“Oh, he did, did he? That George! Always minding other people’s business. I haven’t rented out a room in some time. Course,” she paused and her blue eyes twinkled, “truth is, I haven’t had any call to. I suppose I could accommodate you, so long as you can pay. You have Inland Province coppers?”
Inland Province! He’d forgotten Pescatil was in Inland Province. “I’m afraid I’ve had no chance to exchange my coppers here in Inland. I’ve come from Marquez. Do you accept Wide Sands coppers?”
She shook her head. “I would if there was a place here in Pescatil to exchange them, but we don’t have an exchange office here anymore. Used to, before the misfortune. But now we don’t, so I’d have to charge you a trium. I could let you stay two nights and have three meals a day for a trium. You planning more than an overnight stay?”
“Probably,” he said, with relief. He still had triums in his wallet. “I’m hoping to meet friends here, but I don’t know when they’ll arrive.” If they arrive at all. He thrust aside that glum thought. “I’ll gladly pay a trium now for a two-night stay and meals. And a place for my horse.”
“There’s a barn out back. Got a few chickens there, but I haven’t had a horse since my husband died. In the misfortune, you know.”
He didn’t know, but whatever it was, he didn’t care now. He just wanted to settle his horse and get a good meal. He got out a trium and handed her the silver coin. She nodded. “You go and bring in your things, then take care of your horse. The barn isn’t locked. We don’t have any thieves here. By the time you finish I’ll have supper waiting.”
He had no “things” to bring in, and told her so. She got him a lantern, lit it, and handed it to him. “It’ll be dark in the barn,” she said. “You’ll find a trough there, probably needs dusting out. There’s a water pump right behind the house.” She got him a bucket to fill with water for the horse but stared in consternation when he told her he also carried no feed for the horse.
“You’ve come all the way from Marquez with no food and no baggage?” She stared at him in disbelief.
He was forced to relieve her suspicion by telling her of the theft of their goods from their wagon, but changing or omitting details that would reveal his giftedness. He told her of chasing one of the thieves without thought of taking provisions for himself or his horse, told of riding so hard and fast he’d killed his horse, but told of the luck he had in encountering the thief and taking his horse in exchange, explaining that by that time he’d gone so far from the place where they’d been robbed that it had seemed better to continue on to Pescatil rather than to return. He’d thought he’d find food and lodging along the way but there had been nothing.
She listened in rapt fascination. This must be the most exciting tale she’d heard in a long time. When he finished, she said, “I have grain for the chickens. It should be something the horse can eat for now. Tomorrow I’ll tell you where you might find a place to get proper food for your horse."
All that settled, Lore felt that his fortune had taken a turn for the better. With a spring in his step he went out to care for the horse. Later he enjoyed what surely had to be the most delicious and welcome meal he had ever eaten. He filled up on a hearty stew accompanied by a salad of fresh greens and bread fresh from the oven, its crisp crust still warm, and its soft interior a delight to his tongue. He could not find enough words to award the sweet, juicy blackberry pie he was served for dessert the praise it deserved.
Not long after that wonderful dinner, he lay in a delightfully soft bed between clean muslin sheets and under a down-filled, hand-embroidered quilt, feeling that all his troubles had come to an end. With Kyla found safe, he could sleep peacefully and awaken, surely, with his powers restored. He could then mindsend to Zauna and Renni to tell them of his success, and they could get word to Camsen. He’d urge them to come as quickly as possible to Pescatil. Once they were all back together, they’d have only a short journey to Hillcross, where they could fulfill their vow by building a place where Kyla could be laid to rest and they could return to Port-of-Lords and go on with their lives. And if Veronica’s vision was right, some day Kyla would awaken and be restored. But if, as he strongly suspected, the girl’s vision was no more than a reflection of her own desperate hope, at least Kyla would be interred with all the respect she deserved.
