by Cat Bruno
“I cannot let you leave until you tell me what you know,” he warned, eying the old woman who had grown silent.
Finally, she nodded and mumbled, “A woman like the one you describe bought ginger root from me. I only remember because she suggested adding sage to an aching-head salve I was making. I had not thought to do so, but did as she suggested. I have seen a few like her before, with pouches hanging from their belts. I believe she was a healer and took her words as sage advice.”
Clenching his fist, he looked to his men.
“What more do you know of her?”
For a long time the woman paused, as if trying to remember. Or deciding if confessing was in her best interest.
“You are not so old to have forgotten,” he told her, another warning clearly given.
With a sigh only one with as many moon years as she, the woman muttered, “She said something of her father being ill, and that she was taking him somewhere warm for his recovery. Many who suffer from the sea-sickness buy ginger from me, Prince. She was no different than many, although she knew much more than any.”
With those words, Crispin knew where Caryss had gone. She had outplayed him once, but no longer, he vowed.
Rising from his chair, he said to his guards, “See that the lady gets home safely.”
Crispin hurried to his rooms, thinking on what he must prepare before his own departure. By evening, he hoped to be aboard the swiftest ship he could find. The Southern Cove Islands called.
*****
By the time Caryss arrived back at the inn, Otieno was nowhere to be found. She thought about looking for him, but Asha found her first.
Since they had last spoken, just hours before, much had changed for Asha. Eying the woman, Caryss tried to keep her face free from judgment. Asha looked so different that Caryss nearly whooped upon seeing her. She had replaced her oversized dress with loose pants and a brown tunic that clung tight to her large breasts, as if it was a size too small. Her hair, once braided and dyed, had been cut short, nearly all of it removed. She looked, Caryss thought, like she should be traveling with Otieno. She looked more warrior than woman, Caryss realized, smiling at the thought.
But, more, Asha seemed at ease in the clothing.
“How fares Keva?” Caryss asked, nodding at Asha’s new look.
“More alert these last few hours. She fed the babe as well. She was asking for you. I told her of your plans to leave on the morrow. Is there no way that we can convince you to stay, Caryss?”
Laughing softly, Caryss told her, “You know that I cannot. It will not be long before others come looking for me.”
Graver now, Asha asked, “What of your own child? We can protect you here or at least hide you well.”
“Not against the might of Rexterra, Asha. Nor do I want to make my enemies yours too. The babe must be born in the North, as I was. Of that I am certain.”
“You talk little of the father,” Asha commented, the words slipping from reluctant lips.
The day had been long, and Caryss stated plainly, “She will be a daughter of the wolf.”
Both women stood just outside of the inn, their smiles gone.
“What occurred to make you hate him so much?” Asha quietly asked.
Her throat thick, Caryss nearly did not answer. But Asha deserved to know, she thought, and pushed the hollow words out.
“He killed my parents. Moon years ago. And made me bear witness to their murders.”
Caryss heard Asha draw a long breath and almost regretted her words. It was not Asha who had done so, and the woman did not deserve her anger.
“Leseda,” she gasped, coming close and wrapping an arm around her. “Tell me what help I can offer. If you seek vengeance, then it shall be so. If you want him dead, I will see it done. The Great Mother always balances the scales. For the life of the babe, I must offer death.”
“I know not want I want,” Caryss mumbled as Asha gripped her more tightly.
“But you must go back?”
Caryss nodded.
Asha released her, saying, “Will you accept the Great Mother’s gift? Her kiss of death never fails.”
Wiping at her face, Caryss sighed, “I would not make my daughter fatherless. I am healer still.”
With a nod, Asha pulled her close and offered to walk with her to see Keva.
As they walked toward the new mother’s room, Caryss again explained all that Asha would need to do to keep her sister well. In less than a day, their group would depart, and it eased her mind to know that Asha would be properly informed on how best to tend to the new mother.
