Daughter of Witches

by Patricia C. Wrede

  The guard choked. Ranira had a fleeting glimpse of utter astonishment on his face before he fell sideways, carrying the dagger with him. Shandy appeared behind the body still holding the water dipper. He swung it at the remaining guard, but the blow was unnecessary. The man was already collapsing.

  As the second guard fell, Jaren twisted the sword from his grasp and neatly cut the man’s throat, stepping a little to one side as he did so. Blood spurted briefly, then the Templeman pitched forward on his face. Beneath his head, a dark pool began to grow, glistening wetly in the moonlight.

  Jaren bent to the other corpse. He retrieved the dagger and wiped it on the Templeman’s robes, then turned and offered it to Ranira. She accepted it silently. Suddenly she found herself shaking, and she forced herself to look away from the bodies.

  When she recovered her composure enough to look again, Jaren was removing the sword belts from the two corpses. He donned one, settling it around his waist with a relieved sigh. He picked up the other, then hesitated. He drew the unused dagger and gestured at Shandy, but the boy shook his head. With a shrug, Jaren replaced the weapon and slung the entire belt over one shoulder. He looked at the bodies again and shook his head regretfully, then began dragging them to less conspicuous positions in the shadows.

  By the time Jaren turned back to her, Ranira was under control again. This time she was ready for the surge of pain as he lifted her. She did not faint, but the alley swam before her eyes as Jaren glided silently forward.

  Shandy led them cautiously through the streets and alleys of Drinn. Several times they had to stop, crouching behind water jars or flattened against doorways while groups of Templemen strode past. Jaren moved so smoothly that the sword belt dangling from his shoulder never scraped a wall or banged against the sword he wore.

  Well as she knew the city, Ranira was soon lost. She quickly stopped trying to remember the turnings and concentrated instead on remaining awake. Between exhaustion and pain, this was no easy task, and she was surprised and relieved when Jaren slid into an alley and knocked a curious rhythm on one of the doors.

  The door swung inward and closed hastily behind them as they entered. Inside, no hint of moonlight crept through any window slits. Ranira realized they must be in one of the abandoned buildings not yet claimed by the Temple of Chaldon. She could not see even a dim outline of the room, but she could feel Jaren moving surely forward, and she wondered how he could find his way through the blackness. She heard the click of another door latch opening; then they were descending a flight of stairs.

  A light shone below, dim and wavering. Ranira found herself looking down into a deserted wine cellar. Empty racks stood along the walls, dusty and broken. Pieces of glass and pottery littered the floor. Seated on a pile of warped and rotting boards on the far side of the room was Mist, carefully shielding a small candle stub from any draft. The foreign witch had discarded her short veil, and Ranira was shocked by the weariness that showed in every line of her face. Embarrassed, she hastily averted her eyes. Though she knew that few women went veiled outside the Empire of Chaldreth, the sight made her uncomfortable.

  Jaren set Ranira gently down on the floor. She glimpsed Shandy and Arelnath descending the stairs. Shandy’s eyes shifted nervously from side to side; Ranira suspected that the boy disliked hiding in a wine cellar with only one exit almost as much as he disapproved of the three non-Chalders. Arelnath moved to stand beside Ranira looking down at her.

  “I see the boy spoke truly,” she said. “How did you get out of the river? I did not really expect to see you again.” Her voice was cool.

  “Shandy pulled me out.” Ranira started to explain the details of her rescue. Halfway through, Jaren interrupted.

  “Tunnel?” he asked, looking at Shandy.

  Shandy was smug. “Sure. The Watchmen don’t care about it ’cause they’re too fat and lazy for it to do them any good. I got lots of good hiding spots like that.”

  “Shandy knows more about getting around Drinn than anyone,” Ranira said.

  Jaren nodded. “I can well believe it. I’ve seen what he can do.” He turned to the boy. “Would you be willing to assist us in getting out of Drinn? I don’t think we could find a better guide.”

  Shandy’s thin chest swelled with pride at Jaren’s words, but almost immediately his eyes narrowed. Ranira could see his suspicion of the foreigners warring with his desire to be rid of them. “Maybe.”

