“In time, Jona. First things first.” Mohan held the coin with the fingers of his left hand and grabbed it with his right. He blew into his right and then opened it, revealing his empty palm. Eyes wide, he reached to a young girl and produced the coin from behind her ear.
“Show me! Show me!” the little girl squealed.
“This is a very simple trick. What makes it successful is the way you present it.” Mohan glanced at Ilythra. “And I’ll tell you how to do that, after you’ve done your chores.”
The group groaned.
“Off with you now.” Mohan laughed.
A few of the older boys whispered to each other as they walked past Ilythra.
“Teaching the next generation?”
Mohan shrugged. “They’re Benai. Farmers teach their sons to work the soil, Benai teach their sons to work a crowd. We are getting ready for the performance tonight. Tomorrow morning, before dawn, they’re leaving.”
“You read my mind. We’ll head out when the troupe does.”
“Are you done with the healer?”
“Her name is Liera.”
“Yes, I know.” Mohan stared into the distance, his ready grin absent.
Was he worried about his brother? Sad to leave his troupe, or was there something else bothering the Benai? She thought of his laughter only a moment before. “Would you like to have a son of your own?” Ilythra asked.
Mohan glanced sharply. “I could ask you the same.”
She shrugged, surprised at the sharp sting of regret caused by his words. She didn’t see children in her future. “You could.”
“In order to have a son, I must first have a wife. There’s no Benai woman in my mind or heart, and it would take a special woman to lead this life.”
“Married to the job.”
“What?”
“You’re committed to your troupe.”
Mohan laughed. “You see, milady, we are two of a kind. The only thing lacking is a warm bed on cold, lonely nights. A situation we could rectify together.” He raised his eyebrows, dark eyes sparkling.
Ilythra smiled. Mohan without a grin was like a day without the sun. “If you continue using those lines, you’ll never find a wife.” They walked a distance from camp. “Besides, a warm bed would require a home, and I have none nor am I likely to acquire one in the near future.” She cleared her throat. “I have all the supplies I need.”
“And have you given Liera some needed confidence?”
“You’re astute for a man.”
“I never know when you’ve insulted or complimented me.”
“Then I take it back. Yes, she only needed some confidence. In time, when the grief is not so near, she’ll remember all the things her grandmother taught her.”
Mohan placed a hand on her shoulder. “And in time, you will have those things your heart desires too.” His dark gaze bore into hers. “I’ll say my goodbyes.”
Mohan walked back to the troupe, his stride long and sure. He was wrong. She had a task, a job to do, one that at times seemed impossible. She no longer had the luxury of dreams or desires.
* * *
“Are you coming? They’ll be back soon.”
Ilythra glanced up from the pot she was stirring. “Mmm?”
Mohan let out a gust of air. “We sent a juggler and a horse performer into town. They’ll lead the people out here for the performance.”
She hadn’t slept well. She couldn’t remember if she’d dreamed, but a lingering unease shadowed her upon waking. “Where are they going to perform?”
“In the field, a little distance from the wagons.”
She did want to see the Benai in action. Maybe it’ll snap me out of this mood. “I’ll be there as soon as this sets.”
Mohan nodded and then disappeared from view.
Ilythra turned to Liera. “Are you going?”
“Yes. My grandmother always sold her herbs at any town gathering, so I will too.” She hefted a cloth-covered basket. A new determination had entered the girl’s eyes.
Ilythra nodded. “Hand me that jar and we’ll get going.”
A crowd had already gathered when Ilythra and Liera approached. The Benai had set a semicircle of benches in the field, and several women were walking through the crowd with baskets similar to Liera’s, selling meat pies and small loaves of bread. Three jugglers entertained the townspeople. Every so often, they’d throw all the balls in the air and change places. The crowd clapped or laughed in response. Ilythra stood at the back of the gathering as four young men rode up on prancing horses. In unison, the horses bowed then reared up on their hind legs. The crowd gasped.
