[Meetings 05] - Steel and Stone

by Ellen Porath - (ebook by Undead)

  Tanis shook his head; he was starting to think like Wode. The half-elf focused again on Kitiara and Caven. They were leaning confidentially on the table, starting their third pitcher of ale, talking furiously at each other. Neither appeared to be doing much in the way of listening.

  Tanis was in no mood to stay up all night listening to stories of camaraderie between Kitiara and Caven. Tanis and Kitiara's room at the Seven Centaurs, thankfully paid for in advance, seemed more inviting than a smoky tavern in the bowels of Haven. Kitiara knew how to get back to the inn on her own.

  He left the Happee Ohgr without saying good night.

  Caven grunted. "Tell 'im to put it on a bill. I'm good for it."

  Kitiara laughed too loudly, then watched with a lopsided grin as Caven winced. "You tell him, Mac-kid. It's time for me to leave." She stepped over a sprawled dwarf and headed for the door, avoiding the nastiest spots on the floor.

  "Where're you stayin'?" Caven shouted back, his face red. "You're not getting away without paying me, y' cheat!"

  At this time of night, in such a place, such epithets were routine terms of endearment. The few patrons still conscious paid little attention to what no doubt seemed to be a typical lovers' quarrel.

  "The Masked Dragon," she lied. "I'll see you there in the morning."

  "I'm going with you. It'll be a lot better than sleeping in the stable with Maleficent." While Kitiara wondered whether such a remark was worth a challenge, Caven leaned on his arms and straightened. When his focus returned, he gazed slowly over the room. "Where's Wode?" he snapped. "That lazy—"

  "Wode left an hour ago with the barmaid. Or rather, the blonde cow left and the boy followed."

  "Hot on her trail," Caven said, satisfied. "Good lad. Which reminds me . . ." He maneuvered carefully over the dwarf, nearly falling headlong when the sodden creature hiccupped and rolled over. The room stank of stale things—food, beer, and breath. "I'm going with you," he repeated. "To the Masked Dragon."

  "Tanis is already there. I doubt there's room for three."

  "Then tell 'im to leave," Mackid said mulishly. "I can flatten any elf any day."

  "Half-elf," Kitiara corrected. "And don't count on it."

  Caven gestured magnanimously, which threw him off balance. "Tell him to get lost, then go along with me." He winked. "I'll generously forgive your debt." He caught his balance against the doorjamb.

  Kitiara looked up, eyes skeptical but clearer than most others in the room. Caven Mackid was a splendid physical specimen of a man, but not exactly irresistible in his current state. And she wasn't tired of the half-elf yet.

  "I'm leaving, Mackid." She turned away and walked up the three steps to the street.

  It was raining. The cobblestones, slippery even in dry weather, were oily slick. Kitiara put one hand on the wall of the Happee Ohgr and moved quickly down the street, paying attention to her footing and trying to ignore the growing damp of her clothing. Behind her, she heard Caven's muffled oath as he emerged on the street into the wet weather. "Kitiara!" he bellowed. But she went on without stopping, rain trickling through her curls onto her face.

  At this time of night, practically no one was left on the streets of Haven but a few drunks and an occasional bored town guard. Kitiara took a sharp left turn and found herself in a side alley devoid of life and light; it led in the general direction of the Seven Centaurs and was made of packed ground rather than slippery cobbles.

  Caven appeared some distance behind her. "Kitiara?" He peered into the gloom.

  "Leave it, Mackid," she snapped, and doubled her pace. At that moment, however, thunder crashed and the drizzle turned into a downpour. She leaped into a doorway with an exclamation. Caven joined her moments later.

  The doorway was wide, protected, and dry. Locked double doors led into what was a warehouse of sorts. Caven stood motionless between Kitiara and the street, an air of expectation about him. She shivered, realizing that her short skirt and light blouse, while okay for freedom of movement and for attracting admiring stares in the Haven market, were less than adequate for a chilly downpour.

  She was soaked to the skin. Caven, on the other hand, was protected by his tightly woven wool cloak.

  She pointed. "You wear that cape even in the warm weather, Mackid?"

  Caven smiled. "It comes in handy."

