‘“Father,” she said, “little that matters to me, and I will tell you that I would gladly give up whatever you gift me with, if it would buy you but one more day of life.”
‘Then her father felt shamed, for in truth all he had for the girl was a little pot of jam. And that was of no use to anyone, for the jam was sour and full of pits, while the pot had such a long and narrow neck that no spoon would fit down it, even if the jam had been fit to eat. This, you see, was why he still had it to give, for no one else had ever wanted it.’
Ki stole a glance at the group. Goat had curled forward, his elbows on his knees, and for once his face was empty of any slyness or malice. He was a boy listening to a story, and Willow might have been his sister. Her red hair was loose upon her shoulders, and she twined it soothingly around one index finger as she listened, her odd eyes watching the play of the string on Vandien’s fingers. A smile even touched her lips as Vandien drew the loop of string out in a long, long neck to show how foolishly the little pot had been turned.
Ki let the reins go slack in her fingers, trusting the greys to follow their noses down the monotonous road. As Vandien spoke, she watched, not his fingers, but his face, the dark of his eyes that sparked with his enjoyment of the tale, his features that mirrored each character in turn. She wondered, again, what had brought him into her life, and what made him stay.
Then her interest was caught in the story, and she forgot to wonder as the horses drew them, step by steady step, closer to Algona.
SEVEN
The rising sun cast a pink glow over wagon, sleepers and browsing horses. Ki lay still a moment longer, savoring the peace. Vandien lay beside her, burrowed deep in their blankets. Only his dark curling hair and the back of his neck was visible. Sleepily she took a curl between her fingers, drew it out and watched it spring back. He mumbled something, but did not move.
Last night had been more peaceful than any since the trip began. Vandien had filled Willow and Goat with tales all the afternoon, stories made more fascinating by Vandien’s skills as a teller. There had been only one brief squabble, when Willow had asked to be taught to make symbols on the string, and Goat had quickly insisted that he be included. With unusual patience, Vandien had suggested they take turns, and changed their jealousy over his attention into a sort of competition. Willow had even grudgingly conceded that Goat was the quicker to learn the finger twists. Her brusque compliment had won her a look of such worship that Ki wondered how she could be blind to the boy’s feelings. When it was time to make camp that evening, Goat had been willing and helpful, responding to Willow’s snubs and criticisms as if they were helpful suggestions.
After they had eaten, the story-string had come out again, and Vandien spun out the long tale of the tailor’s twelve sons. By the time the twelfth son had completed his dozen tasks and won the admiration of the Huntswoman of the Green Woods, the moon was high and the night blossomed to full blackness.
All had been ready to sleep; even Willow was nodding. But when Goat wished them all sweet dreams, Willow snarled, ‘As one who does not sleep at night, I expect no dreams at all, Goat. None!’ She had slammed the cuddy door behind her, then opened it a moment later to expel a fall of blankets and quilts. Vandien had stared in astonishment, but when he had opened his mouth to speak, Ki touched his arm. ‘Ignore it,’ she suggested. ‘Let’s just go to sleep. Algona is just down the rise from here, and Tekum but a few days beyond it.’
‘Thank the Moon for that,’ Vandien muttered. He took a wad of blankets from her arms and settled into them, sinking into sleep so rapidly that Ki realized how much pain his ribs were actually giving him. When she took blankets to Goat, she found him sitting by the fire, his eyes already closed. She shook him gently by the shoulder, and he roused slowly.
‘Algona is not far from here,’ he whispered. A peculiar smile touched his lips. ‘Not even as far as Keddi was from my father’s house. We will be there before noon tomorrow. It is full of people and their lives, brimming with their stories. Like a cup waiting to be drunk.’
Ki smiled, taking pleasure in the boy’s sleepy imaginings. Vandien’s tales often had that effect on children. She had seen the street children in a market continue to sit, dreamy-eyed, in a circle around Vandien long after his story was finished. Goat had glimpsed the wideness of the world in Vandien’s stories today. She pushed his bedding into his hands, and he curled into it like a sleepy pup. As she arranged herself carefully down Vandien’s back, she reflected that the man and his stories might do more toward growing the boy up than he could ever imagine.
