Wayward Rose

4

Sabina found it difficult to enjoy much of the time she spent in the company of her handsome kidnapper. They knew the Enforcers had to be following stories of the human woman and the jackal traveling north on a giant black horse, and it left them in little mood to chat. At Populonium, a seaside mining town, Dalibor decided to seize an opportunity to shake their pursuers by taking the two of them out to the Island of Ilva just off the coast. The ferry out cost the last of their purloined money, leaving them no way back. That this did not seem to disturb Dalibor irritated Sabina. "We're trapped," she moaned. "You've trapped us here. There is no way for us to get off of this island."

"Of course there is," Dalibor said. "It's just water. You know how to swim, right?"

"Excuse me?" she asked. "That was two hours by boat, and you want to swim it?"

"Overnight, yes," Dalibor told her. "We'll steal a plank from that shipyard we saw and use that to support us on the way. The ferryman will tell them we came here, and they'll spend at least a day or two tearing this island apart, which will give us plenty of time to escape inland and disappear again." His nose twitched as he sniffed the air. "Are you feeling alright? Your smell is odd."

"My smell?" Sabina hissed. "My smell? Have you smelled yourself recently, dog breath? Neither of us has taken a real bath since crawling through the cloaca of New Rome, and you want to talk to me about my smell? And no, I'm not alright! The Enforcers are right on top of us, you've trapped us on an island, and want me to swim all the way back to the mainland. I am very much not alright."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," Dalibor said, shaking his head. "I know things look bad right now, but we're going to get out of this. You can trust me."

Things were bad, and the swim was worse, but she did trust him. And this time, blessedly, he hadn't been entirely right. One Enforcer had stayed behind, and he'd spotted them while they swam to shore. "I was so mad when Gallius made me stay here, but gods help me, the man was right," Ignius said as he squared off with Dalibor on the beach outside Populonium, their swords glinting in the light of the rising sun. Sabina had not known the new Azure striker long, but she'd been immediately enamored by his hair—long, auburn curls held back from his face by an armored headband that matched the loose tunic and braccae that were the hallmark garb of the Azure Hand's practitioners. "Come on over here, Princess. Don't want you getting hurt while I put down this dog."

This time, Sabina dutifully took her cue, and while Ignius continued to taunt Dalibor, she calmly drew her knife and stabbed him in the back. He screamed and dropped his sword, giving Dalibor an opening to drop his own sword, dart in, and grapple the striker to the ground. Sabina clutched her hands to her chest as the two of them wrestled on the beach, but soon Dalibor was on top with a painful hold of Ignius's arm. Then, with a twist, a pop, and a bloodcurdling scream, the fight was over.

Dalibor backed away from Ignius, who was still screaming on the ground, clutching at an arm that no longer fit correctly into his shoulder. The jackal sighed. "You brought this on yourself," he said.

"I am going to break every one of your fingers!" Ignius bellowed. "And that's just to start, you—"

Ignius did not get to finish his curse. With a windup and a hop, Dalibor punted the back of the striker's skull. Ignius went immediately silent and bounced a couple feet from where he'd been. While Dalibor caught his breath, Sabina swiped Ignius's surprisingly hefty purse and tossed his sword into the sea. Then they left him there, bleeding on the beach.

After that, the Enforcers seemed to lose track of them entirely. It afforded Sabina little opportunity to relax, however, since they spent the next three days walking up and down mountains as they hiked towards the central spine of Italia. On foot, since Dalibor had refused to go back into Populonium to reclaim their mare. Sabina spent the days too out of breath to even consider talking to Dalibor and nursing a cramping stomach that did not care for their foraged mountain diet. But the worst part was coming upon Old Roads that ran through the mountains and not being able to take them. More than once, Dalibor shook his head and headed straight up the mountain past a clear, empty, and enticingly flat road. Sabina could only grit her teeth and follow.

Once, though, they were not more than a dozen steps across the road before Dalibor stopped, sniffing the air. "I smell blood," he said, his muzzle tilted to the sky. Then he turned to face her, the tip of his nose still twitching. "Are you hurt? You smell like you're bleeding!"

