Will Shetterly - Witch Blood (10 page)

“So leave,” I said.

“To go where?” Naiji asked.

“Witchhold,” I offered.

“An interesting myth,” Talivane said. “But I’ve found no evidence that such a city exists anywhere outside of children’s stories. I’d rather try to create Witchhold here than devote my life to seeking a fable.”

I shrugged and returned my attention to my soup, saying, “Never sought, never found.”

Talivane slammed his fist on the table. His wife cringed. He said, “I have obligations, foreigner! Would you have my people wander the world, hated and hounded by all they meet?”

“Did I say they should?”

He stared at me, then said, “If you’re suggesting I’m afraid to set out—”

“I say what I say, Gromandiel. What you infer is not necessarily what I imply.”

He laughed suddenly. “I like you, Rifkin. You’ve got the stupid courage of a good hound.”

“Woof, woof,” I said. Naiji smiled and Kivakali put her hand over her mouth to cover a giggle. When I am charming, I am very charming.

Talivane shook his head. “I’ve sought Witchhold. In person and in print. All I find are references to a land where human and beast are equals.”

Kivakali, musing, whispered, “Go east of dawn and west of night, where high is low and dim is bright, and there the dreams of free folk are, where cold is warm, where near is far.”

With thick sarcasm, Talivane said, “Thank you, my wife.”

Embarrassed, she said, “I heard the song as a child.”

“Which tells me nothing, as that could mean twenty years ago or this afternoon.”

Naiji said, “My heart, you needn’t—”

“I married her,” Talivane said. “Do I not endure her wonderfully well?”

Naiji pursed her lips. Kivakali’s chin was tucked and her small hands, holding a napkin, trembled.

I told Talivane, “I imagine it’s that quality of quiet forbearance that endears you to everyone you meet.”

“Don’t test my patience,” Talivane said. “You’ve seen my power.”

“I’m not your pet, Gromandiel. If you want me to teach your people, fight your foes, or be anything more than your sister’s guard, remember that.”

He shook his head and smiled. “You speak bravely, Rifkin, yet you sold yourself to Naiji in order to live as her dog.”

“She offered a service and told me its price. I accepted.”

“Oh?” He cupped his hand in a way that I disliked. “I, then, offer your life to you, if you’ll swear to serve me.”

“No.”

His eyes narrowed. “You would die?”

“I assume you refer to something quicker than old age?”

“I do, Rifkin.”

“So you say. I won’t believe it until I experience it, of course. I doubt I’d be able to believe it then.”

Small sparks began to dance in his palm. “You have two choices. Make one.”

“No.”

“You doubt I would kill you?”

“I think if you intended to, you would’ve already tried.”

Talivane nodded, and the sparks disappeared. “You’re right.”

“Then play no more games with me,” I said, wondering if anyone else noticed that the smell of fresh sweat had joined the odors of my jacket.

“You order me?” He seemed more incredulous than affronted.

“I advise you.”

“A fine distinction.”

I sighed. “You’ve been trying to learn about me with your little tests, witch lord. You think that understanding me will give you power over me. I’ll offer you understanding, then, and you may take it as power, if you can. Along the coast of the Ladizhar those who try to take another’s life forfeit all right to their own. If I ever believe you are sincere in any threat made against your sister or me, I’ll kill you and think no more about it.”

“A bold statement, Rifkin.“

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew me, Gromandiel. I’m not fond of death.” I sipped my wine. “I’ll offer another bit of knowledge to you, the First Step of the Path: The reason for the world is life, and the reason for life is the world.”

“Typical circuitous mysticism.”

“That’s because you hear my words, but not what they imply. If life is the purpose of the universe, premature death is heresy. For me to tell you that I would kill—”

“But you have killed,” Naiji noted.

“Only those who attempted to kill others. Were I wiser, I might’ve found a better way to escape the bear and avert the Spirits.”

Talivane turned to his sister and sadly shook his head. “This is the fighter you bring me?”

“If he can stop Komaki without killing, I, at least, would be content, dear brother. And if he can’t...” Naiji smiled at me. “Then our pacifist will have to slay as many of the Duke’s warriors as the most kill-mad of our band.”

Talivane patted his lips with his napkin. “Our conversation takes a rather morbid turn.”

