A/N: Finally updating again! Well, here's a short, boring chapter. I hope you all realize that this IS going to be getting somewhere eventually, even if it doesn't seem like it at all. If you don't understand anything, it's alright. I'll try to clarify later. Feel free to ask questions in your reviews; I'll address them in the next chapter either in the text or in a note. I didn't have anyone beta this, mainly because i wasn't planning on posting it, but I was itching to post for some reason. Anyway, thanks for reading!
Part III: A Rusting Sword
6 years after the invasion of Tortall
* * *
"Get outta bed, you're wastin' yer birthin' day!" Elsie's commanding voice sounded through the door as she continued to bang on it.
Tobe jolted out of bed with a start, bumping his head on the empty bunk above him. "Shit." He muttered to himself, pulling his shirt on with a yawn before moving to open the door.
"Happy birthday, little man!" the plump innkeeper said, grinning at his sleep-filled eyes and mussed hair. "You're eighteen years ol' today, did ye forget?"
"No, Aunt Elsie, how could I 'ave forgotten with folk like ye 'roud here to remind me at this time o' the mornin'?" Tobe said dryly.
"Oh, hush, boy. We let ye sleep in this mornin in honor of it!"
"Much 'preciated." He said with a yawn.
"Now I'll let ye wash yerself up an then ye come down n see what I've made ye to break yer fast." Elsie said.
"A-right, I'll be sure an' do that."
As Elsie closed the door and left him to his morning grooming, Tobe yawned and pulled some clean clothes out from his chest. He knew what Elsie had prepared for him—just like every year for the passed five years, she would have made hotcakes with maple syrup, fluffy eggs and a fresh loaf of her famous nut bread.
In truth, it really wasn't his birthday. And in truth, he really didn't know if he was eighteen or sixteen or nineteen or seventeen. Keladry had just named this day—the day she had met him eight years ago—his honorary birthday. And every year, Aunt Elsie made him a huge birthday breakfast, her husband Joseph took him to the leather maker and bought him a new pair of shoes, and Keladry gave him something that was essential to a warrior.
When he had finally made his way down to the kitchen, everyone had gotten to work but Keladry and Elsie herself.
"Mornin', sleepy head." Kel said with a slight smile.
"Mornin' Kel." Tobe replied sleepily.
"Go on and give your sister a hug, little man," Elsie told him. "I'm sure she got a great big gift fer ye this year, but you've gotta earn it."
Kel laughed and hugged her reluctant young friend tightly. "I know you hate hugs, Tobe, but I won't bite." She whispered before releasing him.
"I know, I know." He said, rolling his eyes before grabbing a plate from the cabinet and heading over towards the stove for his meal.
A faint grin passed over Kel's face, observing her growing ward with mixed emotions. Tobe was growing up quickly. He was now taller then she was, still thin despite all the food Elsie had stuffed him with over the last few years. He had that same boyish look that he always had, and she was still always hauling him out of trouble all over the busy city of Port Caynn. But even so, he was growing up in this new world—a world without knights, without a king, without the Own and without the chivalry of the world she had known. And it warmed her heart to see that he wasn't coming out so badly either.
"Keladry, honey, they're sayin' there's two shipful of men comin' into the port this night." Elsie said, dragging her from her thoughts. "They say they're ships from Carthak, so we're gon'need lotsa help servin' tonight."
"All right." Kel replied with a sigh. Ships from Carthak usually brought either soldiers or traders, both rude and unwelcome in Kel's mind.
Kel glanced over at Tobe before heading out the door. He looked up at her with a devlish look in his eyes, and then smiled to reveal the peel of an orange slice wedged between his lips.
Kel rolled her eyes, but laughed despite herself. Tobe never failed in making them all smile.
* * *
Joren unhooked the clasp to his cloak as he entered the inn, soaked to the bone by the downpour that hadn't ceased since he had left Corus three days ago. The inn was crowded and dark, and he had a sinking feeling that this one would be full as well. People seemed to fill every corner of this inn's main room, mingling beneath the haze from smoke and torchlight that hovered over the room. He pushed through the swarm of people until he reached the bar.
"How can I help ye this evenin'?" he heard the woman behind the counter say in a cheery voice.