"Me?" she asked. "I feel—" She snapped her mouth shut and felt her eyes grow wide. When had she last bled? It had been four weeks. She'd lost count. She hadn't even noticed the flow starting yet. The stomach cramps the past couple days must not have been from the unfamiliar wild foods at all. She stared at Dalibor far too long, her cheeks burning more and more. What should she say? What could she say? She wasn't at all prepared for this! She had nothing to tend to her flow, and they were in the middle of nowhere! The embarrassment was going to kill her if the Enforcers didn't.

A frown spread across Dalibor's muzzle as her silence stretched on, and she watched his ears and tail droop. "Oh," he said. "Oh. Oh, gods, Sara, I'm so sorry. I know better than to bring it up, it's just…" He grabbed his ears. "It smells different than I'm used to in Homines. Arbiter take me, I didn't plan for this at all. What kind of warlord am I? I'm so sorry."

"It's fine, Dalibor," she said. "I'd forgotten too."

"No, it's not fine," Dalibor said, hiding his face behind his arms while still clutching his ears. "I should have known better, I should have planned for it, and I shouldn't have brought it up." He shook his head and released his ears to look her in the eye. "It doesn't matter. Do you have rags?"

This was it. This was how she died. Talking to the handsome jackal who she'd begged to kidnap her about the cycle she'd forgotten and neglected to prepare for. If the Final Arbiter himself were to rise from the ground and drag her screaming into the Underworld, she would die happy knowing she had gotten to avoid this conversation. "No," she said, her voice tight in her closing throat.

"Well, I can fix that at least," he said. He dropped his pack, pulled out a tunic, and drew Tullus's sword.

"Dalibor, no!" Sabina said, trying to stop him. "Don't cut up your clothes for me!"

But it was too late. He sliced clean through the tunic and began shredding it further. "Don't worry," he said. "I won't miss this one. It's one I took from Tullus. No matter how many times I've washed it, it still smells like sewage and larceny, and I'm not entirely certain the sewage I smell came from the cloaca."

Sabina remained in an ill mood the rest of the day, and not even using her Sanguine Song arts to strip and rob a stray grape farmer who was unable to take "no" for an answer, even with Dalibor standing right there, cheered her up. She perked up two days later though. That was when, with her bleeding stopped and all her new rags washed and stored at the bottom of her pack, they came to a walled city by the side of another Old Road.

"We'll stop there for today," Dalibor said. "And we don't have to hide while we're in town."

"Praise the Matron," Sabina said. "I can't wait to sleep in a bed."

Though it no longer came close to filling the space within its pre-Astral walls, the city of Clusium still had a bustling market and plentiful lodging. It was the bathhouse that particularly excited Sabina, though. Specifically that it was a mixed gender bathhouse. Her initial thrill at being able to bathe alongside Dalibor quickly gave way to fury when she learned they didn't serve Sabwa. "It's fine, Sara," he told her. "I'll go find us a place to sleep tonight. And maybe a flea dip if I can. That's better for me than a Homin bath anyway."

Sabina sulked through the entire bathing process, oiling, sauna, cold bath, and all. But it felt remarkable. She'd missed being clean so much. On her way out, she made sure to purchase several vials of anointing oil using the grape farmer's money. The oil was scented with the roses of New Rome, and it calmed her to have a bit of the home she couldn't return to with her still.

They left Clusium the next morning, Sabina smelling of roses and Dalibor of citrons. They both rode on new horses laden with fresh food and supplies, all paid for with Ignius's purse. Dalibor had let her pick out her own mount, a lovely brown mare with a black mane that she called Ebonmane. Dalibor helped her learn how to ride and guide the horse on her own, and not quite two weeks later they finally passed into Aquitania without fanfare.

"I feel like we should celebrate," Sabina said.

"We've still got several days to go," Dalibor said, scowling at the sky. "We should make camp before the rain hits. I'd rather not spend another night cramped inside a tent that smells like wet dog."

"Me neither," Sabina grumbled. Despite her protests, Dalibor only slept inside their small tent with her when it rained, and no matter how much she wanted to lie close to him, it wasn't worth suffering through a night like that again. Even on evenings when he was still dry when they piled into the tent together, the midsummer nights were so hot that she had zero desire to cuddle up next to a bed partner covered in fur, no matter how soft he was. It wasn't fair.

Two days later, they stopped at a large, roadside inn that Dalibor called the House of Julius. It looked simultaneously ramshackle and modern, an ancient stone building that had been repeatedly added on to over who knew how many years. Lights burned within, and Sabina could see people eating and conversing on a pillared terrace. She even thought she could hear music, and she was certain she could smell food.

