“No!” Andvari stiffened, stone dropping from his fingers. “I just meant . . . I mean I only . . .” He gathered his thoughts with a deep breath and a moment’s pause. “I’d feel the same way about her if she came from my own tribe.”
Kevral grunted. “Uh-huh.”
“I’m not a bigot, if that’s what you’re trying to say.”
Kevral pursued as savagely as she would in battle. “If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have to say it.”
Ra-khir leaped in before Kevral could escalate the arguing to violence. “Enough!”
Tae smiled. The knight had weathered similar attacks from Kevral against his honor in the first several months they had traveled together. At first, Tae had deliberately fueled those attacks. Later, as he came to know and care for both, he forced a change. Without his interference, bloodshed would surely have resulted and their mission would likely have failed. Now Ra-khir’s turn as mediator had come.
Ra-khir continued, “We’re stuck together until we find Rascal and convince her to return with us. When we get back to Béarn, we can regroup. Fighting won’t change any of that.”
Chan’rék’ril made a sound in his throat, higher-pitched and more polite than a clearing, yet with the same effect. “I’m afraid El-brinith and I didn’t make the situation fully clear to you.” He repeated the sound, returning the scrutiny of his human companions without obvious discomfort. “The magic of Arak’bar Tulamii Dhor, Captain, is cast and tuned specifically to the eight of us. Spells this focused cannot be easily recast, if at all.”
Andvari froze in a half-crouch. Kevral and Ra-khir exchanged glances. Darris rolled his eyes in the thoughtful manner that revealed he was busily memorizing. Tae needed clarification. “You mean we can’t change the makeup of the group?”
“Correct.” Chan’rék’ril seemed pleased with his ability to communicate a difficult point.
“At all?”
“Correct.”
Tae smacked the heel of his hand to his forehead, imagining them chasing a paranoid, antisocial street orphan through seven more worlds. Kevral’s and Andvari’s bickering would limit them enough when it came to dealing with situations as delicate, or worse, than the one they had faced.
Andvari still questioned the details. “We’re stuck with that . . .” He closed his eyes, choosing his words with extreme care. “. . . disagreeable girl until this is finished?”
Kevral spoke through clenched teeth, “You’d best be referring to Rascal.”
“Huh?” Apparently only then realizing the description could pass for Kevral as well, Andvari winced. “Of course I mean Rascal. I’m not—” He broke off, features painfully clenched. “I’m just not.” He rose, standing as tall and broad as Ra-khir. “Let’s go find her.”
The casualness of the final suggestion amused Tae, and he watched with arched brows as Andvari stomped past him. “Where do you propose to look, Northman?”
Andvari whirled, faced flushed around the scars. Tae read more curiosity than anger, and he suspected it came of his tendency to use descriptions in place of names. Surely, Andvari wondered how Tae got away with emphasizing racial differences while his every subtle comment was met with an accusation of bigotry.
Exactly why, but you wouldn’t understand. Tae turned the huge Northman an interested look. Beneath the Easterner’s placid exterior dwelt a hunted boy ready to dart into shadowed forest at the first sign of challenge.
All trace of red drained from Andvari’s features. “We’ll search the whole world, if necessary. What choice do we have?”
“Well,” Tae kept his tone light; Kevral had hassled the warrior enough. “We could sit here the rest of our natural lives and achieve the same results.”
“Meaning,” Andvari snapped, patience used up by Kevral.
“If a child of the streets doesn’t want to be found, she won’t be.” Tae kept his tone conversational. “In an area this big, we’ll only find her if we give her reason to want to be found.”
Kevral gnawed at her lower lip, clearly worried. Likely, she had expected Tae to locate the Pudarian.
True to his training, Ra-khir set straight to strategy. “We could spread out and promise her something at the top of our lungs.”
“I could sing,” Darris suggested. He ran a loving hand across the mandolin. “My voice carries.”
El-brinith added something Tae found more useful. “I could locate her. As I did the Pica shard.”
*What do we have that she might want?* Chan’rék’ril wondered in general khohlar.
