The crowd in front of the burning inn had grown, and Piercy saw the shape of the giant, standing as if mesmerized by the light. Another dark shape detached itself from the crowd and was heading in their direction, first at a trot, then at a run, shouting and waving his hands.
“Faster,” Lady Sethemba said, and they took off running through the midnight streets of Rainoth, quickly outpacing whichever of the Santerrans was following them. Just in time, Piercy thought. It was almost too perfect an escape, but Piercy chose not to dwell on it, instead giving thanks to the Gods for answering his prayer, even if it was in a rather dramatic fashion. Even Gods, he reflected, must like a little drama now and then.
Chapter Ten
They left all five horses scattered throughout Rainoth’s lower-class district, where the residents were poor enough not to ask any questions about who their previous owners had been, but not so poor as to use the animals as stew meat. Their horses and the wagon were where Hodestis had left them, which told Piercy the Gods were indeed watching over them. Despite this being a very wealthy part of town, wealthy people often got to that state by caring very little for other people’s property rights. In Piercy’s time, the gates of Rainoth were never closed, but in this era, it took a few gold coins and some very persuasive speech from Piercy to convince the guards at the gate to let them through at midnight.
“The Santerrans may follow us,” Lady Sethemba said when they were perhaps a quarter mile from the city.
“I am almost certain they will try to follow us,” Piercy said, “but they will need to retrieve their horses first, or purchase new ones, which will waste time, and then they will need to find someone who knows where we have gone.”
“The guards at the gate won’t forget the strangers who left in the middle of the night and paid good gold for the privilege. And I’m pretty sure they’ll tell that story to anyone who’s willing to pay them a similar amount of gold.”
“True, but it was less dangerous than giving the Santerrans time to gather themselves by staying in Rainoth until morning. It is offset by our having left so late few were abroad in the streets to see us go. The Santerrans will likely guess we are no longer in Rainoth, but will have to ask at every gate, and as you say, our amiable and avaricious friends will not part with that information for anything short of hard cash. And we do not need to escape them indefinitely; we need only stay ahead of them until Mr. Hodestis works his magic and returns us to the present.”
“Clever,” Lady Sethemba said grudgingly, and nudged her horse to ride ahead.
Several hours later Piercy blinked against the needle-sharp light of the rising sun and began looking about for a place to pull over and rest. His eyes were gritty from sleeplessness and his arms ached from having been forced so unnaturally behind his back. He flicked the reins of the horse and it moved somewhat faster. Not that it mattered.
Behind him, Hodestis snoozed against the sacks of supplies, occasionally making a low snorting sound like some kind of barnyard animal. Ahead, Lady Sethemba sat perfectly erect in the saddle as if exhaustion didn’t dare touch her. Sunlight gilded her hair, which still looked perfect thanks to all those braids. He couldn’t imagine how women kept their long hair tidy when it hung loose. Did her braids feel rough to the touch, or smooth? He dismissed the image and concentrated on driving without falling asleep.
“I think we can risk stopping,” he said. “Rainoth is out of sight and I feel my limbs beginning to mutiny.”
Lady Sethemba looked around. “I see no good place for shelter.”
“This land is all open plains to the mountains, true, but there are many towns along this road….” Piercy trailed off. There would be many towns. The Gods alone knew what the population was like in this time. He knew a great deal about dates, events, culture, and religion in this era, but he’d never thought to study such questions as how many towns are there between the mountains and Rainoth?
“Then I suppose we must set watches,” Lady Sethemba said, and guided her horse off the verge.
Piercy followed her, but the wagon was so poorly sprung he had trouble hanging onto the seat as it jostled across the rocky verge and into the untilled fields beyond. He had to pull up short only a hundred feet from the road. Hodestis sat up, yawning, and said, “Are we stopping?”
Piercy climbed down, stretched, and his joints popped with the unpleasant sound he hated. “I think we need not stand watch for long. What do you suggest, my lady?”
