The Wound of the World

by Edward W. Robertson

  "How the hell should I know?"

  "My mistake. When I heard you telling Vita you knew a way, I assumed that meant you knew a way."

  "I had confidence in our ability to come up with one," Dante said. "So let's not tarnish our reputations by screwing it up."

  "I figured you'd follow them with one of your moths or something."

  "Won't work. If I tail it with a moth, and we fall more than fifty miles behind them, I'll lose my connection to the bug. If we stick close enough to maintain the connection, they'll be able to see us. Although it sounds like their ships will be too fast for us to keep up with anyway."

  Blays took a contemplative sip, slurping much more loudly than was necessary. "Bugs are out, then. So do what you did to find me. Get some blood from one of the sailors, and you can follow him all the way to the end of the route."

  "Got a suggestion for how to acquire that blood?"

  "Sure. Go up to a bar and punch one of their crew in the nose."

  "Vita said they never let their sailors off the ship."

  "Gods damn it, I'm getting tired of all my brilliant ideas getting slain by these peasantish facts. Vita said these sailors are trained as youths, right? Right, so here's what you do: collect the blood of every child in Alebolgia. Eventually, one of them will be chosen to crew on the route. You'll already have his blood, hence you'll be able to follow him."

  Dante swirled his cup. "What a wonderful plan. It will take a minimum of ten years to unfold and it will give me the reputation of someone who sucks the blood from little children."

  "Like that's any worse than the stories they tell about you now?"

  "What stories?"

  "Don't worry about it." Blays stood, brandishing his empty cup. "I require another."

  "You just got that one!"

  "And I depleted it in the service of our work. If you want more ideas, I need more coffee."

  He went back inside the building, returning a minute later with a refilled cup. This time, he sipped like a reasonable person.

  "You're okay with this?" Dante glanced at the patio door to make sure they were still alone. "Overthrowing the Itiegos?"

  "Yep."

  "You're sure?"

  "If I wasn't, rather than saying 'Yep,' I might say something like 'No,' or 'Your idea is so dishonorable I demand satisfaction in the form of a duel.' Are you okay with it?"

  "Why wouldn't I be?"

  Blays eyed him. "We're supporting the Colleners in order to win their freedom, right? Particularly the religious freedom that Mallon's always denied them. And in support of that cause, you'll happily subvert the religious freedom of the Alebolgians, whose holy scriptures insist on keeping the port open."

  "Yes. And?"

  "And some people who aren't you would consider that hypocritical."

  "Gladdic wants to exterminate everyone in Collen for believing in something that Mallon doesn't like. If we can stop him from doing that by twisting one small tenet of Alebolgian belief, it would be cruel not to intervene here."

  "I'm starting to think the most important skill a leader can have is the ability to rationalize anything." Blays took a drink of coffee. "Here's a different tack. We cut out the middlemen altogether. If we can find some tallas seeds, you can harvest them into a full crop."

  "That's not totally crazy. But I don't think I've ever seen a tallas seed. Even if we could find some, Vita wants a regular supply. They won't grow here on their own. That means I'd have to keep harvesting them for her—but the whole point of all this scheming is to untangle us from this region for good."

  "There's no way they can keep the entire crew confined to the ship when they come to port. The sailors might tolerate that, but what about the captains? Or young Itiego nobles assigned to sail off and check on the family investment? Should be able to nab a bit of their blood."

  Dante tapped the rim of his mug. "Could put the House under observation. I'll slip a moth or three into their villa. Though Vita made it sound like the Itiegos have their own sorcerers, so maybe I'll try something sneakier."

  Blays' eyebrows lifted like canoes on a swell. "Mosquitos."

  "People hate mosquitos. They'd only draw more attention."

  "Not to spy on the House. When the next tallas ship comes in, you send over the mosquitos."

  "To bite the crew. And bring back their blood to me." Dante laughed. "Time to ask Vita if she knows when the next ship's coming in."

