Tarbaby Trouble [Mudflat 1]

by Phoebe Matthews

  A hand slid up my back and forced my head forward, pushing my face down into a shoulder covered by thick fur. With my mouth full of animal hair and my ear warmed by his face pressing against it, my screams were muffled enough that I heard his voice.

  "Stargazer! Stargazer! It's me."

  Tarvik. I let my body go limp. He loosened his hold.

  A whole vocabulary of words crowded my thoughts but I could say none of them. All I could do was stand with his arms still holding me up and pick away at the animal hairs stuck to my wet tongue.

  "What are you doing?” he asked. He could not see me but he could feel me moving.

  I spit out the last hair. My throat ached from screaming. My eyes were hot with tears.

  Through my fury I managed to gasp, “Tarvik, I am trying to decide whether to hug you or kick you."

  He snickered and said, “Let me choose."

  "Why are you here?"

  I thought about smacking him but decided it wasn't worth the effort.

  "When we reached the valley we found we could secure the pass. And so I came back to see how it was with you."

  "Erlan will see your horse and know you're here,” I muttered at him.

  I wanted to push him away, beat him with my fists, punch whatever I could reach, I was so angry with him. But in the darkness, I also wanted him near enough to touch. I wasn't sure which of us was clinging to the other. I simply lacked the courage to let go of him.

  "I left the valley with Artur,” he said. “This sunrise I sent him back with my horse and came the rest of the way on foot. When I reached the castle gate I saw Erlan's men searching the hilltop and so I came in here to hide."

  "And then stood silent so you could shock the hell out of me?"

  "I did not know you were here until you touched me."

  "But you didn't holler!"

  "Stargazer, I had no time to fear. You screamed so soon. I knew your voice."

  "You knew my voice screaming?"

  He hesitated. If he hadn't done that, I might have bought his line.

  "You knew I was here before I touched you,” I said.

  "No. Yes. I was not sure. I heard you moving along the wall. I have stood often enough in this place to know it has no sounds. And as no one but you knows this way, I thought it must be you."

  "You could have said something."

  "How could I be sure it was you?” he asked.

  The little bastard knew damn well it was me.

  I said slowly, “You win. I'll admit I'm happier now you're here. But why did you come back? You've risked your life for what? You can't help me, not if Erlan sticks around."

  "I can take you out of here before you fall ill,” he said, his arms still around me. “You are shaking with chill. Erlan's men did a quick search of the castle and now they have their cook fires set up outside. None are inside."

  He turned me around and led me through the blackness that terrified me but was home to him. We left through the secret door to his room. The room was dark shadows with an odd streak of moonlight coming in through the narrow window opening at the ceiling's edge.

  "That painting of me on the wall,” I said, although the room was so dark I couldn't see it now. “When did you paint it?"

  "Listen,” he said, ignoring my question. “Do you hear anyone?"

  I stopped and listened. The shadows sang with a low steady layer of sound that had no source.

  "I hear my blood pounding in my ears,” I whispered, and then I heard it, a distant murmur of voices. “Some of them are in the castle."

  He nodded and drew me back across the room, opened the secret door and slipped back into the passageway, then closed the door. We stood in the darkness, motionless.

  "They have decided not to believe my story of fever,” I said.

  In the dark I couldn't see his face. What was he thinking? Was he frightened?

  "They must plan to stay,” I said. “We could be trapped here until we die."

  "I can't think of a nicer person to die with,” he said, “but I have to consider my people."

  I did wish I could see his face. His tone was light, teasing, and I didn't believe it. I reached toward his voice until my fingers touched his face and I traced the heavy frown line between his brows. I finished his thought.

  "If Erlan stays, he will track them down and eventually figure out how to get past your guards,” I said.

  "Yes."

  He reached up and caught my outstretched fingers and I clung to his hands. I wanted to curl up in a ball on the floor and wrap my cloak over my head and pretend I was anywhere but in that black prison. As long as I could touch him and know he was there, I could stay sort of sane.

