by DAVID B. COE
"When did you lie to her?" he asked, keeping his voice even, gentle. She shook her head slowly, her gaze drifting to the side.
"Is this Sentaya, Lici?"
The woman looked at him again, her eyes narrowing. "I know you," she said. "Who are you?"
He licked his lips. "I'm Besh. You know me from Kirayde."
"You're not one of them," she said after several moments, raising her voice once more. "You're one of us. Did you see him? The other one? The one who took the baskets?" She rushed forward suddenly and grabbed Besh's shirt with her blade hand, nearly cutting his face with her knife as she did, though it seemed to the old man that she wasn't even aware of the weapon in her hand. "You have to stop him! He's taking them to the Fal'Borna! They'll all die!"
"Wh-what baskets?" he asked, trying as best he could to keep from breaking free and running from her.
She smiled, a sly look creeping over her face. "I found a way," she whispered, her foul breath hot on his face. "They wanted me dead. They wanted us all dead, but I found a way."
"What way? What do you mean?"
She leaned closer to him, so that her mouth was just at his ear, as if they were lovers. "Baskets," she whispered. She pulled back to look at him, and nodded.
Besh shook his head. "I don't understand. What baskets? Who are you talking about?"
She opened her hand, revealing a dark clump of clotted dirt. For a moment she stared at it. Then she looked at Besh again, smiling. "Magic," she whispered. "Blood to earth, life to power, power to thought-"
Without thinking, he grabbed her wrist and gave her hand a violent shake, so that the dirt fell to the ground.
She glared at him and yanked her hand away.
"I know you!" she said again. "You're that dark-eyed boy who used to stare at me." She spun away and started running from him. "You don't know that they'll all die!" she shouted as she ran. "You don't know it! Maybe he'll just take them back to Tordjanne! Maybe they won't ever see them at all, and then it'll be all right!"
Besh ran after her, his mind racing. I found a way. Baskets. Magic. Was that how she had killed so many Y'Qatt? Had she placed a spell on the baskets she wove? Was she, in effect, poisoning them?
He was so intent on the questions swirling in his mind that he barely noticed when Lici dropped to the ground in front of him and began to claw at the earth with her hands. An instant later, though, he saw her knife flash across the back of her hand and he halted. He still clutched the bloodied earth in one hand and his knife in the other, and he began to whisper a spell, readying himself, unsure of what she intended to do. She glared back at him, and he realized that she was speaking, too.
"Blood to earth, life to power, power to thought, earth to blades!" With these last shouted words, she threw her handful of mud at him. And before his eyes, the clod of dirt flew apart, becoming a swarm of tiny steel knives.
Besh had spoken most of his spell, and now, with hardly a thought, he did the only thing he could. "Power to thought, earth to stone!" He made a sharp motion with his hand, releasing the dirt as he did, so that it spread before him in a dark wheel.
Lici's tiny blades struck, but by then Besh's wheel had turned to stone. With a sound like the chiming of a hundred small bells, the knives bounced away harmlessly. Most of them, at least. Three got through his shield; two buried themselves in Besh's shoulder, the third hit him just below the chest.
The old woman spat a curse and grabbed for more dirt. Besh stooped and did the same, ignoring the agony in his shoulder. Instead of cutting his hand again, he pulled one of the small knives from his flesh and wiped the blood on the soil in his hand.
"Blood to earth, life to power, power to thought," they said together, eyeing one another.
Both of them hesitated. He wanted to stop her, to keep her right where she was so that he could question her further. She wanted him dead. He couldn't attempt any spell without leaving himself open to her attack. She seemed to sense this, because a moment later she was grinning like some ghoul in the gathering gloom.
"Earth to fire!" she shouted suddenly, hurling the dirt at him.
Bright, angry flames burst from her hand, as if she were the goddess Eilidh herself. Besh froze, held fast by his terror, knowing he had no answer for this magic. At the last moment, he threw himself down and to the side. Much of Lici's fire passed over him, but not all. Seeing that his sleeve and trouser leg were ablaze, he batted at the flames, desperately trying to extinguish them, knowing that she might well be readying herself to cast yet another spell.
When at last the flames were out, he climbed warily to his feet. Lici was watching him still, her eyes bright and wide. Her fist was clenched again and fresh blood flowed from the back of her hand.
Realizing that he still held his own dirt, and that he was still in mid- spell, Besh wasted no time.
"Earth to swarm!" he cried out, throwing the dirt.
Immediately, Lici was beset by a host of yellow and black hornets. Just as he had hoped, she swatted at them, the dirt and her knife falling to the ground. She screamed and grabbed her blade again before scrambling to her feet and fleeing. Besh started after her, ducking past the hornets as he did.
As she ran, Lici tried to bend and scoop up some dirt, but she stumbled, righted herself, and ran on without managing to get any.
Besh didn't bother with more magic and so closed the distance between them. At last, he caught up with her and grabbed her arm.
She spun toward him, the knife flashing by his face, just narrowly missing his eye. Suddenly his cheek was burning with pain and he could feel blood flowing down over his jaw and neck.
