The Gambler's Fortune (Einarinn 3) (64 page)

I fixed my gaze on the Sheltya, determined not to look at the mine entrances and began to recite the charm I’d learned against the Elietimm under my breath. “Tror mir’al, es nar’an, tror mir’al, es nar’an.”

“You need not fear I will search your mind without cause!” The Sheltya sounded positively insulted.

“It’s happened to me before,” I retorted before considering the wisdom of my words. “The Elietimm don’t waste any time.”

“Alyatimm—” The Sheltya’s contempt was cut short by a word from one of the others who came down the slope, putting back his hood. His head was shaking slightly and I recognized the old man we’d met at the Hachalfess.

“You’re Cullam, aren’t you?” I wasn’t sure how knowing his name might help, but I didn’t see how it could hurt.

The old man nodded. “There are no persons inside either of those workings,” he told the first Sheltya, deference in his tone.

“And that one is blocked.” The third Sheltya to arrive was the one from the fess, the younger man. He gave me a hard stare. “Where is Aritane? I cannot find her mind!”

I silently repeated the charm over and over to myself, telling myself to believe in it.

“What happened in the fess?” demanded the younger one. “Is Aritane dead as well?”

“Bryn!” Old Cullam rebuked him sharply.

I steeled myself as the Sheltya in charge pushed back his hood. I saw a bald man in his middle years, with a cleft in his chin and fierce brows jutting in a frown. For a heart-stopping moment, I thought his eyes had slid into the blackness of Elietimm possession but then realized he had only blinked. His eyelids were painted black and, while relief weakened my knees, I wondered uneasily what that might signify.

“I’d have every justification in searching your mind for the answers I seek,” he said silkily.

I gritted my teeth, trying to summon up whatever bloody-mindedness it was ’Gren had so unexpectedly turned to his advantage in defying Artifice.

“But that would be to forswear my calling and make me no better than the Alyatimm,” he continued. “It was to save our people from their abuses that they were driven into the Ice in the first place!”

This meant nothing to me, but I nodded willingly. As long as he was talking, he couldn’t be messing around inside my head. Time to try to win some goodwill. “I came here to warn the people of the mountains about these Elietimm,” I said hopefully. “We have seen their evil enchantments and—”

“You came here for your own purposes.” The Sheltya cut me off disdainfully. “That much I can read without effort. Do not pretend to nobility of purpose.”

I felt insulted; turning a profitable rune for myself doesn’t preclude doing someone else a good turn. “We came here to warn you,” I repeated stubbornly, “and to look for guidance as to how we might recover true magic in the lowlands,” I added, sudden inspiration suggesting a way to change the subject. “We were looking to cooperate, to learn from you, to join forces against a common enemy.”

“But you brought a mage to do it,” the old man Cullam said regretfully. “There can be no meeting between those who govern the four realms of the mind and those who twist the four realms of substance to their command.”

I filed that obscure pronouncement away for later examination and decided Sorgrad and ’Gren would have to look after themselves. All I wanted to do now was leave, so I curtsied to Black Eyes with all the grace I could muster in the tattered remnants of my skirts. “If you’ll excuse me, I would like to get away from the battle.”

“You will depart when I give you leave,” the Sheltya stated calmly.

The one called Bryn smirked and I made the mistake of glancing at him. “What did you do to Eresken?” he demanded. “You were outside the room where he lay dead; don’t think I don’t remember you. Is that how your wizardry is used to murder?”

“The Elietimm enchanter? The one who’d got into your mountains and your counsels and roused half an army to attack the lowlands? He was called Eresken?” I kept my eyes on Black Eyes. “No wizardry was used to kill him, you have my word on it.”

“Where is Aritane?” Bryn’s voice was thick with a turmoil of anger and fear.

“Don’t you know?” Surprise faked for the squirrel game had never been so sincere. “Weren’t you one of those helping, what was his name, Eresken?”

Black Eyes pinned me with his stare once more. “Who has done what among Anyatimm is no concern of yours. It is no concern of the charlatan Planir and his covey of greedy conjurors. We will determine the truth and punish the guilty. None have authority over Anyatimm but Sheltya.”

