"Larion Kirasson." I gave them a warrior's salute with my dagger but didn't sheath it until Iriana put away her sword.
"I apologize for ripping your clothes," she said stiffly. "I'll pay to have them mended."
That was as much apology as I was going to get, I reckoned, at least from her. She was highborn, by the look of her, and used to dealing with a scuzzy sell-sword like me only as a servant.
"Lar! You're bleeding!" Anya said with concern. "Get those breeches off and I'll Heal it for you."
"I knew it! It was all a plot to get me out of my clothes again!" I said loudly to the empty sky.
The other two just scowled when Anya giggled again. "Lar, you know perfectly well that I wouldn't have done it the last time if I hadn't had one too many mugs of that innkeeper's ale and you hadn't made that silly bet. Have I ever dragged you off to bed before?"
"We-ell—no. But not for lack of trying on my part." I sat gingerly down and pulled off my boots. The breeches followed, somewhat more carefully. The cut wasn't deep enough to be crippling but it was starting to sting like hell, besides leaking blood all over.
While I was stripping Anya rummaged through one of her saddlebags and brought out a small leather packet. She knelt down beside me and held out the packet in both hands, as if presenting it to me. She'd Healed me before, so I knew to put out my own hand and cover it. A flash of green light burst through our fingers, and Anya smiled and opened the packet. All the while she was crooning a soft wordless chant.
The humming became words as she sprinkled a pinch of bluish-green dust over the wound. Then she put her hands on my thigh. Warmth seeped from them and the wound itself grew uncomfortably hot. Anya nodded as if pleased and began to stroke the air over it, not quite touching it.
I still don't know how earthwitches do it. With every stroke the long gash closed just a little, first with a thick crusty red line like a scab, then a thinner pink one like a new scar.
Both of us sighed with relief when it was over.
"Just don't put too much strain on it for the next couple of days, or it could split open a little," Anya said briskly, all professional now.
"Can I get it wet?" I asked. "I want a bath, after all this."
"That shouldn't be any problem."
"Care to help?"
She aimed a mock blow at my head. "Get along with you. I'll watch your stew for you so it'll be ready by the time you're finished."
I heard a soft murmur of women's voices as I stood on the creekbank and finished stripping. They were quizzing Anya about me, I think. The only thing I could make out, "...cocky little bastard..." I ignored.
After all, it was all true. 'Cocky', yes. I have reason to be. I'm one of the best in the kingdom with a sword, and I'm the best when it comes to unarmed fighting. 'Little' I'm not so proud to admit to, but the gods decided that Lar was going to be just a hand taller than five feet, and that was that.
And 'bastard' is true enough too, as if you couldn't tell already from my name. I use 'Kirasson' out of choice, because I'm damned proud of the tough woman my mother is. I wouldn't use my father's name even if I knew it, but Mother didn't know herself whose seed sired me. Gang-rapists, even those disguised as priests, rarely introduce themselves.
For the rest—well, I've known Anya for years. If she wanted to tell them the rest of my story, how we met and all that, she was welcome to. Just as long as she left out the incriminating details.
The water was warmer than it looked. I didn't hurry bathing, and even took time to wash the grit out of my hair. The women may have gotten an eyeful, but so what? I very much doubted that any of them were completely unfamiliar with a man's body.
Maybe that was why the other two thawed out a little over supper. I shared my rabbit stew with them; they shared bread and cheese and new apples. And their news.
It wasn't good. The 'priests' of the demon-god Velichkor had crawled out from under their rocks, declared that it was the sacrificial year again, and proceeded to kidnap any young woman who caught their fancy.
Some were chosen at the slave-markets and their masters gladly 'donated' them to the god. Others were taken out of the marketplaces or off city streets and their families were helpless to protest.
Some had tried, I heard, a generation ago when those who conquered our lands had first installed Velichkor as the only 'True and Living God.' The 'god' had decreed that any girl his priests chose was immediately sanctified to him, and given his priests the power to kill any who 'blasphemed' by objecting. Entire families had died horribly, consumed alive by fire that no water could douse.
