Quintana of Charyn by Melina Marchetta Read Free Book Online Page B

gallows and married her in their underground home. And he gave up his life to keep the future mother of his child safe. It’s a love story, Dafar. Everyone wants to believe in one. And if we manage to keep Quintana of Charyn alive, do you know why the people will love her? Because the heir, Tariq of Lascow, loved her. The little King will mean even more to us.’
    Froi turned away. ‘I was never one for stories,’ he said, staring up at the frescoes.
    ‘Do you want me to tell you another one?’
    Froi didn’t respond. His eyes focused on the larger-than-life image of a warrior aiming a longbow on the wall of the cave. He searched the ceiling for whatever it was the marksman was aiming at. Simeon pointed to the image of a tree whose roots stretched across all corners, as if reading his thoughts. Painted onto the trunk was a decree pinned with a bronze arrow. It was the same word written three times in faint gold.
Hope. Hope. Hope.
    ‘I’ve never heard that story,’ Froi said softly. ‘About a warrior shooting messages of hope.’
    Simeon smiled ruefully. ‘Because it doesn’t exist.’ He pointed to his bedroll, which lay directly under the three words. ‘My grandson’s first work at the age of thirteen. He said I was a pessimist and he wanted me to stare up at it to remind me not to be. In the darkness, the gold letters are illuminated and all I can see are the words.’
    Charyn needed more men like Rothen, Froi thought.
    ‘Did you know it was Arjuro who first took you to Sarnak as a babe?’ Simeon asked.
    Froi was stunned to hear the words. He shook his head because he could hardly speak. There were so many secrets hidden inside Gargarin and Arjuro and he wondered if they would all ever be revealed.
    ‘Arjuro was a broken man on the night he escaped from the palace eighteen years ago. He said there was a darkness tainting his spirit and he had to make something right. It was his idea that we smuggle the abandoned babe out of the kingdom. He volunteered to be the one.’
    Simeon’s stern face softened. ‘You spent the first month of your life in the safety of his arms. I’ve seen you both together these past weeks and it is clear the ties that bind you are still strong.’
    The bond was strong because Arjuro was blood kin. Froi knew that more than anything else.
    ‘Arjuro returned from Sarnak and lived here with us. He was as wild as ever and full of rage at the world. At himself. Over the next few years we would hear news about you from the Priestess of the Sarnak godshouse. You were
Our Dafar
,’ he added. ‘If any of us ever experienced hardship, we would say, “At least Our Dafar is safe.”
    ‘But four years after we sent you to Sarnak, we received word that the godshouse of the Sarnak capital was destroyed by fire. All we knew at the time were the names of those who had perished. And that there was no child among the dead. So we sent a messenger to bring you home … but the messenger never reached Sarnak. Your fate was lost to us until Rafuel of Sebastabol sent word three years past that he believed he had found you in the woods on the Charyn–Osteria border.’
    ‘Rafuel was there?’ Froi asked. ‘In the barracks when I was taken by the Charynites?’
    Simeon nodded. ‘Rafuel ran away from his father and the palace when he was fourteen years old. When he returned to the Citavita years later to find out what he could about the lastborn, he was rounded up with a group of lads and put to use in the army. And as fate had it, Rafuel was at the right place at the right time. And here you are, Dafar of Abroi.’
    There was something about the way Simeon said his name this time that made Froi uneasy.
    ‘What do you want from me?’ Froi asked, because he knew he hadn’t been summoned to listen to Simeon’s stories.
    ‘Find us the girl.’
    The Priest’s eyes were ice-cold.
    ‘And then go back to being Froi of Lumatere. And no one need get hurt.’
    That night, Froi sat opposite Arjuro in