With their horses left with the stable hand—a timid, brown bull who couldn't look either of them in the eyes—Dalibor led Sabina into the main room of the inn. The first thing Sabina noticed was the smell of dinner. Something delicious and meaty was roasting back in the kitchen. The next thing was the music, something quick and bouncy played by a busty and underdressed cow on an ornate lute. She was accompanied by a dancing man playing the tambourine, and many of the other inn patrons danced on the floor before them.

Finally, smiling at the dancers, she noticed the people. Aquitania was part of her father's domain, but here, surrounded by the boisterous crowd of the House of Julius, Sabina began to realize that, no matter how much her father might wish otherwise, the New Roman Empire was home to far more than just humans. The House played host to nearly as many cattle as it did people, and looking around, Sabina managed to spot a handful of deer and bears. There was even a noisy lizard sitting in the corner and betting on dice with a rough-looking woman and a pair of black bulls. The princess had never, not once in her entire life, been so surrounded by so many of the beast people. Her father would never have allowed it. She could almost hear him even now. He'd tell her it was unsafe. That the beast peoples' only goal was to replace or eliminate humanity. That no matter how friendly or kind they seemed, the only thing they would want would either be to kill her or to force her to bear their beastly children. She didn't really believe him, but still she felt her nerves beginning to tense. There were so many of them.

Dalibor noticed her hesitating at the door and took her by the hand. She gasped at his touch. The fur between the calloused pads of his clawed hand was so soft. He smiled at her, his tail wagging behind him, and the room seemed much brighter. "Come on," he said. "You're safe. I won't let anybody hurt you."

She trusted him, and he was right again. They found a table to themselves on the terrace and dined on roast chicken, fresh bread, and baked greens with the best wine Sabina had tasted since they'd fled from New Rome. Eventually, after the sun had set, the host led them to their room. It was in one of the more recent additions and, though on the small side, nicely furnished and home to a lavishly large bed. Dalibor insisted on letting her have the bed to herself and spent the night drowsing in a chair beside the door, Tullus's sword in his lap. Sabina slept restlessly at best. The bed was fully big enough for both of them. He should have been next to her, not across the room.

Late the next evening, they began the ascent of the last mountain of their trip. Sabina could barely sit still enough to guide her horse. She was finally going to see where he lived. See if he'd actually been telling the truth all along about being a goat rancher with his father. Relax and laugh with him like a normal person. Maybe even live with him.

"What's that tune you're humming?" Dalibor asked.

Sabina blinked. "Sorry, was I humming?" she said. "I wasn't paying attention. I tend to hum when I'm excited."

"You were," Dalibor said with a chuckle. "I was mostly curious how you learned that tune. It sounded Draigic."

"Oh, it was, actually," Sabina said, remembering the tune. "I learned it from a lizard diplomat or merchant prince or something who visited the villa a few years back. He called it The Ballad of the Butcher. He played it on an instrument he called a fiddle. I'd never seen one before."

"Interesting," Dalibor said. "Not the fiddle bit. The Draig love their fiddles. I've just never heard that tune with The Ballad of the Butcher. It sounded like it was in the common meter, though, so I guess it fits. Could you hum it again?"

She sang the ballad for him, with the words this time, and he stayed quiet for the entire performance. "That was much grimmer than the versions I've heard before," he told her after. "I've never heard of the Butcher getting away in the end."

"Is it wrong?" she asked him. "I asked one of my father's troubadours teach it to me after I heard the tune from the lizard. He was really cagey about it, like he didn't want my father to hear him performing it for me. He just wrote out a copy of the words and gave it to me instead."

"It's not wrong," Dalibor said. "Just different. Normally the wronged father rescues his daughter and the other kidnapped women before killing the Butcher. Your version is more ghost story than heroic ballad. That might mean it's closer to the actual true story it's supposed to be based off of. You know, before the bards got their hands on it. I like it." The compliment warmed Sabina's heart the entire rest of the way up the mountain.

Before long, the ranch itself came into sight. A small stream ran along the eastern side, and a thick tree line marked the southern edge. The house was simple, a timber and stone construction in a style that was foreign to the princess. The barns were much larger and more elaborate, though the goats and cows and chickens wandering the open field at the heart of the ranch did not give any indication that they knew how stately their accommodations were.

