Luck of the Wheels

by Megan Lindholm

  ‘But you promised!’ Willow’s wail split the morning. It jerked Ki awake. She sat up with a start, then groaned, feeling she had torn loose every stiff muscle in her body. Dew had settled on her and chilled her. The crushed grasses beside her were the only sign of where Vandien had slept.

  She clambered to her feet and stumbled toward the wagon. She splashed water from the cask over her face and hands, and then tried to make sense of the scene that presented itself.

  Willow, her hair a tousled gleam in the new sun, was pouting prettily at a rumpled Goat. He was crouched by the fire, putting bits of twigs on the coals. Obviously they hadn’t been awake much longer than Ki. ‘You promised it to me,’ Willow repeated, her voice husky with rebuke, and something warmer. Goat looked up at her and grinned. He spotted Ki and the grin grew wider as he rejoiced in his audience.

  ‘I’ll give it back to you,’ he said in the sticky sweet voice one might use to a spoiled child. Willow brightened. ‘But not just yet,’ he teased for Ki’s benefit.

  ‘Goat,’ Willow cajoled, and moved closer. A sly smile stole over his face as he stared at the fire.

  ‘All right,’ he told her. ‘Close your eyes, then.’

  He stood, dusting off his knees. He leered genially at Ki, but her attention was on Willow’s face. Beneath the closed eyes, the mouth was a finely drawn line; above them, the brow was smooth. Like a sculpture, Ki thought, purged of human emotions and thoughts. Like an empty thing of stone.

  Then Goat swooped his face in and kissed her. Willow’s eyes flew open, and for an instant Ki read her face. Outrage, disgust, and horror. And then nothing. The face smoothed over as a mason wipes a trowel over damp mortar, smooths and seals it. Then, a smile, as empty as a limp wineskin. ‘Oh, Goat, stop teasing me! You promised you’d give it back.’ There was a purr beneath the whine that made Ki’s stomach tighten.

  ‘I will,’ Goat promised her indulgently. ‘But later, Willow. Later.’ He hooked his arm around her and tugged her close. He turned his smile on Ki and she felt sick to be watching them. ‘I see you’re finally up, Ki. Well, I hope you and Vandien had as good a night as we did. Though I won’t say we got a lot of sleep!’ He cackled and hugged the girl closer. Willow’s body went to his as if it were a sack of old clothing, neither resisting nor aiding the hug. Her face was empty and her eyes were careful.

  The silence grew too long. There was nothing Ki could ask or say. Finally, she simply observed, ‘We’d better get on the road if we want to be in Tekum today.’ A ripple of despair washed over Willow’s face and was gone, like a wave spending itself on a sandy beach.

  No one seemed hungry, and Ki didn’t bother with food that morning. She loaded the wagon, gathering the scattered mugs and the kettle, stowing it all neatly as Goat giggled and pawed at the passive Willow. Ki wondered what had become of Vandien, but she did not call. He knew where she was, and that the wagon must leave soon. Let him have this time to himself. He needed it so.

  Then, as she brought the big grey horses up to harness, he was suddenly there. His cream shirt was sweated to his body, and his sheathed rapier was in his hand. Fencing with shadows, she guessed, slaying all the dark things that menaced him from his dreams. He moved Sigmund into the traces, pulling straps and fastening buckles. Their eyes met briefly across the wide backs. ‘Hello,’ he offered apologetically.

  ‘You know we can’t go to that festival in Tekum.’

  ‘I know. I’m just keeping the skills sharp. In case.’

  ‘Hmph,’ she agreed skeptically. Then she turned at the sound of the wagon door shutting. She heard the ghost of Goat’s high giggle, and knew Willow was inside with him.

  ‘Shit,’ said Vandien, with great feeling. Then he followed her up onto the high plank seat. She took up the reins as he settled beside her.

  ‘We’ll be in Tekum soon,’ she promised him.

  ‘Better late than never,’ he conceded. Then he leaned back on the wagon and seemed to go to sleep. Ki started the team.

  TEN

  Some wise great-grandfather had planted saplings along the main street of Tekum. They were great grey-trunked trees now, offering shade and relief to eyes wearied by endless eddying prairie. Ki wondered if anyone remembered the name of the tree-planter, or even gave a thought to the man who had greened what was otherwise an unremarkable-looking town.

  ‘There’s the inn,’ Vandien observed.