Seeing what she had done, Lici stopped struggling to break free of his grip. She just gaped at him, her eyes wide again.
"You were speaking of the Y'Qatt, weren't you?" Besh demanded, breathing hard. "Before. When you spoke of the baskets, of finding a way. That's who you meant. The Y'Qatt."
She nodded.
He didn't attempt to stanch the flow of blood. Lici seemed transfixed by what she had done, and Besh wanted her to remain so.
"You put a spell on your baskets, one that would make them sick. Is that right?"
"I can't talk about this," she said, her eyes still riveted on the wound she had dealt him.
"Yes, you can. I know what they did to you. I've been… Sylpa told me."
Again she shifted her gaze, meeting his. "You've spoken to Sylpa?"
"She told me what happened. How the Y'Qatt wouldn't help you. How they even threatened to kill you if you wouldn't leave their village. That's why you did it, isn't it?"
Her expression hardened. "She said she wouldn't tell anyone! She promised!"
"She was concerned for you. She sent me to find you."
"She had no-" Lici looked past him, her eyes narrowing again, her grip on the knife tightening. "Who's that?"
Besh glanced back and saw Sirj a short distance off, watching them, his blade drawn as well.
"He's a friend." He faced her again. "Just as I am. Believe it or not, Lici, I am your friend. I want to help you. But you have to stop killing them."
Abruptly, she was crying, tears streaming down her face, her wails echoing through the wood.
"I didn't want this!" she screamed. "He said he was going to the Y'Qatt, but he lied to me! He lied! He lied! He lied! He lied! He lied! He lied!"
"Who lied to you, Lici?"
"He's taking them to the Fal'Borna!"
And suddenly, finally, Besh understood. He grabbed both of her shoulders. She didn't fight him this time. Not at all.
"Do you mean to tell me that there's a peddler out there who's taking your baskets into Qirsi land?"
The word came out as soft as a dying breath. "Yes."
"Blood and bone."
"What is it?" Sirj asked, walking toward them.
Lici dropped to the ground, sobbing still, muttering once more. "She's been spreading the pestilence with her baskets. She puts a spell on them, and then probably sells them
in the marketplace or trades them with merchants. That's how she's killing the Y'Qatt."
Sirj stared down at the woman, disgust and fear chasing one another across his face. "She's a demon," he whispered.
"It's worse than that. She says that now a peddler is taking her baskets into Fal'Borna land."
"Gods save us all! How many?"
"A good question." Besh squatted down beside the woman. "Lici, how many baskets does he have?"
She didn't answer. Besh wasn't even certain that she had heard him.
"Lici?" he said again. But then he shook his head and stood once more. "I'm not even certain it matters," he said quietly. "One is too many. Ten could kill thousands."
"So we have to find him."
Besh looked at him and nodded. "I agree."
"And what about her?"
What about her, indeed. Besh had told Pyav that he could kill her if that was the only way to stop her. But now, seeing her for what she was- crazed and pathetic-he no longer believed that he could bring himself to go so far. "I don't know."
Sirj eyed the cut on Besh's face. "She did that to you?"
"Yes."
The younger man nodded toward the tiny blades jutting from his shoulder and body. "And those?"
"You think I put them there myself?" Besh demanded.
Sirj ignored him. "Those wounds need to be cleaned and healed." "I'm not good at healing magic."
"I am."
Besh hesitated.
"You can't travel far with those wounds," Sirj said, his voice gentle, as if he were speaking to a child.
At last the old man nodded. They moved off a short distance and Besh sat on the ground, all the while keeping watch on Lici. Sirj turned his attention first to the witch's conjured blades. The one that remained in Besh's shoulder came free easily, but the other had struck between two ribs. As Sirj pulled it out Besh winced, inhaling sharply through his teeth.
"I'm sorry."
The old man just shook his head. He pulled his shirt off, and allowed Sirj to work his magic. Besh continued to watch the old woman, but she didn't move, or even look at them. It seemed she had spent all her power and passion in their brief battle. Besh knew just how she felt.
I'm too old for this, he told himself once again.
Very smart to think of this now, when you're leagues from your home. He could hear Ema's voice, see the look of amused disdain on her face. He let out a small laugh.
Sirj frowned. "What could possibly be funny?"
"It doesn't matter."
The young man shrugged, and a moment later he sat back on his heels. "There. I can do more later, once we've made camp for the night. But that should hold you for now."
Besh moved his shoulder, then dabbed at his cheek. "That's better. Thank you."
Sirj nodded, a small smile on his lean face. He stood and helped Besh to his feet. Besh pulled his shirt back on, but beyond that neither man moved. They just stood there, looking over at Lici.
"We're taking her with us, aren't we?" Sirj finally asked.
"I don't see another way," Besh said, his voice tight.
But Sirj just nodded again and Besh realized that the younger man hadn't meant the question as a rebuke.
"What's to keep her from slipping away while we sleep, or taking that blade to our throats?"
"We'll sleep in shifts," Besh said. "And we'll have her cart with us. She won't leave that behind."
"The Fal'Borna don't care much for our kind."
