The horses halted in front of us. Braylar said, flatly, “Sister.”
“Brother,” Soffjian replied. She looked over her shoulder at Benk just behind her and then back to the captain. “While I do appreciate the armed guards, it was hardly necessary. I do not require protection. And if I’d intended to attack, I can assure you they would hardly have slowed me down.”
Mulldoos looked ready to spit, and then reconsidered, given how challenging that was proving of late. “Memoridons got no immunity to weapons. Just ask your dead sister.”
Soffjian took Mulldoos in, head cocked slightly, and if he felt uncomfortable beneath her gaze, he gave no sign. Then she said, “Well, Rusejenna cannot argue your point. Though it appears she struck first, and hard. Let me guess. Limbs not working properly, blurry vision, dizziness, fatigue, half that horrible mouth of yours frozen to muddle your words, and an even worse disposition?”
Mulldoos laid his hand on the pommel of his falchion. “Only need one good limb, you mouthy bitch.”
“And I need less than that to dispose of the likes of you.” She eyed him up and down. “Especially in your current condition. You have spittle on your chin.”
Azmorgon boomed a laugh. “She’s got you there, Mully. Sounds like you got wet mushrooms in your mouth, and you been hamstrung real good too.”
Mulldoos didn’t bother looking up at the lieutenant. “Watch your plaguing tongue, Ogre.”
“Sure thing, Mushrooms. Sure thing.”
Before Mulldoos could respond, Soffjian turned her attention back to her brother. “But I didn’t come here to squabble with you or your men or to do battle. In fact, I could do with a rest. I’ve developed an unhealthy habit of coming to your rescue, though it appears I did not do nearly enough. How many men do you have remaining?” She looked back at the Jackals soldiers. “One hundred and fifty? Perhaps a few more than that?”
Braylar smiled, or snarled; sometimes it was difficult to tell the difference. “Perhaps. But depleted or not, you clearly have assisted us. There is no doubt on that count. The question, as always, is one of motivation. Just as you did in the plague village, and on the road home against the Hornmen, you do nothing without being driven by the ulterior. So. Why did you help us escape from Sunwrack, sweet sister?”
She swung her leg over and dropped from the saddle, as ever, with grace and no small amount of haughtiness, despite being covered in dust and looking tired beyond measure. “I’d pretend to be wounded, but I simply don’t have the energy for games. Helping you escape was the least of it, really.”
Braylar looked intrigued. “Oh? And how is that?”
She pulled her ranseur out of the long leather sleeve on the side of her horse and dropped it over her shoulder. “Would you be so kind as to have one of your men tend to my horse, Bray? I’m afraid I didn’t think to bring a second mount, and he could do with some care. I’d do it myself, but beyond fielding your questions, I will also need to rest. And food. I’ve been in the saddle for most of the last two days, and have barely closed my eyes.”
Mulldoos was not sympathetic. “What makes you think you’re riding with us? You’re licking Cynead’s hairy jewels now, which makes you the enemy, no matter what you did in Sunwrack.”
“Which makes me doubly glad you are not leading the troops,” she replied. “While my brother is stubborn to the point of madness, he does very little without considering things from all angles. One of his few redeeming qualities, really.”
Azmorgon spoke, his voice rumbly and growly and difficult to discern, like it belonged to a brown bear that had somehow learned human speech but utterly failed to master enunciation and clarity. “You going to let her squawk at you like that, Cap.”
“Her squawk, loathsome as it is, has the ring of truth to it.” Braylar pointed at one of the soldiers who had dismounted and was standing at attention. “Many thanks for escorting my sister. Please take her horse and treat it as your own. While her tenure here could prove incredibly short, let it never be said we are poor hosts for the duration.”
The Syldoon saluted and while he looked none too happy, said, “Aye, Cap,” before taking the reins.
Soffjian nodded. “Many thanks.” And then she seemed to catch herself as she looked at our small group. “I see the Ogre there, of course, but where is Hewspear? I do hope Rusejenna didn’t strike him down. Of all of you, I enjoyed his company the most.”
Vendurro replied, “Alive. But Rusejenna husked him good. He hasn’t come to at all. Not even stirred a little. Can you help him with that?”