He fell asleep with that thought putting a smile on his face.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
VISION
Happily ensconced in a comfortable room that had cost her nothing, Zauna leaned back and let out a great sigh of contentment. She’d requested a dinner brought to her room, a delicious meal that left her sated. She lay on the bed, propped up against pillows, and thought how fine it would be just to go to sleep and get a good night’s rest before starting on her journey up river. But a nagging thought that while she relaxed here her friends could be in trouble rousted her from the bed and made her open the box and extract her crystal ball from among the cushioning clothing. Clothing she needed to have laundered. She recalled that the inn offered overnight laundry service. She could put off her crystal gazing a little longer by taking the soiled garments downstairs and making arrangements for their laundering.
She gathered up the clothing and carried it to the door. She’d just stepped into the hall when a maid hurried to her. “Mistress, if you want those clothes washed, I’ll be glad to take care of that for you.”
“I do need them washed,” Zauna replied. “And I must have them ready for packing tomorrow morning.”
“They will be ready. I’ll see to it.” The helpful maid relieved Zauna of her bundle and carried it off.
With no reason to delay longer, Zauna placed the crystal on the nightstand, sat on the edge of the bed, and stared into its depths, willing it to reveal what was happening to her companions—any or all of them.
A scene took form—first just a blur of brownish yellow that slowly resolved itself into a field of grain, ripe for harvesting. But no harvesting was taking place. No activity of any kind. Why was she seeing this? The scene focused in on one patch of grain in which stalks had been pushed aside. Something lay on the ground. The view shifted to a point directly above that something, allowing her to look down—on Kyla!
Kyla lay still but did not seem damaged. And then Zauna was astonished to see Kyla’s eyelids flutter. One hand moved. The eyes opened. The head turned. Kyla waked. She lifted her head, looking about. Slowly she sat up, an expression of bewilderment clear to read on her face. Doubtless she was wondering why she was waking in a field of grain and how she had gotten there.
As Zauna watched in fascination, Kyla rose unsteadily to her feet and gazed around her. She jerked as though something startled her. She looked up, staring at a cloudless blue sky. What held her attention so? She cocked her head as though listening. If only it were possible to hear the scene shown in the crystal. Zauna could only make guesses as to what was happening. Could the Power-Giver be communicating with her? The message, whoever was sending it, seemed to be a long one. Kyla remained standing still, in that listening pose, for some time. Finally she slowly shook her head. She turned her face, and Zauna saw tears flowing down Kyla’s cheeks before the head bowed, and she could no longer see Kyla’s face. She did see Kyla nod, saw her shoulders slump.
The scene broadened. All around Kyla the grasses swayed this way and that as if pummeled by a wind that constantly changed directions. Kyla fell to her knees. Around her the very ground seemed in upheaval. A skeletal arm raised upward. A skull balanced precariously on a column of vertebrae that seemed to articulate into a spine as Zauna watched. This eerie sight duplicated and tripled itself before Zauna’s horrified eyes, bones coming together into skeletons that stood shakily while Kyla crumpled to the ground. Muscles sprouted and grew to bind the bones. Internal organs became visible. Large arteries and veins took form and behind breastbones hearts began to beat and blood coursed through the newly formed vessels. Eyes appeared in hollow sockets. Flesh climbed over the exposed o
rgans and faces took shape. Hair sprouted on heads and bodies. Eyelids blinked, lashes and brows gave the faces expression. Kyla’s eyes closed, her body collapsed onto the ground. She gave one shuddering breath and lay still even as the revenants inhaled and opened eyes that gazed about with dawning curiosity.
Could this really be happening? Or would happen? Or had happened?
Zauna felt faint, overwhelmed by what she was witnessing. It was all she could do to force herself to continue to watch. Tatters of cloth appeared on the bodies, came together like pieces of a puzzle, forming garments to cover the naked bodies. And tentatively at first, then more confidently the resurrected horde began to move, rising slowly, stamping as if to wake sleeping feet, swinging arms as though to test their motion. Heads turned this way and that. Mouths opened and closed in cries silent to Zauna but clearly heard by those she observed. Groups began to form. Some were all adults, but others included children. She witnessed one small girl running wildly from group to group, arms waving, mouth open in silent screams until a young woman hurried toward her and caught her up in her arms, and the child clung to her while the woman’s mouth formed what must be soothing words or sounds.
