The Rose Sea

by S. M. Stirling

  "Yes, master?" it gurgled.

  Darkist dripped the blood into the water, on the monster's head. The thing he'd made absorbed the blood and shivered with delight.

  "Thank you," it said, and Darkist laughed.

  "She's yours when you find her. But you must find her. Like calls to like," the old man commanded. "Her blood is now your blood, and the scent of her will take you to her, no matter how far she may flee."

  "Yes," the creature agreed.

  Darkist smiled slowly. A pleasant idea occurred to him.

  "Once you have left An Tiram, you need not hurry to her. Feed and grow great. Devour all who cross your path. Spread terror and destruction, so that when you find her, you will be huge and mighty and fearsome. Let her know real dread before she dies."

  Again the creature said, "Yes, master."

  Darkist waved his hands over the pool in which he sat, and felt currents swirl around him as the creature began to move. He shooed the monster on its way. "Begin," he whispered. "Go now. Find her. Make an end of her."

  Konzin stood in hastily erected stocks out in front of the ranchhouse. He'd been there for several days, with the sun burning down on him during the day, and the cold night air chilling him once darkness fell. They d given him a sip of water from time to time—and one of the house girls had shoved bread in his mouth, though she'd been rude about it, and told him she hoped the missus ripped his eyes out with her bare hands before they killed him.

  He'd had a bad time of it. He'd soiled himself early on, and the ranch hands, walking past carrying tack and crops, never failed to take an extra step out of their way to kick him.

  He was afraid. He knew he was going to die, but he didn't know when, or how. Thoughts of that "when" and "how" occupied his every waking moment.

  He was positioned so that everyone who came up the road could see him, standing there in his shame. The only advantage of his position was that he could see people coming up the road before anyone in the house knew they were on the way.

  Karah's parents had come out of the house to greet Jawain Grenlaarin when he came riding in on one of his fine cobs. The three of them talked in low tones near Konzin; at intervals, they glanced in his direction, and when they did, their expressions grew cold and hard.

  By being very still and concentrating, Konzin could make out most of what they said.

  "—and she was alive a couple days back," Jawain was saying. "I had a man in place in Derkin—doing something else for me, but that didn't work out. It's of no matter now. He was pressed in the same bunch as Karah—from the inn. Told him to keep an eye on her, and even when they shipped out, he was right there. Course, she did all right on her own."

  "They shipped out!" Karah's mother's voice rose.

  "On their way to Tarin Tseld to war on Darkist I followed them until the storm at sea, keeping two, three spellcasters going all the day and night. But after the battle, we lost them. Something stopped our spell." He shuddered, and Konzin got the impression that the something had been too terrible for words.

  The trio's voices dropped again, then rose as Jawain Grenlaarin looked in the herdsman's direction and said, "He's the bastard killed my Brunnai?"

  "Can't be sure it was by his hand she died," Iano said softly. "If not, it doesn't matter. It was by his plan."

  Jawain's expression made Konzin wish he'd never thought to steal the ranch. "Right enough. Then he'll pay," the man said, and turned away. The ice in his voice sent shivers along the herdsman's spine.

  Iano looked at his wife and said, "'Course, there's the matter of the note."

  Jawain said, "They find it yet?"

  Misa's voice could have sawed through stone wall. "Aye, they found it. In the hands of a couple of kid beggars who said they'd stolen it. Like as not they were paid t' say that, but then, you can't catch the little vermin and beat the truth out of 'em in Derkin—'s against the law."

  Jawain muttered something that Konzin couldn't catch, no matter how hard he tried. Then,"—should hang him now."

  Misa's back was to Konzin. He couldn't hear what she said at all—he only caught the anger in her soft reply.

  Iano said, "We have to find out if Karah's still alive—though the traitor can't tell us a bit about that. But maybe he can tell us who he gave the note to, and why?"

  Jawain's expression as he looked over Konzin became calculating. That look frightened Konzin even more than the angry one. Iano glanced over at him too, and his eyes bore the same cold, terrible craftiness.

  "Torture?" Iano asked in conversational tones.