Ki had risen, washed, and put the kettle on before the rest began to stir. Willow looked bedraggled and grouchy after her sleepless night, but Ki and Vandien scarcely noticed her. Both exchanged silent glances over Goat, who folded his blankets and stacked them beside the wagon before offering to fetch and harness the horses.
‘Go ahead. Watch out for Sigurd, though. He doesn’t think he’s off to a proper start in the morning unless he’s stepped on your foot or nipped you,’ Vandien warned him.
‘Oh, he won’t bother me. I’ll have them harnessed before you can gather up the dishes.’ He ran off in happy anticipation.
Ki stared after him. Then Vandien gave her a grin of vaguely paternal pride. ‘Boy’s coming around,’ he observed, and stiffly rose to load the blankets into the wagon while Ki gathered dishes. Willow sat by the fire, dragging a comb through her hair and occasionally sipping at a mug of cooling tea.
The great horses came to harness docilely. They stood quietly in their places, enduring Goat’s fumbling efforts with the harness and buckles until Ki came to help him. Then, indeed, they were ready to go, and Goat was the first to scramble up onto the seat. Willow entered the cuddy, but opened the door that led onto the seat so that she was included in the group. ‘Are you still in that much pain?’ she asked curiously as Vandien slowly mounted the wagon.
He didn’t answer, but sat breathing quietly as Ki climbed up behind him. She took up the reins and the horses left the small meadow where they had spent the night. The greys stepped out briskly as if they, too, had spent a peaceful night and were eager for the road. Their ears were up and pricked forward as they started down the road into Algona.
The town was in a slight depression in the wide plain, perhaps for the sake of water. They were passing outlying farms now, fields that had already been harvested and looked strangely shaven with their stubble still standing. Algona spread out before them. Ki considered it in the morning’s pale light. Most of the buildings were mud brick, and the streets were laid out in concentric circles around a more impressive stone building. People and animals moved soundlessly in the distant streets. She watched them dreamily as Vandien began telling one of the ornate T’cherian fables that were his favorites. Ki found them obscure.
He had only reached the first moral of the five-part tale when the wagon gave a lurch. Ki had halted the wagon in the rutted trail.
‘Something wrong?’ he asked, and she gestured.
Down the road, two wagons and a man leading three camels were queued up in the road. Their way was blocked by a flimsy wooden barricade. Behind the barricade were five Brurjans. One was perched sideways on his horse overseeing the other four as they burrowed through the contents of a wagon. The man who held the horses’ reins was very still, his head bowed. He did not watch the Brurjans rifling through his possessions.
‘Smuggling check!’ Goat announced, bouncing on the seat.
‘For what kind of contraband?’ Vandien asked uneasily.
Goat shrugged. ‘Perfume, gems, weapons, writings of the Seven False Prophets. Anything the Duke has forbidden to the common people. Some goods require a special permit and an extra tax to carry.’
‘And some goods the Brurjans want for themselves. Some traders carry a few knives with fancy hilts for the Brurjans to confiscate so they won’t look too closely at anything else. And they’ll be checking travel permits.’ Willow’s voice shook.
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p; ‘We’ll get you through,’ Vandien assured her, but his voice was less confident than usual.
‘I don’t have a damn thing to bribe them with,’ Ki muttered to herself.
Vandien opened his mouth to remind her of the Windsinger’s gold, then shut it. No use arguing that cause. Another worry struck him. ‘What about my rapier? Will they try to take that?’
Goat shook his head. ‘Too old and plain. Just wear it and they probably won’t even mention it. The Duke doesn’t mind a person having one knife or a sword. But a wagonload of weapons might be going to the rebels. That he wouldn’t like.’
‘Besides, if you hide it, they’d just think there was something more to look for,’ Ki pointed out. Her voice held the weariness of long experience with petty border officials. ‘They’ll know we wouldn’t travel far without a weapon of some kind. Wear it so they can see it, or they’ll wonder where it is and what’s with it.’ Unconsciously she touched her belt knife. ‘Besides, that’s not the problem …’ Her voice trailed off.
