The Sworn

by Gail Z. Martin

  “Why should Kolin trust me? I don’t think he even likes me. I got rescued by accident.”

  Elsbet managed a sad smile. “I’ll tell you what you need to say. He’ll believe.”

  Aidane stared back at the group around the fire. Her welcome among Kolin’s lieutenants had been grudging at best. But it had been Kolin who insisted that she be rescued along with the vayash moru and vyrkin, and it had been Kolin who had stood up to Jolie on her behalf. “I offered to pay him for rescuing me, and it made him angry,” she said softly. “If he would accept that I carry your spirit, perhaps I can offer him payment that he would accept.”

  “Thank you, m’lady. Thank you.”

  Aidane wasn’t at all sure that it would go as smoothly as Elsbet supposed. But she nodded. “Kolin will go up to the crypt a few candlemarks before dawn. Meet me here and we’ll… join. Then I’ll let you guide me from there.”

  “As you wish, m’lady. I’ll be waiting.”

  Aidane was deep in thought as she made her way back to camp. “There you are!” Cefra waved her over to a place on the log near the fire. “I thought you might get eaten by wolves. Didn’t anyone tell you it’s not healthy to wander alone at night?”

  Aidane gave Cefra a reassuring smile that did not reach her eyes. “Just needed to clear my head.”

  Cefra pressed a flask into Aidane’s hand. Even before she lifted it to her lips, Aidane could smell that it was river rum. “This’ll clear your head just fine. We were just listening to Ed tell us his stories.” She nodded toward the peddler, who gave a broad smile, and Aidane guessed that Ed had not only provided the rum but had a good bit of it himself.

  “I was just tellin’ the ladies about the time I took my wagon down to Valiquet, to the palace city,” Ed said. He held his rum well, so that it gave just a slight slur to his words. Ed had the narrow, angular features of a Dhasson native, but his accent made Aidane suspect that he spent most of his time trading along the river, and that he probably spoke the river patois like a native.

  “I did a good business in the city, fixing jewelry and trading new pots and pans and the like with the innkeepers and taverns.” He gave a broad wink. “But the service that was most requested was repairing fidelity rings. You know what those are?” When his listeners shook their heads, Ed’s smile broadened. “Well, now. Among the well-to-do in Valiquet, these fidelity rings were quite popular. They come apart like a puzzle, and they’re the Crone’s own to put right again. Men’ll give them to their wives without tellin’ the secret of how the puzzle’s done. Then if she strays and takes off her ring, it falls apart and odds are that she won’t be able to put it right. So he’ll know she’s been cattin’ around.”

  Ed stretched. “Now fittin’ pieces together is my specialty. I fix all kinds of things. So it turns out I have a talent for figuring out these fidelity rings, even though some of them are damned difficult.” He beamed with false modesty. “Just a gift, I guess. Anyhow, after I’d done one or two, word got out among the ladyfolk, and every night, I’d have a couple of well-born ladies come looking for me ’round back of the tavern. I’d fix their rings, and they’d pay me well.” He gave another wink. “Some even paid coin, if you take my meaning.” The girls laughed at his joke, but Aidane’s thoughts remained on Elsbet’s tale.

  “What happened?” Cefra asked, leaning forward.

  Ed shrugged. “What do you think? Eventually, one of the husbands found out, and he came back with his friends. Nearly busted up the tavern, and I barely got down the road with my wagon in time. If they’d ridden me down on horseback, I might not have escaped, but I heard tell that the innkeeper settled them down by giving them free ale and food, and I managed to escape with my skin.” He crossed his arms. “And they say a peddler’s life is dull.”

  “What’s the strangest thing that’s ever happened to you?” It was Cefra asking, and Aidane wasn’t sure whether her new friend was trying to flirt with Ed or just looking for a diversion.

  Ed’s eyes grew dark. “They say that truth is stranger than the wildest tale. ’Tis true, I fear. There’s a caravan that passes through Dhasson every year. Now, lots of caravans pass through Dhasson, that’s true. But this caravan wasn’t as big as the one Maynard Linton runs. This was a nice size, with all kinds of traveling merchants, musicians, acrobats, jugglers, and fools. Of course, there was plenty of need for a peddler, and so I made it my business to set my meanderings so that I would cross their path. Lots of tin to mend, ale to drink, and sights to see.

