Bradley, Marion Zimmer - SSC 03 (33 page)

 
          
His
heart still pumping blood around the blade, his hands fumbling at her hands,
trying to push them away from his chest, he fell to his knees, shuddered,
toppled over, convulsed, and died.

 
          
Wess
jerked her knife from his body. Once more she heard the shrieks of frightened
horses and the curses of furious men, and the howl of a half-starved wolf cub.

 
          
The
tent shimmered with wizard-light.

 
          
/
wish
it were torches,
Wess screamed in
her mind.
Torches would burn you, and burning is what you deserve.

 
          
But
there was no fire, and nothing burned. Even the wizard-light was fading.

 
          
Wess
looked into the sky. She raked her sleeve across her eyes to wipe away her
tears.

 
          
The
two flyers soared toward the moon, free.

 
          
And
now
—

 
          
Quartz
and Chan were nowhere in sight. She could find only terrified strangers:
performers in spangles, Sanctuary people fighting each other, and more guards
coming to the rescue of their lord. The salamander lumbered by, hissing in
fear.

 
          
Horses
clattered toward her and she spun, afraid of being run down. Aristarchus
brought them to a halt and flung her the second horse's reins. It was the
skewbald stallion from Satan's cart, the one with the wild blue eye. It smelled
the blood on her and snorted and reared. Somehow she kept hold of the reins.
The horse reared again and jerked her off her feet. Bones ground together in
her side and she gasped.

 
          
"Mount!"
Aristarchus cried. "You can't control him from the ground!"

 
          
"I
don't know how
—
" She stopped. It hurt
too much to talk.

 
          
"Grab
his mane! Jump! Hold on with your knees."

 
          
She
did as he said, found herself on the horse's back, and nearly fell off his
other side. She clamped her legs around him and he sprang forward. Both the
reins were on one side of his neck
—
Wess
knew that was not right. She pulled on them and he twisted in a circle and
almost threw her again. Aristarchus urged his horse forward and grabbed the
stallion's bridle. The animal stood spraddle-legged, ears flat back, nostrils
flaring, trembling between Wess's legs. She hung onto his mane, terrified. Her
broken ribs hurt so badly she felt faint.

 
          
Aristarchus
leaned forward, blew gently into the stallion's nostrils, and spoke to him so
quietly Wess could not hear the words. Slowly, easily, the troll straightened
out the reins. The animal gradually relaxed, and his ears pricked forward
again.

 
         
"Be
easy on his mouth, frejojan," the troll said to Wess. "He's a good
creature, just frightened."

 
          
"I
have to find my friends," Wess said.

 
          
"Where
are you to meet them?"

 
          
Aristarchus's
calm voice helped her regain her composure.

 
          
"Over
there." She pointed to a shadowed recess beyond the tent. Aristarchus
started for it, still holding her horse's bridle. The animals stepped
delicately over broken equipment and abandoned clothing.

 
         
Quartz
and Chan ran from the shadowed side of the tent. Quartz was laughing. Through
the chaos she saw Wess, tagged Chan on the shoulder to get his attention, and
changed direction to hurry toward Wess.

 
          
"Did
you see them fly?" Quartz cried. "They outflew eagles!"

 
          
"As
long as they outflew arrows," Aristarchus said dryly. "Hurry, you,
the big one, up behind me, and you," he said to Chan, "behind
Wess."
^J
- They did as he ordered. Quartz kicked the horse and
he sprang forward, but Aristarchus reined him in.

 
          
"Slowly,
children," the troll said. "Slowly through the dark, and no one will
notice."

 
          
To
Wess's surprise, he was quite correct.

 
          
In
the city they kept the horses at the walk, and Quartz concealed Aristarchus
beneath her cloak. The uproar fell behind them, and no one chased them. Wess
clutched the stallion's mane, still feeling very insecure so high above the
ground.

 
          
A
direct escape from Sanctuary did not lead them past the
Unicorn,
or indeed into the Maze at all, but they decided to risk going back; the risk
of traveling unequipped through the mountains this late in the fall was too great.
They approached the Unicom through back alleys, and saw almost no one.
Apparently the denizens of the Maze were as fond of entertainments as anyone
else in Sanctuary. No doubt the opportunity to watch their prince extricate
himself from a collapsed tent was almost the best entertainment of the evening.
Wess would not have minded watching that herself.

 
          
Leaving
the horses hidden in shadow with Aristarchus, they crept quietly up the stairs
to their room, stuffed belongings in their packs, and started out again

 
          
"Young gentleman and his ladies, good evening."

 
          
Wess
spun around, Quartz right
beside
her gripping her
sword. The tavern-keeper flinched back from them, but quickly recovered
himself
.

           
"Well," he said to Chan,
sneering. "I thought they were one thing, but I see they are your
bodyguards."

 
          
Quartz
grabbed him by the shirt front and lifted him off the floor. Her broadsword
scraped from its scabbard.