Abruptly she shoved the reins into Vandien’s hands and clambered awkwardly back into the cuddy. She pushed Vandien’s rapier in its worn sheath out to him. He had scarcely buckled its belt around himself before she was pushing their travelling papers into his hands. She dug Goat’s paper’s from his bag, tossed them to him. Vandien twisted around to watch her rummaging through the cupboards.
Ki churned strong cheese and vinegar in a bowl, then added a handful of grain and a corner off a block of bean paste. She ordered Willow to creep into the cupboard where they usually stored potatoes and other tubers. She closed the door firmly and turned the catch, muffling the girl’s complaints. Then Ki heaped a couple of quilts in front of the cupboard. A quick slosh splashed the mixture over the two quilts and down the cupboard door. Vandien turned away, wrinkling his nose in distaste.
‘Think it’ll work?’ he asked as Ki resumed her seat.
She shrugged.
The Brurjan guards were searching the second wagon, tossing bales of something to the dusty road to see what lay beneath them. The driver sat stiff on the wagon seat, staring straight ahead. ‘Could we go around Algona?’ Vandien suggested softly.
Ki shook her head. ‘Road doesn’t go that way. The second we pulled off the road, they’d know we’re hiding something. They already noticed our stopping. They’ll have questions, but I’ve got answers.’ She turned to Goat. ‘Remember that, Gotheris. I’ve got the answers. If they ask you anything, just shake your head and look sick. Let me handle everything else. In fact, start looking sick right now.’
Sudden comprehension dawned on Goat’s face. He slid the cuddy door shut and leaned back against it, his arms crossed over his belly. He stared down at his feet, a puckered look on his face, as Ki put the wagon into motion.
‘The boy’s a natural,’ Vandien observed in approval. Goat flashed him a brief smile, then curled over his belly again.
Ki pulled up well back of the camels, but the team still snorted their disapproval. She took a firm grip on the reins to keep them steady while Vandien climbed down and threw open the side door of the wagon. He stood casually beside the open door, waiting, while the Brurjans finished their inspection of the camels. He watched them surreptitiously and was relieved when he didn’t recognize any of them. He had feared they might be part of the group who had killed the Tamshin. He didn’t think Ki’s control could stand up to a chance meeting with them. He was sweating. He wished they’d had more of a chance to rehearse with Goat. One false move on the boy’s part, and Willow was finished.
The Brurjans approached, their incongruously small boots making puffs of dust with every step. They moved with feline ease, yet resembled great cats no more than they did Humans. They were Brurjan, of a kind to themselves with their great toothy maws and soft pelts, their muscular bodies and black clawed hands. Vandien looked up into cold black eyes. He tried not to think of how easily this creature could rip his arms from his body. Instead he nodded casually.
‘Papers!’ the one on horseback demanded. Vandien heard Ki’s polite mutter as she turned them over. ‘We’re taking the boy to be apprenticed to his uncle in Villena,’ Ki volunteered. ‘He’s to be a healer. Can you believe that of so sickly a boy?’ Her voice carried clearly to Vandien, and he nodded to himself. So they were going to play it almost truthful. Well, it was a surprise, coming from Ki, but it might be easier.
‘Hmm.’ The black clawed hands rifled quickly through the papers. He glanced at Ki, his black eyes hard and evaluating. ‘The boy’s papers are okay. Yours don’t even mention Villena. This is just a general travel permit. See, this stamp is only good within three days of Keddi.’
‘That’s not what we were told,’ Ki replied, wondering if he were fishing for a bribe.
‘Well, it’s what I’m telling you now. See the clerk in the Ducal Office. Hauling anything else?’ The voice was hard with no effort at politeness. Liar, it called Ki, and expected no truthful answer to its questions.
‘Nothing but our travelling supplies,’ Ki replied.
