Fantastical Ramblings (8 page)

“What’s going on?” Katya asked, brushing dirt and spiny
plant debris from her wide trousers that gathered at the ankle and hid numerous
pockets and compartments. All she managed was to grind more of the grit into
the fabric.

“The well has been poisoned,” Cannik said. He too rose and
tried his best to clean himself.

“Poison? What kind of poison?” Katya knew a lot about
poisons, normal and magical.

“I’m not sure,” Carrik said, shaking his head. “There were
no dead bodies in the water. I smelled no sulfur or other noxious things. The
runes on the rocks beside the well said the water was sweet. But my two camels
took a long drink, rolled up their eyes and were dead before they finished
swallowing.”

“It sounds like magic,” Katya whispered. and she thought she
knew which spell. A nasty one that took a lot of energy and many ingredients to
create. An ordinary spell-caster would need days to recover afterward.

“We have no maji in the caravan,” Cannik protested.

“Are there residents of the oasis?” Katya began rummaging in
her bags; prepared for most emergencies on the road.

“A few,” Cannik said. His eyes half-closed indicating he was
deep in thought.

“Enough for a mage to hide among them?” She whirled to face
him and drag the information out of him if necessary.

“I shall look.”

“Look hard, under every rock,” Katya spat. “Whoever did it
will be drained, likely too tired even to stand.” Her hands shook as she
fumbled the knot on the silk leash to Sha’awna.

“What are you doing?” the lady asked. An edge of panic
touched her voice. “You aren’t going to leave me!”

“I must, Lady. I must negate the spell. None of us or our
animals will make it to the next oasis without water tonight. The sun is
already down. We can go no further tonight. I have to do what I can to save the
water.”

“Wh...what am I to do?”

“I will ask the silk merchant...”

“No. He cannot protect me.” She gathered her courage around
her like a cloak. “Kat, I will go with you. Tell me the shape and size of your
bundles and vials. I can identify them by touch and pass them to you.”

Katya paused only a moment. “Very well, lady.” She tied the
cord around her wrist again.

“My name is Sha’awna.”

“And mine is Katya. You just made a choice, my... Sha’awna. Two
of them actually. You are not completely devoid of options.”

Lady Sha’awna nodded. “I will have one chance, one choice to
regain control of my life. The time will come and I know what I will choose. But
the time and place are not right tonight.” She firmed her chin.

Katya said nothing, merely tugged lightly on the leash and
walked toward the well. The blue bead in her hair began to vibrate. The closer
she came, the more violent its dance against her temple. “About time, you woke
up,” she muttered.

The sight of the camels sprawled in their ungainly death
made her stiffen. She recognized the green foam around their mouths, the same
tinge to their rolled up eyes, and the awkward position of their knees caught
in violent death spasms.

Ugly deaths, not fitting to offer to the goddess Shi’in. Though
she would use them if necessary, Katya did not like poisons.

If one offered death to another, the most intimate action
one could perform, more intimate than any act of love or sex, then it needed to
be done face to face. She preferred to see the light fade from her target’s
eyes and then briefly flare as they caught sight of the terrible beauty of what
lay on the other side of this life.

This poison gave the wielder distance both from his target
and responsibility for the deaths.

“Amateurs,” she snarled. “Kill the entire caravan for one
person, most likely.”

“Untrained, or desperate?” Sha’awna asked in that uncanny
way of hers.

“Both,” Katya agreed. “But who is their primary target?”

“The entire caravan. We carry some valuable silk, spices,
and wine,” Cannik offered, returning from his errand. He shook his head
indicating he’d found no mage.

Silk, spice, and wine.
Not worth the cost of the spell to either the crafter or the caster
.

“If our cargo is the assassin’s target, then why kill the
camels when they will be needed to carry it off? This is the pool for beasts. Is
the well for people also poisoned?”

“I assumed so.” Cannik ran off to make sure. He returned
moments later with the assurance that the human well was untainted, if a bit heavy
with ground minerals.

Without another word, Katya set about negating the magically
charged poison. She and Sha’awna laid out each of the potions and talismans
needed, in order of use. Katya took a deep breath to center her concentration. For
the next hour she focused all of her will into turning the water sweet again.