  Suddenly Caven Mackid didn't look so drunk to her. What he did look was warm, and Kitiara found herself coveting his body heat as much as admiring his physique. She shivered again. "Lend me your cape, soldier," she ordered.

  "Cold?" He grinned again. Caven loomed over her, not quite touching her. She could feel his heat. "I can do more to warm you than lend you my cape, Kit," he murmured. His eyes were dark in his pale face.

  Kitiara leaned back against the rough stone wall of the doorway. Chill emanated from the rock. Out in the street, rain streaked down in needles.

  She drew a shivery breath. Then she nodded. Caven reached for her.

  Chapter 6

  Mage and Friend

  Smoldering blue eyes peered at Kitiara and Caven's refuge from a doorway across the street. The hood of a voluminous woolen robe, charcoal gray in the gloom, hid the woman's other features.

  Kai-lid Entenaka had been trailing Kitiara Uth Matar unseen since the swordswoman and the three men had left the minstrel show earlier in the evening. But Kai-lid was mindless of the chill and the damp; her robe, magically augmented, warded off discomfort. Her fingers traced the silken cord at her waist. She could cast a light spell, of course, to see what the couple in the entryway across the alley were up to, but Kai-lid didn't need such illumination. Memories of similar moments in her own marriage washed over her. Since the end of the marriage, she'd sought to keep those recollections away, but they returned at times unbidden, usually at night.

  She shook her head slightly to cast off the unwelcome thoughts. "What about the half-elf, Captain Uth Matar?" she whispered to herself.

  Kai-lid waited patiently until the rain eased and the two figures, adjusting their clothing and combing their rain-soaked hair with their fingers, finally moved out of the doorway. Huddled under the man's cape, they headed off together into the night. The mage waited until they were gone, then crossed the lane. Her fingers searched through the pebbles and dirt on the doorway's floor. Warmth still clung to the brick paving, but she discovered no other vestiges of the couple's presence. She was about to give up when something small and hard skittered away from her moving hand. Now she did intone a light spell, and a pale green glow illuminated the doorway, revealing her delicate features, the color of warm oak. She searched again and found a dark button wedged in a corner against a finger of broken brick. It was probably of tortoiseshell; polishing had failed to eliminate the whorls of the creature's carapace.

  The button was a small thing, but if it had belonged to Kitiara Uth Matar or that man, it would be enough for the mage's purposes. She held it in a clenched hand and slipped away through the dark streets. She kept to the shadows and met no one.

  The inkiness of the night might have slowed an ordinary woman, but Kai-lid's magic helped light her way as she left the town behind her and paced along a path that led northeast out of Haven. She didn't bother to probe the underbrush around her. Although Kai-lid was not a powerful mage, she had tricks to keep her safe if the need arose. The rain failed to bother her; the forest canopy, far above her head, was a thick shield.

  The path grew rockier, narrower, less packed by constant footfalls as she sped along. It led to Darken Wood, and it was the rare man or woman who ventured far in that direction.

  The closeness of Darken Wood and its fearsome reputation made her hermitage perfect from Kai-lid Entenaka's viewpoint. She made the two-mile trek from her cave to Haven once a week, often enough to trade the herbs she foraged for money or items she needed. She didn't require much.

  Kai-lid lived comfortably near the woods. She was no threat to its varied occupants, and that innocence, she believed, ensured her safety. Whe
n she'd arrived in the area, the dark forest's inhabitants had kept their distance. She'd sensed they were there, but they had not shown themselves.

  Naturally stories came to her from well-meaning—or just plain nosy—Haven residents with whom she did business.

  "There are souls of knights who fought and died centuries before the Cataclysm in those woods!" exclaimed a leatherworker when he found out where Kai-lid lived. "And creatures, neither dead nor alive, whose howling can drive a person mad. Move into town, woman!"

  His fingers moved agitatedly over one of Kai's sandals, repairing a strap, but his voice rattled on. The man had gone on and on about the denizens of the Darken Wood. Kai-lid had no doubt that much of what he said was true. At times when she entered the woods in search of herbs and other things useful for magic, it seemed to her the trees were not quite where they'd been on earlier forays. Occasional strands of wild songs—like Plainsmen's death cries—came to her on the wind. And some nights, hoofbeats clattered to a halt just out of sight of Kai-lid's home.

