Path of Blood

by Diana Pharaoh Francis

  For a moment there was silence. Emelovi stared, repeating the words in her mind, trying to make them make sense. The others seemed equally taken aback.

  “Plague-healers?” Kebonsat repeated.

  “That’s what one of them said.” Reisiltark shook her head perplexedly. “She said . . . the plague has no harmony. They sing it back to joy.”

  “What in the Hag’s name does that mean?” Soka demanded.

  “Lady knows. There was no time for questions. All I could do was send them out of the stronghold, hoping they’d get away. Have you seen them? They look almost human but with a nokula’s silver eyes. Their cheekbones are ridged and their brows wide. All four of them were pale as grass that’s never seen the light of day.”

  Everyone shook their heads. Everyone but Juhrnus. He began to swear.

  “You’ve seen them then?” Kebonsat asked eagerly.

  “Maybe. I don’t know. There’s been sightings. Nokulas are what we thought they were. They had the eyes, you know. And strange faces. People thought—I thought—they were in the middle of the change to nokula.”

  “What did you do to them?”

  Juhrnus shook his head. “Killed a few. Others we chased.” He looked around the assembled group, his face dark and hard. “We didn’t know what they were.”

  “Well, we do now, and we’d better find them,” Reisiltark declared. “If the plague has really arrived, we need them.”

  “Do you think . . . Do you think they can reverse the effects of Mysane Kosk?” Kebonsat asked, a peculiar intensity burrowing through his voice.

  Unexpectedly, everyone looked at Emelovi. She flushed, averting her eyes. Their combined regard lay over her like a heavy net. She squirmed, and then blessedly their attention returned to Reisiltark. Emelovi gathered her scattered composure, her heart fluttering, ice hardening in her lungs. What had caused that look . . . ?

  “I . . . doubt it,” Reisiltark said, answering Kebonsat’s question. “I think the plague and these . . . alterations . . . are two different things. The plague-healers and the nokulas aren’t decaying; they are simply different from what they were. They can still think and talk.

  “And that brings me to the last thing. A couple of days ago, Sodur found us. He said he’d been waiting.” She paused. “He’s changed, and so has Lume. They’ve both become nokulas, just like the Iisand.”

  She said more, but Emelovi could no longer hear the words. Her chest hurt and she felt cold, so cold. Her head reeled. She felt herself sway, and hands gripped her shoulders. She looked up into Kebonsat’s face. His mouth was drawn down and his skin had gone gray. But it was his eyes that caught her attention. There was knowledge there, and guilt.

  Emelovi’s tongue clung to the roof of her mouth as if mortared there. Her jaws felt like stone. She could not speak. Not that she knew what to say. Fragments of thought spun in her head, wanting to make a pattern, wanting to settle into an awful picture. She couldn’t let them. She didn’t want to know.

  The palms of her hands were pressed against her cheeks, and her fingers dug hard into her scalp. But she could not push out what she’d heard. She could not stop the puzzle pieces from falling together as understanding slowly emerged from the maelstrom in her head.

  Her father was . . . a nokula.

  She lowered her hands. Once again they were all looking at her. And suddenly she realized that they knew. They all knew.

  “Why?” she croaked. But she knew the answer. She would not have come. She would not have deserted Aare—he was the rightful ruler of Kodu Riik now. Fear spawned in her blood. But it could not win against the tide of bitterness sweeping through her. They’d lied. Kebonsat had lied. Something inside her screamed in agony and snapped in two. It was all a political game. She was just a pawn on the board—spoils in the war against her brother. But at least Aare was honest about it.

  Her stomach bucked and heaved. Her body twisted, and Kebonsat caught her as she spasmed forward, retching onto the floor. The noxious flavor burned in her throat and nose. Kebonsat rubbed her back, murmuring soft words.

  Something exploded behind Emelovi’s eyes at the caress.

  She wrenched away, falling off her chair. She shoved Kebonsat’s helping hands away and lurched to her feet, staggering drunkenly. Kebonsat made to reach for her again and her hands cracked loudly against his. She glared at him, panting, unable to get enough air into her constricted chest.

  “Do. Not. Touch. Me. Never again.” Her voice came from deep in the earth and her eyes burned with tears she would not let fall.

