One winged angel
Deakon was smothering, the air in his lungs was hot and scratchy, and he couldn’t’ breathe enough. He wanted to scream but there was over his mouth. He started to struggle, to thrash, anything to get some more air into his chest. “Mama!” He woke up gasping.
“Shush,” the Cadacus said wrapping his arms about the boy, “just breathe, shush.” Deakon couldn’t get air into his lungs fast enough, panting and gasping. “It’s all right, I’m here.” Deakon dissolved into tears as the Cadacus rubbed his back and let him weep.
“Is he all right?” Miho asked opening the door to Deakon’s apartment a crack.
“Just a bad dream,” the Cadacus said, “go back to bed, Mi-chan.” She smiled for him then closed the door.
“The tea,” Deakon supposed, “the tea was supposed,” he sniffed back a sob, “to stop the dreams.”
“It does,” the Cadacus said softly, “but it doesn’t stop you remembering,” he laid a cold kiss on the top of Deakon’s head, “do you want to go back to sleep?” Deakon shook his head. “It’ll be dawn soon, shall we go downstairs and see if the kitchen’s set up for food.” Deakon paled again and shook his head. “How about I read to you for a little while?” Deakon smiled a little at that.
“Don’t you want me to tell you about it?” Deakon asked.
“No,” the Cadacus said, “you’ll tell me when you’re ready, and I get the impression that it might mean me leaving you with Tobin for a little while whilst I visit Shiro.”
“No!” Deakon protested, “don’t hurt her. She doesn’t know what she’s doing.”
The Cadacus blinked at that information but said nothing, just continued to rub Deakon’s back giving him comfort, but it made sense to him. “I won’t, Deakon, not if you don’t want me to.” He said eventually. “I am your servant.”
“Tell me about Minako,” Deakon said, “you never talk of her and all I know was that she had the death visions as hard as I do and that I saw her die.”
The Cadacus obeyed, though he didn’t want to, because he owned the Cadacus’ oath and he was beholden to obey He told him about Minako, first he started calling her Tennosha and recalling details of her power, but then he started to smile as he remembered things he had thought he had forgotten, or never noticed, and he called her Mina as he spoke of the fact her hair smelt of hyacinths, and that her earrings jingled when she walked causing people to look around for the ringing, and how beautiful she was when she laughed. She had been the Imperial ambassador to Dathyl and how she used to bully Dathyl’s secretary and how she would laugh when she had left him, and how sour her face got when she saw the Cadacus.
He recalled how awful it was to see her cry, how the death visions and the nightmares left her weak, seeking any comfort, even his, and how she had wept into his hair, her fingers flailing at the back of her neck. How deft her hands were as she built the flower arrangements that were the envy of Halcyon. The clean lines of her back as she stood against the window staring out over the sea. The tilt of her head as she brushed her hair. He had not realised just how much he remembered. The hitching gasp of her breath, the play of moonlight on the planes of her stomach, the clean lines of her thighs. He didn’t speak to tell Deakon, he spoke to remember. The tiny curls at the back of her neck, the clip clap of her slippers on the stone floor. The way she teased and played.
He remembered the look of determination on her face as she hurt him. The way her grey eyes tightened when she thought of words like weapons. When she faced him he had not noticed how stiff her demeanour became, how she could turn sack cloth into silk with the way she stood, every inch an empress, even of the dead.
He remembered how small and young she was when they first met, she was no older than Deakon that day, when she had been taken to Dramathen and married to him, with no idea what was happening to her. At how bereft she looked when she sent him to Dramathen, and how his heart shattered when he had heard that he had betrayed her, that she was dead.
He looked at Deakon, in his arms, the boy had fallen asleep again, he laid him back on the bed, “clever little demon,” he said sweeping back Deakon’s bangs from his face, “Tobin’s right to fear you.” He had loved her, he had always loved her, but she hated him, and he was too proud to back down. The Cadacus wished that he could still cry, that he could take the sword she had made for him and slit his own throat, but he couldn’t because only dust came when he did. He had betrayed her, and she was dead, and he could not die. He ran his fingers over Deakon’s hair again, then stood up and left the room.