  Arelnath looked disapprovingly from Jaren to Shandy, but said nothing. Shandy glared back. There was a brief silence. “I brought something for you, Arelnath,” Jaren said then. He rose and unslung the extra sword belt from his shoulder. “Here, catch.”

  Arelnath’s face lit up as she saw the weapons, and she jumped forward and caught them easily. She buckled the belt in place, then drew the sword. She tested its edge against her thumb, then hefted it to check its weight. Finally, she stepped back and swung the weapon several times, as if feinting at some imaginary opponent. Then she repeated the entire process with the dagger.

  “Not the best weapons I’ve seen,” she said at last, “and not sharp enough, but better than none.”

  “I hadn’t checked.” Jaren drew his own sword. He flicked a fingernail against the side, producing a faint ringing. He shrugged. “It’ll do.”

  “Jaren, you’re too casual,” Arelnath said, shaking her head. Her frown returned, and she looked at him suspiciously. “Where did you come by them?”

  Jaren shrugged again. “A couple of Templemen who won’t need them anymore. Nowhere near here, though we may have spoiled one of Shandy’s better hiding places for a while.”

  “If they come from Templemen, I must examine them, Jaren. Give them to me, please,” Mist put in. The black-haired woman had risen and come slowly forward. Even her voice sounded tired. Jaren looked at her and raised both eyebrows almost to his hairline, but he unbuckled his sword belt and handed it to her without comment. The woman’s face went blank for a moment as she fingered the sword and sheath. Then she relaxed with a sigh.

  “Nothing,” she said in response to Jaren’s look of inquiry. She returned the belt and looked toward Arelnath. “Yours next.”

  The other woman had already unbuckled the belt, but she made no move to hand it to Mist. “You are tired already, and there is more work here that only you can do,” she said, glancing at Ranira. “Is this necessary? Is it wise to spend your strength so freely?”

  “I must,” Mist replied. “Our protections are thin enough now. They could not withstand any added strain, and I am not familiar with much of the magic the Temple uses. I must be sure they cannot trace us through the weapons Jaren has brought.”

  “The Temple doesn’t use magic,” Shandy objected. “Magic is forbidden.” He frowned at Arelnath, who ignored him and handed Mist her sword belt. The examination took longer this time, for there were two weapons for Mist to handle. Finally she relaxed and shook her head. “Nothing.”

  “I told you the Temple doesn’t use magic!” Shandy said triumphantly.

  Mist turned toward him. “Your Temple does use magic,” she said firmly. “I have felt it. I feel it now, and I must find its source or the priests will track us down once more. Please do not distract me again.”

  Arelnath seemed startled by Mist’s reaction, and Shandy squirmed uncomfortably. Jaren only smiled slightly and pointed to Ranira. “There is one more dagger,” he said.

  Mist nodded and walked to Ranira’s side. She stooped and reached for the dagger that Ranira held out. As her fingers touched the hilt, she gasped and lost her hold. The weapon fell to the floor between the two women. Jaren bent to retrieve it.

  “What have you found?” Arelnath demanded as Mist stepped back.

  “I do not know,” Mist replied. “There was not enough time. I will have to try again.” Reluctantly, she reached once more for the dagger. Her face was tight as her fingers brushed Jaren’s on the hilt. Then her expression relaxed into astonishment. She blinked; her face became remote. I
t was a long time before she shook her head and handed the dagger back to Jaren.

  “There is nothing here, either. How could I have been so mistaken?”

  “Then it wasn’t the dagger you felt,” Arelnath said. Her eyes were on Ranira as she spoke.

  “What do you mean? Why are you staring at me?” Ranira asked peevishly. Her head was aching again, and her mind felt suddenly fuzzy. She heard an exclamation from Jaren, but she couldn’t seem to focus her attention on what was happening. There was a flash of pain from her leg; then another. But her leg didn’t hurt like that unless she moved, and she wasn’t moving—was she?

  “The jewels!” someone said above her. “Smash them!”

  Ranira felt hands at her shoulders, ripping the jeweled lace away from her throat. As the jewels pulled away, it felt as if hooks were tearing her flesh, and she cried out in pain. She choked, unable to breathe. As she fought for air, Ranira heard Jaren’s voice cry faintly, “Mist! Look to her!”

