The Howling Delve - Jaleigh Johnson [11]
The spark of triumph in his father's eyes dimmed. "Will it be occupied, at this time of day?" Balram asked.
"Possibly," Aazen said, and in truth, many of the local boys his age spent their free time among the blackened stones. But Kali would not go there for safety, of that he was certain. The estate was too near Morel house and too open to the world. There were better places to hide.
His father was silent, trying to determine the best course to take. Aazen prayed he would let him act, but that decision depended entirely on how much Balram trusted his son. In his heart, Aazen had always believed his father had little faith in him, and so he was surprised-and shamefully warmed-when Balram said, "Then you will have to do it." He nodded, the idea seeming to gain merit, the more he considered it. "Kail trusts you. Take my horse. Find Kail in the ruins and draw him out, away from any watching eyes. You need not be the one to slay him," he assured Aazen, squeezing his sons shoulder briefly. "Draw him away, and we will be waiting."
Aazen sat silent a long time under his fathers penetrating gaze. This would be the critical test. If he gave in too readily, his father might grow suspicious. Aazen swallowed, hard and audibly in the quiet room. "No."
Balram's eyes narrowed a fraction. "No?"
"I can't betray him, Father." Aazen put a tremor in his voice, a weak, small titter that his father would not be able to tolerate. His father despised weakness. "Please don't ask me-"
The slap blurred the edges of Aazen's vision. His left eye immediately began to throb and water, but the blow had not been debilitating. His father meant only to silence him…
Obediently, he sat, teary-eyed, as Balram rose slowly to tower over him.
"I am asking you, boy," he said, his breath hot and sour on Aazen's face. "I am asking you to help me, to protect me, as I would lay down my life to protect you. Do you hate me so much that you would allow me to be taken, to be killed?" His eyes softened. The hurt crept in. The sight of it made Aazen sick to his stomach.
"No, Father!" he cried, "I don't hate you!" And that was the truth. The only person Aazen hated in that instant was himself. "No, of course not!"
"Of course not," his father repeated, his tone soothing. "You are becoming a man, a loyal son." He touched a large hand to Aazen's head and wiped the moisture away from his reddening eye. "I will bring my horse, and you will ride. Go swiftly, and do as I instructed. In the morning, all this will be a fading memory."
A memory, Aazen thought. If only his whole life could be someone else's memory.
CHAPTER 5
Esmeltaran, Amn 12 Eleasias, the Year
of the Sword (1365 DR)
Kail swung off the horse. He seemed to fall a long way to the ground. He felt grass under his feet, and mud. In the colored twilight, he gazed up a steep hill speckled with what looked like small swaying firebrands.
The tangerine rose bushes were seasons old and thriving, planted one each in front of a dozen small headstones. The land he stood on belonged to Morel, the burial plots for servants who, had died without family in his father's employ. No one passing on the nearby lane would notice the graves, but the expensive flowers-grown for the memory of twelve servants whose names would never be recalled-were sure to be marked by all.
He climbed to the steepest side of the hill, leading Haig's horse up alongside him. Letting go of the horse's reins, he dropped to his knees between two markers. He began plucking at the grass, fingers and nails raking, searching for a seam. His father had shown him the place long ago, but Kail remembered this pair of stones clearly. His father had made him memorize the names: Seth Tarin and Rose Olindrake.
Mud and grass stains covered his hands. It was no good- he'd need something to cut through. Reluctantly, Kail stood and turned to Haig's horse. He felt around the saddle blanket to the bags draped on either side. He found a knife in one.
Movement from behind set every nerve in his body on edge. Kali spun, slashing blindly with the knife.