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“ARIA,” AVEN CALLED, his voice low. She glanced over her shoulder, saw the other men. Her eyes narrowed.
Fandor looked thoughtful. “Aria,” he repeated. “An Air girl named Aria. A Water boy... I assume you’re Aven? Oh, Mannon will pay very well for you two.”
Aven swore softly and looked around once more. There had to be something— oh, of course! There were metal hooks, as long as his leg, holding hanging pots of flowers all around the outside of the structure. He stretched, jerked two out of the ground, and let the pots fall with a crash.
“Owyn, duck under the table,” he whispered. “Stay there.”
Owyn dropped to the ground, and Aven stepped outside of the structure, his back to Aria. The hooks were heavy, although lighter than his swords, and Aven hoped they were strong enough to take some punishment. He hoped he remembered everything he’d learned from his mother. He hoped someone heard the pots breaking. One of the men facing him moved, and Aven growled at him. The man jumped backwards, clearly startled. Behind him, Aven heard a snap, and someone yelled in pain. That seemed to be the signal — the rest of the guards rushed toward them, and there was no longer time to think, only to react. Aven blocked, dodged, and left guards howling in pain as he used the hooks as bludgeons, hearing the hollow sound of cracked skulls and the snap of broken bones. Turning as he used his right hand hook to sweep the legs out of a guard trying to get past him showed him that Aria had taken wing, and was picking off Fandor’s men from the air. Aven wasn’t sure where Fandor had gone. Hopefully, not for reinforcements.
A moment to breathe, and Aven looked around. His hooks were bent, and he took a moment to replace them with short swords taken from the broken men that now littered the garden. He picked his careful way around to where Aria came to rest, then looked back toward the table. Owyn was still there, curled into a ball beneath the stone.
“Where is he?” Aria demanded. “Fandor. Where did he go?”
“I lost track of him,” Aven admitted. He whirled as a door opened, only to relax when he saw Memfis. Memfis stepped out, and his jaw dropped.
“What happened here?” he demanded, looking as if he’d been slapped. Then he turned and roared, “Meris!”
“What in the Mother’s own name?” Meris asked. “Memfis, what are you shouting for–?” Her voice trailed off as she came out into the garden. “Mother of us all,” she breathed. “What happened here?”
“Fandor happened here,” Aria snapped. “He came from inside the house. He knew Owyn was here. And now he knows who we are. He is going to Mannon.”
“Came from—” Meris repeated. “Come inside. Come inside now. Where’s Owyn? Where’s my Owyn?”
Aven turned and went to the table, crouching and setting the short swords down. “Come out,” he said gently. “I’m not letting anyone take you.”
Owyn had curled in around himself, his forehead pressed to his knees, and he’d wrapped his arms around his head. Shaking his head made his entire body shake. “Can’t,” he said, his voice shaky and muffled. “Can’t come out.”
“Owyn,” Aven said.
“No!” Owyn moaned. “Can’t. Can’t.”
“He’s caught,” Memfis said as he came to join Aven. “He’s spiraling. It’s going to take him a while to come out of it.”
“Can we get him inside?” Aven asked. Memfis shook his head.
“You try and pull him out of there, you’ll just make it worse. I haven’t seen him this bad in a long time.”
Aven nodded. Then he shoved benches out of the way and crawled under the table with Owyn.
“What are you doing?” Memfis asked.
“He’s not coming out, so I’m going in,” Aven answered. “That all right?” he asked Owyn. “I can come in and be with you?”
There was a long pause, then a low, harsh whisper, “Yes.”
“Touching or not touching?”
Another pause. “Touching.”
Aven rested his hand on Owyn’s back. “I’m not letting him take you. I’m not letting you get hurt. If he tries to kill you, he’ll have to go through me first.” He looked over at Aria, who was talking with Meris. Or maybe talking at Meris, who didn’t seem to be saying anything in response. “He’ll have to go through both me and Aria. You’re ours now.” He kept on talking in low gentle tones, shifting until he had maneuvered himself fully under the table, with Owyn between his legs. Only then did he put his arms around the smaller man. “I’ve got you. I’m not letting you go.” He felt Owyn shudder, and tightened his arms, repeating himself over and over, “I’ve got you.”
When he finally looked up, it was darker in the garden. Someone was lighting lanterns, while someone else was taking care of the injured men that Aven and Aria had left lying around. He couldn’t see Memfis, Meris and Aria anymore.
“Memfis?” he called.
“Above you,” Memfis answered. “Sitting on the table.”
