The blue bead warned Katya of danger inside the tent on the third night. She drew her daggers before pushing aside the canvas flap. The dim light from a few torches and cook fires showed a round bulge on the end of her cot that should not be there.
The left hand dagger flew and imbedded into a fat viper before she thought about the nature of the danger. Patience frayed to rags by the heat, the dirt, thirst, she stabbed and dismembered the creature again and again until Sha’awna’s grip on her wrist finally stopped her.
“I think you have made your point.”
Cannik removed the remains by the simple expedient of lifting the slashed-to-ribbons blanket and carrying it away to toss the snake meat into the desert for scavengers.
Katya spent a cold night rather than admit she had perhaps responded to the minor threat more fiercely than she should.
The next day brought a steady wind that circled and played with the dust, sending cyclones of it into their eyes, their hair, their teeth. They walked, letting the camels shield them from some of the blowing dirt.
“I need a bath,” Lady Sha’awna announced as they approached the evening oasis two hours after sunset. “I need clean clothing. I need protection from the sun!” She stamped her foot and crossed her arms refusing to move forward.
The caravan flowed around her as a river forges a path around a tiny island.
“My regrets, Lady. We all want a bath, clean clothes, and real beds. Those are not options,” Katya tried to soothe her. Her own words sharp.
“Options! When have I ever had options? No one asks what I want. I am bought and sold, shunted from place to place so I will no longer disgrace those I leave behind. Their choice. Their options.”
Katya cringed beneath the tirade. “Out here none of us has choices,” she placated.
“You chose to come out here. I did not.”
“You had the choice to sail with your prince. I know a sea voyage is riskier...”
“No, I did not have that choice. No one thought to offer it to me.” Lady Sha’awna lifted her chin and firmed her posture. “Choices. Everyone has choices but me.”
Before Katya could think about a reply a scream rose from the oases. She had a dagger in one hand and a throwing star in the other before the shouts of alarm gave way to crisp orders from Cannik.
“My lady, stay behind me,” Katya ordered. With a wide gesture she swept her charge away from the surge of traffic, human and animal. Then she checked Sha’awna’s fine silk cord attached to her left wrist, her off hand. Keeping a wary eye on as wide a scene as possible Katya edged across the wasteland toward the swath of green around the wells. Sha’awna led the camels.
As the animals neared the oasis, their nostrils flared at the scent of water. They brayed, loudly. Their ears flicked forward and back. They stepped more quickly and eagerly.
“Keep the animals back!” Cannik shouted.
Katya stopped short. Sha’awna ran into her. The camels tried to lurch past them in their hurry to reach the life-giving water. Katya made a desperate grab for their reins and dug in her heels. She needed all her considerable strength to slow them. They protested mightily, noisily, with much stamping of feet and bellowing and spitting.
“Stop those camels!” Cannik said again from much closer. Katya dropped her full body weight into the rough dirt and scrub and still the beasts dragged her forward.
Cannik lunged and added his own weight to the reins. With an annoyed scream the camels dropped, folding their knees beneath them. They continued protesting the humans’ unreasonable action of keeping them from the necessary water.
“What’s going on?” Katya asked, brushing dirt and spiny plant debris from her wide trousers that gathered at the ankle and hid numerous pockets and compartments. All she managed was to grind more of the grit into the fabric.
“The well has been poisoned,” Cannik said. He too rose and tried his best to clean himself.
“Poison? What kind of poison?” Katya knew a lot about poisons, normal and magical.
“I’m not sure,” Carrik said, shaking his head. “There were no dead bodies in the water. I smelled no sulfur or other noxious things. The runes on the rocks beside the well said the water was sweet. But my two camels took a long drink, rolled up their eyes and were dead before they finished swallowing.”
“It sounds like magic,” Katya whispered. and she thought she knew which spell. A nasty one that took a lot of energy and many ingredients to create. An ordinary spell-caster would need days to recover afterward.
