Reisil’s stomach churned. What had he done? Nothing that anyone could see. She bit her lips. She couldn’t say anything. The treaty was too important. She wouldn’t be responsible for having the Iisand turn the townspeople out of their homes. And the wizard had attacked only her—maybe for spite. Maybe for entertainment. Maybe he wanted someone here to know that he was not cowed, any more than Kallas was.
Reisil had forgotten the fruit tarts and could not even eat half of one, so knotted was her stomach. After these were served along with hot wine and kohv, the entertainment commenced. Jugglers, singers, acrobats and musicians romped into the square with shouts and laughter. Tables were cleared from the center of the square to give them a stage. They performed well into the night, further relaxing the tension.
Reisil remained out of the way at her corner table, Raim having refused her offer of help.
“You’ve done enough for me today, my lovely tark. Time for you to enjoy.”
Kaval dropped down beside her and put an arm around her shoulders, nuzzling her neck as she snuggled fervently against him, wrapping herself in his warmth.
“I’ve wanted to see you all day,” he said in a low, intense voice. “My father’s kept me hopping. Not only that, but he’s decided I need to take on more responsibility. He wants me to go through the journey ledgers with him tonight.”
“Tonight?” Reisil asked, keen disappointment flooding through her. After the wizard’s attack, she wanted nothing more than to be held.
“He’s got to make payments to the other merchants he represented on this trip tomorrow.” Kaval shrugged. “He’s never allowed me into the books before. So I’m going to have to do without you for one more night.” He fingered the scarf she’d wrapped around her shoulders. “That looks beautiful on you. I knew it would.” He squeezed her hand. “Promise me you won’t run off with one of these Patversemese knights while I’m gone.”
He said it lightly, but Reisil could hear the blade of cold rage beneath.
“They’ll be gone tomorrow,” she placated, closing his hand in both of hers.
“Meanwhile we fawn at their feet like dogs hoping for a stroke on the belly. Look at us, making a spectacle, and for what? So that our enemies will feel comfortable and welcome.” Kaval pulled away and stood up. “I won’t be a part of it anymore, and I won’t watch. You shouldn’t either. You should go home.”
He swept off on a tide of anger, leaving Reisil feeling cold. She wanted to go home. But somehow she was unwilling to let the wizard see how much he’d shaken her. Not that he had paid her any attention after that last, long look. She’d watched him surreptitiously, but he’d never again looked her way.
“I don’t understand. Why has the bird not chosen?” Upsakes said quietly to Sodur at the foot of the table where Reisil sat. “I have never heard of anything like this before. It worries me.”
“You think something is interfering?”
“Such a thought has crossed my mind. But how could that be? Unless—” Upsakes trailed off. Reisil saw him turning to look up at the wizard.
“Surely not,” Sodur objected. “If the wizards could do such a thing, they would have long ago. The war would have gone much better for them.”
“Maybe it’s something new.” Upsakes looked up into the starlit night. “But I feel something is wrong. Very wrong indeed.”
The cold that had wrapped Reisil at Kaval’s departure deepened. She wanted to tell them about the wizard’s attack, but the Iisand’s threat stopped her. Instead she left the gathering, dodging Juhrnus when he would have intercepted her. She felt a moment’s pang of guilt. What if he was ill? Or his sisalik? But his expression said he merely wanted to bait her.
She hadn’t gone more than a few steps beyond the city gates when a shadow detached itself from the wall. Reisil jerked and spun about.
“Ho, m’girl. A bit jumpy tonight? Rightfully so. I came to warn you. Something’s brewing. Feel it in m’bones.”
“Nurema, you startled me.”
“You need a good scare. And you might just get more than you asked for. You got my message.” Reisil couldn’t see the other woman’s face in the shadows of the gate.
“I did,” she said. She felt her legs beginning to shake. A scare? The wizard had nearly killed her in full view of the town. And if he’d succeeded, it would have looked like she had choked to death. And the only person who could have argued otherwise would have been dead. She shuddered, realizing this was exactly why he had chosen her. He would have been able to test his powers without anyone being the wiser.
