Slaíne walked so close, they kept bumping into each other. Each muttered an apology, and continued forward, around trees, through bramble and briar, their arms brushing. “It don’t sound near as luxurious as I’d thought,” she admitted. “Mam and Papa was poor, but they overindulged me often.”
Aidan shook his head. “Oh, my parents made time for us.” He steadied Slaíne, who had stumbled into him, and then quickly released her and tried to put a distance between their steps. “And they were both always kind. It’s a wonder my uncle was my mother’s brother.” He pulled a face. “They were nothing alike.” He shuddered. “After they died, and my uncle took the title of steward, I was little more than a servant in my own home.”
“I’m sorry.”
He nodded. “It isn’t your fault.”
“I’m sorry all the same,” she said, and he could tell she meant it deeply.
Aidan cleared his throat. “Er, thank you.” The silence between them as they walked was tight as a fiddle string waiting to be plucked, but not in an unpleasant way. Whatever might have been troubling Slaíne seemed to no longer concern her. Before them lay perhaps leagues upon leagues yet to be traveled, and the miles behind them were fraught with troubles, but Aidan found himself buoyed for no reason apparent to him other than the company he kept. His fingers furled and unfurled, wanting to grasp something, but he was unsure of what. Finally he satisfied himself by clenching his fists and ignoring the ridiculous sensation, whatever it might be exactly.
Slaíne, he noticed, took covert peeks at him from the corner of her eye, and their steps continued to tangle into each other’s until they were near knocking the other over. They laughed the first time Aidan was knocked sideways into a tree, and Aidan apologized the first and second times when Slaíne stumbled off the path and into some weeds. He dismissed the missteps as clumsiness on his part, and then on hers, before realizing that he did not mind it at all and stopped trying to figure things out.
The air around them was charged. Aidan wondered if a storm might be approaching, but the skies were clear and sunny. The hairs on his arms were raised, as if there were some great danger looming, but not one that he was aware of. Unwittingly he shuddered, and Slaíne gave him an odd look.
“What’s wrong?”
How could he say if he did not know himself? Everything felt right. “Nothing’s wrong,” he assured her. He paused and swiped at his arms. “Though I think I might have walked through some spider’s work.” Indeed, he felt covered in the sticky mess, and wondered how Slaíne had managed to avoid it.
“Disgusting,” she offered in sympathy. Before he could stop her, Slaíne was brushing him off, trying to help free him from the webs.
After a moment, it was only her working, Aidan standing there like a great idiot who did not know what to do with his arms or mouth, the latter of which hung somewhat open, and the former of which dangled like two useless logs at his side.
Her hands were cold, though it did not bother him in the slightest. He could feel their iciness seeping through the thinness of his shirt, and wondered if he ought to be afraid, an irrational thought. More than anything, though, he wished he could kiss her…which was the last thing either of them needed.
Don’t make things so complicated, Salem whispered at the back of his mind.
Again Aidan shivered. Thanks for hitting me with the shovel, he thought back with as much sarcasm as he could muster.
Salem laughed. Just kiss her. Again. It’s not like you haven’t before.
Slaíne had stopped brushing him off and was now staring at him, her eyes wide. She took a few steps backward. “What?”
Aidan shook his head to rid himself of either the voice or the confusion, or perhaps both. He opened his mouth to answer, but was surprised to find himself propelled forward at an alarming pace.
Again Slaíne backed away, but still Aidan pursued. “What’re you up to?” she asked, a grin spreading across her face. “You look so serious-like.”
It had taken him a moment, but now Aidan realized that it was Salem’s power moving him forward, and he wrestled for control over his own mind and movements. Prevailing with a soft oath, Aidan came to an abrupt stop. He muttered a confused apology.
Far from being offended, Slaíne’s grin widened into something wicked and she started toward him, her intentions clear. “What?”
He needed to stop her, to throw cold water on the whole situation. Why, oh why, did he remain mute? Perhaps he should mention her curse…or maybe Meraude. Either of those would do to put a stop to this madness.
