The Wild Road (13 page)

“Brodhi might be able to find out,” Rhuan suggested. “He reports directly to the warlord, rather than the Guildhall, because he of all the couriers is not Sancorran. The only knowledge the Hecari have of this particular settlement is what Brodhi tells the warlord.”

Naiya's challenge was delicate, with careful inflection. “They found us before.”

Rhuan leaned forward against the table, resting forearms upon the surface. “But Alisanos has moved. The terrain in this area is now completely different. It's true a culling party might find their way here, but they've never grappled with Alisanos.” He glanced at Brodhi. “You can shape the truth with falsehood.”

Brodhi was most annoyed, Ilona saw. He wore his habitual mask, but his eyes gave him away. Such enmity, she reflected, between close kin. They were alone in the world save for one another, Rhuan and Brodhi, but their hearts were completely different. When she had briefly read Rhuan's palm on the night they met, she had seen
maelstrom
. She wondered what Brodhi's hand would tell her and knew she would never see it.

“
I
would tell lies to the warlord,” Bethid said pointedly, and then added in dramatic tones, “but a woman would never be admitted to his presence.”

Ilona smiled to herself. Clever Bethid. And it was wholly effective in prompting Brodhi's response.

The courier shrugged. “Yes, he will listen to me. I told him about Alisanos. He sent four warriors to be certain what I said was true. I will now have to explain that the deepwood took them, not a mismatched assemblage of karavaners and tent-folk.”

“
Organized
assemblage,” Bethid countered.

The idea, the knowledge, the vision unfolded in Ilona's mind so clearly, so abruptly, at first all she could do was blink as her lips parted. Then a twinge of understanding, of anticipation, sent a faint shiver through her body. “Could we use Alisanos,” she began, “to rid us of Hecari?” She glanced at the faces turned her way. “Could they be led to the deepwood and enter it on their own?”

Davyn straightened sharply on his stool and set the tankard down with a thunk. He said, with a note of discovery, “If so, we might stay in Sancorra. Return to our homes, if any remain.” His blue eyes shone and color seeped into his face, easing tension and weariness. “We could all go home. Or build new homes, with no fear of Hecari.” He looked at Rhuan. “What if
we
built a road? A false road that would draw the attention of the Hecari. They could follow it, thinking folk are hiding, only to be swallowed by Alisanos.”

“And who could build it?” Brodhi asked in an acerbic tone. “Who risks being taken by Alisanos while in the midst of building a road, even if it's false? There is no safe way through Alisanos; it's a waste of time to even discuss it. Besides, the Hecari are too many.” He shot a glance at Rhuan. “How do you think they were able to take three provinces so swiftly, so completely? They sweep the plains like an ocean. Many of us drown.”

Ilona arched her brows in surprise. Brodhi had said
us
. She looked at Rhuan, who had caught the word as well. He smiled crookedly and leaned close to whisper, “There may be hope for him yet.”

Ilona whispered back, “Do you truly believe that?”

“Well,” he said, “no. But it's still an improvement.”

Davyn's voice was confident, now that hope had been retrieved. “But we could be rid of
some
of the Hecari. Is it not worthwhile to let Alisanos kill them, no matter the number? One less, two less, twenty less . . . well worth it, I say.”

Brodhi shook his head. “You are a fool. What do you think will happen when warriors begin to regularly disappear? I am to report to the warlord—”

Abruptly the candlelight was dwarfed by a sustained series of blinding flashes outside the tent, followed by an enormous crack of thunder. Everyone in the ale-tent jumped. Ilona slapped a hand over her heart. “Sweet Mother . . . !”

The two bars of Jorda's Summoner rolled together, producing a chime muted by wood planks. Mikal glanced upward, assessing the central tent pole with one squinted eye. Canvas trembled beneath the onslaught of rain. Naiya, closest to the door flaps, moved forward hastily to avoid rain spray that made its way through the gaps. Ilona noticed that the first tendrils of water crept their way inside beneath the hem of the door flaps.

As the thunder died out, Bethid resumed. “As we've already said, Brodhi will report to the warlord and tell him whatever serves us best.”