“Ah,” Aven said. He shifted slightly, feeling Owyn move with him, and pressed a kiss to the back of Owyn’s neck. “Where are Meris and Aria?”
“They went inside. Meris is furious. She’s got the Guard Captain for the City inside, and is filing formal charges against Fandor for trying to kidnap her grandson. Karse is there, too.”
“Is Aria in there with them?”
“Aria is, I think, in the closet of the room next to the library, listening. We’re not risking her.”
Aven looked up at the underside of the tabletop. “You knew about that?”
Memfis snorted. “It’s why we have conversations about Owyn in the library in the first place. I know how he reacts. Meris knows, too.” He chuckled. “Besides, he likes it better if he thinks he’s getting away with something.”
“I can hear you,” Owyn muttered from inside the circle of Aven’s arms. “Just in case you were wondering.”
Memfis peered down over the edge of the table. “And you can respond? Aven, you do good work.”
Aven smiled and kissed Owyn’s neck again. “Feeling up to coming out of here and into the house?”
“Not yet.”
“How about a blanket, then? It’s getting damp.” Memfis climbed down off the table.
“Blanket is good,” Owyn answered. He didn’t move at all as Memfis walked away.
“Food might be good, too,” Aven suggested.
“Not... not yet,” Owyn answered. “Not... no.”
“All right. When you’re ready.” Aven shifted, resting his forehead on the back of Owyn’s neck. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“This... this is nice,” Owyn murmured. “I... it’s nice.”
“You did this for me, before. In the baths. You said you understood.” Aven smiled. “You didn’t have to show me you understood, you know.”
To his surprise, Owyn giggled. “Not my idea.”
“I know. Do you mind if I kill him?”
To Aven’s shock, Owyn sat upright and twisted in his arms, his eyes wide. “No!” he gasped. “No, you can’t kill him!”
“Why not?” Aven asked. “Owyn, I doubt I’d actually have the chance. But why can’t I, if I did have the chance? Remember, I don’t know much about land.”
“Because he’s a Loremaster,” Owyn answered. “He’s a city official. If you kill him, they’ll take you and throw you into the Smoking Mountain.”
“What?” Aven gasped. “You’re not joking?”
“Not even half. City officials are sacred.” Owyn snorted, then intoned, “They are chosen by the Mother to serve her children.” It sounded as if he was quoting something, but Aven didn’t know what. “They’re not. Not anymore. They might have been, once, but most of them... they buy their positions.”
“If the positions are supposed to be sacred, how can they be bought?” Aven asked.
Owyn shook his head. He leaned back into Aven’s chest, resting his head against Aven’s shoulder. “Because since Mannon, the whole city is corrupt. From the very top to the very bottom. There are a few good ones left. Meris, and Mem. Karse. He’ s a good one. Most guards would have pocketed those casts. Karse almost certainly gave them to Fandor. But most of the others? They’d stab their own mothers if it would make them a clipped cast. You saw it. There were guards here with Fandor. There were guards here to take me away.”
“I’m starting to think I prefer it out on the waves,” Aven grumbled. Owyn nodded.
“Tell me about it,” he said. His voice sounded sleepy, and his tense body slowly uncurled as he relaxed in Aven’s arms. “Tell me about living on the water. And... you can breathe underwater, can’t you? That’s what the gills are for.”
“That’s what the gills are for,” Aven agreed. “I change when I’m in salt water. That’s why trousers are really weird for me.”
“And shoes. I can’t imagine you’ve ever worn anything on your feet before.” Owyn yawned and closed his eyes.
“Are you all right?” Aven asked.
“Better than I was,” Owyn answered. “Keep telling me. Tell me about Melody.”
Aven laughed. “Melody is a water-cat,” he said. “I told you that. She’s big. A lot bigger than Trinket.”
“Cats are bigger than mice,” Owyn mumbled. His entire body seemed to be limp, heavier than Aven would have expected.
“Water-cats are bigger than me,” Aven said. “She’s almost two of me, laid end to end. Long, like an eel. Mostly tail, really. She’s gray, all over. And soft, smooth.”
“No scales?”
“No. More like leather.” Aven smiled. “Mouth full of sharp teeth, like a shark. But smarter than a shark. Fa found her when I was a baby. She was hurt, and he put her to rights. We raised her, until she joined a pod. But she stays close to us. She’s been with me since before I could walk.” He looked down and stopped talking — Owyn was asleep. He shifted gently, putting his back against the central pillar of the table, and watched the shadows creeping across the grass. A door opened, light spilling out of the house as Memfis came back outside. He looked surprised as he reached the table and knelt down.
