Chasers of the Wind

by Alexey Pehov

  The abhorrent vessel was driving her mad. It was uncomfortable, clumsy, poorly controlled, and it smelled awful. Saliva was always dripping from its mouth to its chest. But she had already started working on the appearance of her disobedient puppet. Step by step, little by little, she changed the face, intertwined the muscles, filling them with power. She needed a tough vessel; she had no wish to ride a moronic gelding. Another two, three weeks and his own mother wouldn’t know this blimp. Typhoid would completely rebuild this body underneath her as she saw fit. The only thing she couldn’t do anything about was the chalky color of his eyes.

  The Healer’s magic had incinerated much of what she had. Her spark was not blazing, but smoldering, and she had to waste all her resources on watching over Pork. She couldn’t even think about any other displays of her Gift. Right now Typhoid could hardly light a candle, let alone raze the village to the ground. In one moment Typhoid had lost not only her body but also her powerful Gift. That which remained was only a pathetic grain of sand compared to her former might.

  She had become weak and defenseless. Any of her brothers or sisters could now dispatch her effortlessly. Even Mitifa, the most unskilled of the Octet.

  “What should I do?” she whispered, and Pork, who was sitting rigidly on the bed and staring dully at a single spot, flinched in fear and looked over his shoulder.

  Suddenly a warm wave surged up her spine. Typhoid frowned, not wanting to answer. It was Tal’ki. She was the only one of the Octet who radiated warmth. Alenari’s summons could be distinguished by cold shivers; Rovan’s by an unpleasant burning; Leigh’s by demanding jabs; Mitifa’s by impossibly timid, objectionable caresses. Ginora and Retar had died so long ago that she had forgotten what sensations they produced. But they hadn’t been pleasant either. Only Tal’ki’s summons never vexed the Damned. The warmth emanating from the Healer always felt pleasant. At times Tia wondered how the rest of the Octet perceived her during such conversations. But she had never once bothered to satisfy her curiosity.

  Typhoid felt the summons once more and hesitated. Could she put her trust in Tal’ki? What would she do when she learned what happened? How would she proceed? There had never been much peace among the Octet. And when two of them died after the Dark Revolt, the squabbling over precedence only increased. Rovan and Mitifa would gladly annihilate her. She had never been on friendly terms with Alenari either.

  Pork also felt the warmth and he shivered in delight. It ran pleasantly up his spine, embraced his shoulders, and crept up the nape of his neck. Then the Damned came to a decision. She forced the cowherd to leap up from the plaintively squeaking bed, rush over to the table, grab an earthenware jug full of water, and heave it at the wall.

  Fragments of pottery flew in all directions. The water, instead of falling to the floor, flowed down the wall and took on the form of a large oval that shimmered like quicksilver. This substance absorbed magic into itself, and after several seconds of tedious waiting, it showed the one who had sent the summons.

  Tal’ki, known in the Empire as Leprosy, was sitting in a stuffed rocking chair. A fluffy white cat was dozing on her lap, which was covered with a wool blanket. The old woman’s round, good-natured face was intent because she was the one that was holding onto the weaves of both sides of the Silver Window. When she saw a stranger, the Healer frowned and her faded blue eyes narrowed.

  “It’s me. Tia,” Typhoid said quickly. She feared that the one who had called her would disrupt the spell or even worse, attack. She didn’t even have a ghost of a chance of withstanding the strongest of the Sextet.

  Pork’s voice sounded hoarse. Tal’ki stared at him for a moment and then smiled amiably.

  “I simply don’t believe my eyes, my dear.”

  “You have to believe, Sister. It really is me.”

  Leprosy answered with her habitual smile. But her eyes were not smiling.

  “What is your name?” the old woman asked abruptly.

  “Tia.”

  “Forgive me, I meant your full name.”

  “Tia al’Lankarra.”

  Her interrogator kept smiling.

  “Typhoid. Murderer of Sorita,” Pork obediently repeated that which was whispered in his ear.

  The same expectant smile.

  “The Flames of Sunset! Blade of the South! Daughter of Night! Rider of Hurricanes! The Abyss take you! Which of my names do you wish to hear?”