“It’s not as if we’re sure Komaki will attack,” Naiji told me. “We only suspect it. My brother sent a message by pigeon to Queen Janiavy just yesterday, asking her to sustain the peace.”

“It didn’t arrive,” said Kivakali.

Talivane stared at her.

“The cook dreamt of a small bird shot with a green arrow,” she explained hesitantly.

“The cook,” Talivane said with a sneer.

Naiji laid her hand on his arm. “Dovriex is almost as good a seer as he is a chef.”

Talivane still watched his wife. “Green, you said?”

Kivakali nodded.

“Your father’s color.”

“Yes.”

“I never should have married you.”

She gnawed her lip. “I...”

“Yes?”

“I don’t aid him against you.”

“Of course not. You’re too cowardly for that.”

She stood and threw her napkin at him. It fell short of his plate. “I also know my duty!” Her eyes had filled with tears. “I...” Her features were etched in anguish as she glanced at each of us. “Please, excuse me,” she gasped, then covered her face and ran from the room.

Talivane sighed as he brushed aside Kivakali’s napkin. “I might enjoy her outbursts more if they were more original.”

“She suffers,” I said.

“Who doesn’t?”

“In the south, unhappy alliances are easily ended.”

“I won’t surrender her dowry, Rifkin. Nor will I return Komaki’s daughter to him.”

Naiji, seeing my expression, said, “The old king forced the marriage on us, partly to prevent war, partly to keep my brother from wooing Janiavy.”

I said, “That seems to have proven futile, on both counts.”

Naiji nodded. “Komaki seems to think his daughter’s safety is a price worth paying. And Kivakali, while she lives, may keep my brother from marrying Janiavy, but she can’t stop him from being the Queen’s lover.”

“You’re very free with this information.”

Naiji glanced at Talivane, then said, “You’ll learn it all if you live with us. Anything I tell now may keep you from acting stupidly in the future.”

Talivane nodded. “I’ve little tolerance for stupidity.”

“It must be very difficult, being you.”

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “I think it would be best if you left us now.”

Naiji nodded agreement. She stood and stepped behind her brother’s chair to massage his forehead.

“The boy,” Talivane said, “will show you to your quarters. Chifeo, take Rifkin to the room that adjoins my sister’s.”

“Yes, master,” the boy whispered.

“See that all his needs are met.”

“Yes, master.”

“A bath might be a good start.”

“Yes, master.”

I said, “I don’t suppose you have little toy ships or ducks that float in the tub?”

“No, Rifkin.”

“Yet you assume all my needs can be met. Ah, well. Lead on, Chifeo.”

The boy took me back toward the library. He was quiet, probably overwhelmed by my wit. I was in no mood to talk. I had decided I despised Talivane and pitied Kivakali, though I did not know what to do about either. Naiji confused me, but my relationship with her was already shaped by my vow. It was best not to think about her at all.

The presence of the four captured Spirits in the dungeons disturbed me, as did the possibility that more might come. Or would Komaki give up on assassination and turn to attack? The thought of the Duke made me think again of his daughter, who seemed to deserve better than life had given her. Talivane’s opinion of his wife was obvious. I wondered what she thought of him.

“Here, Lord,” said the boy, opening a plain wooden door—which was, I realized, a luxury by Castle Gromandiel’s standards. Most of the doorways that we had passed had been draped with tapestries or animal skins to replace doors that, I assumed, had rotted away in the centuries since this castle’s prime.

“My name is Rifkin,” I said.

“Yes, Lord.”

“When I was your age, I kept a dog called Lord. I’d prefer you called me Rifkin.”

He stifled a grin. “Yes, Lor—”

“Woof,” I said.

It worked even better than it had at the dinner table. He laughed.

“Rifkin,” I said.

“Rifkin,” he agreed.

I stepped into the room. It was small, barely large enough to hold a sleeping pallet, but it was clean. The stone walls were bare, though an old rug, once red, covered most of the floor, and a sea-green quilt looked nice enough to have been Naiji’s. An elaborate door, carved with hunting scenes, was set into one wall. “That’s to Lady Naiji’s quarters?”

“Yes.”

I tried the latch. It would not lift. “You have the key?”

The boy shook his head. “Only Lady Naiji.”

“No matter. This’ll do.”

Chifeo nodded. He strode to a blanketed portal at the rear of the room and announced, “The bath.”