“Hmph. Well, I came to tell you myself. Don’t trifle with the Blessed Lady. You’ve a destiny. It may not be the one you wanted, but it’s the one you got. Better tote the load now or you’ll be regretting it later. That’s all I have to say.”
Nurema trotted past and down the road. Reisil ran after her.
“Wait!” She fumbled at her neck for the pendant. “I can’t keep this. It’s too expensive, too fine.”
The old woman shook her grizzled head. “It’s yours. Ask me about it someday and maybe I’ll tell you. You’re not ready now, though. Don’t want to hear it. Remember, you are what you are, no matter what path you put your feet to.”
With that cryptic remark, she sped off, leaving Reisil with the gryphon talisman dangling from her hand. She retied it about her neck, not entirely ungrateful to have it after the wizard’s attack, making her way home slowly, hardly noticing the sweet symphony of crickets and night birds or the creamy scent of early-blooming moon-flowers.
She stopped on her stoop and stared at the goshawk perched above her door. She waited a moment, wanting oddly to tell Saljane about the wizard’s attack. But she gave a slight shake of her head. Inside, she opened up the shutters and lit her rosemary candle. Saljane followed her in, strutting around her table, wings half-unfurled, pecking at the wood. Reisil ignored her and crawled into bed. Her head spun. Memories of the wizard’s attack, Nurema’s words and Kaval’s deep-seated hatred battered into each other and spun awry like ninepins.
She lay sleeplessly in bed wishing for Kaval. She wanted the comfort of his body hard against hers, his warmth and deft touch. When at last she fell asleep, her dreams were an unsettling combination of foreboding and aching yearning.
She woke the next morning with the sun streaming in her windows. It was midmorning, far later than she generally slept.
She sat up. Saljane perched on her footboard, staring at Reisil with unblinking eyes.
Reisil returned her regard for a few moments, then climbed out of bed. Saljane’s unrelenting stare discomfited her, but she forced herself to endure it. One day the bird would understand that Reisil could not be moved.
Her ribs ached, but the sharp edge of fear had dulled. The Dure Vadonis and his pet wizard would be moving on to Koduteel today. The wizard would have to behave where there were so many ahalad-kaaslane. There was no point risking Kallas by telling, especially without any proof.
Making that decision, Reisil dressed and loaded her pack, adding extra tonics for bellyaches. After last night, there would be plenty of people in need. She added a length of purple ribbon at the last moment. Ceriba had been friendly and kind, It wasn’t Ceriba’s fault that her brother had all the manners of a blue jay. The ribbon would make a good gift for her. But she wouldn’t tell Kaval about it. Reisil shook her head. He would not understand.
She set off into the humid morning, leaving the shutters wide open. Saljane followed after her, flying from tree to tree, keeping pace. When Reisil left the trees, Saljane winged away. Reisil breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
When she approached the gates of Kallas, she found them closed. A gravid silence hung over the city like a pall. Reisil stood before the gates, turning about in confusion. Seeing no gatekeeper or guards, she banged on the gatehouse door and called out. For a long time no one answered. Then a guard appeared above her on the battlements. He stared at her unsmiling.
“Kallas is closed.”
“Closed? What do you mean?”
“By order of the mayor and council. The gates of Kallas are sealed until further notice. No one leaves, no one enters.”
Just then bells began to toll from the four drum towers that cornered the walls of the town. Deep and sonorous, their tones resonated through her bones.
“What is it?” she demanded. “What’s happening?”
The guard disappeared and a moment later another took his place. This one Reisil recognized.
“Leidiik! What is happening? Why are the gates closed?”
“Best go home, Reisiltark. Someone stole the Dure Vadonis’s daughter last night.”
Chapter 5
The color drained from Reisil’s face. “Stole her? Ceriba? I don’t understand. Leidiik, please! What’s happened?”
He looked over his shoulder and leaned farther over the parapet, his voice dropping.
“She vanished from her rooms sometime last night. Her guards had their throats slit and there’s bloodstains on her bedding. Ahalad-kaaslane are searching Kallas now, hoping she’s still here somewhere, alive.”
