“You not alone, Arlen. I’m here.”
He sucked in a breath, twisting to look at me with a mix of emotions on his face. I couldn’t pick them all out, but he looked hopeful, his voice barely a whisper when he said, “You really aren’t like the rumors said, are you?”
I didn’t want to lie to him, but I didn’t feel I had the words to explain it properly. I urged Ghaevek closer to Uttin, asking for his help in explaining it for me.
“He is asking about the rumors about us.”
Uttin sighed, a tightness appearing around his eyes as he explained in the common tongue, “Most clans are good. Some… aren’t. We do not interact with them much, and they weren’t invited to Al Nuzem, but not all of our people are good. The rumors come from somewhere.”
Arlen frowned at him, leaning a little harder against my chest like he needed the comfort. I gave it to him, giving him a gentle squeeze to remind him that he was safe. “How would I know the difference?”
Uttin tapped his chest. “Tattoos. Each clan is different.”
Arlen looked between the two of us, and I obliged by untying my tunic to show him the tattoos on my chest. Right over my heart was the symbol of my clan, a talvok with wings spread wide. Uttin showed his chest as well, the ulvor on his chest with its head thrown back in a howl. The designs were similar enough thanks to the art style being passed down through our peoplethat most townsfolk probably wouldn’t notice it, but anyone of the clan would know the difference right away.
“Do all clan members get those? Even women?” he asked, a worried frown on his face.
I snorted, shaking my head, and Uttin explained it more clearly. “No. The tattoos are given to a warrior when he comes of age and proves himself to his clan. Bondmates do not have tattoos unless they request them.”
I’d seen some women with the tattoos, though it was rare. They were treated no differently than the males of a clan, and if they wanted the tattoos, they had to prove themselves in their skill of choice. I met a great huntress of Clan Halleik just recently who had the tattoos, matching her bondmate who taught her his trade. She teased him that she was better at hunting than he was, and a few of my clan challenged them to a friendly competition to prove who was the best. She won.
Arlen slumped a little, letting out a relieved sigh. “Oh good. I don’t think I’d like getting tattoos.”
Uttin hummed, nodding. “Simon felt the same way. He earned his place in our clan after saving two of its members during an attack but chose not to get the tattoos because he didn’t want to mar his skin. I believe Feigrind was relieved. He prefers Simon unblemished.”
That didn’t surprise me. Simon was a pretty male. His bondmate being protective of that wasn’t unusual.
We turned a bend, and the next town came into view, the gates open as far as I could tell and carts moving in and out like usual. I glanced at Uttin, speaking in our tongue. “This one doesn’t look like it will be troublesome.”
He shook his head, his expression relaxed. “It won’t. The Ilvos clan and this town trade regularly. The mayor’s daughter is part of their clan and—” He cut himself off with a frown. Ifollowed his gaze to a cloud of dust headed in our direction, what looked like a single rider coming our way. “Who is that?”
“Looks like someone from the Ilvos Clan,” Dras said, moving closer. “Do you want me to meet them and find out for what reason they approach?”
Uttin nodded, and I watched as my brother took off to meet the rider halfway. There was no ill blood between us and the Ilvos Clan as far as I knew. They were one of the few who didn’t relocate when the clans moved to Al Nuzem, and still lived in the area, but they were alerted of our mission. They should have known we were coming.
When Dras came back, he didn’t look upset or angry. He looked relieved.
“What did he say?”
“Those who wished to leave are with the Ilvos clan,” he reported. “They heard of our approach and sought out the Ilvos for protection until they could be moved. There are four, all prepared to leave now. There is no need for us to go to the town itself.”
Arlen watched the conversation with a slight furrow between his brow. He didn’t speak our language and didn’t understand, so I did my best to translate for him. “Those wanting leaving are with Ilvos clan. No need go to town.”
“Oh. Well, that’s convenient,” he breathed, then frowned. “The Ilvos aren’t one of the bad clans, are they?”
Dras shook his head, moving back to his place on the other side of the wagon. “No. A little aloof, but not bad. The rider said their clan leader welcomes us to rest with them for the night.”
“Truly? Even after what happened with Ambrose and Godr?” Feigrind asked from where he and Simon rode together in the back of the caravan.
Uttin pressed his lips together, his face a mask of suspicion despite his words. “It has been many seasons since then. It should be fine.”
I wasn’t aware of the situation they spoke of, but I would remain alert. If the Ilvos had bad blood with the Northern Clan, they could cause trouble in retribution. I would need to keep an eye on my charges. Especially Arlen.
ARLEN
The barbarians switched between their language and the common tongue so rapidly, it was hard to keep up with the conversation. After a while, I started to get a headache from the attempt and asked to go back to the wagon to rest. I got better sleep than I’d expected the night before, sleeping wrapped in Tyos’s arms was comforting in a way I’d never experienced before, but I was still tired, and the stress from the last week was getting to me now that I finally felt like I was somewhere safe.
Zakai was dozing in the wagon, his hands tucked behind his head. He truly looked like a prince without a care in the world with the way he lounged there, and when Tyos saw him sprawled out, he chuckled quietly, helping me swing off his horse and onto the wagon without stopping the procession to the new clan’s land. After he was sure I was stable, he moved back to his spot protecting the wagons, falling into conversation with the barbarians around him with an easy smile on his face.