The Windsingers (22 page)

He smiled down at her. Ki felt her arm muscles tighten as they drew him closer to her. He pillowed his head upon her breast.

'I shall find a way to kill you!' Ki promised heartily.

'Was ever a conquest so sweetly spiced with resistance?' Dresh wondered laughingly.

Dresh's body pressed hers down. Her hands played over his back, slipped under cloth to feel warm flesh. Ki shuddered internally. Her mind raced and veered, seeking escape, seeking any kind of weapon. Desperation blazed up in her as she flung words at him.

'Did you play this game with Rebeke, Dresh? Is this what drove her to the Windsingers? You used her as a toy, made her less than a beast! Shamed her, broke her! It is no wonder she fled your arms! The wonder is that she sent her wind, wrapped us in her protection until we reached Karn Hall. A breeze scented like wind-flowers, like anemones!'

Ki landed on the cushions on the opposite side of the table like a flung doll, repelled from Dresh's body as easily as he had attracted her. Anger and pain burned in his face. She knew she had gone too far.

'She only did it to shame me! To humiliate me with her mercy! Because she knew...' His mouth worked with unsayable words, and then his lips went white.

'Are you certain of that, Dresh?' Ki gambled words as she picked herself up. 'What do you suppose the Windsingers are doing to her now, while you indulge yourself? Tell me of it, Dresh. Why not further entertain yourself by recounting what her torments are while you pass the time with me?'

Dresh was silent, choking. His eyes were a thousand years older, but they were the eyes of a stricken child. The a chill mask of amusement took sudden control of his face. He rose, tugging his jerkin straight, and gave a shrug and a sarcastic little sigh.

'You are a disappointment. I had hoped you would yield to my persuasions gracefully. I had also hoped you would bathe first. We might have passed a diverting hour or so. You miss the chance to learn many things. Ah, well. There are prettier puppets than you, Romni teamster.'

The door was ajar. He had forgotten it. 'Undoubtedly,' Ki spoke recklessly. 'But puppets will never content you, Dresh.' She began backing toward the door as she spoke.

'My last little weakness,' he admitted disdainfully. She hated the way he smiled at her retreat. 'When I weed it out of myself, then shall I come to the fullness of my power. This foolish regard I have for the Human spirit, this sentimental sympathy...'

'Is your last shred of Humanity, Dresh. As it is Rebeke's. Cling to it, Dresh. I salute your weakness!'

She felt the jamb of the door behind her. With a sudden tug and spring, she was through it and dashing down the entryway. She pulled and jerked wildly at the slowly opening door of Karn Hall. Morning light blinded her as she squeezed out into the courtyard and dashed across the dust-strewn paving stones.

A door crashed behind her. She whirled, lost her footing, and sat down flat in the dust. She froze, her heart shaking her. Then her tightened shoulders loosened and dropped in puzzlement.

There was no pursuit. The tall door had been slammed shut behind her.

Her wagon was standing ready in the yard, the greys already hitched to it. They looked tired, but not broken. Ki frowned. Dresh had been ready for her to leave, had prepared her wagon for her, expecting it. She rose and dusted herself off, shaking her head at his final charade. There was no sense in trying to understand wizards. She spat the taste of him from her mouth. She wasted no time in crossing to her home and mounting the tall wheel to her seat.

She picked up the reins. Sigurd twisted about to send her a reproving look. The team was weary, had been drained yesterday. They had rested no longer than she, and she knew how she still ached. It was not right to ask this of them. She was no better than Dresh. But there was Vandien. There were no right answers to her dilemma, but the one most wrong was to let him face his task alone. She stirred her team to action, glad to put Karn Hall behind her. 'I'll send you the damn coin I owe you for late delivery,' she promised the stone walls in a venomous whisper. 'Yes, and with a snake in the sack for an extra payment!'

Two days to False Harbor, was it? They would be there by this night... or by tomorrow's dawn. If she was not there to help him, at least let him see that her heart had been with him. Vandien. Shaking her head, she stepped the team up, while keeping a watch on the sky.

