Fool's Errand (32 page)

The Khan prince led them to a nook near the back of the cavern. It was so small that there'd not have been room for them all if Azriel had not suggested that his lovely bride snuggle in between his legs. Though Persephone had been utterly mortified when he'd said these lewd-sounding words in front of
everybody
, she'd not known how to reject his proposed seating arrangement without looking like a cold fish. Now, as she leaned back against his chest with her head resting against his broad shoulder and his strong arms loosely encircling her, she had to admit that she was secretly glad of that fact. The mountain sickness that yet afflicted her and the excitement of the past hours had caught up with her at last. Eager as she was to hear what the Khan prince had to say about the Pool of Genezing, she was also exhausted and in need of the kind of comfort that only Azriel's nearness seemed able to provide.

“So Balthazar
did
speak to you of the healing pool, then?” Persephone asked Barka as she took an infinitesimally small sip of the eye-watering liquid fire that was “something stronger than broth.”

“Speak to me of the healing pool?” snorted Barka as he topped up Tiny's mug for the third time. “I couldn't get him to shut up about it, could I? I tell you, I knew there'd be trouble the minute he showed up at his own funeral babbling on about how the legendary healing pool had sprung up once more and how he alone knew its secret location.” Barka smiled ruefully and shook his head. “He was a wonderful storyteller, your Balthazar—always waving his arms around and rolling his eyes at the good bits—but I must admit I wasn't watching him while he was telling
that
particular story. I was watching our friend the Regent, and I knew by the look in those cold, black eyes of his that he believed every word your idiot tribesman was saying—and that Balthazar's big mouth was going to cost him dearer than he could possibly imagine. Too bad I was too thick-headed to imagine just how dearly it was going to cost me.”

Persephone waited for Barka to continue. When he didn't, she touched his sleeve and gently said, “So … what did he tell you? Balthazar, I mean.”

Starting a little at her touch, Barka cleared his throat as though embarrassed. “The night before the big-headed imbecile was taken up by the old king's guards, Balthazar came to my chamber,” he recounted. “He was even drunker than usual and in high spirits. Over a game of dice in which he lost four gold coins to me—a debt that remains unpaid to this day, incidentally—he blathered on about how, despite us being the greatest of friends and him loving me like a brother, he couldn't
possibly
tell me anything about his wondrous discovery. I told the buffoon that I wasn't the least interested in his stupid discovery and that I'd thank him to keep his ugly gob shut about it. Of course, this put him in a great lather to confide in me. Whispering like a drunkard—which is to say extremely loudly and with a considerable amount of flying spittle—he told me he'd been shipwrecked after a long sea journey and that sometime after making it to shore, he'd been chased into a place of nightmares by a frothing monster.”

“We know that already,” said Fayla, a trifle impatiently.

Barka drank deeply from his horned mug, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said, “Then I suppose you also know
why
Balthazar sailed away from Parthania in the first place?”

“No!” said Persephone quickly. “That is one of the things we
don't
know.”

Barka nodded in a pleased sort of way. “Well, one night when he was very drunk—”

“Sounds to me like Balthazar was
often
very drunk,” observed Tiny in a disapproving voice as he held out his mug for another refill.

“He was,” agreed Barka, chuckling as he poured. “Anyhow, one night when he was very drunk, on a whim he commandeered a ship to take him north to inspect a small estate he'd won off King Malthusius during an all-night game of cards some weeks earlier. If memory serves, the estate was located in the Nicene prefecture. Just north of the Mines of Torodania, I believe, about two days' ride from the coast.”

Azriel—who was not drinking—leaned forward so that his warm chest pressed more firmly against Persephone's back. “So, if the healing pool exists,” he said, unconsciously tightening his arms around her in his excitement, “it is likely on or near the realm's western seaboard, somewhere between Parthania and the northern-most tip ofGlyndoria.”

“That has always been my guess,” said Barka. “But remember, Gypsy, you speak of an area that is many leagues of mostly untamed wilderness. Searching for an itty-bitty pool in all that would be like looking for a runty tick in a mountain of wool. And what do you mean ‘if' the healing pool exists? It
does
exist. Balthazar brought back
proof
that it does.”

“Are you talking about his scars—the ones that some believed bore out his claim that he'd suffered and survived a fatal injury?” said Fayla skeptically.

“No, my prickly little nursemaid, I am not talking about his
scars
,” replied Barka. “Most everyone
I
spoke to assumed that the scars were just a clever trick. No, I am talking about the gift that Balthazar gave to Fey.”

“Who was Fey?” asked Rachel, stifling a yawn that reminded Persephone that her poor friend had not slept in almost two days.

“She was the daughter of the Marinese ambassador,” said Barka. “She later became queen of the old Erok king and mother of the new.”

Stifling another yawn, Rachel leaned over and tapped Persephone on the shoulder. “That means she was your mother, too,” she whispered, just in case her friend had failed to make the connection.

Persephone—whose heart had begun to hammer hard at the mention of the mother she'd never known—nodded.

“Fey was more than just a beauty,” continued Barka in a reminiscent tone. “She was a rare spirit, Fey was. Every man at court was half in love with her, and Balthazar was no exception. That last night we played dice together, he told me that he'd given her a gift. Something he'd brought back from the pool with him—something that proved beyond a doubt that the pool existed.”

“What was it?” asked Persephone, unconsciously clutching Azriel's thigh in
her
excitement.

