She Who Has No Name (The Legacy Trilogy) (24 page)

Several times, the surly Koian men, ambling along on their horses, noted Samuel gazing towards their god and frowned back towards him.

‘She’s not what she seems,’ he said to Goodfellow.

Goodfellow seemed startled out of a daydream.  ‘Oh?  What do you mean?’

‘I found the Koian crone when she was lost, but she’s not an old hag at all.’

‘Oh?’ the sandy-haired magician asked.  He was obviously still trying to blink away his previous thoughts.

‘I found her up amongst the rocks.  She’s a girl—at least, she’s not a girl, she’s a woman, about the same age as us.’

Goodfellow laughed as if the thought was preposterous.  ‘You can’t mean it?  Really?  That thing is a woman?’

‘Indeed.’

‘Sorry, Samuel.  I’m gullible, but not
that
gullible.  I’m not falling for it.’

‘I’m not trying to fool you,’ Samuel declared.  ‘It’s true.’

‘Well, I
still
don’t believe you and, even if
she is
, it’s the Koians’ business.  We are magicians, after all.  Ladies should not interest us.  We need to focus on returning the Empress and the heir.’

‘Eric, let me tell you something.  I was distrustful of their god before but
,
now I have seen her
true nature
, I am even more so.  There is something disturbing about her.  I have felt unsettled since that day we found her on the ship and now I know why.  I felt some awful thing aboard that boat, something like I have never felt before—a wordless
,
dreadful fear.  It is her.  Strangely, I felt it long before that day, rising in my blood like poisonous bile.  When I opened the door and found her, I thought my heart would stop.  I don’t know what she is, but I have never been so afraid of any living thing.  Seeing her true form only doubles my concern.’

‘I admit she is strange, Samuel, in appearance and nature, but I do not feel the same trepidation.  Perhaps it’s some inkling into our future you can feel?’

‘I haven’t looked to the future since the first time with Master Celios, when I envisioned the destruction of Cintar.  I am wary of trying to discern such things
,
and perhaps rightfully so.  Look at what it has done to our seer.’

‘It could be a useful ability, Samuel, if only you use it sparingly.  Master Celios has been under constant pressure to foresee the Empire’s way out of this predicament.  Perhaps it is that which has worn him into his current state, rather than the ability itself.’

‘I would not readily look into the future,’ Samuel revealed.  ‘Who can even say if we can change what we can foresee?’

‘We could prepare ourselves,’ Goodfellow said, but Samuel shook his head.

‘I want no more worry or woe than I already possess, Eric.  Even without welcoming these abilities, they come to me readily.  Sometimes, when I awake from my deepest dreams, the memories of people and voices are just fading away.  I cannot recall their words, but I know they are not part of my dream.’

‘Perhaps you could learn to recall these things?’ Goodfellow suggested.

‘That is the last thing I would want.  Better to be deaf and dumb than stricken with such madness.’

Goodfellow seemed to sense that Samuel had fallen into a dark mood and left the conversation at that, leaving him to ride quietly in his saddle. 

Up ahead, Eric was riding beside Ambassador Canyon and in open conversation with the man.  Eric seemed to have befriended everyone in the column, including a fair portion of Orrell’s fighting men, while Samuel had not spoken to any.  Somehow, Eric managed to do everything incredibly well and it was infuriating.  Samuel still judged himself to be the greater magician, but he was reliant on the Argum Stone and a cripple of a magician without it.  Eric was naturally gifted and would one day rival the magicians of history without need for any such magical device.  His magic was pure and strong and efficient
,
and Samuel longed to learn his friend’s secrets, as he knew that Eric had been hiding much of his power from everyone.  Most of all, it annoyed Samuel that Eric had been right, for he knew that if he had been in the same position at Rampeny and had the opportunity to journey to safety, he would had done it in a flash.  Still, he refused to be the first one to give in.

The party was delayed at a shallow stream crossing and they were forced to wait for some time while some of the heavier load from the wagons was carted across by hand.  Orrell’s men worked quickly and efficiently, with barely a grumble.  The magicians could have spelled the items across in a jiffy, but older magicians scorned the use of magic for such trivial work and seemed happy to let the men see to the chore.  Celios, their timekeeper and adviser on such matters, also seemed happy to sit and wait for the job to be done.

Samuel and Goodfellow waited beside the Koian wagon.  Quite
surprisingly
, the men had left their ladies while they went to inspect the stream crossing.  Despite Orrell’s best efforts, the Koians would not be convinced it was a safe place to cross until they had performed a
close
examination for themselves.

‘How much further to this citadel, Magician Goodfellow?’ Lady Wind barked at Goodfellow, who was nearest to the wagon.

‘I don’t know, Lady Wind,’ he replied politely, for even
they
had spoken briefly on the journey and had learnt something of each other’s titles. 

To that, the woman only shifted impatiently in her seat.

‘Are you enjoying the journey?’ Samuel asked of the god-woman, but young Lady River beside mistook the question
as being directed at
her.

‘Yes, I am,’ she replied, appearing quite startled that Samuel had spoken to her.

‘Actually, I meant the question for her,’ Samuel corrected, gesturing towards the costumed woman.

The plumed god-woman turned her head towards Samuel with a rustling of feathers, but said nothing, while Lady River looked away nervously.

