Soulbinder (Book 3) (18 page)

Joseph grunted. “There’s nothing magical about a jacoya root.” He put the bottle back, then reached for a needle and thread. “And if you don’t want this to leave a scar, you’ll do as I say.”

“It’s not like I haven’t gotten scars before.” Kara glanced over at him. “One more won’t really matter.”

“Let’s try to avoid scarring all the same,” said Joseph, threading the needle as he spoke. “Now give me your arm.”

The young woman obeyed, holding out her bare arm to the scout. She had rolled her sleeve up to the shoulder, revealing the entire length of her white flesh down to her delicate fingers.

Joseph took her arm gently. He hesitated for a moment.

Kara sat very still, feeling the warmth of his hand on her skin. She looked up to see him gazing at her. “Joseph--” she whispered, feeling her mouth start to go dry.

The scout didn’t move.

The door to the room suddenly opened. “Well,” said Maklavir as he entered, “there’s only one other room available, so it looks like things will be cozy tonight.”

Joseph was already hurriedly stitching up the wound, his attention focused completely on his work.

Kara stared down at him, her face suddenly flushed.

“Not that I see the point anyway,” the diplomat continued. “It’s practically morning by now.” He moved to the small fireplace, warming his hands in the glow. “Where is Kendril, anyway? Regnuthu take that man. If we had gotten rooms back when we had first arrived, like I suggested, we wouldn’t be in this mess. Where he gets—”

The diplomat paused, his eyes falling on Joseph and Kara for the first time. He tilted his head back slightly, looking at them carefully. “I say,” he said coolly, “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“Just a little wound dressing,” said Kara, her face flushing even more.

Joseph continued to work away, absorbed in his task.

Maklavir gave a short nod of his head. His eyes flickered between the two of them. “Right.” He turned back to the fire, rubbing his hands briskly together. “As I was saying, it’s just two rooms, so it looks like we’ll be three and one.” He glanced over his shoulder at Kara. “Feel free to pick whichever one you like better. The other one is right across the hall.”

“There,” said Joseph quietly, tying off the thread. “With those ointments it should heal pretty fast.” He moved his fingers gently around the red cut. “You’re lucky it just got you in the arm.”

“I heard the horses were wounded,” said Maklavir. “Will they be alright?”

“Just mine,” said Joseph as he got to his feet. “And he’ll be fine.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small circular disk made of metal. He held it up. The firelight gleamed off it. “It’s some kind of throwing blade. It doesn’t cut very deep. I think it’s designed more for distracting than killing.”

Maklavir gave the blade a curious glance. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I have,” came an ominous voice from the doorway. Kendril stomped into the room, melted snow on his cloak and trousers. “We should all get some sleep. We have a busy day tomorrow.”

Maklavir gave a pained sigh. “Honestly, Kendril, Galla’s dead, and you’ve gotten your necklace or whatever it is back. Surely we can go now.” His face brightened. “Or, even better, see the town a bit? It’s been years since I’ve visited the Ice Gardens.”

Kendril gave the diplomat a sidelong glance, his face dark with purpose. “Did it ever occur to you, Maklavir, that whoever killed Galla to get
this
,” he held up the pendant in his gloved fist, “may very well try to kill
us
for it as well?”

The room was deathly silent. Kendril looked at all three of his friends. He tucked the necklace back into his pocket.

“I’m not leaving,” he said finally. “Not until I get some answers.”

By the cold light of morning, the inn’s common room actually looked warm and inviting, something that none of the four companions had seen for a long time. A bright fire roared happily in a nearby hearth. The walls were decorated with old swords and shields, some displaying the crests of important families that had served Vorten and Valmingaard for centuries. The fare was simple yet good, hearty sausage and buttered biscuits hot from the oven.

“Now this,” said Maklavir between bites, “is what I call a breakfast.”

Kendril glanced out the paneled window uneasily as a small group of gendarmes rode by, their muskets slung onto their backs.

“We need to be careful,” he said in a low tone. “After last night I wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s reported us. At the very least they must have found Galla’s body by now, and Maklavir and I were the last ones asking about him.”

Joseph took a bite of a biscuit, chewing on it contemplatively. “It’s a big city. As long as we lie low, we should be alright.”

