Black Spice (Book 3) (12 page)

Deep
twilight had enveloped Mantua by the time Kyric came out of the lodge.  He
leaned against a tree for a moment, shaking worse than Caleem had done, trying
to take long breaths.

Soth
Garo had questioned him about everything: the forces gathering at Tiah, the
mood of the Mokkalans, King Tonah’s court, the ship that had brought them to
the Spice Islands — and here Kyric risked a small lie.  He said that
Calico
’s
captain would flee with his spice at the first sign of trouble.  But mostly, Soth
Garo asked him about Aiyan and how they met, and Kyric’s own upbringing as
well.

This
was where Kyric began to sweat.  He told Soth Garo about his vagabond mother,
how they moved from town to town as she moved from man to man.  He made it
sound like that had gone on into his teens.  He said nothing about the rune
convent.

He
went ahead and told the truth about meeting Aiyan as he was pursued through the
forest near Aeva, and about letting him out of jail, but he certainly couldn’t
mention the captain, so he said that they went their separate ways until Aiyan found
him at the games and used him to gain entrance to the royal reception.  He told
Soth Garo that he didn’t see Aiyan again until he recruited him for this
voyage.  Then Soth Garo interrogated him about what weird talents Aiyan
possessed and how much of that had he learned from him.  Kyric told him that he
had learned very little.  That wasn’t a lie.

In
the end, Soth Garo said, “I cannot send you back to him.  He will have missed
you by now, and they have a keen intuition about this sort of intrigue.  You
will have to remain as one of my personal guard.  We will see you properly
groomed in the morning.  Once we engage the enemy, stay close to me.  I have
long-term plans for you, my son.  I have the strong feeling that the grandmaster
will want to meet you.”

And
then Kyric had been dismissed.  No orders, no instructions — just ‘that is all
for now.’ 
Of course.  This is what makes is so easy for him
.  His
minions acted in his best interest at all times, and he allowed them the
initiative to do so.  His personal guard acted as staff and company commanders
without having to be told, organizing and instructing the Mokkalans, who
responded with the best their hearts could muster.  Kyric supposed that Soth
Garo had dismissed him assuming he would go do something useful.

How
could the Tialuccans and the others stand against that kind of fanaticism?  How
could troops like that ever be broken?  Aiyan had to kill him.  He had to kill
him, and that was all.

But
Aiyan had been quiet and a little distant since Kyric had returned, since he
fought Soth Garo and his demon skin.  Now Kyric knew why.  He must have barely
escaped with his life.  When Aiyan last said that he would kill Soth Garo, he
hadn’t been lying, but Kyric now saw that he could believe that without yet
knowing how to do it.

He
had to find Mahai.  As night fell and torches were lighted, he wandered the
town, unobtrusively peeking into windows and doors.  He found a tent packed
with the most badly wounded, those missing limbs or near death, but Mahai
wasn’t among them.  Everyone looked at him, surprised to see a Northerner, but
the stares weren’t unfriendly, and no one asked him why he was there.

He
looked for a place they might keep prisoners, perhaps an enclosure like they
had used with the Silasese, but he didn’t see anything like that.  At last he
found a Manutu woman who spoke Baskillian.  “Do you know where I can find
Prince Mahai?” he said to her.

“The
Onakai all sleep together in a longhouse where the tanners lived.  He could be
there.”  She told him how to find it.

He
kept an eye out for things he might need as he made his way to the longhouse. 
He noticed a Silasese oil lantern hanging unattended from a tree limb and took
it as he passed.  Near the longhouse, he spied a two-wheel hand cart.  That
could prove useful if Mahai was very hurt.

When
he got to the longhouse and peered in, he found that it was empty except for a
huge form on a sleeping mat.  Kyric picked his way past baskets and jars and wads
of bedding.  He knelt over the sleeping man and held the lantern close.  It was
Mahai.

Some
kind of poultice had been strapped to his forehead, and a bloody bandage lay
wrapped around his upper torso.  He seemed to be breathing easily, and Kyric
touched his face.  His flesh was cool and dry.

“Well,
my friend,” Kyric said quietly, “I see it took more than a bullet to the head
to bring you down.”

“Is
it him?” called a hushed voice from the doorway.

Kyric
wheeled, his sword suddenly naked in his hand.  “Caleem?  What are you doing
here?  I thought you had gone.”

“So
did Soth Garo,” Caleem said.  “As long as I can avoid him and his lieutenants
no one will be wiser.”

Kyric
nodded.  “Thanks for waiting.”

