Daughter of Witches

by Patricia C. Wrede

  “Sit and smile, my dear. Do you understand? Or I will hurt you, like this.”

  A knifing pain in her arm penetrated the haze surrounding her. She cried out. The pain stopped. She whimpered and rubbed her arm. Gadrath’s face thrust itself close to hers. “Do as I say, my dear. Sit and smile. It is really very easy.”

  Still confused, but too frightened to antagonize him further, Ranira nodded.

  “Good,” said the priest. “This way, my dear.”

  Just then she caught sight of the three foreigners. Mist, Jaren, and… and Arelnath. She was very pleased with herself for remembering their names. They were standing in a group at one side of the courtyard, surrounded by guards. She wanted to wave, but Gadrath was holding her arm. Then she remembered—she was supposed to sit and smile, not wave. But there was nowhere to sit. She frowned. There was something she wanted to remember.

  Gadrath stopped, ending Ranira’s speculations. “You will sit here, my dear. Sit and smile. Remember.”

  Ranira was barely listening. Her eyes were on the huge open carriage drawing up in front of her. It was gold, with three black horses and three white ones harnessed in front. A tall throne of carved gold rose from the seat at the back. It was even larger than the High Priest’s conveyance standing just in front of the courtyard gates. Why, she would be sitting above everyone. She would be able to see everything!

  A rattling noise at the rear of the carriage distracted her, and she glanced back to see Mist and her companions being chained to the rear of the carriage. How nice! she thought. They will be close by. But she couldn’t remember why it would be nice.

  Temple guards lifted her into the carriage. A priest arrived, muttering, and spread her heavy skirts over the cushions of the throne. She sat and smiled. Her head was beginning to ache, and the courtyard swam before her eyes, but she smiled; Gadrath was watching. The iron gates ahead swung open, and Templemen began marching out of the courtyard. It seemed to take a very long time.

  A small man in black climbed onto the driver’s platform at the front of the carriage. He raised his whip and made a chuckling noise. The carriage moved forward. She smiled. They were through the iron gates and into the streets of Drinn. A blurred sea of faces surrounded the carriage, shouting and cheering. Ranira still could not think, and she was beginning to be annoyed by the way her mind was wandering. She could not remember why she was here, and somehow she was sure it was important.

  The procession approached the river. In spite of the Temple guards striving to clear a way for the carriages, the bridge was crowded. Progress slowed to a crawl, then stopped altogether. Ranira heard angry shouts and curses from the Templemen. The horses pranced nervously, and her driver whistled softly through his teeth as his fingers worked the reins.

  The carriage inched onto the bridge, its sides so close to the edge that Ranira could easily have stepped from her seat onto the guard wall. She looked curiously down at the river, already swollen with the early winter rains.

  Suddenly, one of the horses reared and plunged forward. Its companion shied, and in another instant all six of the horses were bucking and rearing in a tangle of harness. Guards ran forward, pushing past the screaming pilgrims. The throne lurched sickeningly; Ranira grabbed at the side to keep from failing.

  The carved metal cut into her hands. Fear and pain cleared away the drug haze for a moment, and all at once she saw a way out of the trap Gadrath had closed around her. She stood up in the carriage, bracing herself with one hand. Seeing her, the crowd quieted briefly, and she shouted as loudly as she could, “Chaldon’s curse on you, Gadrath, and my deathwish as well!” Before the reaching hands could grab her, she turned. Calmly, as if she were alighting from the carriage, she took one step out onto the thick stone rail. And then another.

  The water was cold, dark, and dirty. Ranira’s wide skirt trapped enough air to keep her afloat, but she knew it would not last long. The current had already swept her under the bridge. She caught at one of the supporting pillars, trying to keep herself out of sight until the water could soak her gown and drag her safely down, away from Gadrath and the Temple of Chaldon and the god. Her nails scrabbled on the rough stone surface, then found a hold.

  She felt the weight begin pulling at her, but her pain-induced clarity of thought was fading; the drug was reasserting its hold. Her fingers relaxed, and she felt them slide on the wet stone. Dreamily, she saw the pillar gliding sideways across her line of vision. Suddenly there were hands on her shoulders, pulling. She struggled weakly, but the effort only made it easier for her to be dragged to the shore. Stones scraped beneath her feet; she felt only a dim regret that she had failed to escape. She stumbled onto the narrow bank below the end of the bridge.

