—cursed with the healer’s gift of life. Peri grimaced. It was a curse, all right. Enough of the healer’s gift to twist the path of her life all awry; enough to leave her constantly frustrated among all these sick and malformed people, but not enough to help most of them. She sighed. Ironically, she actually might have done some good in Danber’s clan. They had a competent healer already, but a halfway decent herbalist and healer’s assistant was always more than welcome in the nomadic clans to ease the healer’s burden, tend minor cases, and do field treatments in the hunting parties and patrols. Her ability to sense water would be equally valuable.
But only to Danber’s clan, Peri thought bitterly. By Mother’s logic my gifts will serve all of Bregond as Aunt Kairi’s Heir. Even if I never actually used the gifts themselves—and I wouldn’t, either. Bregond’s High Hall has about as much use for a pitiful healer and water mage—or a swords-woman, even a damned good one—as a grasshawk has for horseshoes.
She shouldered her pack and turned around, surprised to see Atheris watching her intently, a troubled expression on his face. Peri tightened her lips; as far as she was concerned, the subject was closed, and anyway, the other pilgrims were awake and bundling up their own goods, preparing for their day’s journey.
“Heal—good sir!” Peri jumped and whirled, her hand on her sword hilt, and Atheris turned just as quickly, only to find the man Minyat behind them.
“Forgive me,” Minyat said, his eyes wide. “I only wished to thank you, good sir, for your aid, and ask if there was any compensation I might make you for sparing my wife and me the journey to Rocarran.” He hesitated. “I spent most of our coin buying the wagon and supplies so that Irra might make the pilgrimage, so I can offer you no money, but if there is anything we own that you desire—”
Peri shrugged negligently, but Atheris’s eyes widened.
“You will journey to Darnalek, then?” he asked.
“Most immediately,” Minyat said, nodding. “We will procure a good supply of the sea salt before returning home. There is surely little enough of it to be found in Sarkond at all, and none in our small village.”
“We, too, would profit from a visit to Darnalek,” Atheris said quickly. “Could you make room in your wagon for us?”
Minyat raised his eyebrows.
“Of course,” he said. “But it is only a short road to Darnalek, probably only a day’s steady ride in our wagon. That is scant compensation for such service as your friend has so kindly rendered my wife and me.” He gave Peri a look of such gratitude that she scowled under her disguise. She’d only spared them an inconvenient trip to a temple for healing; it wasn’t as if she’d saved Irra’s life, after all.
“For us it is compensation enough,” Atheris said gravely. “Come, if this arrangement is satisfactory to you, my friend can assist your wife, and I will help you load your wagon.” He gave Peri a significant look.
Peri frowned, confused, and found herself following Minyat and Atheris uneasily. What was Atheris up to now? Not long before, he’d agreed it was vital to avoid the city; now he was abandoning the safety of the pilgrimage, which he’d maintained so staunchly, to go to Darnalek. She could hardly refuse or argue now, either. A day or two ago she’d have rejoiced at an alternative to moving deeper into Sarkond; now the abrupt change in Atheris’s plans only made her uneasy and suspicious.
Peri had no chance to question him, however, for as soon as they returned to Minyat’s tent, Atheris busied himself with Minyat loading the wagon, and she had little choice but to help Irra pack up the couple’s belongings. The woman was friendly but, thank the Bright Ones, not talkative, perhaps awkward in Peri’s presence. Peri began to understand Atheris’s strategy, however, when she glanced over and saw him surreptitiously dripping blood from a cut thumb onto the wagon frame.
When the wagon was loaded, Peri and Atheris tucked their packs in and climbed on the back. Minyat did not attempt to guide the wagon through the crowd of pilgrims, but waited for them to gather up their belongings and move ahead, clearing the way, before he turned the mule north toward Darnalek.
There was no way for Peri to talk to Atheris, not with Minyat and Irra sitting right in front of them, so she could only settle herself as carefully as she could on her lumpy and rather precarious seat and fume in silence as the wagon jolted up the road.
