But she wasn’t.
By midmorning the next day, Kanlara still had not returned and Teza had paced and worried to the point of nausea. As angry as Kanlara probably was, if she was able, she would have come back by that time.
Just before noon Teza tied her hair into a tight braid, piled it up on her head, and pulled a loose fur hat over the whole thing. She dressed in a pair of men’s pants and boots and strapped a dagger to her side. Her smooth cheeks were dusted with a shadow of charcoal dust and, to finish off her disguise, she added a false mustache carefully crafted from horse hair. It was a disguise she had used successfully before and one few in Immilmar had seen. With luck it would get her safely where she wanted to go.
Teza hurried outdoors and strode just a few short blocks to the communal longhouse. The morning was overcast; the air cold and biting. Quite a few citizens were out on their daily business, and quite a few more were heading in the same direction as Teza, for the daily kohrtar, or charging of criminals, at the loughouse.
The squat longhouse sat on a short hill overlooking one of the main roads leading to the busy docks on the Lake of Tears. It was a large, if rather plain building used by the citizens of Immilmar for all the meetings of the Elders who ran the city, as well as gatherings of various guilds and parties. Every day at noon, or when needed, the Elders held the kohrtar to charge suspects of crimes and to hold trials for those already charged.
Teza knew if Kanlara had been arrested for the murder that she would be brought before the judges this noon. Keeping quiet, Teza mingled with the crowd moving through the open doors. Obviously, word of the murcler had already spread through the city, and curious onlookers were coming to have a look. The young woman squeezed into an open space by the back wall and waited, her heart in her throat.
In just a few minutes a Fang guardsman slammed his sword on his shield to signal the arrival of the Elders. The noisy room fell silent. At the far end of the long room, three Elders practiced in the rudiments of Rashemi law (and law in Rashemen was rather rudimentary), entered and took their seats at a table placed on a dais. A fyrra, wearing the emblem of the Vrul clan stood to one side, his hawk glance fastened intently on the proceedings.
A second Fang guard read the day’s charges from a roll of parchment. Several minor infractions were quickly dealt with by imposing fines or several days in the Iron Lord’s dungeon.
At last the guard announced, “For the murder of the Lord Gireth StoneHamtner of the Vrul Clan we hold the outlander, Kanlara. She was found beside the body with blood on her hands. Although she claims innocence and, as yet, no weapon has been found, the court feels there is enough evidence to try her.”
A shock of guilt and fear jolted through Teza. “This can’t be,” she groaned. But she had predicted it herself.
At the sound of the sword clashing on the iron embossed shield, Kanlara was led in between two more armed guards. Her bright red hair stood out like a lick of flame among the black-haired Rashemaar.
Teza stared at her friend’s face and she felt her hands begin to shake. Kanlara’s beautiful features were slack; her bright gaze dulled. She walked with the stiff, uncaring motions of a lich between her two guards, going where they pushed her, stopping when they pulled her to a halt.
“The sewer scum,” Teza spat. “They’ve put a feeblemind spell on her.”
“Of course,” said the woman beside her. “She’s an outland wizardess. It’s a wonder she’s been allowed to stay here at all. Usually the Witches send other magic-wielders running for the border.”
“Yes, and look what happened-one of our own murdered. There’s good reason for keeping strange wizardesses out of Rashemen,” observed a second bystander.
Teza bit her lip hard to keep back a retort. She did not dare draw any more attention to herself. Instead she left the wall and pushed a little closer to the front where she could see Kanlara better. The wizardess’s face was pale and her dress was torn and stained with blood. Bruises discolored her wrists where guards had tied her hands with too much enthusiasm.
The horse thief thrust her hands into her pockets and clenched her fingers into tight fists. Not once in her ill-begotten life had someone she loved suffered the consequences of her actions. Now, the thought that she might lose her friend because of her own cowardice hurt more than she ever believed possible. If she had only stayed with Kanlara to talk to the guards…
“The charges have been read and entered in the city’s rolls,” intoned an Elder. “Are there any who wish to stand for her at trial?”