  “Come on, Renra!” whispered a voice. “We got to get out of here!”

  “Shandy!” She ought to be surprised, she thought. No, she was under the bridge, and Shandy always watched the parade from under the bridge. What was she doing under the bridge? She could not remember.

  Ranira could hear shouts above her, but they seemed distant and meaningless. She looked at Shandy and smiled. “You didn’t get caught,” she said.

  “Renra!” The boy was tugging at her. “The Temple guards will be here in a minute. Hurry up! Do you want them to catch us?”

  The urgency in Shandy’s voice penetrated at last. Ranira rose. The wet gown dragged at her legs like an iron weight. She plucked at it ineffectively. “I can’t…”

  “This way.” Shandy slipped away. Ranira followed. Her heavy skirts seemed to catch at the stone supports of the bridge, clinging and holding her back. Dark water lapped inches from her feet, and her slippers did not grip the narrow, wet stone ledge. She was panting when she caught up with Shandy, though they were barely three body-lengths from the place where she had reached the bank.

  “In here, Renra. You go first,” he whispered. He pointed to a rounded opening just above the water. Reddish-green liquid oozed sluggishly out of it, staining the stone below. Ranira shook her head, but the drug left her no will to resist. “Go on!” Shandy urged, and she obediently dropped to her knees and crawled into the hole.

  Darkness wrapped around her like a cloak. Her skirts caught on something. She pulled and felt the fabric tear. The tunnel floor was wet and slippery; her hand landed on something soft and slimy that wriggled. With a cry, she jerked back, and her head slammed against the top of the tunnel. Dizzy and frightened, she stayed motionless, waiting for the sick feeling to go away. Something touched her foot and she whimpered; it was the only remaining effort she was capable of.

  “Go on, Renra. It isn’t far,” came a whisper from behind her. Fuzzily, she recognized Shandy’s voice. With a sigh, she started forward again. Maybe he wouldn’t make her do anything else when she got to the end. Perhaps she should have stayed in the carriage. It wasn’t wet or cold or dark, and Gadrath only wanted her to sit and smile. No, she didn’t like Gadrath, and there was a reason why she hadn’t stayed. She couldn’t remember it just now, but she would. Now she had to keep crawling.

  Ranira crawled. The tunnel narrowed, the floor rose, and she was forced to creep along almost on her stomach. The embroidered gown was long since in rags. She would have stopped if it had not been for the insistent shoves from behind. Suddenly there was a little light in front of her—a stone in the roof of the tunnel had cracked. A few feet further she came to another, then three stones in a row with pieces broken out of them. Then the tunnel was a shallow trench half-filled with broken rocks. She sat up, blinking in the sunlight.

  Beside her, Shandy wriggled out of a dark space between two stones and grinned at her. “I told you I didn’t have to worry about Templemen, Renra. I bet they don’t even know the tunnel’s here. But we got to find someplace they won’t look for you, or they’ll catch you again, soon as they start hunting.”

  Dizziness overwhelmed Ranira as she tried to stand, and she put out a shaking hand to steady herself. From miles away she heard Shandy’s exclamation. “Renr
a! What’s the matter with you?”

  Ranira fought to think clearly. “They gave me some kind of drug,” she said hazily. “I don’t know how long it will last. I think someone said it could be permanent.” Memory swam up out of the shifting cloud that threatened to engulf her: silver light turning yellow, and a voice murmuring. “Mist. Did she get away?”

  “What?” Shandy looked confused, then began tugging at her hand determinedly. “Come on, Renra. We got to get out of here. You can tell me about the mist later.”

  “No!” She jerked back. “Mist is the foreign woman, the one in the short veil. She can heal; I saw her. Did she get away too? You have to find her, Shandy. She can heal.”

  “I told you those foreigners would be trouble. Why do you want to find a bunch of witches? This way. Duck your head; you’re too tall.”

  “They can heal! Will you find them?” Ranira asked, clinging desperately to her fading lucidity. “Mist and Jaren and Arelnath. Will you?”

