“But we really will be back in the County within a couple of months? You will keep your promise?”
“I will do my very best to bring you back well within that time. We are heading for the kingdoms that border the Kobalos lands. Once we disembark, we will head for the northern regions, where there is ice and snow all the year round. It is only September now, but in another couple of months, winter will be nigh and the cold will come south. We need to return before that happens. We shouldn’t have to go far to learn what we need. If it comes to it, we will race the snows south.”
The weather changed quickly, and soon we were being battered by a cold wind from the north. The sea grew choppy, then mountainous. Jenny was sick first, and less than an hour later, I too brought up my breakfast. Whether Grimalkin felt the effects of the stormy sea I never knew; long before the first salt spray stung my eyes, she’d retreated belowdecks.
At the end of our sea crossing lay a port called Amstelredamme. Here Grimalkin hired a fisherman to take us farther up the river to a small town where the proprietor of a large stable greeted Grimalkin with a low bow and called her ma’am. It was clear that Grimalkin was well known to him and that they had traded together previously. We were furnished with four excellent mounts. Grimalkin handed over the payment. She seemed to have an endless supply of money—most of it in the form of gold coins. It was what she referred to as her war chest.
Some of our provisions were carried in panniers attached to each side of our mounts. Once again the fourth horse was used for baggage, carrying the tent and the bulk of our food and equipment.
As we set off, Jenny patted her horse’s head and whispered into its ear. It was a beautiful creature with a friendly disposition, and despite her earlier doubts and discomfort, she was clearly delighted to be riding it. But Grimalkin noted this and shook her head in warning.
“Don’t get too attached to that mare, child. This is the first of several you’ll be riding. We need to keep up a fast pace and will be changing our mounts every few days as they tire.”
I wondered how we’d cope with the pace, never mind the horses.
We were now in a foreign land, but in truth, it looked very similar to certain parts of the County back home. This was a flat moss land with a huge sky; gangs of men were busy cutting peat and heaping it onto carts. However, we had a long journey ahead of us, and no doubt the scenery would change.
Grimalkin proved as good as her word. We rode hard from dawn until dusk each day, only pausing to rest, water, and feed the horses. We had our midday meal in the saddle, eating our one hot meal after dark. After two more days, we changed our mounts for fresh ones in another small town.
For the moment, we slept in our blankets without using the tent. We were traveling northeast, and at first the weather was considerably warmer and drier than that of the County we had left behind. We had a southerly breeze at our backs, and our horses’ hooves raised clouds of dust so that we were forced to wrap scarves about our noses and mouths.
But after the first week, the wind changed and blew hard from the north, making the nights much colder. By dawn the grass was usually white with frost. We started to use the tent; erecting it each night and dismantling it each morning became part of our routine, accomplished without thought.
The plain we traveled across was vast and sparsely populated. We skirted the rare towns and changed our mounts at hamlets or roadside inns where Grimalkin seemed to be known to the landlord. She had clearly taken this route more than once.
One night, during the second week of our journey overland, we were sitting around the campfire, listening to the howling of wolves in the distance, when Grimalkin started to tell us more about the purpose of our journey.
“We have crossed three countries so far; nations that, once roused, may prove to be at least a temporary buffer against the Kobalos. But tomorrow we will reach one of the small principalities that border the lands of our enemies. When the war begins, they will be the first to fall. There we will encounter our first Kobalos.”
“Just one?” I asked.
Grimalkin nodded, her eyes glittering like the stars that were clustered overhead. “The Kobalos have many orders of mage, and almost as many brotherhoods of assassins. As I told you back in Chipenden, the most formidable of these are known as the Shaiksa—they are referred to in Nicholas Browne’s glossary. Just over a year ago, one came to the border of the principality of Polyznia. He issued a challenge, offering to fight human champions in single combat—at least, any who dared accept, because he quickly demonstrated his ability to dispatch most of his opponents within moments. His name is Kauspetnd. I suspect that he is the most formidable member of his brotherhood.”
The behavior of this assassin seemed strange, but before I could remark upon it, Jenny spoke up.
“What’s the point of that? What does the assassin hope to achieve, apart from the deaths of his opponents?” she asked.
“That’s a good question, child,” Grimalkin replied. “But we must remember that we are dealing with minds alien to our own. The Shaiksa assassins live to fight and kill; they love to demonstrate their formidable prowess. However, something else may be happening here. I believe the haizda mage that your new master slew was a spy—but also something more. As well as gathering information, he was testing our strengths and vulnerabilities before the coming war. And that is precisely what the Shaiksa assassin is doing, in a different way.”
“So you think he is trying to prove his superiority?” I asked.
“Yes, I’m certain of it. His intention is to demoralize the human foe and spread the belief in Kobalos martial supremacy. By issuing his challenge and dispatching so many of his human opponents so easily, he has demonstrated just how formidable he is. And in so doing, he is filling human warriors with dismay, destroying their morale. For him, it is a great honor to be the single vanguard of the Kobalos army.”
“Is it working?” I asked. “What about those who witness the defeats of their champions?”
