Froi of the Exiles

worth.’

‘I don’t care what any of you think,’ Froi muttered, preparing to crawl into the inner cave, ‘because the way I see it, when we get out of here, I’m taking her to the cloister of Lagrami in Sendecane. They’ll take care of her there for the rest of her life.’

Gargarin gripped Froi’s arm gently.

‘We thought it best if you sleep in a separate place until we work out her state of mind. Lirah says –’

‘Lirah?’ Froi said, bitterly. ‘Lirah would like me in a separate place? She weeps for her boy all her life, but the moment she’s faced with me as a son, it’s all too disappointing, isn’t it?’

Arjuro made a sound of annoyance.

‘That’s not what she said at all,’ Gargarin said. ‘Quintana is not of sound mind at the moment, Froi. Anyone can see that.’

Froi shoved him away and crawled into their cave.

Sitting up against the wall as she had since they arrived, Quintana stared up at him, her eyes swollen from the fatigue of keeping them open.

‘Tell her to sleep,’ he ordered Lirah.

Lirah stood and walked towards him.

‘She claims you will kill her and the child if she dares to sleep,’ Lirah said quietly. ‘It’s why she ran from you both times before.’

‘Her delusion about this child will get her killed, Lirah. Speak to her.’

Lirah shook her head. ‘I pledged to take her somewhere safe. When she came to me that day in the inn and told me you were in Charyn to assassinate her, she was inconsolable. Not just about the carnage in Tariq’s compound, but over fear of what you would do. ‘He’ll kill the little King,’ she cried, ‘and Charyn will be cursed for eternity.’

There was anguish in Lirah’s eyes. ‘I owe her this and regardless of whether I believe she is imagining this child, I need to be with her.’

‘Why is she so certain?’ Froi asked.

‘She claims the gods wrote it all over you. She is mad beyond reasoning and we did this to her. I did. The King. You. The whole of Charyn. We created that,’ she said, pointing to where Quintana stared from her corner.

Froi pushed past Lirah towards Quintana, but her savage hiss of fury and ragged breaths of fear filled the cave. Froi felt himself being dragged back by Arjuro and Gargarin while Lirah went to Quintana, murmuring words in the mad girl’s ears.

‘Tell her to sleep, Lirah,’ Froi begged, pulling away from the others.

But the sound of Froi’s voice was Quintana’s undoing and she cried out hoarsely, ‘Please, Lirah. Please, I’m begging you. Make him leave.’

Lirah turned and Froi saw it in her eyes. She wanted him gone, as well. Shaking free of Arjuro’s arms he walked away and crawled back into the outer cave.

He spent the week playing cat and mouse with Bestiano’s riders, watching them search the larger caves each morning. Some days, Froi made sure he left a false trail that had them whispering with feverish excitement. Most days he returned with food and placed it in the tunnel between the outer and inner cave for the others to eat.

They came to the outer cave often, except for Quintana, but Froi barely spoke.

‘We can’t stay here,’ Gargarin said, a week after Froi had been banished from Quintana’s presence.

Froi practised some weapon drills, ignoring him.

‘Either we find a way out past their camp or give her up to Bestiano’s men,’ Arjuro said.

Froi stumbled a moment, his short sword falling out of his hand.

‘If they believe she is with child, it buys her time,’ Arjuro said. ‘What did you say about buying time? Each moment provides … blah, blah, blah.’

If Froi chose to speak to them he’d say it was a bad idea. And what would Bestiano and the riders do after they discovered Quintana had been telling lies when her belly failed to swell. But he didn’t choose to speak and soon they left.

Later, Lirah came to visit.

‘Gargarin says you’re sulking,’ she said, coolly. ‘And Quintana’s still not sleeping, so perhaps you should return and sit in a corner away from her.’

‘I don’t sit in corners, Lirah.’

‘This is not helping anyone.’

‘Is there food in her belly?’ he snapped, pointing a finger to her face. ‘In all your bellies? If not, get out of my cave!’

With a hand she shoved him back. ‘You listen to me, you little Serker savage –’

‘Your Serker savage, Lirah,’ he mocked viciously, stepping closer. ‘His.’

She shoved him again and he felt fury in the push. ‘You were sent to assassinate her, Froi. What do you expect? Regardless of everything, everything,’ she spat, ‘Quintana was placed in my care, and for so long I was the only one she trusted when cowards tried to kill her time and time again. Do you want to know the first time it happened? Have you ever seen a four-year-old child retch over and over again, trying to purge herself of the poison they put in her food, begging me to stop the pain?’

He thought of all those times Quintana tried to eat from his plate and from the plates of those around her.

‘I would never have done it,’ he argued.

‘Why not? It’s part of that wretched bond of yours to those revenge-seeking Lumaterans. It’s the code you live by. Why would I think any different?’

Because you’re my mother, he wanted to shout.

‘I stay here,’ he said, turning his back to her. ‘Go back to your cave and don’t bother me again.’

Arjuro accompanied him outside one day, regardless of whether Froi wanted the company or not. The stream was the best source of food, but it was guarded day and night, all the way to the northern wall of the gravina. After a good bout of rain the day before, Froi watched one of the riders collect a bounty of fish and eel, placing them in a sack that writhed with life.

‘If you could get that stash it would last us days,’ Arjuro whispered from where they hid in a small ditch behind a cluster of reeds.

They waited for most of the morning and when the rider was satisfied with his catch, he picked up the sack and walked away, disappearing into the copse of poplar trees that led to the Charynites’ camp.

‘Stay here and whatever you do, don’t move until I return,’ Froi ordered.

He followed the rider, leaping across stepping stones to avoid using the dirt track that could easily alert the others to him. The Charynite stopped soon after and placed the sack on the ground, standing against a tree to relieve himself. Perri always said that there was an advantage in attacking a man with his pants down. Most men went to protect their private parts before anything else and if a pursuer was to give chase, it would also take a moment for the victim to pull up his trousers. So Froi came up from behind and knocked the man across the temple with the handle of his short sword before grabbing the sack of writhing fish and eels, and then he bolted.

‘He’s here!’ he heard the rider bellow. ‘This way.’

At the stream where Arjuro was hidden, Froi forced the sack into the Priestling’s hands.

‘Run!’ Froi hissed. ‘I’ll lead them away.’

Without waiting for Arjuro’s response, Froi raced back the way he had come and found himself face to face with the first of the riders. He leapt up and gripped the tree limb above, one boot each pounding in both men’s faces. Jumping back onto the ground he took the path that circled the riders’ camp, knowing it would draw them away from Arjuro and their cave.

He reached the wall of the gravina heading north and saw the tunnel through the thick stone that he had travelled through Zabat on their journey to meet Gargarin. It would take Froi to the road leading him to Alonso and then Lumatere. Home, he thought. Home. And the fury he had felt in the caves towards Quintana and Lirah and Gargarin and Arjuro, and the knowledge that they would be left with a small bounty of food, steered him to take the path home.