Authors: Carol Berg
Transformation (30 page)
“Well, get them on. I didn’t go to all this trouble to have you gaping at me like these hod-carriers. Unless you’ve developed a steel ass and leather feet, you’ll be glad of them and not care that I was ungentlemanlike while acquiring them. We’ve no time to visit my tailor.”
Refusing to wear the clothes wasn’t going to put them back on the man they belonged to. And, in truth, the closing chase did nothing to make me think generously. The Prince would be coddled and escorted back to his demon guardians. I was the one who would lose one of my feet and half of my face ... if I was lucky.
In the matter of one minute, I was wearing the first boots and breeches I’d put on in sixteen years, and we were flying through the streets again, sparks shooting from Musa’s shoes as we headed for the western gates.
A Derzhi prizes a fine horse above every other possession, and my presumption that Aleksander would have none but the best was fully justified. No pursuer came any closer to us that night. We raced out of the city and across the open valley floor toward the heavily forested mountains to the west. Even carrying the two of us together, Musa never faltered. About the time the darkness thinned to the color of watered milk, the road narrowed and entered the trees, and the Prince slowed his steed to a walk. The lolling gait made me drowsy....
... they kept coming, wave after wave. A Derzhi warrior leading his four cadre brothers, and behind them a troop of Manganar foot soldiers and mounted Thrid mercenaries, ivory talismans dangling over painted breastplates. A scream from behind me. Verwynn, my father’s friend, fell, a Thrid spear in his gut. My leaden arms were covered with blood. Still they came ... unending waves of blood and death ... I had to hold until the others got away. I was a Warden, sworn to protect them ...
“Daughters of night!” Aleksander’s exclamation as we jerked to a halt startled me awake. The Prince was bent forward, pressing his head into his hands that clutched at Musa’s mane. Clawing shivers crept along my spine, more than could be explained by the icy droplets dribbling down my neck from the thick branches overhead.
“Is it the change, my lord?” I said, ready to scramble from the horse rather than share it with a shengar.
“No.” Aleksander straightened up again and spurred the horse to a walk.
As soon as Musa settled, so did I. My head rested heavy against Aleksander’s back. I could not seem to keep the dreams at bay ...
... the sunset stained the sky red as if the earth could not hold all the blood. I whirled about, kicked the knife from the hand of a Derzhi youth, and slashed at the grinning Manganar, who was sneaking up my blind side, his last thought amazement at how I knew he was there. To my left the brothers Giard and Feyn—Searchers called in from their rounds—struggled with at least eight warriors. To my right all was silence—though as I flung the lifeless youth onto the pile of bodies behind me and rushed to Giard’s aid, I strained to hear the sound of reinforcements. Ten or twelve other Ezzarians were similarly engaged, and coming up the narrow valley were more Derzhi ... another wave ... how had they found us? We had been sure that no one knew of this route. We were hoping to surprise the main body of their force before they could slaughter our left flank, but before we could get out of the shallow valley, we were trapped. Feyn gasped in astonishment when the arm that had slain fifty warriors dropped from his shoulder, severed by a Manganar ax. When the sword released his entrails from his belly, he toppled slowly onto his arm as if to reclaim it. I roared in madness and raised my sword again . . .
“... for the moment, but they’ll bring in Janque as soon as they can get him sober.”
I didn’t know where the first part of the conversation had gotten off to. “Janque?” My tongue was thick with sleep.
“The finest tracker in Capharna. As I said, it’s why I went west when we’re supposed to go north. He’ll have a harder time following us through here. I’ve left him six false trails. He’ll eat his hounds for breakfast.”
Hounds. Trackers. What was I thinking to lead the Derzhi down on the remnants of my destroyed people? “My lord, we can’t—”
He knew exactly what was in my mind. “I know what I’m doing. They’ll not be able to follow us. Even Janque. Go back to sleep.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Are you arguing with me? Just because I gave you boots, you think you can say what you please?”
“No. Of course not.” We rode on and I lost track of the day again.
The shadows were angled in a vastly different direction when we stopped and I fell off the horse. Well, I didn’t exactly fall. Aleksander pulled me off. But it was the same gut-twisting sensation, and I ... I had been deep in that other place.
“Ho, Seyonne. All’s well.” He caught one flailing hand in his steady grip, but I wrenched it away, whirled about, and aimed for his neck with the side of the other hand and for his gut with my knee. It was only his own impeccable reflexes and my lack of practice that kept me from breaking his neck.
“What in Athos’ name ... ?” His eyes were huge, and when the thunder in my blood quieted enough to realize what I’d done—and almost done—I was appalled.
“Forgive me, my lord. I was dreaming ...” I could scarcely speak for the shadows crowding one upon the other to escape my head before I could capture them and remember the fading vision.