  "We have to find a way to stop Erlan,” I said.

  "I can stop Erlan,” he said. “I can search the castle until I find him and I can kill him. And then his men will outnumber me. But after they kill me, will they stay?"

  "After they kill you?"

  "Yes. I think that might work. With Erlan dead, his army will turn homeward. Their rations must be very low. Without Erlan to push them, they won't want to waste time searching further."

  "After they kill you?” I said again. “What do you mean, after they kill you?"

  His hands tightened around mine. “Stargazer, we must go along the passage until we find where they are. Then I will go after my uncle. You may have to hide here for a day or two until they are gone. Then find my guards."

  "No!” I screamed, and he pressed his open palm over my mouth for a brief moment.

  I bit my lip to hold back my voice.

  Tears burned and I reached into my pocket for my handkerchief. No time for crying, not with this delusional guy on a hero kick. Somehow I had to find another way out. My fingers touched the vial.

  "Oh. Tarvik. Wait, let me tell you,” I whispered.

  My words tumbled and slurred, almost beyond my control, because I thought I had an answer, I simply did not know how to use it. I explained about the vial, which maybe contained some sort of drug, and about the box of powder I was sure was the stuff Alakar had given him. Not fatal, but it had done the job of knocking out Tarvik.

  "Yes, that sounds right, she used a powder. But what use is it to us?"

  "First we have to find out where Erlan's men are,” I said. “Then we can decide what to do. And that means no big brave combat challenge from you. This isn't a tournament and nobody will award your dead body a prize."

  He laughed and it was such a normal sound. We felt our way along the silent passage, stopping several times when we reached doorways known to Tarvik. At each, he found the hidden catch and eased the door open a hand's width, peering through to darkness. We listened. We heard nothing.

  Leaving the passage, we crept across empty rooms and cold courtyards, looking for reflected light from lamps or fires, listening for sounds beyond the night wind.

  I smelled it before I saw it, vegetarian that I am, that nauseating odor of roasting meat. We stood behind a door that opened to one of the many courtyards and I whispered, “Mutton cooking."

  The fire was around a corner and cast a moving shadow on the far wall. It was a low fire, probably banked coals beneath a roasting spit.

  We crept forward into the winter night. At the corner we both peered around the wall. A lone guard squatted by the fire. There was a shapeless hunk of meat on the spit. Pushed into the coals was a pot filled with something that did not bubble but gave off a thin curl of steam.

  Closer to the wall and to us were several tall jars.

  From somewhere past the guard and the courtyard's outer gate, we heard the low buzz of talk.

  "What's in the pan?” I whispered.

  "Drippings, probably. To dip bread."

  "And in the jars?"

  "Mead, I should guess."

  I yanked him back around the corner and out of sight of the guard. “I don't know what heat will do to the powder. Will they heat the mead?"

  "Shouldn't think so. That mutton is about rea
dy. They'll want to eat."

  "All right. I'll empty the box into the mead. Might not be enough to knock out anyone, but if it makes them at all ill, that'll do."

  "Ill? Why?"

  "I told Erlan there'd been a plague. Everyone left to avoid the spread."

  "He believed that?"

  "Also told him the fires were funeral pyres. Nance and Lor torched the far hillsides."

  "We saw the smoke last night. You must be magic if he believed you."

  I didn't explain about Nance's glider, that was her secret. And I certainly wasn't going to tell him that I had vomited on his uncle's feet.

  "Give me the box,” he whispered.

  "No, I'm darker than you. Less apt to be seen in the shadows.” He opened his mouth to argue and I pressed my fingertips against his lips. “Tarvik, listen. They know I am here. If they catch me, they won't look for you."

  "No, I won't let you."

  "I'm not playing hero, honestly. They think I'm sick and have a deadly fever. None of them want to get near me. You need to go back to your camp so you can lead the fight against your uncle, in case this doesn't work."

  And while he stared at me, trying to think up an argument, I ducked away from him and slipped around the wall.

