Amber Hilted Dagger
Chapter 4: Larger Lessons
The sky and water mirrored each other over Udayapur's harbour, both the troubled dark blue of the sea before a storm. The fresh breeze offered cooler air, relenting the humid heat that turned Elsha's stomach, and blowing the smell of spices and pork out of her nostrils.
It was a shame that she would have to get back inside when the storm broke; already she could see anxious vendors pulling their carts under cover. As a girl, the lightning always frightened her, but Sarrain's electrical storms gave her a release and freedom that she rarely felt elsewhere.
The view from the villa's top balcony was excellent; near the western gate, Elsha could see the entire city stretched out before her. Brightly tiled roofs, pleasure gardens, banners and temples were a vista unrivaled almost anywhere else in the Eastern Lands. The oncoming storm cast a dark wash over the scene, chasing K'mir and lowlanders alike out of the street, scurrying like brightly coloured ants. The coming wind brought whiffs of scent to her; cooking rice and dumplings, the last strips of meat being handed out by diehard stall owners before the storm broke.
"You'll catch cold."
She had known Alaric was watching her from the doorway for quite some time; he did that sometimes, and she would look up to find a half-measuring glitter in his eyes, looking like a man who wants something but is not sure he could take it. Sometimes she knew what those glances meant, and she was not sure if she liked the feeling, or not.
One hand poised on ironwork of the railing, she looked around, the wrought iron digging into her legs. "You just want me off this balcony. I'm not going to fall off."
He didn't move, but acquiescence entered his eyes. "Will you come down?"
Reluctantly, she got off the balcony and bade the storm silent good-bye. Alaric shut the balcony doors after her, and led the way downstairs. The house was a quiet one; the woman Alaric hired to cook stayed in her room on the ground floor, or with her son, when she wasn't in the kitchen. A small brazier warmed the sitting-room that they retired to. It was an odd one, littered with books, weapons, and papers. Elsha picked up and awl and a pair of wristguards that she had forgotten to mend before dinner, but set them down again as she saw Alaric standing by his desk. The uncomfortable expression in his eyes made her curious.
"I got this from the Guild today," he said, not meeting her eyes. "I thought it would be appropriate, seeing as you'll need it, soon." Elsha stepped toward him cautiously. And stopped as he pulled open a desk drawer and handed her a knife.
Elsha was silent for a moment, studying it. The pommel was an amber, nearly an inch in diameter, but streaked through with darker orange. The swirling colours in it reminded her of the clouds in a storm, frozen and crystallized for the rest or time. Her thumb traced across the silver holding the gem in, and moved down the wire hilt- a sign that he would still allow her to work as an assassin, something she hadn't had the temerity to ask him yet. She read the jeweled signs on the hilt like a scholar might read a book, or, more accurately, like a noble might read tabards of state. The twisting design along the crossguard indicated a high position, which, she belatedly remembered, fit her. "Thank you. It's beautiful." She looked up.
The expression was back on his face. Setting down the knife, Elsha caught his eyes. His face didn't change, and she could read expressions from a usually unresponsive mask.
He is afraid of me. Quietly and slowly she reached for his hand, feeling that if she were to make a sudden noise he would bolt, like a deer.
"What are you so afraid of, Alaric?"
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Her voice startled him. It was low, and almost soothing. Elsha- a girl of thirteen still, though sometimes he could not believe it, was asking about his fear.
Fear? What do I fear? A weakness, and something I have no place for in my life. Something that destroys me and the people around me. His eyes refocused. In the dark, her green eyes looked almost black. Too young and too old; she was more than he could really understand. But I am afraid of her. She knows that. Understands that. Fear destroys the people around me.
For two weeks travelling, and two weeks in Udayapur, he had kept her at arm's length. After the day of her attempted kidnapping in Berat- something his detractors paid for dearly- he'd endeavored not to touch her. Too many things could go wrong. It doesn't matter how old she is inside. I'm twenty years older than she is. They were only thoughts, though. Thinking would not banish the hand wrapped around his.
A cautious whisper interrupted his thoughts. "Alaric?"
Fear destroys the people around me. I cannot be afraid.
He raised his other hand to her face, and touched his mouth to hers.
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The kiss was gentle and unexpected. His left hand brushed her cheek and tilted her head closer to him. Breathlessly Elsha followed the touch, and firmly pushed uncertainty out of her mind. Her hand deserted his to twine around his neck. Words- there were no words. No thoughts, nothing. Simply touch and feel.
The kiss broke a dike that had grown in their silence. Unable to hold back or call a halt, touch and feel took her over. He lead, praying that she would follow, and she followed, hoping that he would lead. The storm disappeared into oblivion as he picked her up, begrudging the moment without a kiss, and took her down the hall to his room.
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There are things I cannot say. Things that I cannot express. Silence has been a part of me too long for my mouth to open easily for words to spring out.
I shan't think of her as a child ever again, because she isn't. She is something too delicate and pure on one side, and on the other, she is too cynical and world-weary, too inured to silence. Barely a sound, out of her. Too many nights hiding on a rooftop breathing quietly for her to make noise. Just small ones- things that finally did slip out.
Ler, what made you raise your daughter like this? What possessed you to strip her of emotion, like you would a boy? Surely you were not afraid of her like I was. Afraid of your daughter for what she could be. Perhaps you were just afraid of loving her like you would the son that you and Selen lost. Your eldest, no one could ever love wholly- there isn't enough of her there. Of Elsha? Too much.
I remember your words on parting- Ler, did you really beat her? I am watching your daughter sleeping now, and the river of red hair falling across her back does not hide a thin scar across your shoulder, running up the back of her bare neck. Did you put that there? How did you find the courage? She infuriates me, sometimes, being headstrong and stubborn and stupid that she is, but I couldn't beat her. I never will be able to. When it counts, Ler, she knows who her king is. She will listen to you. And if I ever rose a hand to touch her… I wouldn't be able to beat her. Somehow it would turn to what we just did…
This is some proposition you got me into, my friend. Some proposition indeed.
Not being able to help it, Alaric leaned over to kiss the small scar on the back of Elsha's neck. She murmured something in her sleep, and he laid back down on the pillow, joining her in sleep.
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The morning was clear and cool when she woke up, the world washed clean with rain. Blinking at a dawn sky through an unfamiliar window, Elsha tried to orient herself.
Alaric ran his hand over her arm again, reminding Elsha what had woken her up. Sometime during the night she had moved from sleeping on her stomach to curling up on her side, leaving her back to him and facing the eastward window. The immediate intimacy of being with him dawned on her as her rested his head on her neck, whispering into her ear. "Time to get up soon."
With a small groan she turned over. Alaric drew back onto his own pillow, watching her. Carefully, she studied his face. The fear was gone, or diminished, at least. Something told her that the fear was something that wouldn't be going away soon. Give him time. The thought made her feel older than he was, for a moment.
He put a hand on her cheek, and she let it rest, basking. The urge to sleep again, her exhaustion, battled with her normal habit of getting up early and a desperate need to use the privy.
She got up slowly, stretching out arms and legs leisurely. Alaric was finished dressing by the time Elsha had climbed out of bed.
Distantly, a temple bell chimed in the city. Alaric kissed her, lingering for a moment before pulling away. "Good morning, Elsha."
She smiled back at him and sighed as he shut the door, closing her eyes for a few minutes. Feeling a trifle more rested, Elsha pulled on Alaric's dressing gown and trooped off to her own room to find clothes.