One group of adults marched together through the field to a road. Its leader, a young man, after looking about, pointed, and the group headed off in the direction his pointing finger indicated. Other groups formed more slowly, hunting through the crowd of what must be close to two hundred individuals until they found someone—perhaps a spouse or a parent or other relative. Children scampered about searching for and eventually finding parents or friends. Some of these reunited family groups moved out onto the road, walking in the direction the first group had taken. Others continued to mill around in the field, still searching for what must be family members or perhaps friends and neighbors. None paid any regard to Kyla, who lay still again like the corpse she had seemed to be when last Zauna had seen her.
“What does it all mean?” she asked aloud, not expecting an answer but needing the sound of her own voice to bring about a sense of reality to the surreal scene she had witnessed.
A voice spoke, not in her mind but from all around her, filling the room though it did not shout. “It means you and your three companions must complete your mission,” it said.
“Who—who are you? Are you the Power -Giver?”
“I am the source of the Power-Giver’s power. I am the Dire Lord Kyla knew as Claid. You may trust me to preserve Kyla’s life so long as you obey the command I have given.”
“Can you—” Her voice trembled so that she could barely speak. “Will you explain what I just saw? Is it real? Has it happened, or will it happen? Did those people really come back to life?”
“It has happened. Kyla Cren has willingly given of her life to return life to the people of Pescatil who were cruelly cut down by an evil act eight of your years ago. I was not the one who asked that of her, but I could not prevent it. You see, because I allowed Kyla to return life to her fallen companions so that their evil foe could be defeated and because I gave her the power to do so, I have been severely chastised by other Dire Lords. And because I ‘meddled’ in human affairs to that extent, one of my rivals insisted that he, too, had the right to intervene in human affairs to a similar extent.
“You must understand that Dire Lords do not measure time as you do. In fact, we do not measure it at all. I believe you can understand that difference to some extent because it is a bit similar to the visions you see in that globe you have set before you. In it you witness events without reference to time. So do we, but the difference is that we live outside of time as you understand it. In that sense, our viewing of events in your world is something like your visions in that crystal. The eight years that passed for you since the people in your vision were cruelly massacred are nothing to Dire Lords—a mere breath. And so the rival Dire Lord of whom I spoke demanded that he be allowed to return to life those people whom you saw in the same way as I had done. In doing so I had violated a non-interference agreement, so he could not be denied the right to do the same, using the same human instrument as I did. I could only insist that Kyla be told why she was called upon to do this and that I be allowed to channel power to her, but only enough to complete the task. She must be left in the same condition she was in before being wakened to perform the life-giving act.”
“So she is alive?” Zauna found the courage to ask.
“In a manner of speaking, yes. She remains in a state neither living nor dead and will do so for an indefinite period of time. She must be found and restored to her coffin, and that coffin placed in a hidden cave and guarded at all times. I charge you with convincing your companions to do this.”
Zauna fell to her knees. “But how?” she squeaked. “And why then am I separated from them?”
Only silence answered her frantic queries. The speaker had withdrawn. The room that had vibrated with power while he spoke now felt empty, desolate. A sense of bereavement overtook Zauna, and she collapsed in tears.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
FATHER AND SON
Camsen awoke to the certainty that he was being watched. He opened his eyes and found that he’d slept through the night. Daylight flooded the wagon, which was in motion. He sat up in alarm, looked around, didn’t see Jeppy. Ril still slept. Jeppy must be driving the wagon. He’d better make certain they were still headed in the right direction.
Thornbridge was awake and regarding him with a bemused expression. He seemed more alert, more fully conscious than he had been last evening. As though he’d read Camsen’s mind, Thornbridge said, “Jeppy thought I was still asleep. I’m sure he didn’t want me to see him, so he muttered, ‘I better get this wagon moving,’ and climbed out and around onto the driver’s seat. I’d guess he’s more scared of you than of me right now, so he’s doing what he reckons you’d want him to.”