  Reisiltark was standing, pity and something akin to impatience coloring her expression. “Why don’t you all give us some privacy,” she said briskly. “The Vertina and I need to talk.”

  The others rose and left in embarrassed silence. Emelovi didn’t look at them. When at last the door shut and she was alone with Reisiltark, her legs sagged and she melted to the floor, sobs jumbling in her chest and tearing free of her throat. Reisiltark knelt beside her, pulling her close and stroking her hair.

  Emelovi didn’t know how long they remained thus, with Reisiltark murmuring softly, unintelligibly. Slowly the torrent of her emotions lessened and Emelovi sat up. Her nose was stuffed and her eyes felt swollen and gritty. Her head throbbed. She took the handkerchief Reisiltark offered, blowing her nose and rubbing away the tears. Reisiltark helped her to the chair that Yohuac had occupied and sat down opposite, picking again at her food, saying nothing.

  At last Emelovi could stand the silence no longer. “You said you wanted to talk?” Her voice was raspy and thick.

  Reisiltark sat back, wiping her hands on her napkin and crossing her arms over her chest. She scanned Emelovi up and down, as if examining a crystal vase for cracks. Emelovi flushed and stared at her hands knotted together in her lap.

  “I don’t know why they didn’t tell you the truth. They should have,” Reisiltark said.

  Emelovi jerked up, eyes widening. She didn’t know what she’d expected. Recrimination, maybe, something about decorum or behaving herself.

  “They should have, but they didn’t, and you’ve a right to your anger, but you’d better get over it, or at least put it aside until there’s time to indulge it. Your father isn’t coming back. Kodu Riik is in danger. Your brother is going to get the throne, and when he does he’s going to bring an army and the Scallacian sorcerers down on us. You can help, if you want.”

  “I wouldn’t have come if I’d known!” Emelovi cried. She wanted to defend herself. She should have stayed with Aare. She couldn’t be a traitor!

  Reisiltark stared and then shook her head, the pity returning. “I’m sorry for that. Sorry for you. But you’re here now. You can’t go back. He’ll kill you. Or worse.”

  She held Emelovi’s gaze, demanding truth. At last Emelovi gave in. “He wouldn’t kill me. It would not be enough, and it would be wasteful. My brother never wastes what he thinks will profit him.” She hesitated. “You told me Kebonsat was honorable. You said he was dependable and loyal and that you would trust him with your life.”

  Reisiltark sat back, her head tilting up as she remembered. The day the Scallacian sorcerers had arrived in Koduteel, the day Reisiltark and Emelovi had first spoken.

  “I still trust him. With my life. And yours. But the rest—that you will have to take up with him. His honor is his to defend.”

  “I cannot—” Emelovi broke off. She could not, she would not speak to Kebonsat. She felt . . . like she did when Aare had ordered her to lie with the Scallacian sorcerer. Trapped and naked and helpless. Kebonsat had done this. He’d taken something precious from her. Choice. He’d . . . he’d raped her. She recoiled from the idea. A small voice inside ridiculed the notion. No, he hadn’t. He’d saved her from Aare, from having to bed the sorcerer, from losing her pride and becoming a whore. He’d given her exactly what she wanted—a way out.

  Her fingers curled, her nails chewing into her palms. But he’d lied to do it. Lied about her father. Lied about
caring for her. Or maybe that part was genuine. But that only made it worse. He’d treated her like a bitch to be taught to fetch and heel.

  A hot blush suffused her body as she realized the depth of her gullibilty and stupidity. Her stomach twisted again, and she clenched her teeth against the tide of bile that rose up on her tongue. She would not make a spectacle of herself again.

  She lifted her chin, her lips clamped tight. She met Reisiltark’s pitying gaze with a hard glare.

  “I am no child. Is there more I should know?”

  Reisiltark smiled, and the pity transformed into respect. She leaned forward over the table, her voice solemn. “You came here to find your father. But he’s gone. I don’t think there’s any way to change him back, and that isn’t what I’m trying to do. My goal is to stabilize the spell the wizards cast and keep Kodu Riik from being destroyed. To keep the entire world and Yohuac’s world from being destroyed, if Nurema is right. You know what’s happening?”

  Emelovi nodded. Since leaving Koduteel, she’d been privy to most everything Metyein, Kebonsat, Juhrnus, Soka, and Nurema had discussed, from the planning of Honor to the dangers of Mysane Kosk. Though she had had nothing to say to add to it, she’d listened avidly.

