Alaric laughed. “No such thing. Nobody knows why some Sassaven are born unicorns and the rest aren’t, but we don’t treat each other differently. Though all the people whose other selves are unicorns are as big as I am—that’s really the only thing we have in common, as far as I know.”
The tent flap rustled again. “Ah, what sweet aroma do I scent?” Perrin exclaimed. “And by sweet I of course mean most bitter and arousing to the senses.”
“Just a few more minutes.” Sienne stirred the porridge and let it drip off the spoon. “Isn’t coffee at odds with Averran’s, um, requirements?”
“What requirements are those?”
“The brandy.”
“Ah.” Perrin sat cross-legged beside the fire, near the coffeepot. “Averran encourages humanity to seek wisdom in many ways. For some, it is the blessed haze of alcohol. For others, it is the crisp sharpness of mind that coffee brings. For a few of us, it is both. I have long enjoyed a cup of steaming, undiluted coffee in the morning, but on occasion I partake of coffee liberally laced with alcohol. It is the most stimulating feeling.” He took hold of the coffeepot and filled his mug, then drank it down without heed for how hot it had to be. “In fact, I believe I shall do so now.” He poured a generous amount of brandy from his hip flask into the mug, then topped it off with coffee.
“Don’t drink it all,” Dianthe said, sitting beside him and pouring her own cup. She winced at the bitterness, but they couldn’t bring cream into the wilderness any more easily than eggs. Sienne handed her a chunk of sugar, which she accepted gratefully.
“Not to be impatient, but when will you speak with Averran?” Alaric asked.
“It will yet be some hours. Averran, like all right-thinking individuals, prefers to rise late, and is most testy when he is woken before the shine has worn off the new day. I suggest we begin our travels, and I will make my prayers when we halt for a noon meal.”
Sienne scooped porridge and handed the bowl to Alaric, who made a face but accepted it. She had to control a giggle that bubbled up from within. She was as giddy as a girl with her first crush—well, Rance had been her first romance, and there hadn’t been anyone since then, so it might as well be her first crush. And yet there was something so different about this. Despite the fact that they’d been age-mates and kept pace with each other as they studied, Rance had never treated her with the unspoken respect that said he saw her as an equal. He’d never been interested in listening to what she had to say, always subtly turning the conversation to himself. Even his lovemaking had felt selfish, though at the time she’d blamed herself and her inexperience for how lackluster it had been. It had been barely more than nine months since she’d met Alaric, and already she felt he knew her better than Rance had after nine years’ acquaintance.
They broke camp half an hour later and set out southward. Sienne felt rested and cheerful for the first time in days. She had to stop herself from skipping as she followed Alaric across the grassy plains. They still had a long way to go before the job was finished, and skipping was undignified as well as not yet called for. But the day was warm, finally felt like first summer, and the grass underfoot smelled green and fresh. Birds flew past for the first time since they’d left the ruined keep.
“What’s that song?” Alaric asked, glancing over his shoulder at her.
“What song?”
“The song you keep humming.”
“Oh! I didn’t realize I was humming.”
“It’s pretty,” said Dianthe.
“It’s called ‘The Robin and the Jay.’ It’s just an old folk song. I don’t know the words.” No doubt the birds flitting overhead had brought it to mind. “My nurse used to hum it to me when she put me to bed.”
“You are quite cheerful today,” Perrin said. “Would that we all might be infected by your good cheer.” He sounded, if not annoyed, at least not in a pleasant mood.
“You’re not looking forward to your prayers, are you,” Sienne said.
“Not in the least. I have been a rather importunate priest these last few days, and gaining my Lord Averran’s attention has become difficult.” He took a drink from his flask. “I would that I might find a way to serve, to pass on some of the blessings the avatar has graced me with.”
“You do not serve when you work with us?” Kalanath asked.
“My contribution to our merry band is by way of being an extension of my requests, as they are on our party’s behalf. I believe Averran is dissatisfied with my exclusivity, as it were. And I have not done as much as I should to grow in my own wisdom.”
