The towline secure, the anchor was hauled up and Voli and his men hauled the boat closer to the bank. A second line was thrown to the waiting man and he secured it to another tree ten paces downstream from the first. The two lines held the boat away from the rocks on the shore with the aid of the hungry current and the anchor, which once again had been dropped, this time tossed as far as possible toward the opposite bank.
“You’ve done this before,” commented Sodur.
“Hardest part now is to keep from getting hit. Best to pull her out of the water, but too many rocks and too steep. Pikemen on the stern will shove off stray logs. Won’t be long, though. River’s rising—natural dam. Get a few more logs hitting—you can figure on tomorrow evening. Be in Priede before you know it.”
Sodur gave Upsakes a frowning look and Reisil knew he was thinking of the Dure Vadonis. Ceriba’s father had said at best he could hold off three or four days before notifying Karalis Vasalis and Iisand Samir of Ceriba’s kidnapping—if the envoy from Koduteel cooperated. If the logjam held until the next evening, two days would be gone. And Ceriba would be two days farther away. Reisil’s mouth went dry. War. There would be more war. More death and more lost friends, lost brothers, lost hands and feet and legs and eyes. Another Mysane Kosk. What was Kaval thinking? There was no patriotism in this. None at all.
The man who’d braved the currents to secure the mooring lines to the trees came back aboard, kicking his legs in the water as he drew himself hand over hand along a taut line. Reisil applied a salve to the rock abrasions and the rope welts around his waist and ribs, giving him willow bark to chew.
“No need for all this trouble,” he said, brown eyes cast down as she gently rubbed the salve into his bruised and broken skin. “It’ll heal up good. Don’t need to bother ahalad-kaaslane with it.”
“I want to be bothered,” she replied with asperity. “Besides, why shouldn’t I see to your injuries? It was a brave thing you did for us.”
Color seeped into his gaunt brown cheeks and he twisted his ragged hair, burying his chin in his hunched shoulders. “Just my turn is all.”
“Well, you served us well and we are grateful.”
Reisil left him there to sleep in the narrow shade of the long storage box that housed the pikes. At the stern of the boat the crewmen laughed and shouted as a log barreled past and rammed the jam with a thundering crack. The tangle shuddered and held, the newest arrival rasping sideways to nudge and thump against its brethren.
Upsakes, Sodur and Juhrnus ate lunch from their stores, and Reisil realized that her own stomach was grumbling again. She drew bread and cheese from her pack and sat apart from her fellow ahalad-kaaslane. Sodur had been kind and she appreciated his amity, but she did not relish the company of Juhrnus or Upsakes. The latter man was clearly angry with her and resented her inclusion on this journey.
She shrugged and found a spot at the bow of the boat, dangling her feet off the edge below the rail. She wanted to be making this journey as little as Upsakes wanted her to be. But that did not change her obligation to Ceriba. To the Lady. Despite her reluctance to accept becoming ahalad-kaaslane, when at last Reisil had shouldered the burden, she had done so willingly. Just as she had taken up the burden of finding Ceriba—a more personal mission now that she knew Kaval had a hand in the kidnapping. She would not lay those burdens down for anyone.
She ate slowly, her back to her companions, watching the waters of the river slide by, sending bits of flotsam and jetsam into the harbors of the rock teeth, pushed there on waves of foam. That was her, she thought. Torn from her home, carried on a current not of her own making, bouncing against rocks, searching for a save haven.
Kebonsat knelt beside her. His face was a polite mask. Not even the muscles in his jaws clenched to give away the fury and frustration he must feel. Somewhere in his young life he’d been taught unrelenting control. But Reisil saw it in his eyes. That and desperation. She remembered the smile he’d exchanged with Ceriba, the affection and joy they had shared together. She had no doubt that there was no limit to what he’d do to regain his sister.
“I have need,” he said. “If you are willing.”
His peculiar emphasis on if made her cautious.
“What can I do?”
“Call back your bird.”