“We have no maji in the caravan,” Cannik protested.
“Are there residents of the oasis?” Katya began rummaging in her bags; prepared for most emergencies on the road.
“A few,” Cannik said. His eyes half-closed indicating he was deep in thought.
“Enough for a mage to hide among them?” She whirled to face him and drag the information out of him if necessary.
“I shall look.”
“Look hard, under every rock,” Katya spat. “Whoever did it will be drained, likely too tired even to stand.” Her hands shook as she fumbled the knot on the silk leash to Sha’awna.
“What are you doing?” the lady asked. An edge of panic touched her voice. “You aren’t going to leave me!”
“I must, Lady. I must negate the spell. None of us or our animals will make it to the next oasis without water tonight. The sun is already down. We can go no further tonight. I have to do what I can to save the water.”
“Wh...what am I to do?”
“I will ask the silk merchant...”
“No. He cannot protect me.” She gathered her courage around her like a cloak. “Kat, I will go with you. Tell me the shape and size of your bundles and vials. I can identify them by touch and pass them to you.”
Katya paused only a moment. “Very well, lady.” She tied the cord around her wrist again.
“My name is Sha’awna.”
“And mine is Katya. You just made a choice, my... Sha’awna. Two of them actually. You are not completely devoid of options.”
Lady Sha’awna nodded. “I will have one chance, one choice to regain control of my life. The time will come and I know what I will choose. But the time and place are not right tonight.” She firmed her chin.
Katya said nothing, merely tugged lightly on the leash and walked toward the well. The blue bead in her hair began to vibrate. The closer she came, the more violent its dance against her temple. “About time, you woke up,” she muttered.
The sight of the camels sprawled in their ungainly death made her stiffen. She recognized the green foam around their mouths, the same tinge to their rolled up eyes, and the awkward position of their knees caught in violent death spasms.
Ugly deaths, not fitting to offer to the goddess Shi’in. Though she would use them if necessary, Katya did not like poisons.
If one offered death to another, the most intimate action one could perform, more intimate than any act of love or sex, then it needed to be done face to face. She preferred to see the light fade from her target’s eyes and then briefly flare as they caught sight of the terrible beauty of what lay on the other side of this life.
This poison gave the wielder distance both from his target and responsibility for the deaths.
“Amateurs,” she snarled. “Kill the entire caravan for one person, most likely.”
“Untrained, or desperate?” Sha’awna asked in that uncanny way of hers.
“Both,” Katya agreed. “But who is their primary target?”
“The entire caravan. We carry some valuable silk, spices, and wine,” Cannik offered, returning from his errand. He shook his head indicating he’d found no mage.
Silk, spice, and wine. Not worth the cost of the spell to either the crafter or the caster.
“If our cargo is the assassin’s target, then why kill the camels when they will be needed to carry it off? This is the pool for beasts. Is the well for people also poisoned?”
“I assumed so.” C
annik ran off to make sure. He returned moments later with the assurance that the human well was untainted, if a bit heavy with ground minerals.
Without another word, Katya set about negating the magically charged poison. She and Sha’awna laid out each of the potions and talismans needed, in order of use. Katya took a deep breath to center her concentration. For the next hour she focused all of her will into turning the water sweet again.
When she finished, her hands shook with the waves of energy and power that had passed through her. When she tried to stand, shock waves of pain and weakness shot from her knees to her head.
Cannik caught her before she fell. “I’ve seen to your tent. You and Lady Sha’awna may retire there in peace. Rest well for you will need your strength tomorrow. By noon we will reach the river, thanks to you. We must reach the ford before sunset to find safe campground.”
“The ford?” Katya looked up to read the tightness of his mouth and the deep lines around his eyes that said a lot more than his words. “Outlaws will hit us there. Not from the heights. That is why they poisoned the well, to slow us down, make us more awkward crossing the river.” The blue bead tingled a bit in agreement.
“I’ll make sure they don’t,” Cannik reassured her.