“Representatives of the rulers of the northern principalities—and, in some cases, the princes themselves—have gathered on the south bank of a river that marks the border with the Kobalos territory. The lone Shaiksa assassin is camped on the far side, and each day he issues a challenge. If the challenge is not taken up, he returns the next day to mock and insult the humans.”
“Don’t any of the rulers fight for their honor?” asked Jenny.
“At first the challenges were answered by local warlords—men little better than bandits, who have sworn allegiance to a patron and, in return, are free to base themselves in forts on main highways or at river crossings and exact tribute from travelers. Most of the princes now appoint skilled champions to fight on their behalf. Every week the assassin faces some such champion—faces, fights, and kills him very quickly,” answered Grimalkin. “When, finally, one prince screwed up his courage and faced Kauspetnd in person, he lasted less than a minute.”
“Do you hope to learn about the Shaiksa by going there?” I asked. “Or is there something else that you’ve not told me?”
Grimalkin smiled, showing me her teeth. “All will be revealed in good time!” she said.
“I’d like to know now,” I insisted, meeting her gaze.
“I want to study Kauspetnd’s skills,” she told me. “We will learn and then eventually put that knowledge to good use. The time will come when he must die.”
Somewhere in the distance a wolf howled, and I shivered. I sensed danger ahead.
The following day, just before noon, Grimalkin rode off alone to scout ahead. She told us that she had to check that the situation at the riverbank was unchanged.
She was away for about two hours, which allowed me the opportunity to talk to Jenny and give her a short lesson. I was listing the various categories of boggart and the usual steps for dealing with them. It was a lesson that I remembered learning from my master; his face kept drifting into my mind’s eye, making it difficult to concentrate. A
nd as I spoke, I could hear John Gregory’s voice in my ear.
“There are four main stages when dealing with boggarts,” I explained, “and we use the acronym NIBS as an aid to memory. We negotiate, intimidate, bind, and slay, in that order, though the final one is used only as a last resort. Sometimes a boggart will listen to reason and move on from a spot where it’s causing problems.”
I watched Jenny jotting down what I’d said in her notebook. But suddenly she stopped writing and looked up at me.
“Do you trust Grimalkin?” she asked.
I nodded. “It’s wise always to keep in mind that she’s a witch assassin and has her own agenda. But she’s been a good ally in the past, and we have a common cause in dealing with the threat of the Kobalos. So yes, I do.”
“We may have a common cause, but where the Kobalos are concerned she seems fanatical. Have you seen the expression in her eyes when she talks of them?”
I nodded, feeding the fire with fresh wood to keep the cold at bay. “Grimalkin has crossed blades with them already. She even spent time in their city, Valkarky. She’s seen firsthand how they keep women as slaves. A witch like her, a woman of power, feels a sense of duty toward those who suffer like that. They may not be witches, but she looks upon them as oppressed sisters. She’s sworn to free them and overthrow the Kobalos.”
“I can understand that,” Jenny replied, “and I can’t fault her for it. If I had her power, I would try to do the same. But I don’t like that fanatical gleam. People like that are capable of anything to achieve their goals. They use people. If necessary, they sacrifice them.”
I didn’t reply. I’d already had some experience of that. Although she’d loved me, my own mam had been prepared to use me in any way that she deemed necessary to destroy the Fiend. I found some of what had happened hard to contemplate now. At the time, when she’d demanded certain things of me, such as the sacrifice of Alice, I’d been upset. Looking back now, I was appalled by what I’d been asked to do—and hated myself more for having even considered it. So I understood exactly what Jenny was warning me about.
My apprentice glanced at me warily. She must have read the expression on my face and realized that her words had troubled me. So she changed the subject.
“Wouldn’t it be better if you taught me about witches rather than boggarts?” she asked. “I mean, we’re traveling with a witch. It might be useful to know about County witch clans.”
Jenny had questioned me about this already, and for a moment I was irritated. “My master always gave lessons on boggarts in the first year and witches in the second,” I explained. “I suppose I’ve just gone along with his routine. I remember thinking the same way as you.”
I remembered it only too well: in the first weeks of my apprenticeship I’d faced great danger from two powerful Pendle witches—Bony Lizzie and Mother Malkin—and wished I’d been studying witches, not boggarts.
Suddenly I decided to break with the past. I had to find my own ways of doing things.
“All right, we’ll do things differently. Boggarts can wait until next year. Tomorrow I’ll start teaching you about witches.”
Jenny’s face lit up with a smile, but then she frowned. “There’s something I need to tell you,” she said.
“Don’t be afraid to say what’s on your mind. I kept things from John Gregory, and now I regret not being more honest with him.”
“Well, it’s happened more than once, and each time in almost exactly the same way. When I was sitting alone on the bench in the western garden, writing things up in my notebook—it never happened when you were teaching me—I’d sense somebody watching me. I’d look up, and there in the shadow of the trees, a girl stood staring at me. She was always scowling angrily.”
“What did she look like?” I asked, my heart starting to beat faster.
“She was probably about my height, and slim, with dark hair. She was pretty, but as soon as I looked directly at her, she’d vanish. The first time I thought I’d imagined it, but later I knew for sure that she was there. Was it a witch? Was she using magic to disappear? And how did she get into the garden? I thought the boggart was supposed to guard it.”