  They returned to the inn to send a messenger to their contact in House Osedo. The messenger returned stating that while the arrival of the tallas ships wasn't known with precision, the first ones always arrived early in spring. Dante thanked the messenger, feeling disappointed they hadn't had another chance to speak to Vita in person.

  He was right about to summon the Hand and explain the situation when his loon pulsed in his ear. He expected it would be Naran updating them on the situation in Collen, but it turned out it was Nak, contacting him all the way from Narashtovik.

  "No need to berate me," Dante said. "We've been delayed a little longer than I intended, but we're almost through here. We'll be back in Narashtovik before the summer."

  "I have a feeling we'll see you well before then." Nak's usually cheerful voice was tight with stress. "The first copy of the Cycle—it's been stolen."

  11

  Dante touched his loon, uncertain he'd heard right. "The first copy of the Cycle."

  "Correct," Nak said.

  "Not the false copy?"

  "Indeed."

  "But the original was hidden. Inside a stone wall. How could they have found it?"

  "We are as perplexed as you are, mighty commander. One of the guards noticed that the chapel study looked like it had been disturbed. When I investigated, it didn't look like anything was missing besides a few curtains. However, you will be pleased to hear that I am as thorough as I am insightful, and withdrew to reflect on my suspicions—"

  "Get on with it, Nak."

  "—which in turn led me to mount a more thorough search of the chambers. At which point I discovered a boot lodged in the wall."

  "A boot?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "In the wall?"

  "I was as confused as you are, sir."

  "There was a boot. Lodged in the wall. And you didn't notice this the first time?"

  "Well, it was hidden under a cloth, you see. May I move on?"

  Dante grasped his temples. "I'd like nothing more."

  "This curious boot was stuck in the wall concealing the original Cycle. Being a man of great reason, I deduced that I should look behind the wall. Short of a sledgehammer, I had no ability to check on the original myself. However, I knew that Minn was in the Citadel—she's waiting on Blays, incidentally, and is growing rather annoyed—and inquired if she would open the wall for me. She obliged. And I found that the book was gone."

  Dante's head spun. The original copy of the Cycle of Arawn held an immense and largely mysterious power. He knew firsthand that if someone with latent skill in the nether read its pages, the book could somehow unlock their abilities. Before Samarand had been sent off to Arawn's starry hill, she'd claimed the book could be used to open a portal that the god himself could step through.

  Dante doubted that strongly, and wasn't entirely sure that it was a good idea to find out if it was true, but there was no denying the potency of the book, which he'd intended to spend more time studying at a time in his life that was less interesting. Aside from whatever magical properties it possessed, its value as a cultural and religious artifact was second to nothing in the Arawnite faith.

  Which was why he'd sealed it up behind a stone wall for safekeeping.

  "Other than the boot, the wall was intact?" Dante said. "No sign of entry?"

  "None."

  "Its floor and ceiling were undisturbed?"

  "I checked it as thoroughly as an empty closet can be checked, which is to say with extreme thoroughness. I found no evidence of the burglar—excepting, of course, that per
plexing boot."

  Dante's mind spun in circles. "I'm coming back. We'll leave today."

  "Er, you are? Aren't you in the middle of terribly important business?"

  "That business can be left on hold until the spring. In the wrong hands, the original Cycle could be a lot of trouble—and anyone capable of stealing it definitely counts as the wrong hands."

  "I regret the circumstances of your return," Nak said. "But it will be good to see you home again."

  Dante shut down the connection, then gathered the Hand, explaining the change in circumstances. "My goal will be to recover the book and deal with the perpetrator as quickly as I can. Even accounting for travel time, I expect we can be back here before the first ship arrives from the Tallas Route."

  "'We'?" Blays said. "You're volunteering me for all this travel?"

  "You're free to go back to Pocket Cove if they need you. They've probably been overrun by crabs without you there to eat them all."

  "But you will return?" the Keeper said.