The caravan trudged warily along the south riverbank, skirting tall hills that rose steeply and sharply above the narrow trail. Everyone kept a wary eye on the ridges above, seeking any sign of movement or odd shadow that might give them a bit of warning of ambush.
Cannik scattered his men the full length of the twisting line of travelers. They all wore their weapons openly, revealing swords, bows with full quivers, short knives, daggers, throwing stars, whips, and bolos. A few of the merchants carried spears and wore leather armor and helms. Katya made Sha’awna walk with the tall camels between them and the hills. She kept her charge close, guiding her with a touch to her elbow over the tricky footing.
“My men dispatched a dozen raiders. Another dozen fled,” Cannik whispered as he passed Katya. I don’t know if they will return for vengeance or flee in fright.”
At last the wind ceased tearing at them becoming more a sigh than a scream, the path broadened into a road, the hills shrank, the river spread out and grew less frantic and deep. An eerie quiet descended among the caravan.
Then Katya spied the causeway that should give them safe footing across the water.
The river poured through a wide gash in the dressed stones. Spray and trickles dampened the rest of the path, making footing slippery and treacherous. The break looked natural, a few stones pushed out of the way after a recent storm, not the work of raiders.
“Ropes! We need every rope you have,” Cannik called from the head of the line.
Katya tiredly dug out a thick coil from her packs. “You came prepared,” Cannik said as he traveled the line collecting all that he could.
“I’m always prepared.” Katya touched the blue bead. It remained calm. If danger lurked it was not imminent. She hoped that perhaps the outlaws did not plan to attack them as they crossed.
Slowly, carefully, they sent strong swimmers across with ropes tied to their waists. Within a short time they had crude guidelines strung the full width of the river. The gap was not so wide after all. The long legged camels crossed it with a single step. When Katya’s and Sha’awna’s turn came, Cannik made sure they were firmly lashed together and to him. He carried the blind girl across the gap while Katya anchored him. Then he stood fast, letting her borrow his strength until she too stood on firmer ground.
“Is it here?” Sha’awna whispered the moment they set foot on dry land.
“Is what here?” Katya asked, more snappish than polite.
“Home. My sanctuary. My choice,” Sha’awna replied just as sharply.
Katya looked around. Mostly she saw people setting up camp or crossing the river. The blue bead caressed her face. No warning of danger, more a thrill of completion. She looked closer at the lush landscape that graced this side of the river. A quarter league away, well above the flood line but close enough to utilize the river, a dense copse blocked sight of what lay within its shadows. Then a chance shift of light as the sun drifted toward the horizon caught a glint off polished granite.
A rare stone in these parts. A heavy stone to drag from the hills. Something manmade and important must reside there. Katya’s heart seemed to swell with a sense of familiar welcome. She needed to go there. She needed to be there. Now.
She took Sha’awna’s hand. Together they began to circle the copse deosil, the way of the sun. Before long, on the western side, Katya spied a path, not much more than a game trail, but clear of major obstacles.
Whatever lay within tugged at her, urging her to push her tired feet faster.
“It’s here. I can smell it. I feel the awesome presence,” Sha’awna insisted, pressing close to Katya, urging her to move faster yet.
“What is it?” Katya asked. The slanted light from the dying sun showed a clear spot just ahead. Blood shone in that light. Dark and foreboding. And yet it also held the promise of the warmth of a cheery fire contained within a hearth.
Sha’awna rushed past Katya, dragging her by the silken leash. She cast off her hat and veil just before stumbling on the first of the granite steps leading to the open square. Katya helped her to stand, all the while surveying their surroundings. The blue bead remained dormant. No overt threat. But Katya had not survived in a dangerous world and a more dangerous career by relying on talismans and spells. She trusted her eyes, her ears, and her gut instinct.