Besh nodded, knowing that this was true, knowing as well that there wasn't much they could do about it. It was quite likely that the merchant who had her baskets had no idea what his wares would do to the Qirsi who might buy them. What choice did Besh and Sirj have but to go after him?
"Nobody cares for the Mettai," Besh said, eyeing the old woman, noting the dark smear of blood on the back of her hand. "But we have to do this anyway."
Blood to earth, life to power. More than words. More, even, than a
source of magic. Who are we, Grandfather? Remembering the question from so long ago, Besh knew at last what he should have told the boy. We are the land, he should have said. We are its blood. Our power flows from the earth, and it, in turn, gives strength back to this land in which we live. The Mettai had been shunned for centuries, hated by dark-eye and white- hair alike. And finally Besh understood this as well. The Mettai were a bridge between the two races. Once, had the Mettai of old seen themselves in this way, and had they understood just how much evil would come of the Blood Wars, they might have found some way to forge a lasting peace, one that would have saved countless lives. Instead, for century upon century, the Mettai had served to remind Qirsi and Eandi alike of all that they hated about each other, and, perhaps worse, of all that they had in common. The Eandi looked at the Mettai, and they saw how close they were to being like their enemy. The same was true for the Qirsi. How could Besh's people not be despised?
And yet now, once again, they had an opportunity to save lives, quite possibly thousands of lives.
"We have to do this," Besh said again. Trying to convince himself, as well as Sirj.
"All right," the younger man said. "Let's be on our way, then." He looked around the forest, which was growing darker by the moment. "I don't think we want to be near this village when night falls."
They walked cautiously to where Lici still sat on the ground. She was no longer crying, but she had begun once more to speak to herself, rocking slowly, her voice low. Stopping before her, each of them offered the woman a hand.
She stopped her mumbling, looking up first at Sirj and then at Besh. "I know you both."
"Yes," Besh said, taking her hand in his. "We're Mettai, just as you are."
Characters
Kirayde (a Mettai village in the northern reaches of Stelpana)
BESH, an old Mettai man, a member of the village's Council of Elders EMA, Besh's wife
ELICA, his daughter
SIRJ, Elica's husband
MIHAS, Sirj and Elica's elder son
ANNZE, Sirj and Elica's daughter
CAM, Sirj and Elica's younger son
PYAV, a blacksmith, head of the Council of Elders, addressed as "eldest" LICALDI, also Lici, an old Mettai woman
SYLPA, Lici's foster mother
OJAN, the village miller
KORR, Ojan's father, a member of the Council of Elders
MARIVASSE, the village herbmistress, a member of the Council of Elders TASHYA, a member of the Council of Elders
Lowna (a Fal'Borna village on the CompanionLakes)
JYNNA, an Y'Qatt girl, orphaned in her home village of Tivston S'DORYN, a Qirsi man
N'TEVVA, S'Doryn's wife
T'NoTH, a Qirsi man, friend of S'Doryn and N'Tevva
T'KAAR, a Qirsi man, brother of T'Noth
A'VINYA, T'Kaar's wife
U'SELLE, a'laq (leader) of the village
ETAN, a young Y'Qatt boy, orphaned in his home village of Tivston VETTALA, a young Y'Qatt girl, orphaned in her home village of Tivston HEY, an Y'Qatt boy, orphaned in his home village of Tivston
PELDA, an Y'Qatt girl, orphaned in her home village of Tivston
SEBBI, Pelda's younger sister, orphaned in her home village of Tivston
The Merchants
R'SHEV, a Qirsi merchant on the plains of Stelpana
D'CHUL, a Qirsi lutenist and merchant on the plains of Stelpana TORGAN PLYE, an Eandi merchant from Tordjanne
Y'FARL, an Y'Qatt merchant in C'Bijor's Neck
JASHA ZIFFEL, an Eandi merchant
BRINT HEDFARREN, an Eandi merchant from Tordjanne
On the Plains of the Fal'Borna
GRINSA JAL ARRIET, a Qirsi man, originally from the Forelands CRESENNE JA TERBA, Grinsa's wife, originally from the Forelands BRYNTELLE JA GRINSA, Grinsa and Cresenne's daughter
S'PLAED, a'laq of a Fal'Borna sept in the northern plain E'MENUA, a'laq of a Fal'Borna sept in the central plain D'PERA, E'Menua's wife
U'VARA, E'Menua and D'
Pera's eldest daughter Q'DAER, a Weaver in E'Menua's sept
L'NoRR, a Weaver in E'Menua's sept
F'SOLVA, a Fal'Borna woman
I'JOLED, F'Solya's husband H'SHEM, a Fal'Borna warrior
Sentaya (once a Mettai village along the Silverwater Wash)
KYTHA, younger sister of Licaldi
BAETRI, also Baet, youngest sister of Licaldi SosLi, a young girl, a friend of Licaldi
FB2 document info
Document ID: fbd-9614dd-654f-7e4f-688a-94a0-905a-b8c952
Document version: 1.1
Document creation date: 06.05.2010
Created using: Fiction Book Designer, FB Editor v2.3 software
Document authors :
boo
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