Parasite Soul (18 page)

Her treatment in court rankling in the back of her mind, to say
nothing of her impending marriage to that worthless fop, Prince Stalllix, Tiera
was unable to quell a sudden urge to connect with poor Merequio, her fallen
brother. As she passed his sealed chamber, she began to feel a little
reckless. What harm did her father feel it could do to seek solace in his
rooms, to commune with his spirit? Certainly it beat the alternative of
having Farrow thrown from her tower, which would temporarily lift her spirits
but force her to endure the tedium of training a new handmaiden.

Glowering at its stolid guardian, Warrings-whatever, she hurried
past the forbidden door and made the ascent to her chambers, her mind seething
with resentment for all that she was denied.

One day, father
, she thought
savagely.
One day, you will no longer be able to control me. The
kingdom will be mine; I will decide the fate of your precious general, I will
have this farcical marriage annulled, and you will not be able to keep me from
my brother’s memory forever
.

The tiny dilapidated cabin proved only barely adequate to shelter
Simon and his companions against the torrential rains which were attempting to
drown the foothills of the Banshee’s Teeth. Niu had been the first to
spot it through the thickening gloom, no mean feat, tangled in weeds and
crowded by trees as it was. The weary fugitives struggled inside just as
the wind began to howl and rain began to drum the earth with the kind of
passion which seemed to have fled Simon’s life.

The little wooden ruin, long abandoned, was drafty and
unstable. One young elm had grown straight up through the ceiling, while
an oak had twisted its way out a window, rupturing the frame in the
process. The floor, which had presumably always been dirt, was a mat of
moss and unhealthy looking grass. Still, provided they stuck to the one
corner of the cabin which wasn’t threatening immediate collapse, the travelers
were afforded some protection from the angry elements, if not comfort.

Simon and Niu warmed one another with their body heat, which Simon
might have found pleasant if his mind hadn’t been miles away. Sasha, who
had no need for warmth, stood motionless at one window, getting soaked.
The intruders had disrupted a family of mountain squirrels, which occasionally
checked in to berate them angrily from a safe distance. Simon’s theory
was that the bruxa was attempting to lure them closer through inaction; she
looked hungry.

Several days had passed following their flight from Brand. The
three of them had fled east across the fields, taking refuge with isolated
farmers who were ill-enough informed of current events that if they suspected
the trio’s outlaw status, they made no issue of it. Simon abandoned this
approach at the third such farmhouse when Sasha, forbidden to eat their hosts,
had slaughtered an entire coop of chickens instead. Eventually their
travels had brought them to the forested foothills of Cannevish’s greatest
mountain range, which in accordance with the directions of their hosts, they
were obliged to traverse to reach the kingdom’s eastern border.

Negotiating this gloomy fortress of trees had left them fatigued and
undernourished. The three of them spoke little. Niu had tentatively
questioned Simon as to his experiences in Brand, but let the matter drop when
Simon greeted her queries with monosyllabic hostility. The truth was,
Simon was still trying to piece events together himself. Vanyon’s divine
intervention was his only explanation as to how three apparently healthy
guardsmen had simultaneously been struck down, facilitating his escape.
Thinking back upon the scene, it seemed dreamlike, incredible.

Worse, he felt no closure in the matter of his father’s death.
His mind flitting back and forth between possibilities, he could hardly credit
that it had happened. His inability to visit a genuine grave leant an
unreal edge to Veter’s demise. He often imagined that the most important
man in his life had somehow managed to escape his guards; that he’d crawled
back out of the swamp like the wendigo, torn the rope free from his neck, and
disappeared into the wilds, to safety. He knew these were the fantasies
of a child, but without a corpse to provide finality, he could not shake them.

In those moments when his personal guilt leant weight to the reality
of his father’s death, he indulged in a different fantasy, wherein the spirit
of the dead man had reached out from the afterlife to protect his son from the
soldiers. Would Vanyon allow such a thing? Simon didn’t know, but
he longed for it to be true, as it meant that he had not forfeited his father’s
love through his boundless foolishness.

