Finnikin of the Rock

was long, his feet sandaled. A toe or two seemed to be missing, and the marks of age stained his hands. The only reminders of the man he used to be were the deep laugh lines around his eyes. The priest-king had always loved to laugh.

'You're still here,' the holy man muttered when he saw Evanjalin. 'I told you. This is no place for one so young and healthy.'

'This is no place for anyone,' she corrected softly. 'You are the priest-king. You need to lead these people home.'

The man shook his head. 'A title that means nothing outside the kingdom.'

'When we return to Lumatere—'

'If you want her to live, take her away,' the priest-king said. Finnikin knew they were being dismissed. He turned to Evanjalin. 'There will be no return,' he said quietly.

She glared at him. 'Look at them. Do you believe that a strip of land in someone else's kingdom will be any better than this?'

'How can you even ask that, Evanjalin?'

'What did they do to a newborn in your rock village, Finnikin?' she said, taking his hand and clenching it into a fist. 'Wrapped their little hands around stone from the village, binding it tightly for days. As they did with those from the Flatlands. Earth from the fields clenched in their fists. Silt from the river clenched in their fists. Grass from the mountains. Leaves from the forest. Joining them to the land.' She blinked back tears. 'We don't want a second Lumatere. We want to go home. Take us home, Finnikin.'

She turned to the priest-king. 'Blessed Barakah, if you return with us, people will follow. Those who are well. We will return to Lumatere where healers—'

'The healers are all dead, Evanjalin,' Finnikin said, his anger rising. 'The Forest Dwellers, the novices of Sagrami, any of them who had the skill and gift to heal are all dead. I was there. I heard their screams as they burnt at the stake. Even if we were able to get inside Lumatere, there is nothing to go back to. Can you not understand that? The only hope for our people is a second homeland in Belegonia.'

'Why do you fear returning, Finnikin? Were you not the one who swore an oath with Balthazar to save Lumatere?'

'Prince Balthazar?' the priest-king asked.

'No,' she said, shaking her head. 'For if he lives, he is now King Balthazar.'

'And does he live?'

'Evanjalin dreams he does,' Finnikin mocked. 'Do you have a plan, Evanjalin?' he demanded. 'Do you believe you will belong to him? A commoner to marry a king?'

Fury flashed in her eyes. 'Remember this,' she seethed. 'Our queen was a commoner. From the Mountains of Lumatere. Do not dare scorn such a match.'

'Quiet!' the priest-king said. He waited for their silence. 'So you dream of King Balthazar and believe that this is enough to convince me to follow you across this godsforsaken land in search of a country cursed?'

'No, blessed Barakah. I believe you've been told many times that Balthazar lives, and each time has proved to be false. But I can give you another name,' she said, staring at Finnikin.

'I have work to do,' the older man said, getting to his feet. 'Names mean nothing to me.'

'Not even Captain Trevanion?'

He stopped and turned, stunned. Then he looked at Finnikin as the truth dawned on him. 'Finnikin of the Rock? Son of Trevanion of the River?'

'The very same,' she said.

'I can answer for myself,' Finnikin snapped.

'He has escaped?' the priest-king asked.

Evanjalin nodded.

'Is he with his Guard?'

'No. With a whore,' she explained.

'Evanjalin!'

She looked at Finnikin with disbelief. 'Oh, so now we are bashful?' But then she turned her attention back to the priest-king. 'If we bring him here with the king's First Man, will you be willing to convince these people to go north, blessed Barakah?'

'Bring them to me and we will speak.'

Despite everything they had seen, Evanjalin looked pleased with herself as they set off back to town. Instead of taking the main road, she crossed into the woods. 'A much more pleasant track for walking,' she said. 'The river runs by here.'

Finnikin stopped suddenly. 'The horse? Where's the horse?'

She shrugged. 'I don't have my horse anymore.'

'Your horse? The horse was mine.'

'Don't be ridiculous.' Evanjalin continued walking up the track. 'You would never have stolen the horse in Sarnak if I didn't encourage you. So I consider it mine.'

'But I officially stole it,' he argued.

'Fine. But the horse you officially stole was actually re-stolen and we had to trade the thief from Sarnak for it, so really the horse could be considered his,' she said over her shoulder.

Finnikin tried to control his anger as he caught up to her. 'So why don't you have his horse anymore?'

'Well, a wonderful thing happened while you were off whoring. I discovered that the thief spoke the truth and had sold the ring to a peddler from Osteria who happened to be traveling in these parts.' Evanjalin dug into the pockets of her trousers and held out the the ruby ring. 'Isn't it beautiful?' she asked, a smile of pure delight on her face.

'Dazzling,' he muttered, bristling at the way she'd said 'whoring.'

'You'll like this route. The river will look lovely at this time of day,' she said.

But there was nothing lovely about the river as far as Finnikin could see. Just the ugliness of the slave traders of Sorel, their young prey, male and female, trapped in cages set upon barges. The females looked no more than children and made up most of the cargo.

There was little room along the bank, yet greedy buyers were pressed against one another, bidding for humans as if they were livestock. Sorel was the only kingdom with no laws against slavery, and Finnikin had heard rumors that children were branded like animals. As always, he willed the voice inside of him to take over. The one that told him he did not know these people and could easily forget them the moment they were out of his sight. And then he saw, between the shoulders of the two buyers in front of him, the thief from Sarnak. Tied to a timber horse post, naked and shivering.

Finnikin knew the thief had seen him. He saw surprise in the boy's face, then something else. A pleading. The boy began to mouth something, his lips moving desperately.

Finnikin pushed his way through the crowd of buyers. The thief kept his gaze on him, his mouth moving even as they untied him. When one of the traders noticed him speaking, the back of his fist caught the boy across the face and the thief staggered to his knees. But still he lifted his head and his mouth continued to move.

And then Finnikin realized with horror what the boy was saying.

'Kill me,' Evanjalin said beside him. 'That's what he's asking you to do.' Kill me. Kill me.

Finnikin found himself reaching for the dagger in the scabbard on his back. He dared not look at Evanjalin. 'We didn't take this route because it was a pleasant walk, did we?' he said angrily.

'I thought you loved the river,' she said.

'You meant for this to happen. You knew he was here, and you want to save him.'

'Don't be ridiculous, Finnikin,' she snapped. 'Why would I want to save a worthless thief who tried to rape me while I slept?'

When Finnikin didn't respond, she shrugged. 'But then I thought of your pledge. The one from the rock in Sorel where you said you'd search the land for the orphans of Lumatere and bring them back, and I believe you'll want to save him. If you get the boy now, you won't have to come back for him when you're nice and settled with some lord's sweet, fragile daughter.'