* * *

Dresh drew back from the tower window, smiling his narrow smile. 'She'll go now, like an arrow shot to the mark.'

Bird-eyes chuckled.

He had slept, and risen to eat. Helti himself had served him. Though he had peered about for a glimpse of Janie, he had not seen her. The common room had been a lively place, with competing groups singing snatches of different songs. Sticky little cakes poked full of slivered spiced fruit were presented to him. Folk stopped by his table to offer him chunks of a poisonously sour fish pickle. Vandien watched in awe as they wolfed mouthfuls of this dubious treat, following it with hunks of white cheese cut into bells and moons and stars. They had laughed uproariously at his inability to choke down the fish, and tried to soothe his feelings with mugs of potent drink. He had been affable. It was festival, and the fisherfolk were determined that all should enjoy it. When Vandien took a sign from Srolan and rose from his table, few asked him where he was going. And when he told them, none of them followed. 'Too early,' they said. Festival was still strong and noisy in the common room of the tavern. When their bellies were full and their heads were reeling, then they would come to watch the teamster flounder about in the water. They pressed him to stay and drink with them. He would miss the best parts of festival. Didn't he want to hear Collie's harp again? Before long, there would be dancing, and contests of strength. Had he seen the jugglers yet? Wouldn't he stay? No? Then they wished him good luck, and would come to watch him in a bit. Vandien left.

He shook the reins and his team uncoiled. He realized then that he had been hoping they would refuse to budge. He would have preferred to struggle with them in the late afternoon sun here in the alley, but they were limbering up their sinuous bodies, arching their short ugly necks, their tails coiling and recoiling like springs. They made chopping sounds with their snouty muzzles. Without warning, they scuttled down the street with Vandien in their wake.

He scarcely had time to respond to the greetings of folk in the street. 'Early to the task, make a fine catch!' shouted someone. 'Let's follow!' suggested a woman, but the man at her side pointed to the tavern and said something Vandien did not hear. He found a hard smile on his face and a perverse merriment took over his soul. To the task, then. Be drowned if you must, but do it with style. He gave one glance to the trail that wound down the cliff face. He longed for the sight of a tall panelled wagon on yellow spoked wheels, but he knew better than to hope for it. It wasn't there. He was alone, and the moon alone knew where Ki was. He might be running her head into the noose as well as his own. He doubted it. It sounded to him as if she had already drawn her own battle lines with the Windsingers. Well, this was his chance to settle a point he and Ki had long argued about. Did he make a greater fool of himself when he was alone, or when in her company?

His team scuttled from side to side in the roadway, flanked by the wooden sidewalks that fronted much of the road, and urged on by the sounds of Vandien's steps behind them. On one shoulder he had looped the coil of line from Srolan. The prod was tucked securely into his belt. The air off the sea was cool, but not too frisky. A fine day for a festival. Helti had pointed out to him the bluff where the festival Windsinger traditionally stood. Vandien could see no sign of blue robes. Perhaps he and Srolan had outmaneuvered her. She would not expect him to be hastening early to his encounter, not after flattening him this morning.

The wooden sidewalks and tidy cottages gave way to gear huts cobbled together from whatever the sea tossed up. The rocks in the road became larger, the puddles deeper, as the way made the transition from road to footpath. The path itself then spread out and dispersed over the pebbly shores. Vandien had a clear view of the bay now. The only structures now were boathouses and boatways, and then the docks standing stork-legged and tall above the retreating tide. The pilings were black, crusted with barnacles and festooned with sea plants.

Vandien's team whiffled suddenly as they went, and pulled him on eagerly. He put himself between them and the sea and paced them as they scuttled on, past a pier that trailed out into the water like the rocky spine of some long-dead beast. They seemed to become more anxious with every step. Their splayed feet slapped the pebbly beach, the rounded stones damp and bare from the sea's retreat. Vandien stepped on a stray rag of seaweed, he slipped, and was jerked to his feet again by the pull of the leather rein in his fist. The skeel were making for the sea. Over their swaying heads, Vandien could see the emerging walls and truncated chimneys of the old village. Beyond them he could sight a darker huddle beneath the waves. The Windsingers' temple was still covered.