For a moment Reisil was struck dumb. Then her tark instincts surged to the fore and she stood on tiptoe.
“Let me in, Leidiik. Maybe I can help.”
“Can’t do that. Safer outside anyhow. Patversemese are making all kinds of threats. With that wizard of theirs—remember Mysane Kosk.” His voice dropped and he made one of the old signs against evil.
“But you know me,” Reisil persisted, feeling the urgency like a hand pushing on her back. “And I’m needed in there.”
“Sorry, Reisiltark. Orders is orders.”
He disappeared then, returning to his watch. Reisil continued to stare up at the empty battlements for a long minute. Her mind spun furiously. Who would kidnap Ceriba? What could they gain from it? Ransom? Certainly the Dure Vadonis would not continue on to Koduteel to sign the treaty. Was that it? Did someone in Kallas hate the Patversemese so much that they would do such a thing? But that made no sense either. The Iisand Samir would certainly not hesitate to make good on his threat. Reisil couldn’t think of anyone who would risk that. It had to be someone else, someone not of Kallas.
Her mind flittered to the wizard in his scarlet robes, then dismissed him. He was evil, she had no doubt. His spiteful attack on her proved that. But he had nothing to gain by kidnapping Ceriba. If he wanted to keep the war going, there were better ways to make it happen than kidnapping the daughter of his liege lord. The cost of the Dure Vadonis’s discovering such treachery would be very high—the wizard would lose too much by that.
Reisil sighed. What did she know of politics? There were so many other possibilities she couldn’t even begin to guess at. What if this had nothing to do with Kallas or the treaty at all? If someone wanted to get at the Dure Vadonis’s family, this trip was a perfect opportunity. He could only bring a small honor guard. Anything else would look hostile or fearful. For all anyone knew, this could be an attack by one of his Patversemese enemies.
She retreated down the road. Instead of turning on the path to take her home, she continued past, going to Nurema and Teemart’s croft.
Nurema stood outside, one hand clutching the back of the bench where she and Reisil had sat two weeks ago. Her gaze was turned toward Kallas, as though she could see the town through the dense trees. The bells continued their sonorous tolling. Teemart knelt on the roof of the cottage, stolidly hammering at a loose shingle.
“What’s the racket about?”
“Kallas is closed. Ceriba cas Vadonis was kidnapped in the night.”
“Dure Vadonis’s daughter? Who do they think did it?”
“I don’t know.” Reisil repeated her conversation with Leidiik. “No one in Kallas would do such a thing, I’m sure of that. Not with what the Iisand Samir threatened.”
Nurema’s bark of laughter startled her.
“You are a child, aren’t you? Listen, girl. You’re thinking about people all wrong. The people of Kallas are patriotic. Never forget that. They love Kodu Riik and hate her enemies. For most, Patverseme is still an enemy. Oh, Rikutud’s thinking of the profits of new trade, but the rest—they don’t forgive or forget so easy. They aren’t so greedy. Maybe there’s someone in Kallas who thinks Iisand Samir is making a mistake. Maybe someone thinks any sacrifice made for his country is worth it. Maybe someone is willing to see every one of us turned out of house and home just so that Kodu Riik won’t have to get in bed with Patverseme. It’s not a question of good or evil, black or white. If someone from Kallas did it, he did it to be a patriot. He’s thinking he’s fighting evil.
“Now the real question is, what are you going to do about this mess?”
“Me?” Reisil’s voice squeaked and she swallowed her fear. Looming before her was the path she’d avoided for two weeks, the end of her life. She kept her voice steady with effort. “There’s nothing I can do. I can’t even get in the gates.”
“You’re certain of that?”
Reisil gave Nurema a blank stare. The other woman shook her head and sucked her teeth, then sat on the bench, gesturing for Reisil to sit also. Nurema scratched her head.
“You surprise me, girl. You go around, cool as anything, acting twice your years. Then in a heartbeat, you turn green as a cucumber. How can you be a tark if you don’t understand the world you live in? Oh, you know your herbs and plants and brews and medicines, but that isn’t all there is to being a tark. You don’t know the history, the values. Or maybe you do and you just don’t want to know. I told you, girl, you’ve got a destiny, and the Blessed Lady’s going to see you put your feet on her path, one way or another.
