by Spurrier, Jo
Sierra searched every corner of the bag but there was nothing there. She upended and shook it, and then turned it inside out. Nothing. With growing desperation she emptied her new kitbag and laid all the gear out on the spruce, all pretence at secrecy forgotten. She checked everything, even though she’d handled each item only moments before. No rubies, no fiery glow. Lifting the rag out of her jacket, she teased the bracelets apart again, hoping against hope that she’d been mistaken.
There was a rustle of clothing as someone stood and then a shadow loomed over her. Sierra glanced up, but she’d guessed who it would be. Isidro was too clever by half, and too observant for his own good. He missed nothing, and had seen her distress.
He crouched before her, reaching down with his left hand to steady himself. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘One of the bracelets is missing,’ she muttered, shoving everything back into the new bag. All the contentment she’d felt had vanished like smoke in the wind; her muscles had drawn tense and tight and her stomach had clenched into a knot. The smell of bannock sizzling in fat on the stove was suddenly nauseating.
‘Are you sure? I saw Garzen cut them off the first night you were here. Cam put them both in with the witch-stones.’
Sierra turned away from him and shuffled to the storage section where her bag had been sitting, running her hands over the prickling spruce and searching for any glint of red or gold. Eloba, prodding at the bannock with a peeled twig, peered at her over the stove. ‘What have you lost?’
When Sierra didn’t answer, Isidro told her. ‘One of the ruby bracelets is missing.’ The tent fell silent and Sierra felt all their eyes on her. She gritted her teeth and pulled her sleeves down over her hands. Her power had been feeding off Isidro’s pain all day; it was as restive as a stall-bound horse and her nerves were whipping it up like a wind at sea. The last thing she needed now was for her control to slip and her power to spill.
Cam rose to help her while Isidro straightened the new bedding furs she had been sitting on, in case it was hidden within a fold.
‘I don’t see it,’ Cam said. ‘Have you taken anything else from the bag? Before now, I mean? With your eyes covered you might have dropped it without noticing.’
‘I haven’t so much as touched it,’ Sierra said.
‘No one has,’ Isidro agreed. ‘Not since you lot left, anyway.’
‘The last I saw it was when Brekan was poking around —’ Cam said.
Lakua gasped and clapped a hand to her mouth. As everyone turned her way the colour slowly drained from her face.
‘Laki?’ Cam said. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘Nothing, I just … I think I left something in the other tent.’
Lakua snatched up her coat on the way out, wrapping it tight around her shoulders as she crossed the snow to the other tent. Inside she found Brekan prodding at the coals in the stove. He glanced up as she entered and then quickly looked away.
‘Brekan,’ she said. ‘What did you sell to the blacksmith?’
‘What? Oh. Nothing. Just a bit of jewellery I took from the Raiders.’
‘What was it?’
He hunched over the stove. ‘A ring with a bit of blue glass.’
‘He paid you well for it then, if that’s all it was.’
She stayed where she was and after a moment he glanced up again. ‘What’s she gone and lost then?’
‘A bracelet. One with red stones. Really, Brekan, a ring? From the Raiders? When did you get it?’
‘Before we left, obviously.’
‘But when? Because I remember when Elli lost her bride-gift. She was so upset and you and Markhan swore you’d find something to replace it … only we never saw any gold from the raids, did we? Charzic and his lot always got first pick of the loot and they could sell that stuff to the smugglers for armour and weapons. If you’d taken it while we were still with the Raiders, you’d have given it to her.’
‘It was just a bit of tat,’ Brekan said with a shrug. ‘It wasn’t good enough for that.’
‘So the blacksmith overpaid you, then?’
Brekan stood. ‘Laki, what do you want? Why are you asking all these questions? Aren’t you glad you got to keep Markhan’s gift?’
She raised a hand to the brooch, still pinned to the inner seam of her shirt. ‘Of course —’
‘Then leave it alone!’
She narrowed her eyes.
Brekan had always been a thief. Markhan had a warrior’s heart, but Brekan lacked his size and was crafty rather than brave. He’d grown up surrounded by settlers who forced his family onto the poorest lands and forbade them from hunting in the best forests. And so he’d become a poacher. In the Raiders’ camp she’d been proud of his light fingers and his ability to snatch something here or there from Charzic’s stinking louts. But this was different.
