Finnikin of the Rock

skillet, she extended a hand.

'May I?' she asked, reaching over to take one of the small pieces of meat that sat on the skillet. Before the girl could respond, Evanjalin put the meat in her mouth as if it were the most natural thing, grunting with approval as she swallowed. The girl seemed to soften slightly.

'What is your name?' Evanjalin asked.

The girl looked past them to where her father stood, then looked down again. 'My name doesn't matter,' she said, speaking in broken Belegonian.

'Oh, but it does,' Evanjalin said quietly.

Finnikin saw the girl tremble. After a life of exile with these people, the hope shining from Evanjalin's eyes must have been mesmerizing.

'We're on our way home,' Finnikin said, looking around at the rest of the group. 'To Lumatere. Hoping that all our people will return with us.'

There was no response.

'All we suggest is that you travel with us to the Valley of Tranquillity. With the King's Guard. The captain. Our blessed Barakah. The king's First Man,' Finnikin continued.

'And what will you offer us if we return?' the man asked. 'A prison cell? A life of persecution?'

'There will be no arrests,' Trevanion called out. 'Have we not all suffered enough?'

'We offer what is owed to your children. Our kingdom,' Finnikin said.

'This is enough for them,' the man said bitterly.

'This is a stretch of muddy grass,' Finnikin snapped. 'That,' he said, pointing to one of the carts, 'was built to transport cattle and horses, not to shelter humans.'

'We will do what we always do,' the woman said. 'Send your Guard away, we beg of you.'

'They are your Guard,' Finnikin corrected. 'There to protect you and your children.'

'Our children are protected,' she said. 'We keep them fed.'

Finnikin saw the rage in the eyes of some of the younger men. Where would it all go? he wondered. The man took a threatening step toward him.

'Turn around and don't look back,' he said, his voice ugly. 'I suggest you take care of your own and leave us to take care of ours, or there will be a reckoning.'

'You have many suggestions, sir.' Evanjalin's voice rang out through the night air. 'Well, here are mine. I suggest you give your people words, not silence. I suggest you all turn to your wife, to your husband, to your children, and you speak of those days. Of the little you did when your neighbors were taken from their houses and slaughtered. Of the sorrow you have felt all these years. And I suggest you forgive yourself. But more than anything, I suggest you beg the one true goddess to forgive the legacy that you have passed on to your children. For they wear your coat of dissatisfaction and grief tightly over their bodies, and this bloodless patch of grass you have chosen to live on will be where they die with nothing but rage in their hearts. I suggest, sir, that you find no joy in being an exile. Do not make it a badge to wear with honor.'

She turned and walked toward the priest-king. 'You belong with us, blessed Barakah,' she said firmly. 'You must travel with us to your people. Now.'

The holy man began to shed tears. Finnikin could not help wondering what felt worse for him. Watching his people die, or feeling as if he had abandoned them? But when Evanjalin held out her hand, the priest-king did not hesitate to take it.

They walked away, and the tiny kingdom of three carts and nameless children was swallowed by the sounds of the night bazaar. Finnikin watched Evanjalin turn back once. Twice. Three times.

Later, as they traveled along the coastal road in the dead of night, the priest-king riding ahead with Trevanion, Finnikin thought he heard Evanjalin whisper the same words over and over again.

'Take me home, Finnikin. I beg of you, take me home.'

Chapter 18

'Can I trust you, Lord August?' Lord August of the Lumateran Flatlands woke to find a hand covering his mouth and a dagger to his throat. The face that appeared above him looked half-wild, with none of the softness that once gave Finnikin of the Rock a youthful innocence. With regret, he knew that if Trevanion's son dared lay a finger on his family, he would kill him in an instant. But then he realized he wasn't just at the mercy of Finnikin's dagger. In the pale moonlight that shone into the adjoining chamber, he could distinguish the outline of at least three more men. Beside him, his wife slept, unaware.

'Ah, Finnikin,' he muttered. 'What have you done?'

'Nothing yet. Answer my question.'

Lord August grabbed Finnikin by the knotted wildness of his hair, forcing him close. 'You bring these animals into my house,' he said through clenched teeth, 'and place a dagger at my throat as I lie beside my wife, while my beloved children sleep in the next room, and you ask me to trust you?'

'Can I take that as a yes?' Finnikin asked, shrugging free.

Lord August climbed out of bed, trying to keep an eye on the men in the adjoining chamber. 'I curse myself for failing your father and not taking you into my own home. If the captain were to see you now, it would be a blunt dagger carving him up.'

Lord August was a small man, but he did not let that get in his way. He would take these men down, any way he could. Images raced through his mind of what they would do to his family if he were to die first. He had always believed that if harm came to them, it would be from the Charynites or Belegonians. Not from a son of Lumatere.

'What have you done to Sir Topher?' he asked, seeing new scars and an older spirit in the boy's gray eyes.

'Aged him slightly,' Finnikin murmured, walking to the window and peering out into the night. 'We need a place to stay for a night or two. And food. That means you'll have to send your servants and people away. When we leave, we'll need more horses, and, if we could be so bold, a few silver coins would not go astray.'

'Anything else?' Lord August said, glancing again at the three men in the next chamber. 'My firstborn?'

There was a noise outside, and then a hand appeared over the rail of the balcony. Lord August watched as Finnikin stepped outside and came to the fourth man's assistance. As soon as he saw the man's face, Lord August relaxed.

'Good evening, Lord Augie,' Sir Topher wheezed, looking up for a moment before doubling over with pain. Finnikin kept a hand on the older man's shoulder until he recovered. 'Did you ask him about weapons?' Sir Topher managed between gasps.

'No. He offered me his firstborn and it distracted me slightly,' Finnikin said. 'Now that you have seen that Sir Topher is safe, can we trust you? We need to be sure. Be honest and send us away if you cannot help us.'

'Is my family's life in danger?' the duke asked, with another sideways glance at the giants in the next chamber.

Finnikin stepped in front of him, blocking his vision. Lord August saw a look of vague apology on the lad's face, as if he considered using his height a sign of disrespect.

'If they are, Finnikin, I will kill you.'

'Stop threatening my son, Augie,' he heard a voice behind Finnikin say, as one of the men stepped out from the shadows. 'Or I will have to kill you, and Lumatere cannot afford to have any more fatherless children.'

'Sweet Lagrami,' August swore under his breath. His eyes moved from Trevanion to Perri and Moss, who had also stepped forward, and back to Trevanion. Astounded, he burst into quiet laughter. He grabbed Trevanion in a bear hug, pounding his back and steering them all into the adjoining chamber. He pointed to Finnikin, grinning. 'I knew you would listen to reason last time we spoke.'

'Try not to take credit for it,' Finnikin replied.

'There will be hell to pay when it is discovered that a political prisoner of the land is missing.'

'Are we safe here, sir?' Finnikin asked.