They
went back for the cart.  All the roads and trails would be watched, but they could
figure that out once they got Mahai away from this place.  His roommates could
return at any minute.

They
dragged him outside by his sleeping mat and managed to lift him enough to roll
him into the cart.  They used the mat to cover him.  The wheels whined and
wobbled as Kyric pushed it down an unlighted lane, following Caleem toward the
edge of town.  Mahai mumbled in the Onakai tongue as they went.

When
they stopped behind a big tree and tried to shush him, Mahai’s eyes fluttered
open and he smiled thinly at Kyric.  “You kinnat be herrre,” he said in slurred
Baskillian, falling unconscious again at once.

Something
about this seemed terribly familiar.  “They’ve given him black spice,” Kyric
said.  “Probably to make sure he didn’t just walk away if he came-to
unexpectedly.”  He felt for Mahai’s spice pouch on his belt, remembering the
special salt, but they had taken that from him.

“How
do we get out of here unnoticed?” he said.

“I
did some scouting while you were inside the lodge.  There is a game trail that
circles around the sentry post where we were stopped.  The moon is nearly full
— we’ll be able to find the way without a lantern.”

Kyric
looked up.  Yes, it was only two nights until Riankatta. 
Now when did I
start thinking in those terms?

They
followed the darkest streets to the edge of town.  Every house in Mantua was
occupied and they couldn’t avoid being seen, but no one seemed to think
anything of two men and a cart.  Taking a last look to see if anyone was
watching, they headed down the trail to Lurta.

The
cart lasted until they turned onto the game path that Caleem had found.  With a
final squeak, one of the wheels came off and rolled away into the brush.

“We’ll
have to carry him,” Kyric said.

They
found that if they stood him up with one of them under each arm, Mahai could
stumble and slide along with them, but the way was narrow and they had to go
slowly to remain quiet.  Kyric didn’t know how close they were to the main
trail, but just when he figured they were passing the sentry post, Mahai began
babbling in Onakai.

Kyric
slapped his hand across Mahai’s mouth, and they stood there holding their
breath.  All they heard were the long croaks of the tree frogs.

They
worked their way to the main trail and made better time once they started down
it.  After stumbling along for what seemed like hours, Caleem said, “I must
rest.”

Kyric
was hurting too — Mahai weighed over twenty stone.  They laid him down and
drained their water skins.  Kyric tried to give some to Mahai, but he only spat
it out.

“How
close are we to Lurta?”

“More
than half the way,” Caleem said.  “We should be out of the forest soon.”

They
sat still, catching their breath, then Kyric felt the weird suddenly come upon
him.  Death was coming down the trail, rushing headlong in its thirst to find
them.  It would be here in moments.

“Quickly,
into the brush,” he hissed, rolling Mahai off the trail.  They lay in
concealment for nearly a minute.  Caleem raised his head to speak but Kyric cut
him off with a wave.  A rhythmic sound drifted down the trail, growing louder —
booted men moving at the trot.

Kyric
saw them in the moonlight as they went past: two death guards with Baskillian
war bows in their hands, and a Manutu hunter with a blowgun.

“What
shall we do now?” Caleem whispered.

“We’ll
use Aiyan’s trick for evading pursuers.  We will follow
them
.”

They
hoisted Mahai to his feet and continued along the trail.  He was almost
sleepwalking now, Kyric and Caleem guiding him as much as holding him up.  He
mumbled something unintelligible every few steps.

“Is
there nothing we can do to keep him quiet?” Kyric said.

Caleem
reached into his spice pouch and slipped something into Mahai’s mouth.  “I
don’t know why, but the flavor of cloves seems to calm these Onakai.”

Kyric
shook his head.  “Burns my tongue.”

But
Mahai stopped his raving, and before long they broke out of the forest and
entered the village in the hills.  Kyric felt too exposed on the road, so they
skirted around the main cluster of houses, moving among the moon shadows as
much as possible.

Suddenly
Mahai cried out, and his voice echoed off the hills.  They froze.

“Let’s
keep going,” Kyric said quietly.  “The way those death guards were running,
they should be a mile ahead of us.”

As
they started forward, a figure came from behind one of the houses.  Two more
suddenly flanked them on either side.

“Good
Goddess,” said Ellec Lyzuga.  “They did it.  They got him out.”

Lerica
lowered her crossbow.  Aiyan stepped into the moonlight.