Tiny vines and grasses poked through the minute seams in the paving of the large square, open now, once enclosed by walls and pillars. The surrounding jungle of scrub trees and groundcover needed time to encroach as far as it had. At lot of time, many seasons of rains and seeds to wear space in those cracks. Something wild and strong had scattered the pillars and walls outside the square. Surrounding buildings, much smaller, lacked roofs and doors. Gaps in the stone walls where windows once lighted the interiors were now un-shuttered and un-glazed.
And then she spotted the scorch marks. Fire had reigned here once. Fire and destruction. She knew the patterns, had seen them before in another temple, another place and time. But these patterns began and died out in different sections. Only the attempt to break the altar remained the same.
“What is this place?” Katya whispered. “What god was worshipped here?” It all felt familiar with just enough difference that she knew this place was not home. Yet she was welcome.
“Was?” Sha’awna gasped. “Where are the chanting priests and priestesses? I smell no incense or candles. I hear no hymns of praise. What happened?” Her last question rose on a frightened squeal.
“There is no one here, now. The place was burned out and abandoned long ago.”
“Lost. I am lost. Totally, irrevocably lost.” Sha’awna dropped to her knees, all traces of her natural grace gone. She slumped, clutching her stomach. Tears streaked her face. “My only choices have been stolen. I have nothing left. I am nothing.” She collapsed prostrate on the ground, long fingers scrabbling at the worn granite.
A rush of noise rose behind them. “My lady, my love, where are you? Do not hide from me, your prince!”
Sha’awna groaned. “Lost. I am lost.”
“My lady.” Katya dropped to her knees cradling her sobbing friend. “Dry your tears, my lady. Your journey is almost done. Your prince has ridden out to meet you.”
“My prince,” Sha’awna spat. “My owner. I am as much a slave as ever. Money exchanged hands; none of it came to me. Contracts signed, none by me. None of it my choice. I am not even to have the honor of becoming a wife. Merely a consort.”
“Even so, my lady. My friend. As consort you will have rights and privileges, far beyond what was granted you as a courtesan.”
“Neither the man nor the place of my enslavement were my choice.” Her voice became angry.
The voices grew closer, along with the sounds of heav
y feet thrashing through the undergrowth.
“Here I had hoped to find sanctuary with my goddess. But that too has been stolen from me.” Slowly, almost painfully Sha’awna pushed herself to sit.
“Which goddess do you worship?” Katya asked urgently. “This place feels so familiar, I am so comfortable here, this almost might be the last resting place of—” She broke off, unwilling to say the name aloud. “Who do you follow, Sha’awna?”
“I...” Sha’awna drew herself straighter and stared blankly in the direction of the crowd approaching them.
A short man with big hands and feet, dressed in dark blue robes, swooped down upon them. He gathered Sha’awna into his arms and showered kisses over her sunburned face, smoothing her grimy hair.
Katya pointedly released the silken cord from her wrist and handed it to Sha’awna.
“Here, here is the rest of your bounty for bringing my one true love to me,” the prince said, fumbling at his waist for a heavy purse. He thrust it into Katya’s hands without looking at her. “Come, my sweet. We will rest here tonight and return to my city on the morrow.” He continued to cover her face with kisses as he rose, bringing her into his arms to carry her back to camp.
A bubble of something like pride, or maybe the end of a friendship, burst inside Katya.
Choice. She had choices in her life. Dangerous ones. Sometimes distasteful ones, sometimes glorious ones. But they were hers and hers alone. She had enemies. Enemies she could choose to run from or confront.
Her choice.
Without a backward glance she marched ahead of Sha’awna and her adoring prince, grabbed the reins of her still loaded camels and turned back the way she had come, across the ford, onto the dangerous and winding path along the river.
“Kat, where are you going?” Cannik ran up beside her.
“Lady Sha’awna was right,” Katya said softly. Then, turning to look at Cannik, she answered him in a stronger voice. “My job here is finished, my friend. It is time now for me to go home and confront my enemies. I need to do this. I choose to do this. I will run from them no more.”
Fantastical Ramblings Page 6