She stared at him in surprise. He made a sound low in his throat and thumped a fist against the rail, his control cracking. “Damn it! I don’t want to leave her alone with those bastards. But with your bird’s help, we can break the jam. We can’t afford to lose days. Even with your bird showing us the way, they could decide to kill her anytime. Or worse.”
Reisil didn’t want to think about “or worse.”
“What do you want of Saljane?”
Kebonsat hesitated. “Koijots is not a wizard.”
Reisil frowned. Not a wizard. Why would Kebonsat bother to tell her that? She waited for him to continue.
“He is not a wizard,” he repeated, “but he does have some magical abilities. He might actually have become quite powerful, but he would have had to join the Guild—” Kebonsat paused again as if choosing his words. “He would have suicided before that. So instead my father made him a tracker. His loyalty and skills have served my family well. What he does now . . . it’s a risk for him if it’s revealed to the Guild.” He waved a hand at the crew and ahalad-kaaslane. “But he’s willing to risk it, for Ceriba’s sake.”
“What would you need of Saljane?” Reisil asked. Except for Kvepi Buris, she’d never been close to the making of magic. And now Kebonsat wanted her, wanted Saljane, to aid in a spell. She gripped her hands together to keep them from trembling.
“Nothing dangerous,” he said reassuringly. “Koijots’s spell won’t work unless it’s carried over to the logjam. She’ll have to place it where he says and that’s all.”
Reisil nodded, deciding. Time was running out. “I’ll ask her.”
Reisil closed her eyes, feeling a crawling along her spine. They were watching her, the other ahaladkaaslane, curious about what Kebonsat was up to with her.
~Saljane?
Presence.
~How fare you, Saljane?
Hunger. Hunt.
Reisil tried again, hoping for something more tangible. Words.
~We need you here.
Curiosity.
~There’s a logjam. A spell could break it up, but they need your help in placing it.
She put her palms over her eyes, curling her fingers into her hair, and tried to create a picture in her mind. Instead she found herself unable to focus, fragments of the last weeks intruding, chief among them Kaval. Tears squeezed from her tightly shut eyes and she pressed harder with her palms. She wasn’t ready to think of him yet. Slowly she built the image of the tangle of logs damming their path. She willed Saljane to see, wishing she had the power to bring the bird into her mind as Saljane did her.
Her vision canted suddenly and her mindscape was full of whirling green. Then it settled and she realized that Saljane perched at the top of the tree canopy. The whirling green was Saljane’s swift-moving gaze sweeping across the panorama of wind-tossed trees. In the near distance, Reisil saw the thrust of gray mountains rising above the forest. The Dumu Griste mountains.
Saljane’s hunger twisted in Reisil’s own gut. The goshawk hadn’t eaten since the blue grouse the previous day and it had hardly been enough to dull the gnawing in her belly then. Reisil said nothing. She would not ask Saljane to do more than she would, not on the fragile link that held them together. It was possible that Saljane would hunt swiftly and wing her way back before nightfall. They could be in Priede early in the morning, if no logs bashed them in the night.
Suddenly Saljane launched, up and up. Reisil gasped and rocked back and forth, her stomach bounding into her throat and then dropping to her toes.
“What is it? Are you all right?” Kebonsat put his hand on her rigid shoulder.
“Flying,” she said through clenched teeth. “High.”<
br />
“Is she coming?”
Reisil shuddered as Saljane flipped almost sideways, buffeted by winds. A storm was moving in over the mountains. There’s no danger, she told herself. You’re back on the boat. Only your mind is with Saljane.
The wind sang along the edges of her wings as the goshawk coasted on a current. Saljane could feel her ahalad-kaaslane struggling against her rising panic. The bird crooned soundlessly. Reisil felt the croon vibrate in the marrow of her bones, and with it a flower of delight bloomed inside her at this sign of concern.
“Fish,” she said to Kebonsat, her hands still over her eyes. “She’ll be hungry.” Then she gave herself up to the flight.
By the time Saljane returned, Reisil had managed to relax enough to enjoy the sensation of flying without feeling as if she were going to throw up. The landscape spread out against her inner eye in odd shapes intermixed with carefully tended fields and cots. As Saljane approached the silver ribbon of the Sadelema, Reisil stood, extending her arm. Saljane circled, then plummeted down, snapping her wings wide and landing gently on the outstretched arm, her talons closing convulsively on the leather gauntlet.
