“A word, Kebonsat. And you, healer. Privately.”
He walked away several paces, out of the hearing of their companions. Reisil exchanged a puzzled look with Sodur before following, transferring Saljane to her shoulder as she did.
Edelsat’s expression was grim and faintly uncertain. In that moment Reisil realized how young he must be, only a handful of years older than she, probably close in age to Kebonsat. And we are going to prevent a war, she marveled. A few weeks ago I wouldn’t have imagined I could do more than set a bone or settle an argument.
“My father put me and my men under your direct command for the defense of Patverseme,” he said to Kebonsat. “Though he ordered me not to reveal this information, I believe it my duty to you as my superior to report all information that might aid in our success.” He eyed Kebonsat as if aware that he was cutting the point too fine, and then looked away. “It will explain my father’s recent decisions, beyond what he told you. I am revealing this in your presence,” he said to Reisil, “for reasons that will become obvious.”
“Slippery honor,” Kebonsat muttered, and Edelsat’s face flushed as he straightened, baring his teeth.
“Maybe so. But careful how you judge.” He swallowed, then continued. “Two weeks ago, riders in official messenger livery appeared at our gates. They claimed to bear messages that could only be communicated to my father in private. Being who they were, my father took them into his study immediately. He met with them for fifteen minutes and then they departed.
“After a while, I went in to see what had passed and found my father collapsed in his chair, white as death, eyes blank as the sun. I shook him, but he did not rouse. I shouted and splashed water in his face. At last he came ’round, though I thought he’d been robbed of his mind. He stared without knowing me, and though his mouth worked and spittle ran down his chin, he made no sounds. So it was for more than a day. I did not leave his side. My sisters and brother, my mother, I refused them all entrance. They could not see my father in such a state.
“Night fell on the day after and I was lighting candles. I did not expect him to speak and so when he did, I dropped my taper. It was as if a ghoul from a child’s story had spoken in a voice from beyond the grave, cold, empty, far away. He had not yet recovered his wits, or he would not have told me what I am telling you now. Later he made me promise never to reveal it. But I cannot do that. I cannot!” He ran agitated fingers through his hair, pulling hanks of it free from its braid.
Reisil felt a pang of pity for Edelsat, torn between his father and personal honor. She glanced at Kebonsat to see his reaction. The condemnation for Edelsat had disappeared, and now he appeared both curious and concerned. Not for the first time she found herself admiring him—he was not so proud that he would not hear the other side, that he wouldn’t set aside his own concerns and open his heart to another man’s troubles.
“Messengers will deliver any message, for a price, and are above reproach in their confidentiality They never disclose secrets. They would die before that—and many have, killed by their own hands or the torturer’s.
“They are too expensive to hire for any but for things of the greatest import, so when one appears on your doorstep, you meet with him without delay. Two mean cataclysm, devastation. Gravest tidings. In this case, the two messengers came straight from the bowels of the Demonlord.”
Kebonsat’s hand fell instinctively on the pommel of his sword and Reisil touched the amulet beneath her shirt. Edelsat drew a ragged breath and continued, his hands dangling against his thighs.
“They told my father that men would be riding through his lands with a woman—your sister—and that he must provide supplies, shelter and horses for them. They explained that she had been kidnapped, that she might ask for succor, and he must refuse. If he did not cooperate, our people would suffer. My father refused them violently and tried to throw them out. They had other ideas. They forced my father into a chair and held him by arcane force. Then one turned insubstantial—wraithlike is what my father called it. He let out a strange call—like a song of deepest yearning—and it was answered by my mother.”
Edelsat paused, breathing hard, his face red, tears tracking down his cheeks as he clenched and unclenched his fists.
“My father watched as the messenger-wraith gave him a malignant smile and drew my mother into his embrace, kissing her like a lover, deep and long. Then he let her go, patting her backside as she departed the room. She never remembered she’d come, never remembered what had happened. Nor did I see her enter or depart, though I never took my eyes from the door. Wizardry.” He snarled the word, spitting. “They told my father that his wife would serve as his example. If he did not do as he was told, his children and people would suffer the same fate. Then they departed, leaving him as I found him.