“You can hardly serve others when we’re the only ones around,” Alaric said. “That seems unreasonable.”
“Avatars have their own reasons, of which mortal reason knows nothing.” Perrin took another drink. “Do not worry. I will work out my relationship with Averran on my own terms, and hope he does not choose to chastise me.”
“What would chastising you look like?” asked Dianthe.
“Oh…a temporary withdrawal of his presence. A refusal to grant blessings. Overt reminders of to whom I owe everything. But I am not so lost to Averran’s mercy as to be in quite so dire a circumstance, so have no fear.”
Sienne thought it sounded dire. She didn’t worship any avatar in particular, but she could imagine what it would be like to have a priest’s relationship with an aspect of God and then have it taken away.
At around noon, they reached a rail fence, the first sign of civilization they’d seen on the return journey. Beyond it, untilled ground lay broken and lumpy from winter’s rest. “We’ll stop here,” Alaric said, unslinging his sword and letting it fall to rest on the soft grass. “Food, and then…”
Despite his earlier words, Perrin ate and drank with no sign of concern. Most of that was probably due to how much alcohol he’d consumed since waking. He was decidedly relaxed, and he laughed louder than any of them at the story Dianthe told of a job three years earlier that ended with Alaric dangling from the crumbling eaves of an ancient fortress. “He tried to claim it was all part of the plan,” she said, chuckling, “but I don’t know that any plan requires you to cover yourself in pigeon crap and leap from a second-story roof.”
“It was too subtle for you,” Alaric said. “I am a subtle thinker.”
“You once held Conn Giorda off a roof by his ankles and told him if he didn’t leave that girl Tressa alone, you’d find out how high he could bounce,” Dianthe said. “You’re not subtle.”
Alaric managed to convey wounded pride with a single shrug. “I am in no way changing the subject,” he said, “but if Perrin is ready, I think we should proceed.”
Perrin nodded. He withdrew a handful of blank rice paper squares from inside his vest and set them on his lap. “If you don’t mind, please withdraw a few paces. I am afraid the sound of your collective breathing might be a distraction.”
They all took several steps toward the rail fence. Perrin closed his eyes and settled into a pattern of rhythmic breathing, his chest moving lightly, his face relaxed. “O good and recalcitrant Lord,” he said, “I come before you with a simple request. We have found an artifact we do not understand, and as you, Lord, see all that passes on earth, I ask merely that you share your wisdom with me in instructing me in its use.”
Perrin went still. His breathing became more labored. “I understand, o Lord, but this artifact is simply a means to an end. We do not intend to keep it, but to make disposition of it as—” A trickle of blood ran from his nostril to his lips. Perrin didn’t lick it away. “Yes, great Lord of crotchets, and were I capable of doing so, I would not trouble you—no, I don’t think—”
Perrin’s face contorted in rage. “I am not a drunk!” he shouted. “You in your infinite wisdom should know my heart, and if you accuse me—” He swayed, and put out both hands to steady himself. “If not me, then who?” he said in a quieter voice. “O Lord of ill humor, my request is simple. Show me what this artifact is meant for, and I will endeavor to put it to pr
oper use, whatever that use may be. And I will take—no, do not refuse me, please, this is most urgent.”
He went silent, but Sienne could see his face, and whatever struggle he waged with his avatar was visible in his countenance. It was a look of mortal agony, and she wished she dared interrupt and spare him the pain he was enduring. Alaric had his enormous hands clenched into fists, and leaned forward, as intent as she was on the conflict. The artifact couldn’t possibly be worth this.
Perrin’s face relaxed, and just as Sienne realized it meant he was unconscious, he slumped to the ground, scattering rice paper squares everywhere. They all lunged forward to support him. “Back up and give him air,” Alaric said, putting a gentle hand under Perrin’s head and easing him to lie straight. Sienne gathered up the rice paper and squared it neatly into a stack.
Perrin’s eyelids fluttered open. “Such concern,” he joked weakly. “I am deeply touched.” He tried to sit and was restrained easily by Alaric. “I think perhaps you are correct, and I should lie here for a moment.”
