Path of Honor

by Diana Pharaoh Francis

  Reisil gave a short nod. “All right. But know that I’ve decided. I’m going to find the wizards.” She chopped her hand in the air as Juhrnus began to bluster. “Yes, they might kill me. But at least it’s a chance, and staying here won’t change anything.”

  “Surely you will find a way to heal the plague before then,” Sodur said. “You healed the stripling Vare tonight. You’re coming into your own at last. Even now you might be able to heal the plague and just don’t realize it.”

  Reisil turned. She spoke slowly, as if to an addled child. “The plague is here. I cannot heal it. We’re out of time. And we are all dead.”

  The two men sat transfixed. Reisil paused for a moment, gathering herself, and then plunged into the story, starting after the assassins attacked her. She wasn’t ready to tell them about that, or about the Scallacian sorcerers either.

  As she described the woman’s condition, Reisil covered her eyes, pressing her knuckles against her closed lids as if to gouge out the memory.

  “Incontinence, weeping blisters, bleeding in the eyes and ears and mouth, the purple rash, her arms and legs black and swollen. The smell—”

  “No,” Sodur said, gripping the edge of the table. “Not so soon!”

  Juhrnus said nothing, but Reisil felt him like a hungry black shadow. She hunched her shoulders and dropped her hands from her face.

  “She had a broken wrist. I could fix that.”

  “You’d have been able to heal her if the Lady had willed it,” Sodur said, but his words lacked conviction.

  She laughed, a mocking sound that tore at her throat. “She gave me magic to heal Kodu Riik.” Heal my land. Heal my children—human and animal. Reisil heard the words again and felt herself cringe. “So there you are. The plague is here. You, Juhrnus, me—we’re all going to die. It’s only a matter of time. I certainly cannot save you. Unless the wizards can teach me how.”

  A thick silence descended. At last Reisil slapped the table. “Why give me the power if it does no good? Why doesn’t She do something?”

  “That may not be the worst of it,” Sodur said, letting the words go reluctantly. Reisil jerked around, and Juhrnus grunted.

  “All right then. We’ve eaten. Get on with it.”

  Reisil’s gaze flicked back and forth between the men, her brow furrowed. Juhrnus ignored her, settling a heavy, belligerent gaze on Sodur.

  Sodur rubbed his hand over his mouth, staring into his empty bowl as if scrying in the drippings. “One of the nokulas came to Koduteel about a year ago.”

  He waited, head down, his scalp shining like an egg through his thinning hair. The meaning of his words first sidled past his two listeners, made benign by their quiet tone and Sodur’s blunt telling. Then it circled back, biting from behind like a starving dog. Juhrnus leaped to his feet.

  “Here? How? Where is it?” When Sodur didn’t move, Juhrnus sank back down in his chair. “A year. It’s been here a year. Why didn’t you tell us?” His voice was dull with anger.

  Or was it fear? Reisil couldn’t tell.

  “It’s not as simple as that.”

  Reisil glowered. That was just what he’d said in Veneston. And he was right. It wasn’t simple. But he’d never given them a chance.

  “The creature was here before we knew it for what it was. As for why we said nothing—after Upsakes, we dared not trust anyone. With the peace so new and delicate, we feared what could happen.”

  Sadness washed his voice and pulled down the corners of his eyes and mouth.

  Didn’t trust even us, Reisil added silently.

  “And you’ve seen fit to enlighten us at long last.” Juhrnus’s voice had turned ugly. Not just from fear or anger, Reisil decided. It was helplessness.

  Juhrnus began to hammer Sodur with questions. Reisil let the sounds flow around her, a wrongness slowly taking shape out of her swirling emotions and torrential thoughts. At length Juhrnus rumbled to a halt.

  She spoke in the sudden silence, her voice uninflected. “What else?”

  Sodur cast her a sharp look and drew a deep breath. “There’s a lot you don’t know about the nokulas. We hadn’t even heard of them until three years ago. Then ahalad-kaaslane on circuit started disappearing, mostly in the mountains between here and Patverseme. We thought it was the war—it seemed obvious. But then there began to be sightings. One here, another here. Then more often. Nothing definitive. The reports described ghostly beasts that could chase a mounted man down at full gallop. They had teeth like daggers, slaughtering whoever they encountered. It was hard to credit the stories. Village superstitions. But we sent ahalad-kaaslane to have a look anyhow. They confirmed the villagers’ accounts. But you know how things are. Few at court listened to us.

