Athyra (15 page)

“Do you know,” said Savn suddenly, “it just occurred to me that if there are people looking for us, and if they are at all nearby, the smell will bring them right to us.” He took another bite of roasted norska.

Vlad grunted and said, “Should my friends take that as a compliment on their choice of food?”

Savn took his time chewing and swallowing, then said, “Yes.”

“Good. I think the cave is deep enough that no smells will escape.”

“AH right,” said Savn.

Polyi was still eating and not talking. Savn tried to decide if she was looking sullen, but he couldn’t tell.

“It’s the wine that does it,” said Vlad. His voice seemed slightly stronger; at any rate, he seemed to have no trouble talking. “Cooking over an open flame is its own art, and doesn’t have much to do with oven cooking or stove cooking. I’m not really good at it. But I know that wine always helps.”

Savn wondered if it was the wine that made the norska taste so good, or if it was really the circumstances—if it wasn’t still the feeling that he was on some sort of adventure. He knew there was something wrong with thinking about it this way, but how could he help it? He was sitting in a cave with a man who spoke of killing His Lordship, and he was eating norska taken with magic—

“Vlad,” he said suddenly.

“Mroi?” said Vlad. Then he swallowed and said, “Excuse me. What?”

“I had always heard that it was bad luck to hunt with magic, except for finding the game.”

“I’ve heard that, too.”

“Well, then,” said Savn. “What about—”

“Oh, this? Well, it wasn’t exactly magic. At least, not directly.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Never mind. It isn’t important.”

Savn decided that he was probably never going to understand what Vlad thought important. The most trivial things seemed to provoke the biggest reactions, like when Savn had mentioned that His Lordship’s men hadn’t been using Morganti weapons. Savn shook his head, wondering.

All of a sudden Polyi said, “You can’t kill His Lordship.”

Vlad looked at her without speaking.

Savn said, “Polyi—”

“Well,” she said to Vlad. “You can’t.”

“Of course not,” said Vlad.

“But you mean to. I know it.”

“Polyi—”

“Just out of curiosity,” said Vlad, “why couldn’t I kill him?”

“He’s a wizard.”

“So?”

Polyi frowned. “They say that he can never die, because his magic protects him. They say that there are rooms in his keep where he just walks in and comes out younger, and that he is only as old as he wants to be. They say—”

“And how much of this do you believe?”

“I don’t know,” said Polyi.

Savn said, “If it’s true, though—”

“It’s true that he’s a sorcerer.”

“Well, then?”

“No matter how subtle the wizard, a knife between the shoulder blades will seriously cramp his style.”

Savn couldn’t find an answer to that, so he didn’t make one. He looked at Polyi, but she was just staring angrily at Vlad. There was a sense of unreality about the entire conversation—it was absurd that they could be talking about killing His Lordship as if discussing the price of linen. There had been a time, some five years before, when he, Coral, and Lan had drunk wine until they had become sick. The thing he remembered most clearly about the incident, other than walking around for the next week hoping Mae and Pae didn’t find out about it, was sitting with his head bent over, focusing on nothing except the tabletop, slowly memorizing every mark on it. The memory came back to him with such a rush that it almost brought along the giddy, sickly, floating feeling he had had then.

At last he said, “But what if he is undead, like you say?”

“He is,” said Vlad. “That makes it a little trickier, that’s all.”

“Then you admit you’re going to do it,” said Polyi, in the same tone of voice she used upon discovering the piece for her game under Savn’s blankets.

“What if I am?” said Vlad. “Do you think I should just let him kill me?”

“Why don’t you teleport away?” said Savn.

“Heh,” said Polyi. “Teleport? If he could do that, he could have fixed his finger.”

“Polyi—” said Savn.

“First of all,” said Vlad, looking at Polyi. “I’m not a physicker. A physicker who knew sorcery could have healed my hand if I’d gotten to him quickly. Now it would be very difficult, and I haven’t been in touch with anyone that good in some time.

“Second,” he continued, looking now at Savn, “never attempt complicated sorcery—and teleportation is complicated—when you’re weak in the body. It upsets the mind, and that can be fatal. I’ve done it, when I’ve had to, and I will again, if I have to. But I’ve been lucky, and I don’t like to depend on luck.