He went down the stairs and out to the horse trough where Josian perched, watching the stars over the river to the north. “Selestin,” he acknowledged sitting next to him.
“Mamoru,” Josian replied. They didn’t say anything else; they just sat there and stared at the stars, remembering.
When Deakon awoke it was just before dawn and the room was empty. He rolled his shoulders trying to ignore the wave of panic that crashed over him, and then dressed quickly, pulling his black cloak about him he was about to leave when Tobin popped his head around the door, obviously with the intent to wake him. “Morning, sleepy head,” he said brightly. “The Cadacus has got you some breakfast, are you coming down?” Deakon nodded, and allowed himself to be led into the common room. The breakfast he was served turned out to be a cup of warmed honey milk sprinkled with vanilla and cinnamon. The Cadacus had remembered that he would be nauseous. He sat down at the table, between Miho and Josian and sipped at the warm milk, hoping that he could keep it down.
“You feeling all right?” Miho asked looking at Deakon, but Deakon only had eyes for the Cadacus. He looked old that morning, he had been in his thirties when he died, and his hair was yet to grey but he looked old, as if he hadn’t had nearly enough sleep. His dark hair was in his face, and his eyes were tight, and although his common expression was a frown he seemed to be scowling more than usual. Josian was equally quiet, but Tobin was almost hyper leaning across the table for things he wanted, trying his best to engage absolutely everyone in a different conversation.
“I’m fine, Mi-chan,” Deakon said, emptying the cup and putting it down, “what time does the ferry leave?”
“Noon,” the Cadacus answered briskly. “The Lady Emithi arranged for it to leave to suit her, so the morning is yours.”
“Are you going to spar the boy?” Deakon asked, “If so I’d like to watch. I’ve only ever seen you spar with Tobin or Kyo and I’d like to see you with a stranger.” He caught what could have been a blush coming to his cheeks, “Tobin!” he protested, “this is all your fault.”
Tobin turned around at the mention of his name, “what?” he asked wide eyed with no idea of what had happened only that he had been blamed for it. “I didn’t do it, I wasn’t there, and you can’t prove anything.” Deakon looked at Tobin for a whole second before he burst out laughing. Tobin’s eyes narrowed as he tried to work out what it was that he was being accused of. He also noticed t hat everyone was looking at him. “Look, I’m innocent,” he protested, “this time.” He added under his breath.
“So its not you filling the boy’s head with your ecchi tales?” Miho asked sipping at a cup of honeyed kir that stained her lips.
“No,” Tobin protested, “He’s twelve.” Then worried that Deakon might not like being reminded that he was only a baby in their opinion, he added, “I don’t think he’d understand most of them.”
Miho nodded sagely, “I think you may have a point there.”
“I’m sat here.” Deakon protested.
“And they’re being far to licentious for the breakfast table.” The Cadacus growled, “I will see if the boy is awake, and then I will attend to him, Deakon, you of course are welcome to watch.”
“Isn’t he a little young for that?” Tobin said, his face was the epitome of innocence.
“Yesterday you accused him of having a filthy mind, perhaps it was only your reflection that you recognised.” The Cadacus’ tone was brisk and it silenced Tobin. “In your own words, Tobin, he is only twelve.”
“I’ll be thirteen in two months.” Deakon said brightly, his stomach was roiling in him and he thought he might throw up but it seemed infinitely more important to impress on them that he was not a baby.
A new voice spoke up, “that’s old enough for some things.” Devlin D’Aino was looking clear at Deakon when he said that. His eyes were exactly the same as his mother’s, in his hand he was holding a Darin broadsword, and he was dressed for sparring. “I trust that he has received some instruction from yourself, Takehito-san.”
“And you say I have a knack for innuendo.” Tobin muttered under his breath.
“Cadacus,” the Cadacus corrected, “call me Cadacus.”