"How do you think you can help me? This is an inn, isn't it?" He retorted brusquely. "I need a room." He added, letting his bad mood get the best of him. It wasn't until the woman dropped her pad of paper and pencil on the bar with frustration that he actually looked at her.
"We don't have rooms here for arrogant sons of bitches." She said matter-of-factly, staring him down with dangerously cold hazel eyes. "Who's next?"
As he was pushed aside by other customers, his mouth literally dropped open. He hadn't seen the girl for over ten years—but she didn't seem to have changed much from that stubborn girl of fifteen. True, she was now softer around the edges, more feminine, and looked much older—but she had the same brown hair, hazel eyes and that same ever-cool demeanor. He couldn't believe he hadn't recognized her right away.
"Mindelan?" he managed to ask in a voice of utter disbelief, pushing his way back to the area in front of her. "You're alive?"
"I could ask the same of you, Stone Mountain." She called over her shoulder as she filled four tankards of ale and set them on the bar for her customers. Her ease and coordination told him that she had been working there for quite some time. "We'd all thought you'd dropped off the face of the earth after you disappeared." He shrugged. "It's a shame you haven't." she said as she turned towards a rack of keys behind her and removed one. Joren winced slightly, having forgotten exactly how much she hated him. Or rather, how much they had hated one another.
"So you're working as a barmaid now? That's not surprising, I knew you'd live up to your full potential." He replied, not wanting to be outdone by her snippety remarks.
Kel turned towards him and slammed the key loudly down onto the bar. "Have a nice night." She said before turning and walking over to the other end of the bar, leaving Joren to think about at this brief, chance meeting with a forgotten enemy.
* * *
"Hey, Kel, who's that gent you were talkin' to before? Do you know 'im?" Tobe asked her about an hour later when things had begun to calm down."Who?" she asked quickly, wanting to avoid the question. Tobe, who was now at least seventeen years old, was persistently interested in her life before the Carthaki invasion.
"That blond one on the end of the bar there."
"Who, Joren? Oh. He was a few years ahead of me at the palace."
"So he's a knight like you?"
"I never said that." She said brusquely, ignoring him as best she could. The last thing she wanted to do was to relive the bad part of her training with Tobe now, when there was no use even thinking about the past.
"Kel, I know you don't like talkin' bout those days, but—"
"Just forget about it, Tobe!" Kel snapped, raising her voice slightly. "No good can come of this now. Especially not through him."
"Oh, all right then!" Tobe returned, matching her tone with an annoyed one of his own. "Mithros, Kel, ye don't 'ave t'be so moody 'bout things all the time! I was just askin' a question."
"Yes, well some questions are best left unasked." She told him quietly.
"Aye, all right then." Tobe sighed, respectful of her wishes not to talk about the past yet frustrated all the same.
But when Kel left him alone to get back to the customers, he eyed the blond man sitting in the corner with curiosity anyway. The man was relatively tall, lean but muscular, with hair so pale it glowed in the dim light of the tavern. Though his skin was quite pale, a scar that had healed to a color as white as snow sat dauntingly across the end of his left eyebrow. He looked tough and weathered as any warrior would, but Tobe knew instinctively that he was a lone warrior who would not easily respond to his many questions.
Tobe looked back at Kel, silently asking for her pardon even though he didn't know why it felt so wrong that he should talk to this man, and then took a deep breath.
Tobe cleared his throat before sitting down at the stool across from the blonde. "Good day, sir," Tobe said politely. "I'm Tobe, Keladry's brother. You do know her, don't you?"
"Keladry was the last of the Mindelans." He said in a monotonous voice without looking up from his drink.
"So, you knew the Mindelans? Before the—" he stopped, expecting him to understand what he meant.
"I knew her when she was a squire." Joren said quickly, sipping his drink as he tried to ignore the boy he had no concern with. "What's it to you, kid?"
"Well, as you know I'm not her brother. I'm her—well, she sorta took me in during the Scanran war when I was 'bout ten year old. Lived with her in refugee camps and then at the palace for a while. Before the invasion. She treats me like her brother, though, since her family's gone."
The man looked up at Tobe, his curiosity now sparked. "You lived at the palace?"
"For a year or two." Tobe replied. "I had hoped to join the riders."
