She examined the surroundings, debating whether to ride on and leave them to sort themselves out. Riding alone did not worry her, though she carried no weapons and wouldn’t know how to use them if she did. She didn’t fear attacks from bandits. She had more to fear from Upsakes, she thought. He didn’t like her and was clearly capable of a rabid violence. She pitied his poor weirmart, whose plaintive cries had grown more forlorn and desperate as the pounding brawl progressed. She gritted her teeth, annoyed. If she left them, she would only have to find them again later. Time was too much a factor.
So she stood at a distance, watching. After a while their movements grew ponderous, their blows inflicting less damage. Both were blood-soaked and bruised, with swollen lips, eyes and knuckles. Glevs had broken his nose. They drew apart, eyeing each other, then closed again with grunts and curses. All this Reisil cataloged through narrowed eyes, her mouth pinched tight, her nostrils flaring. She supposed Upsakes would be wanting a tark after this. Well, he could bloody well do without!
“Let them look after themselves,” she said aloud.
“Seems they are doing just that.”
Reisil gave a glad cry and twisted about. Kebonsat, Sodur and Juhrnus had come out of the forest, no doubt drawn by the noise of the fight.
“What’s this all about?” Sodur asked, pulling his horse up beside her as he eyed the two combatants.
“Pissing contest,” Reisil said.
“Ah. Just so.”
“You are well?” Kebonsat asked, crossing his wrists over his pommel, his face ominous as he glanced from her black eye to the spectacle before them. “You have been with these rogues?”
Reisil shook her head. “I got separated.” She reached up and touched her eye. The swelling had gone down with a compress of cold river water and witch hazel. “This was just a bump in the night.”
“You wandered about alone through that mess?” Juhrnus sounded surprised and a little bit impressed. Pride surged in Reisil.
“Not alone. I had Saljane and the horse.” She patted the gelding’s golden shoulder. “The company could have been worse.”
“Indeed,” Sodur said meaningfully.
Glevs at last noticed that their audience had grown. He disentangled himself from Upsakes and turned a glad face to Kebonsat.
“Bright heavens! I am pleased to see you.” His nose angled strangely in the middle.
“So I see.”
Glevs had the grace to look shamefaced as he wiped a trickle of blood from his cheek.
“What’s this all about?” Flames tipped in blue ice burned in Kebonsat’s eyes.
“Just settling an argument,” Upsakes said, brushing dirt and grass off his clothing. Like Glevs, his knuckles and hands were bloody and bruised. His left eye was swollen shut while the other was merely a slit. He ignored his weirmart, who clung to his boot, whimpering piteously. “Nothing to trouble anyone else about.”
“Then you won’t mind if we get started after my sister?” Kebonsat said in a frigid voice. “Has anyone seen Koijots?”
Glevs explained what had happened. Kebonsat’s knuckles whitened as he clenched his reins, but he gave no other outward sign of his reaction. But Reisil knew that the two had been close, that Kebonsat had depended on the other man’s counsel and friendship. This was a hard blow, made worse by the fact that with every passing moment, Ceriba was slipping farther away.
“Lume will pick up their sent,” Sodur reassured him. “Shouldn’t be hard. They left a pretty clear trail through the forest. No reason to start hiding it here.”
“I’ve lost my horse,” Upsakes said.
“And mine isn’t worth a damn. She can’t put weight on that foreleg,” Glevs added, sounding as though he were talking through wool, an effect of his broken nose.
“Koijot’s horse?” Juhrnus asked. Reisil glanced at him in surprise. He was thinking.
“Ran off when we sprang the wizard trap,” Upsakes answered. “Probably halfway to Priede by now.”
“Then we’ll have to switch off,” Kebonsat said decisively. “Turn your mare loose, Glevs. She’ll find her way back. Pair up and spread out. Give a shout if you find the trail. Reisiltark, ride with me.”
He turned his mount in the direction of the river canyon and Reisil followed. Sodur and Juhrnus turned the opposite way, leaving Glevs and Upsakes to sort themselves out.
Kebonsat kicked his horse into an easy jog, scanning the ground as they went. He rode in silence for a while, then said, “I had hoped you were not alone in the darkness. Tell me what happened.”