When they entered the room, Keva was holding the babe; Aldric was seated near the window. Caryss looked to him questioningly, but he merely shrugged, as if he could not explain his new role as companion.
Awake and much stronger than when last she visited, Keva called, “I owe you so much, Caryss.”
“Your sister has thanked me plenty, and that you can hold your babe is reward alone,” Caryss told her, nearing the cot.
“Will you tell me his name now?” Caryss teased, brushing at the babe’s cheek with her fingers.
Her smile wide and white, Keva chirped, “He was to be named for his father, but since he is not here to object, I have decided to name the babe for another. My sister told me of her plans, leseda, of how she will make the inn a place of training. It brings me much joy to see Asha so free. And even more to know that my son will be find a calling beyond the seas. And so I have chosen to give him a name fit for a warrior. He will be called Blaze. May the Great Mother allow him to burn as bright as fire!”
“The word is Common. Not many here will know it,” Caryss interrupted.
“The Cove will only be his home for a short while. But his name will carry him far. And he will never forget the woman who saved him.”
Caryss’s hand stilled as she stroked the boy. Asleep and wrapped tightly in a multi-hued blanket, he looked as any other babe, peaceful in his slumber.
But in the moon years to come, he would be readied, with sword and shield. Another warrior for her daughter’s army. On the morrow, she would sail to find the next soldier. One who was as powerful as the girl would be, for he was born of kings.
Keva talked more, but Caryss hardly listened, thinking on the battle that one day would come.
*****
18
As if sent by the Great Mother, a southern wind carried them north. The ship was a small one, but fast, and they arrived on the Eastern Cordisian coast in less than a half-moon. The captain paid them little heed, yet took their money all the same. Aldric had not trusted him overmuch and kept Caryss and the King under a humming veil anytime that the captain or his sons, who served as deckhands, neared.
It was midday when they made landfall, at a small port called Toccovo, near the border of Planusia and Planusterra. Aldric was first to depart, and still insisted on keeping the ward across Caryss and Herrin. Despite her attempts to convince him she was safe, the mage would not relent, despite his growing fatigue.
Herrin required less and less poppy milk with each day, yet his body was still covered in rash and his legs too weak to support him. Otieno was often by his side, Caryss knew, uncertain what to make of it. The king still slept most of the day, yet he would talk some of Rexterra and his sons. Once, Caryss had questioned him about who he thought responsible for his illness. And, in his temporary lucidity, the King had stated that it could have been any except Delwin and Crispin. She did not disagree with him outright, but she did not believe his words either. Few would gain from his death more than his heirs.
Pulling a long cape tight across her chest, Caryss hurried to catch up to Aldric. Behind her, Otieno pushed the King in a new cart purchased in the Cove, with Sharron walking to his side. Caryss wondered again if the diauxie had ever traveled to Cordisia, yet she did not ask. He would only answer her in more riddles, and she had no time for such games.
The group would head northwest from Toccovo, until they we
re near the Eirrannian border. Beneath the swirling cape, for it was cooler here than it had been in the Cove, Caryss shivered. It was the first time that she had been so near her homeland, and she could not warm her chilled body.
Whispering to no one but the land, she hummed, “And finally my path is my own.”
Her words were hushed, but Aldric turned toward her and asked, “What is it that you called?”
“Can you not sense the rightness of what we do with each step closer to Eirrannia?”
She was beside him as he answered, “I only follow, Caryss. And trust in what you see. But I will be no fool, and, if I think you in danger, I will speak on it.”
“I would expect no less,” she told him. “For now, we are where we should be.”
“You still think it wise to find this boy, Caryss?”
Nodding, she explained, “The girl will need him. And he longs to explore beyond the farmstead where he has lived most of his life.”
“What of Crispin? Have you thought of what he will say when he learns that you have both his father and his son?”
“The boy is ten moon years old, yet the prince has not seen him since he was a babe. Nor does he speak of the boy. Prince Crispin has had enough time to name him heir, yet he will not.”