  Jawain's mouth slowly—horribly—stretched into a smile. "Oh, for certain."

  Not torture, Konzin thought. He was a rugged man—but he had no illusions about his ability to withstand the things the Grenlaarins would do to him. He rolled his swollen tongue over his cracked lips and croaked, "I'll talk."

  Three faces turned to stare at him, wearing matching expressions of disbelief.

  "Sure you will," Jawain said. "After we've hurt you."

  "No!" Konzin shook his head wildly. "No! I'll talk now. I'll tell you anything you want t' know." He babbled, "I didna mean for things t' turn out the way they did. I didna mean for anyone t' die." He felt the heat of a tear roll down his cheek.

  The Grenlaarins looked uncertain.

  Konzin pressed his slight advantage. "I meant to steal the money—by the Three, I know I was evil t' do so, but I've wanted for so long to have horses of my own. I thought with the money, I could buy my own spread and…" He hung his head "… and buy a stud and one or two Grenlaarin brood mares from you for cheap—when you… when you couldn't make taxes."

  "So I hired a few men t' 'rob' us when we left the city. Their pay was t' be half the note. But then nothing went right Madine Karah got pressed, and gave me t' money t' bring t' you, so if I'd have been of a mind, I could have stolen it all. But I didn't want t' leave t' Madine trapped in t' army. I tried to find the men I'd hired, to tell them the deal was off, but they were gone. We all rode back here, fast as we could—I was hoping we would miss them. But they waylaid us—followed us. When I told them to stop, they started killing people. They left me alive and gave me my half of the money… but… but that was only so they could blackmail me. They told me I had to hire them for my ranch, or they'd come to you and tell you lies about me."

  Misa and Iano stared at each other, eyebrows raised.

  For a moment there was silence.

  "I think we should still torture him," Jawain said.

  "Ye-es," Iano said, but he didn't sound certain.

  "I can tell you where to find the killers," Konzin said "And how many there are."

  He studied the three Grenlaarins. Iano and Misa seemed swayed by his story; they hovered with doubtful expressions upon the precipice of uncertainty. Jawain, however, was still plainly unconvinced. He stood with his arms crossed over his broad chest, glaring down at Konzin.

  "So tell us," Jawain said at last.

  Konzin said, "There are nearly twenty of them, if the band has stayed together. All of them are seasoned ranch hands, most from up around Olmya. Most are Tykissian, though a few are Krevaulti. The leader's name is—Rale Gonstad."

  He dropped that little bombshell as casually as he could The Gonstads and the Grenlaarins had an ongoing feud over the quality of the horses each house bred The Grenlaarins were well ahead in public opinion—so the idea that a Gonstad was behind the treachery was certainly something they could fathom. There had been killings between the extended families before.

  Indeed, Jawain sucked in air through the gap in his front teeth, and beside him, Iano's fingers clenched and unclenched Both men stared at each other, and Jawain said, "Gonstads—"

  Misa said, "It all adds up. Damnall—we should have known…" She looked down at Konzin. "Why didn't you tell us this? Why did you make up a story?"

  He hung his head "Because I didn't think you'd believe me. And I was so ashamed that I couldn't save Brunnai, or the hands."

&nb
sp; Iano was the next to speak, and lie spoke, not to Konzin, but to Jawain. "Meet me by morning on the north road, with every hand you can muster. We'll wage war on the damned Gonstads and have our revenge for Brunnai."

  "The County Justicar—" Jawain began.

  "May the One take the Justicar!"

  "I meant that we'll have to be careful, breaking the Imperial peace."

  Misa nodded. "I wish I could ride with you—but the house girls and I will mind the stock until you get back. Bring us their heads on pikes," she added.

  The three Grenlaarins turned to leave—and then Iano turned back. "Don't leave him in the stocks," he told his wife. "Give him the run of the outer buildings while we're gone."

  Misa nodded. "Shall I permit him to stay in his old rooms?"