  “Then the war heated up, and we needed everyone to fight, so we curtailed our investigation. Meanwhile, the nokulas spread through the mountains. Some thought it would keep our borders safe from the Patversemese.”

  “That’s worse than stupid,” Juhrnus said, shoving up from the table to stalk restlessly across the room.

  “Sure, and that’s what we told the Arkeinik. They didn’t want to hear it.”

  “But the ahalad-kaaslane don’t answer to anyone. We do what needs to be done, no matter what anyone else says.”

  Sodur laughed hollowly. “You’ve been here long enough to know better, Juhrnus. With the Lady’s leaving, the ahalad-kaaslane no longer have the means to enforce what we say. And the nobility know it only too well. We have had to change the way we work in order to protect Kodu Riik. We have organized a council to correlate information, to send ahalad-kaaslane where they are most needed, to organize ourselves efficiently and to greatest effect. If the Lady won’t tell us what to do, we must plan for ourselves.”

  Juhrnus stopped his pacing and turned to stare, hands dangling at his side. “What? Since when?”

  “For a while.” When Juhrnus only continued to stare, Sodur said, “since we returned from Patverseme.”

  “And you never told us.” Juhrnus glanced at Reisil. She shook her head. “Are we the only ones?”

  “Yes.”

  Reisil slumped in her seat. Said out loud and so baldly, it was like a fist in her gut. It shouldn’t have been shocking. It was only reasonable after Sodur had gone to so much trouble to make everyone despise and distrust her. Of course they wouldn’t want her to know anything that would help her plot against Kodu Riik. And Juhrnus, he was her friend. He wouldn’t have kept secrets from her. But knowing it and hearing it were two different things.

  “Why?” Juhrnus pressed.

  Sodur glanced at Reisil. “It was deemed prudent.”

  “They think I’m a traitor, after all. I’d be a worm in their apple, and you too. Bad judgment to be friends with a known traitor,” Reisil said.

  “So what changed? Why tell us now?” Juhrnus leaned over his chair, gripping the back with white-knuckled fingers.

  “We all must make difficult choices. We all pick our allegiances. And I—I have come to wonder whether the decisions the ahalad-kaaslane council has made are the best for Kodu Riik. Call it hedging my bets if you’d like, but I have grave doubts that the path we have chosen is the correct one. Not if it excludes you and Reisil.”

  Reisil snorted. “Now you wonder?”

  For long moments Sodur did not answer, did not look up from where his fingers smoothed over the rough grain of the table. The wind blustered, and the door and windows shuddered.

  “So, the nokulas were allowed to spread and now have begun to move down from the mountains, thanks no doubt to the hard winter and the drought,” Reisil said at last, returning them to the subject. “And what, one just wandered into Koduteel?”

  “Would that it had. No, this nokula was . . . born . . . in Koduteel.” He ignored Reisil’s indrawn breath and Juhrnus’s expletive. “He used to be human. He’s—” Sodur’s lips tightened. “I don’t know him anymore. And it’s not just his body—his mind is gone too.”

  Reisil’s fingers tr
aced a whorl on the table and Juhrnus came to sit, his face blank with shock. “The nokulas were men?” she said.

  “And women, children, maybe animals too—I can’t begin to guess.”

  “How?”

  “Magic. Has to be.”

  Understanding arrived like a key clicking in a lock. The secrecy, the politics, the entire last year began to make sickening sense. “Iisand Samir,” Reisil breathed.

  Sodur’s head jerked around, his gaze like a burning brand. He nodded reluctantly.

  “So it’s not grief over the Mesilasema’s death that has kept him locked away. Is he the only one?”

  Sodur shrugged. “So far.”

  Reisil’s brows lifted skeptically.

  Sodur flushed. “He’s the only one I am aware of.”

  “And you’ve kept it from everyone. What about his family?”

  “We moved the three youngest out of the city. They’re too young to ask questions. But Aare and Emelovi refuse to go. We’ve kept them away from their father, but it’s not been easy.”

  “We?”