“Dreaming? I’ve not seen three men who could move so fast and so ... deadly ... when they were fully awake.” He looked at my hands that were clamped in his own, then released them and moved his gaze to my face.
“Happily one of them was you,” I said, drawing my cloak about me against wind that was not half so cold as my soul. “I’ve heard people can do amazing things in their sleep that they couldn’t possibly—”
Aleksander held up his hand and closed his eyes. “Don’t. I told you, I’ll hear no more of your pitiful lying. I’d rather you say nothing at all.”
“As you wish, my lord.” We were stopped in a small clearing away from the road. I climbed up a pile of rocks beside the trail and looked out on a high mountain valley still locked in the embrace of winter. Frost snapped a limb somewhere deep in the trees, and the screech of a hunting falcon split the bitter air.
“What I wish is to know what you are, Seyonne. A slave held sixteen years who moves like a Lidunni fighter.... Were you in service to one of them, or someone who studied their ways? You watched them, didn’t you? Someone allowed you to see, or you spied on him and learned it.”
“No, my lord. No one is responsible for teaching a slave things that are forbidden.” The Lidunni Brotherhood was a secretive sect of Derzhi who mixed religion and the art of hand combat.
“You snapped my grip as if I were a five-year-old girl. I will know how you learned it. If you knew this from before ... how in Athos’ name were you taken captive?”
The taste of death was in my mouth. It was all too close. “Please, my lord. Not now. I’ll tell you some day if you insist, but not now.” I tried to keep the moment’s disturbance out of my voice, the inexplicable dread that constricted my throat and made my heart race when I dreamed. That battle was long lost. There was no reason for it to take on new life just because I was going to see Ezzarians. The dead were dead. The living ... had survived. “Is this the place that was shown to you?”
“Damnation, you’re stubborn,” said the Prince, cheeks and eyes blazing. “You try my patience, and I’ve little enough of it in the best of times. If I weren’t asleep on my feet, we’d have it out right now. After what I’ve seen ...”
“You’ve seen nothing but the remnant of a dream, my lord. Please tell me if this is the place.”
“No, not yet.” He propped his hands on Musa’s saddle and leaned on it tiredly. “And just as well. I’d not be awake to greet anyone.”
“We need a fire,” I said, shaking off the lingering shadows. The sun was low over the mountains. It must have been weeks since I’d gotten more than three hours’ sleep in a sun’s turning. The Prince was still staring at the saddle, and it came to me that there were a number of things he had never had to do for himself. “I can take care of the horse, so you can sleep.”
Aleksander snorted in irritation as he stirred himself and began unbuckling the girth straps. “You need have no fear. Dmitri would not allow me to have servants when I was training. I can care for Musa, put on my own boots, and even cook a fair rabbit if there is one in such a frozen desolation as this.”
“There should be provision enough in the saddle packs for a few days,” I said.
“Good. Can’t say I want to go hunting at the moment. In fact, perhaps you had better do this part for me.” He nodded to the long leather sheath fastened to his saddle. I removed the sword and the three packs, and Aleksander hefted the saddle to the ground. He took the saddlecloth and rubbed down the handsome bay, talking to it more brotherly than I’d ever heard him address any human.
While he saw to the horse, I gathered wood, piled it behind a sheltering outcrop, and tried to convince my cold fingers to strike the flint. A fire would be welcome. The wind was bitter, and I was guiltily grateful for the wool shirt, thick breeches, and serviceable boots. They fit amazingly well. But for Aleksander’s whim, I could be facing frostbite, sepsis, and amputation.
Aleksander flopped down beside my miniscule flame and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. He was quiet, and I went about my business of nurturing the tantalizing wisps of fire. When next I glanced at him, he was trembling, and I thought his clenched fingers might press his eyes all the way into his skull.
“What is it, Your Highness?”
“Unholy ... cursed ... so real I can taste it. Can smell the blood. And when I try to think of something else”—he took a harsh breath—“I think my head is going to crack open and spill out what paltry brains I’ve got.” He shuddered. “Vile.”
Setting his jaw, he pushed away the damp hair that had come loose from his braid and plastered itself to his forehead, then started rummaging in the saddle pack, pulling out a tin cup, a packet of dried meat, another of dates, and another that, from his sigh of relief, must be the tannet bark and leaves used to make nazrheel. “Wake me when I can do something with this,” he said, tossing me the packet, then rolling up in his cloak and blanket, starting to snore before his last word was out.
“As you command,” I said automatically. The words lingered on my tongue, then dropped into my mind like stones into a quiet pond. I gazed on the deserted valley where ice fogs gathered in the low places in the fading light. The stones were sharp-edged gold, every ridge, corner, and crack shaped by the steep-angled beams. The wind stirred my hair with a frosty finger. Rarely had I ever experienced such a moment of perfect clarity.