  The guard was half asleep, squatted on his heels by the fire. I watched him breathe in that slow rhythm, his eyes almost closed, his soldier body used to grabbing rest without quite losing consciousness. His clothes were shabby, battle-worn, and in the flickering light I could see raw scrapes on his face and hands.

  I moved silently a half step at a time, barely lifting my feet, one hand against the wall to steady myself. Nearby voices mixed with the low whistle of wind. With that thin background of sound, I took the little metal box out of my pocket. If it held nothing more than face powder, I'd made a bum choice.

  When I reached the first jar, I emptied the contents of the box into it. So that was done. It either had an effect or it didn't. For a moment I thought about the vial of liquid. Should I add it also? I put my hand back into my pocket, dropped the box and felt around for the vial.

  "Ho! You!"

  I froze. I could not even turn my head to look at him.

  Flattening myself to the wall, I pressed my hands against it. My feet wouldn't move, but what of it? There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and I had to hope Tarvik had the sense to get back to the secret passageway and close the door. I could perhaps stay alive for a while with chants and lies and who knew what. I could froth at the mouth and fall at their feet and pretend to be dying of fever until I died beneath their swords.

  Does that sound brave? Hope so, because it's noble to go out like a hero, but the truth was, I had no choice. I could not possibly outrun the guard and if I did, there was an army of them in the outer yard.

  I felt him and smelled him as he leaned closer. I tried to roll my eyes, to look ill and contagious, and let my head fall sideways. I made some really disgusting sounds and if he came closer, fear and nausea would empty what was left in my stomach and the sounds would be real.

  He looked like every soldier, dirty, weary, frightened, his face slick with nervous sweat. He held his dagger a breath away from my throat. Questions slid across his face as he stared at me.

  "You,” he mumbled, his eyes unfocused. “Templekeeper."

  The guard threw his weight against me, crashing me against the stone wall. My body screamed while I managed to choke back sound. I tried to break the impact, threw my arms behind me, felt burning, sharp pain, all dulled by shock. He caught my hair and pulled it up until I thought my neck would snap, then swung me away from the wall toward the fire. My vision blurred.

  He was afraid to kill me. Would his ruler want me alive?

  He opened his mouth to shout to his fellow guards and I knew my luck was over. Erlan was stupid, but not mindless. He would search my pockets and guess what I had done.

  The man's voice broke in a ragged gurgle of sound that died on the edge of a cry.

  I struggled to focus and saw an arm snaked around his neck from in back of him, the elbow forcing up his chin. A hand adorned with gold rings clamped over his mouth.

  The man let go of me and I almost stumbled into the coals.

  Blood ran from my torn elbows, trailing down both arms. I bit back sobs, held in tears. This sort of roughhouse stuff, it looks good in TV action shows and maybe people who tramp the wilderness sort of expect some bruises, but it's not part of normal city living, at least not for me. Whimpering was my normal reaction and I knew that wasn't a choice. Not whimpering. Not howling.

  Tarvik hauled him toward the back wall and I saw the tracks the guard's heels made in the dirt.

  Diving at his feet, I grabbed his ankles, lifted them. It seemed like hours but could only have been seconds. We carried him between us, Tarvik's arms sliding around the shoulders to take most of the weight.

  "Where is he?” a voice shouted. “He's supposed to be here, watching the fire."

  I froze and stared into Tarvik's widened eyes.

  We were dead. They would capture both of us and take us to Erlan. He would find the vials in my pocket, see his live and healthy nephew, and no matter how thick and stupid his brain, he would know I'd tricked him. That would be the end of us and the beginning of Erlan's pursuit of the missing residents of the city.

  "Looks about done,” another voice said, and I thought he was right, we were done.

  Tarvik's mouth clamped shut and I did likewise. He jerked the shoulders of our prisoner, lifting most of the man's weight by himself and still kept his one elbow wedged so tightly beneath the chin that the man could only make low choking sounds. I stumbled after, clinging to the ankles to prevent his feet from dragging.