  He scratched behind one ear. “That’s not something I can say. I’m breaking faith in telling you this now.”

  “Breaking faith? I’d think you were getting good at it by now. Why bother telling us at all?” Bitterness leached into her voice.

  Sodur had picked up his spoon and was turning it over in his hands. He dropped it back into his bowl and shoved the dish away. “There are things that we need you to do. Our enemies have caught scent of our weaknesses and have begun to position themselves. Young Kebonsat’s arrival to pay court to the Iisand’s eldest daughter is certainly no coincidence.”

  Hearing Kebonsat’s name, Reisil flinched. She jumped up and fetched crockery cups and the hot currant-and-lemon brew. Tears burned in her eyes, and she willed them away. She knew, had always known, that there was no future for her and Kebonsat.

  “So what do you want from us?” Juhrnus asked at last.

  “The Scallacians,” Reisil answered for Sodur.

  “You know?” Sodur looked worried, as if the knowledge might be common gossip. Reisil bit her tongue to keep from snapping at him. It wasn’t up to her to keep his secrets after all. Finally she said in a brittle tone, “Saljane saw the ship coming through the Straits of Piiton. I couldn’t imagine why they were coming. But you sent for them; you’re going to ask the sorcerers for help.”

  “There’s no doubt it’s a risk. This may shatter any vestiges of trust we still have in the court. The sorcerers could very well turn on us and do to Koduteel what the wizards did to Mysane Kosk. Which is why we need you close by.”

  Reisil began to shake her head, and Sodur forestalled her. “I know you want to go find the wizards, but at the moment, the Scallacian sorcerers are more dangerous to Kodu Riik. Just knowing how you broke the wizards’ circle in Patverseme will make them cautious. Who knows—maybe you can learn something about the plague from them.”

  Reisil searched his face. “What else? You’re still not telling us everything.”

  Sodur stroked Lume’s head, the silver lynx leaning into his leg. “If what we’ve learned is correct, then the plague and the nokulas both are spawning in Mysane Kosk. And that means the wizards aren’t going to help. They want us dead. And don’t think they won’t be ready for you this time. If you put yourself in their hands, chances are you won’t come back.”

  Chapter 15

  Reisil wrapped up the leftover bread, head aching, eyes dry and burning. Her legs and arms felt unwieldy, as if they belonged to someone else.

  Juhrnus and Sodur stood over the unconscious Metyein, Juhrnus standing stiffly apart from the older man. Reisil knew exactly how he felt. So many times she had wanted to claw at Sodur and kick and scream, just to make him know how hard she felt his betrayal. Only physical distance kept her from giving in to her rage.

  “When do you want to move him?” Juhrnus asked.

  Sodur’s expression was somber. Reisil could read his intent as if he’d spoken it aloud.

  “No,” she said, coming to stand protectively at Metyein’s shoulder. “I won’t let you undo what I have done. How can you even think it?”

  “And when he tells his father? Or worse—what if he overheard us? Damned foolish—” He scrubbed his fingers over his scalp. “We’ve got to be careful. This can’t get out. None of it. His life isn’t worth the safety of Kodu Riik,” Sodur said.

  “It is to me.”

  “Need we even worry?” Jurhnus asked. “Is he even awake?”

  Reisil stared at Sodur. He gave a quick nod, and she dropped her hand to Metyein’s chest, calling up her magic. It flowed into him, and instantly she knew he was awake, though for how long, she couldn’t guess. She pressed her hand down warningly, hoping he was coherent enough to understand his danger.

  “You may be assured,” she said. “He’s lost a lot of blood. When he does come to, he’s going to be confused, delirious even. I doubt he’ll remember anything after he was wounded.”

  Sodur’s shoulders dropped. “Good. Then Juhrnus and I will take him home now.”

  Reisil stood aside as they pulled back the blankets.

  “Should we do something about the blood? Someone might ask questions,” Juhrnus said.

  “We’ll scavenge something,” Sodur said. He glanced up at the ceiling. “The wind’s letting up. Better hurry.”

  Juhrnus hoisted the limp man over his shoulder, having already tucked Esper into his chest sling.

  Sodur followed, pausing to look back at Reisil. “Tomorrow you should move into the palace. Before the sorcerers arrive. I’ve made the arrangements. And congratulations. Today you made great strides with your powers.”