Sienne glanced at the squares of paper. “Um,” she said, “none of these are marked.”
“I chose not to ask for blessings, given that my request was an extraordinary one.” Perrin held out a hand for the papers. “And Averran was rather more irritable than usual. I am unsurprised that he did not grant me blessings of his own volition.”
“Did he tell you what the artifact does?” Dianthe asked.
Perrin nodded, winced, and lay still again. “In general terms. The thing is a weapon of great power, and if I understand correctly, it is not a weapon against which there is a conventional defense.”
They all looked at the canvas-wrapped bundle on the nameless donkey’s back. Sienne could guess what they were all afraid to ask: had Averran revealed how to use the weapon? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know, except for fear of setting it off accidentally.
“All right, I’ll ask,” Alaric said. “How does it work?”
“That, he would not tell me.” Perrin stirred and sat up, then hugged his knees and pressed his face against them. “And I am not certain I want to know, save that it would tell us just how powerful the weapon is, and how afraid of it we should be.”
“There’s no point being afraid of weapons,” Alaric said. “It’s the wielders of weapons you have to fear. But a weapon we can’t use might as well not be a weapon at all.”
“It’s an awkward weapon, too,” Dianthe said. “Big and bulky. It can’t be for close fighting, because swinging it like a sword would never work. Maybe it emits a poison gas? No, that would kill whoever triggered it. I don’t know. Random guessing won’t help.”
“We’ll get it back to Fioretti, talk to Tonia, and proceed from there,” Alaric said. He extended a hand to Perrin to help him rise. “The thing doesn’t even have to leave its wrapping.”
Sienne fell into place behind Alaric. To her left, the nameless donkey walked with the same dispirited, weary tread it always had no matter how well rested it was. She eyed the wrapped bundle. Alaric might be right that weapons weren’t to be feared, but Sienne couldn’t help thinking a weapon that didn’t look like a weapon, a weapon of great destructive power with no obvious means of use, was something any reasonable person might be afraid of.
14
The skies continued clear and sunny, but Sienne felt as weary as if they threatened rain instead. Her awareness of the emerald falcon not five feet from where she walked pressed down on her, an emotional weight that made her want to fling off its wrappings and smash it to radiant shards. Which was impossible, because artifacts that radiated magic as this one did were indestructible, or at least impervious to any spell or physical force Sienne was aware of. Perrin’s words—no conventional defense—frightened her, because that implied power like nothing she’d ever heard of. And it was riding along on the nameless donkey, wrapped in a stained canvas.
They passed more farmsteadings, grouped more closely together, and this time nearly every field was occupied with people and plows turning up the good dark earth, readying it for planting. Sienne waved half-heartedly at the farmers and their cheery salutes. How eager would they be to wave at them if they knew what the companions carried?
Sienne blinked. That was too much. This wasn’t some kind of death sentence. They had a powerful artifact, yes, and it was a dangerous one, but it wasn’t as if it would suddenly spring to life and begin attacking people, Kalanath’s dream notwithstanding. She stood up straighter and told herself to stop being an idiot. They’d figure this out, just like they always did.
By sunset, they’d reached Uless and the inn where they’d left their horses. Genuinely weary now, Sienne leaned on the fence of the stable yard and watched men and women pass through the gate. Some led horses and clearly wanted a place to stay for the night. Others held hands with the look of sweethearts out for an evening’s entertainment. The inn’s bustling yard smelled heavily of anxious horses and told Sienne they might have trouble finding rooms for the night.
“Alaric’s been gone a while,” Dianthe said. “That means nothing good.”
“It means we will sleep elsewhere, I think,” Kalanath said.
A young girl ran toward them and skidded to a halt before the donkeys. “Take your animals, miss?”
“Not yet,” Dianthe said.
The girl sized them all up. Her eyes lingered longest on Sienne, examining her. Sienne thought about making a face and decided she wasn’t juvenile. “No loitering,” the girl said, and ran off through the gate and down the road.
