Agnith's Promise: The Vildecaz Talents, Book 3 (19 page)

“A kuatiree?” Onpoleneraz bellowed in disbelief.

“What else causes such trouble?” Ferzal shouted her answer. “It wants to take the barge down!”

“That’s tagono,” Onpoleneraz yelled as another judder went through the barge. “Hold on!”

Doms and Ninianee remained in the bow of the barge, holding onto the front-stay. “Is it a kuatiree?” Doms asked, riding the pitching barge with apparent ease. “Or is it something else.”

Ninianee kept one arm firmly around the front-stay. “I don’t know.”

“Well, you can communicate with animals – can’t you summon up a kuatiree?” His question was only half in jest.

“No, since it isn’t an animal. Erianthee could do it, if she were here,” said
Ninianee, doing her utmost not to be frightened.

“Too bad,” said Doms with a philosophical grimace. “The barge can’t take much more of this.”

“No, it can’t,” Ninianee agreed as the barge swooped down a curving mound of water, only to flatten abruptly on what seemed to be a hidden shelf of rock. The shock of this impact throbbed along the keel, the wood moaning from the strain. “Another one like that and it’ll come apart.”

There was the sharp report of something cracking, and at the same time a surge in the water sent the barge swinging around whatever was holding them. As they moved athwart the current, the barge rocked more dangerously, and as a scend welled against the craft, the steering-oar flung up and out, knocking Onpoleneraz into the water. Shouting, he tried to grab the leather fenders hanging along the hull, but missed them, and was pulled away in the river, his hand still stretched out. The three people remaining on the barge stared in shock as Onpoleneraz vanished under the churning water.

“May Reonoj, the Ubiquitous, spare us that fate,” said Ninianee, appalled by what she had seen. It had been three years since she had Changed into a seal and been caught at the end of the first night almost a league from shore. That long swim had almost killed her and left her with a horror of drowning. Watching Onpoleneraz vanish made her feel sick.

“And may Monianaj seek for other companions than ours,” said Doms, and managed to work one arm around Ninianee. “We have to get off this before it breaks up. Swim for the towpath on the northern bank.”

“In this water?” Ninianee was stunned at his suggestion.

“If we wait until the barge comes apart, we’ll have no chance, especially if there’s a kuatiree doing it.” He waited while the barge writhed around the edge of an ominous eddy. “There really isn’t any other choice, Ninianee. At least we’ll have a chance.”

Dread of the noise the barge made as it bucked in the river, rising panic as the deck shivered, filled the ponies’ and mules’ minds. Ninianee could summon up no images to calm them.

“There isn’t another choice, is there?” She saw him nod. “Then I have to free the animals. I can’t leave them here,” Ninianee went on, glad to hold onto Doms as the barge gave a tremendous shudder.

“All right, but do it quickly,” said Doms. “One more big shock and the keel will come off and that will take the barge under. Without a steering-oar, we’re at the mercy of the current.” He touched her face. “I won’t let you drown, Ninianee.”

“You can’t promise that, not with the river near flood,” she said, and before her nerve could fail her, she broke away from him and lumbered down the moaning deck to the four open stalls. She unfastened the halters of the mules and ponies, then slid open the doors, slapping and whistling to get the animals to emerge. She pictured in her mind the northern shore, and she added the image of swimming, and was rewarded with Danliree scrambling across the canting deck to the river and plunging in. At once the others followed, and Ninianee went to the side of the barge only to find Ferzal there, her arms folded, her feet planted firmly on the keening deck.

“Don’t jump. It’s madness. You can’t swim in such a river, not with a kuatiree causing trouble.” The pilot gave Ninianee a determined stare.

