Ciellon said, "Oh my. We must head back, or we'll miss the noon meal."
Ghosh looked up, startled to realize it was past midday.
"You will take lunch with me? After we've both cleaned up a bit."
No sense in missing a meal. "Certainly, Master Ciellon."
"Honored, mistress. Damned honored. There's one for both Ghologhoshes." He paused. "Ghosh...do you have a place to stay tonight?"
Well, she thought, finally. "No, master."
"Ciellon will do. Then, I would be pleased to guest you this evening. Our room's big enough for a regiment."
"I—"
"Don't answer me now," Ciellon said. "I warn you, I shall insist on taking afternoon tea with you. It's my inflexible custom. Decide then."
•
Wrapping a borrowed linen robe around herself, Ghologhosh came out of the bath into Ciellon's room, which was in fact enormous. Ciellon was standing by the picture window, looking out at the Saltmarsh, as a man who has lost something precious into the sea will stare at the waves, knowing they give nothing back.
"Your clothes are rather far gone," Ciellon said. "Somewhere in that trunk there must be a shirt and pants that will fit you, with a little judicious sashing. You don't wear shoes, I take it?"
"No. But I don't—borrow things."
Ciellon said, "Then it isn't a loan. Though your things are where you left them." He pointed with his cane.
Ghosh did not refuse gifts outright. She found a black blouse of heavy fabric—winter was coming—and green trousers similar to her old ones. Her belts and gear did not appear to have been touched, her knives all in place.
Jagg came in then with lunch, and Ciellon began to talk again, and then suddenly it was the end of the afternoon.
"Tea," Ciellon said. "Shall we take it downstairs, in the parlor? I need a small change of scene. And then you may leave, or not."
Ghosh saw Zal the innkeeper look up as they entered the parlor, running fingers over the bald side of her head. As they passed, Ghosh heard a few words of the Second Prayer to Bree Amal the Great Madam, which is: May These Events Not Cost Thy Servant Money.
Zal najhi Zal showed Ciellon, Ghosh. and Jagg to a table with a sea view. 'Tea, master?" she said, with just a little too much deference.
"Tea, innkeeper," Ciellon said. "I think the Incense of Fair Memory."
"I would have you know, master," Zal said with pride, "that at great expense we have procured a small quantity of the rare Tea of Worrynot."
Ghosh stared.
Ciellon said, "That's very nice, innkeeper. But I've made my own arrangements about that. I suggest you save it for the appropriate occasion."
To Ghosh's surprise, Ciellon did not talk during teatime. None of them did. Ciellon looked at Ghosh with an unreadable expression, Jagg looked at Ciellon in an even blanker way, and Ghosh tried to look out the window at the declining light.
Ciellon said, "Well, Ghologhosh?" More from curiosity than anything else, she said, "I would be honored, mas—Ciellon."
The wizard nodded, waved Zal najhi Zal to the table. "Innkeeper. Please add the surcharge for an additional guest in my rooms."
There was only one bed. Ciellon slept in it. Jagg took a heap of silks and furs from a trunk, and another for Ghosh, and they slept curled up in those, all quite far from one another in the enormous room, its picture window silvery with faint moonlight off the sea.
Ghosh slept as she had never done in her life. Until the dream came. The voice, and the hand— Her eyes snapped open. She did not stir. The dream—she could not remember the dream.
There was a black shape against the silver window. It was Ciellon in his nightshift, leaning against the sill as if a weight were crushing his shoulders. Ghosh could hear his voice, very faintly, speaking in rhythm. A ritual spell? she wondered, and then she heard the song:
Call to thee, Harmony, Saltmarsh's daughter,
Drink to our faith in a cup of salt water.
Come to me, Harmony, promise unspoken,
Follow your faith where the marsh reeds lie broken.
Never be, Harmony, healed or forgiven,
Salt in the wound where the promise was riven.
Ciellon turned away from the window. Ghosh held entirely still: she could feign sleep for a long time. It had saved her life more than once. Her knife was naturally at her fingertips.
Ciellon leaned over her. He touched her hair, ran his fingers through it. He knelt. He spoke some words she did not understand. He kissed her on the temple. Then he stood up slowly and got back into his bed.
Ghosh lay very quiet in her sleeping bundle. She was entirely awake. She was more than awake. She was beginning to remember. First a trickle. Then a stream. Then a flood. Ais Ariom's house. The Hrothvekan wizard. The Regent. Kory. The pain.