“No one seeks to challenge your authority. It’s the menace of the Elietimm that we are concerned with. Look at the trouble just one of them has caused.” I spared a desperate prayer to Saedrin that there had only been one of the bastards. “The Elietimm are a threat to everyone, Hadrumal, Tormalin and the lands to Solura and beyond. We should all be working together to defeat them. Since you alone seem to have retained true magic, you could do so much to help.” And if I could deliver that help, I could name my own price, an optimistic voice commented in some hidden corner of my mind.

Black Eyes looked at me with a contempt that sparked a rebellious flame of defiance to scorch my paper-thin pretense of humility. This enchanter had scant right to sneer at me when he couldn’t even keep his own people in check, arrogant as any wizard.

Cullam muttered something under his breath and frowned for a moment. “The lowlanders have reached the walls of the fess,” he said sadly.

Serves the Teyvakin right, I thought uncharitably.

Black Eyes folded his arms, eyes hard in the starlight. “We will remove the lowlanders from our lands. We will find those who conspired with Alyatimm and punish them as we see fit. Should Alyatimm attempt to suborn our people again, they will find us ready and waiting to defend ourselves.”

From the certainty in his voice, I wouldn’t be taking any bets against him.

“Tell Planir that we do not want his magic in the uplands, we do not need it nor will we tolerate it. We do not want Tormalin weapons or troops or any other lowland incursion under the pretense of sending us aid. We look to our own as we have always done.”

I dropped another quick curtsey. “Very good. I’ll take your message at once. The sooner Planir knows, the better after all.” As I spoke, I glanced around to see if I could spot any hint of the ford. Looking to the front again, I jumped like a startled rabbit. The Sheltya had vanished, all three of them, gone like smoke as gray as their robes.

“Drianon save me from magic in all its forms,” I muttered crossly. Since no one from the bridge was showing any interest in this direction, I climbed up to the mine entrance. The opening was indeed choked with stones and rubble, so either the roof had come in on them or Usara had managed some cleverness. I prodded at a rock with a dubious finger but it was solid, cold and very real beneath my touch. No illusion this. I raised my pry-bar but lowered it again. There was no way I was going to clear this on my own, not without getting a double handful of curious soldiery coming to see what was going on. I couldn’t see them offering to help, even if I did tell them there was an unconscious maiden wearing nothing but her shift on the far side.

Heaving a sigh, I laid the jemmy across my shoulder and turned for the river. All I could do was trust Usara was getting Sorgrad and ’Gren out of their predicament. If he wasn’t, I’d use the pry-bar to persuade him. I knelt to cup a mouthful of water from the river. Now I wasn’t so worried about being killed, crushed or captured by the Sheltya; other cares were asserting themselves. I was cold, tired, hungry and had enough scrapes and bruises to keep an apothecary amused for days. I scratched my head again; with my current run of luck, I’d picked up lice.

I finally found the nubby remnants of a post marking the ford. With the river so low, it was an easy enough crossing, but water still left my skirts clinging wetly around my legs and seeped into my boots. I was breaking my nails on my sodden laces when the world whirled madly around me in a flurry of azure and diamond sparks.

“It’s all right, it’s all right.” Sorgrad’s voice saying that was probably the only one I’d have believed. Screwing my eyes tight shut against the dizzying sensations and praying I wouldn’t be sick, I gritted my teeth until the sensations of being caught in a whirlwind subsided.

“Here you are, all safe with the rest of us,” said Usara cheerfully.

I wrapped my arms around myself and counted to five before opening mistrustful eyes. What I saw was the gloomy hollow where we’d left the wizard and Bera’s men. As far as I was concerned, we were still a long way from safe, but Sorgrad and ’Gren were there. “So you got them out first.”

“As you see,” smiled Usara with relief.

I tugged at the wet cloth hampering my legs. “You couldn’t have picked me up before I went wading through the river? Where’s my bag? I want some dry breeches!”

“We wanted to be sure the Sheltya had left you,” said Usara. “I was scrying the whole time. I’d have risked it if anyone had come near you,” he assured me, and now that his smile was gone I could see the lines of effort carved deep on either side of his mouth.

“She’s waking up,” said ’Gren suddenly. I saw Aritane feebly wave a hand in the gray light I was startled to realize was the first faint promise of dawn.

“The Sheltya have been looking for her.” Realization sounded hollow in my voice. “If she gets her wits together, they’ll find her.”

“What do we do now?” asked one of the Forest archers, gripping an arrow, knuckles white.

The thought of that black-eyed bastard stepping out of the shadows made me shiver even more than the cold. “We see which way she’s going to jump and if need be we kill her.”