‘You should not address our god, Magician,’ Lady Wind instructed, swivelling around in her seat.  ‘She is above us mortals.  We reply to her when beckoned or as the rituals demand.  That is all.’

‘Is she not a god in a woman’s body?’ Samuel asked, probing.  ‘I have seen you take her meals and water, so she has mortal needs like the rest of us.’

‘Of course,’ the stern Lady Leaf replied from beside her
companion
on the front seat.  ‘We have stated as such already.’

‘Then why does she dress like this?  It seems very...primitive,’ he said, for lack of a better word.

‘We do not expect you to understand our ways, Magician,’ Lady Wind responded.  ‘We do nothing without reason and we do not question when you behave in a way that even inbreds would consider disgraceful in our land.  Even your existence is an affront to us and our ways.  We are grateful for your hospitality, nevertheless,’ she added with a formal nod of her head.

‘Still,’ Samuel continued, ‘she did nearly lose herself.  Despite being a god, I can see she depends on you for everything.  If we are to continue on our mission, that will be a liability.  We could be entering hostile territory.  Dressed like this, she will
draw
attention from the enemy.  I’m sure you must have considered it?’

The two matronly ladies seemed to contemplate this.

‘I see your point, Magician,’ Lady Wind finally said.  ‘We will discuss it at length.’

With that
,
they each fac
ed
forward
s again
and the god-woman swivelled her head back to the front, never having shown any hint of expression or emotion all the while.  Samuel wondered if the sight of her beneath her regalia had actually been a dream.

They camped on the far
side of the
river, for it was already getting late once they had crossed.  Orrell’s men took delight in bathing themselves in the natural
,
waist-deep pools they had found along its stony edge.  The river had been blessed with the presence of steaming hot springs that turned the freezing mountain waters warm and it was too inviting an opportunity to miss.  Water boiled from one side of the river and fell into pools along with cold water running down the other side, so that the pools ranged in temperature from scalding to freezing, and the men could pick and choose and move from one to another as they preferred. 

The Koian ladies stayed inside their tent, but even their men would not miss the chance to wash, and they dipped themselves into the waters modestly and loosened their ponytails to wash their hair.  The magicians also took the opportunity to wash, throwing aside their robes and scrubbing solemnly amongst the frivolous men.  Samuel was the last to enter, for he disliked the thought of bathing beside Eric while they were still having their differences, but old Tudor kept yelling at him scornfully and
,
finally
,
Samuel gave in, disrobing down to his smalls and easing himself into the steaming water beside the others.

‘I’ve had enough of you two and your endless womanish argument,’ Tudor told them both, scolding them like children.  His face was ruddy from the heat of the pool.  ‘From this point on, I want no more of it.  I don’t care what it is all about—it’s finished!  No more.’

Samuel looked sidelong at his friend.

‘What do you say, Samuel?’ Eric asked him.

‘I have no objection,’ he replied begrudgingly.

‘That sounds like an objection to me,’ Tudor said gruffly.  ‘Go sit in the far pool until you lose your hot head.’

Samuel looked towards where the old man was gesturing, where the water ran clear and untainted from the mountain.

‘That’s freezing.  I’m not going there.’

‘Yes, you are,’ the old man stated.  ‘Go on.  Off you go.  You can come back when some sense has returned to you.  Go on.’

Samuel tried to resist, but Tudor was adamant and Samuel was left with no choice but to tiptoe across the slippery stones to where not even the staunch
est
of Orrell’s men were bathing.  Even the mountain air had him freezing, with the steam rising from his skin.  His feet burned as the icy water ran over his ruddy toes.

‘Get in!’ Tudor demanded, and the others, Orrell’s men included, were all watching on and laughing at his expense.

Painfully, Samuel worked himself into the icy pool, wishing he had some magic to warm himself with.  He withdrew his senses as much as he could, but he could not remove the freezing touch of the water from his mind.  Tudor and the others laughed merrily from their cosy basin, occasionally looking over at him while he shivered in misery. 

Eventually, after his skin had turned blue and even his goosebumps had given up their objections, the old Grand Master called over to him.

‘Are you ready to come back yet?  No more nonsense?’

‘Yes!’ Samuel called back through chattering teeth.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes!’ Samuel called louder.

‘Oh, very well!’ Tudor said.  ‘I suppose you can come back.  Come on; hurry before you die of cold.’

Samuel wasted no time, leaping from the waters and rushing back to be beside the steaming pool occupied by the magicians, with his arms folded and his hands tucked into his armpits for warmth.  It was true that he was now too cold to be annoyed, and his only thought was in getting even with the old man.  He stood above them, perched on the lip of the rocky recess, considering how to make the biggest splash he possibly could.

‘Don’t you dare—’ Tudor began, noticing Samuel standing over his shoulder, but it was too late. 

Samuel leapt from the rocks and balled himself up, splashing down amongst them.  The cold was dispelled from his body immediately, and as he raised his head above the surface and wiped the water from his face, he was greeted by the faces of four saturated magicians.  Old Tudor looked the most amusing of them all, for his grey hair and beard were all wet and matted to his face and he looked back at Samuel sourly, like a cat pulled from a washtub.  Samuel could only laugh.