When she finished, her hands shook with the waves of energy
and power that had passed through her. When she tried to stand, shock waves of
pain and weakness shot from her knees to her head.

Cannik caught her before she fell. “I’ve seen to your tent. You
and Lady Sha’awna may retire there in peace. Rest well for you will need your
strength tomorrow. By noon we will reach the river, thanks to you. We must
reach the ford before sunset to find safe campground.”

“The ford?” Katya looked up to read the tightness of his
mouth and the deep lines around his eyes that said a lot more than his words. “Outlaws
will hit us there. Not from the heights. That is why they poisoned the well, to
slow us down, make us more awkward crossing the river.” The blue bead tingled a
bit in agreement.

“I’ll make sure they don’t,” Cannik reassured her.

The caravan trudged warily along the south riverbank,
skirting tall hills that rose steeply and sharply above the narrow trail. Everyone
kept a wary eye on the ridges above, seeking any sign of movement or odd shadow
that might give them a bit of warning of ambush.

Cannik scattered his men the full length of the twisting
line of travelers. They all wore their weapons openly, revealing swords, bows
with full quivers, short knives, daggers, throwing stars, whips, and bolos. A
few of the merchants carried spears and wore leather armor and helms. Katya
made Sha’awna walk with the tall camels between them and the hills. She kept her
charge close, guiding her with a touch to her elbow over the tricky footing.

“My men dispatched a dozen raiders. Another dozen fled,”
Cannik whispered as he passed Katya. I don’t know if they will return for
vengeance or flee in fright.”

At last the wind ceased tearing at them becoming more a sigh
than a scream, the path broadened into a road, the hills shrank, the river
spread out and grew less frantic and deep. An eerie quiet descended among the
caravan.

Then Katya spied the causeway that should give them safe
footing across the water.

The river poured through a wide gash in the dressed stones. Spray
and trickles dampened the rest of the path, making footing slippery and
treacherous. The break looked natural, a few stones pushed out of the way after
a recent storm, not the work of raiders.

“Ropes! We need every rope you have,” Cannik called from the
head of the line.

Katya tiredly dug out a thick coil from her packs. “You came
prepared,” Cannik said as he traveled the line collecting all that he could.

“I’m always prepared.” Katya touched the blue bead. It
remained calm. If danger lurked it was not imminent. She hoped that perhaps the
outlaws did not plan to attack them as they crossed.

Slowly, carefully, they sent strong swimmers across with
ropes tied to their waists. Within a short time they had crude guidelines
strung the full width of the river. The gap was not so wide after all. The long
legged camels crossed it with a single step. When Katya’s and Sha’awna’s turn
came, Cannik made sure they were firmly lashed together and to him. He carried
the blind girl across the gap while Katya anchored him. Then he stood fast,
letting her borrow his strength until she too stood on firmer ground.

“Is it here?” Sha’awna whispered the moment they set foot on
dry land.

“Is what here?” Katya asked, more snappish than polite.

“Home. My sanctuary. My choice,” Sha’awna replied just as
sharply.

Katya looked around. Mostly she saw people setting up camp
or crossing the river. The blue bead caressed her face. No warning of danger,
more a thrill of completion. She looked closer at the lush landscape that
graced this side of the river. A quarter league away, well above the flood line
but close enough to utilize the river, a dense copse blocked sight of what lay
within its shadows. Then a chance shift of light as the sun drifted toward the
horizon caught a glint off polished granite.

A rare stone in these parts. A heavy stone to drag from the
hills. Something manmade and important must reside there. Katya’s heart seemed
to swell with a sense of familiar welcome. She needed to go there. She needed
to be there. Now.

She took Sha’awna’s hand. Together they began to circle the
copse deosil, the way of the sun. Before long, on the western side, Katya spied
a path, not much more than a game trail, but clear of major obstacles.

Whatever lay within tugged at her, urging her to push her
tired feet faster.

“It’s here. I can smell it. I
feel
the awesome presence,” Sha’awna insisted, pressing close to
Katya, urging her to move faster yet.