I knelt beside Aritane and rapidly uncovered her ears. “Don’t even think about any enchantments. Try any kind of escape or magic and we’ll kill you, do you understand?” This wasn’t faking sincerity; I meant every word and I gripped her throat to prove it.

Sorgrad laid the naked blade of a dagger across her palm, pressing the edge into the soft angle of finger and thumb. “As Sheltya who forsook her vows, your life is forfeit.”

“Nod if you can hear me,” I commanded. After a moment, the blind head tilted slowly forward.

“Good.” I thought fast. The thassin would be making her very suggestible, so now was the time to show her any alternatives but mine were worthless. “I have spoken to Bryn and Cullam,” I told her. “They introduced me to another Sheltya, one with black-painted eyelids.” Aritane stiffened in involuntary panic, fingers nearly cutting themselves on Sorgrad’s knife.

“So the Elders know exactly what you have done,” said Sorgrad sorrowfully. “Betrayal as well as forswearing, leading those you had vowed to protect into a pointless battle.”

“The Elietimm have no love for the Mountain Men,” I told her. “All they are doing is stirring up trouble to draw off Tormalin forces that might oppose an invasion in Dalasor. They did the same last year, trying to start a war among the Aldabreshin in the far south, setting family against family. The woman who was gulled into helping them there was pressed to death,” I said slowly. “What should we do with you?”

“I can think of a few things,” offered ’Gren with relish. Aritane visibly flinched at the sound of his voice. “A woman who betrays her blood to an ancient enemy deserves a slow and painful death.”

“Won’t the Sheltya give her that?” I asked innocently.

“I imagine so,” said Sorgrad pleasantly. “Given the trouble they’ll be put to untangling this mess, I’d expect examples made of any ringleaders. We’d have done you more mercy by killing you outright.”

“So what shall we do with you? Have you anything to offer us, any talent or knowledge that might make it worth our while to save you?” I was pleased to see a faint tremor in Aritane’s hands.

“We have wizards to defeat the Elietimm,” said Sorgrad, indifferent.

“But we are curious to learn more about Artifice, aetheric magic, true magic I think you call it,” Usara chipped in, finally catching up with the game. “That’s what brought us to the mountains, after all.”

Aritane’s jaw worked helplessly under constricting bandages damp with thassin-stained spit.

“It’s your choice, woman,” I said harshly. “Do we kill you here, do we leave you for the Sheltya to punish, or do we take you somewhere no Sheltya will ever find you?”

“All the powers of Hadrumal will protect you if you share your knowledge and enable us to defeat the Elietimm,” Usara told her earnestly. “They so nearly led your people into a war that would have been the death of them all.”

“It’s starve or eat your seed corn, my girl,” said ’Gren with happy menace.

Aritane held herself tense and stiff beneath the bandages masking her head and the inadequate drape of her shift. A bird whistled a blithe greeting to the sun and the first blush of pink warmed the sky.

This was taking too long. Even with the thassin clogging her wits, it was too much to expect of her. I shivered in the chill breeze and laid a heavy hand on Aritane’s breastbone. “Let’s just kill her. Forsworn once, she can’t be trusted.”

The enchantress twisted in vain beneath the pressure and gripped at the blade of Sorgrad’s dagger. Blood welled up between her long white fingers. He held her grasp tight around the vicious edge. “Would you make a blood vow? Is that what you want?”

The blind head nodded urgently. Sorgrad winked at me and released her hand. He took the dagger and ran the tip lightly across his own palm, just scoring deeply enough to raise a scarlet line beaded with blood. Clasping Aritane’s hand, he nodded at me. “Unwrap her mouth.”

I hesitated but ’Gren knelt to do it, cutting through the linen with his own dagger. “As long as she says the words, she’s bound for life. If she forswears, ’Grad gets to kill her.”

“Sikkar als Misaen, terest Maewelin verath, dolcae en rocar alsoken.”

Aritane echoed Sorgrad’s intense words with difficulty, wits still reeling from the tahn, tongue numbed and lips stained brown as old blood by the thassin.

“Will this hold her? Will she remember it?” I demanded of Sorgrad.

He looked at me, eyes mysterious in the pale light. “It’s a vow to break all vows. If you make it falling down drunk at your coming of age, you still remember it on your deathbed. She has betrayed everything else and all that’s left to her is death at the hands of Sheltya if they find her.”