  “I’m satisfied with those you have named, child. The names weren’t the point. It’s just that you’ve always been impatient and rude to your elders. Yes. It’s you. Though I really don’t understand how this is possible.”

  “I’d like to know myself.”

  “What happened?”

  Typhoid shared her recollections with Leprosy, having decided that things couldn’t get any worse.

  She was listened to in silence.

  “Interesting,” Tal’ki finally said thoughtfully, and she scratched her cat behind its ears. “I would even say it’s very interesting, my sweet one. Such a … strange resolution of a spell. It’s a curious puzzle. I will try to reproduce the boy’s weave. Such an unexpected result calls for careful scrutiny. What does your friend have on his hand?”

  Only now did Tia recall that Pork’s broken knuckles had been bleeding all this time.

  “It’s nothing. He cut himself.”

  “You shouldn’t shed his blood over nothing. You only have one body, girl. Treat it gently.”

  Seething internally that the old woman had fixated on such a trifle, Tia complied with her request and allowed the cowherd to bandage the scrape.

  “Can you help me?” she asked with bated breath.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know.” Her withered hand continued to stroke the cat. “Not right this instant, at any rate. I need time.”

  “How long?”

  “An hour. A day. A year. A century. An eternity. Time is so relative, my dear. You’ll just have to wait.”

  “You’re a Healer!”

  “So what? I’ve only heard of what happened to you once before, when I was still a young girl and I had just come to the Rainbow Valley. I’ve no desire to run afoul of such a manifestation of a Healer’s Gift. Patience, my darling. Patience. It’s possible I can help you. But not right away. I’ll have to work on it properly.”

  “And what should I do while you ‘work on it’? Can’t you see, my abilities are far from what they were.”

  “You put it mildly, girl. You don’t have any abilities. That with which you keep that boy under control does not count. Hush now! Don’t frown and huff at an old woman. What my heart thinks, my tongue speaks.” Tal’ki giggled. “The Healer’s weave took a lot out of you.”

  “It took everything!”

  “You’re mistaken. If that were so, you’d be dead. A person strong enough in his Gift won’t die when his body is destroyed. His true essence can continue existing for some time afterward.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “I don’t doubt that. None of you, besides Mitifa I suppose, know things like that. You set aside your books, my dear one. But every now and then you can find something very interesting in books. What happened to you is just like I said. Your true essence, your spirit, which now hovers before me, stayed behind. We won’t guess what would have happened to it without the magic of the Healer. Perhaps you might have intuitively settled in someone else’s body, but perhaps you would no longer exist. The manuscripts from the time of the Sculptor tell us that accomplishing something like this without the proper experience is difficult.”

  Typhoid did not doubt for a second that if Tal’ki were in her place, she’d figure it out.

  “But you’re in luck. The weave of our talented boy fettered your soul to the soul of the man who is chatting so sweetly with me on your behalf. You are connected by one chain, and you can control him. Even alter him, as I see. But that’s all you can do, isn’t it? You can’t arouse your spark.”

  “I knew that without you.�
�

  “Don’t be rude.” Tal’ki smiled coldly. “If you’re bored, I won’t continue.”

  “Pardon me.”

  “Your spark doesn’t blaze because you don’t have the proper vessel. Yes, your spirit is strong, but without the required, shall we say, fervor, you can do nothing. To use your real Gift, even at a quarter of its strength, you need a vessel.”

  “I can’t move into another body. I don’t have the ability. Plus, you yourself just said that I’m shackled to the soul of this idiot.”

  “So I did. And I wouldn’t recommend breaking the chain. It’s not that easy to return from the Abyss.”

  Typhoid did not like Tal’ki’s smile.

  “Then I don’t understand.”

  “Dead bodies.”

  “What?”

  “Dead bodies, my dear girl. They don’t have souls. The house is empty and a new tenant may as well inhabit it. For a short while, naturally. The chain will let you pull off such a stunt if that young man is nearby.”

  “I’m not going to crawl into the body of a corpse!”

  “Then forget about the possibility of using your Gift.”

  “I simply could not accomplish such a thing!”