“I have to, or let the barge plunge me into its wreckage. As risky as swimming would be, waiting for this vessel to break apart is more dangerous still.” She felt more than saw Doms come up behind Ferzal. An instant later, he and the pilot were in the water, and Ninianee leaped after them. Water closed over her head, tugging at her and pulling her downward. She struggled to get to the surface, gasping as she felt the chill air on her face. For two deep breaths she was disoriented as the river swept her along. Then she caught sight of one of the mules struggling out of the water onto the towpath, and she swam toward that spot, all the while being carried inexorably downstream. She looked about for her animals, and for Doms, but could see none of them as the river carried her beneath the shadow of a rocky promontory high above her. Forcing herself to keep swimming, although her arms felt impossibly slow and weak, and her kicks made no headway, Ninianee felt something brush her leg. She almost shrieked. A sharp kick and she was beyond whatever it was, and once more trying to reach the shore, although now her water-logged clothes were weighing her down, making each movement more difficult. Mustering all her determination, she put on a last burst of energy and made for the northern shore. She was already very tired, and wondered if the kuatiree had magical skills to snare her in the river. With a last, despondent summoning of will, she swam for the bank, trying not to look at how far she had to go. For what seemed to be an hour, she continued her mindless efforts, wanting to put off her drowning until the last possible moment.

There was gravely sand under her hand, and then, her foot touched the bottom of a protected pool out of the main current. Dazed, Ninianee got to her feet and staggered ashore, only to collapse against a huge driftwood log. She lay over its twisted bulk, panting and trying to restore a little strength to her exhausted limbs. The sun was fairly warm but would soon drop behind the high walls of the canyon, and then her wet clothes would turn cold, making her situation much worse. She rose long enough to peel off her pelgar and zenft, laying them out on the driftwood to dry. Shivering as the wind picked up, Ninianee huddled down against the flank of the log, and thought of how much she had lost with the barge – all her things were gone, and her animals. The one mule she had seen get out of the river might not want to be caught again, not that she was in any condition to chase down a mule, or even a redcoon, she thought. She called out to the mules and ponies with her mind, looking around her to establish an image of her location in their minds, but she could not keep her focus as fatigue overcame her.

What she needed right now, she knew, was a fire, a meal, and some sleep. If she had those, she could then turn her attention to what she would have to do next: it would be a long, hungry, lonely journey back to Vildecaz with animals, supplies, money, and Doms all gone. And with that forlorn thought of Doms Guyon, sleep, soothing and muffling, caught up with her, and for the rest of the night all the losses she had endured that day were forgotten.

* * *

Housekeeper-General Dochanee Rocazin offered Poyneilum Zhanf a respect before she entered the library. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, but I must talk to you about Last and First Day celebrations. We have made no plans for the feasts.” She stepped into the room as Zhanf returned her respect.

“Would celebrations be appropriate, under the present circumstances?” Zhanf asked. He glanced over at Neilach Drux. “You would know better than I what would be best – with the Duz and Duzeons absent, what kind of festivities would Nimuar expect the Duzky to keep?”

“Duz Nimuar always deferred to the General and his daughters on such matters,” said Nimuar’s valet. He regarded General Rocazin with curiosity. “Do you have something in mind?”

“Actually,” said General Rocazin, “I have three possibilities that I would like to propose to you. I think you may find that each has its merits, and each has certain disadvantages, but I don’t want to make a decision without consulting you, since you stand as deputy to the Duz and Duzeons.” She put her hands into the square sleeves of her gaunel and continued formally. “If you would like to discuss the matter now, I am at your disposal. If you would prefer another time, you have only to suggest it to me. I can accommodate my schedule to yours.”

“Now is satisfactory,” said Zhanf with an inclusive glance at Drux. “Do sit down, General, and tell me what’s on your mind.”

General Rocazin selected the high-backed chair upholstered in a tapestry showing the meeting of Burinee and Lorjoran, the Provider. Her composure was reassuring to Zhanf and Drux as she waited for them to join her near the fireplace. “I have given this much thought, and discussed it with Cook-Major Ver Mindicaz, attempting to decide how we’re to proceed. We have agreed to certain limits that will not burden the kitchen overmuch, or make an unseemly display at a time when too much jollity would be inappropriate.”

“That’s wise of you,” said Zhanf. “At this time, too much display would be seen as offensive to many.”

