Back to the palace

Charyic walked slowly through the city as the sun was rising, ostensibly she was on her way back to her room, but she didn’t feel any sense of urgency. She stopped at the now empty shop she had gotten the sword for Ayil from and shook her head. The Holy Father didn’t see the value of devious people, it was one of the more serious failings she’d seen in the people here.

She smiled to herself. It was no wonder Ayil ran circles around Isemal.

“Ah,” the voice startled her and she turned in surprise. “I haven’t seen many people stop to look in the window since the shop closed.” The man facing her was almost as tall as Ivhir but had dark hair and his eyes were mostly brown with just a hint of green. He looked oddly familiar.

“You look very familiar.” She tilted her head and tried to think where she knew him from. Speculatively, she made a slow soft chitter between her teeth and cheek.

He grinned and spread his arms slightly in response. “I think I’d remember someone with your odd hairstyle.”

Laughing, Charyic tried to tuck her butchered hair behind her ears. “It’s new.”

“When I was told there was a thief being kept by the Holy Father I was sure it was a mistake.”

“No. I was a gift.” She answered unable to keep the hint of sadness out of her voice. “I have to go back.” Charyic nodded her head toward the palace.

He nodded his head slowly. “I’m sorry.”

She took a deep breath, “Grandfather knows what he’s doing. And the Maiden of Mischief can run circles around almost anyone. It’ll be fine.”

“If-If you ever want or need a break from,” he glanced down the street, “them. There is a small sweets shop two doors down, ask for Nyvor.”

“I am fond of sweets.” She gave him a smile and he bowed elaborately, making her laugh.

“Charyic?!” Miryil’s sharp voice carried.

With a sigh, Charyic turned toward the voice, “Miryil. You’re out early.”

The woman stormed up to Charyic and grabbed her by the chin, turning her head roughly to look at her hair. She made a disgusted noise. “What have you done to your hair?”

“None of your concern.” Charyic stepped back and frowned at the Light Bringer who followed and grabbed her by the arm.

“You’re not allowed to be here. Of that I’m certain. Your bad behavior is absolutely my concern.” Charyic struggled as the woman pulled her along.

“Stop pulling me, you are hurting my arm, Miryil.” At her words, Miryil squeezed her arm harder. Charyic kicked her and dug her heels in.

“Miryil!” Erech darted between the two of them and gripped Miryil’s arm. “Let her go.”

Miryil released her and Charyic stepped back into the street. Nyvor was at her side immediately, “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine, thank you.” She turned her back on the Light Bringers and made the gesture for him to go. Instead, he looked around her to Miryil and then back again, “You don’t have to go with them.”

“She does.” Without turning, Charyic knew from her tone that Miryil probably had her hand on a weapon.

“I do. But I will be back to visit your shop. Do you have anything salty sweet? Or sour sweet?” Charyic gave him a half smile.

“I can make something. Charyic, is it?” He smiled as she nodded. His smile faded quickly as Erech put a hand on her shoulder.

“We’re going now.” Erech’s tone was not to be argued with but the look on Nyvor’s face told her he would if she wanted to.

“It was nice to meet you,” Charyic said politely and stepped back making the subtle Iskesh gesture for silence as if she were brushing something away from her face.

“Likewise.” He bowed to the Light Bringers and turned to go.

Charyic turned as well and walked toward the palace, flanked by Miryil and Erech, lost in thought. Had Nyvor ignored her or had he not understood? Had he lied when he made the open armed gesture? A clever person could have learned it from watching thieves carefully, but why would he pretend?

“So you’re going to ignore us?” Miryil’s annoyed words brought her out of her thoughts.

“I’m sorry I was thinking. Did you say something?” Charyic asked coolly.

“Who was that?” Erech kept his curious inquiry quiet.

“I’m not-I’m not sure. I think I know him from somewhere but I can’t place him.” Charyic shook her head. “It’s bothering me.”

“You seemed happy to see him.” Miryil’s snide tone grated.

“He was being charming. And I think deliberately trying to make me laugh.” Charyic tried again to tuck her hair behind her ears.

Ivhir met them as they were entering the palace grounds. “Charyic!” He blinked in surprise. “What happened to your hair.”

She shrugged.

“Where is my knife?” Ivhir frowned.

“I lent it to someone.” She couldn’t keep the smug smile from curving her lips.

“Probably that man she was talking to.” Miryil snarled. “I’ll drag him to the cells.”

“I lent it to the priestess of Ayil.” Charyic turned her head and let her look convey exactly what she thought of Miryil, stupid, hateful woman. “If you had eyes and a brain that worked you would have noticed that he wasn’t standing near enough to me to be given anything until you tried to drag me away. And at that point, you should have been able to see he didn’t have a Light Bringer’s knife on his person.”

Miryil glared back at her wordlessly.

“Why would the priestess of Ayil need it?” Ivhir asked suddenly curious.

Charyic shrugged. “She said you’ll get it back eventually,” adding cheekily, “Why don’t you borrow mine until you do?” Her stomach growled. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to pass the kitchen on the way to my room and get some food before I go back.”

His head tilted, “Something changed in the night, what did you do?”

She shook her head and brushed past him, heading for the kitchen. It didn’t bother her in the slightest that Miryil began to argue loudly with Erech and Ivhir as she walked away.