  Dante ran his hand down his mouth. "I don't like to make promises I'm not certain I can keep. But as soon as I've dealt with this, I'll be back here to complete our deal with Vita. Maybe this is for the best. I can clean up a few messes in Narashtovik without compromising matters down here."

  "Then let us depart. The sooner you leave, the sooner you can see to your affairs."

  They set about packing their things and gathering up the caravan. Some of their retinue was out in the city, running errands, trolling for gossip, or simply enjoying themselves. While servants went out to gather them up, Dante headed for their contact in House Osedo. The man was perturbed that Dante had come in person—quite understandably, Lady Vita didn't want to be seen working with the Colleners—but agreed to go see her. As soon as he left, Dante slew a nearby bee and sent it after the man to make certain he wasn't being followed by any Cavanese spies.

  The contact returned in half an hour, providing Dante with a set of directions. Dante followed them to the rear of a small church. It was a cold day and the scent of wood smoke mingled with the fog.

  After waiting long enough that Dante was starting to wonder if he had the right place, an old woman shuffled up to a statue of a pious-looking man, supporting herself with a cane. A heavy wool shawl warmed her against the chill. She kneeled before the statue.

  Without looking up, Vita said, "What is so important that we have to meet in such a reckless way?"

  "We're leaving," Dante said. "We'll be gone by day's end."

  "Is your word that worthless? We had a deal!"

  "We still do. And we know exactly how we're going to fulfill our end of it. Something's come up in my homeland that I have to see to myself. I mean to be back by spring."

  "This news couldn't have been brought to me by a messenger?"

  "I thought telling you in person would make it clear that I'm serious about honoring our arrangement."

  "Mm." Vita touched the statue's feet. "Then I will see you in the spring."

  That afternoon, they headed up the road to the top of the cliffs overlooking Cavana. Dante was hoping for a last look at the scenic coastal city, but the fog blurred everything to gray shapes. They rode forward. As they crested a line of hills a few miles north of the city, the temperature dropped abruptly, along with the coastal humidity. Ahead, the fields were dusted with snow.

  ~

  In the basin, fields of snow glittered under a distant sun. Buttes thrust from the whiteness like unfinished blocks left behind by a forgetful sculptor. They'd made good time, and with a rider ranging ahead to the city to make preparations, everything was set for Dante and Blays to continue to Narashtovik at once.

  Collen provided them with four horses. Asties weren't suited for the brutality of northern winters, so they went with raggies instead, shaggy and hardy beasts like oversized ponies.

  "Stay on your toes," Dante told the Hand as the provisions were being loaded onto the raggies. "Mallon won't be able to launch another invasion until spring, but snows won't stop saboteurs."

  Boggs smirked. "You think you're tellin' us something we don't already know?"

  "I have to say something before I leave. It might as well masquerade as wise advice."

  The three Colleners dispersed to go about their own business. Naran replaced them, crunching up through the thin snow. "Did you intend to depart without saying goodbye?"

  Blays tightened a strap on his saddlebag. "Maybe we're smart enough to know that you would come to us."

  "You asked me to stay in Collen while you're away. I've decided to leave as well."

  Dante looked up. "But we need a set of eyes here."

  "Why? If something happens, will you snap your fingers and teleport to the Reborn Shrine? While you're in Narashtovik, you can't do anything about what transpires here. So what does it matter if you know every detail?"

  "It would still be much more helpful than if you're in Narashtovik."

  Naran gave him a dubious look. "I don't have any desire to freeze my unmentionables in your blizzard-racked wasteland. I want to go to Tanar Atain."

  "To hunt Gladdic?"

  "That would be my main motivation."

  Blays put his hand on Naran's shoulder. "Captain, is your mind that troubled? Suicide is never the answer, my friend."

  Naran snorted, shrugging off Blays' hand. "Did I say anything about looking to assault him? My intention is to find him. I'll leave the matter of dying against his wicked sorcery to you two."

  Dante tapped his chin with his thumb. "There's no guarantee he's down there. That's only the rumor."

