Moving Targets and Other Tales of Valdemar (19 page)

The idea was for Dromis’s spirit, adrift in time, to observe one of the fraudulent duels and mistake it for the real one, and I admit, I’ve hatched schemes that inspired greater confidence. Even if all my unsubstantiated guesses were correct, there was still one chance in four that my foe had watched the actual combat. But now I knew the trick had worked.

We traded attacks, neither scoring as of yet. But as the moments passed, I felt more and more in control of the action, and he had to give ground repeatedly.

I judged that if I could stop him retreating, I could finish him, and there was a marble tomb, crowned with a statue of a dove lighting on the hand of a goddess, several paces behind him. I started the process of backing him up against it.

Then Dromis used the thumb of his off hand to rotate the gold ring on his middle finger, perhaps another keepsake he’d carried away from his cult’s desecrated temple. The medallion I wore next to my skin turned icy cold, warning me of hostile magic. Unfortunately, the warning was redundant. I was able to guess that my opponent had cast a curse stored in a talisman from the way the world suddenly went black.

Acting by reflex, I parried, and steel rang as I stopped Dromis’ sword. I riposted, and felt my blade cleave flesh and stick there. When Dromis fell, his weight dragged it toward the ground.

My feat was lucky, but not, I think, pure luck. Throughout the duel, I’d studied Dromis’ fighting style and learned his favorite attack. Thus, even blind, I was able to defend. And when our blades met, it gave me a sense of his position. That made it possible to land a cut.

Much to my relief, my eyesight returned a moment after Dromis dropped. Blinking away a certain residual cloudiness, I checked to make sure he was dead, then pivoted to find Olissimal. I wanted to witness his dismay at his champion’s demise.

But in that regard, I was disappointed. Supported by his crutches, Olissimal stood shivering with his lips parted and his eyes half closed, a picture of perverse delight. He didn’t really care who’d died a bloody death, only that someone had.

I suppose no moment is perfect. But, Olissimal’s bliss notwithstanding, this one came close, and tasted sweeter still when Marissa strode up to me, a rare smile of genuine admiration on her face. “Nicely done,” she said.

“You have no idea,” I answered.

“So what happens now? We find the black stone and try to use it to prove Dromis’ duelists cheated?”

“No, because they didn’t. Not knowingly. They didn’t understand Dromis used sorcery to determine how they should fight. They just thought he was a brilliant teacher.”

“Then I guess we’re done. We can get down to the serious business of using the stone to pick winning horses.”

I was reasonably certain she was joking. But since coming to Mornedealth, I’d lost a ridiculous amount of coin wagering in the hippodrome, and I confess that, just for an instant, I was tempted.

A Dream Deferred

On silent feet, Laeka padded through the darkened house. Her steps wove from one side of the entrance hall to the other, her feet remembering from years of habit where each squeaky board was even when her mind had not yet fully awakened. She held her oldest boots in her hand, and her well-worn clothing barely rustled with her movements. A few hushed words with the guard at the front door, and she was outside, sitting on the front stair to pull on her boots before she stepped into the dew-damp grass.

As always, her first stop of the morning was the private corral, where the mares that were the foundation of her breeding line moved at their choice between the open outdoors and the large loose-box in the stable. Tonight the mares had slept outdoors, and soft whickers greeted her approach. She slipped the latch and walked into the corral, and the mares crowded around her, lipping at her hair and clothing, bumping their heads affectionately against her. Laeka spent a moment with each mare, cupping the wide heads in her hands and whispering to them in the Shin’a’in language that she had learned for them.

These mares were her pride, the culmination of breeding that had started with the few mares sold to her so many years ago by the Clan Liha’irden at the Shin’a’in Horse-fairs. Though she had been young, she had taken the advice of the hawk-faced Clanswoman Tarma shena Tale’sedrin, and Liha’irden had made good on the Clanswoman’s promise to her. Each year, they had made sure she had the pick of what they were selling, and even a few that they would never sell to any but her, once they had seen that she valued their horses as highly as they deserved.

False dawn was starting its approach when Laeka left the corral. Taking a deep breath of the crisp autumn air, she turned toward the woods with anticipation. Her step lightened as she walked among the trees, letting the mood of the quiet forest settle into her. Her family would doubtless not approve of these early walks, but then she had never feared the woods as others did. After all, her corner of the Pelagiris was far from the wild and strange places where unknown creatures made their homes. A smile lifted one corner of her mouth, softening the deep creases formed by wind and wear.
At my age
, she thought,
I think I’ve earned the right to walk where I will
.

A scratching, dragging noise in the brush caught her attention, and she held herself in midstride, turning her head by slow degrees to locate the sound. As she listened, her mind sorted out the pieces of noise. An animal, large and probably injured. Laeka moved forward, keeping her own steps as silent as she could, ignoring the twinge in her right leg as she placed her feet with care.

The dragging steps ceased, and Laeka heard the soft thud of a body falling to the earth, followed by rasping, panting breaths. Shifting her direction to the right, she crept forward until she stood concealed by a great tree on the edge of a clearing. Taking shallow, quiet breaths, she prepared to crane her head behind one of the branches to see what lay in the clearing.

:I am no threat to you. I need your help.:
Laeka froze, her eyes darting around her, but she saw nothing.

:Please.:
The voice was fainter now, and Laeka realized that she had only heard it inside her head. She peered around the tree into the clearing. The shaggy animal slumped on the bracken, pain-shadowed eyes focused on hers, was larger than any wolf she had ever seen, despite the similar shape of its head. She guessed that it would stand as tall as her waist, if not more.

