. It was strange to feel his touch after years of solitude, but not unpleasant. Now, however, she hurt all over. It would be days before she could imagine lying with a man. No, not “a man.” Her husband. He wasn’t part of the violence she had suffered in the village, but those events darkened everything in her life, including her response to Darz. Her sentence supposedly had nothing to do with sex, but an ugly current of lust had run through the way Dirk Bauxite treated her, Spark, even the Elder, though he tried to hide it, even from himself.