Lady Sethemba looked at him with some suspicion, as if she expected to find a hidden insult in his words. “I need no more than a few hours’ rest,” she said, “and then I will be able to go on until nightfall.”
“I agree. Will you keep watch first, or should I?”
Another skeptical look. “If you rest first, we can tie my horse to the wagon and I can sleep in the wagon bed while you drive.”
“Assuming you are able to sleep in that rickety contraption. I fear we will encounter some form of native wildlife and it will collapse in terror.”
She smiled, and Piercy felt warmer inside. “Should I take a watch, or do you still not trust me?” Hodestis said, plaintively.
“You will have your turn tonight,” Lady Sethemba said, but without rancor. “For now, you can watch with me, and in an hour or so we will continue.”
Piercy spread the ground cloth from one of the tents under the wagon, then settled himself and stared for a moment at the splintery roof of the wagon bed above him. The next thing he knew, a hand was shaking him awake and Lady Sethemba was saying, “It is time to move on.”
They stowed the ground cloth and made a bed for Lady Sethemba after tying her horse’s reins to the wagon, then rumbled back to the road and proceeded east once more. After a few minutes of ensuring the piebald horse wouldn’t veer off the road in pursuit of the dry but apparently delicious grass, Piercy settled back and tried not to let boredom overcome him. There was nothing to see here but the gentle rises covered with autumn-parched grasses that stretched to the horizon as far as he could see in every direction. Hodestis sat beside him, clinging to the seat with both hands as if he feared it might buck him off. For such a timid, unworldly fellow, he was remarkably tenacious. And he’d come back for them. Possibly he was trustworthy after all, at least as far as that went.
“Explain your spell to me in more detail,” he said. “Your first portal brought us…let me see…two hundred and forty-two years into the past, but without displacing us from our location near the zoological gardens?”
“That’s right. I had to wait for the velocitor to be taken as close to Rainoth as possible so I’d have the shortest distance to travel to the monastery.”
“And you have enough magical energy, or whatever it is the stone contains, to open only one more portal.”
“I didn’t tell you that’s where the magic was.”
“It was an informed inference. Does that mean we will have to travel again to be close to where your lady is?”
“No. It will be easier to get fast transportation in the future than it is here. We’ll return there as soon as we’ve retrieved the necklace and gotten some short distance from the monastery.”
“That fills me with relief.” Piercy glanced back at Lady Sethemba; she was sleeping soundly. “We should probably escort you to your lady’s home, or wherever she lies.”
“Oh, I couldn’t ask so much of you!” Hodestis sounded unnaturally alarmed by the thought.
“No, but I find myself reluctant to allow you to wander unsupervised through what will still be largely wilderness. Though I should not speak for Lady Sethemba; she likely will want to rejoin her princess.”
“Thanks for your concern, but it really is unnecessary.” Hodestis went silent for a few minutes, then said, “You seem unusually clever for a town dandy. Oh! That was insulting. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I understood your meaning,” Piercy said, amused.
“I think you must be a spy of some kind.”
“If I were, I would not admit it to you.”
“And Lady Sethemba is a spy as well.”
“I suggest you not bring that supposition to her attention unless you wish to be known as Hodestis One-Ear.”
“Well, you’re both far too capable at fighting and sneaking around to be ordinary people. Why were you at the zoological gardens that day?”
“Lady Sethemba is the attendant to the Santerran ambassador, and I was attached to her party as cultural liaison.” That was a good phrase. He wished he’d thought of it earlier, at least in time to recommend it to Tedoratis. It sounded so much nobler than “nanny.”
“You mean the Foreign Office. Aren’t they all spies?”
“Again, I must decline to answer.”
“Why don’t you tell him the truth?” Lady Sethemba said in Santerran, startling Piercy. He hadn’t realized she was awake. “He’s clearly already guessed.”
“Because him guessing the truth is rather different from me telling him the truth.”