She opened her mouth in a noiseless scream and stood up in the silks, slashing herself free, and before Jagg or Ciellon could move, she was racing down the hall, down the stairs, away from the Sea Eagle and into the twisting alleys of Liavek.
•
Kory woke to a hammering on the door. He drew the sheath knife, stepped to the side, and opened the door: Ghologhosh half fell into the room. She was wearing new clothes and her knife was out.
"Plan," she said, "remember, stop." She twitched like a puppet on strings. "You, letter, they, plan, chemist, kill, wizard."
"What's happened to you?" Kory said. She was jumping, whirling her knife wildly.
"Spell," she shouted at him, "spell-spell, spell. Wizard. You, plan. Kill-not-kill."
"Calm down," Kory said. He put out his hands, saw the knife he held, dropped it. Ghosh dropped hers. "Sit down, Ghosh. Be calm. Sit-down-on-the-bed."
Ghosh sat, calmer but still shaking.
"Who did this to you?"
"Wizard," she said, and shook her head violently. "Nuhnuh-name. No-name wizard."
Kory understood then. It was a gag spell: Ghosh was under compulsion not to speak the name of the wizard responsible. "You said 'kill.' Kill who?"
"No-name-kill. But not-kill. No-name-not-kill." This was getting complicated. Kory had a sudden awful thought. "Who am I. Ghosh?"
"You. You-you-youyouyou! No-name-you. No-name-anybody."
Kory let out a breath. The compulsion extended to the names of everybody and everything. This was going to be very difficult. What else had Ghosh said? "You said 'letter.' Letter from—oh, sorry. What kind of letter?"
"Love letter," Ghosh said quite clearly, and looked surprised.
"Reed's letter?" Kory shouted. Ghosh spread her hands in a desperate gesture.
Kory thought. "Maps," he said suddenly. "I'll get my maps." He brought out the small stack of maps he used for courier work and unrolled them on the table. Ghosh staggered over, squinting in the lamplight. Kory pointed at the location of Reed's house. "Letter from here?"
Ghosh opened her mouth. She strained. There was only a squeaking sound. She held out her hands, but the fingers curled up.
This was getting serious. Apparently she couldn't even act to betray the—Conspiracy? Kory thought, and thought of the letter.
Ghosh had taken Reed home. Reed must have given Ghosh the letter. Then Ghosh had been grabbed right off the street—only the kidnappers missed the letter—
Some horrid Hrothvekan, the letter had said.
Some horrid Hrothvekan wizard.
Kory shuffled the maps until he found his chart of the southern roads. He spread it next to the city map. He pointed to Hrothvek with his left hand, with his right to the Sea Eagle Inn.
Ghosh gabbled and choked and kicked the table over. Kory barely saved the lamp as it fell.
"That's all you had to say," Kory said.
The shadow of The Vessel of Dreams still reached to the wharf when Kory pedaled his landsailer to the gangway. Leaving Ghosh still fidgeting in the passenger seat, Kory ran to the boat and pulled the FOR MEDICAL EMERGENCIES ONLY bellcord.
Thomorin Wiln appeared in a cloth coat tossed over his nig
htshirt. "I'm certain there's an explanation for this," he said.
"The man I brought in the other day—the blue one. Where are the things he ordered?"
"What business is that of yours?" Thomorin Wiln snapped, and looked at the end of the counter, where a small paper box sat. More mildly, the apothecary said, "Did he hire you to fetch them?"
Kory tensed. Ghosh had managed to choke out "One hundred levars." If the payment was due now, he was out of luck. "Yes," he said. "Sorry about the hour. He insisted."
Thomorin Wiln nodded. "I hardly blame him. Well, there it is. It's in glass, so be careful."
"I will."
Kory reached for the box. Thomorin Wiln caught Kory's wrist in his discolored hand. "I mean be careful, Kory-of-All-Trades. I used up all the prepared rapture flower in Liavek for that bottle, and it'll be ten days to ready more, plus the distillation time." He released Kory. 'The other wasn't so hard. I just don't get much call for it."
"I'll treat it well," Kory said.
Thomorin Wiln said, "I'm sure you will. Sorry, Kory. Too early."
"Sure."
"If you're going to start rising at this hour regularly, I still need some dawn spooks."