  "I have no fear of the dead. I've seen worse behavior from the living," she had said to the leatherworker. Her blue eyes had deepened to purple, and the questioner had had the common sense to change the subject.

  Kai-lid knew the man would have been aghast to learn that she hadn't even bothered to fashion a door to her home, a cave whose gray granite matched the hue of her woolen robe. Only a curtain of Qualinesti-woven silk covered the opening, and that covering was usually tied back. Kai-lid loved the feel of open air around her. Even in those few instances when hail or snow pounded the area, she let the wildness enter without restriction.

  Now, however, an unusual sound came to Kai-lid's ears. She halted and gazed around her in the dark. Nothing. She took a few steps, then heard it again—a clicking, as of a mandible opening and closing. A giant ant? It was difficult to know what was fact and what was fiction in the tales of Darken Wood. For example, spectral minions were rumored to prevent intruders. Yet Kai-lid came and went without molestation.

  With one hand on her spell-casting materials, she expanded her light spell and looked around her more closely. Kai-lid saw nothing noteworthy. A sycamore, common around here and five times the height of the tallest building in Haven, stood off to one side, casting a craggy shadow in the green magelight. An opening at the very bottom of the wide tree showed it to be hollow, and Kai-lid knew that a family of raccoons had taken up residence there. Bracken ferns stood up from the damp earth, fleshy fronds swaying in a breeze that Kai-lid felt now for the first time. The area was rich with the scents of fertile soil and dampness and plants, and Kai-lid could detect no hint of danger.

  Then she heard another sound—a thrumming, as of a huge heart, beating quickly but with each beat distinct. And a whooshing, as of deep breathing. Whatever caused those sounds was relaxed, that was clear from the pattern: inhale, exhale, pause . . . inhale, exhale, pause. She detected an odor—a dusty smell, like straw, not unpleasant. Kai-lid sensed a rustling, as of something shifting, something massive. Then the clicking again.

  Suddenly a voice came to her, making no sound but entering her mind directly, and Kai-lid knew who lurked in the trees.

  I am a fierce, evil monster come to eat you alive.

  "Stop it, Xanthar," Kai-lid answered wearily. "I'm too tired for games. I need to think, and I need to do it alone." All clicking, whooshing, and rustling stopped; the being was still. "And please don't sulk."

  The mage resumed walking and followed a curve in the path until she saw the mouth of her cave, its blue curtain still tied back, in a clearing before her. The shadow of a huge bird was hulked over at the top of another dead sycamore, rejection apparent in every drooping feather. The mage paused and surveyed the bird affectionately.

  Finally, as she knew it would, the soundless voice resonated in her brain again. It's time for your mindspeaking lesson, Kai-lid Entenaka. You're late. I've been worried.

  Kai-lid dipped her head and apologized. "I was in Haven, Xanthar."

  The voice in her mind carped, You know I don't like it when you go into Haven alone. I should accompany you.

  "We've had this discussion before, Xanthar," Kai-lid said calmly as she moved across the clearing and paused under the sycamore. "Your magic will diminish if you go too far from Darken Wood. Besides, giant owls sleep during the day, remember?" Her voice held suppressed laughter.

  But the other voice hadn't finished yet. And you should remember that I can go that far from the woods, at least. A few hours' lost sleep won't kill me. From what you've told me, no city is safe for you. You might meet someone from Kernen.

  "I did."

  The owl clearly was unprepared for this reply. After a shocked delay, it rose to its utmost height and flapped great wings, with a span twenty feet wide, against the night air. The dead sycamore creaked and groaned, and gouts of wind sent the mage's hood flying back and her hair whipping about her face. A screech rent the clearing, and Kai-lid, cringing, expanded her light spell until she could see the owl.

  "Xanthar, they didn't see me," she hastened to say. "I was careful." Despite her exhaustion, Kai-lid smiled at the giant owl.