 
          
"I
forswore the frenzy when I abandoned war," she said very quietly.
"But you are very nearly enough to make me break my oath." She opened
her hand and he fell to his knees.

 
          
"I
meant no harm, my lady
—
"

 
          
"Do
not call my 'lady'I I am not of noble birth! I was a soldier and I am a woman.
If that cannot deserve your courtesy, then you cannot command my mercy."

 
          
"I
meant no harm, I meant no offense. I beg your pardon ..." He looked up
into her unreadable silver eyes. "I beg your pardon, northern woman."

 
          
There
was no contempt in his voice now, only terror, and^to Wess that was just as
bad. She and Quartz could expect nothing here, except to be despised or feared.
They had no other choices.

 
          
Quartz
sheathed her sword. "Your silver is on the table," she said coldly.
"We had no mind to cheat you."

           
He scrabbled up and away from them,
into the room.

           
Quartz grabbed the key from the
inside, slammed the door, and locked it.

           
"Let's get out of here."

 
          
They
clattered down the stairs. In the street, they tied the packs together and to
the horses' harnesses as best they could. Above, they heard the innkeeper banging
at the door, and when he failed to break it down, he came to the window.

 
          
"Help!"
he cried. "Help, kidnappers!
Brigands!"
Quartz vaulted up behind Aristarchus and Chan clambered up behind Wess.
"Help!" the innkeeper cried.
"Help, fire!
Floods!"

 
          
Aristarchus
gave his horse his head and it sprang forward. Wess's stallion tossed his mane,
blew his breath out hard and loud, and leaped from a standstill into a gallop.
All Wess could do was hold on, clutching the mane and the harness, hunching
over the horse's withers, as he careered down the street.

 
          
They
galloped through the outskirts of Sanctuary, splashed across the river at the
ford, and headed north along the river trail. The horses sweated into
a lather
and Aristarchus insisted on slowing down and
breathing them. Wess saw the sense of that, and, too, she could detect no
pursuit from the city. She scanned the sky, but darkness hid any sign of the
flyers.

 
          
Abandoning
the headlong pace, they walked the horses or let them jog. Each step jarred
Wess's ribs. She tried to concentrate on pushing out the pain, but to do it
well she needed to stop, dismount, and relax. That was impossible right now.
The road and the night led on forever.

 
          
At
dawn, they reached the faint abandoned trail Wess had brought them in on. It
led away from the road, directly up into the mountains.

 
          
The
trees, black beneath the slate-blue sky, closed in overhead. Wess felt as if
she had fought her way out of a nightmare world into a world she knew and
loved. She did not yet feel free, but she could consider the possibility of
feeling free again.

 
          
"Chad?"

 
          
"I'm
here, love."

 
          
She
took his hand, where he held her gingerly around
the ,waist
,
and kissed his palm. She leaned back against him, and he held her.

 
          
A
stream gushed between the gnarled roots of trees, beside the nearly invisible
trail.

 
          
"We
should stop and let the horses rest," Aristarchus said. "And rest, ourselves."

 
          
"There's
a clearing a little way ahead," Wess said. "It has grass. They eat
grass, don't they?"

 
          
Aristarchus
chuckled. 'They do, indeed."

           
When they reached the clearing,
Quartz jumped down, stumbled, groaned, and laughed. "It's a long time
since I rode
horseback
," she said. She helped
Aristarchus off. Chan dismounted and stood testing his legs after the long
ride. Wess sat where she was. She felt as if she were looking at the world
through Lythande's secret sphere.

 
          
The
sound of great wings filled the cold dawn. Satan and Aerie landed in the center
of the clearing and hurried toward them.

 
          
Wess
twined her fingers in the skewbald's stripped mane and slid off his back. She
leaned against his shoulder, exhausted, taking short shallow breaths. She could
hear Chan and Quartz greeting the flyers. But Wess could not move.

 
          
"Wess?"

 
          
She
turned slowly, still holding the horse's mane. Satan smiled down at her. She
was used to flyers being lean, but they were sleek: Satan was gaunt, his ribs
and hips sharp beneath his skin. His short fur was dull and dry, and besides
the scars on his back he had marks on his ankles, and around his throat, where
he had been bound.

 
          
"Oh,
Satan
—
" She embraced him, and
he enfolded her in his wings.

 
          
"It's
done," he said. "It's over." He kissed her gently. Everyone
gathered around him. He brushed the back of his hand softly down the side of
Quartz's face, and bent down to kiss Chad.

 
          
"
Frejdjani. . .
"He looked at them all, then, as a tear
spilled down his cheek, he wrapped himself in his wings and cried.

 
          
They
held him and caressed him until the racking sobs ceased. Ashamed, he scrubbed
away the tears with the palm of his hand. Aristarchus stood nearby, blinking
his large green eyes.