Reisil pulled her around to stroke shaking fingers over the bird’s smooth head. She grinned with the wonder she felt sharing their flight and landing. The goshawk dipped her beak and again Reisil felt that croon and the flower inside bloomed larger.
~There’s fish for you.
Saljane flapped to the deck, where Kebonsat tossed one of a dozen trout he and Glevs had caught during Saljane’s return flight. The silver and rainbow-hued fish flopped on the polished wood. Saljane snatched it in her talons and flew to the rail, where she proceeded to tear and bolt the flesh. She ate three more in quick succession before Reisil stopped her.
~You’ll not be able to fly if you eat all of them at once.
Saljane dropped the head of the fish she’d just finished and scraped her beak against the rail to clean it.
~Are you ready?
Reisil glanced at the sun. An hour or two of daylight left. If the spell worked quickly, they’d be in Priede by nightfall.
“What’s going on?” Upsakes stood with his feet braced wide, hands on his hips. A dose of laudanum taken with his lunch had put him to sleep, and Reisil had been glad that he had not observed her rapport with Saljane or Koijots’s preparations for the spell. Looking at the elder ahalad-kaaslane now, his eyelids drooped over bloodshot eyes. “What is your ahalad-kaaslane doing here, girl?” he demanded.
Reisil glanced at Kebonsat and back.
“I called her.”
“Why?”
“I needed her.”
Upsakes face twisted. Reisil took a step back. Was this the same man who had been so congenial, if superior and haughty, these last weeks in Kallas? Sodur laid a hand on Upsakes’s shoulder and gave Reisil a sober, questioning look.
“My tracker has a means to destroy the logjam, with the bird’s help,” Kebonsat said, shifting to stand between Reisil and Upsakes. “It’s a minor spell and should do the trick, if it’s placed correctly.”
With his explanation, Upsakes’s fury increased, his eyes bulging, veins standing out on his neck and forehead. Sodur’s hand tightened, but Upsakes pulled free, shoving the other man aside. Lume snarled as his ahalad-kaaslane stumbled and fell. Juhrnus helped Sodur up, his sisalik hissing. Upsakes’s weirmart reared up and bared her teeth, gathering herself to launch at Kebonsat’s face. Before she could, Saljane flung herself into the air and beat at the ahalad-kaaslane pair with her wings. Upsakes swung at her but she flipped aside, avoiding the blow. He fell heavily on one knee, unable to recover his balance after his lunging swing. Before he could do more, Sodur and Juhrnus took him by the arms. He struggled against their grip, swearing viciously. When he realized he couldn’t free himself, he turned on Reisil.
“Wizardry! Here? After what they did at Mysane Kosk! And you—helping them with it. Traitor to Kodu Riik! Traitor to the Blessed Amiya!” He fairly shrieked his accusations, his pupils so dilated his eyes appeared black. Spittle ran down his chin and he nearly wrenched free of Sodur’s and Jurhnus’s restraining grips. Reisil blanched and her stomach churned. Still she refused to back down, refused to look away. She reached out mentally for Saljane’s support, needing the strength of her steel-edged mind.
“I am ahalad-kaaslane,” she found herself saying, and wished immediately that she hadn’t. She might have Saljane, but she’d not come to this willingly. It seemed wrong to claim it when she hadn’t yet earned it. Did she want to earn it? The question startled her and she surprised herself with the answer. Yes. Yes, she did. But on her terms. She would do what she knew was necessary and right, no less.
“I am ahalad-kaaslane,” she repeated more clearly. “I serve Kodu Riik and the Blessed Lady in the fashion I believe best.”
Reisil turned to Koijots, who remained a silent observer, his eyes blue as deep water. “What do you need Saljane to do?”
He held out his palm. On it rested a thin piece of leather. A complex construction of thread, leaves, hair and sticks stuck up stiffly from the leather base. Reisil frowned at it and then back up at him.
“That’s it?”