“Third,” he said, addressing them both, “I do, indeed, intend to kill Loraan—

Baron Smallcliff. But I’m in no shape to do so now. He knows I want to kill him; he killed Reins in order to draw me in, so that when I tried to kill him he could kill me. I don’t know everything that’s going on yet, so I don’t know how I’m going to kill him. If I did, I certainly wouldn’t tell you. I wouldn’t have told you this much if I hadn’t betrayed myself already, and if I didn’t owe it to you.

“But there it is,” he said. “I’ve told you my plans, or as much of them as I have. If you want to betray me, I can’t stop you.”

He looked at them and waited. At last Savn said, “I don’t know what to do.”

“I think we should go home,” said Polyi.

“Then what?” said Savn.

“I don’t know.”

Savn looked at the Easterner, who was watching them carefully, his expression blank. “She’s right,” said Savn. “We really should go home.”

“Yes,” said Vlad. “I’ll be all right here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. And, whatever happens, no one is going to be able to take me by surprise.”

Savn glanced at the jhereg and nodded.

Vlad settled back against the wall of the cave and closed his eyes. “I believe I will sleep now. Will you help me to lie down?”

When they were done eating, they gave the bones to the jhereg, who seemed well pleased with them. Savn wanted to say goodbye to Vlad, but the Easterner was sound asleep. He and Polyi left the cave together, blinking in the bright afternoon sun. They started for home.

Chapter Thirteen

I will not marry a handsome soldier,

I will not marry a handsome soldier.

He would not want me when I’m older.

Hi-dee hi-dee ho-la!

Step on out ...

By—unspoken agreement they took the long way, not passing through town; as a result they didn’t see anyone. Savn wondered if there were still parties out looking for Vlad, and if Mae and Pae had joined them. Thinking of Mae and Pae filled him with a vague unease over and above his fear of whatever punishment they’d inflict on him for staying out all night. He thought about it, trying to figure out why, and eventually remembered how oddly they’d acted the night Vlad had come to their home, at which point Savn realized that he wasn’t afraid of what Mae and Pae would say; he was afraid of what they wouldn’t say.

It was as bad as Savn had feared, or worse. Mae looked up, nodded at them, and went back to stripping seeds. Pae, who was counting sacks, just gave them a brief smile and said, “Savn, isn’t it time for you to be at Master Wag’s?”

“Yes, Pae,” said Savn, trying to keep his voice from trembling.

“Well, be on your way, then.”

Savn watched Polyi, who was obviously trying to conceal how upset she was. She said, “Don’t you want to know where we’ve been?”

“Well,” said Mae, straightening up and stretching her back, “you’re here, aren’t you? You’ve been fine, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but—”

Savn caught her eye and she fell silent.

“We’ll be going, then,” said Savn.

Mae and Pae nodded abstractedly and returned to their work. Savn and Polyi didn’t speak until they reached the house, where Savn gallantly offered to let Polyi bathe first.

She ignored his offer and said, “What’s wrong with them?”

“With who?”

“Cut it out,” said Polyi. “You know what I mean.”

Savn started to protest, then gave up and said, “I don’t know. I think—No, I don’t know.”

“What do you think?”

“Never mind.”

“Is it something Vlad did to them?”

Savn looked away and repeated, “I don’t know.”

“Maybe he—”

“I don’t know.”

“AH right,” she said, pouting. “Don’t yell at me.”

“Do you want to bathe first, or should I?”

“I don’t care. Go ahead. No, I will.”

“Let me, I have to get to Master Wag’s.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“I don’t know. I’ll hurry.”

Savn bathed quickly, and leaving the house, cut across the fields away from the counting bin so he wouldn’t have to face Mae and Pae again. He also skirted the town, although he was frightfully curious about whether they were still searching for Vlad.

When he arrived at Master Wag’s, he was greeted with the words, “I didn’t expect you to be here today. How’s our patient?”

“He was well when I left him, about five hours ago.”

“Had he eaten?”

“Yes.”

“No fever?”

“None.”

“Still weak?”

“Very.”

“Did he empty his bowels?”

“No. Liquid only.”

“Hmmm. Not good, but not yet bad, either.”

“Are they still looking for him?”

