by Tanya Huff
Because Magda had emphatically refused to give her word that she wouldn’t attempt an escape during the service, bard and priest had decided she’d best stay right where she was. Gerek had remained with her out of loyalty; or possibly guilt, he wasn’t entirely sure.
They’d be leaving in the morning.
Although he still wasn’t exactly certain sure how they were going to accomplish it, he and Bannon would be taking an unwilling Magda and Vree back to Elbasan. It wasn’t likely to be a pleasant trip.
Things were happening here that he didn’t understand.
Digging his fingers into his beard, he scratched along the edge of his jaw and wished there was someone around he could talk to, someone who didn’t already have their mind made up. Scowling, he began to pace as well, falling into the cadence still being drummed out up above. Apparently, he was going to have to talk this over with himself.
“All right, Maggi’s positive Vree and Gyhard can only be healed by confronting Kars. Do I believe her? Do I have any reason not to believe her?” If he accepted that his little sister was a new and powerful kind of healer—and considering that he’d been her first patient he’d be a fool if he didn’t—then he also had to accept that she knew what she was talking about.
Next point.
“Do I want Vree to be healthy and whole? Of course I do.” Perhaps he wasn’t as much in love with the lovely, dangerous Southerner as he had been, but he still wanted only the best for her.
Gyhard was a thornier question. Gerek, as much as he hated to agree with Bannon, would’ve preferred Vree had let Gyhard float off into the great beyond back when they’d found themselves a body short. As she hadn’t, and as Gyhard was now a very important part of Vree’s life, Gerek supposed it would be best for Vree if Gyhard were healthy and whole as well.
“If a bard, say Karlene, gets to Kars first, then according to Maggi, Vree will never be whole.” He didn’t much like where this was heading.
Holding out his hands, palm up, Gerek lifted first one, then the other. “So I weigh Her Royal Highness’ desire to have Vree and Magda returned to Elbasan against two lives.” He sighed. “Three if Maggi thinks she’s going to heal Kars as well.”
While he stood there, staring at his makeshift scale, searching for an answer, a breeze from the open window brushed a chill across the back of his neck. Lifting a hand to rub at the gooseflesh, he wondered if it was from Annice. “Under the circumstances, she’d be more likely to send a full blown gale.”
Find your sister. He chewed over her original message. It wasn’t like Annice to be so unspecific.
“I’ve found her, Nees.” His mouth twisted up into a wry grin. “Now what am I supposed to do?”
Believe in her.
The answer came from his heart.
Gerek nodded slowly, remembering. “All things being enclosed, that sounds like good advice,” he said at last. Grinning broadly, he bounded up the stairs two steps at a time.
When he threw open the door to the priest’s spare room, he found his sister tying the last knot in a rope made of torn bedsheets. “Good, you’re ready to go,” he said matter-of-factly. “Although this is very ingenious, we’ll make better time if we take the stairs.”
She glared at him, backing toward the tiny dormer window. “What do you mean, we? Is this some kind of a trick? Because if you think I’m going to go quietly back to Elbasan with you, you’re wrong.”
“Trust me, Maggot, I don’t think you’ll go quietly anywhere. But as it happens …” He paused and spread his hands, the giddy feeling of relief that had come with making what he knew to be the right decision suddenly leaving him. “As it happens, Maggi, I think you’re right. I think you and Vree and Gyhard need to get to Kars before the bards Sing him into or out of or all around the Circle. It’s the only way to end this thing once and for all.”
With a crow of joy, Magda scooped her bulging saddlebag up off the floor, launched herself into his arms, squeezed him once, and ran for the door. “Come on! We’ve got to get Vree and get well away from here before the service ends.”
“The kigh will still be able to find us,” Gyhard reminded her as together they raced down the stairs.
“It doesn’t matter if they know where we are,” Magda told him, “as long as they don’t catch us.”
“You mean, catch you again?”
She punched him on the arm. “You looked just like Father when you said that. What have you done with Bannon?”