But the ones that made me want to vomit were those that freely offered their daughters to Velichkor, seeking to gain his favor. I will never understand why some people willingly follow those that they know are evil.
Anyhow, that was why Anya and her party were on the road, heading for Korovor. Anya explained while Iriana just sat staring grimly at the fire.
"Those—those—I don't know words bad enough to describe them, Lar! Those priests stole Iriana's daughter Elftheria. She was one of the first ones they grabbed. They just rode up to her in the marketplace, grabbed her, and threw her into a closed wagon."
"We're going to get her back," Kalia said, her face as grim as Iriana's.
"Get her back? Anya, are you crazy? Maybe when they've done with her, if she lives. Some of them do. What the bloody devil do you think you can do, just walk into the temple, spit in Velichkor's face, and walk out again with the girl?"
"Elfi's rescue is only part of it, Lar. We have a plan, worked out with all the senior earthwitches of the Sisterhood, to defeat Velichkor. Whatever he is, demon or sorcerer or whatever, he's not a god, not an immortal. After the last sacrificial year we sent a supplicant to the oracle at the Mother's shrine, clear down in Rakoma. And the message came back, 'The False One's downfall will come at the hands of one who is not what he seems.' We've been working for years on this."
"We have to try," Kalia growled. "Wouldn't you try, if it were your cousin? Wouldn't it be worth it, if we can eliminate this scum?"
"I never should have let her leave the house," Iriana muttered. "I didn't know, I just didn't know that the time was so close for choosing the sacrifices."
"It wasn't your fault," Anya said soothingly. "You know they keep it secret, so people won't hide their girls."
"But Elfi's not even thirteen..." Her breath caught in a harsh ragged sob, deep in her throat. Anya put her arms around her and began to hum softly. After a moment Kalia knelt down by them and clasped her aunt's hands.
I just kept my mouth shut after that. They didn't need to tell me what happened to those poor girls. I knew—my mother had been one of them.
* * * *
Anya came out of their tent and sat wearily down by the fire. "She's finally asleep," she said unnecessarily. "You can go on to bed. I'll take the first watch."
"In a little bit," I answered. "Got to finish this first."
She watched me as I yanked a comb through my hair. "Lar, you never told me your hair was curly. I know women who would kill for long honey-blond curls like those."
I swiped a line from the old granny-tale and added my best leer. "'The better to seduce you with, my dear.'"
Anya's one of the few people I let get away with teasing me, and she takes every advantage of it. She waved her eyelashes at me and cooed, "Oooo, yes, if it wasn't for the beard and mustache, you'd make a very pretty girl."
"Don't forget my big blue eyes, too," I said sourly. She was getting a little too close to the truth there, and I took enough hassles over my looks as a boy. If it weren't that short hair is the mark of a peasant, I'd chop this hair all off short in a heartbeat. As it is, I keep it back in a warrior's braid and try to ignore it.
Her face abruptly sobered. She took a deep breath and asked, "Lar? Will you help us?"
I should have seen that coming. "Why?" I finally countered. "I'm sorry for the girl, but she's no kin to me. Why should I risk my hide for h
er?"
"A lot of reasons. Friendship. Payment of old debts. Revenge, maybe. And...because of what you are."
The comb shattered as my fist tightened on it. "You told them?"
"No. I gave you my oath that I wouldn't, Larion Kirasson. I've never told anybody. I never will."
"I told you no sell-sword would do it, Anya," Kalia's bitter voice said from the darkness. "He'd make more money hiring out to them!"
That got me more angry than I've been in years. "Aye, sell-sword I am, Kalia Bransdaughter. But I'm no cringing, crawling slave to work for the scum that call themselves our masters!"
"Then do something to help free our land from their yoke!" Kalia hissed.
"And what payment does this sell-sword get out of it? Patriotism doesn't put food in my family's bellies!"
"Kalia! Lar! Nothing will be solved by the two of you bickering like children. Lar, will you sleep on it, at least, and give me your answer in the morning?"
I do owe Anya a debt. She deserved at least what she asked. "All right. I'll think about it."