Liera mingled, selling her wares with the rest of the Benai but frequently glancing across the crowd. Ilythra followed her gaze. Mohan was giving last-minute instruction to the little boy who would perform his first magic act. Mohan is blind. The girl was obviously head over heels for him, but the Benai was oblivious. For a moment she considered intervening then thought better of it. I’m not a matchmaker.
The performances went off without a hitch, and the crowd left happy and full as the sun brushed the tops of the trees before its final descent. Ilythra found Mohan near the wagons, beaming.
“What do you think?” he asked when he saw her, his eyes as eager as a little boy’s.
What did she think? She smiled in memory. Never had she seen anything like it. The Benai were a well-disciplined and talented group. “It was wonderful.”
“Good. Come into town and celebrate with me?”
“No. I want to spend some time with Taliba before they leave in the morning.”
“Stood up for a Cailech by a Cailech. But I understand. I want to be here to say goodbye so I’ll make it an early night.”
“Does that mean you won’t keep me up all night with your drunken snoring?”
He reached for a tendril of her hair and twirled in around his finger. “If you want me to keep you up all night, I’ve got a more interesting way in mind.”
Ilythra smiled. “If I ever took you up on your offer, you’d fall down in a faint.”
Mohan leaned closer, his breath warm on her skin. “Perhaps, but when I got up again, I’d be a happy man and you, my lady, would be a satisfied woman.”
“Oh, be off with you.”
Mohan smiled and touched his forehead before he joined the crowd walking back to town. She turned toward Taliba’s wagon, wondering if Mohan knew that, from time to time, his offers sounded tempting.
Chapter Six
The lamps couldn’t improve the tavern’s dark and musty atmosphere. Thick black smoke rose through their clay chimneys so covered in soot it wasn’t possible to tell if they’d ever had any other color. A few men looked up as she entered, their smirks dying as she met their gaze. Ilythra wanted them certain she was no wife looking for her husband. Throughout the years, she’d discovered that one couldn’t enter hostile territory showing weakness. And for most women, taverns were wild country. That she was looking for a man irritated her. Mohan had not returned from celebrating, and she was worried. She’d spent the greater part of the night lying awake with a feeling in her gut that something was not right. Now, still several hours shy of dawn, she strode forward, ignoring the sour smell of rotting timbers soaked in spilled ale—both before and after it had been in a stomach.
A large man sat at the end of a short counter, dark hair spewing down a raw leather short coat and over his face to dangle in his cup of ale. Ilythra stepped to the far end of the counter, where she could see both in front and behind the grubby wooden divider, and placed a coin on the stained surface. Not so large to cause a stir, but large enough to get the barkeep’s attention. It did. A small man stepped through a door and sauntered over. His pinched face seemed frozen in an expression of pain. Greasy blond hair
hung to his jaw. He measured her from head to toe before reaching out for the coin.
“What can I getcha?”
“Information.”
“We don’t sell that here.” His eyes became guarded.
“I need to know if a man has been here, a Benai.”
Ilythra didn’t miss a quick glance toward the back of the room before the man continued in his easy drawl. “A taste for Benai? Got some nice farmers wouldn’t mind giving you a try.”
Of all the... She didn’t have time for this. Ilythra let a small smile touch her face as she leaned over the counter, focusing her energy on the man, pinning him with her gaze. “No thanks, I’ll stick with the Benai. Was he here?”
The man swallowed. “Can’t rightly say. I’m not their mammy.”
Casually, Ilythra turned her back to the counter, leaned against it and gazed out over the customers engaged in serious drinking, except for a dark-haired man wedged in a back corner and attempting not to watch her at the bar. She didn’t like it. “You know,” she began in a conspiratorial voice. “It’d be a real pity to hurt you. I mean, kinda looks like you’re doing good business tonight. What do you say? Tell me when he was here and I’ll leave you standing.”