“He’s asleep?” he murmured. “Aven, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him come out of that state so quickly.”
“This is normal?” Aven asked. “He always sleeps?”
“Always. Panic uses a lot of energy. He goes so completely into a panic that it usually takes him hours before he stops, and he usually only stops because he passes out from exhaustion. Lean forward.” Aven did, and Memfis wrapped a blanket around him and Owyn. “You look like you could use a nap yourself.”
“I don’t kn—.” Aven yawned, then grinned. “All right. I do know. Yes. What’s going on in the house?”
“The Guard Captain is gone, and promised Meris that he’d present Fandor’s head to her on a platter, with the guards who were here with him as garnish. Word has gone out to the rest of the Council that the adoption papers were filed earlier today for Owyn, and that Fandor has disgraced his position as Loremaster by attempting to kidnap the son of another Councilor. The Council will meet to formally to recognize the adoption and remove Fandor from his position.”
Aven nodded. “What happened to the men? I saw someone taking them out, but I wasn’t paying much attention.”
“They were all turned over to the Guard Captain. Some were guards. The rest of them were gutter trash, in it for a quick cast.” Memfis shifted around. “The dead—”
“How many?”
“Killed? Seven, I think. Five darts, and two heads bashed in.” Memfis chuckled. “I never thought those ornamental hooks were good for anything other than looking pretty.”
“They were solid enough. And the same basic shape as my swords.” Aven took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I thought I was supposed to be sick or something. Isn’t that what happens when you kill your first man? That’s what all the stories say.”
“If you’re sick now, it’ll be into Owyn’s hair, and he’ll thrash you for it,” Memfis said. “And no. It doesn’t take everyone like that.”
“Does Aria know? That she killed five men?”
Memfis gave a low laugh. “I told her. And she said she wished it had been more. She’s furious that someone dared to try and lay a hand on her Owyn.” He nodded toward the house. “She hasn’t come out because she’s still too angry. She’s afraid that she’d frighten Owyn even more.”
Aven smiled. “Tell her she should come out. He’ll appreciate having her here when he wakes up.” He blinked. “When do we go to the Dark Council?”
“We’re not,” Memfis said. “They’re coming here. Meris put her foot down. I’m not sure how I’m going to talk her into letting us leave afterward. She’s convinced that if we step foot outside her gates, that Owyn will vanish like smoke.”
Aven nodded. He abruptly went from sleepy to tired in his bones, and sleeping with Owyn in his arms sounded like the best idea he’d ever had. “She might not be wrong. Until they find Fandor, we’ll have to walk carefully.”
“I think he’s learned his lesson,” Memfis said. “He won’t risk his precious hide again. Not now that he knows that Owyn is protected.”
Aven thought about pointing out that Owyn had been protected before. He’d been protected by Memfis, and by Meris. By high walls that should have been enough of a barrier to stop an attempted kidnapping. But Fandor had gotten through anyway. How? How had he gotten into the garden? Who had let him into the house? He thought about it, but surely those same thoughts had also occurred to Memfis? Aven shook his head. “The walls and the house and you and Meris weren’t protection enough?” he pointed out. “We should still be careful.”
Memfis chuckled. “You’re as bad as she is.” He patted Aven’s leg. “We’ve set guards to keep watch on the gardens. They’re patrolling, so you might hear them. Don’t worry. You’re safe to sleep out here, if you want.” He looked up. “I’ll wake you in an hour. That will give you both time to wash up and eat before the Dark Council arrives.”
He got up and walked back to the house, and Aven sighed and closed his eyes. The blanket was warm, and Owyn’s gentle, deep breathing was soothing, summoning Aven into sleep. He could get used to this, he mused. He heard, as if at a great distance, the sound of footsteps crunching on gravel. The guards, Aven thought, letting himself float into darkness, into sleep.
Only to be dragged abruptly back to awake by something wet and stinking pressed over his mouth and nose, by a hand hard around his throat, by the icy-shock of Owyn’s warmth being pulled away. He gasped, breathing in the stench, opening his eyes to see a man crouched over him— Fandor! Aven grabbed at the hands at his throat, over his mouth, but his arms felt leaden, and his fingers didn’t want to work. He saw Owyn, struggling in the arms of another man, a cloth pressed over his face. Then the world swirled and swayed and faded from night to a dull gray to a dead black.