Idiot, Salem said at the back of his mind, before his presence faded away.
Now, with the indweller gone, Aidan had no excuse for his thoughts and movements. The two travelers came at each other as if to battle, expressions set in grim determination as first she grabbed him and then he her, neither’s strength to be outrivaled by the other’s. Whether he swept her up or she leapt into his arms, it was uncertain, but the result was the same. The kiss was just as violent, two affection-starved people clashing against each other in a rough attempt to feel something. They fell over soon after, her astride him.
“Slaíne,” he said as she clawed at his chest.
She looked down at him, her brows knit and her eyes distant. There was little recognition in that look, just feral hunger.
His shirt tore in her hands, and finally he thought to stop her. Bewildered, Aidan took her wrists in his hands and rolled her off him and onto her back. Now he was astride her, and only then did she stop her clawing. It occurred to him for a brief moment that something was wrong, but he almost at once ceased caring.
The girl lay still and watched him, her expression inscrutable. “Someday,” she whispered, yesteryear’s leaves crackling beneath her soft form as Aidan leaned down and kissed her hair.
He kissed the tip of her small nose, her brow, her closed eyelids. Every part of him felt vivid, as if it had not until moments before been awake.
Slaíne took one of his callused hands in one of her own and then kissed it. “Someday your heart will be mine, Aidan.”
It’s yours now, he wanted to murmur. Only he didn’t, because she deserved nothing so wretched. Instead he said, “What do you want?”
She grinned and pushed him off her. “Ter be able to walk without you runnin’ me off the way.” Then she laughed wickedly and leapt to her feet. She helped Aidan to his feet, and he felt that he had never before beheld any creature so beautiful.
Chapter Eight
Jinn
The world was dark and wearisome, and Jinn foresaw that she and Quick were heading into a trap. It had been one nightfall since she had last used her gift of Sight. Then the way had been clear. It was odd how one decision could alter the course and its consequences.
“Dark,” Quick said. As if to confirm his opinion, her twin shaded his eyes and gazed at the overcast sky. He nodded once then glanced at Jinn, his look of expectation barely readable. When she did not respond, he reiterated his stance: “Very dark.”
Jinn flashed her teeth in a reassuring grin. “Yes, it is dark. Why don’t we stop for the night and make a fire?” She shuddered against the brute north wind. “I need to stop and amend our plan.”
Quick nodded. “Fire. Make fire.” He grunted but did not move. “You foresaw again?”
“Yes.”
He sighed and started toward an oak tree. “You foresaw the trap?”
“You foresaw it too?” Foresight wasn’t her brother’s strength; he shouldn’t be peering more than a few minutes ahead.
Quick chuckled. “Sister worries. Always worries for Quick.” He reached up for the lowest branch and snapped it clean off from the trunk. The great crack mimicked a shot of thunder, and Jinn had to cover her ears. Obviously pleased, Quick held the branch up for Jinn to inspect. “This good?”
“Yes, that should make enough l
ogs for the night.” She breathed into her hands and rubbed them together with vigor. “I’ll gather some tinder.” But before Jinn could make it five steps into the surrounding woods, a vision overtook her.
It was the burning season, but the day and month were uncertain.
The Summoner lay amid a growth of creeping wintersnaps, in shock apparently. His redheaded traveling companion stared through Jinn to a road marker pointing toward Egethberem, a little too far north for Jinn’s liking.
“Not go far, right?”
Jinn jumped as Quick crashed through the overprint of the vision, which dissipated into a mist before her eyes. “Of course.” Absently, she tightened her belt a notch and entered the darkness surrounding.
As she gathered what they needed by touch, praying all she grabbed was benign, Jinn remained on high alert and moved swiftly. Was this a necessary risk, setting up camp and chancing a fire now? Jinn closed her eyes and tried to foresee all possible outcomes of the evening as she did every night before they lay down to sleep in a hollow or tied themselves to high branches out of the reach of hungry goblins.