‘Brekan,’ she said. ‘Did you take the bracelet?’
‘Of course not.’ He was crouching by the stove again and didn’t look around.
‘Brekan! Will you at least look at me?’
Reluctantly, he raised his eyes. And flinched.
Lakua covered her face with her hands. ‘Brekan, how could you? She’s a guest! By all the Gods, I’m so ashamed …’
‘Laki!’ he hissed. ‘Keep your voice down. And what’s wrong with it, anyway? We saved her life. She owes us. Greedy little bitch, keeping them all for herself.’
‘But she said —’
‘Don’t worry, I told the blacksmith he’d best break it up and sell the stones on the quiet. It’s only fair that we get our share of it. And I don’t see why you’re complaining. You get to keep Markhan’s brooch and your friend Balorica got his medicines. Where’s the harm?’
‘The harm? Brekan, you stole from a guest! Aren’t things bad enough without calling the wrath of the Gods down upon us? Bright Sun have mercy, Brekan, we have to put this right!’ She turned towards the door, and Brekan lunged forward to seize her arm.
‘Fires Below, Laki, what do you think you’re doing? You can’t tell them!’
‘They’ll work it out —’
‘No they won’t! For the love of life, Laki, keep your wretched mouth shut.’
‘If we don’t put it right, we’ll be cursed! Our luck has already turned bad, but with this as well … I’ve already lost Markhan, I couldn’t stand to lose you or Elli as well.’
‘So you’ll betray me? You ungrateful bitch!’
Lakua closed her mouth with a snap, and Brekan’s grip suddenly went slack.
‘Laki, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it —’
Wrenching the door flap aside, she ducked out into the night with Brekan on her heels. ‘Laki, wait! I’m sorry, please just let me explain —’ He grabbed her by the shoulder, hard enough to wake the memory of the day Markhan was killed. ‘Let go of me!’ she screamed and wrenched away.
‘Keep your voice down!’ he pleaded. ‘Laki, they’ll hear you —’
Too late. The door of the larger tent lifted and Cam leaned out with Eloba right behind him.
‘What in the Black Sun’s name is going on?’ Cam demanded.
In the main tent once again, Lakua blotted tears away with her sleeve and pulled her collar open to display the brooch. ‘I … I didn’t sell it,’ she whispered. ‘Brekan said he had some loot left over from when we were with the Raiders. I was so upset remembering Markhan that I didn’t even think about it.’
Eloba slipped an arm around her sister’s shoulders. Both of them were flushed bright red with shame. Sullen and indignant, Brekan sat across the tent from them, scowling at the spruce.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Lakua said to Sierra. ‘He’s not a bad man, I swear …’
Sierra plucked a twig from the floor and began tying it in knots. After a moment, she realised that Isidro was watching her and she threw it down again and pulled her fists into her sleeves. Her power was pulsing within her, humming just beneath her skin. Rasten had taught her some tricks to keep it under contro
l, but she’d never been all that good at them — that was why Kell had made the punishment bands, to give her an incentive to try harder.
‘You’re all jumping to conclusions,’ Brekan said. ‘I can’t believe my own wives would accuse me of stealing from a guest!’
‘You were poking through her bag yesterday morning before we left,’ Cam said to him. ‘I saw it myself, and no one’s touched it since then.’
‘But you were going through it before that. Garzen gave the bracelets to you when he cut them off. Seems to me that it could have gone missing then just as easily.’
‘All four were there when I wrapped them up,’ Cam said. ‘Isidro saw it, too.’
‘You’ve no right to be treating me this way,’ Brekan said. ‘You’d be starving if it weren’t for me bringing in game and finding a bit of coin once you’d frittered all yours away. You ought to be thanking me for making sure we could afford all those medicines Balorica needs.’
There was a reek of smoke in the air. Eloba cursed and scrambled to her feet. ‘By the Black Sun, the wretched bannock’s burnt.’ She snatched the pan off the stove and tipped it out onto a platter, charred and black. No one made any move towards it. There was no appetite left in the tent.