  “Well and good until a few months ago. They were going to make a loop through southern Margolan, and I told them that was a bad idea. Told them there was plague afoot down there. But they didn’t listen.” Ed shook his head. “I knew their route, and I meant to meet up with them again. That’s when I got the scare of my life.”

  Cefra’s eyes were wide, and even Aidane leaned forward to catch the tale. “What happened?” Cefra asked.

  “I could tell before I ever got within shouting distance that there was something wrong,” Ed said. “People didn’t seem to be moving right. Jerkylike, as if they were stumbling. There were tents up, sort of, but not proper tents, as if a blind man who had never seen a tent tried to assemble one. I could hear music, too. Always liked their musicians. But this time, everything was off-key, slow. Sent a chill down my back. And the smell! I thought I’d come upon a charnel house in midsummer. Then I saw that there was a pile of dead animals to the side of the road.” He shook his head. “Those were the wild beasts the caravan used to charge people coin to see. Animals from all over the Winter Kingdoms, and some from beyond.” His expression was sorrowful. “Not only were they dead, but some of them”—he swallowed before he could continue—“some of them had been chewed on.”

  A gasp went up from Ed’s listeners. Aidane looked hard at him, trying to tell whether he was concocting the tale, but his distress seemed genuine. “I turned around to run, and there was Venn. Venn was one of the guards I was friendliest with. Drank many a pint of ale with him, out behind the tents. Well, there stands Venn, or what was left of him, Goddess rest his soul. Lady true! I would have taken him for a corpse if he hadn’t been moving, although it was more shambling than walking. His nose was eaten off, and his eyes were sunken back in his head. He was covered with pox sores, and his skin was yellowish-white. But his eyes. By the Whore! His eyes were mad. He made a grunting noise and started after me, and I ran for all I was worth.”

  “What happened to them?” Aidane couldn’t help asking.

  “Ashtenerath,” one of the girls whispered, the word like a curse. Ed nodded.

  “That’s the Lady’s truth. Not dead, not really living, and nothing but rage in his eyes. Corpses that don’t know enough to lie down and die, that don’t have the peace of the dead.” Ed’s eyes were wide with fear. “But there’s worse. I’ve seen them twice since.” Ed glanced over his shoulder at the horizon, and the fear in his eyes was real. “Saw them traveling all in a line, like they used to, only it was a caravan of the damned. Horses foaming at the mouths, bones jutting out everywhere, mad with fear. Musicians playing songs from the Abyss, songs for the dead. Even their wagons looked like they were rotting away. I guess they’ll keep on going until they drop, one by one, in their tracks, or just rot into pieces.” He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. “Dark Lady take my soul! I don’t ever want to see that sight again!”

  Aidane turned to look for Kolin. She spotted him with Zhan and Varren. He moved to sit near Astir and Jolie. Two of the vayash moru who had been rescued from the Nargi stood guard, and Aidane was sure that the now-healed vyrkin were also prowling the woods, both to bring down game for their dinner and to assure that the camp would not be disturbed.

  Aidane watched Kolin in the firelight. His blond hair was caught back in a queue. Now that she had a chance to study his features, she could see the Dhassonian bloodlines, with perhaps some Margolan heritage as well. He was dressed plainly, as they all were, to avoid attracting the atte
ntion of robbers, but even so, Kolin moved with assurance. She had no doubt that in life, Kolin had been highborn, even if his family had not been truly wealthy. From what Aidane had overheard, it was clear that, as a vayash moru, Kolin had attained a position of responsibility and respect among the undead and the vyrkin. Even Astir and Jolie deferred to him, though Jolie never gave ground without a fight.

  Kolin seemed to sense that someone was watching him, and he turned. For just an instant, his eyes met Aidane’s. He was curious, and distrustful. Aidane hurried to look away.

  He knows what you are, the ghost murmured so that only Aidane could hear. Perhaps it’s crossed his mind that you could bring me to him, if only for this night. Even now, he’s not so distant as he pretends.

  Aidane looked down at her hands. She thought she could feel Kolin’s gaze, even though she told herself she was imagining it. She did her best to shut out the sound of Ed’s next story and strained to hear what Kolin and the others were saying.