The first vision, the one that showed her returning to Quick immediately with what she had gathered, would result in her brother startling and crying out like an injured bull. Jinn followed that vision further, careful to continue down that course of thought without wavering from it in her intentions. The cry itself would do nothing, but Quick would drop half of the branch on Jinn’s foot. She winced at the phantom pain, and at once changed the course of events in her mind.
The second vision, one where Jinn gathered more tinder, appeared harmless at first. She followed the course of events even as she gathered more brush in real time. Jinn stopped her actions, however, when the vision showed her disturbing a rat in its nest and receiving a smart bite on her wrist. No more collecting, then.
The third vision, and the one she followed to near completion, was of her standing still in the dark, waiting for a loud thump and following it back to where she’d left Quick. There her brother would have begun separating the branch into pieces, and would soon be ready for the magnesium, flint, and machete. All seemed well, so when the foretold thud startled the night, Jinn didn’t think twice about returning to her brother.
As foreseen, Quick made fast work of the branch, dividing it into sections and then dividing those sections down further. Each break of the wood caused so much racket that Jinn jumped and swore that the entire kingdom could hear.
Quick chuckled as he finished. “Worry.”
She shook her head and told him to be quiet for a moment. If anyone were within two miles, they would be able to follow the noise to its source. It was a still night, a clear and cold night. The fire would draw humans, elves, nymphs, or any other warmth-loving creatures to their encampment, and they could be ambushed in their sleep.
When Jinn closed her eyes again to foresee, Quick rested his large hand on her shoulder, weighting her down. “You can’t foresee all.”
“No. But I can try.”
Quick cleared his throat. “Where is he?”
“The Summoner?” Jinn let out a huff. “There are…holes in my vision.”
Making a face, Quick held his hands apart to indicate size. “How big?”
She resisted the urge to laugh. There was nothing amusing about losing the man Mother had sent them after. “No, Quick. It’s like – it’s like someone or something is interrupting my foresight.”
He waited for more.
Jinn shrugged and began building the fire, consequences if not forgotten, then at least ignored. “None of the Goblets grant people the power to cloak themselves like that. Besides,” she said after a moment, “there’s no possibility that the Summoner knows we’re looking for him.” Jinn frowned at Quick’s laugh.
“Mother thinks all are stupid.”
“True. She underestimates us, even. Lights above, I’ve dropped the flint. Can you find it?”
Quick got on his hands and knees and started rummaging in the dark, and that was when Jinn heard the first cackle. Quick froze as Jinn grabbed his arm.
“What?” he murmured.
Jinn closed her eyes and looked two minutes into the future, and then six. Five hags would reach their camp within that time, no doubt drawn by the noise Quick had made. Jinn found and pocketed the flint, hoisted her sack over her shoulders and made sure that Quick was doing the same.
There was no time to hide the evidence of their presence. The hags would arrive from the southwest just off the hidden footpath they’d taken from the main road, and would sight them far before then. Jinn did not believe in coincidence; they were being followed. As they fled into the night, Jinn wondered if this was connected to the trap she’d foreseen them springing.
Branches reached out to snatch at Jinn like so many hands, snagging and snapping as she and Quick upset a roost of fire snakes. Quick yelped. “Bites you.”
Indeed, a fang pierced her left heel through her boot, drawing blood. Jinn felt warmth blossom at the spot, and her legs nearly gave way beneath her. Another cackle filled the night, this time closer. Trembling, Jinn grabbed on to Quick, who lifted her and stood stock-still, awaiting orders.
“Hide,” Jinn said. “Quietly.”
Quick grunted once, ignoring the glowing orange beasts that snapped at his thick heels, and carried Jinn behind a large bush. “Here good?”
It would have to do. They hadn’t made it far, and Jinn could hear the evil creatures gathering at their attempted camp. Lightheaded, she stilled her breaths as Quick lowered her to the ground and then hunched down beside her.
