Fearing the pain just made it worse. "Okay. Let's go."
It hurt. It hurt enough to make his head spin. But he got his legs under him somehow, and walked, albeit with a drunkard's slithering gait.
They went outside. The priest and Miyan waited with the horses. There were bundles tied behind each saddle, and rifles tied to the bundles. Three rifles and a shotgun.
"Where's my gun? I want my gun."
"Hold onto the saddle then." Ash left Kieran leaning against the bay mare, and rummaged in his pack. He produced the Hart and offered it. "I didn't reload it or anything; you only used one round out of that magazine, right?"
"Wish I'd got hold of a holster somehow." In the process of putting the gun in his waistband left-handed, he nearly fell, but recovered. "Where's yours?"
As an answer, Ash pulled up the back of his shirt. He'd stuck the revolver down along the furrow of his spine, the way Kieran carried his. "Holsters would be nice," he agreed. "This chafes.
Ready to mount up?"
"Hell no, but I'm gonna do it anyway."
While Kieran was struggling into the saddle, the priest got up on the gray, then bent to lift Miyan up in front of himself. So both horses would be carrying double, then. It would be slow going.
Ash got up behind him. This time there was no fascination in Ash's hand on the reins, no comfort in the practical embrace that would keep him from falling. It was just business.
"Where are we going?" That was the priest. "Have you given any thought to where we're going?
I hope it's somewhere suitable for a young lady, and not some bandit's encampment or something."
"Thought we'd start off with a little tour of historic sites," Ash answered. "Miyan, would you like to show us where you found that mosaic?"
She didn't understand. "Show what?"
"Auanit ikarae'ena sadi," Kieran clarified.
"Oh! Yes." She pointed; due south, toward a shade of darker color on the horizon that implied hills.
"Is there water on the way? Take us by a route that passes somewhere we can get water."
"Yes." She slapped at her guardian's leg and flapped her bare heels against the horse's sides. "Go, go now." As they began moving, she lifted her face with a smile. She was glad to be leaving.
Well, considering what Ash had said about the Watch burning out the village, it must have worn on her living beside its ruins. Kieran sure wasn't feeling broken-hearted about leaving that mission. Probably the priest wasn't too happy about it, though. Which reminded him -- if they were going to be traveling with the guy, it might be better to be on good terms. "Hey, priest."
What had the girl called him? "Ilder."
"Yes?" He sounded wary.
"Thanks for stitching me up. I owe you one."
The priest sniffed. "You owe us more than that. If you hadn't come, we wouldn't have to leave our home."
Ash said, "Isn't there something in the scriptures about God moving you where he wants you?
Maybe it was time for you to leave."
"In the company of a pair of murderous perverts? Somehow I doubt that's the divine plan."
"Perverts?" Kieran said dryly.
"He's got that on the brain," Ash said with a laugh in his voice. "We're really very nice once you get to know us. Aren't we, Kieran?"
"No."
"No, I guess you're right. We're jerks. Well, I like us, anyway." He chuckled in Kieran's ear, and no more was said for a long time.
As the day progressed, Kieran began to feel less sick, though he got more tired at the same time.
Mid-afternoon, he dozed off leaning back against Ash. This time, though, he didn't feel quite so safe doing it as he had right after he'd been hurt. Then, he'd been a rope's end snapping in the wind, grateful for any touch that might still his helpless whirling. Now he was only himself, weakened.
There was still plenty of light in the sky when they reached water, a tiny trickle of a stream that could be dammed with one hand, but Ash declared that they would camp beside it. Cold camp, since this plain was so open that someone might see a campfire from the road, though they must have gone ten miles today. When Kieran touched the ground, his legs went out from under him, and he couldn't stand even to move to the bed Ash made for him. So Ash moved the bed, and lifted him onto it by bits; feet, hips, shoulders. Moving hurt so much that he couldn't keep from making noises, and the sounds of his pain called a flood of soothing talk from Ash, which was annoying.
The especially irritating part was that it worked; the pain backed off a few steps, and he fell asleep. Woke long enough to drink some water, and again later to force down some food he didn't remember taking from the store: anise biscuits, raisins, and dried apples. Maybe supplies from the mission. Then he drifted in an aching stupor that wasn't sleep, shivering, listening to the others talking but unable to understand their words. Half-dreams came, twisting bitter dreams in which Father Ilder lectured him about Dalan's holy law against carnal contact between man and man, while dropping his pants and waving a five-throne note. Kieran tried to explain that he wasn't a whore anymore, he was big enough that he didn't need to do this, but realized all his life had been a dream and he was still a scrawny twelve-year-old on his knees in an alley behind the transients' hotel.
When something touched him, he came awake with a start.
"Hush, it's all right." Ash's hand over his hammering heart; blankets shifted.
Relief; he'd only dreamed that he'd dreamed growing up. He measured himself by Ash as the redhead climbed under the blankets with him, noting that their faces were side by side but Ash's toes were nudging his ankles. "I'm about four inches taller than you," he said happily.