“I don't know,” said Barka. “Balthazar wouldn't tell me. He said it was a private matter between him and a beautiful girl who wouldn't look twice at me if I was tap dancing naked on top of my own fat head.” The Khan prince chuckled at the memory. “Whatever it was, though, there's a chance that her tribe is in possession of it. Though her father was imprisoned at the same time I was and perished soon thereafter, Fey herself was never imprisoned. In fact, the Regent told me she made it all the way back to the Marinese village of Syon only to have her spineless tribesmen order her to return to Parthania and marry the old king,” he said in disgust. “The Marinese Elders had promised her to him, you see, in exchange for
his
promise that their miserable tribe would be left in peace.”

“A promise that wasn't kept,” observed Azriel.

“No,” agreed Barka shortly. “The Regent used to laugh about the gullibility of the Marinese when he was playing his little games with me. Anyhow, the point is that Fey may have taken Balthazar's gift with her when she returned to her tribe and that they may yet have it.”

Persephone frowned. “Even assuming they do have it and are willing to show it to us, finding proof that the pool exists won't necessarily get us any closer to finding the pool
itself
,” she observed. Cocking her head at Barka, she said, “Do you think it's possible that Balthazar gave Fey … I mean, my mother … more than the gift? Do you think he might have given her a clue as to where the pool was located?”

“Seeing as how we're talking about Balthazar and a beautiful woman, I'd have to say that anything is possible,” snorted Barka, draining his mug.

“Then I think it makes sense for us to stick with the original plan and approach the Marinese next,” decided Persephone, whose gaze drifted to Tiny before she delicately added, “only.”

“Only you'll have to do so without the benefit of my company,” acknowledged Tiny gruffly.

“And without the benefit of mine,” added Fayla as she tenderly brushed a lock of fiery hair off his forehead.

“Now, Fayla—” began the big Gypsy.

“I'm not leaving you!” she interrupted fiercely.

Though Tiny blustered and grumbled and offered several feeble clucks of protest, it was obvious to all that he was enormously pleased by the beautiful Gypsy girl's devotion.

Smiling, Persephone asked Barka if Fayla and Tiny could stay with the Khan until the big Gypsy's legs had healed enough to make travel possible.

“Of course!” said Barka magnanimously. “This day you've won the friendship of not only my clan but of all the clans that make up my great tribe, and the mighty Khan
always
stand by their friends in times of trouble.”

“That is good to know,” murmured Azriel under his breath.

Persephone thought she detected a hidden meaning in his words, but before she could ask him about it, a grubby little Khan girl (or boy) trotted up and informed them that Xanther would either be overcooked or cold if they didn't come soon to sup. Appearing thoroughly alarmed, Barka immediately started to rise, but Persephone put out a hand to stop him.

“There is just one more thing I would ask,” she said.

With a longing glance in the direction his supper, Barka slowly sat back down and gestured for her to hurry up and ask her question.

“The Gorgishman who was imprisoned with you in the dungeon,” said Persephone. “Was he the ambassador to Parthania for his tribe back when you were ambassador for the Khan?”

“He was—but you'll learn nothing useful about the healing pool from him for three reasons, Princess,” said Barka. “First, Balthazar never liked the self-important, double-crossing little piss-ant so I hardly think it likely that he told him anything about
anything
. Second, even if Balthazar
did
tell him something, the surly, conniving little sneak was imprisoned even before I was, and he went stark raving mad within weeks of being crammed into that hanging cage. Third, the greedy, toe-sucking little weasel is dead.”

“Dead!” exclaimed Persephone in shock and dismay. “But … but I thought you were going to take him with you when you fled the dungeon.”

“I
did
take him with me,” flared Barka. “But apparently Gorgishmen don't much care for water because no sooner had we jumped through the trap door into the river below our cell than the ingrate tried to climb
right up on top of my head
. By the time I finally managed to peel him off me, I was half-drowned and in no mood to worry if the little shite knew how to dog-paddle. I flung him as far away from me as I could and that was the last I saw of him!”

“Well,” said Persephone in a subdued voice, after a moment of uncomfortable silence. “It is unfortunate that the Gorgishman is dead but it doesn't sound as though his death is a particular loss where our quest for the healing pool is concerned.”

“You're right on one count, anyway,” sniffed Barka, rising to his feet. “Now, come. Let us go get a share of meat before that pack of jackals I call my beloved clansmen pick poor Xanther's bones clean.”

The meat was delicious, though the ewe milk with which it was served was a little rancid and the cheese had a few too many hairs for Persephone's liking. Afterward, the Khan spent several hours acting out cherished tales of Khan daring and bravery and singing a selection of tribal favourites (Barka's voice was the best of the lot) before finally allowing their exhausted guests to collapse upon the ancient, smelly straw and go to sleep.

The next morning, Persephone awoke to the sight of Ghengor sitting on a rock not far from where she was lying in Azriel's arms. The Khan warrior had a very broad smile upon his hairy face.

“Look!” he said proudly, pointing to a hideously purple goose-egg-sized lump on the side of his head.

“It is, uh, impressive,” said Persephone uncertainly as she felt Azriel stir beside her.

“I'll probably never see straight again,” bragged Ghengor.

After the woozy warrior tottered off, Azriel sleepily pulled Persephone back into his arms, called her “wife” and nuzzled her neck so enticingly that she didn't think to pull away from him until he'd already pulled away from her. Feeling more than a little disgruntled, she went to wake Rachel. The two girls joined Azriel in choking down more rancid milk and hairy cheese, then the three of them collected their packs, reclaimed their confiscated weapons and went to bid farewell to the two they were leaving behind.

“As soon as you're able, make for the Gypsy camp,” Azriel advised Fayla and Tiny. “Let Cairn and the others know that the quest is proceeding better than we could have hoped. Tell them we'll rejoin the tribe as soon as we've found the healing pool, settled things with the Regent and saved the king.”