Although from what Minyat had said, they had to be near the city, they passed no one on the road except small groups on foot that Peri suspected were bound for Rocarran, and the countryside remained every bit as bleak and dry and empty as she’d seen so far. From time to time she saw what appeared to be houses, but these were empty and obviously abandoned, many fallen to ruin. There were no farms, no inns, no small settlements, no shrines—not even the bands of raiders that she had always thought must populate the whole of Sarkond. Peri wanted to ask Atheris about it and ground her teeth in frustration that she could not.
Minyat and Irra seemed more cheerful now, probably relieved at the prospect of returning home, and they chatted amiably with Atheris, occasionally addressing a remark to Peri rather abashedly, as if they had forgotten she was there (and, she thought sourly, despite their gratitude, they probably had).
From their conversation she gathered that the couple lived rather northeast of Darnalek in a small town. Minyat traded in copper pots and utensils, information which, to Peri’s mystification, seemed to impress Atheris greatly; Irra, childless herself, practiced as a midwife, which explained to Peri the woman’s ease with healers.
“At least Irra’s trade thrives,” Minyat said, shaking his head. “Not so with mine. Everyone flocks to Rocarran now to hear the Whore. I’m glad enough to stay away. These are strange times, friend, dangerous times—too strange for a simple copper trader. Not that I question the prophecies,” he added hastily, glancing back at Atheris and Peri as if to make sure he hadn’t overstepped himself. “We pray every day for the awakening, make our offerings regularly. When the healers said there was no cure for Irra, I vowed to seek Eregis’s touch at her side. But Eregis be praised, wise one, you—”
He broke off again, then said, with obvious relief, “Look! The walls of Darnalek.”
Peri looked, then grimaced. She hadn’t expected a city the size of Tarkesh, the capital of Agrond, or even Olhavar, Bregond’s capital city, but Atheris had implied that Darnalek was of a fairly respectable size. From what Peri could see, it was no bigger than a good-sized town, and certainly no richer. The “wall” was a stockade of thick upright posts in rather poor repair, lashed together with vines, and the thick wooden gate hung apathetically ajar. One lethargic guard drowsed at his station atop the wall beside the gate, and the cart passed without acknowledgment.
The city itself impressed Peri no more than the wall. The wooden buildings were neglected, some of them badly deteriorated, and clustered so thickly that the narrow lanes seemed to close in around the little cart. Although the street was so hard-packed and dry that she knew there must have been a recent extended drought, and although the streets were amazingly clear of dung, a rotten smell rose up from the gutters in a fetid miasma. Peri grimaced, for once glad of the rags over her nose and mouth.
The people of Darnalek looked as worn and neglected as their city. A few thin, sickly children played apathetically in doorways or in the filthy gutters. The adults leaning in the doorways or windows and staring lethargically at nothing in particular, or shuffling wearily along at the side of the narrow lane, looked as drab and thin and unhealthy as the youngsters.
A gasp made Peri turn and glance at Atheris. The shock in his expression was plain as his eyes flitted over the dismal scene.
“I have never been so far south before,” Atheris said, very softly. “I had no idea things had gotten so bad here.”
Irra glanced back at him.
“Some of the towns are better,” she said. “Our well taps a very deep spring and there is less demand made on it. But little grows on the farms. There is no life left in the soil even th
at far to the north.”
Atheris made a small sound of dismay, and Peri was surprised by his distinctly guilty expression. What in the world was he bothered about? He’d said himself that he’d never been this far south before. Whatever had blighted this land had obviously happened long ago, probably during the war, and Atheris looked young enough that he’d probably not even been born then.
“If you are familiar with Darnalek,” he said, very quietly, “and could direct us to an inn, I would be most grateful.”
Minyat and Irra exchanged glances.
“There are a number of respectable inns,” Minyat said slowly. “But—” He glanced at Peri and fell silent.
“Ah,” Atheris said softly. “I see.”
“I have a cousin who lives here with his wife,” Irra said at last. “He does not run an inn, only a stable, but he has a large loft he sometimes rents to boarders of good character. If I speak to him, I am certain he would sympathize with the plight of a warrior disfigured in the defense of the country, and especially one who has rendered us such kindly service.”
