Honor-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book... - Chapter 15: Chapter 15

Uachi cast an eye around the crowded ale house and said, "Will you walk with me, Diarmán?"
Diarmán gave him a crooked smile and an appraising look from under his long lashes. In the low light cast from the candle on the table, those lashes were golden. "Set my expectations, Uachi: is it just information you want?"
Confused, Uachi knit his brow. "What else?"
With a subtly disappointed expression, Diarmán stood. "Come on." He reached underneath the table and picked up a pack. Then he struck out for the door, weaving his way through the crowded tables. Uachi shouldered his own pack and followed.
As they passed a table crowded with rowdy patrons, something pinged off the back of Diarmán's head. Uachi snatched it from the air out of instinct: it was a scrap of bread, rolled into a hard ball. Diarmán turned, and another piece bounced off his cheek. Uachi looked in the direction whence the missiles issued and saw a ruddy-cheeked woman sitting on a man's lap, laughing.
"Come on, Uachi," Diarmán muttered, closing his hand around Uachi's wrist. Uachi shook him off.
"Go on, pig," the woman said. "Get out."
"Manál derach," Diarmán said under his breath. "Uachi, I can see you're itching for a fight, but I'll be disappointed if you wreck that handsome nose of yours for my sake." He turned away and headed toward the door.
"Wench," Uachi spat. With a scowl, he followed Diarmán, wondering what the beautiful fool had done to win the ire of so many people.
As soon as they crossed the threshold into the cool night, Uachi breathed a sigh of relief. The roar of the people behind them was dampened by the door when it swung shut, and Diarmán was wasting no time in moving away from the ale house. He had started down the street, and Uachi followed. He kept one hand on his dagger and his ears pricked. He didn't think Diarmán was dangerous, but he wasn't keen on surprises.
"The men who gave you that bruise aren't going to come looking for you again, are they?" asked Uachi, now wondering if Diarmán was unpopular all across the countryside.
Diarmán muttered something under his breath.
"What was that?"
Diarmán stopped walking. He turned to Uachi and said with exaggerated crispness, "It wasn't a band of ruffians, Uachi, it was a child throwing stones."
On another day, in another place, with another man, Uachi might have laughed at that. The thought of a grown person being so abused by a child would have struck him as funny. Here, though, it struck him as unsettling. Instead of pursuing the subject, he switched tacks and asked, "What's manál derach?"
"Something you should never call a lady." Diarmán's taut expression melted into amusement. "So, my friend: what is it you wanted to talk about with less company?"
"Do you have lodgings? Somewhere private?"
"No." Diarmán looked up at the darkened sky. "I've a bedroll and a sore back, a lone traveler's lot."
Uachi looked around. There was no one on the road at this hour, but he could never be certain who was listening. He lowered his voice. "This place Aólane, where is it?"
"It isn't very far from House Olarian, where that bitch pretender is holed up," Diarmán said. He turned from Uachi and started to walk again. "If you're from Penrua you likely content yourself with ignorance about the broader world, but you may have heard of her. She styles herself the High Queen, but if she's a queen it's of nothing but lies and sh—"
He staggered back so suddenly that he collided with Uachi.
"What the—" Uachi, acting on instinct, pushed Diarmán forward by the shoulders. "Watch where you're going!"
"What on burning Arc is that?" Diarmán cried.
Uachi looked past his shoulder, his hand falling to his dagger...and then he sighed and clicked his tongue. "Farra, get down."
The shadowcat, who had been observing the two men from the rooftop of the ale house, slunk to the edge of the roof and dropped down, landing gracefully on her paws despite the distance of the drop. She murred, sliding past Uachi so that her side brushed his knees.
Diarmán turned such a look of horrified acknowledgment upon Uachi that the ranger was hard-pressed not to laugh. "You know that thing?" he asked in shock.
"Her name is Farra." Uachi began to walk again, Farra slinking a few paces behind him. "She's harmless. Have you never seen a shadowcat?"
"Gods below. No, I've never seen one. Not in life. Harmless, my arse. Her paw's as big as my head." Diarmán stared openly at Farra, who had moved on ahead of them and paused to sniff a clump of weeds growing up from the road. Slowly, he began to walk again, giving Farra a wide berth.
"Let me rephrase. She's harmless, if you are on my good side." Uachi followed Diarmán, clicking his tongue again. Farra looked up at him, her eyes gleaming in the night, and as he passed her, she fell into step beside him. "Olarian. That sounds familiar," said Uachi.
Diarmán's voice was still taut with nerves. "How involved are you in politics?"
Again, Uachi could have laughed, but instead he shrugged one shoulder noncommittally. "I've heard a bastard prince reigns from Karelin with his Starborn wife," he said. "It doesn't make much of a difference who's wearing the crown when they've got their knee on my back, slashing my coin purse for taxes."
Diarmán gave a bitter laugh. "Fine. Well, whine all you like about how hard your lot is in Penrua, but the people of Narr have it ten times worse. We were brought low by the grasping paws of the Penruan emperor generations ago. Now, a woman from a high house thinks she has the right to rule us all, as if we'd wish to trade one despot for another."
Glancing at Diarmán, Uachi said, "It's the lot of the low-born to be ruled by people who fancy themselves our betters."
Diarmán met Uachi's gaze for a moment, shook his head, and looked away. "Well," he said, and that was all.
"How do I get to Aólane from here?"
"It's quite a distance, I'm afraid. Is she a mage?"
"What?"
"Your wife."
Uachi disliked Diarmán's perception, but it was an easy enough conclusion to draw—asking about mages had been a risk, and his interest in Aólane was obvious, but he did not have time to be as discreet as he wanted. "She has kept company with them."
"Well, you've a journey ahead to find her, then. If you're serious about catching your strays, I hope you wore good boots."
Uachi was surprised by how Diarmán's nonchalant words cut him. He didn't reply, struggling against a pain that had blindsided him. When he looked at Diarmán a few moments later, he caught him studying him with a thoughtful expression.
"I shouldn't joke," he said in a tone that brushed up against apology.
"Doesn't matter." Uachi shook his head brusquely. "There's no future for us. Might as well come around to that fact."
"You love her."
It was as painful as salt in the wound to hear it put so bluntly—yet there was no cleansing, no healing to be found in bare acknowledgment of the fact. "She's my wife," he muttered, as if that explained it all.
Diarmán shrugged. "I've known a few men with wives they hated," he said. "Seriously, Uachi. I'm sorry."
"Doesn't matter," Uachi repeated. "Say I wore my walking boots: how long a journey is it?"
"Weeks afoot. I don't suppose that pretty marke on your cheek means you've a quicker way to get there."
"Traveling by the blood?" Uachi shook his head. The only time he had ever traveled by the blood was when he had gone to Karelin to witness Matei's execution, and even were Matei's head on the chopping block again, he could not do it now. Uachi did not use magic; he could lend his power to others for such a spell, but he had never learned to work it himself.
"Very well. I'm going that way myself, if you want the company."
"You?"
"I've a word or two Her Highness won't like to hear, but I'd very much like to say," Diarmán said. "I've held my tongue, but now we're at war, I figure prudence avails me little."
Uachi chuckled. "High-minded for a commoner, aren't you?" He knew he had little room to speak, being an advisor and trusted confidante of the emperor himself, but what did it matter? He needed to play the part.
"Who said I was a commoner?" Diarmán winked, then turned away, leading Uachi toward the tree line.