Sixteen splayed feet flapped and splashed into the water. As soon as it felt the damp, the left rear skeel sank to its belly and tried to lie motionless. The team seesawed around it, the others eager to go but unable to pry their teammate loose. Vandien could see it attempting to work its flat feet in deeper among the pebbles and sand. The other three squealed and struggled to go on. Just as Vandien bent to give its tail a tweak, one of its brethren gave it a stinging slash with its whiplike tail. A bubbly welt rose instantly on the mottled grey hide, and the recalcitrant skeel squeaked and surged to its feet. The team plowed into the retreating waves. Vandien followed.

The water was cold but not numbing as it rose over his low fisherman's boots. The loose trousers flapped around his calves and then grew heavy with water, but the wool held its warmth. Vandien soon found himself grateful for that. The skeel were more eager to advance than the tide to retreat. Vandien held them in with a firm hand, but he soon found the waves licking about his hips. He braced his feet and prodded his team to a temporary halt. They stopped, but there was no lessening of the tension on the rein. As soon as he yielded, they would surge on.

Vandien stood wondering about the team's usefulness, and catching his breath. They were not swimming. They had scuttled out belly deep and, with no hesitation, pressed on, ignoring the waters that rose to cover their squat bodies and then their ugly heads. Vandien looked for rising bubbles, but either there were none or the action of the waves obscured them. His team squatted completely underwater, straining at the leash. Well, at least they seemed willing to pull.

Slowly the sunken village ebbed into view around them. Walls rose from the falling waters. There was not much left. Sturdy stone walls had worn down until they stood no higher than Vandien's knees. The small artifacts of a fishing village were long gone, either salvaged by the survivors or buried and eaten by the ocean. Rooms had been silted in with fine sand. Barnacles crusted chimneys. Crabs scuttled behind the angle of a crumbled doorway. Little had survived except for walls and hearths. Anything wooden had long since been nibbled away by the sea. Metal items such as chimney spits had been eroded to skeletal remains. Vandien wondered how long it would be before even the walls were gone, how long until not one stone remained atop another. When that time came, would False Harbor still hold Temple Ebb, and would it still remember why?

He loosened his hold on the team and they promptly surged forward. It was hard to guide them now, for all he saw was the reins following them like a diviner's rod. The sun was sliding down the sky. Its light glanced off the waters, all but blinding Vandien. The breeze that rose was only the ordinary evening breeze off the sea. He stumbled over stones of walls long fallen as his team dragged him into deeper waters; the reins caught on the corner of a sunken building and the pull of the team whipped Vandien around it. He barked his shins on hidden obstacles, stumbled and caught himself. The water was nearly to his chest now. He had to fight both the pull of his team and his own buoyancy. If ever they dragged him completely off his feet, there would be little he could do about it.

He squinted his eyes against an orange and rose sunset. The light made sea and sky one before him. As the skeel dragged him inexorably deeper, the cold of the water began to close tight around his body. The heavy wool shielded him, hugging his body warmth to him, but the weight of it was becoming frightening. Although it helped him to keep his feet as the skeel pulled on, it would make it harder to rise if he were dragged under. 'So I won't be.' He smiled inanely at the sound of his own voice. The shushing waves and the tragic cries of the sea birds were a special kind of silence, not to be broken by the voice of a mere Human.

Ahead of him, a wave suddenly tipped white in the middle of its green-capped family. Again, and again, there was that flash of white amidst creamy green. Then a black tooth began to rise slowly from the water. The uppermost of the surviving walls of the temple were beginning to emerge, tracing the outlines of their old foundations. The temple was as jagged as a decayed molar of black bone. The sea water trapped inside it swirled angrily, seeking escape. Vandien heard the rattle of stone against stone. The pull of the tide was thwarted by the stubborn walls. The frustrated water seethed within the temple.