“It’s enough, placed properly,” he replied in an unexpectedly soft voice. But then he was a tracker and silence was his way.
“Where?”
“There. See in the middle near the bottom where the three logs have splintered? See that smaller branch, shaped like a half moon, the bark still green and white? There.”
Reisil repeated the instructions to Saljane, though the goshawk made it impatiently clear she already understood.
~Be careful. Those logs could shift and catch you. Be swift, ahalad-kaaslane.
Reisil’s mind caught on the last word in a flash of revelation. Earlier in the day she’d asked Saljane if she remembered her name, and the reply had been ahaladkaaslane . Suddenly Reisil understood that Saljane had intended no insult, a refusal to know her. It was an endearment. It meant someone close to the heart, soul-kin. Reisil stroked Saljane’s chest, a lump in her throat at the rush of emotion she felt for her.
~I have been stupid, haven’t I? I will try to be better.
The response from Saljane was both impatience to begin, and the emotional equivalent of the tolerant smile adults give to children who have just realized an important lesson.
Reisil placed the leather loop handle Koijots had attached to his spell in Saljane’s beak. The goshawk fluttered into the air and flew to the logs. Reisil held her breath. For the first time she became aware of the creaking shift of the massive pile, fully twenty feet high, and how loud the river sounded, pounding against the logs.
Chapter 8
Saljane clambered to the correct spot in fluttering hops, talons gripping the slick, wet wood with splintering strength.
“Gently, gently,” Koijots whispered, drumming his fingers on the rail. Reisil was surprised. When first she’d met him, he’d had the self-contained air of a hunting cat, relentlessly patient.
Upsakes continued to mutter epithets and Sodur and Jurhnus retained their sharp hold on him. The weirmart wound around to reach her ahalad-kaaslane’s face, licking his cheeks with worried absorption. Upsakes shook the little animal off with a bull-like bellow and the weirmart ducked down, clinging with all her might to his surging shoulders.
Reisil clutched the rail, unable to do anything more than watch. Suddenly the pikemen at the bow of the boat shouted. Thunder sounded and the boat jerked and leaped like a child’s toy on the end of a string. The group at the stern stumbled together and Upsakes tore free to scrabble over the rail. Sodur caught him, Lume’s mouth closing around the powerful man’s ankle. Upsakes hardly noticed. Juhrnus and Glevs closed to help, and between them they wrestled the angry man to the deck. His weirmart squalled and yowled from beneath the tangle of bodies, but never loosed her companion.
The boat dipped. Reisil felt the deck below her shudder as logs hit it one after another. Nine thunder
ous bangs in all. The squeal of wood scraping along the hull echoed in the air, and Reisil felt the deck twist and buck as if a sea serpent roiled beneath. Voli shouted orders and the pikemen shoved on the great, tumbling tree stems.
Forgetting her mindlink to Saljane, she screamed warning to the bird.
“Saljane! Look out!”
The horde of logs crashed into the jam with a deafening sound. Jets of foaming spray exploded upward, drenching the deck. Like thrown matchsticks they tumbled, end over end, careening wildly. One shot straight up like a giant’s arrow, falling in a long, graceful arc to smash down on top of the jam with a crack of thunder, only to tumble free on the other side. Reisil gripped the rail with white fingers. There was no sign of Saljane in the maelstrom.
At last there was calm. Not silence. The swollen river continued to rush, the logs thumped and rubbed, waves and foam washing over them. The crew cheered for themselves, that they had kept the boat from capsizing, that the logs had struck glancing blows and not holed the hull. Reisil would have cheered too, but she still didn’t see Saljane. Koijots stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her, searching the wreckage. Reisil searched the sky.
~Ahalad-kaaslane.
Tears sprang into Reisil’s eyes and she whirled around, eyes raking the air.
~Where are you?
~Here.
She heard a whistling and Saljane winged past, the spell still dangling from her beak.
Koijots muttered something and turned to Reisil.
“It can still be done. I think. There as before, lower now, but quickly, before these new logs set. It’ll take more than I’ve got if that happens.”
Path of Fate Page 15