Path of Fate (35 page)

Unbeknownst to her, beneath her tunic, the eyes of her gryphon pendant flared red and subsided.

T
hey overtook Edelsat and rode on into the early-morning hours, until he at last called a halt. When Reisil would have unsaddled and rubbed down her horse, Edelsat took her reins, signaling for his men to do similarly for her companions.

“You have more need of rest than we.”

Reisil nodded gratefully, swimming in a thick haze of exhaustion. She went away a few paces and dropped to the ground, curling up in her cloak and falling instantly into oblivion.

Edelsat woke them in the gray light of dawn, handing them each a cold biscuit with sausage and a hard-boiled egg.

“I sent a couple of scouts on ahead,” he reported as they set out. “If the kidnappers have left Praterside, the scouts will pick up their trail.”

“They haven’t,” Reisil said. It was the first time she’d spoken that morning, her head feeling as if it were submerged in mud. “According to Saljane, none of them have stirred out-of-doors since last evening.”

“That’s strange,” Edelsat said. “What are they waiting for?”

Reisil didn’t answer. She could think of only one reason. Her hands spasmed on the reins and she did not look at Kebonsat. She hoped they would arrive in time to save Ceriba’s life.

They rode hard despite the difficult terrain. By midmorning, they found themselves dropping quickly out of the foothills onto a flat plain of waving green grasses, stirrup-high, and no trees for miles.

“If we keep our pace, we can be there an hour after noon,” Edelsat informed Kebonsat when they paused to water their mounts. Edelsat glanced at Reisil with a question in her eyes. She shook her head.

“Saljane has seen nothing of them. They sleep late.”

Her lips didn’t want to shape the words, for a dread certainty of what must be happening to Ceriba in that inn made her nauseous.

She at last looked at Kebonsat, and though his face remained stiffly unyielding, she saw in his eyes that he was rapidly drawing the same conclusion. He glanced about to each of them, seeking reassurance that it could not be so. Reisil could only give a little shake of her head. Lying would do no good. Sodur laid a hand on Kebonsat’s shoulder.

“Let’s get moving,” he said in an implacable voice.

“We have business with these vermin that will wait no longer.”

The ride to Praterside seemed endless, though they rode swiftly: now at a gallop, now at a long trot along the wagon track serving as a road.

A gentle hill carried them upward to a vantage point above the dusty town on the edge of a sluggish brown river. Fields of barley and beans skirted the walls on the eastern side of the river. Across the muddy ribbon, shepherds tended red-brindled dairy cows and squat, black-faced sheep. Clinging to the river’s edge, cottonwoods and willows sank thirsty roots into the muddy soil.

The place had the appearance of a quiet comfort and gentle coziness. Yet somewhere inside that aura of domestic sanctuary, vicious men did unspeakable things to a helpless young woman.

Reisil felt a raw blade of ice drive down her spine, and fury hardened her jaw. For the first time in her life she wished she knew how to fight, how to hurt. The feeling made her ill.

Needing comfort, she took advantage of their sudden halt to summon Saljane. The goshawk streaked from her perch in the stand of trees.

Reisil held up her fist and Saljane settled onto it, stretching her neck to rub her beak on Reisil’s cheek. Reisil returned the affectionate greeting, scratching the dense feathers on the back of Saljane’s head.

They had been separated for days and Reisil was stunned at how much she had missed her
ahaladkaaslane
. It was almost as if she’d hobbled along without her sense of smell and now it came rushing gloriously back. Parts of her that had gone stiff and dry with missing Saljane swelled and Reisil’s emotions twitched back into balance. The desire to hurt withered and melded into something else: a desire for justice.

She stared into Saljane’s amber eyes, their minds touching in agreement and understanding.

~
I have missed you,
she said.

Pleasure. Fierceness. Love.

“She’s marvelous,” admired Edelsat, breaking their communion.

“She is, isn’t she.”

Reisil asked about Ceriba.

~
Men move about. Not in a hurry.

Reisil relayed that to her companions.

“I say we set men on both gates and take a small force inside. They aren’t expecting trouble. It would be safer for your sister if we took them out quietly, one by one, rather than make a frontal assault. They’ll likely slit her throat if they see us coming.”