“What is it?” Katya asked. The slanted light from the dying
sun showed a clear spot just ahead. Blood shone in that light. Dark and
foreboding. And yet it also held the promise of the warmth of a cheery fire
contained within a hearth.

Sha’awna rushed past Katya, dragging her by the silken
leash. She cast off her hat and veil just before stumbling on the first of the
granite steps leading to the open square. Katya helped her to stand, all the
while surveying their surroundings. The blue bead remained dormant. No overt
threat. But Katya had not survived in a dangerous world and a more dangerous
career by relying on talismans and spells. She trusted her eyes, her ears, and
her gut instinct.

Tiny vines and grasses poked through the minute seams in the
paving of the large square, open now, once enclosed by walls and pillars. The
surrounding jungle of scrub trees and groundcover needed time to encroach as
far as it had. At lot of time, many seasons of rains and seeds to wear space in
those cracks. Something wild and strong had scattered the pillars and walls
outside the square. Surrounding buildings, much smaller, lacked roofs and
doors. Gaps in the stone walls where windows once lighted the interiors were
now un-shuttered and un-glazed.

And then she spotted the scorch marks. Fire had reigned here
once. Fire and destruction. She knew the patterns, had seen them before in
another temple, another place and time. But these patterns began and died out
in different sections. Only the attempt to break the altar remained the same.

“What is this place?” Katya whispered. “What god was
worshipped here?” It all felt familiar with just enough difference that she
knew this place was not home. Yet she was welcome.

“
Was
?” Sha’awna
gasped. “Where are the chanting priests and priestesses? I smell no incense or
candles. I hear no hymns of praise. What happened?” Her last question rose on a
frightened squeal.

“There is no one here, now. The place was burned out and
abandoned long ago.”

“Lost. I am lost. Totally, irrevocably lost.” Sha’awna dropped
to her knees, all traces of her natural grace gone. She slumped, clutching her
stomach. Tears streaked her face. “My only choices have been stolen. I have
nothing left. I am nothing.” She collapsed prostrate on the ground, long
fingers scrabbling at the worn granite.

A rush of noise rose behind them. “My lady, my love, where
are you? Do not hide from me, your prince!”

Sha’awna groaned. “Lost. I am lost.”

“My lady.” Katya dropped to her knees cradling her sobbing
friend. “Dry your tears, my lady. Your journey is almost done. Your prince has
ridden out to meet you.”

“My prince,” Sha’awna spat. “My owner. I am as much a slave
as ever. Money exchanged hands; none of it came to me. Contracts signed, none
by me. None of it my choice. I am not even to have the honor of becoming a
wife. Merely a consort.”

“Even so, my lady. My friend. As consort you will have
rights and privileges, far beyond what was granted you as a courtesan.”

“Neither the man nor the place of my enslavement were my
choice.” Her voice became angry.

The voices grew closer, along with the sounds of heavy feet
thrashing through the undergrowth.

“Here I had hoped to find sanctuary with my goddess. But
that too has been stolen from me.” Slowly, almost painfully Sha’awna pushed
herself to sit.

“Which goddess do you worship?” Katya asked urgently. “This
place feels so familiar, I am so comfortable here, this almost might be the
last resting place of—” She broke off, unwilling to say the name aloud. “Who do
you follow, Sha’awna?”

“I...” Sha’awna drew herself straighter and stared blankly
in the direction of the crowd approaching them.

A short man with big hands and feet, dressed in dark blue
robes, swooped down upon them. He gathered Sha’awna into his arms and showered
kisses over her sunburned face, smoothing her grimy hair.

Katya pointedly released the silken cord from her wrist and
handed it to Sha’awna.

“Here, here is the rest of your bounty for bringing my one
true love to me,” the prince said, fumbling at his waist for a heavy purse. He
thrust it into Katya’s hands without looking at her. “Come, my sweet. We will
rest here tonight and return to my city on the morrow.” He continued to cover
her face with kisses as he rose, bringing her into his arms to carry her back
to camp.

A bubble of something like pride, or maybe the end of a
friendship, burst inside Katya.