"Tomorrow."
"Fine. Oh. Tell the man a happy End of Wine, will you?"
The box wedged between his hip and Ghosh's, Kory drove up the canal to the first hridge, crossed, and pedaled back to the seashore, to an empty dock. He got out of the car, lifting the box; Ghosh sat quietly. Kory looked out at the water, the sails of the fishing fleet off Minnow Island. He opened the box. Inside were a slender flask full of pale golden liquid and a jar of blue-black leaves. The jar said INFUSION TAXALIN AZIFLORA (WORRYNOT TEA). The bottle was not labeled, but Thomorin Wiln had said enough. Rapture flower was the most potent narcotic Kory knew of. He remembered the wizard, the addict, slurping from his flask.
"Kill-not-kill," he said to Ghosh, who looked at him with unfocused eyes. Kory grasped the delicate flask, cocked his ann to throw it into the bay.
Ghosh moaned and struggled. She fell out of the car.
Kory lifted her back in. "We go to Wizard's Row next. I hope I can afford—" Suddenly he had a better idea than smashing the bottle. He went to the edge of the dock, pulled the ground-glass stopper, and poured the yellow liquid into the water, being careful to avert his face from the fumes. He hoped it did not poison the fish.
He refilled the bottle. Fortunately, it was not too large. Then he pedaled along the shoreline, almost to the Sea Eagle. "Wait here," he told Ghosh, who opened her mouth uselessly. "Back soon. With money."
Zal najhi Zal told Kory that Ciellon was on the beach walking. When Kory reached the shore, Jagg was standing soldierlike on the sand, watching the wizard, who stood some distance away, alone out in the Saltmarsh.
"Jagg," Kory said, and the blue man turned. "I've brought Ciellon's preparation. From Thomorin Wiln. I had some other deliveries, and I thought—"
"The master will thank you well," Jagg said. "But your friend, the small dark one? Ghologhosh. The master must see her."
"I'm sorry," Kory said, trying to choke down rage. "I don't have any idea where she is."
"The thing is important." Jagg turned. "Master! The master Korik Li is here!"
Ciellon looked up, waved his cane, started toward them.
"I have other deliveries," Kory said. "It's medicine, it won't wait," and he shoved the white box into Jagg's hands and ran, waiting for his heart to be stopped, lightning to strike him; but nothing happened. When he got back to the 'sailer, Ghosh had gotten out, and dragged herself along walls almost forty paces. Kory led her back to the car, half-carrying her. She seemed about to explode, like a gun stopped at the mouth.
"I'm sorry," Kory said to Ghosh. "I've brought what money I have. It'll have to do."
They drove to Wizard's Row—or rather, they tried. Wizard's Row was not there.
"Damn street's never around when you need it," Kory said. He spun the landsailer hard. Somebody dropped a parcel and swore at him. Someone else was interrupted in the middle of a pickpocketing; Kory saw the victim draw a pistol on the thief and he pedaled on hard, not listening for the bang. A few blocks on, he turned—and clearly saw the signs and rooftops of Wizard's Row.
"Happy birthday, Ghosh," Kory said, executed an illegal U-turn (knocking over a rubbish bin, which rolled into a one-legged beggar, who unfolded his other leg from his cloak and sprinted away), and pedaled for all he was worth.
There was no corner to turn. No signs, no rooftops. The Row was gone again. Kory looked at Ghosh, who looked miserable and furious. Kory pedaled on for a block, and got out of the car. "Wait," he said, and sprinted back toward the place where the street had been.
And still was, signs, roofs, dustbins, everything.
Kory stamped back to Ghosh, sighed. "That's a damned comprehensive spell. Is he a magician or a lawyer?" He looked at the sun. It had become terribly near midday. "I have to meet Reed, right away," he said.
Ghosh struggled. Tendons and veins stood out on her flesh. Her clothes were drenched in sweat. Kory reached out, cautiously, to her forehead. It burned. "I'll kill him," Kory said. "I don't care if he is a wizard. I'll stuff his luck right down his throat, and then I'll kill him.... I've got to get you home first. You'll be safe there. Ciellon doesn't know where I live."
Ghosh shivered and sweated.
By the time they reached Kory's room, Ghosh was too weak to walk. Kory carried her down the steps, kicked the door open, put her gently on the bed. He fumbled at her clothes, then let go and drew the blanket up to her chin.
