Dangerous Waters (54 page)

‘I will sit with her while you fetch bread and wine, any fruit or cheese, whatever the kitchen can muster. The lady wizard needs breakfast.’

‘Can she save us?’ Tears stood in Raselle’s eyes.

‘I believe so.’ Zurenne spoke with all the conviction she could muster. ‘Hurry, please!’

As Raselle fled down the stairs, Zurenne locked the door to the roof ladder. If Jilseth needed to get down, she couldn’t see that hampering her.

‘Neeny?’ She went quickly to the girl’s bedchamber, uneasy. This silence was out of character. Zurenne would have expected to see her little daughter’s curious face peering around the door as soon as she heard voices.

Esnina was in the window seat, hugging her knees with her bare feet drawn up under the hem of her nightgown. She didn’t stir, simply looking at Zurenne with mute appeal.

‘Sweetheart, it will be alright.’ Zurenne rushed to wrap her arms around the trembling child. She tried to find some further reassurance. She couldn’t, mortally afraid that whatever she said would be proven a lie.

Halferan had always insisted that he wouldn’t lie to their children. If it was ever necessary to keep something from them, even to deceive them, he would rather keep silent and leave them guessing, even if that distressed them, rather than tell an outright falsehood.

Zurenne could only honour his memory with silence.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY-
F
OUR

The Great Forest

10th of Aft-Summer (Caladhrian Parliamentary Almanac)

12th of Lekinar (Soluran calendar)

C
ORRAIN WOKE WITH
a start. Rubbing a hand over his face, bristles rasped beneath his grimy palm. Unwashed and stale-mouthed, he longed to go back to sleep. He was constantly fighting to stay awake now. These woods were shady by day and mild at night, tempting him everywhere with drifts of dry leaves softening sheltered, peaceful hollows.

No. He forced his eyes open again. The pale sky above meant that the sun was already rising. He must be up on his feet and more than that, he must be as alert as he ever had been, if he wanted to stay on that Mandarkin mage’s trail. If he wanted to stay clear of the Soluran wizards and their cursed men-at-arms so diligently quartering these woods.

The Solurans themselves had only settled down for some respite in the very dead of night. Corrain had watched the three wizards huddle together, doubtless conniving at some magecraft. Their men-at-arms had shared the tasks of keeping watch and cooking simple food over a small, swiftly dug fire pit before wrapping themselves in their cloaks to sleep or stand sentry, turn by turn.

Corrain had withdrawn to prop himself between two young trees fighting to claim the same patch of open sky. He had only managed a broken doze, stirring at every night-time noise in the woods. Was some Soluran seeking a nook for a piss about to stumble across him? Or was the entire contingent rousing at a wizard’s command?

Knuckling his eyes hard enough to leave them stinging, he stood up as quietly as he could. A mouthful of water from the leather bottle at his hip was tepid and unrefreshing. His throat ached with fear as much as hunger. He could only hope that the Solurans were still camped in that glade. And that he hadn’t misjudged how far away he needed to go, to balance the perils of being discovered against the risks of being left behind.

Something rustled above his head. He peered suspiciously upwards. Was Deor hunting him? Corrain hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the Forest man over these past two days but he wouldn’t wager a copper cut-piece on that evidence alone.

He only hoped that the Mandarkin mage was more valuable prey, especially if the Solurans were paying for Deor’s woodcraft with the location of those cached stores. Corrain guessed that the sneaking redhead would value food ready for the taking above coin which his people would have to travel to spend on provisions. Or perhaps he’d found Corrain’s horse and was already leagues away. That would be an unlooked-for stroke of luck.

He’d been forced to let the beast go, sparing a swift prayer to Talagrin that it wouldn’t fall foul of some undeserved fate. Sneaking stealthily through the woods with the creature snuffling behind him was too ludicrous to contemplate. So he’d stripped off the gear that could snag on some branch and be the death of the hapless animal, slapped its rump and sent it on its way. If Talagrin were truly listening, maybe its hoof prints would persuade the searching Solurans that they were rid of him as well as Kusint.

Who would be here watching his back if only the fool had seen sense. Corrain’s spark of anger faded as fast as it kindled. He’d misjudged the boy and that was that. He should have remembered that he only ever had himself to rely on. He was doing well enough so far. He’d kept pace with the hunters even if he’d yet to catch sight of the quarry they were both pursuing.

In this grey morning light, that was comfort as cold and unrewarding as the stringy dried meat in his saddlebag. Corrain grabbed a handful of strips and stifled a groan as he shouldered the heavy coin. Snatching mouthfuls of food here and there had done little to lighten his burden.

He chewed on beef strips pungent with herbs as he began walking warily through the woods. He searched out the waymarks he’d noted in the benevolent moonlight last night. A splintered snag there, a sapling strangled by honeysuckle on the far side of this deer track. He had to find those Solurans again, ideally before they broke camp or soon enough after to follow a clear trail. Just as long as they didn’t catch sight of him first.

If they did, he didn’t dare risk capture and have Deor’s kinsman find his current plan among his thoughts. He would have to drop the money and run. Of course, that would leave him with nothing to induce the Mandarkin mage to help him, even if he managed to find the man. Corrain’s shoulders sagged, and not merely from the encumbrance of the saddlebags.

What fool’s errand was he pursuing? But what choice did he have? Beyond taking the money for his own and making a new life far away from Caladhria. Yes, he could do that. Until guilt drove him to cut his own throat.

