Wolfsbane Winter (36 page)

“Unless I can talk the marshal around. I know some things that might swing a deal.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.” Deryn gestured with the bow. “Stop stalling and start climbing.”

Martez pouted, as if debating with himself whether to obey Deryn, but then he crossed the gully floor and began to scramble up the rocky slope directly toward her. Now his hands were free, he could make better progress.

Deryn tried to shift a few steps back. She had no intention of letting him get within lunging range, although moving along the edge was not easy. Trees grew up to the rim of the gully. They even overhung in places, allowing little space for maneuver. Deryn found one patch of ground, just big enough for her foot, a bare four inches wide, but she was boxed in with no more room to retreat. She opened her mouth to tell Martez to climb up a few yards farther along the gully, when she felt the ground move beneath her foot. The lip of the gully had been hollowed out and was giving way under her weight. Deryn tried to shift to firmer ground, but she was out of time and space. The edge of the gully crumbled and she dropped over the edge.

Her feet landed awkwardly on the loose gravel and stones of the gully wall. The footing was unstable, especially given the steepness. Deryn stood no chance of recovering her balance. She tumbled and slid down the slope and ended up on her face at the bottom of the gully, with one foot in the icy water of the stream. Luckily she suffered no injury worse than mild bruises and grazing.

Immediately, Deryn scrambled to her knees. The bow had been ripped from her grip on the way down. She frantically cast around and spotted it halfway up the slope, lodged on a protruding tree root. At the same time, Martez was slithering down the gully wall, his goal obvious. The Witch-Lord’s sword lay on the ground fifteen feet from where Deryn knelt—close, but not close enough. Martez was nearer and he was going to get to it before her. Even so, she had to try. Deryn launched herself forward, crawling, but already Martez was bending down, reaching for the sword.

Martez laughed softly as his fingers closed around the hilt. “What was the bit about being cold? What you said, back in the farmhouse? Oh yes, you said it would be warm in hell. I guess you are going to find out before me.”

Deryn stayed kneeling, not bothering to stand. The ground around her was carpeted in powdery snow. Beneath it, Deryn could feel the imprint of loose rocks. Working by touch, she selected one, the size of her fist. Martez was arrogantly confident, his eyes fixed on the blade of the sword, not her, as he held it up to the light. His mouth opened, undoubtedly to deliver another taunting threat, but he never got the chance. The thrown rock smashed against his temple. Deryn’s aim had always been good, with bow, knife, sling, or bare hand.

The blow thumped Martez back on his heels. He shook his head, as if hoping to clear it, but the motion only added to his daze. His balance was shaken and he stumbled to his knees. The second rock Deryn threw, bigger than the first, struck him square between the eyes. Martez landed flat on his back. Yet still his eyelids were open and his hand grasped the Witch-Lord’s sword, feebly attempting to brandish it.

Deryn selected a rock, far larger and heavier than those she had thrown so far, halfway to being a small boulder. She stood up and raised the stone above her head, using both hands. It took all her strength to lob it the six feet that lay between them.

Martez’s skull cracked open, like a coconut.

That one’s for you, Shea.

*

“The most powerful weapons demon magic can devise, and you killed him by throwing stones.” Marshal Palemon shook his head, clearly torn between disbelief and admiration.

“Martez was careless and wasn’t paying attention. He gave me a chance.”

“Overconfidence let him down.”

Deryn shrugged an agreement. To her mind, total self-belief was necessary for a warrior. In a fight, pessimism could so easily become a self-fulfilling prophecy. Martez’s failing had been the blinkering that went with arrogance.
Observe closely, miss nothing, and focus on what’s important.
This had been Brise’s summing up of what it took to be a successful scout, the mantra she had instilled in Deryn.

Martez had been too pleased with himself to really notice what was going on around him. He had thought the world could be bullied into being what he wanted it to be. His focus had been wrong. He had been too enamored of the sword in his hand to pay attention to her. Had he looked, he could have ducked the first stone. If he had correctly identified what was important, the outcome might well have gone his way.

The marshal rifled through a stack of papers on his desk and pulled one out. Even with the page upside down, the lettering at the top was big enough for Deryn to read Martez’s name there.

Palemon studied it briefly before continuing. “Regardless of how you did it, nailing Martez was a good job. There’s a big price on his head.” The corner of his mouth twitched into a fleeting ghost of a smile. “No matter what shape it’s in. And I won’t deny you your due, despite the difficulty it gives me.”

As Martez had said, the reward paid in the king’s name for turning over the Witch-Lord’s weapons had been derisory in relationship to their value, little more than a month’s pay to Deryn. However, the bounty for killing a wanted outlaw like Martez would be far more substantial.

Although disproportionate, it made some sort of sense. The king had no need to offer more than novelty value as a reward for handing over demon artifacts. Magic weapons were of no use to a law-abiding citizen. Even if Deryn held on to them, she dared not use them openly; otherwise she would be reported and arrested. Whereas a criminal would not hand over powerful weapons at any price. Furthermore, most commoners feared magic and would not want anything tainted by demons in their home. On the other hand, when it came to tackling an outlaw like Martez, honest citizens would need a real inducement to justify the risk. A large amount of money might also tempt a fellow criminal to betray him.

Deryn squinted, trying to make out the number printed below Martez’s name. She looked to be in line to receive some serious money, enough to see her through that winter, and probably the next two as well—certainly enough to quit the job in Neupor and head down south to visit Brise.

“You’re thinking you’re going to be shorthanded back at the station?”

“Yes. I’ve lost Sergeant Nevin as well.”

I’m not sure that
lost
is the right word.
Deryn kept the thought to herself. “I might be induced to stay there for the winter.”