  “All right,” Shandy said. “But not now. Come on, Renra!”

  Mental tension flowed out of her like a sigh. As she relaxed back into the drugged fog, she tried to murmur her thanks, but she could not even be certain she had spoken. Part of her was still aware of the awkward scrambling over broken pavement and the twisting route that Shandy followed, but most of her mind was in a pleasant stupor.

  Shandy was talking to her. He seemed to want a response. “Shandy?” she said tentatively.

  “Ah, Renra,” he said disgustedly, “You didn’t even hear. You have to climb over that wall. I’ll help. You understand?”

  She looked doubtfully at the high wall of crumbling bricks that stretched from one side of the alley to the other, but she nodded. Shandy pushed at her. “Go on!” Dutifully, Ranira stepped forward.

  Climbing the wall was almost as difficult as crawling through the tunnel had been. Though her skirts were now in rags, they still hampered her movement, and her thin slippers slid treacherously on the ancient brick. Twice she slipped back when one of her handholds broke free of the wall. At last she reached the top. She was too tired to climb down, and it looked like an uncomfortably long drop. She was still sitting there when Shandy popped up beside her.

  “You crazy? Anybody looks down this way, they’ll see you for sure. Get down, Renra!” The boy followed his own advice immediately, swinging down to the ground with the ease of long practice. She blinked at him for a moment, then slid her feet over the side of the wall.

  The drug was still distorting her perceptions; and she was not prepared for the wrenching drop from sitting atop the wall to hanging from her hands. She grabbed in panic as she realized her mistake. Her hands slid along the brick, scraping the skin painfully. She missed the hold she was reaching for and slipped from the top of the wall to land in a crumpled heap on the other side.

  Shandy was beside her immediately, wanting to know if she was all right. Ranira shifted and started to respond, but a stabbing pain in her right leg made her bite back a scream and shake her head instead. Shandy stood over her, frowning.

  “Can’t you walk, Renra? If you rest for a while? The Templemen don’t know about this place, but if they really start hunting…” The boy’s voice trailed off.

  Even drugged, Ranira knew what a full Temple search would mean. Again, she tried to move, and almost fainted. “No,” she whispered, biting her lip. “I can’t. You have to find Mist, Shandy. She can heal. She could do something.”

  “That witch you were talking about?” Shandy shook his head. “But the Temple will catch us right away if we use magic! And it’ll take all day just to find her. Those foreigners may not even have gotten away. And there are too many places to look. Are you sure you can’t walk?”

  “I can hardly move my leg at all,” Ranira said hazily. “Try, Shandy. You know where to look; you can find them. They got away. They’re hiding over by the old market. You have to find them.”

  “All right, Renra. I’ll go look,” Shandy said. “But I don’t like it.”

  Ranira sank back, relieved. She wanted to say more, to explain, but she had no energy left to do so. As she watched Shandy climb the wall once more, a wave of dizziness pulled her, unresisting, into darkness.

  Chapter 8

  SHE WOKE ALONE AND miserably uncomfortable. Her head ached, and her injured leg throbbed painfully. The ragged black gown, still damp with river water, clung with unpleasant coldness to her back and legs. The effects of the drug lingered on; she felt slow and stupid. She found herself staring intently at a broken piece of brick and could not remember why. Irritated, she forced herself to look around.

  She lay where she had fallen, at one side of a small, rectangular courtyard, barely a few feet wide. There were no exits; the two short ends of her shelter were blocked by the blank stone walls of buildings, and two brick walls ran unbroken from side to side between them.

  For a moment Ranira was puzzled. Then she laughed weakly. Years before, the Temple of Chaldon had decreed that all of the alleys in the city must be blocked at regular intervals so that fleeing thieves, witches, and other undesirables could not lose their pursuers in the narrow maze behind the buildings. Evidently someone at the Temple had made a mistake when the walls were positioned, and no one ever dared to question it. Erecting two walls in the same alley would be a small price to pay to escape the notice of the Eyes of Chaldon. Ranira wondered how many other such places there were in Drinn. Shandy would know, she was sure.