The Master nodded. “Not with any great intensity, perhaps, but Speaker insisted that they keep searching the area until they were certain he had left.”

“That sounds like they think he did.”

“Speaker probably does, but that doesn’t much matter. They’ll keep looking, I’m afraid, and eventually they’ll find the caves.”

“It may take a long time.”

“Oh, yes. It would take days to just search the caves—they’re immense, convoluted, and lead all the way back into the cliff. But still—”

“Yes. I hope they don’t get to them soon.”

“In any case, Savn, the Easterner shouldn’t be alone for very long. He could relapse at any time.”

“All right,” said Savn. “I’ll return at once.”

“No, as long as you’re here, you may as well relax for a while. We can discuss that procedure you performed. I want to show you just what you did, and why it worked, so you can be more certain next time.”

Which is what they did for the next hour; the Master explained the problem and the cure, while Savn listened more intently than he ever had before. It was different, he realized, when you knew exactly why you were doing something, when you’d actually seen someone with the injury and were learning how to save him. After that, the conversation drifted onto other matters of the healing arts, and even here Savn noticed a difference in the Master’s attitude: he was less brusque and somehow more respectful of Savn—as if by saving the Easterner, Savn had proven himself to Master Wag.

At one point, the Master stopped in the middle of explaining the sort of thoughts that must be kept out of the head of a person in danger of fever, and said, “What is bothering you, Savn? You seem disturbed about something.”

“I’m not certain, Master.”

The Master looked at him closely. “Is it,” he said, “that you aren’t certain you should have saved the Easterner? Because, if that is the trouble, it shouldn’t bother you. Saving lives is our trade—all lives. Even, sometimes, that of livestock. Yes, if it is a choice between saving the life of a human being and saving the life of an Easterner, that is one thing. But in this case, you found someone who was injured and you cured him. It is no betrayal of His Lordship for you to perform your calling.”

“It isn’t that, Master. I think it’s Mae and Pae.”

“What about them?”

“Well, they’ve been acting funny, that’s all.”

“Funny? What do you mean?”

“Well, they seem distracted, like they’re far away.”

“Explain what you mean, Savn. Be precise.”

“It’s hard to, Master. It’s a feeling I have. But when Polyi and I were out all night, they didn’t say a word to us about it.”

“You’re growing up, Savn. They recognize this, and feel you can be trusted more. That’s all it is.”

Savn shook his head. “I’m afraid Vlad put a spell on them.”

The Master cocked his head. “A spell? What sort of spell, and why would he do something like that?”

“A witchcraft spell.”

“Witchcraft!” said the Master. “Nonsense. If you believe all of the rubbish that—

Hullo, is someone there?”

There did, indeed, seem to be someone clapping at the door. Savn got up and opened it, and was startled to find himself looking up at Fird, the fruit-seller from Bigcliff.

Savn stared, open-mouthed, his thoughts racing. For one thing, he had forgotten how tall Fird was. For another, Vlad had been asking about him just the other day, and ... Savn realized he was being rude. He closed his mouth, opened it again, and said, “May I be of some service to you?”

“I be here looking,” said Fird, in his low, careful voice, and with the odd grammatical formulations of Bigcliff, “for Master Wag.”

“Who is it?” called the Master from inside.

“Please come in,” said Savn, stepping out of Fird’s way.

“My thanks to you for that,” said Fird, ducking his head as he passed under the Master’s doorway. Over his shoulder was a large sack, which Savn assumed contained the fruit he’d been selling.

The Master rose as he entered, and said, “What seems to be the matter, goodman?”

“A note is sent me to you, by for this Eastern devil. You know him?”

“Eastern devil?” said Master Wag and Savn with one voice. The Master gave Savn a look, then continued. “Do you mean the Easterner, Vlad?”

“The same as him, yes,” said Fird.

“I know him. He sent you a note?”

“That were, or the mountains grew him.”

Savn had to stop and figure this one out, but Master Wag said, “May I see it?”

“To you be done, then,” said Fird, and handed a small piece of pale, almost white parchment to the Master. The Master, in turn, frowned, read it several times, and, with a look that asked permission of Fird, handed it to Savn. At first, Savn mentally tsked at the Easterner’s penmanship; then he wondered how Vlad had written it. It had probably been done in wood-ash using a dagger’s point. It read: “Sorry I missed you I’ve been hurt ask Master Wag to bring you to me I’ll pay gold.”