General Rocazin made a sign of agreement. “We have an increased awkwardness in that First Day is Duzeon Ninianee’s birthday. If she hasn’t returned, our observance of the occasion must follow Vildecazin traditions for such instances, which would include a half-meal, the other half to be served on her return.” She let the men consider this, then continued. “I believe that Last Night bonfires should be lit, no matter what else we decide to do, and an entertainment of some sort be arranged. Nothing extravagant, but enough to mark the occasion.”

“It is customary in fortunate times and desolate ones,” Drux said, supporting the General.

“I’ll dispatch Burinar to Valdihovee to engage performers for the evening, if this is satisfactory to you? It isn’t too early to make such arrangements, as many other hosts will be vying for such amusements for Last and First Day festivities.” General Rocazin paused. “Unless you have other suggestions?”

“Your plan is satisfactory,” said Zhanf. “But nothing too . . . too magical. Let him hire those whose performances don’t depend on magic.”

“I’ll so instruct him,” said General Rocazin. “I have thought that a meal of game cooked over open fires would compliment the bonfires. We would have to send out hunting parties to supply it, but that can be arranged, particularly if the weather holds. If that is too much of an extravagance, then pigs and sheep can take the place of game, or all manner of ducks and geese.” She was silent for a dozen heartbeats. “If we have such a celebration, it would be prudent to send an invitation to Maeshar of Otsinmohr, and to Boarthinee, for all they may be our enemies.”

Zhanf frowned thoughtfully. “Could we limit those attending to Vildecazin, because the Duz and Duzeons aren’t here to serve as hosts?”

“It could be an acceptable excuse,” said General Rocazin. “But we would have to have a more restrained celebration in that case – which I have considered. We could send Last and First Day gifts to Otsinmohr and Cazboarth, including to the Bindomaj capital, and extend an invitation for the Return Welcoming for Duz Nimuar when that happy time comes.”

Drux shook his head. “Most of our neighbors think Duz Nimuar is dead, and could regard such an invitation as a sign that his death has not been confirmed. Yet, if we postpone our invitation against his return, we could offend many. We don’t want to encourage our neighbors to think we are postponing the Rituals to the Silent One until one of the Duzeons is here to continue the rule.”

There was a discreet knock on the door, and from the far side, Heijot Merinex called out, “May I join you?”

The three exchanged quick, uncertain glances, and then General Rocazin said,”He is the official magician for the Castle, Magsto. He should be part of our decisions.”

Zhanf nodded, anticipating that they would have to deal with a number of secondary issues the Castle magician was sure to raise. “Enter, Merinex.” As the door opened, he offered a respect. “We’re trying to determine how best to celebrate Last and First Day.”

“I’m glad some thought’s being given to them. If we’re seen as neglectful, it will redound to the Duzky’s discredit. There must be rumors enough in the region without adding more gossip to the whispers..” Merinex went to the upholstered bench and sat down carefully, making sure the elaborate sleeves of his gaihups were not too near the fire. “If we’re to have a celebration of any kind, we must find out what others expect us to do.”

“Our difficulty stems from the Duz and Duzeons not being here,” said Zhanf.

“Of course,” said Merinex. “A tricky situation, for nothing we choose will be
entirely satisfactory.”

“True enough,” said Zhanf, “but we must decide what will be the least offensive.” He looked at General Rocazin. “You were saying about the belief shared by some of Vildecaz’s neighbors regarding Duz Nimuar, and you were saying that we could use the occasion to reaffirm our confidence in his return. Do you have any suggestions for what would be the most effective way to achieve this?”

She nodded. “We could make it very plain that we expect him to return, that we have already planned the festivities.”

“We’d have to do that, of course,” said Merinex before anyone else could speak. He stared up at the ceiling. “We must rely on other occasions when the Duz wasn’t here, and use those festivities for our standard.”

“And we’d have to make everyone understand that we have plans for an extensive Return Welcoming, because we know they are all returning,” said Drux, speaking out with purpose. “Otherwise we’ll be thought to be avoiding our obligations, or are afraid they are all lost.”