There was a road that led from Mollnde to Leserlang, but Keshik had had enough of people and drove his horse away from the road into the scrubby bush as soon as he could. Once off the road, they struck out north-west, in a straight line for Leserlang.
Their haste did not abate until late, well after sundown, when the horses were blowing hard and lathered in sweat. Keshik reined in beside a low rocky outcrop and slid off his saddle. No words were needed as he and Maida fell into each other’s arms with a hunger born of release and too long sharing the company of others.
Later, when passion was spent and need sated, they lay beside each other staring up at the moons. Grada was high, while Yatil was low.
‘Do you remember the first time?’ Maida asked sleepily.
Keshik laughed, a low throaty chuckle. ‘Oh, yes I remember.’
Maida playfully hit his shoulder. ‘I don’t mean that,’ she protested. ‘I mean what you said that night. Do you still mean it?’
‘Always and everywhere,’ Keshik assured her.
‘Why?’
Keshik sighed, perhaps a little more theatrically than he needed to. Always the same question, always the same answer. He had lost count of the times she had insisted he tell her of his feelings for her.
‘I know,’ Maida said. ‘But I need to hear you say it sometimes.’
‘Sometimes?’
Maida gave a resigned sigh of acceptance. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘More than sometimes. But now, I really need to hear you tell me, in words.’
Keshik wrapped her in his arms, kissed her and started to expound, in intimate detail, the source of his passion for her. By the time he had finished, she was curled up beside him, smiling gently as she drifted into a comfortable sleep. When she was fast asleep, snoring softly, he carefully extracted himself from her embrace and went to stand on the top of the rocky outcrop.
In the light of the sinking Grada, he went through a ritual from his training designed to clear and focus the mind in preparation for a difficult task. It was one he found useful after lovemaking with Maida. She confused his mind and tangled his emotions. For a Tulugma Swordmaster, trained for thirty Crossings, focus and mental clarity were everything. To enter battle with diffuse thoughts and unclear goals was to invite death. In the ten Crossings since they had met, since he rode over a hill to happen upon the Tusemon bandits intent on rape and murder, he had rediscovered a reason to stay alive.
Maida might be the cause of his lost focus, but she was also why he needed it the most. Were he to die in battle, she would be next.
When he finished his exercises, he looked up at Grada. She was nearly Kissing Yatil, the sign of the next Crossing, where she passed in front of her sister.
Each new Crossing was greeted throughout the world with celebration and hope. Keshik wondered what this next Crossing would bring. He was troubled by what he had seen in Vogel and by what he feared he had released with his own hand and given to Sondelle. The Seeing of the Mertian oracle with its customary obfuscations and misleading allusions had not helped, obscuring more than it revealed — and what it did reveal was troubling enough.
Keshik shook his head, trying to clear it of unwanted speculations. He had sought the Seeing out of curiosity, nothing more. But now that he had seen the scarred man and held a sorcerous blade, he wondered. What else among the gibbering nonsense might hold truth?
The Dark rises twice. Twice? Were there two Darks? Was that thing that had erupted from the street Dark? What about the other thing he had delivered into Sondelle’s hand? The more he thought about that, the more it troubled him. What had he done?
He looked up at Grada again. What will you bring with you this time, Little Sister?
She gently lit the surrounding countryside. C’sobran soil was poor compared with the impossibly rich black Lac’un earth, and bore little tilling. C’sobrans as a consequence were city dwellers exclusively, leaving most of their country open wilderness. Keshik disliked C’sobra. It was too hot and there were too many trees. Open, cold tundra where a man could see his enemies coming, that was his home. How long until I see home again? A fey chill touched him. A long time.
Too long.
Maida awoke with the dawn. She stretched luxuriously and reached out for Keshik. He returned her embrace.
‘How far is it to Leserlang?’ she asked.
‘A few days, if we push hard.’
‘Do we need to push hard?’
‘That thing in Vogel will move fast, I think.’
Maida shuddered. ‘I don’t want to think about that.’