“You are too kind,” Atheris murmured, but he said it absently, still gazing out, brooding, over that terrible half-dead city. He looked so deeply shaken that without thinking, Peri reached out and took his hand, squeezing his fingers. Atheris glanced at her, startled, then mustered a faint smile. Peri felt her cheeks heat under the rags, but it was too late to withdraw the gesture.
Thankfully the southern fringe of the city nearest the least-used gate was apparently the worst of it; the buildings nearer the center of the city showed somewhat better care, at least enough that Peri stopped worrying that the roof might tumble down on their heads or the floor fall out from under them in the night. A few of the shops even had a touch of color to them, paint on the signs or a swath of colorful cloth curtaining the window, and once or twice a more appetizing aroma reached her nose even over the stench of the gutters.
Minyat stopped the wagon outside a house that appeared not terribly shabby. Glancing apologetically at Peri and Atheris, Irra climbed out of the wagon by herself. A homely, tired-looking woman answered her knock on the door, smiling at Irra in welcome, and they talked quietly for a few moments. At one point during the conversation, the woman glanced uncuriously at the wagon and its passengers, then returned to her quiet interchange with Irra. At last she nodded, waiting in the doorway while Irra stepped back to the wagon.
“My cousin Orren is gone to the market for the morning, trading for feed,” Irra said apologetically. “Lina says you are welcome to the loft, and for board and breakfast and supper she will charge you four sestis a day for the both of you, or two for board without meals. An inn would cost you at least five.”
“The lady’s offer is more than generous,” Atheris said quickly. He pulled out his pack and Peri’s. “And we thank you both for the transport and your kind efforts on our behalf. May Eregis favor you both with prosperity, and may your cure be swift and easy, lady.”
Peri simply climbed out of the wagon after Atheris, patting Irra’s hand and nodding to Minyat. They followed Lina silently into the house; to Peri’s surprise, the woman barred the door behind them although it was only late afternoon.
“Madmen, murderers, and thieves,” Lina said briefly. “No one is safe. Come, I will show you to the loft.”
When Lina opened the door at the top of a flight of stairs, Peri sighed, blessing the good luck that had led her to Minyat and Irra. The loft was huge, covering the house and stable alike, plain but clean; fortunately the nights were warm enough that the single small coal brazier would heat it sufficiently. There was no bed, but straw mattresses on the wooden floor would make pallets certainly more comfortable than the ground. The latching door was thick and solid, as were the floor and walls, and stout shutters fastened over the windows; here, at least, Peri could speak and even practice her swordplay with little fear of being overheard. Even the nasty smell from the gutters and the more familiar aroma of horses and manure from the stables wasn’t too bad up here with the shutters closed.
“This will more than suffice,” Atheris told Lina, although Peri somehow had the suspicion he’d have said the same if the woman had shown them to a closet full of lice. “We are most grateful for your hospitality, lady.” He pulled out a few of the pounded bits of gold. “I regret we have no sestis. If this gold will not suffice to pay a week’s board and food in advance, I could quickly change it for coin for you.”
Lina silently picked up one of the bits, eyeing it critically, unfazed; then she nodded, scooping up the other bits.
“Gold will do,” she said briefly. “Chamber pot’s in the corner. I’ll bring you up a bucket of water. No guests in the room. You get drunk and break things, you go. Breakfast at dawn, supper at sundown. We don’t open that door sunset to sunrise, so be in by dark or not at all.”
She glanced at Peri and her expression softened slightly.
“You’ve had a bad journey, I can see,” she said. “I’ll bring up some bread and cheese with your water. It’s still a few hours to supper.”
“Thank you most kindly, lady,” Atheris said, still absently; he waited almost impatiently until Lina returned with the bucket and a covered basket, and as soon as she was gone, he latched the door and turned to Peri.
“Now that we are out of the wagon, the Bone Hunters can find us if they try,” he said. “I must protect this room. But it must be your blood to set the spell.”
Peri remembered how much that spell had weakened her the first time and rolled up her sleeve rather reluctantly.
“Why mine?” she said.