Teza’s eyes widened. She had not thought the judges would offer that boon to a foreigner. Usually the right of defense only went to citizens of Rashemen. The crowd around her murmured in surprise. They hadn’t expected that either.
“Oh, by all the gods,” Teza breathed. “What do I do?” Although few people remembered, there was still a longstanding price on her head. If she stood forward to defend Kanlara, she could expose herself and risk imprisonment in the Iron Lord’s dungeon, or worse. The penalty for thievery in Immilmar was often the loss of a hand to the axe. Yet, if she didn’t try to help Kanlara, it was a foregone conclusion that the wizardess would be found guilty and executed for a crime she would never commit.
Teza shivered. Never had she been so torn in two, but never had she had a friend quite like the strong, obstinate, honorable Kanlara.
“I ask one last time,” boomed the judge. “Is there anyone-”
“I will,” Teza cried abruptly. She cringed at the high note her voice hit. She dropped her tone immediately and tried again. “I will stand for the accused.”
A babble of voices broke as people turned to stare.
“And you are?” the judge demanded.
“Tezan, citizen of Immilmar. The accused is my friend.”
“So let it be written. The wizardess will be held for trial in three days’ time. You have until then, young man, to make her defense.”
The sword clashed again and Kanlara was led away. The crowd slowly dispersed and Teza turned on her heel, pushing her way out of the longhouse. There was only one thing she could think to do at this moment. She walked to the nearest tavern, ordered a mug of jhuild, Rashemen’s famous firewine, and downed it all in one long, fiery pull until her throat burned and her eyes watered. The other customers cheered her, astonished at her prodigious feat.
Thus fortified, she set out do the only other thing she could think to do-face the witches in their den. The witches of Rashemen were a powerful and secretive sisterhood that ruled and protected the country. Although the majority made their home in Urling, a contingent kept a longhouse in Immilmar to support the trio of Hathran who in turn supported and advised the Iron Lord. Teza deeply respected and feared the powerful witches. After her encounter with a witch two years before, she usually went out of her way to avoid them. Now, though, she marched to the front entrance of the Witches’ Hall and boldly knocked on the carved wooden door.
The door immediately swung open of its own volition. Teza peered into the dim interior. When she saw nothing, she swallowed hard and walked inside.
A tall, black-robed woman stepped out of the shadows to meet her in the foyer of a long hallway. The witch’s face was covered with a gray mask and her hands were tucked in her long sleeves. She said nothing, but waited for Teza to speak.
The horse thief bowed low and tried to keep her voice smooth and even. “I am sorry to disturb your peace, but there is one here who knows my friend, Kanlara the wizardess. May I speak with her?”
“I am she, Teza,” replied the witch.
Teza’s hand flew to her false mustache. The witch knew her and since she was waiting, she must know what was happening to Kanlara. Without thinking, Teza burst out, “You know Kanlara didn’t do it. She was following me and the man was already dead when we found him. Please, is there anything you can do to help her?”
“There is little we can do. She is an outland speilcaster accused of murder by the city authorities. She mu
st continue through the trial.”
“The trial,” Teza repeated bitterly. “That is a joke. She is already condemned.”
The black figure did not stir. “Unless you prove her innocent.”
“The only way I can do that to the Elders’ satisfaction is to fmd the real killer.”
“Precisely.” The woman raised an elegant hand and beckoned to Teza to follow. “We do believe Kanlara is innocent. We have been keeping a close watch on Lord Gireth for some time, and his enemies are as numerous as the tears in Lake Ashane.”
While she talked, the witch led Teza down a long, empty corridor lined with doors. The hail around them seemed empty and silent, yet Teza knew without a doubt they were being watched by numerous pairs of eyes. She stifled a shudder and tried to pay close attention to her guide.
“While we cannot help Kanlara directly, we can help you solve her problem.” So saying, she pushed open a door and escorted Teza into a dim, windowless room. The only light radiated from a single small fire that burned in a high-legged brazier sitting alone in the room. Just above the flames hovered a nebulous shape that wavered and swayed with the smoke.