:Please.:
The head sagged down, resting on two great paws. Laeka read the pain and exhaustion in both the voice and the body as it lay, its limbs crumpled beneath it. Though the structure of the body looked more feline than canine, there was no grace or ease in its movements now.

“I did not realize that
kyree
dwelled so close to this edge of the forest,” she said, keeping her voice quiet and stepping into the clearing.

:Not so very close,:
the
kyree
responded.
:But you were still closer than the nearest Vale.:

“What brings you to me instead, and in such a state?” She moved over to the wounded creature, kneeling down in the dead leaves beside it.

:My cubs.:
Laeka nodded. The voice had somehow
felt
female.
:Bandits found our cave, stole them, and left me for dead. They plan to sell my cubs, to make a handsome profit.:
Despite the
kyree’s
exhaustion, her helpless fury rang in her mind-voice.

“They would need to travel far, I think, to find someone fool enough to buy them.” Although it would bring great prestige to have a
kyree
for a pet, to do so would surely incur the anger of the Tayledras, who looked on themselves as guardians and protectors of the creatures of the Pelagiris. And the Hawkbrothers were not known for kindness to abusers of those they protected, most especially the sentient races like the
kyree
.

Laeka’s hand closed into a fist on her thigh. Yes, there were always those who would seek to take advantage of the weak, innocent, or powerless. Long, long ago, she had dreamed of taking up the sword to battle in defense of the weaker kind. She had still been young when she had learned from the Tale’sedrin Clanswoman what the reality of that life would have been and had realized that she had not the temperament for the task. It seemed that the dream, however, had slumbered on in her heart. “So, what can a half-dead
kyree
and an old horse trainer do against a troop of bandits?”

The
kyree
tilted her head at Laeka, a half-question in her eyes, for her voice had rung with determination.

“Ruvan. Huh. There might be buyers there who do not fear the Tayledras. How far are they?”

Laeka sat back on her heels, turning her head up to the canopy above her while she thought. With her daughter Jeatha gone to the trade fairs in Mornedealth, the stables were as lightly guarded as possible, so more outriders could travel with the string and protect the valuable animals. To take away any more guards, even for a day or two, would mean risking the entire breeding line, should the bandits come further south, and it would be foolish to send anyone but the trained guards. Foolish to send any of her people.

She stood, brushing leaves and fir needles from her leggings. “I will be back in a little while. I promise you, we will free your younglings.”

Laeka trotted back down the path, her mind making plans and as soon discarding them. In the few minutes it took her to reach the stables, she had the essence of her plan clear in her head.

“Who goes?” Meros’ voice rang out as she approached, and she sighed in relief. Meros, she thought, she could talk around to her side. They had been friends for a long time, ever since the guard’s ornery gray gelding (
not
one of her breeding) had bashed in her right leg. Her knee, never properly healed, throbbed at the memory. With quick words, she explained the situation and outlined her plan.

“You’re a fool, Laeka. How in Agnira’s name do you expect this to work?”

“Do you have a better idea? We can’t just let those cubs be used by a Blood Mage.”

“Send the
kyree
to the Tayledras.”

“And how long do you think that will take? Why do you think she came to me, traveling ahead of the bandits instead of going in the opposite direction to the Tayledras?”

“Well, shouldn’t someone else go instead of you? Or at least take someone with you.”

“Who else should go? The
kyree
will recognize me, at least. Who else could be spared? Certainly not any of the guards. Duty roster’s thin enough already, with Jeatha gone with the outriders. Unlike the other trainers and horsefolk, I at least have a little bit more than the rudiments of training with the sword. It’s not so far-fetched as you think.”

Meros looked at her long and hard in the growing light, then finally nodded. “I’ll help you gather what you’ll need.”

The sun was not even fully risen when Laeka returned to the forest, this time mounted on the intelligent coppery mare that was her favorite, the lead lines of another mare and a gelding tied to the pommel of her saddle. She wore a leather jerkin and breeches now, and a sword hung at her side. It was an unfamiliar weight, a reminder of the reality of what she was attempting. When she practiced with the horses that would be sold to fighters, she never actually bore the weapons for very long.

The
kyree
had not moved from the clearing, although she sat half up on her side when Laeka approached. Dismounting, Laeka dug a small jar and a larger, wrapped package from one of her saddlebags and came forward to the
kyree
. In the stronger light, she could see the matted blood in the animal’s fur and was glad she had made sure to bring the jar.

“I brought food and some of our strongest healing ointment for you,” she said, unwrapping the raw meat and laying it on the ground before opening the jar. “It will only take a few minutes to apply, and you will be much the better for it.” While the
kyree
ate, Laeka used swift, gentle strokes to spread the sharp, clean-smelling salve over the barely healed cuts and gashes, kneading it into the muscles where she noticed swelling. Even as she worked, she could see the
kyree
lifting her head, becoming more alert as the pains eased.

“Now, can you stand and walk, even just a few steps?”

:Thank you, yes. The rest has been good.:
The
kyree
shifted her legs beneath her, then pushed to her feet, swaying only slightly.

Laeka stood and walked over to the horses, pulling at the lead line on the chestnut gelding to bring him to where the
kyree
stood. He shied at first from the strange scent, then quieted, and Laeka noticed a look of concentration in the
kyree’s
eyes.

Laeka nodded her understanding of the
kyree’s
manipulation of her animals’ minds. “Speed is more important.” She gestured, and the gelding bent his knees and folded halfway to the ground. With Laeka’s guidance, the
kyree
walked over and climbed onto the gelding’s lowered back, settling herself on the pad that Meros and Laeka had rigged onto the gelding’s saddle. One hand on the
kyree
to steady her, Laeka tugged at the gelding’s bridle, and he rose back up.