Had Ilona not been looking directly at Brodhi, she would have missed the faint flicker of red in his eyes. He was most displeased with Bethid. But before he could respond, Darmuth spoke up.

“It's worth doing,” he said lightly. “After all, you're
Shoia
, Brodhi. You can afford to lose a few lives.”

Ilona nearly laughed at the cheerfully sly expression on Darmuth's face. Baiting Brodhi, she discovered, had its own measure of amusement.

“Could you do that?” Naiya asked of Brodhi. “Could you control the warlord's actions by giving him lies?”

“No. He's not a fool. He is clever, arrogant, ruthless, and he knows how to manipulate men.”

“Sounds rather like you,” Rhuan observed dryly. He grinned as Brodhi shot him a dark glance. “Aren't you cleverer than he? He's human, after all; surely you—a
Shoia
—could manipulate him.”

Always the emphasis on Shoia, Ilona noted, as if it had become a private jest among those who knew of the pretense. Which struck her as odd, because apparently
she
was Shoia. And realization reasserted itself:
Blessed Mother, I have seven lives
! No. Six. Rhuan's father, Alario, had already stolen one.

Ilona forcibly pulled her attention back to the matters at hand, which happened to be talking Brodhi into feeding lies to the warlord. She nodded, affecting innocence, “Of course you are cleverer than he, Brodhi. I'm sure of it. And not necessarily because you're Shoia . . .” She let it trail off suggestively. “but because you're, well . . .
you
.”

Brodhi knew very well what she meant. The alteration of a single word: Shoia, in front of the others, in place of
dioscuri
. She saw it in his eyes, in the tensing of his face. “None of you has met the warlord,” he said sharply. “You have no idea of what he is capable.”

“Oh, I think we do.” Davyn threw crumbled bread back onto the platter for emphasis. “He is capable of destroying a province. Three provinces. Many of us decided to leave, to run away, in effect—and I include myself among them—rather than face his warriors. But now he squats in Cardatha. He can't, by himself, keep track of one province, let alone three. He depends and acts on information brought to him by his warriors and, apparently, by Brodhi.
Purposeful
false information might give us an advantage, give us time to prepare.”

“That's exactly what I have proposed,” Bethid said, slicing more cheese. “Couriers come and go freely; we might as well be invisible, because we are
expected
to come and go. Couriers worth our trust, committed men, can also carry word of the warlord's plans so people may be prepared. Information is vital; there would be no Guild without it.” She gestured toward Timmon and Alorn at the same table. Just as she began to place the cheese into her mouth, she said, “We've already discussed it, in fact, the four of us here.”

Lightning again flashed outside the tent, followed almost immediately by thunder that obliterated speech. Ilona winced. Until the thunder faded, no one spoke; then Brodhi said frigidly, “I am not privy to the warlord's plans. Nor are any of you.”

“There are ways to make ourselves so,” Rhuan said lightly, and as Brodhi glared at him, Darmuth's grin stretched wide, displaying the gemstone drilled into one of his teeth.

Ilona was as mystified as anyone else, save for Rhuan, Brodhi, and Darmuth himself, all of whom appeared to be talking of something specific. She opened her mouth to ask
why
Darmuth could do what others could not, but a pointed glance from Rhuan and a slight shake of his head suggested she keep silent. And so she did but resolved that Rhuan had better provide details when they were away from others.

“Can it be done?” Bethid had to raise her voice over the noise of heavy rain. “Whatever it is that you're talking about, I'm assuming it concerns a means of learning the warlord's plans.”

Darmuth's grin renewed itself. “Oh, it can be done.”

“How?” Jorda asked sharply. “And, if so, why has it not been done before?”

“Because no one thought of it before,” Rhuan said wryly, then sobered. “And that I will lay at the foot of fear, because the Hecari have trained us to fear. But circumstances have changed now because of Alisanos; this is no longer the transient, temporary settlement that drew the culling party. And there is change, too, because of the four warriors Brodhi brought here. The warlord knows that Alisanos exists.” He looked steadily at Brodhi, shredding bread. “There was no choice, of course; you had to tell him. But now that he
does
know, we are likely in more danger than before. I think it wouldn't be just a decimation, next time the Hecari come, but a massacre.”