All he felt certain of was that life continued beyond death; that
Niu’s strange foreign philosophies were wrong and his father was safe in
Vanyon’s kingdom. Or
did
he know that? Could he be
sure
?
What if Niu
was
in the right of it? Was there anything he
truly
knew, beyond question? Simon had never felt so lost or, if he was honest,
frightened. He’d even been desperate enough to turn to Sasha, the bruxa
being proof that life could indeed continue after mortal death, but her
response was not encouraging.

“We have died twice,” she’d told him. “Once as a mortal, once
as a vampire. Neither time have we experienced a sign of anything beyond
death but nothingness. If we had souls, they did not return with
us. Only our memories were returned to mortal form. We do not
remember any sense of existence in that void.”

They hadn’t been the words Simon had wanted to hear, so he’d
considered them only as briefly as possible. The vampiric witch was
hardly a sane or reliable witness, after all.

“I wish you wouldn’t call yourself ‘we’,” he’d muttered
instead. The bruxa’s dual nature hurt his head.

Sasha had regarded him impassively. “There is no Afterworld of
which I am aware,” she’d rephrased succinctly. Determined that she was
wrong, Simon chose to cling to those last five words:
of which I am aware
.

If only to prevent himself from dwelling upon the tatters of his
life, Simon turned his mental energies toward plans of getting Niu to
safety. He might, at least, be able to make amends to her. Jynn was
miles to the east – Simon couldn’t guess the distance, but
far
seemed
likely – and the Banshee’s Teeth were a formidable barrier. No matter
what the obstacles, however, he was determined that she would make it home
safely.

Of course, she’d made it clear that misfortune might well await her
in her own country, as well. She’d been gifted to the Minus family as a
punishment, he recalled, and her life might be worth very little in Jynn. What,
then were the other possibilities? Hiding in the wilds, as he’d
previously considered, held little appeal for him. Could they attempt to
settle in one of Cannevish’s neighboring kingdoms? Might any of them accept
foreign settlers?

With these and other worries whirring incessantly in his head, Simon
had been enjoying very little sleep.

At least their nourishment and hydration woes were temporarily
suspended. The heavens were presently granting abundant water, while
outside the cabin, the wild remnants of a once-tended garden provided carrots,
potatoes, and other vegetables. Sasha was Simon’s most immediate concern;
her diet being exclusively of blood, Simon had no illusions that she would turn
on her traveling companions if faced with the possibility of starvation.
How he might stop her when that time came was unclear, and he hoped Niu had
been giving the problem some thought, as she was much more adept at
troubleshooting than he was.

The rain hammered belligerently on the roof of the crumbling
structure for what felt like hours. Simon expected the soggy, drooping
ceiling to buckle at any moment. He had to trust that it would hold, that
he was meant to be here, that perhaps that the gods had sent the storm as some
form of as yet inscrutable opportunity.

He looked down at Niu, nestled next to him. Her wet hood was
pulled back, her eyes closed. Bedraggled though she was, he saw only the
beauty lurking beneath her unflattering exhaustion, and wondered for the
umpteenth time whether she’d put a spell on him. He desperately wanted to
stroke her hair, but wasn’t sure how the gesture would be received. His
hand extended then curled, indecisively, several times before settling
despondently in his lap. Clearing his throat, he spoke instead.

“Do… do you… are you sure you want to go? To Jynn?” he asked
clumsily. He longed for her to say
It doesn’t matter, wherever you go
I will follow and we will be together forever
. The melancholy
fatalism blanketing him knew that would not be the case.

Niu cracked one eye open.

“At times, yes. More than anything,” she answered after some
reflection. “The peril is as great for me at home as it is here, but it is my
home.”

“I’ll take you there.”

“That may prove easier said than accomplished. After what
happened in your home town they will redouble their efforts to lay their hands
on us. And if we get to Jynn…” Her voice caught. “You will not be
welcomed. The people of Jynn do not love outsiders. And I…”

“What happened to you in Jynn?” Simon asked before he could stop
himself. He recalled her earlier reticence on the subject, but as ever
his tongue defied his brain.

Niu sighed. Simon couldn’t tell if she was irritated or
resigned. A moment of silent stretched.

