Soulbinder (Book 3) (4 page)

Kendril caught his arm. “Joseph, don’t be a fool!”

He turned angrily towards the Ghostwalker. “Fool? I’m not the one turning my back on
five hundred coins
, Kendril.” He shook his head. “You know, sometimes I think you
want
to split our group apart.”

The Ghostwalker bristled, but said nothing.

“Guys?” came Kara’s sudden voice from behind them. “What’s going on?”

Kendril turned back to the bar.

Joseph gave him an angry glance. “Kendril doesn’t think Galla’s telling the truth.”

Kara looked back at where Maklavir and the priest were talking at the table. “Well he’s telling the truth about one thing, anyway.” She pulled a small book out from under her cloak and tossed it to Joseph.

He glanced down at it, then back up at Kara. “The Blessed Scriptures?”

The redhead leaned back against the bar. “His saddlebags are filled with them. Other religious stuff, too. Icons, candles, that kind of stuff.”

“You went out and took this from his saddlebag?”

“Wasn’t too hard. His animals are just outside.” Kara cocked her head and gave Joseph a knowing smile. “Don’t worry. I wasn’t going to keep it.”

Kendril turned his head and gave the book in Joseph’s hand a dubious look. “So he’s carrying the stuff he says he is. That doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means he isn’t lying.”

“About
that
,” Kendril returned briskly.

“Look, Kendril,” said Kara in a low voice, “I’m as suspicious as you are of this guy, but so far his story checks out. I think we should go for this.”

The Ghostwalker gave a look over his shoulder back at where Galla was sitting. “I still think this smells like a trap.”

Kara gave a small laugh. “If he’s trying to rob us, the joke’s on him. We don’t have anything of value.”
Kendril said nothing. He tapped the bar with his hand.

“What do you say, Kendril?” asked Joseph.

The Ghostwalker sighed, lowering his head and rubbing his temple. His shoulders slumped in submission. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Chapter 3

The sun was shining brightly on the snow as Maklavir dodged around a passing cart, lifting his cape away from the spattering mud. He waved over at Kendril, who was sitting a few feet away on a worn bench, a glittering sword in his hand. Behind him was the open front of a blacksmith shop, and from inside came the ringing sound of metal upon metal.

Maklavir skipped around a mud puddle. He repositioned the cap on his head as he came up beside the Ghostwalker. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” he said with a deep breath of air.

“It is if you ever get up early enough to see it.” Kendril ran a white cloth down the edge of the long blade, oiling the steel.

Maklavir grinned good-naturedly. “Yes, well I was otherwise occupied. It appears that my gratuitous tip of yesterday was not ill spent.”

“Please,” said Kendril, holding up a hand, “spare me the details.” He lifted the weapon in his hand, searching the bright metal carefully for defects.

Maklavir folded his arms across his chest. “That’s a fine sword,” he said conversationally. “I don’t think I’ve seen it before.”

Kendril held it out at arm’s length, turning it in his hand. The blue and green gems set into the hilt sparkled and danced in the sunlight.

“Jade gave it to me,” he said quietly.

“Ah.” Maklavir nodded. “I haven’t seen you use it.”

“I can’t,” said Kendril. “Not yet.” He grabbed the scabbard off the ground where it lay by his foot. A moment later, the weapon was sheathed.

“So,” said Maklavir as he cleared his throat. “Where are Joseph and Kara?”

“Getting supplies,” Kendril replied vaguely. He rose stiffly to his feet, stretching his back. “Galla wants to leave by noon.”

The diplomat caught the tone in his friend’s voice. “You don’t trust him?”

“No.”

He grinned. “I guess one of us shouldn’t. I for one think he’s a charming chap. Surprisingly well cultured.”

Kendril stuffed his oiling cloth into a pocket of his cloak. “Well that’s just grand.”

Maklavir shrugged. “We’ve been to so many backwater towns, it’s hard to find anyone who can talk intelligently about the latest fashions and gossip. Hardimelaag has come out with a new opera, apparently.” The diplomat sighed. “Though I doubt I’ll ever see it now.”

“Consider yourself lucky. His
Yolanda
was absolutely painful.”

Maklavir gave his companion a startled look. “You’ve seen
Yolanda
?”

Kendril turned from the bench. “Unfortunately.”