Ilona did not need to read hands to sense the tension between Rhuan and his cousin. Their gazes were locked, precursor to what, she could not know, but she
did
know neither would give ground.

Unless she made them.

She raised her voice over the pounding of rain on sagging canvas overhead. “We all of us know how dangerous is Alisanos. But the warlord doesn't. He sent only four warriors.” She caught Brodhi's eye, breaking the unspoken challenge between him and Rhuan. “If he truly believed what you told him of the deepwood, would he not have sent more?”

“Four Hecari warriors is not a token number,” Brodhi answered. “Four Hecari can account for far more than four of us.”

“But they didn't,” Ilona said. “We killed them when they came.
We
killed them.”

The Sister, Naiya, resettled her wrap. “If we are not to travel because of the monsoon, what about the Hecari? Will they all stay in Cardatha like good little chicks seeking shelter beneath the hen?”

Rhuan smiled. “And that brings us back to the beginning. We need to know the warlord's mind. That can be aided by Darmuth.”

Darmuth shrugged. “First we will have to prepare. And it would perhaps be best if none of you know anything about how we will do it, should Hecari come here and ask. Though their habit is to kill, rather than to ask.”

It did not satisfy Jorda, Ilona knew, looking at his stern, bearded face. Mikal, too, was troubled. Jorda might ask no more questions in front of others, but elsewhere, oh yes. And Rhuan would be his target.

“Well,” Naiya said quietly, “I can offer aid . . . my two Sisters and I are skilled at needlework. If you bring back clothing-weight canvas as well as what else you need, we can fashion weather garb.”

Without glancing at faces, Ilona knew exactly what the men were thinking. She wanted to say something, to remind them of manners, but the Sister did it for her.

Naiya's mouth twisted briefly in acknowledgment. “Well. We must fill the time not spent in bed with
some
thing, mustn't we?”

The farmsteader had the grace to looked ashamed, staring at the tabletop rather than at Naiya, and Ilona wondered what image his mind had painted as the Sister spoke.

Chapter 10

E
VEN TO HERSELF
,
her voice sounded strange. “Gillan . . . Gillan, see to Meggie.”

Oh, Mother.
Meggie
.

Audrun wiped the back of her hand against her mouth, spat out the residual taste of vomit, and from her sprawled position upon the paving stones, from behind a lock of tangled, crusty hair, she looked up into the face of the primary. And it was enough, more than enough, to goad her into motion.

She gathered herself, gathered her aching, battered body, and thrust herself to her feet. She braced them apart so she would not fall. With a great effort she stilled her trembling and stared up into his face, meeting arrogance with a powerful pride. She knew very well what she risked; she also knew she had to do it. For the sake of her children. For Meggie.

Though several sentences filled her mouth, she spoke none of them. Not in anger, nor in fear. She bit them back, swallowed them down, and straightened the body that wished to hunch in pain. She was no primary, with power at her beckoning. She was merely a woman, a human woman, a mother. And in this moment, such was enough, entirely enough.

Beneath the double suns Audrun faced Karadath. She put everything she wished to say into her eyes. She gave him defiance. She confronted. She made him truly
see
her, to know that she was strong enough, no matter the condition of her body, to take any assault, by word or by violence, any assault at all, that he wished to bestow upon her.

The words in her mind said most clearly:
I defy you
.
I deny you
. And he heard them perfectly well, despite the fact she did not speak them.

Karadath smiled. He turned and reached out swiftly, so swiftly, to grab a fistful of Ellica's tangled hair. By it, he yanked her close. She cried out in shock and fear, clutching the sapling even as her head was forcibly tilted. Tears ran down her sun-flushed face.

“This one is of an age,” he said, “to be bred.”

Audrun knew she dared not hesitate lest she give him a victory, or show him weakness. “Which is the better wager,” she asked evenly, “to provide a child? A woman who's carried five to term and beyond, or a girl whose courses have not yet begun?” Startlement passed through Ellica's eyes, but she faced her mother, not Karadath, and he didn't see it. “So, it comes to me,” Audrun said, “after all.”

