He gently pushed past the women up the steps, and at each floor Froi glimpsed well-lit rooms and once- empty cells now decorated with a sense of home. He thought of these steps. Where he had first discovered that Gargarin was his father. The cells where he had found out for certain that Lirah was his mother. Each flight he climbed was a memory and the closer he got to the top, the more hurried his steps became. Because he had missed them all with an ache that had never gone away and he was desperate to see them. That was it, he convinced himself. Just one glance at them all. The higher he climbed, the less noise he heard, and by the time he reached the Hall of Illumination, the godshouse had returned to its quiet self.
Inside the room, he could see through the windows out onto the Citavita, and from the balconette out onto the palace.
Arjuro sat at a long bench, head bent over his books; plants and stems spread across the space before him. Froi caught his breath.
‘If you’re here about the Jidian invitation, tell them I’d rather swive a goat,’ Arjuro murmured, not looking up.
Froi stepped closer.
‘Must I, blessed Arjuro?’
Arjuro looked up in shock.
Froi grinned. ‘For those of us at the godshouse are well known for swiving goats and I’d prefer not to give them weapons of ridicule.’
Arjuro stood and grabbed Froi into an embrace, his arms trembling. Froi pushed him away, unable to get rid of the grin on his face.
‘Sentimental, Arjuro? You of all people.’
Arjuro studied his face. ‘Me of all people can be as sentimental as he pleases.’
And then he was taking Froi’s hand, leading him to the steps of the roof garden.
‘Lirah,’ Arjuro called out. ‘Come down and greet our guest.’
Froi caught his breath again.
‘If it’s about the Jidian invitation, I said no,’ she shouted back.
‘The Jidian Provincara’s in town, I’m supposing,’ Froi said quietly.
‘They’re all coming to town,’ Arjuro said with a grimace. ‘And everyone wants to visit the godshouse.’
Froi nodded, and suddenly he understood. It’s what Mort and Florik stopped the lad from saying outside the inn.
‘They’re here for her betrothment?’ Froi asked.
Arjuro nodded. ‘Five days from now, they decide who he is.’
‘Lirah!’ Arjuro bellowed again. He pointed up, rolling his eyes. ‘They say the Ambassador of Nebia’s wife has taken over Lirah’s roof garden in the palace.’
‘Lirah’s prison garden, you mean,’ Froi said.
‘Lirah says it’s her garden. She’s livid. So she’s determined to make our garden better.’
Our? Froi shook his head with disbelief. The idea of Arjuro and Lirah having something together was too strange.
‘Are you not going to come down for me, Lirah?’ Froi called out softly. ‘I’ve come a long way and I’d hate to return to the Lumaterans and tell them how inhospitable you are here in Charyn.’
There was no response but suddenly Lirah peered down the steps, the sun behind her illuminating her face. She had kept her hair short and without the grime of travel and with her sea-blue dress, she looked regal.
She descended the steps and Froi helped her down the last few and then she was there before him.
‘What’s this?’ she asked gruffly, touching the fluff of hair on his chin.
‘A pathetic attempt at a beard,’ he said. ‘It’s not working, is it? Which is so unfair when you think of the face of hair Arjuro had when I first met him.’
She smiled. ‘Regardless of their might as warriors, the Serkan lads could never grow one.’
Lirah reached out and touched Froi’s face as if she couldn’t believe he was standing before her.
‘Wait until you see him,’ she said, and there were tears in her eyes. ‘Wait until you see the wonder that’s our boy. Sometimes when they smuggle me into the palace we lie there, Gargarin and I, with this little bundle between us and we count all his fingers and toes. And in all the joy it’s only a reminder of how much we lost and there are some days that I don’t think he can bear the memory.’
Froi took her hand and pressed a kiss to it.
‘Gargarin thought he found a way,’ she said. ‘But now he believes it’s lost and he’s bitter, Froi. Why were your Lumaterans so cruel? If they loved you, they would not have been so cruel.’
‘Cruel?’ he asked. ‘Lirah, Gargarin left me behind without a thought. That’s cruel. The Lumaterans have proved themselves to me over and over again. What has he done?’
Arjuro joined them with a jug of brew and a bowl of broth.
‘Have you seen our guest?’ Lirah asked quietly, and Froi shook his head and followed her into a chamber. Its walls were adorned with rugs on one side, books stacked high on the other. A cot and fireplace occupied one corner. At first Froi thought there was a child lying on the bed, but then he realised the truth.
‘You can speak to him. He can hear you.’
Froi took a step closer, wincing at the skeletal figure that lay before him.
‘Hello, Rafuel. Do you remember me?’ Froi asked, his voice catching to see the man in such a state.
Lirah took Rafuel’s hand. ‘He’s to save his breath and get himself well,’ she said. ‘If anyone can get you back on your feet, it’s Arjuro, isn’t that so, Rafuel?’
There was no response. Just the stare. Rafuel was all eyes in a shrunken body. His left eye was half-closed and there was a scar across his lip.
‘Let’s get you seated upright,’ Arjuro said to Rafuel. Froi helped, suddenly overcome by emotion. He couldn’t recognise Rafuel as the same animated man who had shown him the way a Charynite danced, even though he had been in chains. Froi sat down beside Rafuel on the bed.
‘This one loves nothing better than when the little King visits,’ Arjuro said, placing a spoon to Rafuel’s mouth. ‘His eyes light up like a beacon.’
Froi looked away, unable to watch. He had never seen a man look so much like death. It almost seemed too cruel to keep him alive.
‘How did you come to be here, Rafuel?’ Froi asked, knowing that it would be one of the others who would answer. But he didn’t want to insult the man into believing he didn’t exist.
‘Gargarin demanded it the moment we found out he lived,’ Lirah said. ‘Rafuel belongs here with us. It all began with him, didn’t it, dear friend, with those silly cats? Where would we all be without Rafuel?’
‘I can take over here,’ Froi said, holding his hand out for the bowl. ‘I’ve got much to tell you, Rafuel. About the valley and the women who beg for news of you.’
He returned to where Lirah and Arjuro sat in the hall, his emotions ragged.
‘Will he get better?’
Arjuro shrugged. ‘We don’t know what’s broken inside of him up here,’ he said, pointing to his head. ‘We don’t know how much of it came from the beating he received upon his arrest or from being left for dead in that mine shaft.’
‘But when he first arrived, he could barely open his eyes,’ Lirah said. ‘Quintana visits with Tariq every day and it’s been a revelation to see how much he’s changed in the presence of the boy.’
Froi was suddenly envious of them all. Even Rafuel with his decrepit body. They had each other, despite the fact that they lived in separate places. Quintana and Tariq and Lirah and Arjuro and Gargarin and even Rafuel hadn’t needed Froi. They had begun to thrive without him.
‘Will she want to see me?’ he asked quietly.
Lirah didn’t respond.
‘Would that stop you?’ she asked.
‘That means she doesn’t want to.’
‘I didn’t say that at all.’ Lirah sighed. ‘I think … I think Quintana believes you’ve forsaken her.’
‘Me?’ he asked. ‘I’ve been waiting for Gargarin to do something. He promised to do something! I’ve been waiting.’
‘Gargarin said he wrote,’ Lirah said.