Mulldoos gave the sergeant a black look with his good eye and Vendurro held up his hands. “Memory magic done him in, maybe it can help him, too. You ain’t seen him lately, Mull, but it’s bad. Real bad.”
Soffjian gave a small, sad smile. “I can take a look at him. But I am skilled in the art of rending, shredding, and destroying. Repair is best left to those with more tender talents. If Skeelana hadn’t proved herself a serpent, she would be my first suggestion.” Vendurro’s face fell and she reiterated, “I will look, though. I will look.”
Mulldoos used his good arm to push Vendurro back. “Sergeant here ain’t speaking for us, witch. Cap’ll decide who looks at what around here. It were me, you’d get a good look at the bottom of my boot and nothing more.”
“I’m sorry,” Soffjian said, “I couldn’t quite make that out. It sounds as if you have half a loaf of soggy bread in your mouth.”
“Go fuck a leper, you haughty—”
Braylar shouted, “Enough, the both of you!” When Mulldoos and Soffjian remarkably held their tongues, he continued, “Now. As much as I enjoy and even admire a good dissemble, Soff, the laws of hospitality dictate that good guests would do well to answer direct questions with direct answers. You said there was more beyond clearing our path. Explain.”
Soffjian nodded. “So I did. I have been following you the last two days, trying to scrub the land clean of any of your memory debris you leave behind.” She looked at Vendurro. “As I said, far better at obliterating than healing.” Then she turned back to Braylar. “While I was there when a good chunk of this company was hung, there are Memoridons bonded to the rest, and surely Cynead has them trying to track you. So I cleared your trail as much as I could, and picked up pieces of it and scattered them around further afield, hoping to prevent any other Memoridons from hounding you. I cannot promise it will work. You have a lot of men. And while I disregarded any memory trails I could have hunted myself, that still left a large number. Have I mentioned that I haven’t slept?”
“You did,” Braylar replied. “And yet you still haven’t answered my question, sister. And I’m afraid until you do, you cannot remain in this camp. Why do you help us? You are beholden to Cynead now. You are either attempting to betray him or play us, and neither would prove a wise move.”
She turned back around and faced us, the lightning bolt of a vein pulsing in her forehead. “No. Forgive me. As I said, I am exhausted.” Soff lowered the ranseur and stuck the butt spike in the earth. “I would have guessed my actions in Sunwrack spoke for themselves. But I will not live under Cynead’s yoke. It was difficult enough being controlled by a Tower Commander, but at least Darzaak is a fair man. Honorable, if hard. Now that Cynead is unopposed and unchecked, his ambitions are limitless. He will lead the Syldoon to ruin, and with them, all Memoridons leashed to his hand. You are fighting against that, as is Thumaar, I suspect. So I fall in with you. Not out of any loyalty to you, of course. I have none. But because I see no other choice.”
Braylar twitch-smiled and said, “You do know that’s exactly what we would have done, if we had somehow made the discovery first? We would have bound you all to Thumaar.”
“I have no illusions, brother, and I am no fool. Of course I assumed such was the case. And perhaps all men would become tyrants with unchecked power in time. Still, the deposed emperor is more temperate and less likely to abuse. With Cynead, it would be immediate. Irreversible. He will lead us to
ruin. That, I am certain of. Your outfit might possess the means of stripping him of that power.”
“Horseshit,” Mulldoos said, sounding drunk. “Ain’t buying it, Cap.”
Soffjian looked at him. “Careful, Lieutenant. You are slobbering again.”
“And you got caltrops in your cunny. But you’re holding back, sure as spit.”
“There you go again with those troublesome esses.”
The captain snapped, “Enough of this. I share his skepticism, Soff. While I have no doubt that you do not want Cynead holding the chains that bind you, I strongly suspect you want no chains at all.”
She nodded slowly. “Who among us wants chains, brother? I risk a great deal on this gamble. Everything, in fact.” She pulled a sealed scroll out of a pouch on her belt and handed it to her bother. “Darzaak assured me you were close. That your scribe there,” she said, looking at me with those intense and disconcerting eyes, “was on the cusp of unraveling mysteries, unlocking the secret. So I agreed to throw my lot in with you, broke the blockade in Sunwrack, and I am here now.”