  “Good. You say you wouldn’t have come if you’d known the truth. That’s water down to the ocean. You can’t go back. So it’s time to think about what you’re going to do here.”

  Emelovi frowned. “What I’m to do? What do you mean?”

  Reisiltark pushed away the stray hairs tickling her face. “They brought you here to save you. I doubt they even thought about what it would mean. Not that they would have done differently.” She smiled bitterly. “People will do awful things to one another in the name of friendship. But you have choices here.”

  She sat back, examining Emelovi closely. Emelovi struggled to keep from fidgeting. Finally Reisiltark spoke. “You still have choices. You can lock yourself in your room and feed your anger. No one will bother you. Or you can start doing what’s in your blood. You can lead your people.”

  Emelovi stared. “Rule?” she repeated.

  “Why not? You’re of royal blood. You legitimize this rebellion. The ahalad-kaaslane will support you. People will rally to your banner if you call them. No doubt your brother thinks that’s why you’re here. No one else can do it. The only question is, will you? Will you do what your father can’t and protect Kodu Riik from your brother and the Scallacians?”

  “Yes.”

  The word escaped before Emelovi could catch it. She covered her mouth with her hands, stunned at her audacity. But an eagerness burned inside her, steadying her pounding heart. Slowly she lowered her hands. “Yes. Yes, I will. Can I really?”

  “I think you have to. If you love Kodu Riik and want to serve your people. It’s going to be very ugly. There’s going to be a lot of fear, pain, and suffering. They’ll look to you for leadership. But it means leaning on Metyein and Kebonsat. They know about ruling and war. They’ll have to teach you. You’ll have to let them.”

  Reisiltark leaned forward and caught Emelovi’s hands between hers. Her skin was warm and calloused. “They can teach you a lot. Juhrnus can advise you too. He’s smarter than he knows. But trust yourself. Trust your instincts. Listen to their wisdom, but do what you know is right.”

  Emelovi’s ears rang, She studied their hands clasped together. Was she really going to do this? Was she really going to declare herself a challenger against Aare?

  Fear spiked through her, and for a moment she was paralyzed. But she forced herself to breathe, to grapple with her fear, and pushed it down inside. Reisiltark was right. For her father, for Kodu Riik, for herself: She had to face Aare. And defeat him.

  Chapter 14

  “My wards aren’t gonna hold against the nokulas. That’s a fact. And if the wizards come at us too . . . we have no choice.”

  “You keep saying that,” Reisil replied. The lack of inflection in her voice gave nothing away. She smiled. She was learning. And not just about politics and intrigue and leadership, but also about necessity.

  She thought of the Vertina. She knew exactly how the girl felt. Reisil had felt the same way when she’d learned of Sodur’s lies. Of Kaval’s betrayal. All for her own good, for the good of Kodu Riik.

  She remembered that sickening feeling in her stomach that wouldn’t go away. The burning humiliation of having been so completely fooled. Of having been manipulated so easily. And by someone you loved. And Emelovi did love Kebonsat. Or had. Reisil didn’t know if her feelings had turned to hate, the way Reisil had come to hate Kaval.

  She thought of Sodur. The bitterness was still there, but she didn’t hate him. She didn’t know how she felt about him. He was suffering his own horrors now. That was retribution enough, if she wanted it.

  “You smile. Does that mean you agree?” Nurema’s voice cut through Reisil’s musings.

  She turned her head to look at the other woman. It was hard to imagine that Nurema was one of Yohuac’s nahuallis. That she could work magic. Reisil remembered her as a contentious, sharp-tongued woman who didn’t suffer fools at all, and who told the painful, unvarnished truth. She was staring, her mouth pinched in a line, her forehead wrinkling as she lifted her brows.

  “Well?”

  “I smile because I am pleased to see you again. You have not changed.”

  Nurema barked out a laugh. “Sure, I have. My magic’s come back to me.”

  “So you’re a witch. Most people in Kallas thought that after about two minutes with you.”

  Nurema laughed again and slapped her thigh. “Ye always were sharper than most gave you credit for. And not so green as ye were, either. Y’ know enough to listen. Yer friends, too.”

  “Even Juhrnus.”