So Reisil related her story to him, pausing here and there to pat the gelding’s shoulder or stroke Saljane, who had moved down to perch on the pommel of the saddle. When she was through, silence descended again, and Reisil was glad not to have to say more, concentrating instead on keeping her seat. Her wounds continued to ache.
“You are a remarkably brave woman,” Kebonsat said suddenly. Reisil experienced a thrill of pleasure at his praise. There were expectations for the ahalad-kaaslane: that they would be resourceful, courageous, capable and wise—otherwise why would the Blessed Lady choose them? She felt none of those things. She could cook and mend a broken arm, she could counsel a mother through the grief of losing a child, but she was not rugged, she was not at home in the field or forest, under the stars in mountains or deserts. She was useless in a fight. Still, she had kept going in that dreadful darkness when she might have given up; she had found a campsite with food and water; she had retraced her trail back to her companions. All but Koijots. She shivered. She had nearly walked off the edge of the bluff. A few steps more—She shivered again.
Suddenly Kebonsat pulled up and dismounted, crouching on the ground, his fingers playing over the earth.
“Got you,” he muttered.
He stood and took the hunting horn from his saddle and blew three notes to call the other four searchers back. The sound echoed down the valley. He said nothing as he put up the horn, staring up at the mountains as if demanding they draw aside and reveal his sister. His lips were pressed into a flat line.
“I’m sorry about Koijots,” Reisil said into the silence ranging from him like ripples in a deep, dark pool. He glanced at her and she saw that the flames in his eyes continued to burn with that curious blending of white-hot flames and glacial-blue ice.
“He shouldn’t have died. It’s all wrong.”
“It was an accident,” Reisil said comfortingly. “I very nearly did the same thing.”
Kebonsat made an angry chopping gesture in the air and turned to face her. She felt the intensity of his gaze like a blow and recoiled.
“You are not understanding me. He would not have walked over a cliff into a ravine because he would not have been blind in that darkness. He had wizard-sight.”
“I don’t understand. What is that—wizard-sight?”
“Wizards can see in the dark without any light at all. It’s the basic hallmark of wizardry. Supposedly a gift of the Demonlord. Even the least talented magic-wielder can see in the dark.”
“All of them?”
Kebonsat drew a breath and let it out. “It’s the way the Guild sorts out people with power from those who don’t. Every Sanctuary has a testing gate. It always leads into a lightless maze that ends somewhere in the inner sanctums. The mazes change constantly. Parents bring their children, vagrants come—” He broke off, grimacing. “Anyway, when he was a boy, Koijots was made to walk one of them. He used his sight to escape. So no, he would not have just fallen into a ravine in the dark. Something else happened.”
Reisil stared at him, jumping quickly to the obvious conclusion.
“You’re saying that Glevs or Upsakes—”
“Or both of them,” he broke in, his voice bleak as an empty well.
“Killed Koijots.”
“Handy, too, that Glevs’s horse has come up lame, and the two belonging to Koijots and Upsakes have gone missing.”
“Oh, my Lady,” Reisil breathed. “But they
must know you’ll suspect them!”
“Maybe. Koijots was a cadgey one. He might have pretended that he couldn’t see. Maybe he even suspected them.”
“He never said anything to you?”
Kebonsat shook his head. “But he was like you. He didn’t trust any one of us but me, and I think you.”
“Me?”
Kebonsat smiled at her surprise. “You found Ceriba with Saljane. Both you and your bird nearly died in the river. And you stood up to the others to do it. As I said, you are a remarkable woman and Koijots was no fool.”
Reisil blushed, trying to think of something to say to turn his attention away from her embarrassment. “He didn’t trust even Glevs? Even though you did? Hasn’t he been with you awhile?”
“Yes. I have always trusted Glevs without question.” Reisil read unfamiliar doubt and self-recrimination on his face. “His family has long supported House Vadonis. His grandfather died saving mine. I would have trusted him with my life. With Ceriba’s life. It is lucky I have not yet had the opportunity to tell him the information you confided to me the other night.”
“So what do we do now?”
“They’ll try to delay us more. That fight was likely a way to throw off the scent of collaboration, as well as to slow your search for the rest of us. I don’t like to think about what would have happened if you had stepped in to stop them—you wouldn’t have stood much of a chance, even with Saljane’s help.”