* * * *
I don't think any of us slept very well. It was just barely dawn and I was on watch when I heard someone stirring in their tent. Anya bolted out, half-dressed, and headed for the creekbank. She disappeared behind a screen of bushes and noises started to come from that direction that sounded like the morning after a three-day drinking party.
What else could I do? She was my friend, and she was sick. I went after her.
"Lar. Go. Away!" she gasped through the dry heaves.
"No. Here, drink this. Give your belly something to be sick with, stupid, and it will stop."
Anya clamped her jaw shut and glared at me, then grabbed my water flask and took two swallows. It all came back up immediately, of course, but I think it did help. She didn't puke any more after that.
"What did you do, eat something that might have been bad?" I asked. "Is anybody else sick?"
"No," she answered sourly. "Don't ask a Healer diagnostic questions, Lar. I know what's wrong with me."
"Oh. You want to enlighten this poor iggernant sell-sword? Is it catching?"
"No. At least, you can't catch it from me, even if you gave it to me in the first place."
That was when I began to catch on. If it was something she had caught from me, it couldn't have been since just last night. And I wasn't sick, anyway. She had to have caught it two months ago....
"Anya? Are you...?"
"In a delicate condition? Carrying? With child? Pregnant? Take your choice, Lar. The answer is yes."
I did not ask the logical next question. She'd come to my bed virgin, though I hadn't known that until afterward, when I saw the blood on her thighs. That was my child in her belly.
And that put a whole different light on the help she had asked for last night. Would you let a woman who was carrying your child walk alone into danger?
"You asked me to sleep on a question last night, Anya. This morning the answer is 'yes'."
Gods above and below, I will never understand women! Her face clouded over and she started to cry. "I didn't want you to know!" she wailed. "You can't just because I'm..."
"Being very silly," Kalia's dry voice said behind me.
Iriana, only a step or two behind her, agreed. "I don't know why you insisted he was the person we needed, but if he's said yes, there's nothing to cry about."
"Yes, there is!" Anya said mutinously.
Kalia ignored her. "It's time to tell your loving kin why you want this man, Anya. And it had better be for something other than his looks, or how good he is in bed."
"His looks are a big part of it," she said sulkily. "Lar? May I tell them?"
"First you tell me what it is you want me to do."
"I think you are the one of the prophecy. I want to plant you as one of the sacrifices. After that...well, it will depend on your trust in me, your willingness to link magically with me. The baby is a bond between us, the best link we could possibly have."
"Plant him as a sacrifice? Anya, that's insane!" Kalia cried. "You can't beglamour him to look like a young girl, they'll see right through that. And an ordinary disguise—what will the priests say when they find out that one of their sacrifices needs to shave in the morning?"
"He won't need to. Lar, please, tell them!"
"They won't believe me. Who would? Let's see, the moon's five days from full—I can force Change if I have to, and show them."
It was almost worth it to see their outraged faces when I stood up, stripped off my shirt, and dropped my breeches. Before they could get up enough breath to protest, I Changed.
Change doesn't hurt, not really, not even when my bone structure alters. It just itches like hell when my scars smooth over, replaced by soft flawless skin. I only wish the rest of it wasn't so...unsettling. Bad enough that I lose beard and body-hair like a dog shedding its winter fur, but it gives me cold chills every time my male parts wither and pull themselves back up into my body. The breasts that sprout on my chest don't make up for it.
Even my center of gravity changes when my hips broaden and my shoulders get narrower. That's the worst part of it, I think. I move differently, and can't even swing my own sword properly. It's just too heavy for delicate female wrists, and of course I'm not female long enough (thank the gods!) to do anything about strengthening them.
"Well, Kalia," I asked sweetly. "Will I pass?"
"Blessed Holy Mother! I—you—but shape-changers are only in stories!"
"Don't I wish! Then I wouldn't have to hide the three days of the month that I can't control it."
"Every woman has to cope with 'that time of the month,' Lar," Anya smirked. "Yours is just a little different, that's all."
"Bite your tongue, wench. This curse is bad enough without that one too."
