the coarse seagrass flattened beneath them. Ash looked at Mistress Cheer as she settled a flask of rhulika in his hands.
He nodded a grateful thanks to her, taking a long drink to warm himself.
‘Easy. It’s the last of it.’
He returned the flask with a brief smile. ‘Thank you. It has been some time since I last had a proper drink.’
Behind them, the squeals and laughter of the women rang out from their small, firelit hollow in the dunes. A breeze played through the fringes of Mistress Cheer’s hair. She fixed her shawl tighter about her head.
‘Tell me again what it was your previous employer did?’
Ash tapped the flask in her hand with a fingernail.
‘Alcohol?’
‘He shipped a small fortune of it here. Would hardly let me touch the stuff, though.’
It was a poor lie, Ash thought. He couldn’t tell if she believed him. Cheer looked away, her eyes dancing with the lights of the campfires. Singing and laughter drifted with the breeze; people elsewhere in the dunes celebrating in high spirits.
Over it all they could hear the rhythmic wash of the sea.
‘We’re a long way from home,’ she said to him sombrely.
Ash gave a slow nod of his head.
She turned to look at him again. ‘Some more than others, I suppose. Do you ever miss it – Honshu, I mean?’
‘Yes. Sometimes.’
‘Of course you do,’ she said in what sounded like self-admonishment. ‘Of course you do.’
He saw that the cloud mass was nearing the moons now. It would be getting dark soon, dark enough to prowl.
‘You know, you have the saddest eyes I think I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen my fair share of them, in my time.’
Ash’s forehead wrinkled in a frown. He felt an urge to rise and walk away from the woman and her prying talk. But then she shifted over to press against his side for warmth. He found that he liked the feel of it enough to stay where he was.
She studied his expression, waiting for him to say something. He had no words for her, though.
‘Well, I feel my bed calling. Time the girls got some rest too.’ She rose and brushed the sand from her dress. ‘Aren’t you tired?’ she asked, and he heard the heat in her words, the unspoken offer.
His eyes lingered on the curves of her body beneath her dress. He wished very much that he could accept it.
‘I think I will stay up a while, and watch over the camp.’
She covered her disappointment by looking down at the sand.
‘It’s the scar, isn’t it?’
‘Not at all,’ he replied. ‘Really. I am just tired.’
She nodded, not believing him.
‘Goodnight, then,’ she said as she turned away, and trudged down the slope of the dune.
He waited a full hour to be certain the girls and Mistress Cheer were soundly asleep. Some fires continued to burn amongst the dunes, small groups of people talking as sparks rose upwards with the smoke. On the beach, the work parties laboured on through the night with the supplies still being brought to shore.
It was a risk, to leave the women without protection. But a risk he would have to take.
Removing his heavy cloak and picking up his sword, Ash stole out into the night.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Surrender and Be Free
‘I have to go,’ Bahn told his wife as he tied down the last of the equipment to his saddle.
Marlee nodded stiffly. Behind her, in the evening shadows, a man on crutches hobbled past in the otherwise empty street, a flap of skin hanging where his foot had once been. The man was in a hurry, as though pursued by the sounds of the tower horns that wailed across the city to announce the departure of the last of the troops.
‘Remember what I said, now. Get a message to Reese. Let her know she can come and stay here with you. Tell her I’m sorry I haven’t been to see her.’ Bahn suddenly ran his fingers through his hair. He recalled the last time he had seen his sister-in-law; her quiet voice explaining how her son had left the city. ‘Sweet Mercy, I haven’t even been to ask after Nico. How long has it been now?’
‘It’s all right,’ soothed his wife behind him. ‘I’ll tell Reese. She’ll understand.’
Her words failed to assuage him. Bahn had felt a certain responsibility towards Reese and her son ever since his brother Cole had deserted them.
He cinched the leather strap with a final sharp tug, putting his frustration into it. He inspected his work, then took a deep breath before turning to face his wife.
‘Time to go.’
Marlee nodded without expression. She was maintaining her composure for the sake of them both.
He’d felt awkward around his wife these recent weeks. He’d found that in her presence his guilty conscience would often make him think of the girl Curl, and it made him uneasy in his wife’s gaze, as though she might somehow see through him.
Now he stared hard into her eyes, unflinching. Marlee clasped her arms around his neck as he held her slim waist in his hands. Their noses touched.
‘I love you,’ he told her.
‘And I love you, my sweet man.’
Her eyes shone with the beginnings of tears.
He held her to him tightly, crushing her against his armour. He did not wish to let her go.
I don’t deserve this woman, he thought bitterly.
The children were already asleep inside. Bahn had kissed his sleeping infant daughter on the forehead, had shared a few words with his bleary-eyed son tucked up in bed.
He couldn’t shake what he’d seen in the streets on his hasty return home. People had been lining the thoroughfares as columns of soldiers and old Molari marched for the northern gates, cheering them on as they passed by, forcing good-luck charms and parcels of food and bottles of spirits into their hands. Some had cried at the sight of them, old men even, stirred by the determined expressions of the soldiers and the knowledge of what they all marched towards.
We can do this, Bahn had thought as his own emotions soared with the collective spirit of the crowds. If we stand together we can get through this.
But then, cutting through the backstreets to make better progress, he had passed countless people rushing with their belongings towards the harbours, hoping to find safe passage off the island, and he had watched them pass with something of envy in his heart.
On the walls, fresh graffiti was painted as though in blood. The flesh is strong. Surrender and be free. The work of Mannian agitators, resurfacing in the city now that it was truly vulnerable, and the majority of its forces were leaving.
Standing with Marlee in his arms, Bahn once more felt the urge to grab his wife and shake her and say, For pity’s sake, take the children and find a way out! But they were words for him alone, for he could never bring himself to say them. Not to Marlee, his pillar of strength, this woman whose father had fallen on the first day of the siege in defence of the city. She would say no, absolutely no, and then she would think less of him as a husband, as a man.
‘Look after them,’ was all he could say amidst the soft thickness of her hair.
‘Of course,’ she breathed. ‘And promise me you’ll be careful.’
‘I will.’