“As you wish.” Devlin said, but he didn’t take his eyes of Deakon, but noticing the calibre of Devlin’s gaze both Miho and Tobin closed in on the boy. Flanking him closely as Kyo worked on the death glare he was giving Devlin. His gaze was fiery but they weren’t backing down. Devlin was a lord, and it showed in his stance, he held his head up high and was barely noticing Kyo at all. He was a handsome young man, and he knew it, and carried it well. He had the poise of a swordsman, something they couldn’t have noticed the previous night when he had been playing capture with his brother in the window of the upstairs room. Devlin D’Aino was tall and handsome, heir to one of the largest demesnes in Aatoria, he got what he wanted, he had that air, but Deakon didn’t know what he wanted. His black eyes were numb though.
The Cadacus stood up, straightening out the lines of his jacket before he lifted his Katana, Ran, and followed Devlin into the sunlight. “Are we honestly going to miss this?” Kyo asked watching them go.
“The Cadacus is in a foul mood.” Tobin mused, “he might kill the boy, and then we’d be witnesses and Emithi would be honour bound to kill us, and…”
“Maybe the boy is good,” Kyo said, “and we’ll get to see the Cadacus take in more exercise than one of us getting beaten,” he looked at Deakon “or you letting him win.”
“No letting in that.” Tobin said, “I’ve never beaten him. I doubt I ever will. He was a master before I was born but it has been a while since he had a challenge. He trained me so I will never beat him, but I trained Devlin.” He thought about it, “and then Sir Bedivere took over the boy’s education.” He smirked. “All right, we’ll watch.”
The sunlight was thin, filtered through by dawn clouds. In the half-light the Cadacus looked grey and shining, like he was made of stone, he wore an ash grey colour similar to the colour of morning and his dark hair was shining. In comparison Devlin looked small and thin, he struck Deakon as looking like the Cadacus must have at that age, before the years had made him broad and hard. They stood in similar poses, but where the Cadacus carried his sword pointed to the left, Devlin’s was pointed to the right and they were circling, watching, learning the other’s pacing. Tobin put his arms around Deakon’s shoulders as he watched; this would not be a quick spar like and the Cadacus shared, nor the simple rout that both Deakon and Kyo had known. This would be a match, not of equals, but easily of masters.
“How old is the boy?” Kyo asked.
“Twenty one.” Tobin answered, “and I remember when he was a baby.” Deakon pushed his elbow into Tobin’s ribs hard with a murmur to be quiet.
The Cadacus had seen an opening, and took it; rather than bring his sword up in the arc he had taught Kyo and Deakon as their opening move, and he brought the hilt of the sword up in a disembowelling move than Devlin blocked easily. Their eyes were on each other and not the swords. In the distance there was a rumble of thunder and a few heavy splats of rain began to fall on the inn’s paved courtyard. As Devlin blocked the sword strike he stepped back out of the range of the Cadacus’ feet and in a move that caused Tobin to whisper Seraphim he slammed his forearm into the Cadacus’ sword hand, the Cadacus took that as an opportunity to bring his blade up to Devlin’s throat, where it was blocked by his own sword. The Cadacus widened his eyes slightly as the rain began to pelt down on the pair, slicking their clothes to their skin. The boy might not have been an equal match to the Cadacus, but he was talented. He was the kind of boy that would shine under his tuition, but there was no need for this boy to learn, he would be bishop after his mother, this was just play, and that was why he would lose, no matter how talented.
The Cadacus made his mind up and stopped holding back, Tobin hissed through his teeth seeing the slight change in posture, so far Devlin had matched him, or he had matched Devlin, now it seemed the boy would end up on his back in the dirt the way that the rest of them did. The Cadacus moved like lightning, flashing back and forth in the rain and suddenly rather than predicting and acting against the Cadacus’ movements Devlin was forced to react. He was still coping though, much longer than anyone else had when they fought the Cadacus. The boy had obviously never fought anyone like this before, and it must have lasted ten minutes before the Cadacus held the sword point to Devlin’s throat, Devlin’s sword in the fabric at the Cadacus’ waist. “Concede.”