  Ranira’s vision cleared for a moment. She saw Mist kneeling beside her while Jaren and Arelnath stamped the black crystal jewels into powder. Then Mist took her hands, and white fire ran through Ranira’s bones like lightning. She would have cried out again, but she had no breath left.

  As the fire grew stronger, Ranira felt something within her stir in answer to the storm of power and magic that poured through her body. Even as it did so, orange flames leaped before her eyes and she smelled the black smoke of old nightmares. Then she did scream. Dimly, she heard Mist’s cry, an echo of her own, but she was too stunned to respond to anything other than the flames that crept nearer and nearer.

  Abruptly, Mist’s hands let go their hold. The sensation of power flooding through her vanished, and with it the flickers of fire. Ranira looked around wildly for a moment, searching for the flames she knew she had seen—but there were none. A wave of dizziness swept over her. She closed her eyes against the sudden distortion of the room, grateful that the fire had been an illusion but too tired to wonder how or why it had occurred.

  Chapter 9

  THE DISORIENTATION LASTED ONLY a few moments, then subsided, leaving Ranira relaxed and once more aware of her surroundings. She opened her eyes at once and glanced quickly around as she sat up. Mist lay nearby, with Arelnath bending over her in concern. Shandy hovered near the foot of the stairs, watching suspiciously as Jaren scattered the fine black dust that was all that remained of Ranira’s jewels. As Ranira watched, the blond man finished his task, dusted his hands, and turned to look at her.

  “What happened?” she asked before he could say anything. She shifted to a more comfortable position, and suddenly realized that her leg no longer pained her. Her mind was clear as well. She looked toward Mist with a feeling of mingled curiosity and respect—tinged with suspicion. Jaren began to speak, and she jerked her wandering attention back to him.

  “You were acting strangely,” Jaren said. “The jewels on your gown started smoking. I ripped them off, and Arelnath and I smashed them while Mist did… whatever she did. You’ll have to ask her, if you wish to know more.”

  “The jewels?” Ranira said, staring. “I thought it was the drug that made me feel so strange.”

  Jaren shrugged. “I am not trained in magic. Ask Mist and Arelnath,” he repeated. He glanced toward the two women and frowned, then called something in a language unfamiliar to Ranira. Arelnath answered in the same tongue, and Jaren nodded. “Mist is waking now, if you wish to ask any questions.”

  His voice carried the length of the cellar easily, and Mist struggled to a sitting position. “We have no time for questions,” she said. “We must leave at once. The Temple will not take long to find us now.”

  “What? But your protective spells!” Jaren said. He was not objecting; even as he spoke, he stretched out a hand to help Ranira to her feet.

  “I could not hope to hide such a burst of power, even if the Temple could not trace the jewels,” Mist said. “We must go.”

  “At once,” Arelnath said, nodding. She rose and offered an arm to Mist, then bent to retrieve the candle stub. Mist started toward the stairs. Jaren and Ranira followed close behind.

  As they passed Shandy, the boy nodded in some satisfaction. “I told you magic was forbidden,” he said as he started up the stairs behind Ranira.

  Ranira started to reply, but Jaren motioned her to silence. He leaned forward to listen at the door, then nodded. “Ranira, Shandy, let us guide you until we are outside and you can see again. Arelnath!”

  Ranira heard the soft puff of breath below her on the stairs as Arelnath blew out the flame of the candle stub. The flickering light vanished, plunging the room into darkness. Ranira heard the click of the door latch and felt a hand on her shoulder. She stumbled forward in the darkness and heard a second door open. Moonlight flooded in. She did not stop to look around, but hurried forward into the alley.

  Without waiting to be asked, Shandy slid by her and gestured for them all to follow him. Halfway up the alley he stopped and pointed at a narrow space between two buildings, then vanished inside it. A moment later he reappeared and beckoned. Mist nodded, and Arelnath stepped forward and disappeared. Mist followed; then it was Ranira’s turn.

