To Whatever End (Echoes of Imara Book 1) (5 page)

“Attalon seems like it must belong to another world,” Edson said. “Hard to believe anything exists across the sea. Is it true that they enslave Wielders and Shapers?”

“Some of them,” Cecily said. “One of my classmates at the Lyceum was from Attalon. His family fled to Halthas so they wouldn’t have to hide his abilities.”

“I’ve been all over the continent,” Daro said, “but never to Attalon. Can’t say I ever wanted to.”

As they came in sight of the first of the three spans, Cecily pointed to the huge bridges. “The spans are the only way to get between northern and southern Halthas. The older part of the city is on the north side of the river. After the invasion, as they were rebuilding, people started settling the south side. Without the skill of Shapers and some specially trailed Wielders, it wouldn’t have been possible to build those bridges. The river is half a mile wide here.”

Edson’s mouth opened as his head turned to follow the line of the first span. It soared across the river in a gentle arc.

“Only in Halthas, or so people say,” Daro said. “There isn’t another city quite like it.”

“What do you think?” Cecily asked Edson with a smile.

“It’s so big,” he said, his voice soft.

Cecily just nodded. It was big. Although she’d been born and raised in the city, the size of it still impressed her each time she visited. Towering buildings, sprawling streets, enormous gardens. So much of the city defied reason.

Daro looked unimpressed, as usual. He raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “Too many people.”

Cecily laughed. “For you, certainly, mountain man.”

He made no move to argue. “The city is not my place. But don’t worry, Edson, I won’t let you get lost. Let’s go.” With a clap on the back and a smile, he turned from the railing to go collect their things.

Cecily paused and leaned into the railing to look up at the city beyond. Halthas always brought mixed feelings, reminders of the complications she had left behind. From her vantage point she could still see the palace, the tips of its towers glinting in the sunlight. The Lyceum was hidden behind the wall. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she had lived in that world.

However, most of her tasks in the city were pleasant ones, so she tried not to let her thoughts drift too far into the past. She set off to find her husband and help him with the unloading of their cargo.

If the docks in East Haven were a bustle of activity, the docks in southern Halthas were absolute chaos. Yet it was a controlled chaos, with dockworkers and sailors, merchants and passengers all intent on gathering their belongings and cargo and dispersing into the city. The wagon and horses were led off the riverboat under Daro’s watchful eye. Edson stood to the side, doing his best to keep out of the way, with minimal success. Cecily felt a momentary pang of pity for the poor kid as another dockworker barked at him. She didn’t have time for more than a quick consoling glance in his direction. The dockworkers tended to be gruff, and the best thing for them all to do was to get their cargo off the dock as soon as they could.

“There you are!” a familiar voice called out above the din. Cecily turned to see the bearded face of her old friend Griff. She hadn’t seen him in months, but he always seemed to look the same, his auburn hair short, his red beard neatly trimmed. He wore a leather vest over a crisp linen shirt, the sleeves rolled up over his thick forearms, with dark pants and sturdy black boots. As with all merchants, his belt gave an indication of his status. Made of supple leather and encrusted with more than a few shining jewels, it showed Griff was doing well.

Daro walked forward to greet him. They clasped hands and made as if to shake before grasping each other in a sturdy hug. “It’s good to see you, old friend,” Daro said as he stepped away.

Griff’s smile was warm. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you got bigger since the last time I saw you. Must be that wild Imaran blood,” he said with a chuckle. Daro smiled at him and shook his head at his friend’s jest. “Well, at least we know that wife of yours is feeding you.” He turned to Cecily and held his arms wide. “Cecily, my dear! It seems putting up with that brute of a man hasn’t left you any worse for wear.”

She smiled and stepped into his embrace, letting him crush her against his barrel chest. “I manage to hold my own.” He squeezed her arms and let her go. “Griff, may I present Edson. He is planning to enter the Lyceum next year. We thought it would be good to give him a taste of the city ahead of time.”

“Good, good, another set of hands,” bellowed Griff with a laugh. “Will he be joining us tomorrow night?”

“Of course,” Cecily said.

“Excellent. Do we have some stories for you, my lad. You want to hear about the rages of war? We can tell you all about it. The battles, the blood, the heroism,” Griff said, and he swung his hand as if brandishing a sword.

Edson’s eyes were wide and Cecily patted Griff’s arm. “Don’t get him too excited, Griff, you’re going to scare him.”

As she checked the contents of their wagon, Cecily noticed another familiar face, quietly inspecting the hitch and lashings. She caught Serv’s eye and smiled. Griff and Serv had been friends and business partners as long as she had known them. Daro had worked with them as a merchant guard for years before he’d met Cecily. Serv had short sandy-blond hair and light blue eyes, and he kept his face clean shaven. He wore a vest that came to his waist in front and curved to trail down past his knees in back. Beneath was a long tunic of muted green and loose brown pants tucked into tall boots with brass buckles. He always wore his worn leather sword belt, and his curved northern-style blade hung at his hip. His Wielding ability was small but effective. A quick flick of Serv’s hand and an enemy would find their foot stuck to the floor or their blade stuck in its sheath. He gave her a slight nod and touched his hand to his forehead.

They made their way up the low incline away from the docks toward the city gates. The huge walls towered above them and the guards at the gate checked all who passed through. Daro and Griff led the horses in front. Cecily could hear their voices but couldn’t quite make out their words. Speaking of business, she assumed. Griff and Serv were well-respected merchants, both in Halthas itself and in the neighboring kingdoms. Most of the goods Daro intended to sell would go through them, although Daro would deal with some of his customers directly. Most of Cecily’s books would be sold through them as well, particularly the ones bound for the Lyceum. It saved her the trouble of dealing with the administration of her former school, as she hadn’t exactly left on good terms. She sighed as she thought about the bridges she’d burned in the city.