She spun behind the bar next to the barkeep, one hand thrown across his shoulder as though to whisper into his ear. The counter shielded the knife she held at his crotch from the crowded tavern.
“I...uh.” Sweat broke out on the barkeep’s forehead.
“I’m sorry. What was that?” Her breath didn’t stir the barkeep’s lank hair.
“He was here earlier, drank a few cups and left.”
Ilythra pressed a little harder.
“Er, Jamen and his friends left right after.” He nodded toward the man in the back corner. “That there’s his younger brother—go ask him.”
“Why, thank you. I think I will. Now go back in there—” she indicated the door to the kitchen with her head, “—and fortify yourself.”
Ilythra stepped out into the night, swearing under her breath. What had Mohan got himself into? Did he try to seduce the wrong man’s woman? A flutter of uneasiness gripped her chest as she walked around the building and waited. After a few heartbeats, the dark-haired man emerged, glanced up and down the street and then hurried away. Ilythra followed.
Once he was well enough away from the lights of the tavern, she caught up and kicked his legs out from under him. The man rolled, struggling at his side for a short sword.
“You should have had it in your hand before you left the lights.” Ilythra held the tip of her sword under his chin. “I don’t have much time and less patience. Where would they have taken him?”
A stain spread along his trousers. “Old River Road.”
“And where is that?”
He pointed in the direction he had been running. “P-p-past the gnarled pine that looks like a fist. There’s...there’s a trail. Turn left at the fork. You’ll hear the river. There.”
“Do I have to say what will happen to you if you’re lying?”
“No. No, ma’am.”
Ilythra sheathed her sword. “When you wake up, go home.” She pulled him forward with one hand and punched him in the jaw with the other.
The man fell back to the ground, unconscious.
* * *
Clouds scuttled across the night sky like ghosts jealous of starlight, and wind soughed through dark leaves, shadowing the trail from a waning moon. Ilythra moved silently, every nerve alert. She’d followed the dark-haired man’s instructions, partly amused to find out the gnarled pine looked just like a fist.
The forest was too quiet. No sounds of animals scampering beneath the underbrush or night birds jumping from branch to branch, calling to their mates. Even the insects had hushed. Leaves dancing with the wind and faint gurgles of water in the distance were the only noises.
As the river’s voice grew, she slowed. Soon she could make out the sound of male laughter ahead. When a cloud covered the moon, she moved, looking for a shelter that wouldn’t encumber her view. Six men stood, guffawing and sharing a flask over a dark form. As her eyes adjusted, she saw the lump was Mohan, his hands and feet tied together. Even from this distance, she could see anger gleam in his eyes.
One of the men kicked dirt over him. “We taught him a lesson. Now what are we gonna do with him?”
“Throw him in the river,” another man responded, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.
“Could do, could do. Problem is the girl. We don’t want no Benai trash here sullying our women, but he brought his own this time.” He kicked Mohan. “Who is she?”
“Heard she was a healer.” One of the men answered when Mohan didn’t.
“We already got a healer in this town. Don’t need no more.”
Grumbles washed over the group.
One of the men kicked Mohan. “She ain’t Benai, so we know you already been poking at women who ain’t your kind.”
Mohan spat at the man who seemed to be the leader.
Ilythra moved her hand to her sword as the man kicked him again.
“Throw him in the river.”
“Will he be missed?” The man wiped his mouth. “Don’t need the liege lord sniffin’ ’round here.”
“For a Benai?” another voice said. “Not likely.” There was a snort. “Listen, if anyone comes to look for ‘im, we can always say we didn’t see ‘im.”
“What about the Cailech?”
A shrug. “What about her? He went off to get drunk. She never saw him again. I mean, he’s a Benai.”
