Medalon

gardens, she was still brooding about their visit. She was wrapped in a blanket against the cool autumn breeze, reading some forgettable text that Junee had left her, when Tarja finally paid her a visit.

He took the seat beside her, wearing his high-collared red jacket, his boots polished to a parade-ground gleam. She glared at him, angry that he had taken so long to visit her.

“Go on, tell me how terrible I look,” she snapped, before he could say a word.

“Actually, you look like hell, but it’s an improvement from the last time I saw you. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” she admitted. “Mother has already told me to get well or else, so I don’t really have a choice.”

“That sounds like Joyhinia,” Tarja agreed. “She’ll probably disown you, if you don’t.”

“Sometimes I wish she would,” R’shiel muttered, still smarting from Joyhinia’s unsympathetic reaction to her plight.

“It does have its advantages you know, being disowned,” he assured her.

R’shiel looked at him closely, but there was no bitterness in his tone. “Why does she hate you, Tarja?”

Tarja shrugged. “Who knows? For that matter, who cares?”

“I care.”

He took her hand in his. “I know you care, R’shiel. That’s because no matter how hard Joyhinia tries to mold you into another version of herself, there is a part of you she can’t seem to corrupt. I hope she never succeeds.”

Uncomfortable with Tarja’s scrutiny, R’shiel forced herself to scowl at him. “You’re not suggesting I won’t make a good Sister, are you, Captain?”

“From what I hear, you’ll be lucky to make the Blue at all, R’shiel.”

“That’s not my fault.”

“Isn’t it?” He looked at her skeptically.

“Well, maybe it is,” she conceded. “But I don’t ever recall being asked if I actually wanted to be a Sister. Joyhinia just assumed that I would.”

“And what would you do if you didn’t take the Blue?” he asked. “You’re singularly unsuited for anything else. Joyhinia has seen to that.”

She thought for a moment. What would I do, if I refused to follow the path Joyhinia has so clearly laid out for me? The fact that she could not come up with an answer was disturbing. Perhaps that was why she teetered on the brink of outright defiance, instead of taking that last, final step. There was nothing beyond.

“Tell me about the Arena, Tarja,” she said. Joyhinia was not a comfortable subject for either of them. Besides, he would know what had really happened in the aftermath of the brutal fight. “Is it true that Georj is dead? Kilene said he was dead before he left the Arena.”

Tarja nodded. “I’m sorry, R’shiel.”

For a moment, R’shiel saw her own grief reflected in his eyes, but he covered it easily. He had dealt with death too often and was hardened to it.

“What did Lord Jenga do to Loclon?” she asked.

“There’s nothing he can do, R’shiel. There is no rank in the Arena and no written rules. Georj went in knowing the risk he took.”

R’shiel was appalled. “But he was murdered! Loclon is a monster!”

“Well, Loclon didn’t win himself any friends, but that doesn’t make him a monster. Men have died in the Arena before,” he reminded her. “Loclon might have let his bloodlust get the better of him, but it was Georj who kept fighting.”

“I can’t believe you’re defending him, Tarja! Georj was your best friend!”

“I’m not defending him or what he did. But Georj was a fool for not realizing the sort of man Loclon was. Know your enemy, R’shiel. It’s the first rule of combat.”

“You should have killed Loclon when you had the chance.”

“To what purpose?”

“To rid the world of him!” she declared. “He is evil. If I believed in the heathen stories I’d say he was their demon child!”

Tarja looked at her curiously. “Evil? You haven’t been sneaking a peek at those pagan murals again, have you?” When she glared at him angrily, he shrugged. “If it’s any consolation, Jenga’s talking of transferring him to the Grimfield.”

R’shiel was only slightly mollified by the news. The Grimfield was Medalon’s prison town, and the Defenders who guarded it, like the prisoners who peopled it, were the dregs of Medalon. A posting to the Grimfield was the end of any promising career.

“That’s something, I suppose,” she grumbled. “Though it seems too lenient, to my mind.”

“I shall inform the Lord Defender of your displeasure,” Tarja told her solemnly.

“Don’t patronize me, Tarja! I’m not a child.”

“Then accept the reality, R’shiel. Georj took a risk and he paid the price. The simple solution would have been to refuse Loclon in the first place.”

“Like you did?”

“I’ve no need to prove myself against the Loclons of this world. I’ve met much more worthy opponents.”

R’shiel sighed. “I will never understand you.”

“Good. You’re not supposed to.”

“Where do you get all this big brother nonsense from?” she demanded. “Every time you want to weasel out of explaining yourself, I get the same excuse.”

He smiled but refused to answer. “You take care of yourself, young lady. Big brother will be checking on you when he gets back.”

She hurled a pillow at him, wishing it was something more substantial. “Where are you going?” she asked.

“Up north,” he said as he ducked. “Garet Warner wants me to check on something.”

R’shiel’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you working with him? You’re a cavalry officer, not intelligence.”

“You mean I’m all brawn and no brains?”

She frowned in annoyance. “You know what I mean. Garet Warner is always plotting and planning something. Mother hates him. She says he’s the most dangerous man in the Defenders. If she had her way, he’d be removed.”

“Then let’s hope she never gets her way,” Tarja said. “But you needn’t fear, R’shiel. All I’m doing is a survey of the northern border villages. There are no deep plots involved.”

“Well, be careful, anyway,” she ordered.

“As you command, my Lady,” he replied with a small bow.

R’shiel frowned, certain he was making fun of her, but she had nothing left to throw. “When will you be back?”

“With luck, by Founders’ Day. I shall make a point of being here, just to annoy Joyhinia, if for no other reason.”

“Since when have you cared about riding in the Founders’ Day Parade?”

Tarja looked entirely too smug. “Mahina is going to announce some changes. I want to be where I can see the look on our beloved mother’s face.” He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the forehead, something he had not done since she was a small child. “Take care, R’shiel.”

“You too,” she replied, but when she opened her eyes he was gone.

chapter 9

For three weeks Tarja and his small troop rode north toward the sparsely populated high plains on the border with Karien. As they neared the border the snowcapped Sanctuary Mountains in the distance loomed closer