“So what’s the plan?” Maklavir inquired, stabbing a sausage with his knife.

“The
plan
is to get some answers,” said Kendril, still staring thoughtfully out the window. “We need more information before we can act.”

Maklavir took a bite. “Assuming we need to act at all. I for one am for hightailing it out of here.”

Kara leaned back in her chair. “You don’t care about who killed Galla? Or why they were so desperate to get that pendant?”

The diplomat shrugged. “Idly curious, perhaps, but I certainly don’t see the point in risking my own neck over a piece of jewelry. It’s none of my business, after all.”

“I think it became our business when Galla double-crossed us and left us for dead,” Joseph pointed out.

“And now
he’s
dead. Frankly, I’d rather not join him.”

Kendril’s eyes flickered over to the diplomat. “What you do is your own concern, Maklavir. I’m going to see this to the end. I have to.”

Maklavir crossed his arms, staring skeptically at his friend. “That seems a bit cryptic, old chap. Care to enlighten us as to why this necklace of yours is so important?”

“It may not be,” Kendril admitted. “But I need to know for sure.”

There was silence around the table.

Joseph ran his thumb down his beard thoughtfully, considering his black-cloaked friend carefully. When he spoke, his voice was low against the background buzz of the common room.

“You were right about Galla,” he said slowly. “Twice. We should have listened to you, but we didn’t.” He gave a pensive sigh. “I admit I don’t know what exactly is going on here, but I’m willing to trust you if you say it’s important.”

Kara put down a half-eaten biscuit. “There’s something rotten about all this, that’s for sure. Galla’s killer was no ordinary thief. Did you see the way she moved? No one fights like that.”

Joseph pushed his shoulders back uncomfortably.

Kendril just stared blankly at the plate in front of him.

“She was an assassin,” Kara continued, rubbing vacantly at her wounded arm. “A professional one, too, by the looks of her. She must have been in training most of her life.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Maklavir snorted. “A
female
assassin? Where was she trained? Who teaches a woman to swordfight, much less kill in cold blood?”

Joseph bristled. “Kara can handle a sword just fine, Maklavir, and you know she’s a better shot with a bow than all of us here.”

Kara fingered her biscuit, shaking her head. “No, Joseph, Maklavir is right. Everything I learned about swordplay and archery I picked up myself while working in my brother’s gang.” She looked over at the scout. “This woman was
trained
. There’s no other explanation.” She looked down at her plate again. “And I don’t see how that’s possible.”

“I might know,” said Kendril suddenly, “but I need to make sure before I start making wild guesses.” He glanced out the window again, tapping his hand restlessly against the table for a moment. He looked back at his three friends, leaning in closer.

“The way I see it,” he said, his voice almost a whisper, “we need to do two things. First, we need to find out what this pendant really is and why Galla was killed for it.”

“And second?” Joseph asked, his voice just as quiet.

“Second, we need to track down who in this city wants it, and why.”

“You mean the assassin?” Kara asked.

“Her,” Kendril acknowledged, “and whoever sent her after Galla in the first place.”

Maklavir cupped his head in his hands. “Not
another
conspiracy,” he groaned.

“The carriage,” said Joseph. He straightened up in his chair. “It had drapes on the side, hiding the markings.”

“The driver was just sitting there, waiting for Galla’s killer,” Kara confirmed, her mind racing as well. “It was a private carriage.”

“And private carriages cost money,” Kendril said firmly. “That means there is someone wealthy and influential behind our little trained assassin.”

“And if we find the carriage,” Joseph added, “we find whoever is behind this whole thing.”

“You’re all insane,” Maklavir said through his hands. “Why is it that no one ever listens to me? We could be halfway out of this city by now.”

“You’re welcome to go, Maklavir,” said Kendril, his voice icy.

“Oh, don’t be silly,” said the diplomat with a sarcastic smile. “Of course I’m staying.” He glanced out the window as two other armed gendarmes rode past the inn. “Just don’t blame me when all the dying starts.”

“Noted.” Kendril glanced around at his three friends, clasping his hands together on the table. “Now here’s the plan.”

The streets of Vorten were filled with people, bustling to and fro across the vast metropolis.

