Gargarin’s response was a slurp. He passed the brew to Lirah, who was staring at Froi.
‘I dreamt you died.’
‘I’m here, Lirah.’
‘Those at the lake of the half-dead will never let me be,’ she said.
Lirah would always be haunted by her attempt to end her life and Quintana’s, all those years ago.
‘They trapped me in my dreams and I saw you there.’
‘I’m here, Lirah,’ he repeated. ‘Being threatened by Arjuro, who obviously woke up in a bad mood.’
Arjuro scowled. Froi smiled. Perhaps he was just relieved to be back with them.
‘I wasn’t actually sacrificing myself,’ Froi explained. ‘I came up with a plan and the plan went accordingly. Why would I sacrifice myself for any of you?’
‘It wasn’t a plan, though,’ Gargarin said, suddenly angry at Froi. ‘You didn’t talk it over with us. You just said, “Give me your cloak and your staff,” and then you started walking away.’
‘You would have talked me out of it,’ Froi said.
‘How do you know that?’
‘I would have,’ Lirah said. ‘I would have said, “What a stupid idea. You’re sacrificing yourself for Arjuro.”’
She handed the brew back to Arjuro. ‘Despite the fact that he lost ten years of his life searching for you, trapped in that hell-hole Lumatere,’ she added.
Froi couldn’t help thinking how much smarter Lirah was than the rest of them. Everyone else would have danced around the truth for too long a time. Lirah was able to slap them in the face with it until it could be avoided no longer.
Arjuro was even more furious.
‘Who told you that?’ he demanded of Gargarin.
‘The Lumaterans.’
‘What?’
‘Yes, yes. You’ve missed out on some great excitement,’ Gargarin said, waving him off as if it was old news.
‘The ginger King tried to kill Froi,’ Lirah said.
Arjuro seemed to think they were playing with him and went to stalk away in disgust, but Gargarin gripped his robe and pulled Arjuro towards him.
‘We’re even, brother,’ Gargarin said, their faces so close and alike.
Arjuro grimaced with anguish.
‘We’ll never be even,’ Arjuro said. ‘You didn’t plan Lumatere’s curse, so my imprisonment was not your doing. But on the night of the Oracle’s death, I planned exactly what I’d do to you and it became your prison for all those years. So we will never be even.’
And Froi heard the self-hatred in Arjuro’s voice, but Gargarin didn’t let go. Instead he held a hand to Arjuro’s face.
‘I want my brother back. So I say we are even.’
Arjuro didn’t speak and it was too strange between them all.
‘Tell him about looking at the side of wonder,’ Froi said to Gargarin.
Gargarin seemed irritated. ‘Am I going to have to do that again and again?’
‘Already he’s sick of it,’ Lirah muttered.
Froi laughed. They were the maddest people he knew and he laughed until his side hurt.
‘What’s the side of wonder?’ Arjuro asked, confused. ‘Why is he laughing like a fool?’
‘Because there are two sides of a day according to Gargarin,’ Froi explained. ‘The side of despair and the side of wonder. On the side of despair, we’re freezing half to death. On the side of wonder, the four of us are together.’
The words lay unspoken between them. One was missing.
And all that time Perabo wordlessly watched them. Froi didn’t want to know what the keeper of the caves was thinking.
He slept and woke again, heard Gargarin and Arjuro’s murmuring beside him. They didn’t speak of their time in the dungeons of two rival palaces and they didn’t speak of love either, but it was all there in their voices. The brothers were talkers, after all. They were different to Trevanion and Perri in that way. In his time since Sarnak, Froi had come to learn as much about the power of silence as the power of words.
He slept on and off, but always woke to the sound of their voices.
‘… who knows, but there’s talk that the street lords are in the valley and they murdered those lads …’
‘… the Avanosh uncle? That idiot?’
‘… you shouldn’t have spoken to him that way. You know what De Lancey’s like …’
‘… it’s the star of the north and it’s only seen when the land is ready to thaw …’
‘… I’m telling you. They want me to set up a school in the godshouse and you have no idea how annoying those
‘Did you see his hideous self?’
Froi was wide awake. He knew they were speaking of their father, the man Froi resembled.
Gargarin was silent.
‘In his letter, De Lancey said you refused to speak to him,’ Arjuro said.
‘But I saw him,’ Gargarin said. ‘I saw that wretched piece of shit. And I wanted to step outside and look him in the eye and say, “You don’t scare us anymore. You can’t hurt us anymore. Because you don’t exist to us anymore.”’
Froi sat up and Gargarin’s eyes were on him.
‘I wanted to say, “Your face has been taken by another, so I’ve forgotten the malice in your eyes and the bitterness of your mouth.”’
‘Why can’t you just kill him?’ Lirah said, her voice hard. ‘It’s easy. You wouldn’t think twice about killing an enemy. He was your enemy.’
‘I’d do it for you,’ Froi said quietly. ‘I’d do a good job.’
If there was contemplation, it was only brief.
‘No,’ Arjuro said. ‘Let Quintana bring our little one into this world without his spirit being stained by blood on our hands.’
‘Anyway,’ Gargarin said, his voice ragged. ‘I’ve seen you kill, Froi. You’re too quick and clean, and I saw his hideous self close enough to know the truth. That he’s dying. Of the same disease that took the stonemason in Paladozza, Arjuro. Do you remember?’
‘Oh, yes. Slow and painful. Good. Good.’
And all the while, Perabo still watched them.
‘Who are you people?’ he finally asked. ‘You’re no stranger to them, Lumateran.’
Froi stayed silent.
‘If we tell you the truth, we’ll have to kill you, Perabo,’ Gargarin said, getting to his feet.
Sometimes … sometimes Froi wondered how far Gargarin would go to hide the truth. Was it jest in his voice, or a warning?
‘Then answer me this. Is Quintana of Charyn carrying Tariq’s child?’ Perabo demanded. ‘Or another’s?’ His eyes were fixed on Froi.
‘Does it matter?’ Gargarin asked.
‘It does to those of Lascow!’ Perabo said.
‘Then we give the people what they want to hear, Perabo,’ Gargarin said with a sigh. ‘And if the people want to hear that the child she’s carrying belongs to Tariq of Lascow, then we tell them that the babe belongs to Tariq.’
Gargarin stood before the man. ‘What did Tariq always say? Anything for Charyn. Anything for peace.’
Perabo was silent.
‘So it’s your choice. Take us to the Lasconian army or we continue this journey without you, as we have since he,’ Gargarin pointed down at Froi, ‘flew through the air and snatched the future mother of our king from death. No one else did that, Perabo. They planned it, they started it, but they did not see it through, and he did.’