  She looked dubiously at the dark, narrow opening. Jaren stood in the shadows beside her, silent and still, but plainly waiting for Ranira to go ahead. Reluctantly, she started to slide between the walls. As she did so, she heard a quick intake of breath from Jaren, and instinctively her head turned. She had just time enough to see and grasp the significance of the eight robed figures at the end of the alley before Jaren shoved her forward. She felt him squeeze into the opening behind her, and she forced herself to move faster. She could not run; there was too little space.

  Abruptly, the walls ended and Ranira stumbled into another alley. “Renra! This way,” Shandy hissed beside her.

  “There are Templemen back there,” Ranira whispered back as she followed. “Hurry!”

  The boy’s eyes widened, and he nodded and set off at once. Ranira and Jaren followed. Two shapes joined them as they passed along the edge of the alley: Mist and Arelnath. They did not need Jaren’s whispered “Templemen” to make them move more quietly; both were already as silent as shadows.

  As they followed Shandy up the alley, Ranira expected any moment to hear Templemen behind them or see guards blocking their way in front. None appeared. Undisturbed, the little group worked its way across a narrow street and another alley, until a wordless shout from the direction of the old building announced that their former hiding place had been found.

  Now their way became more difficult. Groups of Watchmen sped by, heading toward the source of the cry. Kaldarin had joined Elewyth in the sky, a thin red crescent split by the beginnings of a black stripe. The additional light, dim as it was, made dodging the Templemen harder, and the strain of constant wariness exhausted Ranira.

  For hours they wove through the streets and alleys of Drinn, barely ahead of the Temple searchers. There were no pilgrims on the streets. They themselves were the only moving things besides the Temple guards and the rats. Wearily, Ranira wondered where all the people were. The inns never had enough space for all those visiting Drinn during Festival, but there was no sign of anyone too poor or too unlucky to find a room. The only place in Drinn big enough to hold them all was the Temple. She shivered at the implications of that thought and tried to thrust it out of her mind, but it would not go away.

  They reached a small sheltered area, out of sight of the street. Ranira touched Jaren’s shoulder to attract his attention. If she could tell him her suspicions, perhaps they would cease to preoccupy her. The blond man turned and shook his head, then pointed. Ahead, Shandy was standing in front of a pile of rubble. The front wall of the building still stood, but the rest of it appeared to be simply a heap of boards and broken bricks. There was no sign of Mist or Arelnath.

  As they came closer, Shandy grinned and pointed. Ranira bent down. Near the base of the pile was an opening, h
ardly more than an irregular gap in the tumbled brick. She looked up and Shandy pointed again, insistently. Ranira bent once more and began squirming into the hole.

  It was not as difficult as she had feared. The opening was larger than it looked, and though the tunnel beyond was lumpy and uncomfortable, it was passable. It twisted right, then sloped sharply downward, toward the interior of the pile. At the top of the incline, Ranira found it impossible to move forward. Her hands scratched ahead of her. Then her feet found a securely embedded rock, and she twisted and shoved. Suddenly she was sliding down the slope; then, in a shower of brick dust, she rolled into an open area and collided with someone.

  “Who are you?” a voice whispered.

  Ranira was coughing too hard to answer at once. She felt a knife point prick her throat. “Ranira,” she whispered hastily between spasms, and the pressure vanished. “Shandy and Jaren are behind me,” she added when the coughing finally subsided.

  “It took you long enough,” Arelnath grumbled in the darkness. “I thought a Templeman had found you.”

  Jaren’s arrival spared Ranira a reply. She could not see him, but the low-voiced curses mixed with coughing were more than enough to identify him. Beside her, Arelnath snorted. “Quiet, Jaren. We don’t know how far sound carries here,” she whispered.

  “You can’t hear anything outside,” Shandy’s voice informed them in a normal tone. “Long as nobody shouts they won’t notice, even if a Templeman is standing on top of the rocks. And nobody can see lights, either. I blocked the entrance.”

  “Good,” Arelnath said. “You are thorough.” A moment later the candle stub flared in her hand.

  They were in a rough cave formed by part of a collapsing floor and a few strong beams that kept the rest of the rubble at bay. In the middle of the floor, next to a dusty green bottle, lay a little bag which Ranira recognized as the one Shandy sometimes carried to collect kitchen scraps. Somewhere was an opening for air to enter; Ranira could feel a slow draft on her face.