‘We should get moving.’ Keshik rose and started to dress. Maida followed suit. She looks better in leathers and boots than in the silly outfit she took from Tatya, Keshik thought as he watched her dress. Although, he had to admit, those clothes did show off her beautiful body well. If he were the only one to appreciate it, he would be happy, but he had seen the merchant’s eyes resting on her exposed skin at the market. It was only his trained discipline that had left the letch’s head on his shoulders.
No matter that she used her feminine charms skilfully and rarely. No matter that she often achieved with a glimpse of skin things that he could only have achieved by shedding blood. No matter that she gave herself only to him, he knew what thoughts lay behind lecherous eyes and seeing men leer at her made him seethe with rage.
‘I think we should delay a little,’ he said.
‘Oh? Why?’
Because you are so beautiful that I want to spend the rest of my life right here, watching you and loving you and never moving from this place. Why travel anywhere when I have everything a man could ever want?
‘I want to make a new gyrn.’
‘I thought you might.’ Maida looked around at the sparse trees and rocky ground. ‘I will go and set some traps.’
They stayed three days by the outcrop while Keshik worked on the skins and made a new gyrn. It was larger than their old one and the wood he used was lighter, but seemed to have more spring. It looked like a fine gyrn.
‘We should spend one last night here, to see how it fares,’ Keshik announced when he was finally satisfied.
Maida had to agree. The country might be hot and dry, but the game was surprisingly plentiful and her traps were full every day. She had preserved quite a bit of food and another day would give her the chance to finish off some more. And besides, Keshik seemed as content as she was to be back in the wilderness again, away from cities and the stench of people. She breathed deeply and looked around at the trees, the blue sky, the low bush. If only it wasn’t so hot.
44
At some stage Slave and Myrrhini crossed the border into C’sobra. According to the map, Venste squatted like a toad on the plain just beyond the edge of the tundra, where the ground had melted into mud.
The cold wind that had been their constant companion for so long had faded to a breeze that did little more than ruffle Myrrhini’s hair as they neared the ugly place. The city gate was a big black slab of wood, studded with iron, guarded by surly, uniformed men who stared with unfriendly eyes at them as they approached. They were armed with pikes and wearing heavy metal armour.
A pike was lowered in front of them, blocking their way.
‘Whaddya want in Venste?’ the guard demanded.
‘We want to get in.’
‘Why?’
‘We want food, shelter and new clothes.’
The guard glared at Slave, then Myrrhini. ‘Don’t want to be a soldier for the Queen any more?’
Myrrhini shook her head.
‘Get hunged for desertion, ya know.’
‘Get gutted for asking the wrong questions,’ Slave muttered.
The guard snarled and lifted his pike. ‘No need to be unfriendly. Get new clothes at the market. If ya’s deserting, get ’em quick. The Queen’s been sending people through for a while. Ya’s get recognised easy in them uniforms.’
‘Thanks,’ Slave said.
The guard touched his forehead as
they passed in to Venste.
‘Do you think he knew we stole the uniforms?’ Myrrhini whispered.
‘I think that’s why he let us in,’ Slave answered.
Myrrhini did not understand but said nothing.
The market was easy to find. Myrrhini had never seen so many people or heard such a din and from his reaction, neither had Slave. He took her arm and dragged her in close.
‘We need to get rid of these uniforms.’ He gestured ahead where three men in the same uniforms were standing beside a stall, haggling half-heartedly.
Myrrhini was about to answer when her other arm was grabbed. She looked about in shock to see a man in uniform staring at her.
‘You’re not Fynrak,’ he stated.
Myrrhini just stared blankly up at the big man looming over her. He was powerfully built with a tattoo of a crown high on his left cheek.
He shook her slightly. ‘Who are you, and why are you wearing that uniform?’
‘I, um …’ she stammered.
‘She killed the wearer and stole it, you idiot. What do you think happened?’ Slave snapped. ‘Now let her go, unless you want to share his fate.’