"It's a shame you didn't get the chance." He then paused, as if he were deciding whether it was even worth continuing the conversation. "My name's Joren, by the way." He said finally. "I never made it to knighthood, so don't think I'm anything special." Joren then pulled at the cuff of his left sleeve, raising the material casually so that the skin on the inside of his wrist was visable.
Tobe's eyes widened when he saw the tiny black tattoo of a lioness on the pale skin of this stranger. He stared at Joren with a look of pure excitement. "You're a member of the Pride?" Tobe asked in a hushed voice.
Joren grinned slightly—thoughtlessly, almost—at the boy's reaction, wondering briefly if he had been that easy to read when he was his age. "What do you know of the Pride?"
"Enough to know that I should be in Corus, trying to become a member of the Pride as we speak."
Joren raised an eyebrow. "And why aren't you?"
Tobe rolled his eyes. "Kel." He said bitterly. "I don't understand, she used to want to do anything for Tortall's sake. Now, she'll have nothing to do with it. Any talk of life before the invasion and she shuts off all together. And if I even mention the Pride and she goes completely mad. And—" Tobe paused, looking a bit sheepish. "Well, as much as I want to go to Corus, I can't leave her, and there's no way she would ever come."
Joren pursed his lips, thinking. "So she wants to forget her life before the war."
Tobe nodded. "She lost so much, you know? I try not to blame 'er." Tobe waited for Joren to reply, but the older man was deep in thought, and said nothing. Finally, feeling somewhat awkward, Tobe spoke again. "What brings ye to Port Caynn?"
Joren looked back sharply at Tobe, eyes focusing on him with a suddeness Tobe found unsettling. "Do you know Lord Raoul?"
"Of course. He was her knight master."
"Yes." Joren said. "His niece and nephew are coming in from the Imperial University of Carthak tomorrow morning, and I'm too pick them up."
"Nobles? At the Carthaki University? I thought—"
"Don't be ridiculous." Joren snapped. "His sister married beneath her station and her children were common-born. Tarigue's men would never allow nobles—or ex-nobles, at this point—to even live freely, let alone study at the most prestigious University in the empire. After all—"
"I see you've met my old friend." Kel, who had suddenly appeared beside Tobe, said wryly. "Elsie needs you to see about an unruly horse in the second stable, Tobe. And she's not in the mood for your complainin' either, so don't try anything, you hear?"
"Of course." Tobe said, glancing at Joren as if to say 'I'll find you later'.
Kel caught the look as well, and gave Joren a look of her own when Tobe left. Joren hadn't seen anyone look at him with so much contempt in quite a while, and was even tempted to look away. "I don't even want to know what you two found to talk about." Kel said finally.
"We were talking about the Pride." Joren replied, watching her carefully for a response. She clenched her jaw, stiffened, and narrowed her eyes ever so slightly. "Of course, you know about that, don't you?" he prompted.
"Actually, I don't, nor do I care to." Kel said matter-of-factly. "Now, can I get that empty tankard out of your way?" she asked with mock courtesy.
"Sure." Joren said, waving his hand at her irritably.
Kel's disappearance left the young man with his own thoughts again.
So, Keladry of Mindelan didn't want anything to do with the revolution. He wondered if she knew that many of her former comrades were still alive. Would she want to join them if she knew Queenscove, Goldenlake, the Lioness, and even the king were still alive and plotting the demise of the Empire?
Keladry was sharp, agile, and often praised by all the members of the Pride for her skills in command and battle. And though she was his foe of old, he knew they would all rejoice in the knowledge that she was alive and joining the cause. The Pride needs a boost to morale that Mindelan just may be able to provide.
And how could he possibly get her to leave the security she has built here for a life of uncertainties and danger?
Tobe, who was then tapping his shoulder, dragged him out of his thoughts once again. Joren smiled slightly at the curious boy. Perfect.
* * *
Kel splashed her face with the water from her wash basin, exhausted from a full night's work. It was now early morning, and she'd only have three or four hours of blesséd sleep before having to awaken again and serve breakfast. She changed into a nightgown and slipped into her small yet warm bed. Her tired muscles tingled from being so suddenly at complete rest. After serving the unusually large group of guests and dealing with the appearance of Joren of Stone Mountain, Kel was glad to put the entire day behind her.She was just thanking the gods that there were no shouting soldiers or noisy lovers in the rooms around or above hers on that particular knight when she heard a gods-cursed knock on her door.