Damn it. This was getting serious. Mohan was a good fighter, but trussed like a chicken he wasn’t going to be much help. Ilythra let the men debate Mohan’s fate while slipping stealthily toward the river, veering to where she’d spotted an opening in the clearing. A cloud unveiled the moon’s face to reveal a golden twisting trail leading toward the river. She followed it a short distance. Thick branches snaked over the dirt path, making the footing treacherous. The trail dipped several times, so steep in areas that she had to walk down on the sides of her boots. Not the ideal path for a stroll and not one that would make it an easy job to carry a grown man either, however trim.
She maneuvered to a bend in the trail and paused. The sounds of grunts and oaths sounded behind her as the men struggled down the path. Guess they decided you needed a bath, Mohan. A conclusion she knew they’d come to when she’d first heard them arguing. Carefully, she climbed a tree and scooted onto a bough reaching over the path. She stretched out, hugging her body to the branch. A careful observer would have noticed the tree limb was thicker than it should be—she was didn’t think these men fell into that category. It was a narrow path. They couldn’t attack her in unison. She had a chance.
Mohan’s captors stumbled down the path an instant later. She was in luck. The second-to-last one held Mohan, and the men walked several paces away from one another. She waited until they’d all passed beneath her except the last man. When he neared her hiding place, she swung down, catching him full in the chest with her feet and driving the wind out of him. Still holding on to the branch, she landed quietly on path, moved to the downed man and hit him on the head with the handle of her knife. He’d have a headache in the morning. She froze, but the man holding Mohan didn’t turn.
Breathing a sigh of relief, she followed. Mohan looked up from his perch across the man’s shoulder and his eyes widened. She lifted three fingers, made a fist and waited. Mohan blinked.
She hoped he knew what he was agreeing to. She extended one then two fingers. At three, Mohan rolled his body to the side. His captor lurched, unprepared for the movement. Ilythra rushed forward to aid gravity and knock him off his feet.
Mohan landed in a heap while she quickly rendered the man unconscious. She rushed to Mohan, cut his wrist bonds and
tossed him the knife, turning just in time for the first of Mohan’s conscious captors to realize something was wrong. Blades gleamed under the light of the fickle moon.
Shit. What did I get myself into? Sword in hand, Ilythra kicked the first man’s sword from his hand, pivoted on her foot then swept his feet out from under him. She raised her sword to block a thrust of another man and ran her blade across his stomach. Spinning in time to meet the next man’s rush, she blocked the blade and reached to pull his sword arm closer to slam an elbow in his face, twirled and kicked his head.
Pain exploded in her ankle. She stumbled, trying to keep her balance. One of the fallen men kicked at her again. She sidestepped and threw her knife. It embedded in his shoulder. She quickly brought the pommel of her sword down on his head. He collapsed in a heap.
Two more approached, swords drawn. By the gods! Are they multiplying? She could still hear the whimpers of the man with her knife in his shoulder. One of them must not have been as unconscious as she hoped. She deflected a weak thrust, punched the nearest in the throat then brought his head to her knee as the gleam of a raised sword blinked in the corner of her eye. Ilythra met the attack, parried his effort and hacked his neck.
Having lost count, she whirled on the toes of her boots, her sword swishing at waist level. She halted, feet splayed, to glance around. Three men lay still. Over the noisy gurgle of the fourth choking in his own blood, she heard someone struggle.
Ilythra whirled around and her ankle almost gave out.
Mohan half stood and threw off pieces of rope. She took a deep breath, ignoring the throbbing pain, and retrieved her knife with a slurping sound. She ripped the man’s shirt and handed him the cloth. “Hold it there. It’ll stop the bleeding. And will you shut up? I can’t hear myself think.”
The whites of the man’s eyes glowed in the faint light of the moon.
“What, you didn’t leave me any?” Mohan limped toward her, one of the fallen men’s swords in his hand.
“Sorry, next time I’ll wait.” She drew near the Benai and squinted in the scant light. His face was swelling and the beginnings of bruises colored his skin. “They really worked you over.”
Shawna Thomas Page 7