* * * *
After I Changed back, we broke camp and continued heading for Korovor. As we rode, Anya worked out a modification of the plans that they had already made to infiltrate the temple. Somehow Velichkor had heard of the prophecy, too, and no longer trusted men except his own sworn priests. For the last ten years all his personal guard had been women. What he didn't know was that many of them were members of the Sisterhood, spelled to forget it and the battleplan until someone released them with the right magic.
That someone was going to be Anya. 'Bounty-hunter' Kalia was going to bring her in as a prisoner, one of the outlawed earthwitches. As her reward, Kalia would ask to join Velichkor's Guard. She knew the release words, too, though she had no talent for magic.
And me? Iriana would present me as one of the voluntary 'offerings.' If Anya were imprisoned, unable to get near Velichkor, she could work through me. Or if I was lucky, I could kill him myself for what he had done to my mother. I didn't like it, not any of it, but I couldn't see any way to make it work better.
I didn't like it, either, that evening, when Anya refused to marry me beforehand. "You can 'give our child a name' afterwards," she said firmly. "She'll wait. This can't. If we don't bring down Velichkor now, we'll never have a second chance."
"She?" My child was a daughter?
Anya snuggled up close, kissed me, and put my hand on her belly. "Introduce yourself to your father, little one," she whispered.
At first there was nothing. It was too soon to feel the child kicking, and I wondered what Anya meant. Then something that was not words, not emotions, but something of both, washed over me. There was pleasure there, and a...a bonding that was blood calling to blood. She was mine and I was hers. I know, I know, it sounds stupid and sloppy and sentimental, but it was there all the same.
* * * *
We reached Korovor late the next afternoon. At the gates I had to watch indifferently and do nothing as Kalia shoved her bound and blindfolded 'prisoner' ahead of her and demanded to see the Head Priest for her reward. The gate-guards directed her to the Palace, and they disappeared among the crowds. Iriana and I were left alone to hunt for an inn and a market to buy me some girl
's clothes.
I didn't have to force Change as hard the morning after that. By evening, when the almost-full moon rose, I would have no choice in the matter. After I dressed in the girl's clothes (how do women stand having skirts flap around their legs all the time?) we made our own way to the Holy Palace.
There we joined a line of families waiting to give their daughters to Velichkor. I kept my head down as befits a modest young maiden. All too soon we reached the head of the line and were admitted to the temple courtyard.
"Name please," a priest asked without taking his eyes from his tablets. He sounded bored. No doubt it was more exciting to go out kidnapping girls than to sit here waiting for them to be brought to him.
"Iriana Lyseksdaughter. I—please, this isn't a usual offering. You took my daughter Elftheria. Her cousin Lara here has volunteered to take her place."
"Indeed. We're very choosy, you know. You can't fob off just any homely unmarriageable cow of a girl onto us." He raised his head then, and I saw more than a spark of interest in his eyes. In fact, his jaw dropped briefly. "But this one! If her body matches her face, yes, we'll take her!"
"Then you'll give me back my Elfi?" Iriana asked eagerly.
The priest ignored her. He was too busy stripping me naked. I expect he thought that I was trembling out of embarrassment, but I was trying to keep from strangling him right then and there. "Ooohhh, yessss," he whispered to himself. "Velichkor Himself will want you, my beauty." His hand strayed to places he probably wasn't authorized to fondle, as the sound of someone clearing her throat caused him to jerk back.
"Here, take this girl to Master Kopos," he said firmly as he beckoned to a guard. A hand closed on my upper arm to shove me away down the corridor. I heard Iriana's voice say, "But my daughter—" and the priest's laughter cut her off.
"The girl may volunteer if she chooses, but we make no bargains. You may leave now, woman."
If she made any further protests, I didn't hear them. A heavy door closed behind us; the guard behind me dropped my arm and began to curse softly in Kalia's voice. So, that part of the plan had worked as well.
"Well, I didn't think they'd swap," I whispered. "Where's Anya?"
Marion Zimmer Bradley's Sword and Sorceress XXII Page 18