  “—nights are getting colder,” Jolie said. “We’re going north. We won’t be able to sleep outside for too much longer.”

  “We have safe houses,” Kolin replied.

  “What of the new ones?” Astir asked. “The minstrels and the peddler. They’re more than we expected.”

  Kolin glanced toward the group by the fire and shrugged. The musicians kept on playing, oblivious to the fact that their future was being discussed. “They’re good cover. More eyes to keep watch, and a few more men to travel with, make it a little less obvious that we’re moving the residents of a whorehouse to safety,” he said, but Aidane could hear humor in his voice and knew Kolin was gently baiting Jolie.

  Jolie sniffed. “You’re just afraid that if word got out, we’d have so much business we wouldn’t reach Dark Haven till winter. We’re the most exciting thing that’s passed this way, I wager.”

  Aidane heard Astir’s rich, tenor laughter. “Give it up, Kolin. You know you can’t win an argument with Jolie. You’re lucky she agreed to not dress her little peacocks in all their finery, or we’d have a line of patrons following us every step of the way!”

  “It’s not the patrons that worry me; it’s the Black Robes,” Kolin said. “In Nargi, they seemed to single out whores to kidnap. There’s more than one reason I’d like to travel without attracting attention.”

  “Do you think that’s why the Nargi took Aidane?” It was Zhan speaking, and Aidane tensed, remembering that Kolin’s lieutenant had not been happy about the order to bring her with them.

  “Could be.” Kolin paused, and Aidane was afraid to look up, for fear he was looking her way. “Though it might be as she said, that she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He hesitated. “What do you make of her?” Aidane guessed that Kolin had turned to Jolie, and she tensed, fearing Jolie’s reply.

  “Don’t know yet. She doesn’t seem too taken with herself. That’s unusual for a serroquette. I’d like to see her with the spirit on her, see if her ‘gift’ is real.”

  “It was real enough for the men we ambushed,” Kolin replied. “The dead lovers got their revenge.” His voice was flat, and it was impossible for Aidane to guess what Kolin was thinking.

  After that, the talk among Kolin and the others turned back to planning the route ahead, and Aidane’s attention returned to Ed the peddler’s next story just as the pudgy, blond man reached the punch line. Aidane joined in the group’s laughter, even though she hadn’t heard a word of the story. Knowing what she had promised Elsbet’s ghost, Aidane fidgeted until it was time to go to bed. She helped the other girls forage for pine boughs and make their bedrolls as comfortable as possible, with a wary glance skyward to see whether rain would wake them. Tonight, the sky was clear and the moon was bright.

  Kolin and the vayash moru headed up the path toward the ruins of the house on the hill. The vyrkin, some as wolves and others in human form, stayed to guard the mortals. Ed eyed the vyrkin warily, but if he had misgivings, he said nothing. The four musicians packed up their instruments. The musicians were as odd a bunch as the rest of them, Aidane thought. Their outfits might have been fine enough to play in better taverns once, but now they were stained and torn from travel.

  There were three men and a portly woman. One of the men seemed to belong with the woman; they were older than the others and had the most skill on the dulcimer and drone. A thin young man with shaggy, dark hair and a half-grown beard played the flute with skill. The fourth man, who looked barely out of his teens, carried an hourglass-shaped drum with markings that looked like runes. Tattoos on his arms and hands mirrored the markings on his drum. He got a faraway look in his eyes as he drummed, and his fingers flew in complex rhythms that sometimes stretched his companions’ ability to keep up. The musicians were jovial company, but Aidane wondered what story they were hiding, and what details they preferred to keep to themselves.

  This night, the elder musician, the drone player, caught up to Ed before the peddler left the circle around the fire. “A word about that caravan you saw, if you please.”

  Ed looked at him suspiciously, but did not pull away. The four minstrels exchanged glances. “We also saw your caravan of the damned.” It was the older, portly musician who spoke. “My name’s Cal. We had just closed up after playing at an inn long past midnight. It was just past second bells. We heard something like music, strange and jumbled. We went to look for it.” Cal looked to the others, who nodded for him to go on.