“Caryss, do no act out of anger,” the mage warned. “I realize the prince spoke harshly to you before we left the King’s City, but do not let that trick you into believing that your actions will have no consequences. And do not forget that King Herrin once tried to kill the same boy we now seek.”
His warning did not escape her notice, and Caryss quieted for a moment, dropping her eyes to the verdant grass beneath her booted feet as they made their way inland. Green and soft, the grass was unlike what she had become used to in Litusia. The air smelled faintly of the sea, but as the group distanced themselves from the coast, the salty scent faded, replaced with the stronger smells of mud and dung.
With a wave of her hand, she told him, “The king? The same one who sleeps more often than a babe at the breast? You worry much, Aldric.”
Behind her, Sharron laughed.
“We have been far in the last few moons, Caryss. I had never thought to see so much. How long until we head north?” the other healer asked.
“Is the North calling you as well, Sharron? Since leaving the ship, I have felt as if my life pulse has quickened, as if my blood is raging fierce through my body. As I have never felt it do before. I, too, am ready to go home.”
Her words had grown heavy, and Sharron put an arm around her, at once comforting and understanding. Caryss did not need to hear the other Eirrannian’s words, but she listened anyway.
“I have been away from my homeland for half of my life. In truth, I had never thought to return. But, now, I long to see the snow-peaked mountains and sky-blue rivers as never before.”
As Caryss plaited her hair, she told Sharron, “It is strange how I forget so much. I know not how to find the home I once knew, nor if any of my kin still live. Even the Faelan Mountains are but a forgotten picture to me. I recall so little of the North even now.”
“You were but a child when you arrived at the Academy,” Sharron reminded her.
“A child with no memory,” Caryss sighed, tying a Covian scarf across her head. “Enough talk of then. We must make arrangements to get horses and more. Aldric, how far is the ride from here to where the boy is?”
“If he is near the border, then perhaps a quarter-moon. We will need a covered wagon for the King. I cannot ward him for such a long time.”
“Of course. Is there coin enough to purchase all that we need?” she asked.
“Aye. But I left Asha with enough silver to buy sword and shield for the inn and its new trainees. Our purse grows lighter each day, Caryss. This will be the last of it, I would guess.”
Coin mattered little to her, and she had hurriedly given all of it to Aldric as soon as they had departed from the Academy.
“Must we send word to Willem?”
Aldric’s face was taut, more lined than it had been moons before. He spoke little on the toll his mage-skill enacted, yet his body, thinner now, told her enough.
“We will need lodging and supplies once we finally reach Eirrannia. There will not be enough coin for that.”
Sharron was near and interjected, “My parents will help. They live near Scoutsman Road, which is not far from fennidi territory. It would take little time to visit, and there is room enough for us to stay.”
“Aye, we can visit,” Caryss agreed, “But I do not want to overburden them.”
She left unsaid that she did not want to endanger them, but each who listened understood her meaning.
“Caryss, you do not know my parents,” Sharron objected. “When I told them of my plans to enroll in the Academy, they quickly approved. I daresay they even expected it. They are Eirrannian-true, and once they hear of the girl, they will do all they can to help. Their home will be yours.”
With little to do but nod her agreement, Caryss walked further down the well-paved road, listening as her thickly heeled boots thumped against the soft stones. The rhythm lulled her into a half-trance, until she felt as if she was in a dream. The sounds around her, voices speaking in a language she could only half make sense of - shouts, laughter - were muffled, as if a fog covered them. When Caryss looked up, she expected to find the girl.
However, when her gray-green eyes opened, the road was as it had been. Sharron walked ahead, steps in front of her, as was Otieno, his frayed braids hanging down his back, blending in with the dark tunic that he wore. As he pushed the King, the Greatsword across his back swayed, heavy and wide. As Caryss watched it, she remembered how the girl had been able to wield the sword as if it was an ordinary weapon and not half the size of a man.