  "I appreciate that. However, my crew's growing restless—and light in the pocket. If the Sword of the South doesn't start earning money, my tenure as captain will be short-lived indeed."

  "Fair enough. But take a loon with you. And leave someone you trust in Collen to act as a relay between us. If you and I try to share a loon when you're heading that far south, I'm afraid the connection will be stretched until it breaks."

  They decided to leave two loons with Naran's trusted crewman Jona, who wasn't happy to be stuck in Collen while the Sword of the South would be out making cash and visiting fun new ports, but he was mollified when Naran doubled his regular earnings.

  With this and everything else settled, or at least as settled as it could be, Dante and Blays rode out from the city. The first few days were spent traveling overland through the desert of Collen and into the Mallish woods on the other side of the hills. The snow and lack of roads made it slower than Dante would have liked, but with two horses apiece, they still managed to keep a fair pace.

  Once they'd bypassed Bressel, they intercepted the Chanset River and struck north. Under the overcast skies, the mile-wide river was the gray of hammered iron.

  Though they were traveling through enemy lands, within a few days, Dante felt more carefree than at any time since they'd first left for the Plagued Islands. Some of that was the act of travel itself, which he always enjoyed, but putting physical distance between himself and the Collen Basin allowed him to get some mental distance from it as well.

  His anger at the Keeper's betrayal wasn't only about the act of manipulation. He'd done similar things in the past, and expected to do more of them in the future. At least when you were manipulating someone, that meant you weren't killing them.

  Instead, he was angry because he'd thought they were friends. Untrue: to her, he was a game piece. This was disappointing, but it simplified his relationship with both her and Collen. Once his objectives were achieved there, he could walk away and wash his hands. He'd have no further reason to ever get involved there again.

  "The Keeper played us good, didn't she?" Blays said. He smiled wryly. "Just like the Kandeans."

  "Funny, I was just thinking about that."

  "Oh no. Please tell me your thoughts aren't a communicable disease."

  "Is being taken advantage of just the natural risk of trying to do good?"

  "We could test that theory b
y doing evil instead."

  "Have you ever been tempted to walk away?"

  "I'm tempted right now," Blays said. "If we never went back to Collen, I wouldn't blame us."

  "What's stopping you?

  "For one thing, the thought of leaving all those innocents in the lurch isn't my favorite idea of all time. For another, what if this sort of thing is like our calling?"

  Dante twisted in the saddle. "I thought you'd been getting cranky about getting dragged into everyone else's business."

  "I am. In large part because other people's business never seems to end. But when I saw what Gladdic had done—those people in the cave…"

  Dante nodded, gazing blankly through the leafless forest. Finding Gladdic's stash of bodies had troubled him, too. It wasn't so much the quantity of the dead—he'd seen many more during the war with Gask—but rather the methodicalness of it. Gladdic had stacked the corpses like the proverbial firewood. Like salmon packed in salt.

  "The deaths on a battlefield make a certain sort of sense," Dante said. "War is a storm. When a storm hits, people die without reason. But what Gladdic did was different. It was deliberate. Precise. The murder was the entire point."

  Blays grunted. "It's like he was a farmer of lives. How many people out there do you think could have stopped him?"

  "How many people could have destroyed the Andrac? Not many. The Council together might have been able to. Moddegan's sorcerer school could. And there are more than enough ethermancers in Bressel to take them on."

  "In other words, if we hadn't been there, the entire city of Collen would have been slaughtered. There are horrors out there. People who act like monsters, and monsters that are monsters with big sharp claws and fangs that could rip a pig in half. Maybe we were put here to smite them."

  "I don't think we were put here to kill the wicked. Arawn doesn't care about saving lives—he knows we're all his sooner or later. Wherever we are, we brought ourselves here."

  "That makes it all the more important." Blays ducked under a reaching bough. "If the gods aren't putting anyone here to kill the monsters, then there's no guarantee that anyone will fight them at all."