The diplomat stepped beside him, shaking his head. “You’re a man of many surprises, Kendril.”

The Ghostwalker grunted. “I try.”

“There.” Kara threw the rope over the last donkey’s back and tightened the pack that hung haphazardly on its side. “More than two weeks’ rations, plus all the blankets and matchcords we could need.” She turned her head, her breath crystallizing in the air. “It should be enough.”

Joseph nodded. He patted one of the animals on the back. The three donkeys stood patiently in a row, their tails whishing and their breath steaming white in the cold.

Galla finished putting the last gold coin into the hand of a pleased-looking shopkeeper who was standing on the steps to his store.

“Anytime you want to do business again,” the shopkeeper said with a tip of his hat, “I’d be happy to help.”

Galla pulled his fur-lined coat up against the chill. “Thank you, but this is all we need for now.”

“You folks trappers, then?” the man continued, eying Joseph and Kara curiously. “Not much game out in the woods this time of year.”

“We’re—” Galla paused, his fingers clutching together nervously for a moment, “surveying, actually. Just trying to find some promising hunting grounds for the spring.”

Joseph looked up from the saddlebag he was adjusting. Galla didn’t return his gaze.

The man shrugged. “All right. Best of luck.” He stamped the snow off his boots and headed back into his store.

Galla turned before the door had even swung shut. “Is an hour enough time?” he asked in a low voice.

Joseph nodded slowly, his eyes watching the priest carefully. “Should be. Soon as we find Kendril and Maklavir we can be off.”

“Good.” Galla scratched the back of his neck with a rapid gesture. “And remember, don’t tell anyone about this. Just the five of us.” He glanced back one more time at the empty steps behind him, then pushed past Joseph through the snow.

The scout watched him with narrowed eyes until he disappeared.

Kara came up next to him, scratching the donkey on the ear. “He lies pretty well for a priest.”

“Yes he does,” said Joseph uncertainly. He shook his head and turned back to the pack he was adjusting.

Kara rubbed her hands slowly together against the cold. “You having second thoughts?”

“No. Kendril’s paranoia is rubbing off on me, that’s all.” He looked up again in the direction the priest had disappeared in. “I’m still not sure why this trip is such a big secret.”

Kara shrugged, then crossed in front of the donkey and tightened the straps on the other side. “He
is
a Baderan, after all. Maklavir said they weren’t well liked around here. Did you notice how he tries to hide his accent?”

Joseph nodded, but his eyes remained unconvinced.

“We’ll keep our eyes open,” Kara said softly. “Five hundred coins is a lot to throw away, Joseph.”

He sighed. “I know.”

A light snow began to fall as the group slowly trudged out of Stefgarten, following the worn track to the west. Joseph led the way, his horse plowing confidently through the snow and slush as he carefully watched the dark forest that loomed ever closer. Galla came behind, swaying atop a tired-looking donkey with what looked to be no little discomfort for both man and beast. The donkeys carrying the supplies came next, their heads down low out of the steadily falling snowflakes. Behind them Kara rode on her pony, shivering occasionally against the cold. Maklavir rode next to her on his white charger, humming to himself.

Behind them all came Kendril, leading his mule Simon by the bridle. A scowl seemed perpetually etched on his face.

They traveled for several hours in silence, save for the sloshing of hooves in the snow and Maklavir’s incessant humming. Around them was a deadened world of white, and the sky above was nothing more than a swirling mass of gray clouds. Ahead was the wide forest, the trees capped with snow, and beyond them were the Snowy Mountains, impossible to see through the clouds. They met no one along the road, and it somehow seemed strangely appropriate. Theirs was a world of solitude, and unnatural stillness.

The cold black of evening was just beginning to fall when Joseph found a spot for them to camp, just off the road. An old farmhouse, its owner long since dead or gone, was barely standing under the weight of its rotting boards, but it was still the best shelter from the cold wind and drifting snow to be seen in any direction.

 Joseph gave a shrug of apology as they unloaded their blankets and supplies by the broken-down door. “Sorry. Best I could do.”

“Half the roof’s missing,” said Maklavir as he peered in through the doorway. “Are you sure this thing is entirely stable?”

“Why don’t you shake the wall and find out?” came Kendril’s tart reply.

Galla gave the shack a disagreeable look, but said nothing. He breathed on his hands, rubbing them quickly together. “It will do,” he said at last.