Palemon frowned. “I’ll happily give you Nevin’s position, but I assume you’re talking about more than a sergeant’s salary.”

“I’ll take that as well, but I was thinking about the tomb. The king will want someone to investigate what else is there. If the money was right, I’d be willing to hang around in Neupor until spring as a guide for whoever he sends.”

“How much?”

“A hundred dollars.”

“Done.” Palemon’s eyes narrowed, possibly as he realized he had jumped at the offer a little too quickly. “You know you’ll be getting ten times that for Martez?”

“Yes. But I was going to be staying in Neupor anyway. No harm adding to the bonus.”

“Staying? Why?”

“There’s somebody I want to stay with.” Deryn grinned. “And if that’s all, sir, I’d quite like to head off as soon as possible, so I can return to her before the snows arrive.”

Palemon leaned back in his chair. His expression was halfway between amusement and disdain. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. We all know where Iron Wolves keep their brains.”

Deryn did not challenge the implication. Let him think what he wanted. She gave a small dip of the head and turned to go, but as the door closed she caught part of the marshal’s muttered parting shot.

“…a pulse and two legs.”

The jibe should have irritated her, but instead Deryn smiled. True, she wanted Alana physically, far more than she had ever wanted anyone in her life, but the emotion ran so much deeper and harder. She felt the familiar ache in her cheeks from where her smile had gotten too broad.

So this is what falling in love is like.

The rich aroma of the lamb stew simmering over the hearth blended with that of fresh-baked bread and wood smoke. Amber firelight washed over the comfortable clutter filling the single room of the small cottage. The effect ought to have been cozy and reassuring, especially by contrast with the wind whistling over the thatched roof, but Alana could not relax.

A knot of disquiet had been tightening in her all afternoon. She fought the urge to open the door once again and peer out. She did not need to see how dark it was getting, or how the snow was coming down ever harder. She certainly did not want to get into the pointless game of estimating its depth and trying to judge whether the pass to Oakan would be blocked yet.

Why had Deryn not returned? Alana had expected her back by midday at the latest. Surely four full days was enough to complete the round trip. Had something gone wrong? Alana rubbed her forehead. She would not give in to panic. She would wait ten more minutes, then eat dinner and go to bed. Tomorrow she would go down to Neupor and see what news she could find. And then she would—

Alana slumped in her chair and rested her head in her hands. What would she do? What could she do? Supposing Deryn did not return. Alana closed her eyes at the thought, in part to hold back the silly tears. She should save them for when they were needed. All she was doing now was pointlessly upsetting herself.

The latch rattled. Alana was on her feet even before the door started to swing open.

Deryn stood in the doorway, a dusting of wet snow glittering on her hair and shoulders. More swirled wraithlike behind her in the fading light. Her lips were tinged with blue and the hint of darkness under her eyes revealed a lack of sleep, but she appeared unharmed and gave off no emotion other than joy.

Alana flung herself into Deryn’s arms. “I was starting to worry.”

“I’m sorry, it—”

The explanation could wait. Alana silenced the words with a kiss. Deryn’s lips and skin were cold, but their touch flooded Alana with warmth.

Deryn’s response was initially enthusiastic but short-lived. “Um.”

Alana searched her face, anxiously. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m cold.”

“That’s all? You’re not hurt?”

“No.”

“But what took you so long?”

Deryn laughed. “It’s a bit of a story. Why don’t you let me get inside and shut the door first?”

An icy gust carried with it a plume of snow, underlining the point. Even so, letting go of Deryn for the scant seconds it took to shut out the wintry dusk was an act of willpower. As soon as the door was closed Alana caught hold of Deryn’s hand and drew her closer to the fire. Again she burrowed into the security of Deryn’s embrace and nestled her forehead into the hollow of Deryn’s neck.

“So what’s the story? Did Nevin do something stupid?”

“Yes, very.”

“Damn the man. What’s wrong with him?”

“Quite a lot now. He’s dead.”

“What!”

“As I said, it’s a bit of a story.” Deryn took a deep breath, as if to launch into speech, but clearly became distracted and turned her face instead to the hearth. “Is that dinner cooking? I’m starved. How about we eat while I tell you?”

Now that the anxious knot inside her had loosened, Alana was aware that she also was more than a little hungry, but she still wanted another long kiss and a few minutes with her arms around Deryn before she did anything about serving the food.

While eating, they sat side by side, with legs pressed against each other, from ankle to thigh. It limited the elbow room, but was so comforting, especially when Deryn’s tale reached its most dramatic parts. Alana could listen with the physical reassurance that all would work out well, even if she could not fully share Deryn’s pleasure at the bounty for Martez. The reward seemed small in comparison to the danger involved, especially when considering just how much money the king’s chief marshal had at her disposal.

Deryn seemed happy enough, though, at least in terms of the amount. “Sorting out the bounty claim was what took so long. I’d hoped to get away once I’d handed over the bodies, but Palemon had me giving sworn statements and signing claims and contracts all of yesterday. It was too late to set out by the time it was done, but since it’s just me and Ross now, and I’m acting sergeant, we were able to leave Oakan before dawn. Just as well, because the way it’s snowing, if we’d left it any later, we wouldn’t have made it.” Deryn smiled. “I think we might be snowed in up here now until spring.”

Alana put down her empty bowl and wrapped her arm around Deryn’s waist. “Snowed in for months with you doesn’t sound too bad.”

“It’ll give us time to work out what we do next.” Deryn’s tone was devoid of emphasis as she delivered the words, but her emotions flared with doubt, verging on distress.

Alana looked sharply in her direction. “You’re worried about something?”

Deryn was staring at the flames. “I don’t know, it’s…” She sighed and caught her lip in her teeth.