I could walk away. I had a horse, clothes, and provisions, and the only man who could prevent me was half-mad with demon visions—oh, yes, I could guess the seductive horrors they were using to torment him. And now he was so deep asleep I could slice his throat if I wished. I could be free. The consideration was overwhelming. I already knew I would not leave him—my oath forbade it—but for an hour, as I fed the newborn flames and grew them into something that could thaw my bones and boil a cup of water, I indulged myself, setting my mind loose to imagine what it might be like.
It was a most discouraging exercise. I couldn’t think where I might go or what I might do or even what I might tell the first person who asked about the mark on my face. I had forbidden such thoughts for so long, I couldn’t summon them. All I knew was how to be a slave. Perhaps I could neither think nor act unbidden anymore.
When the stars had wheeled a quarter of the way through their night’s path, I boiled water in the cup and soaked the tannet bark, leaving the cup near the fire to stay warm. After another hour, I added the leaves, boiled the stuff again, and when the green-black mess was stinking in all its proper glory, I woke the Prince. A proper duty for a slave.
“Well-done, Seyonne,” he said, sipping slowly, savoring the nasty, bitter drink. “If you want to sleep, I’ll watch for a while. I’ve had enough dreaming for three lifetimes. Bad enough they come when I’m awake. To sleep is to invite more.”
“I slept all day,” I said. “I’ll do another stint.” I stepped away from the fire to relieve myself. In my unaccustomed fumbling with layers of clothes, I found the paper stuck in the pocket of the slave’s tunic I still wore underneath my shirt. It was the letter I’d taken from Aleksander’s chamber on my way to his tower prison. When I returned to the fire, I gave it to the Prince and told him its history.
“It’s from Kiril.” He twirled it in his fingers. “Do you know why we always use red wax?”
“I’d guess it has something to do with blood,” I said.
He laughed. “Good guess. When we were boys, we made a blood oath to be closer than brothers. To slay each other’s enemies. We cut our palms and put them together as boys do. When Dmitri sent us to opposite ends of the Empire, we started mixing blood in the wax to remind ourselves of our promise. A few years ago we agreed that red wax was sufficient. Do you think that means anything? That our zeal is less true?” He poked up the fire, motioned me closer, and tossed me the letter. “Read it.”
I broke the red wax and began.
Zander,If I judge rightly, you should receive this on the eve of your anointing. I trust you have had a merry party and not found the rites too tedious.You are to be Emperor. Not soon, if the gods are gracious to your honored father, but you will be the next. We have always talked of it frivolously, but certain events of late have caused me to give it more sober thought, and to hope that amidst the wine and music, women and feasting, you have found time to do the same.Dmitri has sent me news of your falling out. Zander, you must repair it. You joke about me being his favorite, and in truth, he was never so harsh with me as he was with you. With my own father dead so long and you with a surfeit of fathering—at least in name—perhaps it was his way of balancing our fates. But there was more. Only in these past weeks have I come to understand that his strictness with you was not lack of fondness, rather the opposite. You will be Emperor, Zander, and of all things he wishes you strong enough to survive it and honorable enough to be good at it. I have often said I would not trade parentage with you, and though it means I am a junior dennissar forever, I say it again. There is trouble coming. Dmitri sees it and is afraid that you have not. Even here in my backwater post, I am greatly uneasy.I told you of my mission to find a residence for Kydon, the Khelid legate here in Parnifour, and of his extraordinary demands for its equipage. I found a place that would suit, got him settled in it, and now as I look on it, I wonder what in Athos’ name I’ve done. The castle is the old frontier fortification in the foothills of the Khyb Rash. This Khelid now lurks on the very border of the Empire.Since the day Kydon moved in, the Khelid presence in Parnifour has multiplied rapidly. I don’t see how it’s possible. The legate says they are just his staff, who have been scattered through the town until he got a proper residence. But I cannot believe they have been here all the time. AmIafool, Zander? I have seen Kydon’s hired laborers carting stones and timbers into his new keep. He tells me it is for repair, but when I question the laborers, they say they are carving out new rooms deep under the castle, and that once the rough stonework is done, the Khelid do not allow anyone to go inside them. They say there are more Khelid in the keep even than we see here in the town. And all are heavily armed.Now Kydon wishes to build a temple to his gods on the holy mount in the center of Parnifour. The Emperor’s warrant specifically states that I am to do everything in my power to make Kydon comfortable. I have sent to the Emperor for instructions as to whether this project fits the warrant, but Kydon is already warning the nearby merchants and householders that the Emperor will soon be telling them to move away from the base of the mount so a wall can be built about this temple. It will be a fortress in the middle of the city.I don’t know what to think of this or to do about it save lay my misgivings in your lap. I have gone on too long. Fond greetings to our uncle. And listen to him.May the blessings of Athos shine down on you, cousin. I am ever your sworn and dutiful servant, as well as your devoted kinsman,Kiril
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