“Then you are a spy.”
“Of course.”
“And yet you don’t have trouble admitting it to me.”
“Professional courtesy, my lady.”
“What are you saying?” Hodestis said. “I think it’s rude to speak another language in front of someone who doesn’t speak it. You still don’t trust me, do you?”
“We do not distrust you,” Lady Sethemba said, “and you are right, we should not do that in your presence.”
“That’s all right,” Hodestis said, somewhat mollified.
“At any rate, whether we are spies or not, we are certainly the ones who will help you attain your goal, so I think it is inconsiderate of you to pry where we have said we dislike prying,” Piercy said.
“Sorry. Can I ride in the back now? I’m still tired.”
“If Lady Sethemba agrees.”
Lady Sethemba stood up, wobbled, then managed to mount the piebald mare from the back of the wagon in a way that made Piercy envious. He was a good horseman, but that maneuver was beyond him. Hodestis climbed over the seat and fell into the makeshift bed. Piercy encouraged the horse to go faster. They still had several days’ journey ahead of them, and there was no sense dawdling.
They had the road to themselves for much of the day. A few families that looked like prosperous farmers passed them heading west toward Rainoth, dressed in very nice clothing as if prepared for a day in the big city. A man on a black horse moving at a remarkable pace rode past them going eastward, cursing them when they didn’t move aside for him. The wagon simply was not that maneuverable, and Piercy didn’t care if they inconvenienced the man.
Just after noon, Piercy became aware of a fuzziness along the distant eastern horizon. He shielded his eyes and stood up briefly in the seat for a better look. “Is that a forest?” he said.
“I think so,” Hodestis said. “Let me see.” He pulled out a tarnished silver quizzing glass, passed his hand over it, and muttered, “Solto spexa.” The rim of the lens glowed a bright green which quickly faded to a more bearable light. Hodestis held it to his eye, then said. “It is a forest. I didn’t know it was there. There’s nothing but plains all the way to the mountains in our time.”
“Does this change our plans?” Lady Sethemba said.
“Maybe,” Piercy said. “It might take more time. We might have to drive a few more hours every day, possibly after dark.”
Three more hours of travel brought them to the edge of the forest. Piercy had seen signs of civilization as they traveled, farmhouses with busy men and women harvesting crops, a village or two well off the road, but as they drew closer to the forest, Piercy felt as if the three of them were the only people left in the world.
The forest was more of an overgrown bramble patch than a proper woods. The leafless branches stretched across the road to tangle with one another, tugging at Piercy’s hair so he had to duck uncomfortably low to stay clear of them. Lady Sethemba had to ride ahead of the wagon for half an hour before the forest stopped encroaching so closely on the road and then drew back entirely, leaving a space nearly fifty feet wide on both sides of the road.
As darkness approached, they found a spot off to one side and made camp. Lady Sethemba started a fire, welcome in the growing chill, and they ate in silence. Piercy offered to take the first watch, and Lady Sethemba agreed without argument, which told him she was likely as tired as he was.
He banked the fire, then sat beside it, shivering, as the other two settled into the tents. It was still a clear night, no chance of rain, but chilly enough that he had to get up and walk around to keep himself warm despite his heavy clothing. Piercy found himself thinking fondly of his winter greatcoat and his other boots, the ones made for a city winter that weren’t stained and muddy and not designed for walking great distances on unpaved roads. He almost wished Lady Sethemba had bought him boots; losing the concealed seams and compartments of these ones might be worth his feet being warm and dry. Right now being warm was his greatest preoccupation. He couldn’t believe he’d ever thought scornfully of Matra in the summer. He rubbed his arms and sternly told himself to stop whingeing. There was no point in complaining about something one had no way of changing.
He heard the jingling of harness before the horse came into view, and came around to the side of the wagon facing the road, holding his walking stick loosely in his left hand. That certainly didn’t fit his image of a moderately prosperous farmer, but the stick was an advantage he did not intend to sacrifice.