BECAUSE OF THE
storm, almost no one wished to depart Mikal's tent. Brodhi left, not unexpectedly, and the Sister, pulling her wrap up onto her head before ducking out the door flap. But everyone else stayed put. Mikal served more ale, waving away payment. Rhuan rose, tankard in hand, and strolled idly over to Darmuth's table. He bent down just beside Darmuth's shoulder, taking care to keep his voice low. “I assume Ferize will accompany you?”

Darmuth smiled. “She will enjoy the challenge.”

“Then you can do this? And survive to talk about it?”

Darmuth shrugged. “Too many variables to predict. Emulation will be effective for a short time, but we can't truly
be
Hecari, so we dare not stay long. Remember, Ferize and I, unlike you, can be killed in this world. Permanently.”

Rhuan hooked a stool over with his foot and sat down facing Darmuth. “We need information. We need knowledge of the warlord's plans.”

“Are you trying to talk me into it, or yourself?”

Rhuan planted an elbow on the table and scratched at his hairline. “It was easy to say when in the midst of the discussion. Perhaps it isn't such a good idea after all.”

“Of course it's not a good idea. But it's the only one we have, is it not?” Darmuth ran the palm of his hand over his shaven skull, ridding it of the last sheen of moisture. “It's worth trying. If it fails, we haven't lost anything . . . and be quite certain Ferize and I will contrive whatever it takes to remain alive.”

Rhuan considered that, rubbing his bottom lip in bemusement. “The head of the serpent.”

“Cut it off?” Darmuth threw back a gulp of ale, brushed foam from his lip. “It's a thought . . . if one were to ask Brodhi how the serpent likes to sleep. That is, if he knows. But neither Ferize nor I can kill him. We can't hold the false form
and
kill a man. Our power is limited here in the human world, it can't be doled out to different tasks. And if we let go the illusion, we very likely would be killed immediately. They are fearsome warriors, our Hecari, and I don't doubt that the warlord has men aplenty whose sole task is to guard his body.”

Nodding thoughtfully, Rhuan glanced around. He saw the farmsteader, Davyn, deep in thought, wrinkles across his brow, drawing circles in spilled ale. He blamed himself for saying anything about the road through Alisanos if he were so poor at keeping secrets. But the man had needed
some
thing.

That gave him an idea, and he rose with a brief grasp of Darmuth's shoulder, then took himself and his tankard to the bar where Jorda spoke quietly with Mikal. “Have him go.” Rhuan tilted his head in the farmsteader's direction. “Take him with you to Cardatha.”

Jorda straightened. “Why?”

Rhuan very much desired to say he wanted Davyn out of the way before he let slip anything else. In the meantime, seeming idleness would do better than insistence. “It will fill his time. Distract him. Here, all he can think about is his family. Take him with you, and he can help if the wagons bog down, help gather supplies in Cardatha. We're losing all the couriers to the Guildhall—the trip back will need another pair of hands.”

Jorda frowned. “I thought Darmuth would accompany me.”

Rhuan kept an eye on the farmsteader, answering Jorda absently. “Then have a
third
pair of hands to assist on the way back.”

The karavan-master stared hard into Rhuan's face. Rhuan knew very well when he was being weighed, when someone attempted to sort out what was in his mind. He also knew that at some point he was going to have to be painstakingly honest with Jorda. When he and Darmuth had been no more than hired guides for the karavans, there was no need for Jorda to ask more of them, to know their origins beyond a cursory explanation. But now, with the world upended and Alisanos on the doorstep, Jorda would not let anything slide by.

Rhuan forestalled the emergent question by lifting a staying hand. “I know. And I will discuss this. But first—take the farmsteader with you. I'll tell him you've asked for his help.”

“Then wouldn't it be best if
I
ask for his help?”

“He might say no if you do it.”

Jorda frowned. “
No
to me, but
yes
to you?”

Rhuan smiled crookedly. “Yes.”

Jorda raised his tankard and took down the last swallow. When he thumped it on the bartop again he fixed Rhuan with a steady gaze. “My wagon,” he said. “Soon. A matter of moments. You and no one else. Not even Darmuth.”

That surprised Rhuan. “Not even Darmuth?”

“Does he need to know your secrets, too?”

“Darmuth knows most of them. But we can discuss that, too, at your wagon.”

“Soon,” Jorda repeated, as much a command as a suggestion.