"That's Papa," Dalibor said, pointing at an old brown bear, graying about the muzzle and dressed in an undyed tunic. He seemed to be talking to a goat in the middle of the pasture and hadn't noticed them yet.

"Your father's Ursi?" Sabina asked, hopping down from Ebonmane.

"Yes," Dalibor said. "My mother was Sabwan. Papa's name is Radomir. He goes by Rasha, but maybe stick to Radomir until he warms up to you." Dalibor ran his hands over his ears and took several deep breaths. "Okay. Let me do the talking."

Sabina shrugged. "Fine," she said.

"Thank you," Dalibor said. Then he took another deep breath before calling to the bear. "Papa! I'm back!"

Radomir spun towards them with a smile on his face that only grew wider when he saw Sabina. "Dalya!" he cried, lumbering across the pasture to them. The goat he'd been talking to followed at his heels. "I am so glad to see you, my son! But who is your friend?" Sabina was surprised at how well Radomir spoke the Language. She'd been taught that the bears were barbarians from the Northern Islands that refused to wear clothes and spoke only Ursi. But, as she'd begun to realize over the past couple days, she'd been taught a lot of things that might not be entirely true.

Dalibor nodded. "I'll introduce you in a moment," he said. "First I have a problem I need your help with."

"Oh?" the bear asked. He smirked and waggled his eyebrows at Dalibor. "What sort of problem?"

"So, hypothetically speaking," Dalibor said, taking a deep breath. "What if I were to have… I mean, it's possible that I…" The jackal started to hyperventilate, and the bear's smile grew wider. "I may have…"

Sabina rolled her eyes and stepped forward, holding out a hand to Dalibor's father. "Hello, Radomir," she said. "My name is Sabina Augusta Poplicola."

Radomir took and kissed her hand. His broad, wet nose tickled. "It is good to meet you, Sabi—" The bear's voice caught abruptly, and Sabina continued to smile up at him. He turned to look at Dalibor, brows raised in a silent question.

Dalibor gulped, his ears flat and his tail curled between his legs. "I may have kidnapped the New Roman princess," he said in a choked voice.

Sabina could not entirely place the expression on Radomir's ursine face. She hadn't been aware of how difficult bestial expressions could be to read. She was going to have to work on that. Understanding Dalibor's moods had come so naturally to her once she spent some time with him, though that was helped by how expressive the jackal's ears and tail were. Radomir stared at Dalibor for a moment, then looked at Sabina, then back at Dalibor, and then at the goat that had followed him. After communing with the goat for a moment, he nodded once, turned away from them, and headed towards the house, muttering something in what must have been Ursi.

"Wouldn't wine be better for this occasion?" Dalibor called after him, voice wavering.

"No," said Radomir, still ambling away from them. "Wine is insufficient. This requires firewater." He shook a single finger in the air. "The strong firewater."

"What's firewater?" Sabina asked as Radomir entered the house.

Dalibor frowned at her in wide-eyed exasperation. "Poison," he said.

Her own eyes grew wide as she stared back at him. "He's going to kill himself?" she asked.

"No, it's not…" Dalibor sighed and rubbed his eyes. "It's a pine wine, but it's distilled the way other people purify water. You need to not drink it. Papa distills it himself, and it is far too strong for anybody who is not a three hundred libra bear."

"It would be rude to refuse my host if he offers me something," Sabina said. "Besides, I can handle a little bit of alcohol."

"Fine," Dalibor said with a groan. "But just one drink."

Radomir already had the firewater and a trio of small glasses set out on the table by the time she and Dalibor made it inside. The home was very cozy. The entire first floor was a single, large room whose ceiling was barely tall enough for Radomir to stand upright. A large stone hearth across the room from the entrance burned with a low flame, and beside it was a worn stone oven. A solid wooden dining table and rigid, upright chairs sat opposite the oven. To the right side of the room was a well-used cupboard and washing basin strewn with knives and bowls, and to the left were a trio of lounge sofas and a lower table littered with various hand-carved figures, dice, a pair of lutes, and what appeared to be stray pieces of women's undergarments. At the back of the room, stairs led up into the darkness.

"Come," Radomir said, pouring the firewater. "Drink with me." Sabina hadn't noticed until seeing the bear in the tight confines of the house how big he actually was. Radomir had to be over six feet tall, and Dalibor may have been rounding down when estimating his weight. It was difficult to tell for certain though, since he was even fluffier than the jackal. His thick, brown fur puffed out around the sleeves and neck of his straining tunic.