  Reisil shut the door behind him harder than necessary. Her head swam, and she crossed to her bed, yanking off her boots as she went. She slid into the warm pocket made by the Lord Marshal’s son, uncaring of the blood staining the blankets. In moments she fell asleep, her dreams haunted by snarling monsters with human faces and the desolate cries of plague victims.

  Metyein forced his body to remain slack as he was upended over Juhrnus’s shoulder. He hardly felt the cold as they stepped onto the parapet, snow kissing the back of his exposed neck.

  “What idiot put steps on the outside of this thrice-damned place,” Juhrnus grumbled. Sodur didn’t answer, setting a steadying hand on Metyein’s back. Metyein concentrated on remaining limp, though every muscle in his body fought to clench as Juhrnus skidded and slipped. At last they arrived safely at the bottom.

  “How do you want to get him into town? I already returned the cart I borrowed,” Juhrnus said.

  “Can you get him to the gates? We’ll find a horse or cart there.”

  “Let’s go.”

  The road was no less slick than the lighthouse stairs, and twice Juhrnus fell to his knees, despite Sodur’s steadying grip. At the gate, a guard opened the inset pedestrian entrance.

  “He had a bit of a blow in the Fringes,” Sodur explained in a disgusted voice. “Juiced himself. His father sent us to retrieve him.” He made a show of spitting. “Lad ought to know better.”

  “Fringes is no place for a cup and a wench,” the guard said. “Boy ought to take his urges to Rotten Row. Plenty willing women and good ale as well.”

  “Aye and that’s the Lady’s own truth. He’s spoiled though, won’t be told. Has to find out for himself. If not for the weather and his father, I’d let him wake up in the morning with his prick rotted off.”

  The guard chuckled. Juhrnus staggered through the gate after Sodur and up a narrow street. Sodur halted him outside a barbershop.

  “Wait here. I’ll see what I can find,” Sodur said.

  Metyein heard Sodur’s footsteps scuffle away, and then Juhrnus dropped him onto a wooden bench. Metyein’s breath left him in a gust, and he bit his tongue as his elbow banged against a wall. Cold and damp seeped up through his clothing as the snow on the seat began to melt.

  “Sorry about that,” Ju
hrnus muttered. “You still alive?”

  Metyein held still, trying to keep his breathing even. Juhrnus pushed Metyein’s head aside and perched on the arm of the bench.

  “Give it up. You’ve been doing a pretty good job pretending to be a corpse, but you aren’t fooling me. Don’t worry. I won’t tell Sodur.” Metyein sympathized with the bitterness he heard in Juhrnus’s voice. He felt the same harshness for his father.

  “I’m alive,” he answered, opening his eyes. “Barely. Thanks to your Reisiltark. She—” He broke off, his throat closing. “I don’t understand how. . . .”

  “Consider yourself lucky, and don’t think too hard about it. Just thank the Lady, thank Reisil, and don’t forget what she did for you.”

  “I won’t. And I won’t tell what I heard either.”

  Juhrnus looked up the street. There was a sound of rattling wheels. He looked back down at Metyein, his face set. “They aren’t my secrets. You do what you want with them.

  Now shut your eyes.”

  Obediently Metyein closed his eyes and let himself go limp. The wheels rumbled up and stopped.

  “Where did you find that?”

  “Masonry warehouse. If it can carry stone, it can carry him.”

  “What about clothes?”

  Metyein heard the rustle of cloth.

  “Not up to his usual standards.”

  “These don’t have a lot of laces or buttons. And I don’t care what questions he has to answer about what he’s wearing so long as no one links him to Reisil,” Sodur said. “Let’s load him up. We’ll find a less exposed place to change him on the way. I found this too. Should keep anyone from asking questions.”

  Hands grasped Metyein, pulling him up by the shoulders and lifting him at the legs. He found himself heaped into a small cart—a wheelbarrow, he realized, his nose itching as he inhaled rock dust. He swallowed the sneeze, his eyes watering. Sodur and Juhrnus prodded at him, shoving him inside the rough box and then spread a foul-smelling blanket over him. It stank of cat piss, rancid meat and lamp oil.