“I concede.” Devlin said lowering his sword at last, the Cadacus sheathed Ran in a single gesture and then bowed. “You are amazing.” He said with a trace of awe in his voice.
“Thank you,” the Cadacus sounded cold at that, “I must commend your tutor, and the only reason that I beat you was because I wanted it more, you have spent time learning with the Seraphim, but practise will rid you of their angry motions. The less you feel the less room there is for error; towards the end you were angry. Suppress it and you will be the warrior of your generation.”
“Where will you stand when war breaks out?” Devlin’s question caught them all off guard.
“War?” The Cadacus asked. “Either side means little to me, I serve Taira Deakon.”
“There will be war,” Devlin said, “no king should love his second son more then the first, nor ally one with the Seraphim and the other with the Garvem, there will be war. I would like to be on the same side as you, I would hate to face you on the field.” He sheathed his sword in a plain black saya
.
“It was nice of you to volunteer that information, Devlin.” The Cadacus said. He knew he should call him his lordship or something, but the Cadacus didn’t do honorifics unless they were Deakon’s or he was scared of the person they belonged to, like Devlin’s mother. “I appreciate that you took time from your schedule that we could spar.”
“The pleasure in this is mine,” Devlin said with a formal bow, the man was almost as cold emotionally as the Cadacus, “I have heard legends of your prowess, from Tobin who trained me, and others since, I wanted to believe them but feared they were exaggerations. Now I know that if I ever hope to beat you I will have to train harder.”
“You are to be Bishop of Amitre.” The Cadacus said, “you have no need to be a sword when others will die in your stead.”
“There will be war,” Devlin said, “the crown belongs to Prince Jored but the king favours the suit of his bastard Caspian. Caspian entered the academy this year and Jored is in Halcyon with the Garvem. I do not want to die simply because I was without guards, not many know I can handle myself with a sword. I do not wish to make the mistake many have made before.”
“If things were different I would be honoured to train you.” The Cadacus said and truly meant it.
“Come to Amitre then,” Devlin’s tone was mocking, “my door will be open to you, and the boy.” His gaze when he looked at Deakon was cold, calculating, he was working things out, thinking, plotting and scheming, he was his mother’s son. “For other reasons besides your distinct prowess.” His gaze at the Cadacus was amorous, but still cold. Deakon looked at Tobin who obviously had realised something about Devlin he hadn’t known, and although Deakon got the impression he was involved in the thought he felt relieved.
“You are referring to Deakon’s mother, perchance?” the Cadacus asked, ignoring the lust in Devlin’s eyes.
“Among other things. Now please excuse me, Takehito-san, I would wish to bathe before the ferry departs for Sidi.” He turned on his heel in a single clipped swordsman’s gesture and walked away. There was no softness in his carriage; he walked as stiffly and as formally as the Cadacus did, Deakon wondered if it was something to do with the sword training they had received.
“Bloody D’Aino.” The Cadacus said under his breath, but Deakon still heard him, “they never will be anything but trouble.”
The Danekawa ferry was a large boat with a figurehead of a woman with dark blonde hair and a red dress that looked imposing. When Tobin saw it he crooked up the corner of his mouth in distaste before carrying Deakon on board, not trusting him to walk the gangplank by himself. The captain looked like something out of a children’s story with long black curls, one hand and a heavy red velvet coat decorated liberally with gold braid. He went straight to the Cadacus, assuming he was in charge of the party, and introduced himself as captain Hooper, but Deakon immediately renamed him in his head. Tobin put him down, and when the captain saw the pair of them he enthused, “and are these your sons, such handsome boys, you must be proud.” The Cadacus shook his head and asked the way to the cabins with all the disdain he could managed, and was at that point rescued by the arrival of the Bishop and her party. Emithi was hooded in a dark red and wore a long mustard coloured dress that brought out the colour of her hair. She looked vexed at something. Tobin had sat down beside Deakon on a coil of rope as Kyo and Josian carried their small luggage bags onto the ship. Miho appeared to have joined Emithi’s train because she stood chatting with one of the Bishop’s ladies in waiting.
