Redamancy Page 3

  The sea had sung its lullaby; he knew well enough the futility of resisting it.

  Chapter Two

  “Khouri.”

  Ngh.

  “Khouri, come on. It’s breakfast time.”

  Ugh.

  “I know you’re awake, brat. I can see you smiling at me,” Sorin warned just before Khouri felt the pillow beneath his head disappear with a yank. His head bounced against the mattress, and he was forced to open his eyes to the overly bright world. Sorin’s face was right above him, his grin annoying and handsome in equal measure.

  “Let me sleep,” Khouri mumbled, taking a weak swipe at Sorin. “‘m tired.”

  “I don’t care,” replied Sorin, yanking the blankets off next. The cool air wrapped around Khouri immediately, chilling him to the bone. Khouri yelped and made a grab for the stolen sheets, but Sorin just held them out of reach, a laugh in his eyes that Khouri certainly didn’t feel like sharing.

  “Why are you such an ass?” he muttered, wrapping his arms around himself as he shivered. He yanked the big shirt he wore over his knees, curling up in a ball to preserve what little warmth he had left. His eyes burned, and his jaw clicked as he yawned. “It’s way too early to be awake. Who wakes up this early? It’s unnatural.” Sorin rolled his eyes, not an ounce of pity in him. “It’s well past dawn Stop being dramatic and get up already. Breakfast’s ready, and I guarantee you don’t want the kids to be let loose on us in here.” He tossed the crumpled blankets on the floor beside the bed, shoving them away when he caught how Khouri contemplated them. “Put on some clothes; you’ll warm up faster.”

  Khouri frowned. “Then toss me my bag,” he said, unwilling to put his bare feet on the cold wooden floor. Sorin gave him a look. Khouri sighed with a fond smile. “Please toss me my bag?”

  “You are such a handful in the morning,” the man muttered, grabbing the strap of Khouri’s bag and tossing it to the bed. He ignored Khouri’s thanks and dedicated himself fully to getting ready.

  “You're really in a hurry this morning,” Khouri observed dryly. Usually Sorin spared him a little more attention than this. “Is it really that big a deal if the kids come in? How many are there? Are we that outnumbered?”

  The grimace on Sorin's face was nearly comical. “You have no idea. There are three of them,” Sorin began as he dug through his own bag for a clean shirt. “The oldest, Heddi, is about twelve, I think. Then there’s Jarrett, and he’s around ten? God, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen them. Can’t even keep them straight at this point. Youngest is Yula. Probably about eight.”

  “That’s so young,” Khouri murmured, eyes wide as he thought back to when he had been a kid. He doubted Mastha’s children had lived as roughly as he had at that age but still. He let the conversation distract him from the cold as he sat himself up, shuffling through his meager selection of clothes. “When was the last time you saw them?”

  Sorin pulled a shirt over his head and stared at the wall, scowling as he did the mental math. “It’s been at least five years, give or take,” he answered eventually. “I don’t tend to find jobs in this area. The towns are too small and too spread apart for many bounties.”

  Khouri cocked his head. “So, we won’t be working while we’re here?” They’d had plenty of sizable bounties on the way over, so Khouri didn’t mind the break, but he hadn’t really thought Sorin the type to take a vacation.

  Sorin shot him a look Khouri couldn’t quite read. “Oh, we’ll be working, alright,” he muttered. “You’ll be working harder than you’ve ever worked in your life, I’d say. Now, get dressed already. You have to meet the brats sooner or later; they’ll break down the door if you don’t come to breakfast.”

  Something in the tone of his voice made Khouri think it wasn’t an idle threat. He looked at Sorin carefully and then down at his open bag. Of all the outfits he’d been able to bring above with him, he wasn’t sure many of them were appropriate for something like breakfast with Sorin’s family. Navidae hadn’t wanted him to wear anything like what he had worn the first time he came above; too revealing, he had said. He couldn’t stand the thought of people seeing him dressed like that.

  Which was all well and good, Khouri supposed, but it left him in a bind. Navidae insisted on approving anything clothing he wanted to pack this time around. And, knowing Navidae’s tastes… He rubbed the spidersilk shirt between his fingers, wondering if it would be better to sit at the table dressed like a princeling than to just wear the armor. Given how Sorin was watching him impatiently now, Khouri figured it didn’t matter so long as he made a choice sooner rather than later.