"Hold on!" Kel shouted as she rose, draped a shawl over her shoulders, and lit a candle. The unwelcomed guest waited outside until she opened the door. Kel's eyes narrowed.
"Sorry to—" Joren began, before she attempted to slam the door in his face. He caught the door with a gloved hand before it closed completely.
"Go away, I've got to get some sleep!" Kel said, forcing the door towards closing on his hand. Joren had to force his entire body mass into the crack before she sighed and permitted him to enter.
"I've got to talk to you, Mindelan, it's important." Joren said finally, closing the door behind him. Kel sighed, lighting the torch in her room with her bedside candle.
"All right, but make it quick." Kel said with a sigh.
"Fine, fine. It's about the Pride. How much do you know, exactly?"
"I know that it's a hopeless band of revolutionaries who are holding on to memories of a past that should be forgotten." Kel snapped.
"Do you know exactly who those revolutionaries are? Do you know who leads them?"
"No, not exactly, but—"
"Think about it. A Pride is the name for a pack of lions—and who's at the head of a pride of lions? A head lion and a—"
"Lioness." Kel breathed. "Do you mean to say that Alanna—"
"Is alive and working madly for the cause of Tortall? Yes, that's exactly what I mean. With Jonathan as her lion, no less. And they're flanked by Numair, Daine, Raoul, Buri, Thom, Roald, Faleron—even Queencove came from the Yamanis a year ago to join the cause."
Kel was shocked. "I—" she gulped. "I don't believe it."
"Believe me, it's true."
"Well--" she grasped for some sort of defense against this disturbing knowledge. "Well how is it that you, who are more of a traitor then a knight, came to work for Tortall's cause with the greats of Jonathan's court?"
"Even people like me don't want to see Carthaki barbarians in power here. Tortall is a fraction of what it once was." Upon seeing Kel's dubious expression, he rolled up the cuff of his sleeve. Look, this is the brand of the lioness." He said, showing her the tiny black lioness tattooed on his wrist. "Why would I make this up?"
Kel, not wanting to believe that the world free of her past that she had so carefully rebuilt was crumbling around her, didn't want to join him. "I don't know, but even if it is true, I'm not going to join you."
"You can save Tortall, Mindelan!"
"Yeah?" Kel yelled. "Me and what army?" Silence then followed, as both Joren and Kel were somewhat shocked by the sudden outburst. Then, in a lower tone, she spoke again, "Tortall is lost, Stone Mountain." She said softly. "There's no use trying to revive something that's been dead for years."
"You've got nothing to lose." Joren replied.
"But you're wrong." She told him. "I have everything to lose. See, I have a new life now. And the best thing about this new life is that you're not in it."
"So you're going to abandon Tortall—the Tortall you swore to serve for your entire life—for a live of mundane security in a world where you're in hiding? A world where you're a practically a prisoner, forced to deny that you were born into nobility?"
"I like my life right now, Joren! I have a job and a home that gives me a fien disguise and effortless safety, I have Tobe—and I'm going to be married to a wonderful man in less then a month. I'm happy, Joren, and I don't need you to remind me of all of that."
"So that's it, huh?" Joren spat back, obviously restraining himself physically. "You're just giving up on Tortall?"
"That's exactly it." Kel said angrily. "I'm glad I'm finally getting through to you."
Joren clenched his jaw, radiating anger. "I always knew you were a coward." He said bitterly, slamming the door to her room behind him as he left.
Kel, who was still reeling from the shock of it all, fell onto her bed as she held back tears. Remembering Tortall as it had been was too painful, even if Neal and Raoul and all the other people she was sure she had lost were actually alive. The land was still plagued by quakes, famines, and storms. Dom was still gone, her family still lay in unmarked graves, and there was still no way Tarigue's enormous army would ever come to ruin in her lifetime. Kel had meticulously contructed a wall in her mind against all hope of change, and she had grown comfortable with it.
Of course, that didn't stop Kel from wondering if she could find the spot, where, six years ago, she had buried her sword.
* * *