“Easy.” Tae took over his area of expertise. “She’s a product of the West’s biggest city. She’s no more comfortable here than I am.” It had taken Tae months to understand woodlands, longer than a year to find the quiet solace that Matrinka and Darris described. The Eastlands had sacrificed their forests for necessary dwelling space and farmland long before his birth, and the cities had sprawled into one another until many of the old names disappeared. “She wants to go back to Béarn nearly as much as we do and may agree for that reason alone.”
“If we can get her to listen,” Ra-khir reminded.
Tae nodded. “Our biggest hurdle. She’s not likely to stay in one place long, especially if she hears one or more of us coming toward her.” He brushed back strands of hair nearly blue in the sunlight. “If El-brinith gives me a direction, I can try to sneak close enough to talk before she runs.”
Ra-khir shuffled his feet, frowning. “If we try to trap her, we’ll lose her trust. Basically, it would come down to which of you is more wary.”
We never had her trust. Tae saw no reason to argue the point. “If she catches me creeping up on her, we might die here before we find her again. But—”
“I don’t like that possibility.” Kevral shook her head, slight and slow at first, then quickening. “Better to openly shout for her first. If that fails, then we’ll try your idea, Tae.”
Tae made no reply. Arguing would never convince people who did not have the street mentality. He forced himself to think the way he had as a young teen, though ugly memories he would rather have avoided accompanied the exercise. Flee the danger. Locate or create safe places to hide. Secure basic necessities. Then, work on the problem: in this case, how to get home without winding up jailed for theft.
El-brinith knelt, Chan’rék’ril and Darris hovering. Tae glanced over. In a moment, the elf would cast away their only chance to locate the street thief. Rascal’s not going to stay in one place, and she’s not likely to be close by—flee the danger. Though driven to stop El-brinith, Tae remained in place. Kevral and Ra-khir had made their strategy clear, and the silence of every other companion on the matter suggested tacit agreement. Instead of interfering, he kept his attention on the woodlands, seeking signs of movement that might herald unknown or unexpected dangers on this alien world.
“Three hundred and twenty lengths due west,” El-brinith announced at length.
Tae’s eyes narrowed in consideration, the number far lower than he expected. He turned to question, but someone apparently beat him to it because El-brinith repeated distance and direction. Rascal has to know where we are. I would in her place. She fled long ago enough to put a lot more distance between us. She’s had time to locate a sanctuary. Is it there? An abandoned burrow? A cave? Something that makes it worth the risk of remaining close to people considered enemies?
Kevral knelt, etching diagrams in the dirt with a stick. “All right. I’ll circle around here. Ra-khir, you go straight this way. Darris . . .” She waved him closer. “. . . like this. Andvari, stay in this area here. Tae . . .” She looked up. “Tae? Where the. . .?”
Tae stepped into plain sight. “Here.”
“I wish you’d stop doing that.” Kevral’s complaint emerged halfheartedly. More often than not, she appreciated his subtlety. Besides, he had not actually hidden, simply stood still in a location beyond her linear sight. “I need you to curve around her and approach from the back.” She carved a broad loop in the
dirt.
Tae nodded.
“You can’t possibly see the diagram from there,” Andvari accused, some of his irritation likely stemming from Kevral’s harassment and the fact that she appeared to let Tae get away with words and actions for which she would fry him. He had no way to know the conflicts and heart-to-hearts that had led to that understanding.
“He’s right,” Ra-khir said.
Tae shuffled forward, his thoughts still on Rascal’s motivation. Kevral’s words had defined his responsibilities well enough, and he held little enough faith in the plan not to concern himself with details. Nevertheless, he approached and looked over his crouched and kneeling companions to the scratches Kevral had constructed. Secure basic necessities. He stiffened. Basic necessities. Rascal’s probably never hunted a rabbit or eaten a berry in her life.
Apparently trusting Tae to unscramble the lines, arcs, and circles without her assistance, Kevral continued. “The elves can stay with our things.”
“No,” Tae said.
Every head swiveled toward Tae.