‘We should do a proper search of all the gear and supplies,’ Garzen said. ‘And then everyone go through their bags. If we don’t find it in the first round, everyone swap and search through someone else’s kit.’
‘I’ll have no part in this,’ said Brekan. ‘You’ve all decided I’m guilty anyway.’
With a shake of his head Cam turned his back on Brekan and crouched down in front of Sierra. ‘Look, are you absolutely sure?’
‘You saw me go through it,’ she said. ‘I’ll do it again if you like, but it’s not here …’ Her hands were trembling so badly they looked palsied.
Cam raked his own hands through his hair. ‘He could have sold the whole thing, I suppose.’
‘If he did, he was cheated,’ Isidro said, reaching over to pick up the bracelet resting on its bit of rag on Sierra’s knee. ‘These stones are worth a king’s ransom. The things you bought and the bit of coin you had left would only make up a fraction of their value.’
‘Don’t bother tearing everything apart,’ Lakua said. ‘He as good as told me he took it.’ She rose shakily and came to kneel at Sierra’s feet, reaching inside her shirt to unfasten the brooch. ‘I must apologise for my husband,’ she said. ‘With the Bright Sun as my witness, I swear I didn’t know he’d stolen from you. Please let me make amends.’ She placed the brooch in Sierra’s hand.
‘No!’ Sierra closed her hand and pulled it away. ‘No, I can’t … I mean, thank you, but I don’t want it. I never cared about the stones, I was just afraid they’d use them to find me …’
Lakua caught Sierra’s sleeve and looked imploringly into her eyes. ‘Please, you have to. He’s my kinsman. If we don’t help make atonement for his crime, the Goddess’s curse will fall on us, too.’
Sierra kept her hands closed. ‘By the Gods and all their children, I bear you and your sister no ill will. I’ll swear it on the altar of the first temple I reach … after all, the damage is done.’ She pulled her hands away and stood to face Cam. ‘We have to leave this place now.’
‘We can’t leave now,’ Cam said. ‘It’s late, we’re all weary and it looks as though the weather might turn. We were planning to move on in the morning and find fresh grazing for the horses. We’ll leave as soon as the weather allows.’
Sierra closed her eyes and suppressed the urge to scream at him. ‘Moving a few valleys over is not enough. If they find those stones they’ll follow your trail back here. They’ll hunt me down, however long it takes.’
‘Who will hunt you?’ Cam said. ‘Look, Kasimi, I understand you’re worried but they’ll never trace us back here. The village we went to is a hard day’s ride away. Even if the men hunting you do find those stones the trail will be long cold. Trust me, we’ve been doing this for a long time.’
His words did nothing to calm her. Her heart was pounding and her power was pulsing higher with each throb of her heart. It was going to spill over, and soon — she was past the point where she could call it back. ‘I need to get out,’ she said. ‘I can’t breathe in here.’
Cam snagged her coat off its peg. ‘Don’t go far. You don’t want to get lost once the snow moves in.’
‘Oh, go teach a crow to fly,’ she snapped at him and blundered out into the cold.
Cam brought Isidro a chunk of torn bannock. Eloba had done her best to scrape off the char but it still tasted burnt. ‘Nervy, isn’t she?’
‘Terrified, I’d have said.’ Isidro rested it on his knee while he rubbed the back of his neck. His hair was still standing on end, his skin prickled with goosebumps, though it eased now that Brekan had taken himself off to the other tent and the tension in the atmosphere was going down. For a while there he’d felt as though there was a summer storm brewing around them, and the air was tingling with energy, though thunderstorms were rare in winter.
‘Do you have any idea why she’s so afraid?’ Cam asked.
Isidro shook his head. ‘She doesn’t want to talk about it.’ He lowered his voice. ‘And I doubt that Kasimi is her real name. She jumps whenever you say it.’
‘You noticed it, too?’ Cam murmured.
‘Did you see any sign of people searching for her?’
Cam straightened. ‘They’re definitely searching for someone …’ He leaned over to his saddlebags. ‘They were looking at every woman who came into the village and searching the sleds. The captain had some cock-and-bull story about a woman who’d killed her child —’
‘Rhia would have said something if she’d had a child.’