  “It’s not that difficult. Memorize the design of this weave. It’s pretty much the same as for control of kukses. And it takes about as much strength as a mouse’s spit.”

  Tal’ki drew a flaming pattern in the air with her finger.

  “Did you memorize it? Excellent. And now another two little designs, my sweet. The first will make it so that you don’t have to whisper in the boy’s ear. You can control him as if it were your own body. And the second will make it so that the Healer’s weave no longer inflicts pain on your spirit. I think they’ll both let you feel like you are far more free than before. Memorize them.”

  Two more patterns appeared in the air.

  “Will I have control over the corpse and this body at the same time?”

  “No. You won’t need to control the corpse. You’ll become it. And the strength that will emerge in you will allow you, in some measure, to restrain this charming little boy as well. Just don’t forget, please, that the dead bodies should be fresh. And you can reside in their shells for no more than three days. After that not even the power of your spark will be able to keep the body from decaying. I advise you to leave before that happens or else you might remain there forever. And don’t forget to control your ward. He shouldn’t go more than twenty yards away from you. You wouldn’t want to be pulled out like a dog on a leash, would you?”

  “I think I can cope with this.”

  “Well, that’s good. I’ll attend to your problem right away. Frankly speaking, I’m quite interested in it. It’s not every day that something like this happens. Even if it’s just a diversion for a sick old woman. One more thing, my dear. I’m awfully interested in that talented girl and the boy Healer.”

  “I’ll kill them!” wheezed Tia, trembling from the hatred that rushed through her.

  “Don’t you even think about doing something so stupid!” Tal’ki snapped. All her goodwill suddenly disappeared. “The girl, who so easily mastered the khilss and who knows the weaves of Death, which only Elects of the Sixth Sphere and up are capable of, is essential. We need to know who taught her! We must!”

  “She’s of no use to me!”

  “But she’s of use to me,” snapped Leprosy. “And you’re not in any condition to be acting precipitously.”

  “And the little boy? Give him to me, Tal’ki.”

  “He’s a Healer, my dear. Don’t you understand how valuable he is? Or has the thirst for revenge entirely blinded your reason? Killing him would be very … inopportune. That sort of Gift…” She smiled at her own thoughts. “Plus, if you want to fully return to yourself, he might be needed. It’s possible that only with the help of his spark will I be able to break the chain and transfer your soul back. If the lad did it once he might do it again. The young man could be a fallback, in case your spirit does not surrender to my Gift.”

  “I can’t come back. My body is dead.”

  “There’s plenty of that stuff around,” said the Healer dismissively. “Of course, it would be better if the vessel already carried someone’s spark within it. To that end, our talented little girl could come in handy. Of course, only after she’s answered all my questions. Right now you have only one task—to find both of them and bring them to me. Alive.”

  “I understand. I’m not a fool.”

  “Can you find them?”

  “I think so. There’s only one road here. To Al’sgara. I’ll try to overtake them.”

  “Lovely, my dear. By the way, I wanted to tell you something. I found two girls with the Gift. Both Walkers. One isn’t against helping us. The other is still giving me cheek.”

  “Are you sure of the first?”

  “Oh yes. She’s a very driven child. She reminds me of Alenari when she was young, my sweet.”

  Tia wrinkled her nose.

  “Well, you’re going to have to hurry if you want to catch our friends.” Tal’ki smiled. “Remember, I need them alive.”

  In the next instant the Silver Window went dark, and the freed water spilled to the floor. Typhoid swore, and Pork, obeying her command, kicked out with all his strength at the capsized chair, which was blameless.

  The old hag dared to admonish her!

  The Damned was furious that she would have to submit to Leprosy, or else the hag wouldn’t lift a finger to help her. The boy and girl could hardly have gone far. If she needed to overturn the entire Empire, she would find them and drag them back to Tal’ki in chains. All but the archer. She didn’t have to give him to anyone.

  12

  Despite my fears, our new companions did not seem to be planning any trouble. They behaved meekly, just like the acolytes of Melot during a long fast. Of course, the Son of the Snow Leopard took being parted from his beloved blade quite poorly. The poor fellow was practically twitching with indignation.