  "I'll look around, he can't be far,” the first voice said.

  His companion said, “Gives me the creeps, fixing our food here, all those people dead. Ever see fever spread?"

  We pulled the guard into the passageway, dropped him on the floor and closed the door. I heard Tarvik drag the man across the floor, heard the body bumping against the stones, and could not guess why the man made no sound. Was he dead?

  When Tarvik reached a doorway, he opened it, pulled his prisoner into a dim room. I had lost any sense of direction and couldn't guess where we were, other than in one of the many bedrooms.

  The guard moaned.

  "He'll come around unless I kill him,” Tarvik said and I tried to pretend I had not heard him.

  "Could you tie him up or something?"

  "And have him found?"

  "Maybe we could drug him. Oh. All that is left is the vial."

  "Use it,” he said.

  "But what if it is a poison?"

  "You can give him the vial or I can break his neck,” he said, and he smiled his wide toothy smile at me. I must have been crazy thinking I could read his face. He could not possibly be having smiley thoughts.

  The best I could do was hope the liquid was a sleeping potion.

  The guard's eyes opened and he struggled, half-conscious, against Tarvik's grip. He was larger and heavier than Tarvik, his skin slick with sweat, his body twisting. He wrenched his head sideways, gasped, went still.

  Tarvik knew exactly how to hold him. I wondered if it was one of those lessons taught to barbarian sons along with sword fighting skills, how to disable and control large smelly opponents.

  Tarvik kept his elbow under the man's chin and with his other hand, he held his nose.

  I opened the vial and poured its contents into the open mouth.

  Tarvik held him until he passed out, either from the grip on his neck or from the drug. He went limp and slid to the floor.

  Tarvik said, “He is breathing, Stargazer, so stop worrying."

  He caught my hand and led me into the castle hallway, which looked like every hall I had seen and so I didn't know where we were. We ducked in and out of rooms until we reached the one Tarvik wanted, went through it to another hidden entrance to the passageway, felt our way thro
ugh the black, exited again, this time into a small inner courtyard with only one gate. The gate was bolted from the inside.

  "No one comes here,” he said.

  Like all the courtyards it was depressingly bare except for a long low bench. But there was a bit of light from the starry sky and it was warmer outdoors than inside the stone walls.

  My teeth were chattering and I must have looked about to pass out, because Tarvik suddenly wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into a warm hug, stroked the side of my face. Could he do that all at once? It seemed to me like he had a couple of extra hands.

  He smoothed my hair, pressed his mouth against my ear, whispered, “He will not die. We did not kill him. He will be fine. Please, don't cry."

  I wasn't crying. Or I didn't think I was until he started brushing tears from my face. It wasn't so much fear as exhaustion, I think.

  With his hand under my chin, he turned me and pressed his forehead against mine, our eyes so close, all I could see was a blur.

  "Have you slept at all these last few nights?"

  "Of course,” I said.

  "Blinked your eyes a few times, yes?"

  I was so tired I leaned into his hug, clung to him, felt his body heat radiate through me until I stopped shivering.

  "It must be that I am warm that you like. I'm not sticky or black or even very soft,” he said.

  I moved far enough back from him to be able to see his face. “No. Who said you were?"

  "You did. You called me Tarbaby once and then you said that is what a tarbaby is. You also said a tarbaby is cute. Am I cute?"

  "Good grief!” I put my head back on his shoulder. “Do you memorize every word I say?"

  "I try to,” he said. “Come on, I think you need to sleep."

  He led me over to the bench, sat down, then pulled me down beside him. He wrapped my robe tightly around me and even arranged the hood up over my head. If I hadn't been so exhausted I might have argued.

  Somewhere on the trip through the passage he had snagged a jar of mead.

  Now he opened his robe and tugged out the hem of the short linen tunic he wore above his wool pants and boots. I was too tired to think, but the sound of ripping cloth made me watch. He tore off a strip, then dipped it in the mead.