Joseph and Kara walked side by side through the snowy streets, watching the colorful traffic all around them. The massive shape of the Bathhouse loomed over the buildings to their right, hot steam pouring up into the cold blue sky. Sunlight sparkled and glinted off the ice-encrusted snow, crunching under the boots and hoofs of passer-bys.

Kara glanced longingly up at the tiled building.

“I wish we had time to go
there
,” she said as she dodged out of the way of an oncoming wagon. “Maklavir makes it sound so decadent. Hot and cold baths, swimming pools, steam rooms—” She sighed, giving a sad smile. “Tuldor’s beard, what I wouldn’t give for just an hour inside.”

Joseph glanced over at a passing caravan of Merewithian merchants. “Who knows,” he said, trying to keep his voice cheerful, “maybe when this business with the pendant is done, we’ll have some time left over.”

Kara pulled her green cloak further over her shoulders. “That pendant,” she said at last, “it’s important, isn’t it?”

Joseph bit his lip, trying to push the image of Kara bathing out of his mind. “Yes, I think so.” He looked over at the young woman. “To be honest, I don’t really know. Kendril seems pretty concerned about it.”

Kara gave the Bathhouse one last look. “He does, doesn’t he?” Her face tightened with thought. “Almost
nervous
, if that was a word I’d ever apply to him.”

Joseph first reaction was to chuckle at Kara’s comment, but the pit in his own stomach squelched it. “I guess so,” he said.

They walked together in silence for a moment, passing by a string of laughing students.

“Joseph,” said Kara at last, her voice small.

The scout stopped and looked over at her.

“About last night….”

Joseph felt suddenly warm despite the cold air. “Yes?”

Kara glanced away, rubbing her gloved hands together. “I just wanted—” She closed her mouth abruptly. “I just wanted to say…” She looked over at Joseph again. “Thank you. For my arm, I mean.”

Joseph looked down at the snow. “You’re welcome.” He looked up and grinned. “It’s what I do, you know. That and blaze trails.”

Kara laughed. “I’d say you do both very well.” She looked at the red handkerchief around his neck for a moment, her look changing. “What’s that?”

Joseph tilted his head down suddenly self-conscious. “What?”

“That on your handkerchief. It looks like a stain or something.” She reached up a hand to his neck.

“I don’t—”

With one quick motion, she pulled the cloth off, waving it triumphantly in her hand as she jumped back. “Sorry, my mistake.” She gave the scout a disarming smile. “I guess it’s
my
handkerchief now.”

Joseph smiled despite himself, and lunged for the red object.

Kara dodged nimbly out of his way, retreating a few steps away in the snow.

“You should be more careful,” she said. “I
am
a thief, you know.”

“An
ex
-thief, I thought,” said Joseph. He took a couple steps forward. “Alright, you’d better give it up. I’d hate to have to get rough.”

“With me?” Kara gave him an innocent look. “I’m wounded, remember?”

“Apparently not
too
badly.”

She gave another playful step back, tying the handkerchief around her own neck. “What do you think? Does it clash with my shirt?”

Joseph dashed forward quickly, reaching for the red cloth.

With a laugh Kara ducked away.

Laughing himself, Joseph reached for the handkerchief again.

“I say, is there a reason you’re doing that?”

Kendril rubbed his gloved hand against his red cold cheek. “Doing what?”

Maklavir gave his patented sigh. “Looking behind us. You’ve been doing it every thirty seconds since we left the inn.”

Kendril glanced back over his shoulder. “Have I?”

“There you go again.” The diplomat gave an exasperated glance towards the heavens above. “I just
so
enjoy spending time with you, Kendril.”

The Ghostwalker turned his gaze off towards the side of the street. “Likewise, Maklavir.”

They threaded their way down the side street, houses and shops clustered tightly on both sides. Away from the main street the traffic of pedestrians, riders, and carts diminished to a casual trickle. Aside from a few women brushing snow off their front steps, and scattered children playing by the side of the road, there were few people in sight.

“Honestly. All this slush is
destroying
my boots.” Maklavir picked one of his feet up, grimacing as he examined it. “Would you look at the leather? It’s ruined.”