  “You can ask my wife, Nezra,” he said with a tilt of his head toward the plump dulcimer player beside him. “We saw a caravan in the moonlight, outlined against the sky, shuffling and stumbling, just like you said. Some of them were groaning and moaning, and the horses whinnying in fear.” He shivered.

  “Bez over there, our drummer, and Thanal, the flute player, thought they’d be brave and get closer for a better look. Well, they got closer, all right. Almost had their arms ripped off when two of those… those… things came after them. Pulled their cloaks right off them. They didn’t follow too long when Bez and Thanal ran away, as if they forgot what they were following. We saw the things that chased Bez and Thanal go back to the group, and they all started up again. ’Twas the Crone’s own, if you ask me!”

  The musicians looked from one to the other. “We thought perhaps there was something wrong with the ale, or that Istra’s Fire was upon us, and we’d seen a vision. We haven’t spoken of it to a soul until now.”

  Ed nodded. “We’d best keep an eye out. Their old route takes them through these parts, and I’ve no desire to see them again.”

  Aidane dawdled by the fire, intentionally letting the others wander off to bed. “Are you going to sleep?” Cefra asked, with a note of admonishment in her voice.

  Aidane smiled. Cefra was the one among all her companions who was trying the hardest to reach out to her, and Aidane appreciated the gesture. “I’m not tired just yet,” Aidane said, and it was not entirely a falsehood. “I think I’ll watch the fire die down a bit.”

  Cefra looked at her as if she suspected more to the tale. “Just mind that you remember; not all the wolves out there belong to our group. It’d be a pity to be rescued just to get eaten.”

  Aidane chuckled. “I’ll remember that. Really, go on. I won’t be too long.”

  Cefra stretched. “I’ve had a good meal and enough river rum to take the chill off the night. I promise you, I’ll be asleep as soon as I lie down, so don’t trip over me and wake me!”

  “I promise.” Aidane watched Cefra go, and then settled down, hunching forward to watch the embers glow. Before too long, the camp was silent.

  We should go now. Elsbet’s voice held a note of excitement. Aidane pushed down her own uneasiness. Despite Elsbet’s assurances, Aidane was not certain about how Kolin would receive her “gift.” She rose, careful not to make noise, and she made her way toward the edge of the camp. If anyone saw her go, Aidane guessed that the two men on night watch assumed she had to relieve herself. No one called out to
her, and no one moved to follow.

  Inside the darkness of the forest, Aidane took a deep breath. She could sense Elsbet’s ghost nearby. Aidane closed her eyes and opened herself to the possession. Elsbet’s ghost slipped into her, and Aidane felt the familiar lurch as she gave over her body to the ghost’s control. Suddenly, the shadows seemed less dark and the forest less frightening. Aidane felt Elsbet’s excitement, which rose as they made their way through the forest. Elsbet knew the terrain, and she found a path that Aidane would have overlooked. It was long overgrown, as if no one living now bothered to visit the ruined house on the hill. Aidane prepared to lock herself in the corner of her mind where she hid during assignations, but Elsbet’s ghost kept chattering to her, telling her about how it was long ago, when Elsbet was alive and Kolin was newly dead.

  Both the wolves and the vyrkin seemed to give Aidane room. If the vyrkin wondered why one of their company was heading toward the crypt, something about her tonight kept them from coming closer. Elsbet knew the way, and she led Aidane through the underbrush. There was just enough moonlight for Aidane to see the path that had once led this way. They headed up the hill, and Aidane could barely make out the outlines of the foundation of a house on the hilltop. The upper structures were long gone, but the steps to the front door remained, as did portions of the lower walls. In its day, it must have been a large house, perhaps quite grand, Aidane mused.

  Over there. Elsbet directed Aidane’s attention toward the family burying ground. As was the custom in Dhasson, crypts were built to look like the manor house. They stood in front of a building that was a miniature version of an impressive home. The part of her consciousness that was still mortal became more and more uneasy as they neared the crypt. It was, Aidane guessed, a trick to turn bothersome mortals away from where the vayash moru took their shelter for the night. Elsbet was not deterred. Aidane scrambled to find her locked-away sanctuary in her mind as Elsbet opened the iron door to the crypt that had been her final home for over two hundred years.