  Well, to the Abyss with him.

  It would be downright folly to allow the redhead his sword. I’d seen how the northern people handled sharp objects. Before you have a chance to say a word, you’re kissing your head good-bye. It must be said that even without a weapon, the redhead was a dangerous opponent. I hadn’t forgetten how easily he eluded my arrows nor how he prowled in the forest.

  His figure and gait gave him away as a seasoned campaigner. If he didn’t like our orders, then dealing with him would be no easier than handling an enraged snow leopard. I had no idea what to do with the redhead when we stopped for the night. We’d have to tie him up to get any sleep. It wouldn’t do to forget that all northerners are quiet and peaceful until the time comes. And when it does, they’d as soon hit you over the head as say hello. You can only stop them with a crossbow. Sometimes not even then.

  And then there was Ga-Nor’s friend, a man of a completely different disposition. Nothing ominous there. At first he was as quiet as a mouse, but as soon as he realized that no one was planning to kill him, he livened up right away and came out of his shell so much that for the past two hours he’d been chatting away nonstop, happy to have found himself an appreciative audience in Layen.

  My sun listened to his story of the fall of the Gates of Six Towers and their subsequent meanderings through the forest with interest. When I heard him mention the Damned, I also pricked up my ears. If the man was lying, he did it well. But, judging from his description, Rubeola did not at all resemble the girl who attacked us in the village. Layen caught my gaze and with just her lips whispered, “Typhoid.”

  So that’s who confronted us. Well then, the murderer of Sorita, if it really was her, had received a most unpleasant death as payment for all her crimes.

  In the meantime, Luk continued to hold forth. Shen was not paying the slightest attention. He brought up the rear, sullen and somber. It was not at all to the Healer’s liking that I chose to accept the strangers into our group. As u
sual, I spat on his opinion and his discontent.

  There was an opening in the trees ahead of us. We descended a low pitched hill covered in spruce trees and then we were at the road.

  “We made it!” Luk exclaimed triumphantly. “We made it, screw a toad!”

  He had this habit of interjecting his toad whether it was appropriate or not. Odd.

  “Why are you so happy? We still have a long way to march.” Ga-Nor did not share his comrade’s enthusiasm.

  “But along a road, not through the forest!”

  “Uh-huh. That’s what I meant.”

  “What are you talking about? Someone might pass by and give us a lift.”

  “Exactly.” Taking advantage of the halt, Shen was shaking a pebble out of his boot. “A Nabatorian patrol, for example. I’m sure they’d be happy to give you a lift to the nearest cemetery.”

  “I don’t think we need to worry about Nabator,” disagreed Layen. “They’re not yet interested in taking Al’sgara.”

  “I wonder why that is?” I interjected. “The city is much closer than Okni or Gash-Shaku.”

  “I really don’t know. But for now they’re leaving Al’sgara alone. So the road there should be free. But it’s going to be a while before we find horses. ’Til we get to Bald Hollow, at least.”

  “How far do we have to go?” Ga-Nor approached her too quickly, but his hands were in sight and I wasn’t about to get twitchy over a trifle. “How many days?”

  “As many as we need,” I replied. “The sooner we set off, the faster we’ll get there. So let’s not delay uselessly.”

  The rain had stopped a while ago, but the road was studded with puddles and there was so much mud that we had to walk on the shoulder, where it was a bit cleaner. The thick spruce forest continued to stretch on to our right, but it soon dropped away to the left, giving way to the cheerless landscape of a swamp. Moss and flimsy saplings are not at all pleasing to the eye. I wanted to pass through this part of our journey as quickly as possible. I didn’t feel like feeding the mosquitoes, and there were more terrible things that could emerge from the swamp to feed on us. People say all sorts of things about these places and most of them are bad. I’m not inclined to believe in nonsense, because I know that the Blazogs are far from monsters, but besides this fairly peaceful race, there really are dangerous creatures living here as well. The sole good thing about our environs was that in the summer vast numbers of birds nested in the swampy lakes, and I held on to the hope that we might not have to go without dinner. To that end, I put a fresh string on my bow so I would be ready to shoot at any moment.