‘That’s what Lakua said. Ah, here it is.’ Cam passed him a folded and crumpled sheet of paper and Isidro smoothed it against his leg. For a long moment they both gazed at the simple woodcut portrait.
‘Well,’ Cam said. ‘I guess it could be her. I didn’t think so when I first saw it but now that the swelling’s coming down …’
There was Mesentreian text printed under the portrait. The woman, Sierra, may be using a false name. She can be identified by scars on her back and around her wrists. A reward of 10,000 gold crowns will be paid for information leading to her capture.
The woman in the portrait stared out with wary eyes. As he studied it Isidro was certain he’d seen her somewhere before … but he couldn’t pin down the memory. When he tried, it skittered away from him like a leaf on the wind, but he was certain it had nothing to do with the stranger Cam had brought to their tent.
Then it came to him in a rush — the heat, the smoke, the sickening stench of burning hair and skin, a jumbled memory of blood and sweat and pain. The girl huddled at Lord Kell’s feet, her face hidden behind a curtain of tangled and sweat-streaked hair.
Isidro felt his good hand clench into a fist, crumpling the paper within it. Muscles twitched in his right hand, drawing a needle-stab of pain from the broken bones. With a deep breath he made himself relax and when he could trust his hand not to shake he folded the paper over and tucked it into his sash and then heaved himself to his feet.
‘Where are you going?’ Cam said.
‘Out,’ Isidro said, shrugging into his coat. He didn’t intend to sound so short but he still couldn’t bring himself to speak of what had happened while he was in chains.
Once again the belt defeated him and he had to let Cam knot it in place. ‘We’ll have to do something about that,’ Cam said, and then he lowered his voice. ‘What do you know, Issey?’
‘Nothing, yet.’
Outside the wind was blowing steadily, stirring the loose snow so that the landscape seemed to be veiled beneath a seething mist. The moonlight that had helped guide Cam and the others home was gone — the sky overhead was a black void of low cloud.
Isidro buried himself within his cowl and hood and turned to the west, in the opposite direction from the tent Brekan s
hared with his wives, going slowly to let his eyes adjust to the night.
Out in the darkness a blue light flickered, casting deep bars of shadow between the trees. It caught the scatter of falling snow and lit the drifting flakes like a myriad of stars.
Isidro headed towards it, forgetting for the moment just how weak he was. Beyond the circle of trampled snow around their camp site the crust on the surface of the unpacked snow was too thin to hold his weight. Once his feet broke through he sank to his knees and within a few dozen paces he was out of breath and sweating despite the cold wind working its way in at the neck of his coat. When he stumbled again and began to cough he realised what a stupid idea this was; it sickened him that even the smallest of challenges was more than his weakened frame could bear.
Ahead of him the light flashed again. Isidro buried his chin in the collar of his coat, trying to breathe the air warmed by his body and calm the racking cough. Through watering eyes he made out a silhouette moving towards him in the midst of the flickering glow.
She dropped to her knees at his side, using her body to shield him from the wind as the cough raked claws through his chest. ‘What are you doing out here?’ she shouted over the wind.
Her face was red from the cold and still a little swollen from her brush with frost. In a few days she would have recovered enough that he’d probably have recognised her anyway. Face to face, there was no doubt left in his mind.
The light flickered again, a blue glow spilling around them, but all Isidro could see were her eyes, deep blue like the sky at a summer’s midnight. In those oceanic depths, lightning struck, and for a moment he glimpsed the storm raging within her.
‘Hello, Sierra,’ he said.
Chapter 8
There had been a time when Ricalan had mages of its own — once they had been the third part of the triad that ruled Ricalan, beside the ruling clans and the priesthood.
It was hard to know just how different life would have been in those days. The histories said only that mages were an evil influence, poisoning everything they touched. Isidro’s mother had told him stories of life before the War of the Mages, tales told to her by her elders and handed down in secret to those who inherited the taint. She spoke of buildings and bridges built in a day, growing out of the ground like mushrooms; of floods and lava flows being turned away from villages, of fires extinguished and avalanches cleared. She told him that for centuries before the alliance with Mesentreia the mages had defended Ricalan’s coast against Raiders from the south.