Savn handed it back to Fird, while the Master asked, “How do you know him?”

“How? As one will know another. Gold he is offered to me, and then he is not where his promise is. I be curious, I be finding fruit in sack, I be finding note, I be reading, I be coming here. But you he is knowing, and this I be in wonder at.”

“He’s hurt, as he said,” said the Master. “I helped him.”

“So?” said Fird, shrugging. “He is hurt. I have mangoes and apples, which will cure like a physicker.”

“Maybe,” said the Master, sounding doubtful.

“Apples. Apple’s the thing. Where with to—”

“Savn here will lead you to him.”

“Master—”

“You think it’s a trick?”

“Well—”

“If His Lordship, or Speaker, or anyone else knows enough to attempt this sort of trick, it doesn’t much matter if we fall for it.”

“Not to us, but—”

“Think about it, Savn. Think about how much they would have to know.”

“Trick?” said Fird. “Is what this—”

“The Easterner,” said Master Wag, “is hurt because some people tried to kill him. Savn is concerned that—”

“Ah. Well, is to careful, then, but I—”

“Yes, I know,” said the Master. “Savn?”

“All right. Should we go now?” Both Fird and Master Wag nodded.

“I may join you later, to check on our patient, or else I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Very well, Master,” said Savn, and led the way out the door and down the road toward the Curving Stone.

He was saved from the necessity of deciphering Fird’s speech by the fact that Fird didn’t seem inclined to make conversation, and Savn, for his part, didn’t know what to say. Just past the Curving Stone he led the way into the woods, through them, and out over Bigcliff. Fird looked down with interest at the beach where, though he probably didn’t know it, Savn had first pointed him out to Vlad. Savn still wondered what the Easterner wanted with the fruit-seller. As they approached the cave, Fird stopped, sniffed the air, and said his first words since they set out: “Norska is been roasted.”

Savn smelled it too, and repressed a chuckle. So much for the smell not getting out. “This way,” he said, and led Fird into the cave. “Can you make a light?”

Fird grunted, and a soft red glow filled the cavern. They went through the first, large chamber, and Savn led the way unerringly into the correct passage, and another large chamber. Here, even though Savn half expected it, he was startled by the flapping of wings as the jhereg appeared before him. Fird jumped, and his sorcerous light wavered for a moment as Savn said, “It’s all right, they won’t hurt us.” Fird didn’t appear convinced, but watched the jhereg closely and kept a short knife in his hand.

The jhereg flew around the opening for a moment, then disappeared.

“Is Easterner magic to tame carrion-eaters?” asked Fird.

“I guess,” said Savn.

Fird’s mouth twitched. “Then is onward.”

They continued, Fird ducking to traverse corridors that Savn was able to walk through upright, until they saw the flickering glow of the torches. Savn called out, “Vlad? It’s Savn. Fird, the fruit-seller, is with me.”

There was a rustling sound ahead, and in the dim light Savn was able to make out Vlad turning his head. “Good,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

“How are you feeling?”

“Weak. But a little better, I think.”

“Great.”

“Sorry I missed our appointment, Fird. Glad you got the note.”

Fird was watching Vlad carefully. He said, “Note is arrived, but the wondering is from its means of travel.”

“Does it matter?”

“Magic is that of the Easterner, is to wonder what else you is to have done or will do?”

“For one thing,” said Vlad. “Give you a certain amount of gold, in exchange for answering some questions. Have you been to—” He paused and looked at Savn.

“Would you like me to leave?”

“Please,” said Vlad. “I’m sorry, but I’d rather this not be overheard.”

Savn shrugged his shoulders as if he didn’t care, and, taking one of the burning torches, wandered back out of the cave. To his surprise, the larger of the jhereg accompanied him. He was even more surprised to realize that this no longer bothered him. Finding a comfortable-looking spot beneath a tree just outside the cave, he put out the torch and settled down with his back against the trunk. The jhereg perched on a low branch of the same tree.

Savn looked up at it, and it looked back, as if waiting for Savn to start the conversation. “I would like to know,” said Savn obligingly, “what they’re talking about in there.”