The ocean had not wrought its will upon the temple. It had been built in old times and by old ways. What powers had lifted and arranged those huge blocks of black stone? No mortar showed, but there were fine seams showing blacker between the stones. No seaweed dared to cling to them; even the barnacles were only scattered white dots over the surface. The few crustaceans that clung to it were small ones. There were no generations of barnacles clinging to the backs of their parents like on the walls of the submerged village. The black stones stood immune to their encroachment.

The closer Vandien got to the temple, the more monstrous it loomed. Only a sunken building, he reminded himself as its ominous shadow fell upon him, shielding his eyes from the glaring sunset. It stood open to the sky, its vaulted ceiling long gone. If ever it had boasted a lofty bell tower, that, too, had fallen. Vandien wondered briefly about the legends of the bell ringing. How likely was a bell in a cellar? Perhaps there had been a bell tower that had stood after the temple sank. Perhaps it had rung beneath the water, dampening the spirits of the villagers long after the fall of the temple. Such a sound would not have been forgotten in a generation, or even three. It did not matter that it no longer rang; if it had rung but once before it fell, it would have been enough to spark a legend.

The skeel stopped. The black stone wall blocked them. They could not surge over this wall, and drag Vandien after them. He stood chest deep in cold water, looking up. The black stones rose higher than he could reach. His team pulled left, and then right, seeking a route around this obstacle. With a sinking heart, Vandien realized that he did not know where the entrance was. He had assumed the walls had been worn and crumbled away like the village huts. How was he to get into the place to search it? If the entrance wasn't on this side, it was on the other, still underwater. The temple was huge. Even one circuit of it would take up precious time. The light was ebbing as fast as the water. Vandien's courage sank with it.

A stab of light and a slosh of white turned his head. The light and the slosh returned for an instant. Sound poured forth from the temple with the ebbing water. The descending water bared the arched portal of the temple. Now a handsbreadth of light showed above the water. The waves swirled in and out of the draining temple, creating a current, and eddies. Waves rushed in and then gushed out almost immediately. Vandien bided his time, staring up at the chiseled lintel. A row of Windsingers was depicted. Their outstretched arms were linked, their robes fluttered in a petrous breeze. Their lips were wide with song. A common enough scene to be carved in such a place, but Vandien found it unsettling. A subtle wrongness teased his eyes. He saw the lintel only as it was illuminated by the same flashes of sunset that blinded him. But were not the mouths stretched too wide in song, the eyes inhumanly puckered? Humans were not the only species to become Windsingers, he reminded himself. Perhaps these changelings were some other race. Their arms were sinuously long from shoulder to elbow, but stout and stumpy from elbow to wrist. The robes sheltered his eyes from the rest of their bodies. Vandien continued to stare at them. 'Probably just a poor sculptor,' he remarked reassuringly to his sunken team.

The light of the sunset that broke through the portal was dimmer now. Soon the sun would sink completely, and he would have to work by touch. He did not want to waste what little light he would have. He could pass safely through the door now, if there were no steps down into the temple.

His groping feet edged behind his team. They scuttled away from him, following the wall of the temple. As soon as they reached the portal, they surged through it. Vandien saw no sign of his beasts except for a skirling in the waters. The stout rein followed them. The water became deeper, rising shoulder high. Before he could check them, the team dragged him on. Salt water licked his stubbled chin as the Windsingers danced over his head. He stumbled, but could not catch himself though his free hand flailed the water. The strap twined around his wrist dragged him ruthlessly on. Vandien went down and under. His sodden clothes sank him as his team towed him on.

The water cushioned his impact as his chest met the stone steps that rose just inside the temple's entrance. Vandien scrabbled to his feet spitting water. A toss of his head flung wet curls from his eyes. Water from his hair streamed over his face. He gasped in air gratefully. His team had stopped. He stood within the temple of the Windsingers.