  Xanthar finally folded his wings against his sides. He nestled his golden beak, the length of Kai-lid's arm, into the beige fluff at his neck. His face was speckled brown and gray and black, with a patch of white over his left eye, which gave him an endearingly rakish air, Kai-lid thought. Black and brown feathers were scattered across his creamy breast. His legs were feathered, too, right down to the mahogany scales on his strong feet, each toe tipped with a deadly claw. Xanthar's wings were mahogany-hued, verging into dark gray toward the tail. The wing tips were beige. He turned his plate-size eyes, each with a huge pupil of depthless ebony, toward the spell-caster and surveyed her with mingled concern and annoyance. His feet clenched and unclenched on the sycamore branch, betraying his agitation.

  Why are you smiling? This is serious. They could be seeking you.

  "I'm smiling because you are the most beautiful bird I've ever seen, not to mention the most beautiful I've ever talked to."

  You make me sound like a pet parakeet. Anyway, you should be practicing your mind-speaking.

  The creature's mind-voice was pettish, but Kai-lid knew he preened at her compliment; his lids drooped lazily across orange eyes and he arched his neck, affording Kai-lid a better view of his beaky silhouette. Suddenly exhaustion pulled at her. She sat on a broken limb near the bottom of the sycamore.

  You are tired.

  Kai-lid nodded.

  Whom did you see? Tell me in mind-talk; this is an opportunity for you to practice.

  Kai-lid leaned against the trunk and groaned. "You never give up, do you, Xanthar? One species wasn't meant to communicate telepathically with another species."

  / can. At least, he amended, I can with you.

  "You have special magic, Xanthar, powers I've not heard of in any others of your race." She paused. "Speaking aloud is so much easier for me."

  Typical human. The giant owl, still grumbling, stepped carefully from the top limb to a lower one, and then to another still lower, until he was only ten feet away, although still above her. He leaned over and examined her with softly glowing eyes. Whom did you see in Haven?

  "A captain in the Valdane's mercenary forces—Kitiara Uth Matar. And another soldier. I don't know his name, but I saw him often with the captain at the siege. They were with a half-elf tonight. Him I didn't recognize."

  Xanthar whetted his beak against his perch in annoyance. / should have gone with you.

  "You know that's not wise." Giant owls fetched great prices in the marketplace. Xanthar had lost his mate and their last clutch of nestlings to poachers years ago. The great birds mated for life, and Xanthar had remained solitary, in and near Darken Wood, ever since.

  What will you do now? When Kai-lid looked up questioningly, the giant owl continued. Will you go back to Haven to watch this Matar person and the other two?

  "I won't have
to." Kai-lid felt a question quiver in her mind, but no words. In reply, she held up the button. "I can watch them magically."

  Chapter 7

  A Gnome and a Jewel

  Tanis awakened before dawn the next morning to find Kitiara on her knees in the dark, retching into the empty chamber pot. He rolled over in bed and watched her wordlessly.

  "Either offer some help or stop staring, half-elf," Kitiara said. She sat up on the braided rag rug next to the bed. The movement sent her clutching her temples. "By the gods, I ache all over."

  "Too much ale." Tanis's lips curved.

  "Don't be a prude. I can drink any man under the table and wake up to fight a hundred hobgoblins the next morning." She moaned suddenly and leaned over the chamber pot again. Her skin was clammy

  and ashen.

  Tanis took his time swinging his legs out of bed. "You came in rather late." He kept his voice deliberately neutral.

  Kitiara, still kneeling with her head down, surveyed him with bloodshot eyes. "I thought you were asleep. Anyway, I had to put Caven Mackid off our trail."

  "Oh?"

  "Get me a blanket, will you? I'm freezing."

  Tanis didn't move. "Perhaps you should have worn something to bed," he said laconically instead.

  "And perhaps you should—"

  "Mmmm?"

  Kitiara didn't finish the sentence. Instead, she crawled over to the bed and, when Tanis shifted aside, hoisted herself back in. "By the chasms of the Abyss, I've never felt like this. Maybe I've caught something." She collapsed with a groan, facedown on the feather mattress.

  "And maybe you're getting too old to drink like that."

  "That's fine advice from someone who's over ninety." She reached back, still facedown, and pulled the down comforter up over her head. The bedding muffled her voice. "I spent the time telling Caven all sorts of lies to put him off our track. We can sneak out of town and never see him again. He thinks we're staying at the Masked Dragon, the gullible idiot."