I looked in. A hot spring had been channeled to flow into a marble basin. The water departed through an enameled brass grill at the far wall. “This isn’t used for sewage, is it?”

He looked shocked. “No!” He pointed at a low stone seat covered by a wooden lid. “That’s the, ah...”

“The ah, eh?” I said. “A useful word to know in any language.”

He looked at me from the corners of his eyes.

“You’ve lived here long?” I asked.

He nodded warily.

“And you’re happy here?”

“I’m a witch.”

“That means you’re happy?”

“Here, yes. I remember Kondia. I’m happy here.”

“You fear Count Gromandiel?”

“Of course. He’s the mightiest of us all.”

“Really?”

Chifeo whispered, “He intends to rebuild the old Empire.”

“Oh? He seems to be lacking in resources.”

“There are hundreds of witches, maybe thousands, ready to join him!”

I looked around the room, lifted the lid of the toilet, then shrugged. “And well-hidden.”

“Most are afraid to come,” he said. “We must prove we can stand against Komaki. Then every witch within five hundred miles will join us.”

“You seem sure.”

He nodded. “Count Gromandiel has never failed.”

“It only takes once,” I said, “to ruin a perfect record.”

Chifeo glared. “You wait. The Count’ll succeed!”

“I hope so, lad. Truly. Didn’t you hear? I’m bound to his sister.”

“Oh. Well, don’t worry. We’re going to rule the world soon.”

“That should be fun,” I said.

“I believe someone said you’re from the south, Lor— Rifkin?”

“Yes.”

“I hear it’s better for witches, there.”

“No one’s trying to exterminate them, anyway.”

“I’ve heard that witches still rule there.”

“Not since the Spirits helped overthrow the Seaprince,” I said. “Leave me, Chifeo. I’ll bathe now.”

“But I’m to assist—”

“Strangely, I’ve managed to wash myself alone in the past. It is a talent of mine.”

“Oh.”

“And we’re more prudish in the south.”

“Oh. I’ll fetch towels.”

“Good.”

The moment he was gone, I stripped my tattered clothing from me and hid the hairpin and the stiletto with its thigh sheath in my boots. I found soaps for my body and hair in jars near the basin and was resting in the bath when Chifeo returned.

“May I enter?”

“Of course.”

He stepped in, noticed me in the water, and frowned. “I thought you said you were prudish.”

“Only about dressing and undressing.”

“Southerners are weird.”

“That’s been said before.”

He carried a bundle of clothing and towels. When I saw that he was about to take away my torn apparel, I said, “Leave the boots.”

“They’re not in very good shape.”

“Neither are my wits, yet I’d rather have them than another’s.”

The boy, unimpressed, shrugged and left. I lay still in the waters for some time and was almost in danger of falling asleep when I heard footsteps behind me.

“Chifeo?” I said.

“Hardly,” Naiji replied, “though he could be summoned.” She walked in front of me, smiled, and let her robe, a simple thing of blue silk, fall to the floor. “I felt bad that we didn’t have any toy ducks to give you company while you washed. Will I do instead?”

I smiled. I was slightly embarrassed being naked in front of her without any warning. Her nudity embarrassed me, too, for I did not know these people’s customs. Did she think that a boundman’s duties included scrubbing backs in baths? Her body was lean and pale and strong, and I hoped she expected me to be more than a bath attendant. She met my gaze, then blushed and covered her breasts with her arm. I wanted to say something like “I think I’m in love.” I only said, “Can you quack?”

She gave a perfect duck call.

“You’ll do very well.”

She slipped into the other end of the basin. “Know any water games, stranger?”

“One,” I said.

“Good.”

I squeezed my fist just below the water’s surface, squirting her face.

“Hey!”

“My son taught me that one.”

She shook her head, spraying water like a dog. “Remind me never to bathe with him.” She rose on her knees to dunk me.

“Unlikely,” I said. “He’s dead.”

Her eyes opened wide.

“Apologies,” I said. “That wasn’t fair of me. It happened years ago. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m sorry.”

I drew a circle in the air with my finger. “It’s the Path.”

“For your son,” Naiji said. “I’m sorry for you.”

“It doesn’t bother me anymore...”

“That’s good.”

“... much.”

She touched my cheek, then slid beside me. The sides of the shallow basin were curved so one person could lie sprawled, but two had to cuddle. Very aware of her hip against mine, I said, “It was years ago.”