Rhuan nodded. “I'll speak to the farmsteader and come over immediately after.”

“No lies,” Jorda declared. “No more disguising things with dimples, a shrug, a lazy observation.”

Jorda knew him better than Rhuan had believed. “You'll have the truth of me.”

Jorda stared hard at him for a long moment, then turned to Mikal. “I'll leave the Summoner here . . . once the rain has died, you may as well ring it out by the bonfire. That will bring everyone out, and we can begin gathering volunteers for the tasks.”

Rhuan glanced back at the farmsteader as Jorda walked by on his way out of the tent. Davyn had pushed his stool away from the table, midway to rising. Rhuan said sharply, “Wait,” and after two long strides sat down across from him. He knew very well that the motion coupled with the word would be effective.

And indeed, Davyn sat back down after a moment, blushing red in embarrassment. “I know. I—know,” he said. “I shouldn't have said anything about the road. I'll govern my tongue more closely after this.”

Rhuan fixed Davyn with a stare as hard as Jorda's. “Yes, I think you'd better. Fortunately the idea is so preposterous that no one will think about what you said, this time. Next time, they might.” He pulled his meat knife and speared a chunk of cheese. In front of Davyn's face, he waved the knife and cheese. “Unwise,” he said. “Most unwise.” Before tucking the cheese into his mouth, he said, “Why not go with Jorda? He could use your hands and strong back on the return journey. The couriers will remain in Cardatha, so he will be short of help.”

“No.” Davyn shook his head. “I won't go so far from the deepwood. Who's to know that my family won't somehow find their way back? I need to be here, in case that should happen.”

Inwardly Rhuan sighed, but he kept his tone casual even as he meticulously enunciated. “As I have said, until the road is built—and it will be built—they can't come to you. Nor can you go to them.” He sliced off another hunk of cheese, chewed neatly, and swallowed. He washed all down with a measure of ale, then said with great clarity, albeit couched in offhandedness, “Jorda could use you in my place. I have to stay and begin mapping the border.”

“Then I'll stay here and help you with that.”

Rhuan shook his head. “I'll risk no human to the deepwood's whimsy. You don't have land-sense; Alisanos might merely shiver, yet take you into it. And no, you wouldn't find your family that way. It's most likely you'd simply be eaten.”

“
Eat
en?”

“Very likely.” Rhuan tore a hunk of bread off the loaf. “Alisanos teems with devils and demons, all kinds of beasts, even humans who have been perverted by the wild magic. No one there will guard your life.” As he had guarded Audrun's. Once done with bread and cheese, Rhuan slid his knife back into its scabbard. “In Cardatha, you won't be eaten.”

Davyn scowled. “You're trying to get rid of me.”

That truth Rhuan felt safe in telling. “Yes. I am.”

Lightning shot across the heavens. On its heels came a massive explosion of thunder. Davyn winced and covered his ears. When he uncovered them, he asked, “Does it rain like this in Cardatha?”

“No. Cardatha's rain is gentle.” Rhuan grinned. “No monsoon where you lived before?”

“Not like this.” When lightning crackled so closely outside the tent that its odor could be smelled, Davyn once again covered his ears. Sure enough, thunder rumbled behind the flash. “All right. All right.” He pushed away from the table. “I'll go with the karavan-master.”

“Jorda will see to it you'll have meals and coin rings for your trouble.”

Davyn nodded, but his mind was clearly on something else. Rhuan waited until the farmsteader exited the tent, then returned to his own table and slid onto his seat beside Ilona.

She studied his face. “You have the look of a man pleased by his actions.”

“I am.”

“What
were
they, exactly, these actions?”

Over the rim of his lifted tankard, Rhuan said, “I told the farmsteader he should accompany Jorda, and that the rains are gentler in Cardatha.”

“You didn't!”

“I did.”

“He'll know you for a liar when he gets there.”

Rhuan smiled at her. “But in the meantime he won't be
here
.”

“And that matters?”

“It will fill his mind with something other than worry about his family.”

“For a while, perhaps, but—”

“
But
, it's enough. For now. And Jorda could truly use his help. Darmuth has a task in Cardatha emminently more important than buying supplies and loading a wagon.”