"And about six degrees hotter. If your fever gets any higher, maybe I should be trying to cool you down instead of keeping you warm. I wish I'd paid more attention to this kind of thing. I'm sure I read a book about it somewhere."
"You and your books." Kieran smiled. A cough tightened his chest, but didn't make it out his throat. "Say, we're the tallest people we know. We're tall."
A sigh. "Yes, Kieran, we're tall. Go back to sleep now."
"Can't. Bad dreams."
"I'll make sure you don't have bad dreams."
"How?"
"I'll dream with you."
"You don't want my dreams."
A murmur in his ear. "Sleep, my Kai."
"Ki edei ou'ena ki," he commanded; "Ou'ena minoun," then remembered that Ash couldn't understand. He had closed his eyes, at some point, and when he tried to translate, his voice wouldn't cooperate. Tell me you love me. Say it again. That would have helped. His awareness of Ash beside him followed him into sleep, and in his dreams he was strong. Lost and confused, but strong.
--==*==--
Morning hit him between the eyes like a hammer. His headache astonished him. He couldn't move, it was so bad. Had to open his eyes by tiny increments; he could feel his irises struggling to contract. His nose was numb. Summer night's cold; the humidity of spring that kept the nights tolerable had ended.
I have a birthday coming up, he thought, and remembered when he'd been certain he wouldn't live to see twenty. Well, maybe he would and maybe he wouldn't.
There was a repetitive scraping sound happening near his head. It would go scratcha-scratcha-scratch for a while and then pause. Some kind of rodent? Digging? When he got his eyes opened, he rolled them without turning his head, and saw Ash sitting crosslegged beside him, bent over a pad of paper, writing things and then crossing them out. His shoulders were hunched high; he was in his shirtsleeves, neck and wrists rough with goosebumps. Both their coats were piled on top of the blankets that were tucked up around Kieran's chin.
When Kieran swallowed, preparatory to speaking, Ash instantly looked to him in concern. It was a pain to have to reassure him, but Kieran forced a smile to forestall questions about how he felt.
"Whatcha doing?" he whispered.
"Breaking code. Thirsty?"
"Some."
Reach
ing behind him, Ash brought out a canteen. The chill water made Kieran's headache spike.
"Rest a little longer. Those lazy people are still fast asleep. I want to get this before that priest wakes up; I don't have any excuse to keep it anymore. He'll get up his nerve to ask about it pretty soon."
"So tell him to fuck off."
"Well, it's his journal. It's really none of my business. I just took it to get some leverage. Turns out I didn't need it."
"Maybe it helped."
"Maybe." Ash bent over his notebook again; Kieran wondered where he'd got it. The book he'd stolen from the priest was laid out flat on the ground in front of him, and every few seconds he'd lean over to squint at it, lips moving. Then he'd scribble some more.
Several minutes later, Kieran gave a quiet groan of exasperation. "I have to piss like a racehorse.
No," he added when Ash started to set his book aside, "let me see if I can..." He threw the blankets and coats aside, grimacing as the chill struck him.
"Stop," Ash snapped. He pointed between Kieran's feet.
Raising his head, Kieran saw that there was a snake coiled there, tasting the air in sluggish alarm.
It was just a cricket snake, though. "Harmless," he said.
"Not poisonous?"
"No."
"Okay." Ash matter-of-factly grabbed the snake and tossed it away. "Want some help?"
"I think I'm all right." By aching stages, he got to his feet, rode out the rush of dizziness that resulted, and stumbled away.
Dealing with his pants one-handed took a long time. Getting them undone was hard; doing them up again was impossible. He dreaded asking Ash to do it for him, but in the end had to come back holding them closed with his hand.
"Um..."
Ash glanced up. "Oh." Without a hint of embarrassment, he held his pencil in his teeth, did up the buttons, then went back to his scribbling. He was no longer crossing things out. Now he was just writing, glancing back and forth between notebook and journal.
Easing back down into what was left of his warmth, Kieran pulled the blanket over himself.
"Looks like you got it. What's it say?"
"It's fascinating."
"And?"
"It took me longer than I thought. I'd hoped he was using a straight rotation, but he's a little smarter than that, and I had to do some trial-and-error. But he didn't make any effort to disguise the length of words, so --"
"Ash, what's it say?"
"Oh." Ash looked up, blinking as if coming awake. "He's been making a study of the native religion and spiritual system. This is a collection of legends and stories he got out of the villagers before the Watch came. No wonder they wouldn't convert; he was reminding them of their own faith while he was pushing the new one. But as an anthropological record, this thing is priceless."
"Nah, I bet I have all that same old-religion bullshit in my head."
"Bullshit? Kieran, this is your heritage."
"Huh. I don't have a heritage."
"Well, if you don't have a heritage, then why have you got a wind knot tattooed on your chest?
What were you and Miyan calling it -- auanit? It says here that that's the symbol of a rather scary god called Kan."