“No loitering,” Dianthe scoffed. “As if we weren’t paying good money to stable our horses here.”
“Here he comes,” Perrin said. “He looks displeased.”
Alaric’s frown was visible from yards away. “One room,” he said when he was near enough not to shout. “One room with three beds. That’s all they can do for us.”
“Why is it so crowded?” Sienne asked.
“Hiring fair. People come from all over to get work on the farmsteadings for first summer.” Alaric scratched his scalp, disordering his short blond hair. “All the inns in town are full. And by ‘all’ I mean the two of them. It’s not a large town.”
“We could see if there’s a farmer willing to let us camp in his field,” Dianthe said.
“I asked about that. Apparently the fields are full of migrants too. I think, all things considered, we’re better off in a room we can secure against thieves.”
“It is true,” Kalanath said. “You took this room with three beds? I will sleep on the floor.”
“They’re big beds. We can double up.” Alaric took Button’s lead rope and led him into the yard. Dianthe followed with the nameless donkey, which had perked up when it smelled home.
“You again,” the stable master said. He was a portly fellow a little shorter than Perrin, with black hair covering his arms and face. “Any luck?”
“Some,” Alaric said. “Can we rent space for our gear for the night?”
“Sure. Most of these folks for the hiring fair came in on shank’s mare, so the stable’s not as full as the inn. Don’t suppose you want to bed down with the horses?” The man laughed, a sound that came from deep within his belly.
Alaric laughed with him. “We’ve been in the wilderness four days. I’m done with sleeping on the ground, however well-padded with straw it is.”
“Fair enough. There’s an empty stall at the end. Have no fear, we set watches all night.”
“My thanks.” Alaric led Button to the indicated stall. Sienne helped him unload while Perrin and Dianthe did the same for their hired donkey. Kalanath stood alert and watchful with his staff at the ready. “You expecting trouble?” Alaric said.
“I think it is that we should be cautious, even here,” Kalanath said. “I do not like this thing and I will be happier when it is gone.” His voice was flat and hard again. Sienne remembered what he’d said about his dream of the falcon destroying people. She had no reason to believe he was prone
to prophetic dreams, but it had certainly upset him. She felt prone to a little paranoia herself.
She turned to find Dianthe handing her a bundle wrapped in canvas. She nearly dropped it. “What—?”
“We can’t leave it out here, no matter how good their watchmen are,” Dianthe said in a low voice. “And the rest of us need our hands free in case we’re attacked. So you’re the lucky guardian.”
Sienne scowled and tucked the thing securely under one arm. “Is this also because I’m a wizard, and we have a special affinity for artifacts? Because I can tell you right now that’s not true.”
“We may not know how to work the thing,” Alaric said in the same low voice, “but as a wizard, capable of seeing its magic, you have a marginally better chance of figuring it out than the rest of us. But mainly it’s because you only need one hand to hold your spellbook. So stop griping.” He smiled to show it was a joke and shouldered both her bag and his own. Sienne sighed and followed him to the inn’s door. She was conscious now, as she usually wasn’t, of her friends grouped close around her, guarding her. It made her more nervous than if she’d been walking alone.
The inn’s taproom was muggy with heat and the smell of warm beer and warmer bodies, all packed together and shouting for the attention of the overworked serving women. Alaric broke a path through the crowd, waving away the young woman who swam toward them against the current of drinkers. Sienne hated these inns where the only way to the rooms was through the taproom. It was cynical of her, but she couldn’t help feeling the design was intended to get people buying as many overpriced drinks as possible.
The hall beyond the taproom was cooler and dimmer, lit by a couple of magic lights in frosted invulnerable glass bulbs. At the end of the short hall, stairs rose into darkness, smelling sharply of fresh varnish. The inn had only two floors—no wonder all its rooms were let—and their room was at the far end of the hall. By the sound of it, it was over the taproom. Noise leaked through the floorboards like water through a sieve, not loud enough for conversations to be intelligible but loud enough to be annoying. “We’re not going to get any sleep tonight, are we?” Dianthe said.
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