“The next day my mother began to get sick. A slight fever. It grew swiftly worse. The next morning she was burning up. She couldn’t walk, tripping and falling over nothing when always she had had the grace of a dancer. Her mouth turned white with red blisters. They spread over her face and down her body.”
Edelsat made an agonized sound.
“Then her bones began to break. She broke a finger sewing. She tried to laugh it off as clumsiness, but her teeth began to crumble into powder. Father had her put to bed with nurses to tend her. But even the slightest movement—turning her head—would break something.”
Edelsat’s voice evened out and he spoke like a stone statue come to life. “The stench of her skin rotting on her flesh was like nothing I’ve ever smelled, or ever hope to again.”
“But even so, your father refused them. I saw,” Reisil said softly in the silence.
“Aye. He dared not rescue your sister, but he would not harbor such filth either. When you arrived, he committed himself to your aid, knowing what must happen to my mother, our family. You have never seen a man love a woman as much as he loves her. But whatever you think, he knows his honor.
“You wondered, no doubt, why he met you in the courtyard, not inviting you into the keep,” he said to Kebonsat. “My father fears the illness will spread. For days, only a few trusted servants and he himself have been allowed to see my mother. He sent my sisters and brother up into the mountains to our hunting lodge. I have been living in the barracks. He has made many offerings to Ellini, to no avail. She does not answer.” He turned to Reisil. “He hopes that Amiya might.”
Reisil wiped tears from her face and nodded. “I will do my best to bring healing. I hope it will not be too late.”
“Thank you—it is all the hope I have. But I tell you this”—he turned back to Kebonsat—“so that you will understand what we face in this battle, and why my father acted as he did.”
Kebonsat reached out and grasped the other man’s shoulder. “I have misjudged your father. He could have made no other decision. That he chose to aid us at all is evidence of genuine honor. Let us be about our business so that we may bring relief to your family as soon as may be.”
It was swiftly decided that Kebonsat, Edelsat, Sodur, Juhrnus and eight other men would make a sortie on the inn, while the rest of the company would be split in two, guarding both gates.
“I shall come with you,” Reisil told her companions when they would have left her in the safety of the soldiers. “I will not be gainsaid in this. I am no fighter—I will not try to pretend otherwise. I leave that all to you, and Saljane shall defend me.”
She stroked the goshawk’s head as Saljane let out a strident kek-kek-kek-kek.
“But Ceriba will need me, sooner rather than later. And she may want a woman.” She looked at Kebonsat, who paled. But she could not be gentle for him now, not when she must think of Ceriba’s welfare first. “You know what Upsakes said he had in mind for her. That they stayed in Praterside as long as they have likely means that they have been at her, with no intention of keeping her alive. If so, Ceriba may not have time to wait for me.”
“She is right,” Sodur said in his deep voice
. “Not only that, but if they know we are coming, they will kill her. Our odds of saving your sister improve if Reisiltark is with us. Time will be of the essence.”
“Fine,” Kebonsat snapped, his face gray. “But you stay back and out of the way. I’ll not have you on my conscience.”
They entered the town quietly, like dusty ghosts. At the sight of armed men in tabards of the Houses Vadonis and Exmoor, not to mention the ahalad-kaaslane, with Lume trailing at Sodur’s heels and Esper and Saljane staring with unblinking eyes, the townspeople retreated into the safety of their dwellings.
The inn lay at the center of the town at the crossroads of the two main streets. It was a ramshackle place, with gray, weather-beaten boards and a squeaking sign sporting a picture of a black sheep’s head. Its yard was dusty, though flowers bloomed in pots along the porch skirting around the front. The windows held no glass, and limp muslin curtains stirred in the afternoon breeze. A fountain fed by springwater tumbled from a divided stone pipe, one side running inside to provide water to the kitchen and bath, the other filling a trough.
Without a word, Edelsat led Juhrnus and four of his men around the back, avoiding windows. Kebonsat waited for them to get in place, then led his team through the front, pointing a finger at the pocket doors between the porch and the common room. Sodur nodded and hooked a finger at two soldiers.