Worried that the others might interfere with his plan again, Tae sought unrelated explanations for his contradiction. “The elves can use that mind call of theirs. It carries farther and doesn’t strain their voices.” He anticipated the objection. “It’s gentle and nonhurtful, so it’s more likely to make her curious than afraid.”
Kevral turned her attention to the elves. Chan’rék’ril replied, “We’re here for more than transportation. We have no problem with assisting.”
“I was thinking of your safety,” Ra-khir explained.
Chan’rék’ril shrugged off the concern. “Don’t worry for us. We’re good at avoiding violence.”
El-brinith added, “Our magic can assure that.”
“All right.” Kevral returned her attention to her diagram. “Then Darris will stay.”
Tae cleared his throat loudly.
Again, Kevral looked at him, getting his point without further need for words. “Tae, you can’t stay. No one else could get behind her.”
“Trust me,” Tae said.
“I do. I trust you to circle around—”
“Trust me,” Tae said again.
“All . . . right . . .” Kevral turned him a questioning stare that he did not address. Finally, she again joined those low in the huddle. “Tae stays behind. Chan’rék’ril and El-brinith keep together just in case, and go this way.”
Tae did not bother to watch where Kevral sent various companions. He doubted it would matter. Instead, he headed back to the clearing, rearranging packs and personal items, the others’ as well as his own. He concentrated on burying the food deep within the packs.
While Tae worked, the others formulated the best approach: the words they would shout to get Rascal’s attention, the course they would take if she came to one of them, and how soon they should return if their piece of the mission proved unsuccessful. Finally, as the others broke ranks, Tae joined them. Each headed in the appointed direction, and Tae pretended to leave also. Though it seemed unlikely that Rascal had reached their camp yet, appearances could count for something. Sticking to the shadowed areas of the woodlands, Tae swung back toward the camp as nearby shouts for Rascal permeated the forest.
Moving as cautiously and quietly as possible, Tae worked his way back to the packs and the clearing. Seizing the trunk of a thick, heavily barked deciduous tree, he scrambled onto the branches to a position directly above the camp. Hidden amid curling, brown leaves, he found a comfortable position that he knew he could maintain long-term. Concealment hinged more upon his remaining as motionless as possible than what he chose to hide behind.
Tae remained in place long after the shouts of his companions became swallowed by the density of woodlands and only the elves’ khohlar reached him. Gradually, even that passed beyond range. Then, he focused on the damp odors of mulching leaves and rotting bark, the crick of swaying branches and the crackle of tousled leaves, and the cold wash of the wind across his limbs and face. Though accustomed to long vigils, his crouched legs eventually surrendered to cramps, and his fingers grew frigid from lack of movement. Mentally seeking a new position that would handle all of his discomforts, require minimal change, and still allow lengthy maintenance, he noticed a movement at the edge of his vision.
Cursing the timing, Tae ignored his body’s protests. His legs tingled, warning of impending loss of blood flow. His fingers turned numb on the branches. His neck and upper back developed a deep ache, and his eyes stung. He blinked rapidly, lulling his parts with that one relieving action. His vision cleared, revealing the slow, steady progress of one attempting to remain unseen. He gradually carved out details: the uneven sandy hair, the skinny limbs jutting from contrastingly well-made clothes given to her at the start of their mission. Rascal’s attention glided toward the clearing and the temptation of its many packs, then swept the surrounding forest. Her eyes flickered like an animal’s, never in one position longer than an instant. She did not look upward.
Tae forced his muscles to uncoil; tension would only worsen the pain and stilt his actions. Even unnoticed and this close, he did not definitively have the upper hand. He would get one chance to sway her. If he failed, negotiations would become ten times trickier the next time. He banished thoughts about consequences that would follow. Not only did they distract him, they caused him to worry over things he felt ignorant to answer. If one of the eight died, would it leave them stranded? Could Captain craft another spell to rescue them? For now those details did not matter. He still had a chance to confront Rascal and bargain, coerce, or force compliance.
Rascal stepped into the clearing. Even from his distance, Tae recognized the tautness of her stance, the wariness that would send her skittering like a hunted deer at the slightest hint of danger.