Kyric
looked from one to another.  “There were three men ahead of us . . . “

“We
took care of them,” said another voice, coming up behind them.  It was Nakoa. 
He slipped under Mahai’s arm, relieving Kyric.  “Here, let me take him.”

They
had killed the two death guards, but had captured the Manutu hunter.  Ellec
found a better cart, and made the man roll Mahai down to the beach at Lurta,
where King Tonah’s fastest double-hull waited, along with a handful of
Tialuccans and the outrigger that Caleem had sailed.  Aiyan never said a word
the whole way, he and Lerica lagging far behind as a rear guard.

They
piled into the double-hull, Kyric almost swooning with exhaustion as he climbed
in and collapsed.  Lerica propped him up.

“I
can’t believe that all of you came for me,” he said to her.

She
kissed him on the ear and then whispered into it.  “You’ve been a bad boy.”

“No,”
he whispered back, “I’ve been good.  But I will show you bad once I get you
alone.”

Ellec
sat down and slapped him on the back.  “This is incredible.  You must tell us
how you did it.”

Kyric
glanced at Aiyan then back to Ellec.  He would have to tell them in the
morning, but for tonight he’d had enough.  “Maybe later if you don’t mind.”

The
two boats raced for home beneath the brilliant moon.  The night was fair, the
swells gentle, and Kyric had nearly drifted off to sleep when Mahai suddenly
sat up with a gasp.

“What’s
happening?” he said, looking around in shock.  “Where are we?”  He blinked and
focused on the faces around him, recognition coming into his eyes.

“Easy,”
Kyric said, going to him.  “Easy.  Your head is still full of black spice.  But
don’t worry, you’re safe now.  You’re among friends.”

“His
army will be here the day after tomorrow,” Kyric said to King Tonah.  It was an
informal audience over coffee, just Caleem, Ilara, Aiyan and Kyric.  The king
had wanted to thank Kyric for rescuing Mahai.  Unlike Aiyan, he seemed pleased
that Kyric had risked his son’s life in a hair-brained excursion.

“We
have gathered the clans,” Tonah said, looking at Aiyan.  “All who could be
found have come.  We can get no stronger.”

Aiyan
bowed deeply.  “I had hoped that this battle could be avoided.  I failed in my
attempt to kill Soth Garo, but I will not fail in my promise.  When his army is
engaged, I will seek him in the field and slay him there.”

Tonah
sat silent for a moment.  “I will hold a council of chiefs tomorrow.  I shall
assume command of all the clans and we will plan our defense.  You may attend,
Sir Aiyan.  Prince Mahai has told me of your prowess in combat, and we are
grateful that you would fight for us.  But do not tell them that the battle
will be short.  Tell them that the battle will be long.”

“Would
it be possible to see Mahai for a moment?”  Kyric said.

Ilara
made the feathered crest.  “I have sung a powerful song of healing over him,
and he must lie quiet for one day and one night.
 
He cannot be
disturbed.  Tomorrow we shall see if he can rise and fight.”

“His
wounds must have been worse than I thought.”

“It
is not that,” she said.  “I felt resistance to my song within him.  He was
given a great deal of black spice.  I have given him sea spice to counteract
it, but will have to wait.”

Kyric
had never been so happy to have the refuge of Lerica’s cabin.  As soon as they
had returned to
Calico
, Aiyan had insisted on hearing a brief account of
what had happened.  When Kyric told him about taking Soth Garo’s frozen blood,
he became so still, and his eyes so hard, that Kyric thought it to be the calm
before the storm.  But all he said was, “We don’t do that.”

The
distance between them had widened.  Aiyan’s distance from everyone had grown
since they had all come back together, but with Kyric he was polite yet terse. 
The worst part was the way Aiyan looked at him when he bothered to look.

“There
is another matter,” Aiyan said to Tonah.  “His demon skin, the nameless thing
that killed Mahai’s father, we know that Soth Garo will send it for you on the
night before he attacks.”

Ilara
began to speak, then stopped.  Tonah nodded for her to go on.

“I
have the power to cast a line that even a nameless demon cannot cross,” she
said.  “I have spice for this.”

Strangely,
neither Ilara nor Tonah had offered much grief for the loss of Ubtarune. 
Lerica had said that when Ilara heard of his death, she only nodded as if she
fully expected it.

“King
Tonah,” Aiyan said.  “I have every confidence in the magic of the high
priestess.  But if you will, please allow me to stand guard outside your
sleeping chamber that night, in case the enemy sends human assassins as well.”

“Let us say rather,” Tonah replied,
“that I invite you to sleep under my roof as my honored guest.”