“A penny for your sighs, chibi?” Tobin said looking at Deakon.
“Lord Devlin said there would be war.” Deakon said. He couldn’t get past the image.
“There’s always some war or another,” Tobin said, “there was one just before you were born, a very bad one, the Garvem and the Seraphim are just looking for an excuse to hate each other properly. That’s all.” He leant forward and ruffled Deakon’s hair. “How about you go and see Cadacus, and then see if he has a history book for us to work on your reading with, and if not, then I’ll tell you about the last Senshi war, all right.”
Deakon nodded and went down the steps into the bowels of the ferry where he knew the Cadacus would be. Inside the boat it was dark, and Deakon put his hand on the wall to find his way to the last cabin, the one that the Cadacus had said was theirs. The Cadacus stood at the small porthole looking impossibly sad. He was obviously remembering her. Deakon went to him and put his arms about the Cadacus’ hips and laying his head against his strong back to give him some comfort. “I’m sorry I made you sad.” He murmured.
“So this is why…” Emithi of Amitre said clearly from the doorway.
Deakon raised a single red eyebrow at the Bishop in the doorway to her cabin. “You know nothing.” He said and then brushed past her. “He couldn’t even if he wanted to.” He said as he pushed her aside. Her hair swept around her head and unleashed itself to fall down her back in ashen blonde strands as shadow nestled against her bosom, stroking her throat and forcing her head back.
“What are you?” Emithi asked, whirling to look at Deakon.
“The Lord of Meirin.” Deakon said, his eyes were metallic and cold, “and he is my Senshisha, it would do you well to remember what you ask of me, and what belongs to me.”
“Deakon,” the Cadacus said, his voice was firm and crisp as he said the name. This was an order.
“By your leave, Cadacus, I should have left you to your grief.” He bowed his head in a gesture of respect and went to leave.
“This isn’t like you, Deakon, is she here?” Deakon’s smile was faintly smug.
“Shouldn’t the question be, is Deakon here?” he answered and then left, climbing up the stairs to the deck where Tobin and the others milled about back and forth, waiting for some signal to leave.
“Deakon,” the Cadacus called, Deakon ignored him. “Maerian.” He called the name out, Deakon turned, his head tilted to the side. “Let him go.”
“But its so sweet in here,” Maerian said with Deakon’s voice, this was the first time anyone other than Deakon had seen her demonstrate her power, at some point she had slipped inside him and had no obvious intention of letting him go. “All these,” she rolled Deakon’s golden eyes, “emotions, all this,” she spread his hands and licked his lips “power.” She looked at the sky, “how do you not go mad, Cadacus, with all this stimuli, with the light being so beautiful and the smells? He doesn’t even notice them.”
She was excited, in love with life, even if it was Deakon’s life and not her own. “Deakon was born with all his senses.” The Cadacus said softly, trying to discourage this possession, she had never done this before, and it was unlikely she would do it again; she was trying so hard to drink everything in. He had been the same once, the first time he went to Meirin; he had been drunk on the tower’s beauty, and the smell of Minako’s hair. “He takes them for granted the way all living things do. I know what it is to know the world but not to taste it, you and I are a lot alike, Maerian.”
“You mean that we’re both dead?” She leant back crossing her arms under breasts Deakon didn’t have and stretched out her limbs, making him acutely aware of the fact that Maerian was female and Deakon was not. “That the object of our affections never deigned to notice us?”
That stung, but more that it came from Deakon’s voice and not Maerian, Deakon would never say things like that. “You terrify him,” the Cadacus said, “you only appear when he uses his power and that scares him, if you take time and are patient he may come around.”
“And if I don’t want to.” She snarled, she was angry, all the joy and wonder of the world gone. “He is my Aniki and he will know it, if I must kill him and share his grave.”