“Nothing at all. Bannon found someone willing to spend the festival giving thanks for getting laid.”
“With a stranger?”
“He makes friends fast when he has to. Do you know what they’ve done with Vree’s weapons?”
“All her stuff’s in the kitchen.”
“Good. I’ll get my stuff and meet you there. See if you can find some journey food; if the bards stay here, there has to be some around.”
A few moments later, saddlebags abandoned for a pack with shoulder straps, Gerek carrying Vree’s weapons as well as his own, the two of them ran out the back door of the priest’s house and toward the shed at the edge of town. Neither them looked back to see a shadow move away from the building and follow them.
* * * *
*… actually, Second Quarter Festival is the fertility festival because that’s when things are blooming and, well, ready to be fertilized. First Quarter Festival celebrates new beginnings.*
*Don’t new beginnings usually come after fertilizing?*
She felt him smile—felt herself smile, knew it was him. *I’m just explaining how it is, Vree. I didn’t make it up.*
*So what are they singing about now?*
He listened for a moment. *Right now, they’re giving thanks for colley.*
*For what?*
*It’s a vegetable. I don’t think you grow it in the Empire.*
*You’re putting me on.*
*Afraid not.*
*They’re giving thanks for a slaughtering vegetable?*
*Uh-huh.*
*People in this place have too much slaughtering time on their hands.* Fingers laced behind her head, Vree lay on the pallet and stared up into the darkness. The priest had brought her food twice, the bard and Bannon standing by in case she tried something. All three of them had obviously wanted to talk but just as obviously couldn’t with the others around. She had no idea what the priest wanted to talk about—who ever knew with priests? The bard wore an expression she’d grown used to during her time at the Hall and had there not been an audience would no doubt have blurted out the familiar, “You really do have two kigh!” Bannon had stared at her with an intensity that evoked unwelcome memories of the heat that used to burn between them.
*He needs me,* she’d said when they were gone.
*So do I,* Gyhard reminded her. *The question is, which of us do you need?*
*I’ve made my choice* she’d snarled and stopped herself just in time from adding, leave me alone. Because that was the one thing she didn’t want.
The distant singing changed and Vree wondered if they’d moved on to more important things, like maybe sausage and onions. *Gyhard, if you weren’t locked up here, would you be there?*
*You mean at the Center, for the festival?* He hadn’t been to a Quarter Festival since the brigand had murdered his first body and he’d murdered the brigand in turn. A long time. A very long time. *I don’t know.*
*Nothing to be thankful for?*
*It’s not that. It’s just the festivals are a part of a past I never expected to re …*
*Be quiet.*
A sudden flash of insight and he understood what her question actually meant. *I didn’t mean that I’m not thankful for you and—*
*Shut up, Gyhard! There’s someone coming.* Rising to her feet in one swift motion, she faced the door, head cocked slightly to one side. *It’s Magda and Gerek. They’re coming to let us out!*
*You can tell that from their footsteps?*
*No, I can hear Magda tal
king.*
*I can hear exactly what you hear and I don’t hear … oh.*
Relief at their approaching freedom making her feel a little light-headed, Vree grinned. *Given enough time, you may learn to listen.*
“Vree?” A familiar voice whispered her name through a crack between two logs. “Gerek came to his senses and decided to help. We’ll have you out in a minute.” The voice shifted direction. “What’s taking so long?”
“It’s dark, and I can’t see well enough to undo the tie down.”
Madga snorted, and Vree knew exactly what expression she’d be wearing. “So cut it! Honestly, Ger!”
Although there was only a crescent moon riding low in the sky, the almost total lack of light in the shed made the yard seem bright in comparison. With Gyhard’s help, Vree managed to prevent a defensive response to Magda’s enthusiastic hug.
“Where are my knives?” she asked urgently, putting the younger woman to one side.
She could see the flash of Gerek’s teeth in his beard. “Don’t I get thanked first?”
The slam of a throwing dagger sinking into the shed answered his question.