“Lord Gireth!” the witch commanded.
Teza gasped. The indistinct form quickly coalesced into the head and sharp features of the dead Rashemen fyrra, and his ghostly face turned toward them.
“We summoned his spirit back to talk to you. He did not see his killer, but perhaps he can give you some clues.”
The young woman looked from the spectral head to the witch and back again, then said, “Lord Gireth, why were you in the barn that night?”
The ghost frowned at the memory. “I was to meet someone. A spy of mine who had information for me.”
“What sort of information?”
“I don’t know. I received a message to meet him outside in the barn. He knew I was staying at that inn.”
“Why did you come to Immilmar?”
The spirit suddenly grinned wickedly. “To betray my brother-in-law. He abused his privileges one time too many.”
“Did he know you were coming?”
“No. No one knew but my spy.”
Teza paused, thinking hard. “Did you see anything before you were… killed?”
“No. I was alone, waiting for Alfric. He is a serving man for my brother-in-law. I did smell something, though.” The ghost gave a hideous chortle. “Even over the horse manure I thought I caught a whiff of the lake.”
Teza nodded once. The witch raised her hands, spoke a strange word, and snuffed out the fire. Lord Gireth’s spirit form vanished from sight.
“Now,” said Teza’s black-robed companion. “There is the matter of your vulnerability. You cannot concentrate on this quest if you are constantly dodging into taverns and racing home to change disguises.”
Teza tore her eyes away from the now dark brazier and frowned. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “That is my problem,” she said.
“True. But we can temporarily relieve you of that difficulty. You only have three days to find the killer.”
“Teza crossed her arms. “How?”
“A disguise no one will penetrate.”
Teza thought she heard a hint of laughter in the witch’s words. Her mental alarms began to clang. “That’s kind, but…“ She got no further.
The witch lifted her palms up and blew a pale, glimmering powder into Teza’s face. Even as the woman chanted her incantation, Teza felt an alien feeling crawl over her. Her skin tingled; her nose lengthened. Her legs and arms shortened so quickly she fell on her side on the cold stone floor. Her clothes sagged on her body. Worst of all, she was assailed by an explosion of sensory stimulation: hundreds of smells she had never experienced, new sounds that filled her sensitive ears. Her vision sharpened in the dark room and lost most of its color. Terrified she closed her eyes and shouted, “Stop!” She heard a dog bark so close it could have been beneath her.
Oh, no, she thought.
“Teza,” a gentle voice said above her. “It’s over now. Stand up.”
Slowly, carefully, Teza opened her eyes and climbed to her feet. All four of them. Too astounded for anger, her rump sagged to the floor and she sat.
“Excellent. This spell will last only three days, so don’t worry. Think of the advantages and put them to use. You will retain your own intelligence, but you will also be able to communicate with other animals and with those creatures, human and otherwise, who are a part of magic. Do you understand?”
Teza growled, “Yes.” She had a hundred other well chosen questions and opinions she wanted to add, but she was too bemused. Besides, her human memory reminded her, to disobey a witch was to ask for immediate death. If this witch thought Teza would be more effective as a dog, then that’s how it would be.
Grumbling to herself, she padded after the witch back to the front entrance. The door stood open.
“Chauntea go with you,” said the witch softly, and she shut the door behind Teza.
For a long while, Teza the dog stood immobile by the hail, her head lowered and her tail tucked between her legs. Of all the stupid, manipulating things to do to someone. At least the witch could have turned her into a horse.
This was all so bewildering. There were too many smells and too many sounds. Her vision was different and her body was aligned in a strange new way. Her perspective had changed, too. As a human she could look many people in the eyes, now all she could see were legs. Thankfully, the witch had made her a large dog, one people would not try to kick or eat or catch.
Just then the breeze wafted a scent toward her that even her dog sense recognized. She lifted her eyes to see a man walking along the road toward her-a young man in a shaggy coat and a jaunty knit hat and a smile that had melted her human heart on many occasions.