“I won’t let you do that.” The Cadacus said, “and if you truly loved him the way you argue now that you do then you would take the scorn and treasure it because it came from him. I will speak with Deakon, but you must release him, there is nothing to be gained from this.”
Maerian flicked Deakon’s eyes to Devlin, he was standing at the prow leaning over the edge of the boat in profile, his form long and lean, his expression thoughtful, “not yet,” she purred, “but remember this, Mamoru,” she used the Cadacus’ name deliberately, enunciating each syllable carefully, “you must still explain to the Bishop of Amitre what it was that she saw in such a way that her seraphim son,” her eyes looked at Joshoa who was sat near Tobin on a coil of rope, “doesn’t cut out his heart.” Her smile was wicked and looked out of place on Tobin. “He fears them as much as he fears me, but you,” she touched the Cadacus’ face, “you he loves.” Then Deakon wilted; like a string around his middle pulled him down he collapsed. Devlin turned to see Deakon faint and jumped forward to catch him, he was quick with a swordsman’s reflexes just beating the Cadacus to it.
“It’s just the sun,” the Cadacus said, “he’s not used to it, it’s a little sunstroke.” He stroked Deakon’s hair gently as Devlin shifted him in his arms. “He’s still so young and the heat is not as harsh in the north.”
“How old?” Devlin pressed, the Cadacus couldn’t help but notice the way Devlin’s dark eyes lingered on the curve of Deakon’s lips, not hungrily, but watching to see him breathe.
“Twelve.” The Cadacus said firmly.
“I thought him as old as fifteen.” Devlin said, “I thought him older.” It sounded almost like Devlin was reassuring himself when he said that.
“No,” the Cadacus said, “He is twelve.” He repeated the age. “I will take him and lay him to sleep.” Devlin nodded and handed the boy over, the Cadacus, Devlin noticed, was cold to the touch,
“Cadacus,” Devlin called out as he turned to go back down the stairs. “Take care of him.” For a second the Cadacus looked puzzled, then he nodded, not because it was his duty to take care of Deakon, not because of some oath, or even because Deakon was so young, though those were all good reasons but because Devlin asked him to though he couldn’t have said why. He had his suspicions but it was too early to tell.
He carried Deakon down into the bowels of the ship; it was rocking soothingly back and forth on the river tide. Emithi, the Bishop of Amitre, was waiting for them in the cabin that Deakon shared with the Cadacus. She sat on the narrow pallet that jutted from the wall. The cabin couldn’t have been more than six foot across and eight foot wide, from either wall was a small bunk with a straw mattress. She sat on one of the bunks, her skirts spread out in front of her and the jewel embedded in her forehead reflecting the light from the porthole. Her long hair was loose around her shoulders and she looked dishevelled and debauched, with the rising blush on her bosom. The Cadacus laid Deakon down on the empty bunk, and arranged the blanket about him so that he would sleep.
“You were wrong,” the Cadacus told Emithi coldly, there was no emotion in him when he faced her, “what you saw, it was nothing, he was giving me comfort. He asked something of me I wasn’t ready to give, he wanted to know about my wife.”
“I asked Devlin,” Emithi said, “he said that Minako Tennosha died over six centuries ago, that she was the last lady of Meirin.”
The Cadacus remained impassive. “She was, and she did, and I died three months later.” He said quietly, he took a knife from his belt and took her hand, she must have been in shock, he thought, because she didn’t struggle, and pressed the knife against the pad of his finger to show her what happened. A line of dust fell unto the Bishop’s hand instead of blood. “I betrayed my Tennosha,” he said firmly, “I let her die knowing she was going to her death, so I took the sword she had made for me,” he undid the points of his trousers, “and I eviscerated myself,” he showed her the terrible gaping wound in his stomach, “but my oath did not release me,” he took her hand and pushed it to the cold damp mess of his intestines. “I am dead, my lady, as Deakon said, even if I wanted to, I couldn’t.”
“You are blasphemy,” she whispered.