Braylar cracked the wax seal, flicked the pieces off, and began to read. “That seems decidedly rash, for one so prone to evaluating everything coldly and deliberately. The good Commander might have oversold our ability to break any chains, let alone reforge them.”
Soffjian laughed. “Be that as it may. What’s done is done. I am here now. And as you can read, Darzaak promised that if I aid you, I will be freed forever.”
Braylar passed the scroll to Mulldoos. “And how long do you have, sister?”
She returned his hard look in kind. “Two tenday. Maybe less. I’ve never tested the limits before.”
I asked, “How long until what?”
No one answered right away, and then Vendurro cleared his throat. When that was met with more silence, he said, hesitantly, “Memoridons got to report back to the Tower that controls them. Or this case, Emperor. While Syldoon always had Memoridons to chase them down if they went missing, the Memoridons themselves got a whole different reason for having to fly back to the coop.”
“OK. What does that mean? What compels them? Clearly it isn’t loyalty.”
As soon as the words were out of my mouth I wanted to recall them, but Soffjian laughed a short mirthless laugh and replied, “Isn’t that the truth. No, it is forced fealty, Arki. A Memoridon has to return to the frame, in this case, held by the Emperor.”
“And what happens if she doesn’t return?”
Soffjian favored me with a mirthless smile. “If a Memoridon goes too long without reporting back, convening with the frame, there will be a surge, and one of two things will happen. Her powers will be burnt out of her forever. Or she herself will be snuffed out. So. I do hope you translate quickly. Now I need to rest before continuing to scrub our trail clean. With your leave, brother.”
Soffjian gave a small bow and turned on her heel, and began striding away before actually waiting to hear what Braylar said.
Mulldoos held his tongue until she was out of earshot and then turned to Braylar. “You ain’t really thinking of trusting her, are you, Cap?”
Braylar was watching a hawk circle lazily far above us as he replied, “Can you trust a viper to sheathe its fangs?”
“Well, maybe not the smartest move to wear one around your neck then.” It was difficult to hear his words eliding wetly, but while most people would have been self-conscious, Mulldoos soldiered on as if he weren’t afflicted at all, only looking more prone to violence than usual as his mouth betrayed him, but making no move to talk less or pay attention to how muddled he sounded. Perhaps Braylar’s speech had inspired him, but I suspected he would have kept talking out of pure spite regardless, especially after Soffjian taunted him.
Braylar tore his gaze away from the circling hawk. “She is dangerous, there is no dispute, but she has proved invaluable on two occasions now, instrumental in saving us.”
“And you,” Vendurro offered, and then looked sheepish as the captain glared at him. “Well, it was mostly Skeelana on that score. But—” the captain’s glare sharpened. “Yeah, she saved us all twice.”
Mulldoos shook his head, and that much at least without impediment or difficulty. “Can’t train a snake, Cap. Only a matter of time before she sinks her teeth into your neck.”
Azmorgon rumbled. “Aye. Me and Mushrooms agree on that score.”
Mulldoos flashed the massive lieutenant a hateful look as Vendurro said, “I saw a Gurtagese once, had a box full of snakes. And they seemed to mind him well enough. Doing tricks, even. Tying themselves in knots on command. Never seen anything else like it. People throwing money at him, dumbfounded they were.”
The pale lieutenant looked ready to spit and thought better of it. “If it wasn’t a horse that kicked you in the head, it I can’t figure what knocked your brain box loose.” He returned his attention to the captain. “Hew were here, he’d say just what I’m saying. I didn’t like having her around when she was a Jackal. But now—”
Braylar cut him off, “Now her fate is tangled with ours. Soffjian has broken with the Emperor just as we have, though for reasons of her own. She is no less an outcast and branded traitor. And for the now, that makes her a useful tool and uneasy ally. One that could prove valuable again.”
Mulldoos shook his big head again. “Tools don’t hate, Cap. Same ain’t true of your sister.” And then he walked off, though with one leg seemingly at odds with the other.
Azmorgon shook his hoary head, chuckling. “You got a bitch of a sister, Cap. Right bitchy, she is. But she gives Mushrooms the business. Entertaining as hell, that.”
Vendurro said, “You got a queer sense of fun, you do.”