“Don’t argue now.” She held up a brown-spotted hand. “I’m going to tell you what you don’t want to know. The only folks can get in or out of Kallas right now are the ahalad-kaaslane. They don’t answer to Iisand Samir; they serve the Blessed Lady and Kodu Riik itself. Law of the land. They aren’t subject to anybody else’s rule. They come and go as they please. Oh, sure, the Iisands like to pretend they have governance of the ahalad-kaaslane, but it just isn’t so.”
Nurema stood up abruptly, her expression tightly closed. “I’m going to go weed my garden. Time for you to go weed yours.”
Reisil found herself at home and hardly knew how she’d gotten there. Nurema’s words wheeled around her mind, chasing and chasing until they cornered Reisil. She knew what she had to do. The tark in her wanted it, too. There wasn’t any choice anymore, if ever there was.
She confronted her cottage, examining every stone as if to implant it in her memory. Then she went inside, touching the walls, the bedstead, the shelves and windowsills. She went into the greenhouse and did the same, watering a drooping corbano plant. She returned to her cottage and stood in the doorway for long minutes, hardly seeing her carefully planned garden, the sprawling vines or the softly rustling trees.
There were no tears.
She went to her closet and rifled through, finding at last a winter vest of supple doeskin. She donned it, pulling the laces tight. Next she scrounged an old boot with holes in the toe that she had intended to patch. She cut off the shaft and slit it down the seam, tying it around her arm with strips of leather. Satisfied that it was secure, she turned to the door. As a quick afterthought, she grabbed up the scarf Kaval had given her, wadded it into a ball and shoved it in her pocket with Ceriba’s purple ribbon.
Last she unpinned her tark’s brooch from her shoulder and set it on her kitchen table, her fingers trembling as she drew her hand away.
Today, to be a tark, she had to become ahaladkaaslane . The irony of it burned in her throat and her stomach tightened.
She turned without a backward glance and went outside to the copse of fruit trees lining the edge of the bluff. Far below she could see the river sparkling like a silver gypsy ribbon. She loved the view, found it soothing on many occ
asions. But she had no head for heights and took her pleasure well away from the edge.
She closed her eyes and reached out with her mind.
Saljane did not come right away, and Reisil wasn’t sure the bird had even heard her call.
She called again.
A black speck appeared in the sky, circling. It grew bigger as it descended. Then suddenly it stooped, dropping like a stone. Saljane’s wings belled out at the last moment and caught the bird with a loud pop. The goshawk winged once around Reisil and settled onto the limb of the buckthorn. Her entire posture radiated challenge.
Silence swelled between them. Reisil did not know what to say and Saljane gave her no help, only stared, cocking her head back and forth as if trying to make up her mind about something.
“I need you.” The words burst out before Reisil knew what she wanted to say.
Fury. The goshawk mantled. Kek-kek-kek-kek.
Reisil tried again, wondering how much the bird could understand. The bird. Saljane.
“I am called Reisil. And you are called Saljane.”
~Yes. The goshawk inserted the word into her mind on the edge of a white-hot knife. Reisil flinched from the contact, but forced herself to continue.
“That means secret. Does that mean you have a secret? You are a secret?” My secret, thought Reisil guiltily. Then shrugged aside the thought, focusing on Saljane. “Why me?” She asked the question that had gnawed at her for weeks.
This time, instead of a word response, as she was becoming accustomed to with the goshawk, an image formed in her mind. Saljane perched on the arm of a woman. Reisil couldn’t make out the misty lines of her face. She had honey-blond hair. It cascaded to her feet in a thick wave, and was woven with chains of nuts and flowers. A circlet of silver oak leaves curved around her forehead. She wore a tunic and trews of green, patterned like the foliage of the forest. She held Saljane close to her and whispered something, then flung out her arm. Saljane launched into the air like a shot from a cannon.
The picture faded and Reisil found herself staring deeply into Saljane’s amber eyes.
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