  Ki nodded. The signboard hung from rusted chains. Two Ducks. Ki clicked to the greys as she turned their heads into the innyard. It didn’t look busy. A team of mules hitched to a buckboard dozed in the afternoon sun. An old dog lay flat on the baked earth. His tail flopped lazily at the wagon’s approach, but he didn’t bother to lift his head.

  Ki halted the team. Silence. A fly buzzing. She looked at Vandien, and their eyes met. He looked miserable. Ki lifted her hand slowly, knocked on the cuddy door. ‘Willow,’ she called softly. ‘We’re here. The Two Ducks.’

  For another moment, silence reigned. Then, ‘Oh, no!’ Willow moaned. ‘Not so soon!’

  Goat muttered something in a salacious tone. Willow made no reply that Ki could hear, but she was trying not to listen. She felt the girl’s movements in the cuddy. ‘Probably gathering up her things,’ Vandien muttered. Ki didn’t add, ‘and getting dressed and brushing her hair.’ It took a very long time for Willow to open the side door of the wagon and climb out.

  She looked awful. The clothing she wore was rumpled, the shining copper hair a tangled nest. She dropped her single bag of possessions at her feet. Goat leaned out the door of the wagon. Ki glanced back, to see Willow smiling tenuously up at him. ‘Now?’ she asked. ‘You did promise,’ she added, her smile getting shakier.

  For a moment Goat smiled down at her. Then his look grew cagier. ‘Ride with me to Villena,’ he offered. ‘Then I’ll tell you.’

  Willow’s face crumbled. ‘I cannot!’ she begged.

  ‘Then I cannot,’ Goat shrugged. His smile grew wider.

  And Willow’s face changed. Green and blue eyes blazed with anger. The snarl that contorted her face seemed almost reptilian. Ki expected venom to shoot from her lips, while Goat recoiled in horror. ‘I hate you!’ Willow hissed. ‘I hate you and I have always hated you! Your touch is like the touch of a slug, of offal smeared against the skin! You stink, and your breath is foul. You are the poorest of males, and your body …’

  ‘You liked it well enough last night,’ ventured Goat, but there was no courage in his taunt. It sounded like a plea.

  ‘I hate you!’ Willow shrieked, and sprang toward the wagon, clawing.

  Goat slammed the door shut. Ki picked up the reins.

  ‘I hate you all!’ Willow screamed after the wagon. ‘All of you! You brought me to this, you ruined me!’

  Willow sank slowly down to sit atop her bag. Her shoulders shook with her sobbing. Ki glanced across at Vandien. His face was grey, his mouth a flat line. ‘I feel,’ he said softly, ‘as if we have done a great evil, all unawares. And I feel accursed, as if there is yet a debt to be paid.’

  ‘You sound like an old tale.’ Ki could not keep the awe from her voice. She, too, felt the wrongness of what they drove away from. If a curse felt like a weight draping her shoulders and a black net closing around her heart, then Ki felt cursed.

  The cuddy door behind them jerked open. ‘Aren’t we going to stop at all?’ Goat complained. ‘I want to see a bit of Tekum before we …’

  ‘Not here,’ Ki said tersely. ‘The next inn, perhaps. But not here.’

  ‘But –’

  Vandien reached back and slammed the door. His hands clenched the edge of the seat. Ki glanced at his white knuckles, then fixed her gaze on the road. The tree-lined street was quiet, most trade closed down for the heat of early afternoon.

  ‘I don’t know if I can stand it,’ Vandien said in a strangled voice. ‘Having that thing in there.’

  Ki nodded. Suddenly Goat did seem more of a thing than a person. ‘What do you suggest?’ she aske
d softly.

  Vandien shook his head wearily. ‘We can’t just leave him here.’

  ‘He’d only find his way back to Willow.’ Ki paused, then observed, ‘Like rotten meat. You hate to carry it with you, because of the stench, but you fear to throw it aside lest you poison some poor beast.’

  ‘His uncle in Villena.’ Vandien’s voice was unenthusiastic. ‘I hope that poor bastard knows how to deal with him. I don’t.’

  ‘I wish we didn’t have to stop here at all. But we’re low on salt and tea, and I want to ask the smithy if he has anything for ticks and fleas. This damn warm weather …’

  Ki let the sentence dangle, and she could feel Vandien make the journey north with her, back to the cool lands. What was a snow-blocked pass or ice on the harness buckles compared to endless heat and bugs and guards and papers?