Azmorgon replied, “Wouldn’t be the first I’ve heard that, Squirrel.”
There was a silence as we watched both lieutenants leave. Vendurro broke it by saying. “Weren’t making that up. About the snakes. Saw it with my own eyes. He had them doing tricks that just weren’t snakelike at all. Unnatural. But Mulldoos got one thing right—a brass viper bit the handler right in the eye. Poor bastard’s whole head swelled up, skin turned black and purple. Died screaming. So, yeah, snakes are real dangerous.”
Braylar laughed, and while it was abrupt and disappeared so quickly it was easy to think I’d only imagined it, it sounded like he was genuinely amused. But then he stood there silently, gazing off towards the placid polished lake with so many dead things littering the shore, like sacrifices made by foolish locals. Or perhaps by the lake itself. And the levity was gone as he said, “Nothing is certain, save death. The only mystery is the means and who bears witness.”
With that, he turned and walked away as well.
Vendurro waited until he was out of earshot before giving a low whistle. “It was just a snake.”
I replied, “This animosity between the captain and his sister—”
“Hatred, more like. Animosity sounds way too plaguing polite to cover it.”
“Hatred then,” I agreed. “But it is obviously more involved than a failed attempt to revenge his father. They were only children, and Soffjian mentioned something that sounded like it occurred years later, with the Syldoon. Do you know anything about that?”
“Happened before I was a Jackal,” he replied. “Cap was never one to talk about it. Which meant no one else was one to talk about it either. So can’t rightly say. And you’d have bigger jewels than the snake handler if you ask him about it.” He slapped me on the back. “Come on. Figure you got some penning or reading of some kind to do. Best get to it and get some rest. Figure tomorrow won’t be no shorter than today.”
I returned to the wagon and recorded the events of the day and then translated by lamplight until I couldn’t fight sleep off any longer and collapsed into an ink-stained heap. But as usual, my bladder got the best of me and roused me sometime before dawn. It always seemed to conspire against me like that, no matter how exhausted I was or how little I drank before collapsing.
I tos
sed and turned under my thin blanket, hoping I could fall back asleep, but my bladder was insistent, so I cursed quietly, threw the blanket aside, and clambered out of the wagon. As expected, most of our makeshift camp was asleep, some in the handful of wagons, but most in small wedge tents or huddled masses around the campfires that had died out.
There were plenty of guards posted around the perimeter, and I knew Captain Killcoin had mounted men screening the countryside to alert us of any hostile advances. Still, even with those assurances, it was peculiar to walk among a sleeping camp. All these violent men in repose, the entire camp silent. A few Syldoon who were guarding a line of picketed horses saw me, one nodding, the other two ignoring me. And again I was reminded that soldiering seemed to be nine parts boredom—waiting, training, erecting or pulling down camps, tedious chores, moving—and one part horrible, sudden, and irrevocable violence.
I shivered and headed into a thicket of reeds. I was unlacing my hosen when I looked down the small incline towards the placid lake and saw a lone figure there along the shore, still as stone.
After relieving myself, I nearly walked back towards the wagon to get back under the covers, hoping for one more blessed hour of sleep before Braylar gave the command to pack up and get moving again, but as usual, my curiosity got the better of me just as often as my bladder.
I walked towards the lake, wondering who else found it as fascinating as I did. As I got closer, I should have guessed. Even with everything in shades of gray, I saw moonlight glinting off the tines of the ranseur. That should have stopped me immediately and sent me back up the hill, but for some reason my feet kept me moving forward.
Soffjian surely heard my footfalls and the tiny cascade of pebbles, but didn’t seem especially alarmed or concerned. She was also much better at guessing. Still facing the water, she said, “My brother does have a talent for finding lonely locales. And you seem to have a habit of meeting Memoridons in the dark of night. I would curb that if I were you.”
That seemed designed to drive me off, and should have really, but failed. I took a few more hesitant steps, knowing I wouldn’t have too many opportunities to speak with her without arousing suspicion or animosity among the Syldoon. “No, you Memoridons are dangerous to be certain. But I don’t think I was the only one surprised that Skeelana threw in her lot with the Emperor like that.”
Chains of the Heretic Page 3