Tae cringed. She would not stay to listen to words. He had little choice but to confine her until he made his points, yet that action itself would assure hostility. Damn. His mind raised a dozen options in the moments it took her to finally drift beneath him. Then, all time for consideration disappeared. If he did not act immediately, he might not gain another chance. Gauging distances with experienced care, he leaped from the branch.
A wash of leaves accompanied the movement. Cued by sound, Rascal jerked her head upward as Tae plummeted. She lurched sideways, screaming, but not far enough. Tae seized an arm and a handful of hair, dragging her into a roll to diminish the momentum of his landing. He scrambled for a better hold.
Rascal scratched, clawed, and bit like an animal. Guarding his eyes, wrenching to protect his genitals, Tae weathered the agony of her fingernails along his cheek. Her teeth gouged his arm, and a knee slammed into the side of his thigh. Blinded by his own actions, he cursed. Kinked fingers betrayed him, and he lost his grip on her hair. She twisted, gathering the momentum to kick him in the face. Tae’s neck jerked backward, spearing his head with a white bolt of agony. Pain exploded through his nose. Rascal jerked free.
Swearing viciously, Tae hurled himself at the girl’s legs. His shoulder slammed the back of one knee, toppling her again. She rolled. Anticipating the movement, he veered with her. His fingers closed over an ankle as the heel sped toward his groin. Pinning it with a leg, he grasped one flailing arm, then the other. Spread-eagled on the ground, Rascal did not surrender. She struggled wildly, snapping like a rabid animal for any part in reach.
Tae’s arm throbbed, and his nose felt on fire. Something liquid trickled along his elbow. He tasted blood. He swallowed anger and the desire for revenge, concentrating only on increasing his physical control of Rascal without falling victim to her panicked and savage defense. Painstakingly, he moved until his heavier body tacked hers to the forest floor, his legs pinned hers in place, and his hands bound her wrists like shackles.
For several moments, the Pudarian’s teeth clicked on empty air, and she snarled out curses that might make a foot soldier blush.
A drop of scarlet pattered to her cheek, then a seco
nd fell on her nose. Tae cursed his inability to check and repair the damage, yet the warm blood seemed to draw her to rationality. Fixing Tae with brown eyes glazed with defiance and hatred, she went still. Words followed immediately, “Go ‘head an’ rape me. I’s gonna hurt ya worser ’an ya hurt me.”
Tae suppressed an irritated response beneath a deep sigh. “I’m not going to rape you, damn it. I just want to talk.” His voice emerged annoyingly nasal. If she broke my nose, I’ll . . . No course of action followed; even his anger could not conjure up suitable punishment. After all, he had instigated the attack. He had fought as hard and as desperately fiercely in similar situations.
“Jumpin’ me hain’t talkin’.”
“I was just trying to make you listen. To keep you from running.”
Rascal spit at Tae, but it did not reach him. Instead, it plummeted to her own face, bubbles of saliva diluting the blood. Another drop dribbled to her face. “Ditty bastard.” She enunciated that word clearly enough, as if insults alone were worthy of her attention. “Ya bleedin’ on me.”
“Prolonging this won’t make it easier.” Tae guessed his own eyes, though darker, echoed hers like a mirror. “Until you’re ready to listen, I’m not moving. I’ll bleed all over you if I have to.”
“Hain’t ’fraid of ditt. Blood nuther. Bleed to death, Eastin bastard. Hain’t lissnin’.”
Tae raised one eyebrow but otherwise made no reply.
For several moments they glared at one another in silence, during which only a single drop of blood trickled from Tae’s nose onto hers.
“Talk,” Rascal finally said.
Tae saw no long-term solution but the truth. A lie would only gain temporary cooperation. “Unfortunately, we need you with us to get back to Béarn. And to complete the mission.”
Rascal’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Effect of the elves’ magic.”
“Meant why shud I do whatcha wants?”
“Because,” Tae explained carefully, keeping his gaze glaring fully into hers to demonstrate that he was not bluffing. He deliberately held pain from his expression, a weakness he could not afford. “If you don’t, you’re stuck here, too. Forever.”
The Children of Wrath Page 20