Not knowing what to say, Camsen merely nodded.
“That girl who stole my horse,” Thornbridge began, scowling, “she has good horsemanship, but I know Triumph would not have attacked me like that if she wasn’t controlling him somehow.”
“She’s gifted,” Ril spoke up, startling Camsen, who hadn’t realized the boy had awakened. “So’s he. I’ve been trying to figure out what that means, but they won’t tell me.”
It seemed by that bold imparting of information that Ril had lost much of his fear of Thornbridge.
Not all of it though. When Thornbridge slid closer to the empty coffin, reached up, pulled himself up to a sitting position, and rested his back against the coffin, Ril scooted back against the edge of the wagon.
“I figured they had something special they could do,” Thornbridge said, grinning at the boy’s cautious move. “That what they call it? Gifted?”
Eyes fixed warily on Thornbridge, Ril said, “Yep, they both call it that. He” indicating Camsen with a nod of his head, “can throw fire, and you shoulda seen the big dragon he made outta smoke. Miss Natches did sumpin, I don’t know what, that made Shiny and Jeppy do what she told ’em and bring all the stuff we’d carted up to the camp back down here and stow it in the wagon again. Wish I knew how she did that.”
“So they weren’t turncoats. She had them under some sort of spell?”
“Seems so,” Ril opined.
He turned his head toward Camsen, his gaze sharp now, his green eyes fully awake and alert. “I don’t suppose you’ll explain to me either,” he said.
“I don’t believe it’s necessary to explain to you,” he responded, wanting to hear how Thornbridge might react to his deliberately ambiguous comment.
“Right now I can’t do anything, but I suspect that before long I’ll feel up to testing those so-called gifts myself.”
Camsen recognized that as a challenge and a warning. Perhaps Ril did also. The boy’s eyes widened, and he, too, fastened his gaze on Camsen.
Again he was struck by how Ril’s eyes and Thornbridge’s were the same shade of green. And the shape of their noses was similar too.<
br />
“You won’t hurt me, will you, Thorny?” Ril asked fearfully. They made me help ’em. Jeppy too. We ain’t traitors, neither of us.”
“Aren’t you? You’re like a little chameleon, Ril. You’re loyal to whoever you figure is strongest. Whichever side is winning. I didn’t figure Jeppy to be like that, but maybe he is, too.”
“No, honest, Thorny. I helped Master Wellner save you. Didn’t I, Master Wellner?”
Camsen recalled that Ril had not even been present when he and Jeppy lifted the badly injured and comatose Thornbridge into the wagon. He’d been tending to the horse Thornbridge had ridden hard in his haste to reach the wagon and reclaim the horse Renni had stolen from him. Camsen wouldn’t lie, but neither would he expose the boy’s lie. “Ril was following my orders at the time,” he said, letting Thornbridge interpret that answer as he chose.
Thornbridge’s enigmatic smile made Camsen quite sure the bandit leader had not missed the ambiguity of that response to Ril’s assertion.
Ril was quite clearly relieved. “There, you see? I’m no cam … cam … what you called me.”
“Chameleon,” Thornbridge supplied with a chuckle. “It’s a kind of lizard. It changes its color to match whatever surface it’s on, so things that want to kill it can’t see it.”
“You don’t want to kill me, though, do you Master Thornbridge?” Ril’s eyes widened in sudden fear. “I’m loyal to you, honest I am.”
“Good, because you know what I do to traitors. A traitor doesn’t deserve to live.”
“I’m no traitor,” Ril said, looking frantically at Camsen for support.
“I’m sure Master Thornbridge didn’t mean to threaten to kill you,” Camsen soothed. “I believe he understands you’ve only been trying to survive.”
“Yes, that’s it. I just did what I had to so they wouldn’t kill me.”
Deniably Dead (Arucadi Series Book 4) Page 15