  “Even that one. Found his feet, didn’t he, and grew up. Not the bully he started out to be. Found out having balls didn’t have to make his head soft. His grandmother’d be proud. Shocked dead, mind, but proud.”

  Reisil chuckled and glanced behind. Juhrnus and Yohuac were just coming through the trees and up the steep ridge. Metyein was in no shape to ride, though his injury was not so great that it required magical healing. Not that Soka would have permitted it.

  “He’d blighted well better learn his lesson and remember it! I’m not going to be around to watch over him, and if he goes waddling out into the fray like the gibbering idiot he’s acting like and gets himself killed, Honor’s going to suffer for it. So let him suffer now!” Soka’s belligerence didn’t mask the concern he felt for his friend.

  “He does it again, I’ll curse him,” Nurema had said, crossing her arms and leveling that deadly gaze of hers at the injured man. “Shrivel up the bits of himself he likes best.”

  Metyein had acquiesced with his ears burning, offering chastened apologies. None of which pacified Soka, who remained at his bedside as Reisil’s little group wended their way to a rocky knob overlooking Mysane Kosk. Reisil wanted to see it for herself; she wanted to see it with spellsight.

  Reisil stretched. The sun was bright and the breeze hardly enough to rustle the leaves. The battle had been only two nights ago. It felt like a lifetime. She had few memories of that night. A blur of light, unending terror and pain. She hadn’t tried to summon any magic since Nurema’s healing. Nor had she tried her spellsight. It felt too good to be whole and safe with friends. But there was no time for a lengthy respite.

  “They’ll be comin’ agin. Soon. We need to anchor the wards to Mysane Kosk. To the power in the valley. Then the wards will match ’em, every step. Keep the wizards out, too. It’s the only way t’ keep Honor safe. No choice.”

  Reisil might have screamed at that. She was tired of not having choices. Not that she really disagreed. The wards could only hurt the nokulas if they attacked, which, as far as she was concerned, would be no more than they deserved. All the same, she wished she could explain it to them. That it was necessary to buy time until she could figure out how to stop the spell without killing e
veryone. Not that they would listen. Sodur had seemed sure of that.

  She wondered if they’d caught him yet. If the nokulas had overrun his mind. And if they had? She shuddered with a sudden chill. Should she have killed him, as he wanted?

  Reisil had no ready answer. But if the nokulas had taken him, had learned all he knew, then on top of all the other knowledge they stripped from him, they would also have learned what she intended to do. She rolled her eyes. That is, her plans as far as she knew them. Which wasn’t much. But at least the nokulas knew of the promise she’d made.

  Reisil shoved those thoughts away. There wasn’t anything to be done about Sodur or what the nokulas might learn from him. Or what they might do with that information. Her concern now was Mysane Kosk.

  She glanced ahead through the trees. At the top of the slope was an overlook that would allow her to see the entire city and valley. Or as much as could be seen through the occlusive mist. They pulled up, tying their horses to some gooseberry bushes. Reisil plucked a few of the green berries. They were tart, not quite ripe, but tasted good all the same.

  Reisil scratched the forehead of the copper-colored gelding she’d been given to ride as she untied her water bag. Indigo was in desperate need of rest and feed. When she and Yohuac and Soka departed from Honor in the morning, she wouldn’t be riding him. She patted her new mount regrettfully. It couldn’t be helped. Even if she used her magic to heal Indigo, it wouldn’t be enough. She couldn’t do for him what food and rest could.

  She took a long drink and slung her water bag back on her saddle. Then she joined the others to climb the last fifty paces to the top of the overlook. The ground was gravelly and loose, and by the time she reached the top, Reisil was damp with sweat and breathing quick and heavy. Nurema, Juhrnus, and Yohuac scrabbled up behind.

  Baku waited, his bony skull nestled between his forelegs like a dog’s. His sides bulged with the two deer he’d slain and eaten that morning. His eyes drifted open halfway. He shifted his wings and settled them. Saljane perched on his back. She leaped into the air, and Reisil caught her on her fist, raising her to the padded perch on her shoulder. The artfully designed gauntlet that protected her hand, arm, and shoulder from Saljane’s powerful talons had been a gift from Sodur. Reisil stroked Saljane’s chest, remembering the pleasure she’d taken in his thoughtfulness.