Froi of the Exiles by Melina Marchetta

Author:Melina Marchetta [Marchetta, Melina]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: urn|isbn| 9781742534060
Publisher: e-penguin
Published: 2011-08-29T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

Tariq of Lascow was tall for a Charynite. And striking. Froi wasn’t expecting tall and striking. For some reason he wanted Quintana’s beloved Tariq to be short and ugly. The heir placed a hand against Quintana’s cheek tenderly and then led them down a dank corridor of stone, speckled with a substance that lit their path. They followed him into a large chamber, the floors and wall adorned with beautiful woven carpets of blues and gold and red. There were books and drawings and ochre sticks for writing scattered over the cot that lay on the ground. A mandolin sat in the corner. A small altar was in the centre of the room, built upon a piece of rock that extended from the ground. Carved into the rock were symbols Froi had seen in Gargarin’s books about the gods. Tariq of the Citavita worshipped Agora, the Charyn goddess of wisdom. A poet, a musician, a peacemaker. Froi wanted to hate him.

Tariq pushed the books and sketches from his cot and took Quintana’s hand. ‘Little cousin, speak. I beg of you,’ he said, as Quintana stared up at Froi. Tariq placed a blanket over her and she lay down.

‘Will you be here when I wake?’ she asked Froi, her voice broken.

‘Of course,’ he lied.

Quintana closed her eyes and turned to the wall.

Tariq stood and Froi saw tears in the eyes of the heir. And anger.

‘How was it that you didn’t get her out in time?’ he asked. ‘We’ve been waiting for weeks.’

‘I was careless,’ Froi said. ‘For that I’ll always be sorry.’

Tariq stared, but didn’t speak. Too much seemed to be going on in his mind and Froi wondered if the heir of Charyn had to count in his head to control his fury. Or was he just a good man who could walk a path through life without a bond?

‘Then forgive yourself now, for we do not need laments of guilt sounding through the air,’ Tariq finally said.

Froi took one last look at Quintana and fought the urge to reach out a hand to where her throat was red-raw.

‘I’ll take my leave,’ he said huskily, walking out of the chamber.

In the light-speckled tunnel, Tariq was on his heels.

‘Stay,’ the heir said. ‘Eat with us.’

It was not an order, but Froi found himself turning back because he realised he had nowhere left to go.

In an adjoining chamber, Tariq introduced Froi to his childhood nurse, a woman named Jurda, who was stunned to hear the story of the escape and rushed to where Quintana lay. Froi watched Quintana as she woke from a half-sleep with a hiss and a snarl. He stepped into the room, but Tariq held him back. ‘Jurda was my nurse in the palace. She is well-acquainted with Quintana’s … ways.’

Froi followed Tariq through the nooks and tunnels of the underground village-in-exile of Lascow. They passed women weaving, men working at a kiln. One chamber housed the cattle, another stored the grain. In the kitchen there was chaos and all things familiar.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.