45. The Gods at Play (Jovadão)¶
If he hadn’t helped design the cells below the House of Breezes himself, Jovadão would have been surprised at the choice of material. Oiled wooden planks mounted to springs formed the walls, floor, and ceiling, making the cell slightly more comfortable than cold stone. It was made to hold Feiçeira, the sprung wood designed to absorb the vibrations of aural magic. Not that he would have been able to work magic anyway, since the Sarmalans had bound and gagged him with thick ropes. The comfort he took from their fear didn’t quite outweigh the pain from his wound or the bruises the guards had given him, none of which Tadevi had bothered to Heal.
There had been a few moments in their years together when Jovadão had almost forgotten what Tadevi was, almost believed the lie of their friendship. He wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed that the lie had existed on both sides. Mostly, he felt thirsty. He hadn’t had a drink in over a dozen years, but if someone were to set a bottle in front of him now, he’d drain it in one go.
The walls were effective at blocking magic, but, ironically, they did little to keep out the sound from outside. Thus Jovadão had no trouble hearing the chatter of the three guards, who seemed happy to have him in their clutches. He had allowed himself to believe that the Sarmalan troops had liked him as a commander, that he had earned their admiration despite being Cantereian. He hadn’t understood the depth of their resentment or their bigotry. It was a mistake he wouldn’t make again, should he somehow get out of here.
Without warning, the voices of the guards turned to cries of alarm. A brief silence was followed by a loud thump against the door of his cell and the sound of a body sliding to the floor. The door opened a moment later, blinding him.
“You’ve looked better,” Belosveka said, stepping over the body. She knelt and removed Jovadão’s gag. He spat out wet rope fibers and worked his jaw.
“You should see my foes,” he said.
Belosveka snorted as she worked at his bindings. “If one of those foes was Tadevi Kenem, then I did see him, just now. That’s how I knew you were here. What happened?”
She freed his right arm and he rolled out his shoulder, working the circulation back into it. “It was a rescue operation,” Jovadão said. “Tadevi wasn’t supposed to be there.”
“A rescue? For whom?”
“A novitiate named Adranaya. One of our operatives was recruiting her, but he got too close. She could have compromised the whole operation.” He paused. “She and Gadarien had ties to the Anashi girl.”
Belosveka froze, then continued working at the rope on his left arm. “Was Vaye involved in the rescue?”
“Yes. They escaped, although I’m not sure how much of Adranaya’s mind survived. Tadevi was halfway through turning her into an Oruma. But if they make it out of Thelenza, they’ll probably head to Rilão.”
Belosveka grunted. “Not sure that’s a good idea. The Vorkyrda just told me that she’s planning to invade Cantereia before the next moon.”
“So soon?” Jovadão exclaimed. “We’re not ready. What pretext is she giving Hoshin?”
“Ostensibly to root out the Feiçeira, although obviously that’s a distraction. She’s asking Dzhar to secure the border and prevent the Feiçeira from escaping.” The Dzharian released his left wrist, freeing him to work on his ankle bindings. He had a thousand questions, but he’d quiz her after they got out of the House of Breezes. While he untied his ankles, Belosveka dragged the bodies of the guards into the cell. Jovadão finally got loose and she helped him to his feet, supporting him as he tested out his wounded leg. “Which way?” she said.
“At the end of this hall, there’s a ladder to a service tunnel. We can get into the city from there.” He stopped, gripping Belosveka’s broad forearm. “I didn’t believe you about the Anashi at first. But now that I’ve seen what she can do...” He shook his head. “You were right. She’s the key. If we can get her to the Tine before the invasion...”
“Yes,” Belosveka said. “But she’ll need guidance. Rilão is swarming with Tementeira.”
He nodded, leaning on her as they made their way down the hall. “I need to get there before they do.”
“There’s a caravan headed to Rilão this evening. I can smuggle you out. Adranaya will slow them down, so you should beat them there.”
Jovadão hissed through his teeth as a bolt of pain shot up his leg. “I could use some Healing myself,” he said. “Or a stiff drink.”
“I’ll find you some thorns,” Belosveka said. She seemed, as always, unflappable, but he knew her well enough to sense the worry below the surface, visible in her eyes and the way she pressed her lips together. Few people knew how hard he had worked to pull himself out of the abyss. Belosveka would never shame him for his cravings, but her compassion made him want to do better, as it always had.
“I’ll be okay,” he said softly. “I just need time.” She nodded, just once, and squeezed his shoulder. “After all these years,” he continued, “did you ever think it would come to this?”
The Dzharian smiled. “No. But it seems that the gods have a way of setting us afloat on the right stream.”
He nodded. He could only hope that the divine current of hers wouldn’t send them over a cliff.
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