Movement in the trees drove such treacherous thoughts clean out of his head. Corrain crouched low to avoid anyone’s gaze scanning the woodland at man height. He glimpsed movement again, this time catching a glimpse of russet.

The youngest of the Soluran wizards had worn a cloak the colour of autumn leaves. Espilan, the wizard who’d been sent on ahead with a bare handful of guards to tempt the Mandarkin mage into murder. The Solurans surely couldn’t think the Mandarkin was fool enough to fall for the same trick a second time?

There was no sign of the young wizard’s escort. Corrain couldn’t hear the most furtive footfall. More importantly, the woodland birds were singing their dawn songs without a care in the world.

If the Soluran wizard was out here alone, where could he be going? As Corrain rose to follow, the dead weight of the saddlebags nearly made his knees buckle. After swift, agonised deliberation, he dumped them in a hollow stump. He could come back to retrieve them later, when he had a better idea of what was afoot. Or he’d be dead and it wouldn’t matter.

He slid his sword noiselessly from its sheath and crept through the trees. His eyes shifted constantly, watchful for any shimmer of Soluran hauberks amid the greenery, while striving to keep track of that russet cloak.

Now the Soluran wizard was slowing. Corrain fought an impulse to do the same. Caution was all very well but he had to see what the wizard was up to. Without the wizard seeing him.

He dropped low a second time as he saw Espilan staring straight in his direction. He breathed a little easier when Espilan’s gaze slid downwards. The young wizard was looking into his cupped hands, where the merest shimmer of azure coloured the pallid dawn gloom.

This was interesting. From the shadow where he lurked, Corrain watched the Soluran through the lattice of twigs. Espilan’s jaw was set, his eyes narrowed with determination. Corrain had seen that expression often enough in the guard barracks to recognise a young man out to prove himself.

He had set off without the rest of them, seeking the Mandarkin with his own magecraft. He was out to show that arrogant woman and the old man exactly what he was capable of.

Espilan looked away to the north. He headed off so quietly he must surely have muffled his boots with magic. Corrain followed as carefully as he could. He could only trust the faint breezes to cover any unavoidable noise.

Espilan went on, slowly, carefully, his direction unwavering. The sun rose higher, warming the day. Corrain soon emptied his leather water bottle and began keeping an eye open for a stream fit to drink from.

As they drew further and further away from that stump where he’d left the coin, he grew increasingly uneasy. There was no sign of the other Solurans. Perhaps the woman wizard and the old man mage were already on the Mandarkin’s scent. They could catch him and Corrain wouldn’t even know. Perhaps he should backtrack before he lost his waymarks entirely in this accursed impenetrable forest.

Blue light seared his vision. Birds burst from the bushes and trees. Corrain dropped to the ground, barely restraining his curses.

Hearing delighted laughter amid the frantic squawking putting more fowl to flight, he scrambled forward as fast as he could. The chaos subsided inconveniently soon. Corrain slowed to a snail’s pace, wary of any brush of a leaf or crack of a twig beneath his hand or knee.

Espilan was intent on something on the forest floor. Flat on his belly and peering through the undergrowth, Corrain saw a writhing shadow caught amid coils of coruscating light. The struggling shape became clearer. Not because Espilan’s magic was fading but rather the figure was growing more solid, more tangible.

Corrain recognised the Mandarkin now that whatever magecraft had rendered him invisible or insubstantial had been so violently stripped away.

The Soluran stooped over the captive wizard. His words might be unintelligible but his triumph was as plain as the daylight. Until Corrain’s sword pommel hit the back of his head to send him sprawling unconscious into the leaf litter, the sapphire magelight snuffed.

Corrain wrenched at the reins coiled around his waist. He hadn’t abandoned that horse without taking anything he might find a use for. Before the Soluran regained his senses, he must have him securely bound. These were not Hadrumal’s wizards. He’d seen them kill without compunction.

He gagged the slack-limbed wizard with a sticky rag that had held rounds of dried apple. Once he had the reins buckled tight around Espilan’s wrists and ankles, hands behind the wizard’s back, he knotted the free ends together around a conveniently solid tree. The bleary-eyed Soluran was beginning to stir.

Corrain stepped back. ‘Remember, I could have hit you hard enough to kill.’

He spoke slowly in formal Tormalin. For good measure, he turned his sword to show Espilan the heavy pommel before resting the blade on the wizard’s shoulder, the edge pressing lightly against his neck.

‘I don’t wish to make an enemy of any Soluran,’ Corrain told him. ‘But I need a wizard to fight the corsairs. If you and your own won’t help me, I must find a mage who can.’

Espilan’s eyes blazed with contempt. Contempt and something else?

Where was the Mandarkin mage? Corrain looked back at the ground where Espilan’s captive had lain only to see scuffed leaf mould. Before Corrain could wonder where the fugitive had gone, his feet were pulled out from under him.

He fell heavily. He would have thrust out a hand but his arms were pinioned to his sides. A searing coil of green steam dragged him along the ground, wrapping around him from head to toe and dazzling him to blindness. Corrain fought, bucking and twisting, to no avail. All that won him was deep gouges to his chin and forehead from stray twigs.

Another flash of emerald light hauled him upwards to slam against a tree trunk. Realising that his eyes hadn’t been scalded into empty sockets was paltry relief. Corrain found a web of cold mossy tendrils swathed him, binding him to the tree. He was far more securely restrained than Espilan on the far side of this ragged glade.