  The shadows of the walls crept closer. She began to wonder where Shandy was, but with the drug in her system she could not stay worried long. There were other effects as well—she felt cold, and her mind began to alternate between a fuzzy semi-consciousness and nightmarish hallucinations. Only when she shifted, trying to escape her dream-pursuers, did the pain in her leg bring her back to herself for a moment or two.

  Time ceased to have meaning. Ranira woke for perhaps the third or fourth time to find herself in darkness with her leg twisted painfully. A shadow moved beside her, and she stifled a scream. “It’s me, Renra,” came Shandy’s whisper. “And I found those foreigners.”

  The note of disapproval in his voice was unmistakable, but Ranira ignored it. “Mist?” she said, straining to see into the darkness.

  “No, little sister. Jaren,” another voice whispered. “I will take you to her. Can you stand?”

  “No,” she said. “I think my leg is broken.”

  “Then I will carry you.” Ranira felt arms around her, lifting. Then agony flared up her leg, and she fainted.

  She awoke with cool water streaming down her face. She was outside the walls, and Jaren was bending over her. Silver-green moonlight poured into the alley—Elewyth had risen, and though it was five days from being full, its light was bright. In the greenish glow she could see Shandy next to Jaren, holding a dipper. She leaned against a brick wall next to a pair of stone water jars.

  “I am sorry,” she said hazily. “Did I faint?”

  “You did,” Jaren replied. “I will be gentler this time, but I am afraid it won’t be easy. We must move quickly. There are Watchmen about, and this place is too open to linger.”

  As if to emphasize Jaren’s words, a robed figure appeared at the end of the alley, silhouetted in moonlight. Almost by reflex, Shandy melted into the shadows. Ranira shrank back, seeing her recent nightmares become reality. The Temple guard strode forward, peering into doorways and shadowed places. A hand caught Ranira, forcing her to remain motionless. It was Jaren, crouched tense and unmoving beside her.

  The Templeman moved slowly in their direction, sword in hand. He had not yet seen them hiding behind the water jars, but he was sure to do so if he came much closer. She held her breath, willing him to turn away. The guard hesitated and she felt a sudden surge of hope; then the Templeman shook his head and started forward again.

  When the guard reached the water jars, Jaren sprang. His leap carried him in one, graceful motion from his frozen crouch beside Ranira to a stance directly
in front of the Templeman. The startled guard opened his mouth to cry out, but it was already too late. Jaren’s right hand locked around the guard’s neck; his left grabbed the man’s sword arm and held it motionless.

  The guard’s left hand was still free, and he clawed at Jaren’s face. The foreigner twisted away without losing his hold. The Templeman tried again, but Jaren seemed to anticipate his every move. Finally, the guard abandoned his attempt to break the grip that was slowly strangling him. He reached instead for his dagger. Jaren’s knee came up as the weapon left its sheath, and the dagger went skittering across the stones. The battle continued in silence.

  The guard’s dagger lay just beyond Ranira’s reach. She bit her lip and began inching carefully forward with the vague idea of helping Jaren if she could reach the dagger in time. Pain brought tears to her eyes with each movement of her leg, but as long as the movements were small, the pain was not unbearable. It seemed to take hours to cross the small stretch of alley. Finally her hands closed around the dagger’s hilt. She looked up.

  The guard was still clawing at Jaren, but more weakly—he was evidently beginning to feel the lack of air. Ranira relaxed; Jaren needed no help from her. A scraping noise behind her made her jerk her head toward the mouth of the alley just as a new voice said, “What’s this?”

  A second Templeman stood silhouetted briefly at the mouth of the alley, his attention focused on the combatants. Ranira’s hands closed around the dagger as he stepped swiftly forward. Jaren and his opponent were too intent on their own struggle to show any sign that they had noticed the new arrival, though they must have heard his voice. The newcomer drew his sword. Ranira caught her breath. He was too far away for her to reach him.

  Suddenly the shadows behind the Temple guard shifted. Something long and round flashed in the moonlight as it came down on the back of the second guard’s head. He stumbled and fell to his knees immediately in front of Ranira. Her eyes widened as he took in the unmistakable garments she wore, and he opened his mouth to shout. Without thinking, Ranira leaned forward and, with all her strength, drove the dagger into his chest.