Reisil stared at him, dry-mouthed and wide-eyed. Certainly Upsakes didn’t like her. But Glevs had treated her with utmost thoughtfulness and courtesy. Would they really have tried to kill her? That Kebonsat believed it with granite certainty made her insides tremble.
She thought of Kaval. He had said he loved her, had defended her from the other children growing up. And yet look what he’d done to Ceriba. Why should she not believe that Upsakes and Glevs could be capable of murder? If Kebonsat spoke true, and she thought it likely, then they’d already killed once. It would have been nothing to add another body to their total.
She inhaled deeply, refusing to give in to the panic that swept through her. She’d been close to death three times now on this journey—in the river, on the bluff, and now with Glevs and Upsakes.
And there would be more.
This iwas what it meant to be ahalad-kaaslane. To confront evil in the Lady’s name. Just as tarks healed in Her name.
“So what do we do?” Her voice was low but steady. Kebonsat looked at her and on his face she read approval tinged with relief. She realized suddenly that he needed her to be strong, that his world had been tilted and shaken up and he felt no more on solid ground than she did. Instead of frightening her, the realization calmed her. You are what you pretend to be. Be calm. Be confident.
“I’d like to get rid of them, but I don’t see how—not without proof. And we still don’t know about Sodur and Jurhnus. We must be very, very careful. Let’s hope we can speed our journey without springing any more booby traps.” And hope Ceriba would be alive when they got to her. He didn’t say it, but it hung between them all the same.
“I can’t believe Upsakes’s weirmart would let him . . .”
Reisil paused, remembering the little creature’s pitiful cries in the grass as the two men fought. And what could she do to stop him? She thought of the way Saljane could enter her mind, take it over at need like a steel trap snapping. But Reisil opened herself to Saljane, allowing it to happen, and she never lost control of her mind doing so. Maybe the Blessed Lady would intervene. In kidnapping Ceriba, Upsakes had renounced his duty to Her and to Kodu Riik. But maybe he didn’t see it that way.
She remembered Nurema’s caution. Kaval and Upsakes and Glevs—they might all think of themselves as patriots, saving their countries from evil. And if the job of the ahalad-kaaslane was to confront and defeat evil, was not Upsakes doing just that? At least in his own mind? He’d be obligated to, she remembered Leidiik telling her., Iif he believed the treaty was a horrible mistake for Kodu Riik.
And who was Reisil to say otherwise? He’d been ahalad-kaaslane far longer than she. He knew more, had seen more. Should she be helping him?
Reisil thought of Ceriba, the way her captor had kicked her, her sobs. No. The Blessed Lady could not countenance that. She would not have sent Saljane if She did not want Reisil to try to stop them.
Reisil met Kebonsat’s gaze squarely.
“We’ll have to watch our backs and get proof. In the meantime, we must not let them know of our suspicions. Can you do that?” he asked.
“What’s the choice? I will do what I have to,” Reisil replied, hearing something larger in her words. Would she do what she had to do? Even if it meant killing? Could she do such a thing?
Yes. Her stomach twisted and heaved and she fought it back. Yes, because she was ahalad-kaaslane. Yes, because she was a tark and if she did not, if she hesitated in a crucial moment, then Mysane Kosk might happen again. Many people would die on both sides. She could not let that happen, not if it was in her power to prevent it.
“Ho! We heard the horn. Have you found the trail?” Upsakes called as he and Glevs mounted the hillside. Their bruises had begun to worsen. Reisil didn’t know how Upsakes could even see anymore, so swollen were his eyes. Just then Sodur and Juhrnus cantered up from the opposite direction.
“Trail goes straight into the mountains. Lucky that storm was all wind and flash. Not enough rain to wash away the tracks.”
“Lucky,” Juhrnus repeated.
Kebonsat shot him a look. “Very lucky.”
“Let’s see how far we can get then, shall we? Lume should be able to keep us on the right track,” Sodur said in his desultory way, which Reisil found calming. “We’ve got about three hours of light.” He surveyed the group. “We’ll double up. Juhrnus, you ride behind Reisiltark.”
Reisil started and looked askance, Juhrnus no less so. Sodur gave him a hard, warning look before turning to the others.