“Jereth!” she called as he passed.
The young man heard a woof. He glanced around at her, flashed his grin, and ruffled her shaggy ears. “Good day to you, too, big dog. Out watching the people? Well, maybe you’d better find another door to sit by before those witches turn you into a doorstop.” He patted her again and sauntered away, his boots crunching on the snow.
Teza watched him go, her ears cocked thoughtfully. Perhaps the witch’s spell had merit. If Jereth, a man who knew Teza very well indeed, did not suspect she was anything more than a dog, then no one else would either. Teza’s confusion melted away in the warmth of a growing curiosity. She had always been good at disguises, but this was the best one she’d ever had. This might prove rather interesting.
Hesitantly at first, Teza set out toward the Red Stallion Inn. As the witch pointed out, there were only three days to help Kanlara. So, dog or no dog, Teza decided she had better get busy. To her surprise and pleasure, her mind quickly adapted to the strange new ways of her canine body. Before long she was swinging along at a jaunty trot with her long tail high and her ears flapping. The distance to the inn vanished quickly under her long-legged pace.
The inn lay quietly in its shelter of trees with only a wisp of smoke from the kitchen chimney to show a sign of life. Teza trotted around the back and into the stable through the groom’s door. There were many more empty stalls this afternoon. A few ponies nibbled hay in a pen at one end and one horse dozed in a stall.
Teza inhaled deeply, astonished at the intensity and variety of the smells she could identify. The stall where Lord Gireth had died was all too easy to find by the intense, metallic scent of old blood. The bloodied straw had been removed, but nothing could disguise the smells that had soaked into the earth floor. Teza began a slow and careful search of the stall’s interior.
“New around here?” a husky voice asked. “I hope you’re not planning to stay.”
Startled, Teza looked up to see a large yellow tomcat perched on the wooden wall. “No, no,” she hastened to reassure. How she knew how to communicate with him so easily she never knew, but her speech was a richly varied combination of vocal sounds, body language, and an instinctive enhancement of mental images
. It was remarkable, and it just seemed to come with the disguise. “The people think my friend killed this man. I want to find out who really did.” She continued to sniff around under the close scrutiny of the yellow cat.
There were any number of human scents in this stall, including her own and Kanlara’s. She also identified
Lord Gireth’s smell on the floor and on the door of the stall and two others that were quite fresh. “How many people have been in the stable today?” she asked the cat politely.
The torn ignored her as he settled down in the hay of the feed rack.
“Don’t pay attention to that lazy floor rug,” another voice squeaked. A small black rat poked her nose out of a hole under the hay rack. “He is older than this inn and just as set in his ways. If you want to know, ask me. There were three people who came in here last night to remove the body and one more who cleaned it out this morning. That was some excitement. We haven’t seen such goings on since the last midwinter festival.”
Teza lifted her lips in a dogish smile at the rat’s cheerful chatter. “Did you see anyone else before the man died?”
“Oh, certainly. There was the man, the selkie that met him, a guard, a woman who-”
“What?” Teza barked. “A selkie. Are you certain?”
The rat stuck out her whiskers and lifted her nose. “As certain as the darkness. Smell it yourself. She leaned against that wall.”
Teza sniffed and there it was, just as Lord Gireth had said, a whiff of the lake.
In the flick of an eye, the rat disappeared and like an iron fist a hand grabbed Teza’s ruff and hauled her out of the stall. “Here, you cur. Get out!” A man, tall and well dressed, planted a boot viciously into Teza’s side. Pain lanced through her ribs. She yelped. He pulled back his foot to kick her again, but this time her dog instincts took over.
Fast as a weasel she slipped around in her loose skin and sank her teeth in his arm. His scent and the smell of his blood filled her nostrils. A cry of furious pain escaped his lips. Teza wrenched herself free from his grasp. She caught one glimpse of his face before she whirled away and galloped out of the barn to the safety of the trees.
Realms of Mystery a-6 Page 11