  They were almost outside the town before she spotted an inn that suited her. It was set back from the road and there were few animals in the yard, and none of them looked capable of bearing a Brurjan’s weight. From somewhere close by she heard the clang of hammer against anvil. Sigurd and Sigmund drew the wagon obediently into the yard. They stopped and stood, waiting for water.

  The hostler who came from the stables frowned briefly at the garish wagon, but seemed to know his business as he moved surely around the horses.

  ‘Water, and grain for them. Take their bits out, but don’t unharness them; we won’t be staying that long,’ Ki told him.

  He nodded to her words, then gave a puzzled frown. ‘Aren’t you come for the festival? Not far off, now. Folks already getting ready for it.’

  She shook her head, then transferred her attention to Vandien. ‘I’ll buy you a beer,’ she offered.

  He astonished her by shaking his head. ‘No. Let’s just get our errands done and be moving on. I’ve no urge to explore this town or spend any time here.’

  The cuddy door slid open. ‘But I do!’ Goat protested. ‘I want to look around before we move on. I want …’

  ‘No.’ Vandien’s voice was flat. Goat glared at him for a moment, then turned to Ki.

  ‘I can at least walk around with you while you do your errands. We need more honey, and I want …’

  ‘I’ll be walking around with Ki while she does her errands. You’ll be staying here and watching the wagon. I don’t want you to leave it, and I don’t want you talking to anyone. Some inngirls have fathers, Goat, or brothers, or sweethearts. Try your tricks here, and you’ll be lucky if it’s only my fist you feel. Do we understand one another?’

  Goat glared at him in outrage, and then slammed the door. Ki had remained silent throughout their exchange. Now she asked Vandien worriedly, ‘Do you think it’s safe to leave him alone?’

  ‘He’ll be a lot safer alone than if I have to stay here with him,’ Vandien promised her blackly. He grinned at her then, suddenly and disarmingly, but there was an edge to his smile that she had never seen before, and it did nothing to disarm his threat about Goat. She took his arm and walked him away from the wagon, feeling the tension that was thrumming through him. Ki sighed, and wished she could lose the image of the distraught Willow glaring after the wagon.

  They bought the tea first, and a small earthenware pot of honey sealed with yellow wax. Ki tried to get him interested in the leather goods in a small open-fronted shop, but the usually gregarious Vandien was withdrawn. He was as charming as ever, and the leatherworker eager to show him her wares, but there was something missing from his manner. Warmth, Ki thought, and caring. Usually he could make every person he talked with feel as if he were the most fascinating character Vandien had ever met. Today he was distracted, as if he were listening to something else. ‘No, no, I’m content with what I have,’ he explained, running his hand down the worn sheath of his rapier. ‘It’s old, but she draws easily from this, and it keeps her safe. Anything fancier would only attract attention.’ He looked up at the leatherworker as if seeing her for the first time. ‘Work as fine as yours for a simple traveller like myself? Would only make the Brurjan guards think there was more about me than there really is. But I thank you for showing us your goods.’

  The leatherworker warmed toward him. ‘The Duke’s Brurjans seem to think that of anyone they meet, these days,’ she confided to them. ‘Such a sifting of travellers as they have done of late. There are rumors of a rebel spy travelling to the Duchess. It is said that he has knowledge of the Duke’s troops, and the strength and fortifications of Masterhold itself. The Brurjan that lays claws on him first is to be richly rewarded, with seven black mares and a white stallion from the Duke’s own stables.’

  ‘All the more reason for us to remain unobtrusive,’ Ki filled in. Vandien had wandered back to the street and was watching the traffic. A haunted look was on his face. He was right, Ki decided. Finish the errands quickly and leave.

  She thanked the girl, and they made their way to the smithy and found he had herbs which, rubbed against the horses’ sweaty hides, would stave off the worst of the fleas and ticks. He also had a paste for worming, one he assured Ki was necessary in this part of the world as a monthly tonic. Vandien stood bored as she listened to the smithy, and did not even join in on bargaining him down to a price she thought fair. Her arms were full as they left the smithy’s barn, and Vandien carried the tea and honey, so she could not take his arm as she longed to.

  ‘Sure you don’t want just one quick beer?’ she offered again as they approached the wagon.