Aiyan
wasn’t at dinner with Ellec and Lerica that night.  Afterwards, Kyric found him
in their cabin, packing up his gear.

“I’m
going to accept the king’s invitation starting tonight,” Aiyan said.  “I’ll
sleep there until this is over.”

Kyric
stepped in and closed the door.  “Why don’t you go ahead and say whatever it is
that you’re not saying.”

Aiyan
tucked his helmet under his arm.  “You should start wearing your armor at all
times.  There’s always some sort of ruckus before the real battle starts.”

“I
meant about me sneaking off to Mantua.”

“Why
don’t
you
tell
me
.”

“Alright,”
Kyric said.  “I know that you’re angry because I went against your word, but I
knew it would work.  I knew that his blood would do nothing to me.  Sure, it
was risky to take Caleem, but he was willing, and I needed him along — that’s
how I knew I could take Soth Garo’s blood.  If Caleem could stand before him,
and he not know his spell had been broken, then how would he sense anything
about me?”

Aiyan
glanced up from his duffle.  “You have no idea how foolish that was.  These men
of the dragon’s blood often have extraordinary powers.  It’s said that Keldring
can draw your intentions from you like water from a well.  Andemin can look you
in the eye and see your deepest fear.  But that’s isn’t the point.”

“What
is the point?”

“Listen
to yourself.  You sound like a kid explaining his latest caper.  You’re
supposed to be walking a path.  A true warrior does what he must do, but he
does not do it behind the back of his master.  If it would have weakened your
spirit to leave Mahai to his fate, and if you knew this as truth, you should
have been man enough to tell me so, and that you were going through with it
whether or not I came with you.  Try to show as much courage with me as Lerica
does with her uncle.”

Aiyan
turned away from his packing, standing up straight.  “Perhaps I should have
explained this.  I have never given you a command, and you are not bound to
obey me in any case.  No man who follows the Way of the Flame commands another,
nor is he commanded, even by the masters of Esaiya.”

Kyric
cleared his throat.  “There are times when you appear to give orders.”

“Those
are only strong suggestions.”

A
thought struck Kyric.  “If the masters don’t issue commands, what do they do? 
Doesn’t your fight against Cauldin and his men require organization and
discipline?”

“On
a personal level, yes.  But the masters only do what I have done with you. 
They give advice and make suggestions.  They show us the Way.  They know more
than the rest of us all together, so we tend to listen to them.  Actually,
coming to the Spice Islands was my own idea, but they thought it was a good
one.”

Kyric
was quiet for a minute and Aiyan went back to packing.  “I can see now,” Kyric
said, “that I was weak and disrespectful.  I’m sorry.  It won’t happen again.” 
He turned to go.

“Kyric.  What you did was magnificent. 
Sublime even.  One for the scrolls, as they say.  Remember that as well.”

The
council of chiefs was a surprisingly quiet affair, considering that every
prince, chief, headman, priestess, sorcerer, and spice master in Tiah had
gathered in Tonah’s receiving chamber.  Each group of clan leaders huddled
together and whispered as they burned the incense peculiar to their nation. 
The Bantuan had over a dozen chiefs and insisted that they had to bring at
least three dogs or it would displease their clan spirit.  Despite the early
hour, the room was stuffy.

Tonah
first announced that Caleem would lead the spears of the Tialucca, and asked
each clan who would command them in the field.  Naran would lead the Bantuan,
and a man named Ferrin was given command of the Silasese.  When it came to the
Manutu, they huddled again, a low hum coming from the group.  At last the
oldest chief raised his head.

“All
of the free Onakai warriors have respected our ways and fought well with our
hunters.  One has proven to be a clever war chief.  We choose Prince Mahai of
the Onakai to lead our combined warriors in battle.”

The
rest of the Manutu, chanted excitedly in low whoops, confirming the choice. 
Mahai accepted.  Tonah approved.  And then it was a matter of the four field
leaders to debate possible strategies and tactics.  King Tonah listened to them
for over an hour, then raised the feathered crest.

“It
is done,” he said.  “I have made my plan.  The Manutu and the Silasese shall form
a line beyond the streambed, and will hold the enemy there.  The spears of the Tialucca
and the Bantuan will be hiding in the Ko groves to the east.  Once the enemy
attacks, they will charge his exposed flank and sweep his army away.”

Kyric noticed the slightest smugness
from Aiyan, nothing more than a twinkle in his eye, really.  He wondered if Aiyan
and Tonah had concocted this ruse together.  Because whatever the king was
actually planning, he had just told a big fat lie about it.