  Khouri stripped off the shirt he’d been given the night before and exchanged it with one that Navidae had approved. It was softer than Sorin’s but not as warm. It fell down his torso like water, smooth as the silk it was. Khouri tugged it down his hips and shivered as he reached for some leggings. They were woven thick to provide protection. Khouri appreciated the warmth, but they were just a bit too thick to be comfortable.

  “There’s a small town just across the forest,” Sorin said, breaking Khouri from his thoughts. He held out a hand and tugged Khouri off the bed. “I can see about getting you something better to wear while were here if you want.”

  A mind reader. Khouri sighed, shaking his head. He folded himself into Sorin’s arms for a moment, luxuriating in the man’s warmth. “It’s fine,” he mumbled. He peered through his fringe and gave Sorin a wry smile. “I could just wear your clothes if I really get bothered by it.”

  Sorin rolled his eyes and ruffled Khouri’s hair roughly, pulling away while Khouri yelped to open the bedroom door. “I’d love to see how Mastha would react to that,” he huffed, jerking his head towards the hall. “Come on; we’ve wasted enough time in here. Let’s go get you some food.”

  A bundle of nervous energy fluttered in the pit of Khouri’s stomach, the duskmoths alive and well despite the rumble of hunger that chose that moment to sound. Khouri’s cheeks heated a little. He followed Sorin out of the room and down the narrow hallway. Voices could be heard downstairs, filtering up the stairs easily. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, and the warmth of the day eased the last of Khouri’s shivers.

  He wasn’t cold anymore, but he was still nervous.

  The room was full of life when they walked in. Khouri instinctively hid behind Sorin for as long as he could. The air was filled with the scent of eggs and meat, his stomach rumbling loudly as it washed over him in a wave. There were three kids seated around the full table, Mastha in the middle of it all, a hand on the smallest who didn’t seem to want to stay in her chair. The other two kids, a boy and a girl, were bickering loudly about the size of the biscuits on their respective plates. Heddi and Jarrett, Khouri assumed. The girl turning her nose up at the eggs on hers was probably Yula.

  As far as human children went, they looked pretty normal.

  Khouri had only ever seen children in passing, sometimes while making his way through a town or in the backs of carriages along the road. They were always messy haired and wide eyed, cute in a strange, alien way. They usually looked like their parents, too.

  But these three… They didn’t really look like Mastha all that much. Where Mastha was fair-haired and light-eyed like Sorin, these three were dark. Heddi was a mess of dark brown ringlets, her face sharp and brown eyes even sharper. Jarrett, in contrast, had pure black hair, his skin a few shades darker than the others and his eyes almost as dark as Khouri’s. Yula was pink faced— though that might just be from the excitement—and her hair was a pale honey, her eyes a startling green. He felt like he was looking at an array of human children types, not one synonymous family.

  Khouri swallowed nervously. Despite the oddity of it, they were all so small. Thin and fragile. Had he looked that tiny as a child? It was a wonder he’d made it as long as he had.

  “It’s about time you came down here,” Mastha grumbled, glaring at Sorin over the tops of her children’s heads. Heddi and Jarrett stopped
fighting for a minute when they realized she wasn’t talking to them. “Pity. I was going to enjoy siccing them all on you.”

  Sorin rolled his eyes and smiled—only to immediately grimace as the kids turning bodily in their seats to face them, screeching, “Uncle Sorin!” at once.

  “When did you get here?” Heddi demanded.

  “Why didn’t you tell us he was here?” Jarrett shot at his mother.

  Yula shrugged off Mastha’s hands and climbed on top of her chair. “Who is that?” she shouted, somehow louder than her siblings despite her diminutive size. She pointed at Khouri with her finger, staring at her mother expectantly.

  “Sit your bottom back down, missy, or you’ll wash every dish on this table!” Mastha snapped, tugging her youngest back into her seat properly. Khouri blushed furiously when Sorin took him by the hip and pushed him towards an empty chair, sitting him down before he took a seat himself. “They got in late last night. And if you want to know who he is, ask, Yula.

  Don’t point. I taught you better than that.”