“Perhaps,” he said and then let her hand go, it didn’t move. “If Joshoa arms his greave to cut out Deakon’s heart I will kill him, I will cut out his heart and cut off his head and I will lay them on your bed to remind you that you were warned. Deakon is the last of his line and a precious child.”
“Is his mother who he said it was?” the Cadacus nodded. “Then his father was,” she left it open but the Cadacus nodded. “This changes things,” she said, “he,” the Cadacus nodded again, not letting her finish. “He doesn’t know, does he?”
“No,” the Cadacus said, “He thinks his father is Taira Hatsuhara, his mother,” the Cadacus lowered his eyes, “he has nightmares of her, of the things she did. She kept him always beside her, locked the two of them in her chambers, more than once she tried to kill him.” He turned to look at Deakon, peacefully dead to the world, his face even looked boyish. “He is second in line to the Throne of Aatoria.” The Cadacus said, “but he doesn’t even know that, he outranks the bastard prince and there are many that would use that against him, but his father,” the Cadacus lowered his eyes again, he could not meet Emithi’s gaze although there was no strength left in her. “He is all I have.”
“I have two sons and a daughter, and they are my life,” she said quietly, “I will not tell Joshoa because I know you will kill him, Devlin will inherit Amitre when I am dead, but when Caspian makes his move against his brother it will be with the full backing of the seraphim, Devlin is loyal to the throne so when the war comes it will set my sons against each other.” She looked remorseful; “My only wish is that I am dead when it happens. I will not tell Joshoa and you will make no move against him, that is my offer, take it or leave it.”
“I will take it, but this is my condition, as long as he makes no move against Deakon, I can defend myself, but he is a child, he is twelve years old and has no idea what he is.” His gaze was fierce, “no older than your daughter and raised by a mad woman in a place most people have never heard of. Haunted by the dead and the living, he is just a child, if either of your sons make a move to harm a single hair on his head, Tobin, Josian, Kyo and I will be forced to take action, but we will initiate nothing, on my word as a Senshi.” She outstretched her and shook his.
“On my word as Bishop of Amitre it will be so.” She stood up and smoothed down the skirts of her gown in a nervous gesture. “She was lucky,” she said under her breath.
“Who was?” the Cadacus asked.
“The woman you killed yourself for, the woman who holds your oath.” She looked sad, envious almost.
“She hated me,” he said, “we were married for twenty years and she hated me more every day, you say that she was lucky, she would have told you she was beholden to her title.” He swept black hair away from his face in a natural gesture, one that showed he was uncomfortable with the topic. “And then I betrayed her. So she wasn’t lucky.”
She had no answer for that and left the cabin as the boat began to wend its lazy way down the river, away from Danekawa Ford to Sidi.
Deakon awoke with a start and a stifled scream, lurching to his feet and running down the corridor of the boat before he hit the night air and the ship’s railing, before he vomited noisily over the side. Suddenly there were cool hands holding him up, holding back his hair, and a calm voice telling him to let it go, to just let it go. He fell back sobbing into arms he was sure were Tobin’s and was startled to discover that the comfort was not Tobin’s but the boy Devlin’s. He made an attempt to get up but he was too weak and nauseous to do anything. “First time on a boat?” Devlin asked with a ghost of a smile.
Deakon nodded, wiping his mouth, he could feel Devlin’s heart beat against his cheek where he held him, so sure that it was Tobin he had thrown his arms around him to start the sobbing, and now he was holding some stranger. “It will settle,” he pushed back Deakon’s hair, “come it is less on the fo’c’sle.” He took Deakon’s hand, “and it is a beautiful night, I will sit with you.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Deakon said sniffing, whenever he vomited it made his eyes water and his nose run.
“I was already sleepless,” Devlin said and reached inside his jacket for a kerchief that he handed to Deakon, “it is no issue for me to spend this night with you rather than on my own, in fact,” Devlin’s gaze was contemplative for a moment, “I would prefer it.”