“I told you I had a lover. Cihau was his name.” Her
voice softened. “He was magnificent. A dancer and a fire-eater, a
wonderful entertainer with the… I do not know how to translate it. An
instrument of my people. Every day in the streets of Sindhai, people
would stop to watch his amazing performance and give him money. It was
easy to fall in love with Cihau. I made many unnecessary trips to market
just to watch him move. He was incredible. He mesmerized me.
And eventually he noticed me.”

Simon nodded. He hated this other man already, but he said
nothing.

“Eventually, he noticed me also. We spoke, we drank
together. I sang for him and he taught me to play his instrument.
We… became lovers.” Her voice caught. “At this time, I was a
handmaiden for the Princess of Jynn. A handmaiden is all I have been,
since I was young enough to remember. Only my mistress has changed.”

Simon maintained his silence. Niu was finally opening up, and
he didn’t want to break the spell.

“Cihau, he… we met again and again, for many weeks, and we talked
seriously of running away together. Cihau had saved up much coin, and I
had some of my own. Only my loyalty to my mistress prevented me from
accepting his offer. Princess Tau was kind to me, and I did not wish to,
as your people would say, stab her in the back. But then…” Her eyes
took on a faraway cast and she shifted uncomfortably. “Cihau got the idea
into his head that he wanted to see the inside of the palace. Not only
see, but…” She smiled sadly. “But perhaps I should not continue.”

“Please do,” Simon said breathlessly.

She hesitated. “He… he wished for he and I to make love in the
princess’ own bed. This fantasy became an obsession. I in turn was
obsessed with his happiness, so…” She trailed off, eyes distant.

A chill of foreboding competed with a surge of jealousy for Simon’s
attention. “And… did you…?”

Niu shook her head. She’d begun to tremble ever so slightly,
but her voice was still firm. “No. We had a plan. Cihau was a
master of parkour, and…”

“Parkour?” The word was foreign to Simon.

“He could scale even the most featureless buildings in the
city. He taught me some of his techniques, although I never became quite
as skilled.”

Simon nodded. He would never forget Niu’s arrival at the third
story window of the inn in Vingate.

“He reached the balcony of Princess Tau’s chambers where I waited,
but one of the guards or advisors must have seen him. The very walls have
eyes in the palace of Sindhai. He had barely unbuttoned his shirt before
we were interrupted and arrested.”

Simon sensed that she had no plans to continue and elected not to
press her. It wasn’t difficult to fill in what had happened next.
Silence shrouded the cabin for a delicate moment until Sasha interjected
without any semblance of decorum: “So, did they execute him?”

Niu stared at the bruxa for a moment, then her mouth twisted into a
thin and humorless smile.

“They did,” she murmured. This time, a tremor found its way
into her voice.

“Why didn’t they kill you too?” Sasha wondered, her eyes gleaming
eerily in the half-light.

“Princess Tau was fond of me.” Niu wrapped her arms tightly across
her chest in an effort to stop her convulsive trembling. “Perhaps she
even understood our transgression, although she could hardly allow it to go
unpunished. She devised a punishment that would allow my survival but
would…” A dull thud interrupted her. “Sasha!”

The bruxa blinked. Simon and Niu sprang to their feet as one,
Simon fumbling for his inadequate sword.

“What?” Sasha demanded, confused. Niu pointed. Sasha looked
down, to where an arrow protruded from the bruxa’s ribcage.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, with interest more than fear. “I didn’t
feel that at all.”

Simon gestured frantically. “Get away from the window!”

“Nonsense,” Sasha said, yanking out the projectile without so much
as a grunt and tossing it aside. She leaned on the rotting sill and
peered out into the rain. “There.”

“There, what? Soldiers?” Simon edged along the wall and
glanced out into the grey murk, wondering what it would feel like to take an arrow
in the eye. He saw nothing but the overgrown garden and endless trees, grey and
desolate in the rain. Whomever Sasha had spotted was invisible to him.

“Not soldiers. Bandits perhaps, or hunters.”

“How many?”

“Several.” The bruxa showed her teeth. “Enough for a good
meal.”

Simon didn’t want to think about that, but he didn’t want to be shot
full of arrows either, so he didn’t gainsay his undead companion. He and
Niu, who had unsheathed her daggers, watched helplessly as Sasha launched
herself over the windowsill and out into the storm.