A dark figure trotted along the road from the east, heavily cloaked and wearing a flat, wide-brimmed hat that shielded his face. Even so, Piercy recognized the rider who’d cursed at them as he rode past earlier that day. Piercy’s grip on the stick tightened, but he leaned against the wagon, a casual stance that said he wasn’t afraid of anyone, certainly not this traveler.
“Good evening,” the man said. His voice was husky and his accent was almost unintelligible.
Piercy paused, deciphering his words, then nodded and said, “Good evening to you.”
“You’re not from these parts,” the man said.
“Just passing through.”
“Hard country, this. Hard to travel, hard to find shelter.”
“That we cannot help, sir.”
“Dangerous, too,” the man said, and Piercy heard something crackle in the woods behind him. Incautiously, he turned around, then whipped back to catch the rider in the chest with his stick as the man leaped from the saddle at him.
“Lady Sethemba!” he shouted, and had no breath for more of a warning because he was tussling with the bandit, who was shorter than he but outweighed him. He tried to switch the stick to his right hand, but the man got in a lucky blow. It fell to the ground, leaving Piercy weaponless. Weaponless, but not defenseless.
The bandit swung at him, wildly, and Piercy slammed his boot hard into the man’s knee, driving him downward. He smashed his enemy’s nose with the heel of his hand as the man went past. The bandit screamed and curled up on the ground around his damaged knee. Piercy swept up his stick, picking it up at the tip, and spun around.
There were at least four other dim shapes rushing out of the forest toward him. He shouted, “Attackers!” and swung the stick, taking one of the men in the jaw with the silver hawk-head. Where was everyone?
He followed the blow with a jab to the stomach his attacker barely dodged. Feinting, the man got hold of the stick and Piercy had to wrestle him for possession of it. Piercy got a second hand on the shaft, cocked his hip and used the man’s own momentum to lift him over his hip to land hard on the ground. Piercy smacked him between the eyes to make sure he’d stay there.
Someone landed on his back and bore him to the ground, pinning his right arm and the walking stick beneath him. Piercy twisted to break his hold, but the man outweighed him, and his efforts to throw the man off did nothing. He shouted for help, not expecting anyone to respond. To his surprise, the man went limp and fell to one side.
“Thank me when it’s over,” she said, and darted away. Piercy followed her. There was no sign of Hodestis, and Piercy prayed he would stay safely in his tent and not make things worse by adding magic to this mix. Two more shapes—no, three—where in Cath’s five hells had they all come from? It was embarrassing that they’d been able to sneak up on him so easily.
The next one he faced had a sword, and worse, moved like he knew how to use it. Piercy parried the first few blows with the stick, then had to dodge the man’s thrust, and dodge again. He was being forced backward, into a defensive battle, which was bad when you weren’t comfortable with the terrain, and his breath was coming faster.
“Lady Sethemba!” he shouted again, darting inside the man’s reach. Piercy rammed into him with his shoulder, shoving him backward so he tripped and nearly impaled Piercy with his sword. Piercy caught a glimpse of someone moving behind the man, and spun out of the way just as Lady Sethemba pulled the bandit’s head back and drew her knife swiftly across his throat. Hot blood steamed in the night air, and she dropped the body and prodded him with her toe. “The others ran,” she said, breathing heavily. “We should—”
“Forva!” someone shouted. A tree burst into flame. Hodestis stood by his tent, hands still raised, blinking in the firelight. “Did I get them?” he said.
He sounded so hopeful Piercy had a sudden need to laugh, as much from the rush of battle as from Hodestis’s expression. He looked at Lady Sethemba and had to bite his lip against the laugh that was struggling harder to get out, because her face perfectly mirrored what he was feeling. “No,” he said, “but it was an excellent attack, albeit one we may regret when this desolation burns down.”
The God-Touched Man Page 11