Edelsat spoke bluntly and Kebonsat made a strangled sound in his throat, but gave a jerky nod of agreement.

“We’ll need them alive,” Sodur said. “Though we believe at least one must be wizard—we can’t let that one use his magic.”

“Alive?” Edelsat shook his head, looking at his men, who, Reisil realized for the first time, looked sizzlingly angry. “That may not be possible. My men know what this is about and they want blood.”

“Make it possible,” Sodur ordered flatly. “Without them to confess and identify their masters, we may not be able to stop the renewal of hostilities.”

Edelsat stroked his jaw, rubbing his chin into his palm. After several moments he spoke, his deep voice strained.

“A word, Kebonsat. And you, healer. Privately.”

He walked away several paces, out of the hearing of their companions. Reisil exchanged a puzzled look with Sodur before following, transferring Saljane to her shoulder as she did.

Edelsat’s expression was grim and faintly uncertain. In that moment Reisil realized how young he must be, only a handful of years older than she, probably close in age to Kebonsat.
And we are going to prevent a war,
she marveled.
A few weeks ago I wouldn’t have imagined I could do more than set a bone or settle an argument.

“My father put me and my men under your direct command for the defense of Patverseme,” he said to Kebonsat. “Though he ordered me not to reveal this information, I believe it my duty to you as my superior to report all information that might aid in our success.” He eyed Kebonsat as if aware that he was cutting the point too fine, and then looked away. “It will explain my father’s recent decisions, beyond what he told you. I am revealing this in your presence,” he said to Reisil, “for reasons that will become obvious.”

“Slippery honor,” Kebonsat muttered, and Edelsat’s face flushed as he straightened, baring his teeth.

“Maybe so. But careful how you judge.” He swallowed, then continued. “Two weeks ago, riders in official messenger livery appeared at our gates. They claimed to bear messages that could only be communicated to my father in private. Being who they were, my father took them into his study immediately. He met with them for fifteen minutes and then they departed.

“After a while, I went in to see what had passed and found my father collapsed in his chair, white as death, eyes blank as the sun. I shook him, but he did not rouse. I shouted and splashed water in his face. At last he came ’round, though I thought he’d been robbed of his mind. He stared without knowing me, and though his mouth worked and spittle ran down his chin, he made no sounds. So it was for more than a day. I did not leave his side. My sisters and brother, my mother, I refused them all entrance. They could not see my father in such a state.

“Night fell on the day after and I was lighting candles. I did not expect him to speak and so when he did, I dropped my taper. It was as if a ghoul from a child’s story had spoken in a voice from beyond the grave, cold, empty, far away. He had not yet recovered his wits, or he would not have told me what I am telling you now. Later he made me promise never to reveal it. But I cannot do that. I cannot!” He ran agitated fingers through his hair, pulling hanks of it free from its braid.

Reisil felt a pang of pity for Edelsat, torn between his father and personal honor. She glanced at Kebonsat to see his reaction. The condemnation for Edelsat had disappeared, and now he appeared both curious and concerned. Not for the first time she found herself admiring him—he was not so proud that he would not hear the other side, that he wouldn’t set aside his own concerns and open his heart to another man’s troubles.

“Messengers will deliver any message, for a price, and are above reproach in their confidentiality They never disclose secrets. They would die before that—and many have, killed by their own hands or the torturer’s.

“They are too expensive to hire for any but for things of the greatest import, so when one appears on your doorstep, you meet with him without delay. Two mean cataclysm, devastation. Gravest tidings. In this case, the two messengers came straight from the bowels of the Demonlord.”

Kebonsat’s hand fell instinctively on the pommel of his sword and Reisil touched the amulet beneath her shirt. Edelsat drew a ragged breath and continued, his hands dangling against his thighs.

“They told my father that men would be riding through his lands with a woman—your sister—and that he must provide supplies, shelter and horses for them. They explained that she had been kidnapped, that she might ask for succor, and he must refuse. If he did not cooperate, our people would suffer. My father refused them violently and tried to throw them out. They had other ideas. They forced my father into a chair and held him by arcane force. Then one turned insubstantial—wraithlike is what my father called it. He let out a strange call—like a song of deepest yearning—and it was answered by my mother.”