To Sharron’s right stood a large, three-storied inn. The style of the building was simple, unadorned except for black, wooden shutters that framed several windows. It was well tended despite its simplicity; she hurried to reach Sharron. Her hair was pulled tight against her neck, and the long scarf wrapped about it, shielding its color. Aldric had insisted upon the attempted disguise, and Caryss had cared little enough so she did not argue.
“We will stay but a night,” she called to the other healer as she neared.
“Do you know where the boy is then?” Sharron asked, reaching into a purse at her waist.
“Not exactly,” Caryss laughed. “There are ways to contact him if we have not seen him by the morrow.”
The mood was a light one, and Sharron smiled as she entered the inn, with Caryss trailing behind. With her soft nature and gentle eyes, the healer approached a white-haired man seated behind a large, curved bar. While she negotiated rates for a night, Caryss strolled to the other side of the main room, away from the loud crowd gathered in the dining area. Her legs were still unsteady from the time spent aboard the Covian ship, so, instead of sitting in one of the upholstered chairs, she stood near a window, staring across the wide street to where Otieno and Aldric waited.
Her hands cupped together, fingers threaded through each other, across the small mound of her stomach, and Caryss closed her eyes. Suddenly, she felt a fluttering inside of her, as if one of the blue-winged butterflies that she often saw near the Academy’s gardens had taken home there, gently battering the area just beneath her hands.
There was no fog, no mist, no wave or thunder. Lightning did not streak against the clear sky. The wooden planks beneath her feet did not shudder or quake. The air hummed around her, but only as it had before, smelling faintly of ale. All was as it had been.
Yet nothing was as it once was. Never before had she felt the babe move inside of her. Even when the girl visited, she had never touched or embraced Caryss. As if she could not. Now, however, for the first time, Caryss felt the girl, and knew her to be real in a way that was new and unexpected. No longer ghost or spirit or magic. She was blood and bone, skin and teeth, flesh and marrow. She was, Caryss realized, just like any o
ther babe.
In a few moons time, the girl would be her daughter. And a child of the North.
With clear eyes painted like the Faelan Forest, she again glanced to where the men stood. Otieno, his dark face contrasting sharply next to Aldric’s pale skin, caught her eye. But it was not to his face that her eyes were drawn, as the sword seemed to catch the twinkling rays of the midday sun, radiating shards of dancing light in a sparkling array of gold and red. The diauxie appeared to be aflame.
Yet Caryss knew that it was a trick of the light, nothing more.
Enyo, she remembered the girl calling it. Conri’s gift, knowledge of language, came upon her. And she knew the name anew.
Bloodlust.
For now, the babe would be hers. But Caryss could not forget the way that the girl had wielded the Greatsword. In time she would learn to be healer. Yet she would always be Tribe.
This girl, who shined on each visit, was still a daughter of the Wolf.
Otieno’s eyes found hers, and she knew that he watched her, through the thickly-paned, brightly-stained glass.
He knows more than he has admitted.
Behind her, Sharron neared, calling her name and breaking the spell that the diauxie had sought to weave.
*****
With him were eight of his most trusted men, although Crispin was ill at ease. Since their arrival in the Cove, he had slept fitfully, fearing that the many lies he had told to disguise the trip might soon unravel. He had nearly abandoned the idea to come so far, as he had not been able to find any record of Caryss’s departure from the King’s City. Yet, the old woman had sworn that Caryss had told her of plans to take her ailing father south, to warmer lands. And when the whore went missing too, Crispin realized his guess was the right one.
The Islander had help; the Prince was certain. Four dead men, two armed with swords, and several others, well-trained and well-equipped, had been fooled by the woman as she escaped.
When his men had returned and told him of the Islander’s disappearance, Crispin first suspected the dark mage. With his aid, the healer had been able to escape as well, taking the King with her. He now believed that the healer had long planned the abduction, and Crispin wondered if even his cousin knew of her actions. For now, he trusted none, as he had once warned Caryss.