The soldier scowled, apparently unsure how to react. ‘And who are you?’
Slave sighed. He started to move, as if becoming bored with the conversation, before swinging his arm across Myrrhini faster than she imagined possible, slamming the edge of his hand into the soldier’s throat. With a startled gurgle, the big man collapsed to the ground.
‘Run,’ Slave said. Still gripping Myrrhini’s arm, he took off. She was dragged along with him, through the crowd that parted as if by magic to let them pass, re-forming behind them and effectively blocking pursuit. Slave and Myrrhini ran through the market, past the stinking slave pens into the city beyond. At the intersection of four alleys, a net was suddenly pulled up in front of them. They had no chance to stop or even slow. The net was released from the top and fell, trapping them. In moments, men had swarmed out of the surrounding buildings, dragging the net away with them inside. They were hauled across the road and into a building.
‘Stay silent and live!’ a voice hissed at them.
Myrrhini heard a door close and the room went dark. From outside the door, she could hear the sounds of pursuit — shouts, running feet — followed by a brief clash of weapons then silence.
A low chuckle sounded close to Myrrhini. ‘The boys done for them. Fancy types tink they come here and make us cower. Ha!’ He spat on the floor. ‘Now, let’s see what they was chasin’.’
Light flared as a lantern was lit. It was brought close enough to Myrrhini to make her wince and try to pull away.
‘Wells, lookie what we got here. A pretty dressed like a Queen’s own.’ The lantern moved to allow the man to examine Slave. ‘My, my, what are you then, visitor? All scarred and dangerous looking. Not seen nothing like you in a while.’
Slave did not speak, he just glowered.
Their captor stood up and stepped back. He gestured at someone to his right. ‘Let them up.’
The net was quickly pulled away from them and they stood to face the men. For a moment, no one spoke, then Myrrhini drew in a breath.
‘Who are you? What do you want?’ she demanded.
‘Oh, it speaks, does it?’ The man was smaller than his voice might have suggested. He was compact and muscular, wearing a fur-lined jerkin and leather trousers. His unbound hair was long and black and he wore a full beard. At his hip he wore a heavy sword. ‘I am Manred, and what I want, pretty lady, is some information.’
‘We have none you want,’ Slave said in a low, threatening tone.
‘I’ll decide that, my ugly visitor.’
‘I doubt you are capable.’
The man threw back his head and laughed. ‘I want to know where you got the uniforms from. That’s all.’
‘We killed the six men wearing them and took them.’
‘Six? Just like that?’
‘Yar.’
‘You not Lac’un,’ another voice snarled from the darkness beyond the light of the lantern.
‘No, he in’t, but nor’s she.’
‘She’s Acolyte,’ another voice said.
‘I’m thinking that too. She’d be fleeing like the rest.’
‘Not worth much then.’
‘Worth plenty, even if she’s Acolyte.’
‘Can’t tell with them clothes on.’
‘Get ’em off ’er.’
The leader held up his hand to forestall further comments. ‘Settle, boys,’ he said. He scratched his chin. ‘Got a point, but.’ He tilted his head to the side slightly. ‘Get ’em off, pretty,’ he instructed. ‘Let’s see what we do with you.’
‘No,’ she said. Myrrhini stepped back, shaking her head, but her retreat was blocked by another man who shoved her forwards.
‘You heard the boss,’ he said. ‘Get ’em off.’
Myrrhini stumbled at his push. Before she could regain her balance, a flash of silver at her side caught her attention. Slave whipped out his Claw and slashed across the chest of the nearest man. He cried out and slumped to his knees, clutching at his wounded chest.
‘I don’t want to kill anyone,’ Slave said. ‘So let us go.’
‘You don’t wanna go outside, ugly visitor,’ Manred told them. ‘Not wearing those uniforms, in a city with so many of the Queen’s own swaggering about. You’ll last to the end of the street. No, tell us what we want to know and then we’ll talk about putting you out of the city.’