“You knew he was there.” Gerek moved to stand in front of Vree and found himself shoved firmly out of the way.
Hands empty and held out from his sides, Bannon faced his sister across the yard.
Gerek reached for his sword. A slim brown hand clamped around his wrist like a vise, and the bit of blade he’d managed to draw was forced back into the scabbard.
“Not your fight,” Vree told him in Imperial, so Bannon could understand. “This is just between the two of us.”
“Don’t you mean the three of us,” Bannon sneered.
“Gyhard isn’t involved in this.”
“Oh, he slaughtering well is, but how much is my sister involved, that’s the question!”
She stepped forward, away from the shed, away from Gerek and Magda. “Don’t be an ass, Bannon. I’m in control, not Gyhard.”
“Sure you are,” Bannon scoffed. “That’s why you walked away from everything you’ve ever known. Why you walked away from me.”
“Things change.”
“Not that much. Not all at once.”
If he couldn’t remember the choices he’d made while in her body, she couldn’t forget. “It didn’t happen all at once,” she said softly. “What do you want, Bannon?”
“I told you. I’m taking you back to Elbasan with me.”
Gerek shook off Magda’s cautioning grip and, hands carefully away from his weapons, moved to stand by Vree’s side. “Bannon, I think they’re right. I’ve listened to what Magda has to say and I think they have to get to Kars before Karlene does.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass about Kars, or Karlene, or your sister, or you,” Bannon told him with a pleasant and entirely false smile. “I want my sister back.”
“Taking her to Elbasan won’t change anything. In fact, it could make things worse. It could mean she’ll never get rid of Gyhard.”
*Nice to be wanted.*
He sounded so insulted, Vree fought a completely inappropriate urge to giggle—then scowled when she realized what she was doing.
“I thought Her Royal Highness ordered you to bring your sister back to Elbasan, Your Grace,” Bannon reminded Gerek, although his eyes never left Vree’s face. “Or does duty and honor mean nothing in this slaughtering country?”
“You let me worry about that,” Gerek snarled. The hand that had begun to drop to his sword hilt suddenly jerked up as Magda grabbed the back of his jacket and nearly yanked him right off his feet.
“Have you got a death wish?” she demanded, using her whole body to shove him up against the rough logs of the shed. “Or are you so stupid you actually think you could survive a fight with either of them?”
Gerek’s mouth opened, then closed again as he took a good look. Neither Vree nor Bannon had drawn a weapon. There was no need. They were weapons. Although they stood perfectly still, mirror images of each other, something about them screamed of an incredible, deadly potential for movement. They were like bowstrings, pulled taut and waiting to be released.
The skies had cleared. Moon and stars gave light enough to throw Bannon’s shadow almost to Vree’s feet and to spill hers back into the deeper shadow of the shed. The songs of the festival seemed to be coming from a very long way away.
“What do you want, Bannon?”
*You asked him that already.*
*I know. He didn’t answer.*
*What are you talking about? He wants to take you back to Elbasan!*
*That’s not the answer.*
“What do I want?” he whispered mockingly. “I want you back.”
With his face in shadow and his voice so low, he might have been Commander Neegan; he might have been their father. Whom she’d killed. “And what I want?”
“You can tell me what you want once that slaughtering parasite is out of your head.” As he charged, Vree flung herself into the air. They hit the ground together with her legs wrapped around his neck, his eyes wide in disbelief. Half a dozen heartbeats later, she rose to one knee and checked to see that he was still breathing.
“That’s it?” Gerek asked, peering from one to the other as though he were searching for an answer. “It’s over?”
Breathing heavily, Vree stood and stared down at her brother, arms crossed tightly under her breasts. “The thing to remember when fighting an assassin,” she told him bleakly, “is that you only get one chance. It’s either over very quickly, or you’ve lost.”
Gerek shook his head, still finding it hard to believe that anyone could move so quickly. “He never really thought you’d fight him.”
“Yes, he did.” Vree stepped back as Magda dropped to her knees by Bannon’s body. “He just thought he’d win.”