“Alice!” I exclaimed before I could stop myself.
“Who’s Alice?” Jenny asked. “And why is she so angry with me?”
25
The Shaiksa Assassin
I sighed and decided to tell Jenny the truth—or at least as much as she needed to know.
“For a time Alice lived with John Gregory and me at Chipenden. But although we fought the dark together, she’d received two years’ training in witchcraft from her mother, Bony Lizzie—she’s dead now, but she was a powerful Pendle witch who specialized in bone magic.”
“Bony Lizzie once passed through Grimsargh,” Jenny told me. “It was before I was even born, but people still talk about it. They locked their doors and drew their curtains and refused to answer when she knocked. But it did them no good. A child went missing and was never seen again. And there were five dead cats floating in the local pond, each with its neck broken. Later that year the crops failed—all of them.”
I nodded. “That sounds like Lizzie’s doing. Anyway, my master never trusted Alice; at the time, that made me angry, because I thought she was my friend. But eventually he was proved right. Alice went to the dark. She shares her life with a dark mage called Lukrasta now.”
“Were you close . . . really close friends?”
“We went through a lot together. She saved my life more than once. Yes, we were close,” I admitted.
Jenny nodded and stared off into space for a while. Then she came back with another question.
“But how did she get past the boggart and into the garden to stare at me?”
“She has really powerful dark magic at her disposal,” I replied. “The boggart’s not strong enough to stop her.”
“And why would she be watching me? Why scowl at me like that? What have I done to her?”
I shrugged. “Who knows what’s going through the mind of someone who’s gone to the dark? But however angry she was, I don’t think she’d hurt an apprentice of mine. I don’t think she’d hurt either of us.”
“Perhaps she scowled at me because she’s jealous—”
“Jealous!” I exclaimed.
“She could be jealous of me living in the house with you. In a way I’ve taken her place, haven’t I?”
“I suppose you have,” I replied doubtfully.
Could Alice really be jealous of Jenny? Did she miss being with me? I wondered. Angrily, I dismissed the thought from my head. My mind kept snatching at straws, building impossible hopes. Alice was best forgotten.
“Look,” I said, giving Jenny a smile, “I’ll teach you about witches, but there’s something else we can study together—the Kobalos.”
I pulled Grimalkin’s working document out of my bag and gave it to her.
“Read it carefully,” I instructed. “You’ll see that I’ve made a few additions and notes on existing entries. Eventually you might want to do the same. We’ll build up our store of knowledge on these creatures together.”
Within the hour, Grimalkin returned and leaped down from her horse. She strode toward us impatiently.
“A challenge has just been made and accepted,” she declared. “They fight an hour before sunset. If we ride now, we might be in time to see it.”
We mounted our horses and followed a river that meandered through a valley. It was bordered by dark conifers—there were few deciduous trees in this place. From the heights above it, we could see scores of campfires sending brown smoke spiraling up into the sky. As we descended, we had a good view of the gathering below on the southern bank. There were perhaps two thousand people there—at least five separate camps, each cluster of tents marked by a standard. There were also a large number of stalls, along with a neat line of cooking fires and larger tents set up on the periphery of the camp. Traders, artisans, and merchants had moved in to meet the needs of a
ll the people. I could smell roasting pork on the wind and hear horses being shod.
“That’s the Shanna River,” said Grimalkin. “And beyond it, to the northeast, is the Plain of Eresteba, which is Kobalos territory. Until recently, there were Kobalos settlements on this southern bank too. They retreated several months ago, and soon afterward the Shaiksa assassin Kauspetnd arrived to issue his challenge. Why they pulled out, I don’t know. But there is something ritualistic about the challenge. Perhaps it must be done across a river that divides our peoples? There is still much for us to learn.”
As she spoke, I saw the intensity in her eyes—hints of the fanaticism Jenny had spoken of.
Grimalkin led us down the slope toward the river, which ran from east to west. As we rode between the lines of tents, many warriors turned to gaze at us. The expressions on their faces ranged from curious to hostile. She guided us to a quiet spot, far from the other tents, and we set up camp. While I quickly erected our tent with Jenny, Grimalkin lit a fire and then did something surprising. She took three pieces of wood that had been lashed to her saddlebags (I had originally assumed that they formed part of the tent) and fitted them together to make a long pole. Next she fastened to the end a piece of cloth, and as Jenny and I looked on in astonishment, she thrust the other end deep into the ground.
Instantly the cloth atop the pole fluttered out in the wind. It was a flag—the standard of the County: a red rose on a white background.
“Why?” I asked Grimalkin. “Won’t that draw attention to us?”
“We will draw attention whatever we do, because we are strangers to this place; there will be a pecking order here. No doubt someone will soon be along to apprise us of the fact. We will be at the bottom of the pile until we demonstrate otherwise. Leave your staff here, but wear the sword at all times. We may need to defend ourselves.”
My mind was buzzing with questions, but before I could speak, there was a roar of voices from farther along the riverbank.
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