  ‘Well … no. No, let’s get on our way to Villena. Goat! Open the cuddy door, my hands are full. Goat!’

  No answer. No creak of motion from the wagon. The horses shifted in their harness as Vandien waited. Then he turned, stacked his goods into Ki’s arms, and jerked the door opened himself. ‘Goat!’ he roared, as the door came open.

  There was no reply, and the look he turned on Ki was unreadable. ‘He’s gone,’ he told her, and jumped down from the wagon step. She struggled laden up the step to dump their purchases on the bed. She came out of the wagon to see Vandien coming out of the inn.

  ‘Not there,’ he said tersely. They looked at each other in silence.

  ‘Want me to check the other shops around here?’ Ki offered, but Vandien shook his head, his expression suddenly savage.

  ‘You know where he’s gone as well as I do. Damn Goat, can’t leave anything alone. It was bad enough as it was, and now to go back into it, to have to see her face again.’

  He moved as he ranted, placing the bits in the horses’ mouths, setting aside the water buckets the hostler had left for them. ‘Let me just pay the innkeeper, then,’ Ki suggested.

  He was holding the reins when she came out, and for once she said nothing about his driving. The team felt his tension down the reins, for they stepped out smartly and Sigurd, for once, tried no tricks with him. Back they went, the shade of the great trees flickering across the greys’ backs and changing them to silvers and whites and almost blacks as the light changed.

  He turned the wagon into the dusty yard of the Two Ducks Inn, and pulling up the team, set the brake and jumped down from the seat. Ki followed him, hoping they would find Goat, hoping that they wouldn’t find him with Willow, hoping desperately that nothing was going to happen, but feeling, just as instinctively as Vandien had all day, that something had already happened, that all that was left was to make a salvage attempt.

  The quiet of the innyard had been deceptive. Ki and Vandien stepped into a dream standing motionless, like a play waiting for an audience. Guests of the inn stood in a white-faced circle about a grouping of three. Willow, sitting at a stained wooden table, her face cradled in her arms, her glossy hair a spreading copper against the table’s dull surface, while Goat, his face a frozen mask of fear, plucked desperately at her sleeve, begging, ‘Willow, make him stop! Tell him you wanted to!’ The man with the drawn blade had to be Kellich. Ki would have known him anywhere. This was who Willow loved, and rightly so. This man in the loose shirt of scarlet silk and black trousers tuck
ed neatly into shining black boots. This man, slender as his blade and as flexible, with a graven face an idol might have envied as the setting for eyes that were darker azure than an August sky. But Willow could not have loved the pain and anger in those eyes, the humiliation that whitened his tanned skin to sallowness.

  ‘Come to your death, whelp!’ Kellich invited Goat.

  ‘No!’ Goat wailed, and stepped once again into the shelter of Willow’s body as Kellich moved around the table. ‘Willow! Make him stop it! You wanted to be with me, you know you did! I felt it, you wanted me. Tell him! Tell him to let us go!’

  Willow lifted her head suddenly. Nothing of youth was left in her face. Hopelessness and hatred had blended to leave her green and blue eyes scarcely human. She turned a killing look on Goat. ‘I wanted what you stole from me!’ Her voice was low, gravelly, but carried well. ‘So I put in my mind what you wanted to see. Did you think I wouldn’t know how to do that, you, who know so much about me? When you stole all my life from me, made my memories a mockery, didn’t you stop to think that I might hate you for it, but know how to hide that hate?’

  Goat’s eyes bugged out, yellower with terror and outrage than Ki had ever seen them. ‘Bitch!’ His shriek broke on the word. ‘Bitch, copper-haired bitch! You made me think you liked me, you made me think you cared for me!’

  Willow shook her head slowly, her red mane sweeping her shoulders. Her face was harder and colder than ice. ‘I hated you. Your touch on me was like rats scampering over my body. I loathed it. I loathed it!’ Willow screamed the last words, and Goat cowered. She looked desperately into Kellich’s face then, but his eyes did not change. He was not a man with deep wells of forgiveness within him. Her first error was to be her last.

  Willow saw it as surely as Ki did. She rose with a ponderous heaviness, slapped away Goat’s clutching hands. She moved away from him, into the circled watchers. ‘Kill him,’ she said to Kellich in passing. ‘It will not save anything for us, but it may save the next person he meets. Have no pity for him.’