“Nicely done, my sisters,” said an ancient voice in the distance.
“Finders keepers.” Another cackle turned into a shriek. “Four!”
“I see it,” said the oldest-sounding voice. “We’re almost upon them.”
Jinn’s wound had begun to burn, but she bit down the scream building up in the back of her throat. She had to keep a clear head. There was no time for pain; Jinn would have to think around it. But the snake’s venom pulsed up her ankle, her calf, shot up her leg and circled in her abdomen, threatening to make her sick to her stomach. Nothing. All that Jinn could foresee ended in a dark, sleepless dream.
Quick shook her with what he might have thought was gentle care, but it dizzied Jinn and made the world spin. “Help. You need help.”
This was not the time to need help, with the hags so near. And yet…. “Quick, do you trust me?”
Her twin sighed. “You think Quick doesn’t?”
Jinn ignored that. “Pick me up and let’s go back.”
The hags were suspiciously quiet, but Jinn wouldn’t worry about that. Yet.
Quick had hesitated. “Go back? You want to die?” If it weren’t Quick, Jinn would have called his statement an attempt at sarcasm. “I don’t want to.”
“Hags have magic, and I need their help. No one’s going to die,” Jinn gritted out just as a flash of red light was cast around them like a net.
“I wouldn’t depend upon it, Blest one,” said a hideous, warty hag tinged in a green glow.
“Please, I seek a truce!” The net of light they had been snared in did not dissipate, but as the hags did not attack further, Jinn grew hopeful that they would honor her request. She tried to focus her eyes on the elf who had spoken. “I beseech thee, O Wise Ones, salve for my snakebite, and safe passage from these woods.”
Silence reigned for a moment, before all five burst out laughing. “‘Wise Ones’ the mortal calls us.”
“And she wants a truce,” said the short one. “Thinks she’s entitled to live.”
“And wants a salve.”
“Dinnae ye ken, lassie? Everything cometh with a price.”
They all spoke so quickly and with such ferocity, Jinn doubted she would have followed easily even without the venom-haze addling her brain.
“My brother and I—”
“Which are you?” one of the five cut her off, moving in closer, no doubt to have a better look at their catch. “You smell…familiar. Yet not familiar look.”
Jinn would have squirmed away, but knew she would be unconscious in minutes. It was amazing she’d lasted this long. “Quick? Could you answer their questions?”
Quick proved to be of no help. He was trying to pull the snare away, only succeeding in tangling himself up further. “Won’t break,” he said. “Slippery magic.”
“Hmm. She might do.”
“Not she,” said another. “Too small.”
“Too…foreign.”
The five mumbled in agreement.
“I can pay you for your help.” Jinn gave Quick a weak nudge. “Brother, the pouch.”
“We dinnae want your mortal gold, youngling,” said the tallest hag. She reached through the net and grabbed Jinn’s foot in her warty hand, tsk-tsking as she none-too-gently twisted it this way and that. “Fire vipers. You’ll be dead in minutes.”
“’Twould be dead already.”
“Aye, if’n not for bein’ Blest.”
Jinn did not like the way the five were stealing covert looks at her brother and nudging each other. “Please, we would like—”
The net vanished, and four of the five hags started cursing at the fattest one. “What’n you done that for?”
The fat one picked Jinn up and flung her over her shoulder like an empty sack. “Come, sisters. She ain’t goin’ anywhere like this, an’ he’s dog enough to follow.”
Paralyzed from the waist down and her arms quickly following, Jinn could do nothing but croak in protest as she was carried back to the mound of logs. “S-stop.”
“How goodly of the creatures. They’ve what’s gathered wood for us.”
One of the others cackled. “Come along, my lad. Your twin hath need of you.”
Quick grunted and followed after them, though Jinn wanted to shout at him not to; she had suspicions as to what they planned. “Put down sister.”
“All in good time. One, you’ve the salve?”
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