  Iano said, "Until we get back, yes. He'll have to make us a restitution, but I've no stomach to kill a man who was double-crossed by Gonstads." Then Iano turned to Konzin. "If you run away, man, you'll never know another minutes peace in the rest of what will be a short and terrible life."

  Konzin nodded his understanding. "I'll be here when you get back," he said, and his voice rang with conviction.

  Why wouldn't I be? he thought, as Misa ran off to get the keys and Iano and Jawain ran for the stables. By the time you fools get back—if you survive the wrath of the Gonstads—my men will be here and the ranch will belong to me.

  Karah woke to someone shaking her shoulder and shouting, "Tide's receded enough we can make a run for it." It was the law-speaker who woke her. Bren and Eowlie were moving over by the embers of a dying fire. The sky was grey and overcast, the clouds scudding near the ground, and tatters of fog still hanging on the water and into the shrubs.

  She remembered where she was and how she came to be there. She regretted waking.

  Karah sat up, and immediately her nose and cheekbones began to throb. Sleep had been a wonderful reprieve from pain—but the other three were already slinging their meager belongings into two packs. Karah realized they intended to use Windrush as a pack horse.

  There was something she needed to remember about Windrush. She closed her eyes to think about this, and the pain in her head grew worse, until she gave up trying to think at all. She rose unsteadily to her feet and struggled to Bren's side.

  "I'm ready," she said. She didn't add that she felt ready to die, though she thought it She was a country girl, and not about to be shown up by a citified law-speaker.

  Bren looked at her and wasn't fooled. "You'll ride," he said "You won't be able to keep up otherwise."

  She started to argue, but Bren had waved to Eowlie, who brought Windrush over. Bren gave Karah a knee up, and she sat astride the horse, swaying slightly. The others put their makeshift packs in front of her, balanced over the horse's withers.

  "Fine," Amourgin said. "Let's go now. We have no idea how far we'll have to travel, and the Father has nearly caught the Mother and the Child The next tide will be severe."

  They took off across the pebbled beaches at a trot.

  From off to their left, someone shouted, "There they are!" The shout was nearly lost under the cries of the shorebirds and the distant roar of the surf—but the cheer that followed wasn't.

  Karah looked left when she heard that ragged cheer, and saw a thin line of people running towards her from a tiny, scrub-covered island.

  "Survivors!" Bren shouted, and his face lit with a radiant smile.

  The four of them came to a halt and waited. Karah couldn't help counting the runners. There were thirty of them—and as they came toward her, she realized they were running in formation, many of them with muskets or halberds over their shoulders.

  "Ddrad!" Bren bellowed as he recognized one of the runners; he sprinted across the flats and tidepools to meet them. "Father Solmin!"

  "I thought you dead, sor," Ddrad shouted. "I'm right glad to see you." The men embraced as men often did, slapping each other's backs and laughing.

  "Mercele?" Bren asked. Ddrad shook his head. Karah saw tears welling in Bren's eyes as he and Ddrad and the rest of the survivors ran back to join up with the smaller group, then vanishing as his face set. He smiled when he looked at her, though; she felt a glow of satisfaction at that.

  "We got the boat back thataway," the sergeant added. "It won't hold this lot."

  "Leave it," Bren said. "Its too big to carry, and we have to hurry. Next tide will be the start of the three-moon tides. We have to make higher ground."

  Karah studied the survivors from the doomed Sea Mare and shivered. None of the men and women who lived to get on that boat had been from her unit. Of the scouts, only she and Eowlie were still alive.

  Eowlie had evidently been thinking the same thing, for she looked from the soldiers to Karah, and her yellow eyes were narrowed. "We will liff, you and I," she said fiercely.

  Karah nodded. Or we'll take Darkist's bastards to hell with us, she thought.

  They formed up, and they were no longer four survivors pitted against the unknown. They were a company again, Karah discovered, a company with purpose.

  They sang while they marched—the men's low voices and the women's higher ones blending beautifully, so that if she hadn't known the words they were singing, Karah would have thought the songs lovely. But they sang about how they hated to march, and about spending life belly-down in the mud, and about the old battles—Kunheero, and Poke Mountain, and An Tiram. Karah led them off on the one about Sergeant Sara, whose amulet failed so that she got the crud, got pregnant, and finally got away.