Reisil had described each man in careful detail. Three of them were dining in the common room. They were swarmed and knocked unconscious into their trenchers, never having the opportunity to raise an alert. The rest of the patrons eyed the invaders with frightened eyes, pulling belt knives.
“In the name of my father, the Dure Vadonis, and Kaj Mekelsek of House Exmoor, I name these men traitors to Patverseme,” Kebonsat declared in a low voice. “There are three more. Where are they? Innkeeper, answer me now, if you value your life.”
Reisil stood just inside the door, pressed against the jamb as she watched the proceedings with a trembling stomach. None of the three men was Kaval. One was the man with the thick paunch and steel-gray hair; next to him was the smooth-shaven round-faced man with yellow hair. Across from him was the wheelwright from Kallas. Where were the others? Reisil glanced up at the rough wooden ceiling.
“R-r-room at the t-t-top of the stairs, ’nuther at the end of the hall. Paid good money, they did. I didn’t know!” The wizened innkeeper wailed the last, stumbling away from Kebonsat, who had caught his shirt in a hard grip and now thrust him away.
But now came shouts and the sound of running feet. Kebonsat lunged up the stairs with Edelsat and Sodur fast on his heels. On the landing, the green-cloaked man leaped into his way and slashed out with his sword. The air whistled and Kebonsat ducked, falling to his stomach. Edelsat leaped past before the green-cloaked man could recover, smashing him across the back with the flat of his blade. The green-cloaked man grunted and stumbled, completing his turn and coming around to do battle.
Finally Kebonsat dove beneath his opponent’s guard and sliced him across the chest. The man made a high-pitched noise, glancing down at the blood welling through the slit in his jerkin. Edelsat took advantage of his distraction to club him on the temple with the hilt of his sword. The man’s sword clattered to the landing as he twisted and fell onto the stairs, sliding halfway down.
Reisil ran forward up the stairs and stepped over the unconscious man, the healer in her undisturbed by the blood.
Kebonsat put a shoulder to the first of the two rooms the innkeeper had indicated. It was empty but for the furniture, several packs, and a dozen bottles and tankards buzzing with a swarm of black bloat-flies.
Kebonsat took the scene in with a sharp glance, then moved down the hall on cat feet, followed closely by Sodur and Edelsat, and trailed by Reisil.
Juhrnus put a hand on her arm to restrain her when she would have pressed closer. She gave him a sharp look as she wrenched her arm free, recalling his attempt at watchdogging her in the forest outside of Priede. But he fixed her in place with an unexpectedly stern look.
“You’ll only get in the way,” he whispered, and she nodded reluctantly. He was right, but the fact that it came from him grated.
Kebonsat arrived at the last door and pressed his ear to the wood. Suddenly there was a scream—unmistakably feminine—and a crash of pottery. He smashed the door off its hinges and charged inside. Only to stop dead. Edelsat knocked into him and the two men stumbled farther into the room. Sodur slid in behind. A musky animal smell drifted out—smoke, food, sweat and sex. Reisil felt herself snarling.
Though her vision was largely blocked, Reisil could see the scar-faced man standing in the middle of the room holding something in his hand at eye level. He was chanting. Behind him a naked, bloody and badly bruised Ceriba struggled with Kaval. Blood ran from a jagged cut in his forehead, dripping over his eyes and down his chin. He cast a wild-eyed look over his shoulder, then went back to subduing Ceriba. He looked like a minion of the Demonlord, straight from the old tales.
The sound of the scar-faced man’s voice was mesmerizing, like honey and song on a moonlit night, and Reisil found herself smiling, wanting to sleep. She yawned and her knees began to buckle. Something inside resisted, trying to keep her upright. Fear scuttled over her flesh as that isolated part of her brain realized she could not stop. Edelsat and Kebonsat both lowered their swords, bodies sagging toward the floor.
~Do not listen, ahalad-kaaslane! He is a wizard. Hear me! Close your ears to his voice.
Reisil stiffened, shaking her head.
~Ahalad-kaaslane! He uses magic. Do not listen!