The snow dropped down to a few scattered flakes about two hours after sundown. Joseph sat on a tumbled down fencepost by himself in the dark, wrapped in a blanket against the cold. Behind him from the farmhouse came the flickering light from the campfire, along with the sound of Maklavir telling yet another one of his stories in a dramatic tone. Joseph smiled as the diplomat neared the punch line. He whisked his knife expertly over the small piece of wood in his hands as he listened. He stooped down to blow some of the shavings off, then returned to his quiet whittling.

“Kind of cold out here, isn’t it?”

Joseph glanced back over his shoulder to see Kendril behind him. “Not too bad,” he replied. “I’ve seen a lot colder.”

The Ghostwalker sighed. He brushed some snow off another fencepost. “Any reason you’re out here all by yourself?”

Joseph cut away another slice of wood. “Not really. You?”

Kendril sat down with a groan. “I couldn’t take anymore of Maklavir’s prattling.”

The scout hid his smile from his friend. “I think he’s told that story before.”

“Try about nine times.” Kendril glanced over at Joseph’s hands. “What are you doing?”

Joseph straightened up. He brushed a snowflake from his face. “Just a little whittling.”

Kendril pulled up his hood as a cold breeze stirred up. “Whittling, huh? Any reason you’re doing it out here in the dark instead of over by the fire?”

The scout hesitated. He put down his knife and pulled at the handkerchief tied around his neck. “It’s kind of a—” He paused, uncertain how to continue. “It’s actually, for…Kara.”

Kendril gave him a probing look. “Kara?”

Joseph flicked a piece of wood off the blanket. “I thought she might like it.”

Kendril glanced back at the farmhouse behind them, then shrugged. “I guess flowers are more traditional, but then Kara doesn’t seem like a very traditional girl. So what is it?”

Joseph hesitated another moment, then tossed it to Kendril. “It’ll be a bird when it’s done. You can see the wings there.”

The Ghostwalker nodded, examining the piece carefully. “Looks good.”

“Thanks.” Joseph took the figurine back. He looked up at his friend. “You think she’ll like it?”

Kendril tossed back his shoulders. “Do I know anything about women?”

Joseph hung his head, shivering from the cold.

Kendril glanced away. “You’re putting a lot of time and thought into making it,” he said after a moment. “My guess is that she’ll like it.”

Joseph looked back at his friend, and gave a slow nod. “I hope so.”

“So what’s the plan for tomorrow?” said the Ghostwalker after a moment’s silence.

Joseph rubbed his beard, and glanced through the darkness down the road in front of them. “We should hit the forest by mid-morning. That will be the most dangerous part for bandits or highwaymen, though I doubt there are many out in this weather.”

“Only fools like us,” added Kendril sourly.

“After that it’s all uphill,” said Joseph, sticking his knife back into the sheath in the top of his boot. “Galla said it’s only about two or three days’ travel from Stefgarten.”

Kendril cupped his gloved hands over his face, breathing into them. “Let’s hope it’s not much more than that.” He sat back, rubbing the side of his nose. “I’ll go ahead and take first watch tonight.”

Joseph stood, brushing the snow off his pants. “I doubt there’ll be much out here to worry about.”

Kendril’s eyes drifted back towards the farmhouse behind them as Galla’s laugh carried out on the night air. His right hand clenched on top of the hilt of one of his swords.

“I think a watch would be good, all the same,” he said darkly.

The sun was barely over the horizon when Kendril emerged from the doorway of the farmhouse, squinting in the early morning light. He crunched softly through the snow around the corner of the decrepit building, and gave a half smile as he stopped. “Cold night?”

Simon gave him a hateful glance.

Kendril glanced over at Maklavir’s horse, standing where he was tied to a post a few feet away. “Veritas isn’t complaining.”

The mule snorted, and shook his head for good measure.

Kendril shrugged. “Don’t look at me. No one else wanted a mule in the farmhouse. Can’t figure why.”

The beast lowered his head in reluctant understanding. The blanket that covered him drooped slightly.

Kendril brushed some snow and ice off the animal’s side. “Joseph says it should get a bit warmer today. Don’t ask me how he knows.”

Simon gave a soft bray.

“I told you not to ask me,” said Kendril. “You want some breakfast?”