The wood of the fo’c’sle was bleached by salt and scrubbing and was hard under Deakon’s feet, like granite. A sailor was stood there and he bowed when he saw Deakon and Devlin and left, scrambling up the rigging to get a better view of the river and the Termigent Forest by night and less of a view of the two of them. Devlin sat Deakon down by the railing, so he could lean against it and then sat beside him. Like Tobin Devlin was much taller than Deakon and his long legs stretched out impossibly in front of him, “Your kindness is appreciated, my lord.” Deakon said as he wiped at his runny nose with the piece of cloth Devlin had given him.
“Call me Devlin,” he said with a charming smile, Devlin was handsome with long fine bones and black eyes slightly taut at the corners, his hair was Jiono black and there was something exotic about him. “I never think to answer to my lord, my lord was my father, not me.” His smile was intoxicating, and Deakon couldn’t help but smile back. “And besides, through your mother we are cousins.”
“Really?” Deakon asked, he had no family; he had only ever had his mother.
“Yes,” Devlin said, “distant cousins, separated by many generations, but cousins.” It was a joke and Deakon found himself laughing and Devlin laughed with him. “Of course you have your real cousins, Jored and Caspian.”
“Who are they?” Deakon asked, “I didn’t know I had real cousins.”
“Oh,” Devlin said suspecting he had said too much. “Your cousins are the princes of Aatoria, your uncle is king, and I thought that you knew.”
“My mother was exiled,” Deakon said, thinking carefully of what he told this handsome man, “I know nothing of her family, and my father’s kin were dead.”
“After the war things were complicated,” Devlin said, “I was still a child when the war ended, even I only know some.”
“What happened?” Deakon asked, “That saw my mother exiled, and Saaraphine married to a Seraphim, and everyone so silent about it? My uncle was staked through his shoulders and hung for some crime he committed during a war no one will tell me of.”
“There was a wizard,” Devlin said quietly, “called Taira Nicol, a male draima with control over flesh. He raised an army and brought the Senshi into Aatoria in a war of expansion that the empire did not want. They were only ever stalled until Amitre.” He took a deep breath, “the Naginata Senshi that invaded Amitre were caught in a,” he stopped, “the strategy is called a meat grinder,” he stopped again, “between the seraphim and the Garvem, it’s the only time the two have ever worked together. All but two of them were hung in the arches, Saaraphine and Queen Joanna.” He licked his lips as he thought; “Nicol went mad and destroyed everything in his wake before he killed himself.” He scratched at his chin thinking, Deakon was horrified by what he had heard, and he could see it in his face. “He cast himself to the wind.”
“There’s something you’re not telling me.” Deakon said, “I can hear it in your voice.”
“There were killing fields.” Devlin said, “when he went mad, he destroyed towns with a whim, people exploded seeing him, if he had not destroyed himself he would have been destroyed, at the end even the Senshi rose against him.” It was part of the truth, Deakon knew, but only part of it. He could feel tears streaming down his face and he couldn’t stop, he didn’t even know why he was crying, perhaps it was nothing more than Devlin’s kindness.
“My mother went mad when I was born,” Deakon said quietly, admitting for the first time that his mother was anything other than well, that the paranoia she suffered was more than concern for his well being. “She used to see assailants in the shadows, she used to lock us into our rooms at night and there were always charms against magic about us. Tell me, did my mother ever meet this wizard?”
Devlin nodded long and slow.
“That’s where you are?” Josian said from the stairs that led to the fo’c’sle. “Devlin, you’re not leading the boy astray are you?” Devlin laughed as he shook his head. “Nightmare, pup?” Deakon nodded. “I’ll sit with you if you don’t mind.” He sat down on the rail next to them. “Now what are two eligible bachelors doing out here on a lovely night without something to keep the chill out.” Josian reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small hip flask. “On a night like tonight, we all need to keep the chill out.” He unstoppered it and handed it to Deakon who smelt strong alcohol and drank deeply. “Can’t have the pair of you unchaperoned, now can we?” his laugh was infectious. “Now, pups, “ he addressed them both equally, “did I ever tell you about the night Tobin and I broke into the royal palace of Jiono to replace a jewel that we had stolen the week before?”
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