  Sorin let out a long suffering sigh as he put a plate in front of Khouri. “How you rugrats have this much energy, I’ll never know,” he muttered, piling some eggs onto both of their plates. “This is Khouri, a friend of mine. He’s a Drow. It’s like an Elf.”

  If they weren’t in front of children, Khouri might snort at that simplification. It was close enough though. Better than letting them guess. “Good morning,” Khouri said quietly, incredibly conscious of the fact that all the children were staring at him. “Um. You’re Heddi, Jarrett, and Yula, right? Sorin’s told me a bit about you.”

  Heddi gave him an assessing once over, and Jarrett stroked his chin as if he had an invisible beard. Sorin nudged Khouri beneath the table and nodded at his plate, and Khouri awkwardly picked up a fork and began to eat. The food tasted good, so that was nice. The staring… Well, he could do without that.

  “Where do Drow live?” Heddi asked her mother, running her fingers through her thick brown curls. “Why’s his skin that color?”

  “Yeah, and since when does Uncle Sorin have friends?” Jarrett wondered, crossing his arms as he looked at Sorin with disbelief.

  Khouri hid his bubble of laughter behind his hand, avoiding the glare Sorin shot at him. “They live in the Duskriven. It’s under the ground,” Sorin said, slowly turning back to address his niece and nephew. “I don’t know why his skin is that color. Why is our skin this color? It doesn’t matter. Now, why don’t you little brats tell me how have things been since I was last here instead of sassing me for once.”

  Heddi rolled her eyes as Jarrett made an annoyed sound, but they perked up at regardless, eager to catch him up. The atmosphere slowly warmed up, and Khouri found it easier to relax. He laughed along when Jarrett described an escapade he suffered while fishing, and Heddi was quick to take back Sorin’s attention when the topic of their studies came up.

  Apparently, she was quite adept at reading and arithmetic already. Impressive given Mastha home-schooled them all. She must be really smart too.

  One person wasn’t quite as easy to distract. Khouri tried to pay attention to Heddi’s story about some book she had found in town, but the intent stare of Yula kept dragging him away. The little girl was bouncing in her seat, eyes narrowed as she took in every inch of Khouri she could see. Khouri swallowed his mouthful of food and smiled at her, wondering what she thought of him. Her lips curled into a pensive frown, and his heart plummeted in his chest.

  Did she… Did she not like him?

  “Are your ears real?” Yula asked loudly, pointing with her spoon when there was a lull in the conversation. Khouri swallowed his bite of bacon messily, coughing a little in surprise.

  Mastha let out an embarrassed gasp and quickly covered her hand with her own. “What did I say about pointing? Don’t ask him something like that. It’s rude.” She shot Sorin and Khouri an apologetic look. “Sorry, we don’t get many Elves around here, let alone Drow.”

  Khouri had to smile. Something warm took root in his stomach. She didn’t hate him. She was just curious. “It’s alright,” he said, waving off her apology. He brought up a hand to tug at his ear for Yula. “See, they’re real. Just pointy... Do you… uh… Do you want to check?”

  Yula was out of her seat before Mastha could so much as blink. Khouri bit his lip hard to keep from laughing, and he lowered his head for the girl, letting her pinch at his ear with her small fingers. She ooh’d and ahh’d, tracing along the shape once she determined quite succinctly that it wouldn’t come off if pulled. “I want pointy ears,” she pouted once she had her fill of touching. She crossed her arms and looked to her mother expectantly. “Mama, when will my ears turn pointy?”

  “They only do that if you eat your vegetables,” Mastha said dryly without looking up from her breakfast. “They’ll stay round if you keep shoving your onions onto your brother’s plate.”

  The young girl let out a loud cry of “That’s not fair!” as she ran back to her seat. With her spoon in hand, she began to eat readily, even the onions. Khouri met Mastha’s eye and burst out laughing. It seemed that flawless deadpan sense of humor ran in the family.

  “Glad to see your parenting methods are still just as deceitful as ever,” Sorin observed, pulling a laugh from Mastha that made Khouri smile. “Mom would be proud.”

  Mastha rolled her eyes and settled her elbows on the table, gesturing with a piece of buttered toast. “Oh, you know her. She’s just dripping with pride in me,” she said breezily. “Are you going to go visit them while you’re in the area, or am I the only one graced with your presence this time?”