  Then they sang of home and how they wished they were there—and Karah stopped singing along partway through the song and closed her eyes and let Windrush have his head She wished she were home, with Glorylad still safe, and her working side by side with her parents.

  Of course, if she'd stayed home, she would have ended up married to the Kreugfeldt boy.

  She didn't like to think of the advantages of going to war, but, she thought, there you have it. Give up every other man I've ever known for the likes of him. It seemed reasonable before, but it doesn't now.

  When I get home, that's the first thing I'll tell Ma and Pa. No Kreugfeldts. For that matter, the Kreugfeldt heir didn't like her.

  She grinned. She didn't for a moment believe that was what she'd really tell them first, but it amused her to think it.

  God, but she missed home.

  The company came to a channel, and ran along it for a while, hoping it would lead to higher ground.

  Bren dropped back to her side and waved a hand for her to stop. She reined in Windrush, and he vaulted up behind her.

  "We're going to ride in a bit," he said. "See if the ground gets better or worse. I don't want us marching into swamp with the high tide coming."

  Karah nodded. It didn't seem to her they'd gone uphill much at all. Of course, if she'd run the whole way like everyone else, she probably would have felt differently. She was sure the ground hadn't raised enough to put them out of the reach of a three-moon tide, and they were running out of time. The day wasn't gone yet, but it was wearing thin, and there was no true high ground in sight.

  The two of them cantered away from the rest of the company. They got their answer sooner than they would have liked.

  Tall, waving reeds and brackish water spread off in the direction they'd hoped to follow as far as they could see, broken only by rare, twisted shrubs and the skeletal, upreaching fingers of larger trees that had once lived there.

  "Ugh!" Karah said.

  "No hope there," Bren agreed. "We'll have to get back and try across the channel. There has to be higher ground somewhere."

  "Not really."

  He said nothing. Karah looked back over her shoulder at him and saw his rueful smile.

  "Thanks," he said. "You're such a comfort."

  "I'm only trying to share some of the happiness being here has brought to me," she told him.

  He laughed.

  They rode back, met the company, and passed on the bad news.

>   "Then you want us t' swim the channel, sor?" Ddrad asked.

  "Didn't look deep enough to swim when we left," Bren answered, and looked at the water.

  Karah looked, too. It hadn't been all that deep before—maybe to her neck, and she was short. It was far deeper now.

  "Tides changed," Bren said, and his face went dark and bleak "Straight ahead, double-time march!—and pray for hills."

  Karah was stronger. Strong enough, she thought, to do a double-time march, while Bren rode Windrush ahead to hunt for hills.

  She shouted that suggestion as she trotted beside him. He shook his head "No," he yelled "I need to stay with my people. You ride ahead, Karah. See what you can find for us. Within running distance."

  She nodded and took off.

  She managed a canter some of the time; but where there was grass, it grew in hillocks, and where there was level ground, the ground was usually covered with stones. She paid attention to Windrush's gait, in case he went off a foot or stumbled All the while, she hoped to see high ground.

  For a while, she could hear the company behind her, feet thudding in a fast rhythm. Some of the old troopers still sang, though the young voices of the recruits had washed out long ago. Then, when she wasn't really thinking about it, the voices were gone, and she realized she was alone.

  The land around her remained bleak. Seabirds screamed and brief squalls soaked her and beat the grass down, then stopped as soon as they'd started. The greyness of the day made time almost impossible to tell. The channel beside her was definitely filling.

  Time, she thought. By the Three, we need more time. She made that into a prayer, touched the marks on her face, and gritted her teeth.

  She came to a miserable thicket—tightwoven thorny branches with canes that braided from the ground to high over her head in an impenetrable wall; those were laden with evil-smelling berries of a noxious off-purple hue. Karah thought she'd never seen anything more poisonous-looking than those berries. She skirted the thicket, riding away from the channel.

  She rode, but the thicket didn't seem to end, and she couldn't seem to get back to the channel again.