Kyric
had wanted to speak with Mahai afterwards, but he and Caleem rushed off to spend
most of the day choosing secondary leaders and organizing their commands.  Tiah
was impossibly crowded, having swollen to a town of ten thousand people, and
now the tension rose even further.  Rumor had it that the Tialucca had run out
of grain, and scouts returned from the field with news that Soth Garo’s army
was indeed on the march.

By
sunset, Ellec and Lerica had sequestered themselves for a night of Riankatta —
what did they do, bite on a stick and try not to change?  Lerica would never
say.  Kyric was pacing the deck aboard
Calico
, sweating in his cuira-boulli,
when he spied a familiar figure.  It appeared to be Mahai, sitting alone at the
far end of the beach.

As
Kyric approached him, a gentle melody rose above the voice of the waves.  Mahai
was playing the
mashan
, a tall, fragile lute with only four strings. 
The neck looked like it would snap beneath Mahai’s huge hands, but he fingered
the strings delicately, coaxing a sad song out of the instrument.

“I
didn’t know you could play,” Kyric said.

“It’s
been years,” Mahai said without pausing.  “I wasn’t sure I could still do it. 
I don’t even have mine anymore.  I borrowed this one from the queen’s cousin.”

Kyric
noticed that his forehead was still bruised.  “Are you feeling alright?  You
don’t look very healed.”

“I’ll
be well enough to fight.  Don’t worry about that.  But a magic song can’t heal
everything.”

Mahai
finished his tune then said, “I never told you how grateful I am that you got
me out of Mantua.  Caleem told me what you did.”

“No
thanks are necessary.  You would have done it for me.”

Mahai
shrugged.  “Maybe.  Maybe not.”  He smiled.  He was joking of course.

Kyric
drew a circle in the sand.  “I’m embarrassed to say this, but when I first met
Caleem I thought the king had been right, that he was still the coward of his
youth.  There was something about his look I didn’t like.”

“We
know now what that was.”

Kyric
shook his head.  “It was more than that.  But when he knelt in front of Soth
Garo and looked him in the eye . . . he was so afraid.  That was as brave as
anything I’ve seen.”

“I
believe I underestimated you as well.  Caleem told me that even as he stood at
the fountain, he would never have freed himself without your help.”

“I
simply challenged his beliefs.”

“It’s
lucky that Caleem was so confident that he thought he could prove his devotion
by drinking — certainly it wasn’t simply water.  What was it that flowed from
the fountain?”

“That
which flows from a dream,” Kyric said quietly.

Mahai
played.  The sun sank low and they sat facing it.

“What
do you think of King Tonah’s battle tactics?” Kyric asked.

“It’s
a simple plan.  I think, with so many spears on the field, that a simple plan
would be the best.  But I don’t know.  I’ve never fought a battle on this
scale.  None of us has.”

Kyric
nodded.  “In my homeland, a battle with these numbers, four or five thousand on
each side, would be considered nothing more than a skirmish.”

“No
one outside of Mokkala will ever hear of this battle, will they?  Only those
who survive it will remember.  It will never be recorded on a scroll.”

“Who
can say?”

The
sun finished setting and Mahai began to play again.  A full moon rose over the
highlands to the east.  Suddenly he stopped.

“You
took his blood and felt nothing?”

“It
— ,” Kyric began, but then he saw the ship, the Baskillian carrack, at the
mouth of the inlet running under full sail.  It maneuvered a little to
starboard, its new course straight for
Calico
.

Mahai
turned and saw it too.  “What can we do?”

Kyric
leapt to his feet.  “Go find Jascenda and bring her to the harbor.”

He
ran for the dock shouting, “Enemy ship!”  A moment later
Calico
’s bell
clanged out an alarm.  Kyric’s feet barely touched the ground as he hurdled beached
canoes.  He dodged men with fish on their shoulders without breaking his
stride, without even thinking.

The
crew of
Calico
had swarmed the ship by the time he made it there.  Ellec
and Lerica stood on the quarter deck.  Kyric was surprised — they looked
completely normal.

He
shook his head.  Of course they did.  He had been under the full moon with
Lerica in the slave camp and nothing about her had changed except her state of
mind, he told himself.  Yet he couldn’t shake the memory of what she had looked
like running through the moon shadows.

“Drop
all the yardarms,” Ellec called to Pallan, “then get everyone off the ship. 
We’re going to receive a broadside in about five minutes.”