‘We were west of here, and six of those soldiers attacked us,’ Slave said. ‘We killed them and took what we needed.’
‘We?’ Manred asked.
Myrrhini stooped quickly and pulled the dagger out of her boot. ‘We,’ she assured him.
Manred looked at the dagger, then raised his gaze to meet Myrrhini’s.
‘Maybe you can keep your clothes on, for now,’ he said. ‘Or at least until we can get you something that won’t get you killed.’
The man Slave had wounded was gasping in pain. Manred flicked him a glance. ‘Deal with that,’ he instructed another man.
When the injured man had left, Manred seemed to relax. ‘I tink we can help each other here. But first, those uniforms.’
‘Whose are the soldiers?’ Slave asked.
‘The Blindfolded Queen’s,’ Manred answered.
‘Who is that?’ Myrrhini asked.
Manred shrugged. ‘She’s the Blindfolded Queen. She’s… she is who she is.’
‘Where is the Queen?’
‘South, east of the Umut.’
Myrrhini tried to look like she knew what Manred meant, but her map studying had not extended as far as anything called the Umut.
‘What are they doing here?’
‘Dunno.’
‘How long have they been here?’
‘Started coming in twenty, thirty days ago, something like that.’
‘And you have never asked any of them what they’re doing here?’
‘Asked plenty. But a question asked is not always a question answered.’
‘True,’ agreed Slave.
‘Why are you here?’
They were sitting in a small, dark room, just the three of them. Slave and Myrrhini had exchanged their uniforms for warm and comfortable ordinary clothes. Myrrhini raised her cup to her lips and sipped the steaming hot drink. It was the first hot drink she had had since fleeing the Place and it was good, but it did not help her answer Manred’s question.
Slave toyed with his cup before answering.
‘I want to go to Leserlang,’ he said finally.
‘Why?’
‘Something happened in Vogel and I want to know more.’
‘I have heard about Vogel,’ Manred said. ‘They say it’s in flames again, but this time it’s serious. They say it’s gone, finished as a city this time, just like the Rilamo thing.’
‘What Rilamo thing?’ Myrrhini asked.
‘The Rilaman knights se
t it to torch, Crossings ago. The story is they knew about the Revenant, but didn’t know where it was. So they just torched the place and went away. Didn’t help, of course, but what do you expect from Rilamans?’
‘Revenant?’
Manred gave an expansive gesture that seemed to indicate uncaring ignorance. ‘Lac’uns. Who understands Lac’uns? They’re all crazy, full of sayings and myths. We C’sobrans prefer facts to stories.’ He drained his cup and slammed it back down onto the table. ‘If it’s facts you want, it’s Leserlang you need, that’s for true. And the best one to know about Vogel is Fraunhof. That’s the one — Fraunhof.’
‘Why are you helping us?’ Myrrhini could not resist asking.
‘You killed six soldiers of the Blindfolded Queen, that’s reason enough there. That, and the fine stash of her coin you had in your gear. Those two reasons would get you anything here in Venste.’
‘You took all our coin?’
Manred grinned. ‘Sure did. And in return, I gave you new gear, told you where to go and we’ll get you out of the city without getting sold at the blocks. Good deal, I think.’
Myrrhini thought about it and had to agree. It was a good deal. The money had not been theirs in the first place and these clothes were better than the uniforms.
Manred led them out into the street. They moved quickly through the city, past the market, beyond the stench of the slave blocks to the eastern gate. It was so easy Myrrhini believed they could have done it themselves. At the gate, Manred pointed.
‘Leserlang is that way. At night follow the tail of the great shark. He will lead you true. The weather changes fast as you head south. In a day or so, you’ll be longing for the gentle cool of Venste, believe me.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Myrrhini said.
‘You are Acolyte,’ Manred assured her. ‘So it’s unlikely you’ve ever known heat. Leserlang is not hot, but warmer than here. You’ll feel it.’
Slave of Sondelle: The Eleven Kingdoms Page 34