“I’m old enough to hear whatever you have to say,” Paul insisted.
Koradan’s face grew sterner. “I can think of a number of topics that are not suitable for the ears of a fifteen year old, just one of them being the fate of eight men who are still trapped at the bottom of the mine.”
Lynette winced as he said it. At least the men in the main tunnel now had food, water, light, and a real hope of being rescued. The men in the lower chamber had nothing, and hadn’t done for thirty-six hours now. If any of them had survived the earthquake, it would be a horrific way to die…
“Fine,” Paul said, and Lynette had known him long enough to see that he was putting on a brave face, when Koradan’s words had actually rattled him a little. No doubt he hadn’t spent too long thinking about what was going on inside the mine, too caught up in his own part of the rescue. “Goodnight, then. And tomorrow… maybe I could have another ride on Ashd? When you’re coming back down the mountain?”
“Maybe your mother can decide on that based on how well you follow her instructions tomorrow?”
Paul opened his mouth to argue, but Koradan simply raised his eyebrows. Paul’s eyes slid over to Lynette. She said nothing, but met his gaze with a raised eyebrow of her own. “Yeah, okay,” Paul said, sighing in defeat. “Goodnight, then.” He slouched off to his room, closing the door behind him.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“How much of our conversation is he actually going to hear?” Koradan asked, with the savviness of someone accustomed to the tricks of children. “His ear is going to be pressed to the door for the next hour, at least.”
“Not much, if we don’t speak too loudly. The walls are insulated and the door’s thick.”
Koradan smiled and drained the last of his whisky. “Good to know.” He set down the cup, then scratched at the base of his horn. Lynette hadn’t paid too much attention before, but she saw now that each of his fingers was tipped with a short, black claw, thicker and sharper than a human fingernail. That detail made her take another look at him. She could see dark stubble covering his chin.
“Do salases grow beards?” she asked, aware of how surprised she sounded.
“We can,” Koradan said, ruefully rubbing his own chin. “Mostly, it’s older men who’ve retired who have beards, or high ranking members of the King’s Guard. For no reason other than tradition. Beards are seen as a symbol of wisdom and rank. I just haven’t been able to shave for five days, so…” He shrugged.
Up close, with the light from the lantern casting a warm glow over his face, she noticed other details she’d missed before. He had short, black hair that grew over the crown of his head and nestled in around the base of his horns. His upper canine teeth were slightly longer and sharper than a human’s, and she wondered if they were used for tearing meat off the bone – given his comment about the traditional salas diet being meat-based. His ears were pointed at the tips, slightly larger than a human’s, but pressed flat against his head, so that they weren’t particularly noticeable. But aside from that, his features were oddly human – the same nose, eyes just the right distance apart, strong jaw… though his lower lip was a little fuller than a human’s might be – designed to accommodate the tusks he didn’t have, perhaps? She thought about asking about that, wondering if it might be too personal…
“You wanted to talk about something?” Koradan prompted her, making her jump as she realised how lost in her own thoughts she’d become.
“Yes, um… Well, it wasn’t what I was going to say, but my first question is how do you get Paul to listen to you? You’ve been here less than a day, and I can’t get him to do that after raising him for the past fifteen years.”
“I suppose it could be something to do with me letting him ride on my dragon,” Koradan said, with a deliberate sort of cluelessness.
Lynette rolled her eyes at him. “Very funny. Well, yes, you have made an impression. But some days I think he’s being contrary just to spite me.”
Koradan’s expression turned serious. “Perhaps it’s not my place to say so, but it can’t have been easy raising him without your husband. And probably no easier for Paul to lose his father so young.”
There were a number of possible responses to that, but Lynette chose one that would hopefully direct the conversation away from Kai, given the number of conflicting emotions his memory created. “Do you have any children?”
Koradan shook his head. “No. Vreki riders typically don’t get married. We’re too focused on looking after our vreki and our service to the Stone King. Riding a vreki isn’t just about throwing a saddle on them and jumping on their back. It takes years of training and practice to create a strong mental bond with them. There’s not a lot of time left for finding a woman. But I had a brother who got married. He had two children. Both boys.” A sad, fond smile came over his face. “They were adorable little balls of energy. Constantly getting into mischief.” He trailed off, the smile fading.
“Where are they now?” Lynette asked, though she could probably guess the answer.
Koradan sighed. “Dead. Law and order in Chalandros have been decaying for a decade or more. The Stone King is still trying to maintain control over Iddishmeil – that’s our capital city, a bit over a day’s walk from the gate. But he’s slowly failing. A couple of years ago, a band of ragions attacked the city. They were looting for food and angry with the Stone King’s preferential treatment of other species. Which is beyond ironic, but we won’t get into that… So anyway, my brother and his wife were living in the soldier’s wing of the palace. Bengarvon – my brother – was a foot soldier.” Koradan paused and swallowed hard. He glanced at the bottle of whisky, seeming to debate with himself for a moment, then he poured a small dribble into his cup.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Lynette said, “but what’s a ragion?”
“Uh… I’m not sure what you call them here. They’re big. Nine feet tall, they have squarish heads, their skin is grey and looks kind of like they’re made out of rock-”
“Oh! Trolls,” Lynette blurted out, then cringed. Would Koradan be offended by the description?
But he gave her a wry smile instead. “Trolls. In this case, I wouldn’t disagree. This particular group were savage, in a way that defied all Chalandrian codes and morals. They swept through the palace, going after not just the soldiers, but their wives, their families, their servants. My brother went out to defend the palace, but they got in anyway. They made it to the chamber where his wife, Gasha lived. She wasn’t a trained warrior, but salas women are not to be messed with. Particularly where their children are concerned. She pulled a curtain rail off the wall and defended her children against three ragions for as long as she could. She actually made one of them bleed, which is a damn fine achievement for a civilian with a metal pole. But it was always a losing battle. They killed her, and then Ratch and Gravin. Ratch was only two years old. Gravin was seven. And then later, after the battle was over, their father showed up, saw that his entire family was dead, and stabbed himself through the heart with his own sword.”
Koradan’s hands had tightened on his cup. He lifted it to his lips and drained it in one swallow, then set it very, very gently back on the table.
Lynette didn’t know what to say. Korodan had mentioned his sister-in-law’s courage before, but she’d been too angry at the time to pay any attention. But she was all too familiar with the pain of losing a loved one, and to lose so many in one day must have been horrendous. “Were you a part of that battle?” she asked, hoping she wasn’t poking too hard at old wounds.
“I was.” She expected him to say he was busy defending the king’s throne room, or some other important dignitaries, but what he said next was so much worse. “I was in the corridor outside Gasha’s room. I spent the half an hour she was defending her children trying to get to her. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a ragion fight, but it’s like trying to kill a brick wall. Their hides are an inch thick and they’ve become very good at crafting armour. And they’re strong.” Koradan shook his head, his eyes closing for a moment. “By the gods, they’re strong.” His hand came up, probing at the stump of his right horn. “One of them grabbed me at one point, by both horns. I thought he was going to pick me up and throw me, but instead, he just twisted his hands and snapped it right off. Felt like someone had just split my skull open. I don’t think I was much use after that. Bengarvon found me in the hallway, lying in a pool of my own blood. I could barely see straight. I saw him go into Gasha’s room and crawled over to the doorway, just in time to see him die. I don’t think I would have survived that day if it wasn’t for Ashd.”
“He killed the ragions? Can a vreki kill a ragion?”