Serv walked alongside the wagon, his hand resting lightly on the side. He wore his sword with the assurance of someone who knew how to use it. Edson walked next to Cecily at the back of the wagon, his head darting back and forth as he took in the sights, smells and sounds of the city. It was impressive, even in the less affluent quarters near the river. The buildings showed little wear, despite their age. Cecily often wondered if there were Shapers alive who could reproduce the long-lasting architecture of the older structures.

Griff and Serv’s warehouse wasn’t far from the riverfront. The air hung heavy with the scents of fish, horses, and crowded bodies. Daro drifted to the back of the wagon and fell into step with Cecily. She tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and squeezed him gently. He didn’t love being in the city, but she could sense his greater ease at being off the riverboat.

The streets were busy and Cecily noticed signs of festivities. Floral wreaths decorated doors and garlands hung along the rooflines and over windows. She and Daro always visited Halthas during the Feast of Sovereignty, a late-summer festival celebrating the triumph of Halthas over the Attalonian invasion.

Their wagon lumbered ahead and Daro leaned in to Cecily. “I’ll catch up,” he said and veered off to the side. The crowd parted for him as he walked.

Edson fell into step with her as they turned up a side street. “Where’s he going?”

“He probably smelled food,” she said.

They continued toward Griff and Serv’s warehouse, and Daro met them after a short while. He handed a small bundle to Cecily and tossed one to Edson, who held it up to his nose and sniffed.

“What is it?” Edson asked.

“Meat pie,” Daro said. He held a crisp brown pastry wrapped in a thin cloth. He took a bite and closed his eyes, chewing slowly. “This makes it all worthwhile.”

Cecily laughed. “I told you he smelled food.”

The streets were lined with tidy two-story buildings, shops on the ground floor and living quarters above. The party paused at a crossroads and Daro conferred briefly with Griff. Their goods would be taken to Griff and Serv’s warehouse for safekeeping overnight. Daro would begin distribution of many of his special order pieces the next day, delivering to some of his more prominent clients personally. She knew his reputation as a war hero only added to his popularity, but she was careful to keep that to herself. He bristled at the thought that people valued his work for his name over his craftsmanship. She wondered if her family had any of his work displayed in their home. It made her smile to know her mother must be torn between her disdain for Daro and her desire to keep up with current fashion. Maybe she would bring a piece for her mother when she visited. It would either please her mother because she could brag about her relationship to the artist, or it would rankle her, which Cecily had to admit, would certainly be pleasing to her.

As they walked toward their usual inn, the Rising Sun, Cecily resolved to visit her family in the morning and bring with her a token of Daro’s craft as a gift. Maybe not a token; perhaps something large that they couldn’t help but display. Yes, something large would do nicely. For the first time, she actually looked forward to her visit with her family, if only to see the look on her mother’s face.

5. FAMILY MATTERS

Cecily clung to the bedpost and sucked in a deep breath while Daro worked the cords of her corset. He pulled the strings tight and she let out a little “ouch.”

Daro loosened the strings a bit before tying them. “Sorry. You know I hate fastening you in this contraption. I’m terrible at it.”

“Aw, don’t you like dressing me?” She looked over her shoulder and pressed her lips together in a smile.

“I’d rather be
undressing
you,” Daro answered and pulled her in close. “You do look rather delicious in all this finery.” He leaned down and kissed her while his hands slid around her waist to her corset strings.

She pushed him back with a gentle nudge. “Oh no. I’m not going through all that cinching again. Not today, at any rate.”

Daro smiled and reached out to brush his fingers across her bare collarbone. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders, cascading down her back, and he pushed a few loose tendrils away from her neck. His touch sent a pleasant tingle down her spine. He leaned in and kissed her shoulder, and she let him lay her down gently on the bed.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have to re-dress
.

Half an hour later, she was dressed and thought she had her hair under control. She spun around and fluffed her skirt. The corset was deep green and plunged to a low ‘v’ in front, emphasizing the shape of her hips. The top was straight and pushed her breasts up, an effect she found dramatically uncomfortable, and Daro obviously found alluring. Her blouse was cream-colored with a small ruffle across the neckline and black ribbons sewn into the long sleeves, making it appear as if they tied down the sides. The floor-length skirt had wide, deep green stripes alternating with pale green. Brighter colors were the current fashion in Halthas, but Cecily would only go so far to please her mother’s sensibilities.

“Well?” she asked and looked to her husband for approval.

His mouth turned up in a lazy smile. “You look incredible, as always. Of course, you could be wearing brown burlap and you’d still look wonderful.”

“I think brown burlap might be more comfortable than this ensemble.”

“Then why wear it?”

“It’s one less thing for her to complain about, I guess,” she said. She turned and moved her hair out of the way as Daro draped a necklace around her neck and fastened the clasp behind her.

“And this doesn’t give her cause for complaint?” he asked as he ran his fingers along the chain at her throat and cupped the blue stone in his large hand.

It was simple at first glance, a winding chain of silver with a deep blue sapphire that dangled at her neck. The setting for the stone was an intricate lace of woven silver holding the sparkling gem in place. Daro had made it for her, painstakingly weaving each thread of silver around the sapphire. It had been Daro’s bridal gift to her; there was nothing she valued more.

Cecily fingered the necklace at her throat. The low-cut blouse that was so fashionable in Halthas ensured her Imaran-style necklace was visible. “If she complains about my necklace now she’s just being petty. She’s commented on it enough times in the past. But I can see it in her eyes, she knows it’s beautiful.”