“Upsakes, you’re bigger than Glevs. Take Juhrnus’s horse. Glevs, up here behind me.”
The changes were quickly made, though both Upsakes and Glevs groaned pitifully as they struggled to mount. Juhrnus said nothing as he hooked his toe into the stirrup Reisil freed for him and swung up behind her. His chest was warm against her back, though she held herself stiffly apart. His sisalik rode on his shoulder, the thick, fleshy black tongue thrusting slowly in and out as he tasted the air.
They followed the tracks up into the mountains, and promptly lost them. Lume kept the scent, however, and they continued on in silence, the pace as fast as could be managed with the overloaded horses. At dusk they began a long, curving descent into the river canyon, far above Reisil’s campsite. Conversation turned quickly to the wizard night.
“Had to be the spell on the boat. Warned them we were following,” Upsakes insisted. “Or that tracker did it himself. Was one of the kidnappers.”
Reisil tensed, waiting for Kebonsat’s explosive response. But he didn’t hear. He was prowling the edges of the camp.
“I doubt that. He If he wanted to delay us, he wouldn’t have broken the logjam. More likely it was some sort of magical trip line. Precautionary,” Sodur said.
“Will they know we’ve triggered it?” Reisil wondered.
“It’s hard to say. By getting Ceriba out of Kallas at night with the gates closed, they’ll assume we spent our time searching the town thoroughly before turning our attention outside. As we would have, if Saljane hadn’t found her trail,” he said with a slight tip of his head toward Reisil. “With any luck, they’ll believe themselves safely away. My guess is that the wizard night was just an added safeguard. With any luck, the wizard who set it won’t want to be bothered with keeping track of it, especially since they shouldn’t be expecting pursuit so quickly.”
His logic seemed unimpeachable and the conversation turned to the trail ahead.
Soon after, Kebonsat set the watch, flicking a meaningful glance at Reisil. They could not affor
d to sleep through any of the others’ watches. Covertly they would have to maintain an extra watch of their own. Seeing his look, Reisil dipped her chin toward Saljane.
During the ride she and her ahalad-kaaslane had had a silent discussion about Kebonsat’s suspicions. Saljane had agreed that Upsakes might have participated in Ceriba’s kidnapping, surprising Reisil with her calm acceptance of the possibility.
~You don’t think it’s unlikely that he might have done this? Reisil pressed. He is, after all, ahalad-kaaslane.
~He must do as he believes the Lady would wish. He must protect Kodu Riik and all Her people.
×~But if She disagreed, wouldn’t She stop him?
~The Lady does what is best. And we are here.
×~But this will lead us to war again. This will kill many, many people in Kodu Riik and Patverseme both!
~Then we must stop him.
~How can he think this is right?
Even in her mind Reisil wailed the question like a child who had been betrayed. All her life the ahaladkaaslane had represented justice and right in Kodu Riik. Their presence meant evil could not hide, and the weak and powerless would be safe. Saljane’s answer, though correct, gave her no real satisfaction.
~He must believe or he would do otherwise..
Now, as the fire flickered and popped, Saljane blinked her shining amber eyes at Reisil.
~I will watch. I have rested much and will sleep tomorrow.
Exhaustion embraced Reisil and she fell into a heavy sleep, as Kebonsat rolled out his blankets near hers.
Juhrnus wakened her the next morning and she sat up groggily, her eyes dry and scratchy. He was curiously restrained, saying no more than a word or two to her. He saddled the dun gelding in the shadowy predawn and loaded up her saddle packs. Reisil quickly ate her breakfast of stale bread and cold fish, washing the dusty, dry crumbs down with cold river water.
~Did anything happen last night? she asked Saljane.
~They snored, the bird replied, with an image of Upsakes and Glevs. Reisil smiled around her food. They would snore, one with a broken nose and the other with all that swelling. She’d straightened Glevs’s nose, but could do little else for it. Kebonsat and Sodur had frowned on her trying to ameliorate the swelling or pain. So long as the other two could function, they deserved the consequences of their nonsense. Was it the ahaladkaaslane coming out in her that she heartily agreed? Reisil wondered. But it was more than that. Their pain might help make the two men off balance, distract them from any plots they might be hatching.
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