  Khouri ate a strip of tasty, crispy bacon and then snatched up another when he saw Jarrett eyeing the nearly empty platter between them. Sorin let out a sigh, settling his arm along the back of Khouri’s chair. It was warm. Khouri couldn’t help but lean into it. “I doubt it,” Sorin said, his fingers tracing hidden shapes against Khouri’s shoulder blade. “Trenton is a bit out of the way, and you know me. You definitely know how things usually go when I show up there, announced or otherwise.” “Yeah, I do.” Mastha swirled the milk in her cup, sipping it as she took in the emptying plates in front of her kids. Yula was splayed out in her chair, rubbing her belly as she groaned.

  Jarrett and Heddi were slowing down as well, sopping up the last of the syrup on their plates with stray pieces of bacon and toast. “You guys about done?”

  Yula groaned even louder. Heddi nodded, and Jarrett pushed his plate away as he downed the last dregs of his milk. With a gasp for breath, he nodded too, licking off his new milk mustache before Mastha had time to pick up the napkin next to his plate. Mastha rolled her eyes. She looked at Yula and ran her fingers through the girl’s hair.

  “Wash up if you need to and go out and play,” she said. “I’ll call you in for lunch, and then after that, it’s apple-picking for all of you.”

  “What about the dishes?” Yula mumbled. Mastha licked at the corner of the napkin and held the girl still as she wiped the crumbs and syrup from her cheeks. “Mama, stop!”

  “Maybe I’ll stop once you stop wearing your food, missy,” Mastha grumbled. “Don’t worry about the dishes. I’ll deal with them today, but don’t get used to it, okay?”

  The kids all shared a look, giving Khouri the impression that she rarely let them get away with playing before breakfast was cleaned up. At any rate, they didn’t wait long to take Mastha up on it. They jumped to their feet and pushed back their chairs, racing over to Mastha one by one to kiss her on the cheek before sprinting towards the door. Mastha let out a laugh and stood up too, catching the door before it could slam shut behind Yula trailing the rest.

  “Stay close, you hear?” Mastha called out after them. “And no playing in the mud this time! I mean it!” She shook her head and failed to hide her content smile. “Little brats,” she muttered under her breath.

  “Seems like you have your hands full here,” Sorin said, tearing Mastha away from her
musings. She turned around and let the door close, giving her brother a curious look. Khouri shifted in his seat and quietly finished the last of his breakfast, his stomach warm and full in a way that only home-cooked food could make it.

  She shrugged, giving them both a wry smile. “I keep myself busy, and I can’t say I hate the work. Which reminds me: I found something on the doorstep this morning when I went out to feed the chickens.” Mastha smoothed down the apron tied around her full waist. The front was stained with syrup and the old, faded hand prints of grabbing little toddlers from long ago. Her hand slipped into a pocket sewn into the side and came out with a familiar looking scroll of charcoal grey parchment. She held it out towards Khouri and wagged it in the air. “I’m gonna assume it’s for you since I can’t read a word of what’s written on it.”

  Sorin lifted his head, drawling out, “You go around reading other people’s mail randomly now, or is it a new hobby?” as Khouri reached for it eagerly.

  “Shut it, Sorrie. My doorstep, my rules.”

  “It’s fine,” Khouri assured her, unrolling the scroll with practiced care. “Like she said, she couldn’t read it anyway.” Not that Navidae was in the habit of sending him sensitive infor- mation anyway. He quickly scanned down the passage of familiar handwriting, tracing a few shapes with the tips of his fingers when he came to the section he’d grown used to seeing with each and every missive Navidae sent after him. The come home, blackbird part. The I miss you so much part.

  Sorin shifted closer to him, the warm line of his body pressing against Khouri’s shoulder. “Guess we didn’t do as good a job evading the messengers as we thought.” He scoffed a little to himself, clearly disappointed. They’d managed to avoid Navidae for up to two weeks at a time, usually when circumventing major cities or lurking for longer than anticipated in areas afflicted with poor weather. It really was a record though, Navidae finding them this fast. Maybe that meant something. Or maybe Navidae was just that tenacious. “Anything interesting this time?”