Edelsat paused, breathing hard, his face red, tears tracking down his cheeks as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

“My father watched as the messenger-wraith gave him a malignant smile and drew my mother into his embrace, kissing her like a lover, deep and long. Then he let her go, patting her backside as she departed the room. She never remembered she’d come, never remembered what had happened. Nor did I see her enter or depart, though I never took my eyes from the door. Wizardry.” He snarled the word, spitting. “They told my father that his wife would serve as his example. If he did not do as he was told, his children and people would suffer the same fate. Then they departed, leaving him as I found him.

“The next day my mother began to get sick. A slight fever. It grew swiftly worse. The next morning she was burning up. She couldn’t walk, tripping and falling over nothing when always she had had the grace of a dancer. Her mouth turned white with red blisters. They spread over her face and down her body.”

Edelsat made an agonized sound.

“Then her bones began to break. She broke a finger sewing. She tried to laugh it off as clumsiness, but her teeth began to crumble into powder. Father had her put to bed with nurses to tend her. But even the slightest movement—turning her head—would break something.”

Edelsat’s voice evened out and he spoke like a stone statue come to life. “The stench of her skin rotting on her flesh was like nothing I’ve ever smelled, or ever hope to again.”

“But even so, your father refused them. I saw,” Reisil said softly in the silence.

“Aye. He dared not rescue your sister, but he would not harbor such filth either. When you arrived, he committed himself to your aid, knowing what must happen to my mother, our family. You have never seen a man love a woman as much as he loves her. But whatever you think, he knows his honor.

“You wondered, no doubt, why he met you in the courtyard, not inviting you into the keep,” he said to Kebonsat. “My father fears the illness will spread. For days, only a few trusted servants and he himself have been allowed to see my mother. He sent my sisters and brother up into the mountains to our hunting lodge. I have been living in the barracks. He has made many offerings to Ellini, to no avail. She does not answer.” He turned to Reisil. “He hopes that Amiya might.”

Reisil wiped tears from her face and nodded. “I will do my best to bring healing. I hope it will not be too late.”

“Thank you—it is all the hope I have. But I tell you this”—he turned back to Kebonsat—“so that you will understand what we face in this battle, and why my father acted as he did.”

Kebonsat reached out and grasped the other man’s shoulder. “I have misjudged your father. He could have made no other decision. That he chose to aid us at all is evidence of genuine honor. Let us be about our business so that we may bring relief to your family as soon as may be.”

It was swiftly decided that Kebonsat, Edelsat, Sodur, Juhrnus and eight other men would make a sortie on the inn, while the rest of the company would be split in two, guarding both gates.

“I shall come with you,” Reisil told her companions when they would have left her in the safety of the soldiers. “I will not be gainsaid in this. I am no fighter—I will not try to pretend otherwise. I leave that all to you, and Saljane shall defend me.”

She stroked the goshawk’s head as Saljane let out a strident
kek-kek-kek-kek
.

“But Ceriba will need me, sooner rather than later. And she may want a woman.” She looked at Kebonsat, who paled. But she could not be gentle for him now, not when she must think of Ceriba’s welfare first. “You know what Upsakes said he had in mind for her. That they stayed in Praterside as long as they have likely means that they have been at her, with no intention of keeping her alive. If so, Ceriba may not have time to wait for me.”

“She is right,” Sodur said in his deep voice. “Not only that, but if they know we are coming, they will kill her. Our odds of saving your sister improve if Reisiltark is with us. Time will be of the essence.”

“Fine,” Kebonsat snapped, his face gray. “But you stay back and out of the way. I’ll not have you on my conscience.”

 

They entered the town quietly, like dusty ghosts. At the sight of armed men in tabards of the Houses Vadonis and Exmoor, not to mention the
ahalad-kaaslane,
with Lume trailing at Sodur’s heels and Esper and Saljane staring with unblinking eyes, the townspeople retreated into the safety of their dwellings.