“You do realize that it’s the next thing to impossible to shut off the blood to his brain without crushing his windpipe,” Magda muttered, fingertips dancing over Bannon’s throat.
“The next thing to impossible,” Vree repeated changing the emphasis. “The first four people I tried it on died instantly, the next two choked to death slowly …”
Gerek, who’d been reaching out to comfort her, let his hand drop slowly back to his side.
“… the seventh survived the first attempt but not the …”
*Vree. That’s enough.*
*I’m cold.* She reached for him, and he came. *I don’t know who I am anymore.*
*Most of us never do.*
*How do you stand it?*
*By holding on tightly to anything you’re sure of.*
Don’t leave me.
This time, Gyhard realized, she might have acknowledged the plea, but Magda stood and pressed two fingers against the back of Vree’s wrist and they both fell silent.
“He won’t stay unconscious for very long, you know. What do we do now?”
Gerek pushed past them and stuck his hands in Bannon’s armpits. “We lock him in the shed,” he grunted, dragging the smaller man backward into the building, “then we get out of here.”
“He’ll follow us.”
“Not until someone lets him out.” Gerek took one last look at Bannon’s face, the pale oval just barely visible in the spill of light through the open door. He frowned, sighed, and pulled the door closed. Any questions would have to wait. “He has a plan for getting rid of Gyhard.”
“What?”
*What?*
“Did he tell you that, Ger?”
“He told all of us. He said Vree could tell him what she wanted once that slaughtering parasite was out of her head.”
Magda rolled her eyes. “That just means he wants Gyhard gone, not that he has a plan to get rid of him.”
“No.” Vree shook her head, the motion so minimal only Gyhard was sure of it. “Gerek’s right. He was hiding something, and that’s probably it.”
“But in order to separate you and Gyhard, he’d need someone who can Sing the fifth kigh,” Magda
protested. “And none of the bards, even though they consider Gyhard an abomination, would risk it.”
“None of the bards in Shkoder,” Vree said slowly. “But now, there are bards in the Empire.”
“No. Even Imperial bards wouldn’t do that. You just don’t understand bards.”
Vree lightly caressed Bannon’s throwing dagger still buried hilt deep in a log just to the right of the shed door. It was heavier than the one she’d lost; weighted for her brother’s hand, not hers. “You don’t understand the Empire,” she said quietly.
Magda and Gerek stared at each other in silence for a long moment, a breeze stroking the hair back from their faces.
Finally, Vree turned, her expression unreadable. “Let’s move. We still have to get to Kars before Karlene.” Leaving Bannon’s dagger where it was, she began buckling on her weapons.
“What about …” Gerek gestured at the shed.
“Maybe when he wakes up, he’ll realize I’ve made my choice.”
*Maybe pigs’ll fly, but I doubt it.*
They’re changing each other, Magda thought, watching Vree respond to Gyhard. She could feel the edges of their kigh, not so much overlapping as meshing, creating a new, shared area that was a part of them both. If this combining of kigh was a result of their feelings for one another—much the way echoes of her mother’s kigh appeared in Stasya and Stasya’s in her mother—then that was good. If, however, it was a result of their situation, then that wasn’t good. But how could Vree talk about her feelings for Gyhard when he could hear every word? How could Gyhard speak of Vree? I wish I could talk to them one at a time.
“So how do we find Kars?” Gerek asked, shrugging the pack up onto his shoulders. “Where do we start?”
“We go east.” Magda pointed along the bulk of the mountains, her finger indicating the heart of the star cluster Shkodens called the Sun’s Herald. “I overheard Marija and Celestin talking. Jazep died …” She swallowed and tried again. “Jazep died in a mining settlement called Fortune that’s due east of here.”
Her night sight by far the best, Vree led the way across the graveyard, chance returning them to almost the exact place they’d been captured. At the edge of the trees, she threw aside a lifetime of training and looked back—although she had no idea of what she was looking for.