“Because one of us must remain within the wards to sustain the spell,” he said, “and one of us must go out tomorrow and find a mage and purchase better protections and supplies. And you cannot speak in the city, and you have no knowledge of the magic we will need, so it must be you who stays.” He grimaced slightly. “I doubt that my errands in this city will be so enjoyable as to leave you envious of my freedom.”
Peri thought of those stinking, narrow lanes and the gray denizens of Darnalek and shivered.
“All right,” she said. “I can’t argue with that.”
When Atheris had drawn a little of her blood and sprinkled the edges of the loft, Peri kindled a small fire in the brazier and set the bread and cheese to toast while she relievedly discarded her robe and bandages.
“I don’t suppose there’s any chance of a bath?” she asked wistfully.
Atheris shook his head.
“Our host and hostess most likely have a steamhouse,” he said. “Coal is cheap enough but water is precious. If the steamhouse is inside the building, you will still be inside the wards. Or use what is in the bucket, if you prefer.”
Peri glanced into the bucket and grimaced. The water was not too murky, but it had an odor, a flat, dead smell that she didn’t like; she hesitated even to wash herself with the stuff, especially with the healing cuts on her arm.
“A sweathouse is fine,” she said, shrugging. Danber’s clan used sweat tents when water was scarce—hardly an infrequent occurrence on Bregond’s dry plains—and a good long steaming sounded appealing in this rather cold and dismal city. She set the bucket aside. Atheris would simply have to buy more wine, or good water, if he could find it, while he was roaming the streets of decaying Darnalek tomorrow. And while he was at it, he could price horses. The Bright Ones knew they had gold enough to purchase a couple of nags sound enough to get them back to Bregond.
Atheris went downstairs to consult with Lina and returned with the news that a steamhouse was indeed available at a slight additional cost, which he had paid with a tiny shaving of gold, and he had brought back clean cloths and a bowl of soft soap.
“I mean you no disrespect,” he said, glancing at Peri sideways, “but it would rouse suspicion if we wasted the water to use the steamhouse separately.”
Peri disliked that idea intensely, and Atheris’s spell had left her tired and lethargic, but the prospect of
relative cleanliness, even though she had no fresh clothes to wear, was too tempting.
“All right,” she said shortly, but when she took the bundle of their gold with them, she took her dagger, too. She wouldn’t spoil her sword in the heat and moisture of a sweathouse, but as her mother said, there was a word for people who took even a few steps outside their front door unarmed. And if anybody thought Peri an easy mark, she’d teach them that word.
The loft was so bare that Peri had to search for some time before she found a crack in the eaves in which she could hide her sword. She didn’t bother to hide the healer’s bag, although it was probably the most valuable thing they owned, apart from the gold. Fate had dropped it unwanted into her hands; if somebody stole it, she wouldn’t complain.
The sweathouse was a tiny room, hardly larger than a big closet; Peri could see that its size had been reduced, most likely to conserve the precious water. Lina had lit the brazier, and the coals (and the room) were already quite hot; Peri scooped out a dipper of water and sprinkled it over the metal grate, producing the first hissing cloud of steam. She turned away from Atheris and undressed briskly, settling herself on one of the benches and drawing her knees up in front of her. She should’ve thought, she realized, to wear the loincloth she kept in her emergency pack to hold the rags on her moon days. She’d never felt self-conscious in the sweat tents of her clan, shared by men and women alike to conserve water, but Atheris was no clansman. This was a Sarkond.
Atheris undressed slowly, apparently as reluctant as Peri, keeping his back turned, but for the life of her Peri couldn’t resist peeping at him out of the corner of her eyes. When she’d tended the wound in his side she’d noted his wiry muscle, and now she couldn’t help a certain reluctant admiration. He didn’t have Danber’s robust bulk, but there was nothing of the soft city mage about him; his dusky skin was stretched tightly over muscles that silently boasted of long hours of sword practice. Sweat and condensation ran down his back and his skin gleamed; Peri took a deep breath, helplessly watching the droplets’ descent—then, as Atheris sat down, she glimpsed something that shocked her healer’s sense into a clamor.
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