She grabbed both his wrists, lifted her head. "You wrote letter," she rasped, "You wrote her letter?"
Kory nodded. "They're leaving for Hrothvek just after the noon meal for Dyelam's party. Reed'll have everything all packed. But there's a slight change in plans: she's going with me. To Saltigos. The marriage wiIl be Liavek-legal, and too late for Dyelam ais Ariom. And Company."
"Not her'" Ghosh said and fell back on the bed.
Kory was suddenly sad. "Always her and no one else but her," he said slowly. "I'm sorry you never understood, Ghosh." He backed away from her. "We wanted you to come to Saltigos with us, be our first witness...but..."
Ghosh's head rolled.
"We'll tell the City Guard where to find you. Ciellon—they'll take care of him, or I will. I—goodbye, Ghosh."
The door closed behind him.
•
Ghologhosh tried to rise, to run after him, but her arm would not lift, not a finger. The spell was like a wire snare: the harder she fought the more tightly it bound her. She could not even think the names of things now, could not even pray.
The snare would choke her before she could break it. But maybe—if she could relax, stop fighting—she could slip it. Just enough to breathe.
The wheels of Kory's 'sailer chirped by the window and Ghosh tensed again, and felt the sensation leave her feet. Be still, she thought. Still. Calm. Nothing.
Her right arm rolled off the bed. She felt her knuckles strike the floor. Yes. Fall. Do nothing. Let what falls, fall. Her right heel hit the ground. Fall. Her head tipped over; she saw the floor, her limp hand. There was blood on the scraped knuckles. Scrape. Pain. Her other hand moved. Pain for him. He wants pain. Give him pain. She clawed her hand around the bed leg, feeling the corners of the wood dig into her flesh. Not against his orders to hurt.
She pulled herself off the bed, landing with a thump face down. She got her hands under herself and pushed. Follow the pain where it leads. Like a disjointed doll, she got to her knees, shuffled around, grasped the door handle, pulled herself upright by the pain in her joints.
On the other side of the door, she knew, were three impossible stairsteps up to the unimaginably long street. She could not do it. She could not live so long.
You must live, said a voice inside her head. You're doing fine. You're doing right. Think of nothing. Think of sand, sea, sky, all empty.
"The hurt..." she s
aid.
Here is pain enough. Something flowed through her, something cold as mountain water. She knew that it was someone else's pain, feeding the invisible hunger that the caster had put inside his spell.
She knew whose pain it was.
Sand, sky, sea . . .
"Sand, sky, sea..." she said, wondering at the rushing cold pain, wondering how anyone could live adrift in such a cold of agony.... "Sea, sea-sea, Ciellon!"
The door flew into splinters. Jagg stepped through, held out his blue hands to Ghosh.
No, Jagg. Let her do it herself.
She took three firm, straight steps toward him, and then she fell, but he caught her easily. He thumbed open a vial and made her drink; she felt better at once.
"Ciellon," she said, "Jagg, Ghosh," drunk on the sound of names. "How, Jagg, Ciellon, Ghosh, find?"
Jagg reached into her hair, drew out a tiny, shiny object. Ghosh tried to focus on it. It was a golden louse, tiny hooks along its legs. "Ciellon put this on you," Jagg said. "He tracked it."
Ghosh nodded. "Nice Ciellon bug." She struggled to think. "Track. Kory track Reed. Track Kory!"
Yes. Jagg, take her to him. quickly.
•
The ais Ariom house was surrounded by plenty of bustle, more than enough for Kory to hide among. Baggage was being moved, wagons loaded. Dyelam ais Ariom himself stood in the middle of the confusion, trying to look in charge.
The rock garden, Reed's letter had said. It's invisible from the street. It was exactly the route he would have chosen. He knew for the ten-thousandth time that he loved her.
He sidled up the alley that led to the garden. The old iron gate was open. Good; less noise—though galloping horses might have been lost in the caravan out front.
Kory paused at the gate. The day had become cool and damp, Fog coming early, and there was mist filling the garden. "Reed?" Kory whispered.
"Here, Kory," Reed's voice said from the mist. Kory took a step. He looked up. A pair of glowing points stared back at him.
A spinning dagger flew past his head, toward the floating lights. It sailed between them; there was a long spark, and the lights were gone.
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