The Brurjan by Vandien wrinkled his tawny nose as he leaned into the cuddy. ‘Goddam stinking Humans,’ he muttered as he mounted the step. The wagon creaked dangerously under his weight. Vandien let him get well within, said nothing as he opened the bedding cabinet and tumbled the quilts to the floor to search behind them. He dragged his clawed hand through the bins of flour and grain, searching for hidden trinkets or weapons. Ki’s clothing and then Vandien’s joined the heap on the floor. Vandien kept his lips sealed as the Brurjan filched an enameled brass bracelet, slipping it into his pouch. He remembered the street girl he had bought it from, choosing it from her tray of bracelets and feathered earrings as Ki stood by his shoulder, protesting and laughing as he insisted on trying every bracelet against her browned wrist. He looked away as the bracelet vanished forever, along with a handful of coppers he had forgotten in his other vest.
It was only when the Brurjan stooped by the tuber cupboard that Vandien spoke. ‘Sorry about the vomit. The boy was sick all over in here. Mind you, don’t get any on you. I hope Algona has a public well, so we can clean things up in here.’
The Brurjan dropped the quilt and straightened abruptly, knocking his head against the cuddy ceiling. He glared at Vandien, sniffed his dripping fingers, and then growled his outrage. As he left the cuddy, he slapped his hand clean down the front of Vandien’s shirt. Vandien grunted with the impact, but forced himself to stand still and accept it. Willow, he reminded himself firmly. Willow.
‘They clean?’ the Brurjan on the horse demanded.
‘No,’ snarled the searcher. ‘But there’s nothing worth taking, either.’
‘Go on, then,’ the leader ordered, and turned aside from the wagon. Goat belched loudly and spit a mouthful of saliva into the road dust, earning him a glare from the searcher. But a shepherd with some ratty sheep was approaching, and the leader was gesturing for him to perform his search.
Ki shook the reins and the wagon lurched forward. Vandien caught the doorframe, swung himself up inside the caravan and pulled the door closed behind him. He crouched by the potato cupboard. ‘Just a little longer,’ he muttered. ‘We’re past the guards, but stay hidden until Ki tells you to come out.’ He straightened slowly, and began unbuttoning his soiled shirt.
Algona was a dusty little town, built of mud bricks, paved with mud bricks, a place constructed from its own dust and the infrequent rains. The water well seemed to be the sole reason for the town’s existence. All the caravans stopped here for water and a day of rest, so the Ducal Offices were here to collect fees and issue papers, and the Brurjan troops were quartered here to enforce the Duke’s will. There was very little else for Brurjans to do in Algona, which accounted for their unusually sullen temperaments, and their sour outlook on the drab little town accounted for the beaten and furtive attitudes of the folk they encountered. Or so Ki reasoned as she pulled a sopping shirt from the wooden bucket. She wrung it carefully over the bucket, conse
rving water out of long habit. The shoulder seam was torn out of this one. Ki clicked her tongue. Vandien would mutter over mending it. His own fault, though. Why couldn’t the damn man practice his fencing without a shirt on, instead of tearing out shoulder seams with extended lunges?
‘When is he going to get back?’
Goat’s whine was so in tune with Ki’s own thoughts that it didn’t even annoy her.
‘Soon. I hope. As soon as he gets our papers fixed.’ Ki rocked back on her heels and looked around. The public well was no more than a wide depression in the earth, paved with stone blocks. The water welled up somewhere in the center of the depression and filled it before the overflow was channeled away to the gardens surrounding the Ducal Offices. Surrounding the well was a great open courtyard. In it, children played while women bent over tubs and garments. No one spoke to Ki, but the bright wagon and the big horses were objects of curiosity. Mothers repeatedly called children away from them, while studiously ignoring both Goat and Ki. Ki wrung out the last garment and tossed it into a basket beside her.
‘Maybe he went to a tavern and got drunk and forgot all about us,’ Goat suggested sourly.
‘I doubt it.’ Ki looked at the basket of wet laundry, wondering how to dry it. The bricks of the courtyard were coated with dust. Senseless to spread clean wet clothes out on them. Maybe tonight they’d camp by trees, or at least near clean grass. She hoped the clothes wouldn’t sour before then. And she hoped Vandien had enough coin to pay for the papers they’d need to get out of this town. Goat’s papers were good all the way to Villena. Damn this Duke and his rules. She suspected they were being overcharged for their travel permits by officials who sensed they were strangers to the routine. Well, there was little she could do about that. Except to get out of this Duke’s territory as swiftly as she could … after she had dropped off Goat, of course.
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