"We really shouldn't, Papa," Dalibor said. "The Emperor's Six are—"

"No," Radomir interrupted. "You will tell me this story, but first, we will drink." Dalibor sighed in frustration, but Sabina pushed past him, took one of the small glasses, and downed the tiny amount of alcohol in it. It tasted like nothing except fire, and it burned all the way to her stomach. She gasped and choked, and Radomir laughed and downed his own shot. "Good, is it not?" he asked.

"Oh yes," Sabina lied with a cough.

"Have another," Radomir said, refilling the shot glass. "The second is easier."

"Papa, no," Dalibor said, but his insistence on treating her like a child irritated Sabina enough that she downed the second glass as well. It still tasted like fire, but she did not choke as much.

"I like her, Dalya," Radomir said after matching her own shot with his own. Dalibor just sighed and rubbed his eyes. When the bear refilled his own glass, Sabina was relieved that he did not refill her own glass in turn.

Dalibor was not even halfway through his recounting of their weeks-long flight across Italia before Sabina realized that the jackal had, again, been absolutely, infuriatingly correct. She should not have had that second shot. She lounged on one of the sofas, gripping its woolen cover tightly so she did not slide off as the room spun lazily across every possible axis. She tried to count, and she thought Radomir was on his fifth shot. She had no idea how the bear was still upright. Dalibor had paused his recitation after the fourth shot to get some of yesterday's bread and a wheel of cheese for the three of them. Radomir tore into it, leaning close to Dalibor to make sure he caught every word. The jackal plucked idly at one of the lutes while he spoke. To Sabina's admittedly intoxicated ear, he was an accurate storyteller, if somewhat dry in the recounting, and an amazing lutist. Her blurry eyes could not begin to follow his dexterous fingers as they danced across the strings.

When Dalibor began the story of how they got their horses, though, she had to interrupt. "Is there somewhere I can relieve myself?" she asked.

"Latrine is at back," Rasha said, his voice slurred both by drink and a heavy Ursi accent. "Follow to house left. You will see."

Sabina glanced out the window. It was already getting dark. "Do you not have chamber pots?" she asked.

"Our sense of smell is much better than yours, Sara," Dalibor said, still plucking out a soaring and unfamiliar melody. He really was an excellent lutist. "It has to be outside."

Night had fallen fully by the time Dalibor was done, and after ten shots and his own trip to the latrine, Radomir was finally incapacitated. Sabina herself was just starting to feel steady again. Dalibor clutched his silent lute to his chest while he gazed at his father from his own sofa, watching the sleeping bear breathe slowly, in and out. After several moments of that, he glanced at Sabina. "I need to go tend the animals," he said. "We should have done it a while ago, but it still needs to be done. My room is upstairs on the right. You can sleep there tonight. If you can walk, that is."

"I can," Sabina said. "But I'd just as soon sleep here if that's alright."

Dalibor nodded. "I'll get you and Papa blankets before I head out then," he said. "Get some sleep. I'll try to be quiet when I come back." He pulled a pair of quilted wool blankets from a long chest under the stairs. One he handed to Sabina, and the other he draped over Radomir, making sure to cover the bear's wide, fuzzy feet.

"Dalibor?" Sabina asked. "Why does your father call you Dalya?"

Dalibor didn't look at her. He gazed instead into the sleeping bear's face, and for some reason, he looked almost sad. "It's a pet name," he said. "Only Papa uses it. Please call me Dalibor."

And then he was gone, stolen into the darkness, latching the door quietly behind him.

Sabina wrapped herself in the blanket and reclined on the sofa. The room was stable again, and she was left with only a pleasant warmness throughout her entire body. With only the low hearth fire to light the large room, it was difficult to make out anything at all. She could hear the frogs and crickets outside, hear Radomir's even breaths and the crackle of the fire inside, and hear her own heart's steady beat in her ears. They weren't safe. Dalibor's story hadn't been happy. The Enforcers could be on them any day now. But there, in the dark of the unfamiliar cabin, miles and miles from her own home, accompanied by two strange beast men who just might end up becoming her only family, she felt at peace.

She closed her eyes. The warmth beside her heart hummed gently, and for the first time in her life, it sang that she had found where she belonged.