The steel in Saljane’s mindvoice cut through the hypnotizing quality of the man’s chanting and now Reisil felt his magic roping over her skin with avid tentacles, spreading up her nose and in her ears, gnawing at her senses. She shuddered and looked desperately at Juhrnus. Esper had broken the spell for him as well. He motioned her back and inched forward, his sword ready. But suddenly Sodur stepped sideways from behind Kebonsat and Edelsat and launched his knife at the wizard. The knife sang past the wizard’s hand and through his left eye.
He crumpled to the floor with an expression of shock, mouth still open.
Edelsat and Kebonsat shook themselves. For a second all was still. Then they flung themselves at Kaval, tearing him off Ceriba. She screamed again, kicking and biting.
Reisil moved forward, ignoring the body on the floor and Kaval’s whimpering cries as Edelsat pinned him by the throat high against the wall. She reached gentle hands out to Ceriba and put her arms around her, holding her tight despite the other woman’s wild paroxysm of animal rage.
“Juhrnus, find me sheets and blankets. Clean ones. Sodur—I want another room, with a bath if possible. And clear out the rest of the inn. No one stays here tonight but us.”
Reisil gave the orders like a military commander, her voice ringing. The others moved quickly to obey. Kebonsat clubbed Kaval over the head with a snarl of satisfaction and Edelsat dragged him out to the landing, tossing him down the stairs to join his companions.
Reisil crooned to the still thrashing Ceriba, enduring the blows the other woman cast at her. Saljane had leaped away as Reisil had taken charge, and now perched on the windowsill. Kebonsat sheathed his sword. His arms dangled at his sides, hands twitching as if to reach out to his sister, but afraid to frighten her.
“There’s a room downstairs by the kitchen. It has a bath. Everyone is outside, including the innkeeper and his family. Here’s a sheet. Juhrnus is getting the room ready.” Sodur stood well back so as not to frighten Ceriba, and in the hallway Edelsat turned away, eyes hot with emotion.
“Easy, Ceriba. You’re safe now. No one else can hurt you. We’re going to take care of you. Remember me? I’m Reisil. We met in Kallas. You’re safe now.” Reisil repeated the litany in a soothing tone, hugging Ceriba to herself. She’d never had to deal with this kind of trauma. Once, a wife raped by her husband—and that had been difficult. But nothing this horrifying, this despicable. Bu
t she had to be strong. Ceriba needed her strength.
The fight drained out of the other woman like water out of a sieve. She went suddenly limp, clinging to Reisil’s neck, crying in great, rasping sobs. Reisil reached for the sheet and Kebonsat helped her drape it around his sister’s bruised shoulders.
“Let’s go downstairs now. Out of this room,” Reisil’s voice roughened with disgust on the last word. “You can have a bath.”
Reisil drew Ceriba into the hallway, talking soothingly all the while.
The room Juhrnus had found was unexpectedly elegant and clearly the inn’s best. It contained a broad riverstone fireplace along the northern wall. Facing it was an ornate four-poster bed carved from pale ash and hung with heavy cream brocade. A bearskin rug lay between the bed and the fire, the thick fur shielding bare feet from the cold slate tiles. The window looked onto a kitchen garden, peach and pear trees shading the room from the worst rays of the sun. Beneath it stood a desk of the same ash as the bed. Near the door, a pedestal table draped in linen and topped with two silver candle-sticks completed the room’s furnishings.
A copper bathtub had been placed before the fire and a heavy kettle hung heating on a tripod in the gaping mouth of the fireplace. An ewer stood beneath a sink beside a spigot at the right of the fireplace, and Reisil remembered the piped springwater running into the inn from the fountain outside.
She eased Ceriba over to the bed. Kebonsat stood against the closed door, staring at his sister’s battered form. Reisil tested the water in the kettle—nearly hot enough. She dumped several ewers of cold water into the tub; then, with Kebonsat’s help, she emptied the steaming kettle into it as well. They refilled the kettle and rehung it in the fire; then Kebonsat retreated back to the door.
Reisil sat beside Ceriba. The girl stiffened and held herself away, turning her shoulder to hide her face. Reisil stroked her shoulders and hair, feeling Ceriba tremble.
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