"Ka'an," Kieran corrected. "Yeah. He's a real asshole of a god. Kind you don't want to meet in a dark alley, you know?" He crawled his left hand up under his shirt to touch the tattoo, feeling the slight ridge of the inked skin there. "It's a Tama'ankan thing. My mom had a little one on her ankle, but her pimp burned it off. I guess I got this one to kind of spit on that guy's grave."
"So your tribe worshipped this god?"
"You don't worship Ka'an. You try to get on his good side, or you stay the hell out of his way.
Not my whole tribe, anyway, just the Ankan. The Suneater clan. He's supposed to like us specially, I guess because we're all nuts."
"Do you believe that Ka'an actually exists? I mean you personally?" Ash didn't seem concerned by the possibility; he asked with scholarly detachment.
"Not really. I have dreams about him sometimes, but that doesn't mean anything." He remembered the bums back in Burn River identifying him with Ka'an, and smiled. "We do kinda need a god like him, though. We Iavaians. Dalan's just not doing the trick for us."
Ash studied the book some more. "Let's see -- 'This god was considered responsible for certain types of dreams, especially true or prophetic dreams. Iyula claims that several times this god has mated with her in her visions, but as she is an inveterate opium-eater I did not bother recording her statements. He was also thought to bring storms, being the deity responsible for the severe thunderstorms of spring. Most of all, however, he was the god of violent death, and thus not to be invoked lightly.' And this is your clan's special friend?"
Kieran grinned. "You bet."
"Hey, what tribe is Miyan?"
"Beats me. I didn't ask. Miyan's a fairly common name; means cornflower."
"When she first saw that tattoo, she called you a holy man. At first I thought she must know you from somewhere, because the word had 'Kai' in it."
"Oh, kai'adiin. Yeah. Literally, that would be 'spirit horse'. Not really a priest, more like a medium."
"Why would she think that, if the wind knot is just a Suneater thing?"
"Dunno."
"I think I'll keep this book for a while after all." He put it and his writing materials away, his movements neat and precise, reminding Kieran of the way he'd been when they'd first met. He'd been so careful, then. So polite and nervous. He'd relaxed a lot, but some things were intrinsic, apparently. The way his pale fingers flicked through the contents of his pack to make room, worked the pack's buckle, tucked his pencil in his shirt pocket; the same tidy efficiency with which he'd handled his revolver when he'd surprised Kieran by reloading it on his own.
Kieran wanted to see more of that. Wanted to watch Ash repair clockwork or do surgery or something. The way Ash's hands worked soothed his eyes. In this moment the bird-boned narrowness of Ash's body didn't seem fragile; it was part of the design, streamlined, modern, a state-of-the-art machine. A very clever automaton powered by something quieter than steam, you could see the gas flames in his eyes...
"Damn," Kieran muttered. "I'm going delirious again."
Ash checked Kieran's temperature, made an unhappy face. "I don't know what it means when the fever keeps breaking and then rising again. I think it's better than if it's constant, though. You don't have to do anything, so just rest. You want your coat?"
"Yeah."
Ash arranged Kieran's coat around him, then packed up the bed. Kieran sat crosslegged and watched him put away the camp. He'd only done it once or twice before, but he was now doing it faster than Kieran would have. Quick learner. He woke Miyan and Ilder with sharp taps on their shoulders, made them get up before they were quite awake, had their blankets packed up before they'd finished blinking and scratching. While they drank water and ate handfuls of dried fruit, Ash saddled the horses. Kieran calculated that from the time Ash put the book away to the time when they were ready to leave took ten minutes at most.
He doesn't repeat his mistakes; now that I think about it, he's never had to be taught anything twice. I admire him. This is what it means to admire someone.
"Come on now, people," Ash was saying, gently but insistently. "You don't have to be coherent, just vertical. Mount up now, go on." He came back to get Kieran, helped him onto the horse, and got the mare moving before the others were quite ready.
"You needn't be in such a hurry all the time," the priest complained.
"Imagine that the White Watch are after us," Ash retorted. "Because they are."
--==*==--
They entered the hills a few hours later, and Kieran recognized where they were. The place he'd intended to go to was northwest of here, so they were sort of heading away from it, but he knew a route that followed the curve of these hills around and would probably be a better path than the road. Much slower and more difficult, but no one who
didn't know this area better than his own face would ever be able to find it.
For now, though, they followed Miyan's instructions. Feeling a little better now that the day's heat had replaced night's cold, Kieran chatted with her a bit. The priest joined in sometimes, mostly to instruct or chastise her. His accent was pretty good, and his grasp of the grammar excellent. His attitude stank, though. He was always monitoring Miyan for unladylike language or concepts, and wouldn't let her talk too much about what had happened to the village. He seemed to think it would distress her. Since she shuttled off immediately to other things, as if the subject couldn't hold her, Kieran didn't try to interfere.
The God Eaters Page 33