Path of Revenge (23 page)

With one vigorous movement Dribna raised the oar above his head and brought it down—hard—on top of the dark shape. ‘Dribna! No!’ the priest whispered, much too late. The shape slumped to one side, then dropped like a rock into the river.

‘What have you done?’ Conal said. ‘Get in there and rescue him!’

‘Couldn’t have him alerting the others,’ the guard said, seemingly unconcerned. ‘Now, let’s board the barge and get what we came for.’

‘I can’t swim,’ said the priest, more to himself than to Dribna. ‘And I’m not letting whoever it is drown. How do you know it’s not the queen herself?’

‘Too small, I think,’ came the reply, but his tone was uncertain. ‘Ah, you’re right, I should have checked.’

Conal could wait no longer. He stood up with a jerk, his unexpected motion tipping the guard into the water on the other side. An inexpert jump landed him belly-first in the river, and he was immediately swallowed by an impossible inky blackness. Opening his mouth to call for help proved as foolish as his initial leap. The small shape was forgotten as his mouth filled with water and panic froze his veins.

Down, down like a stone. Weeds wrapped themselves
around his flailing arms. Spots grew before his eyes. The man of light, drowning in the darkness.

Something jerked his legs.
A fish, a big fish!
he thought, overcome with fear. The fish dragged his legs upwards: he would be eaten while he drowned. A small part of his mind prepared to give an account of his deeds to the Most High.

‘I gottim, Ma!’ he heard someone call, just as he emerged from the water. He wriggled his body in a desultory effort to break free of the grip on his ankles, but his mind had already given up. He hung in the air a moment, then landed with a thump on a wooden floor of some kind. The grip relented; he found himself on his side, retching, bringing up muddy water in a series of explosive convulsions.

‘Lookit,’ said another voice. ‘Is this what banged Philla?’

‘Musta been.’ The first voice. ‘I’ll bang
him.
’

Actions were suited to the angry words: Conal received a series of thumps on his back, loosening the remaining water in his lungs which he puked weakly onto the floor in front of him.

‘Is the…is the boy, whoever, all right?’ the priest got out before being overcome by another convulsive retch.

‘Yeh, perfec’ly fine, being smacked on the head an’ all, nearly drowned, thanks for askin’. Finer than you will be if he don’t get better.’ A second, younger voice.

‘I’m a priest. I mean you no harm.’ Conal tried to reassure them.

‘Well, we mean you some harm, so shut yer whinin’.’

‘Look, lady, we fished a priest out of the swamp. Wonder what he tastes like?’

A finely crafted shoe slid into his vision, working its way under his chin.

‘A priest?’ said the shoe’s owner. A woman. A voice he knew. ‘He would be right at home in the swamp, I
would have thought. Let’s see if we know him.’ The foot jerked upwards, encouraging him to turn onto his back. He lay there gasping, looking up into the angry eyes of his queen.

‘Oh yes, we know this one, all right. The Archpriest’s favourite little boy. I’m accustomed to seeing him dressed in more finery than this, though. Dear oh dear, look what’s happened to your cloak! So he sent his catamite to do his distasteful work, did he? Afraid of getting his hands dirty? Or are the guards waiting for your signal to attack? You had best find your tongue, sir, or you might have another chance to perfect your swimming technique.’

‘Did you get—’ he coughed ‘—did you find the guard? He might still be in the boat, but I think I tipped him in the water. His was the blow that knocked the boy from your boat.’

‘No one else gone swimmin’ tonight, my lady,’ a small boy said. ‘Not that I seen.’

‘There was another with you?’ the queen asked sharply. ‘You’re not trying to deflect blame?’

‘I tell you the truth. There are only the two of us. He told me we wouldn’t hurt anyone. Your majesty, he changed the plan without any discussion, and knocked the boy into the river. I jumped in to rescue the boy, and I suppose I tipped the guard out of the boat. Or perhaps he swam to safety. Please believe me.’

‘Jarner?’ The queen addressed an older boy.

‘Nuh. No sign of nobody else.’

Something thumped onto the deck behind them. Frightened and somewhat disorientated, Conal raised himself onto his hands and turned his head. He could make out a dark bundle, soaking wet, an arm’s length away. It was covered by what looked like the guard’s cloak. He reached towards it.

‘Keep your hands to yourself,’ growled a new voice,
and a booted foot came down hard on his fingers. He yelped and jerked his hand back.

‘Found this knocking against the side of the barge,’ the new voice said. ‘The kingfrogs hadn’t got to it yet. Can’t tell how long it’s been in the water.’ The man, wearing the uniform of an Instruian Guardsman, peeled the cloak away from the shape.

‘The guard?’ the queen asked Conal.

Conal had to draw close in the faint light. ‘Yes,’ he said, moments before heaving himself to the side of the barge and vomiting into the river.

‘Now what?’ he heard the queen say. ‘What do we do with a dead guard and a live priest?’

‘Better if it had been a live guard and a dead priest,’ Robal said, poking Conal in the ribs with his foot. ‘We could have used another guard.’

‘Not this one, I think,’ said the queen, eyeing the body with distaste spread across her handsome face. ‘If the priest is telling the truth we might as well have kept swamp snakes in our cloaks.’

‘All I’m saying is it would be easier if we had two bundles to throw into the river instead of one.’

‘No killing.’

‘Ah, I suppose not. The swamp is foul enough as it is, without adding this to it.’ The guard nudged Conal again, this time a little harder. ‘Get up, son.’

‘It’s our barge,’ said the youngest boy. ‘We decide ‘bout killin’. This dead one c’n go back to the water, and the live ‘un can join him soon as we truss up his arms.’

The guard spread his arms helplessly. ‘It’s their barge,’ he said. ‘Can’t go against their wishes.’

The queen stepped over to the young boy. ‘Oh yes we can. The stone I gave you in payment will more than cover passage to Vindicare for all three of us. But, just to make sure, I have another stone here, an emerald, which should be more than enough to purchase this
barge and the hire of a steerswoman and three competent sailors to bring her through the Maremma.’ She held out her hand. Conal could not see what lay in her palm, but the boy’s eyes opened wide.

‘Where was you hidin’ that?’

‘You didn’t find it when you went through our things, did you, Gren,’ said the queen, and the boy took a step back. ‘Are you going to take it or not?’

‘What are ya gonna do with the barge once we get to Vindicare? We’d buy it back at a fair price.’

The Falthan queen laughed, a very human sound from the woman the priests knew as the Destroyer’s Consort. ‘A fair price? I’m sure. Are we agreed, then? And don’t wipe your hand on your nose this time.’

The boy lowered his own hand from his face, grimaced shamefacedly and placed it in hers, shook it and deftly pocketed whatever she had offered him.

‘Robal, bring the priest to the cabin. Let’s see if we can’t get rid of some of his stink. If we succeed, perhaps we can permit him to dine with us. I have some questions for him.’

‘And while he’s answering them, perhaps he’ll eat my flatfish,’ Robal muttered.

Stella asked the young priest to accompany her up to the deck, leaving Robal to pick over the remains of the fish meal. Despite his protests, the guardsman ate everything set in front of him with evident relish. She smiled. A strong, resourceful, impressive man, more intelligent than he cared to appear, who treated her with a strange but warming mixture of deference and familiarity. A man whom she hoped to persuade to accompany her on the journey ahead. Unlike the man who knelt before her now. She could think of no one she would like less as a travelling companion. Physically small, with a white, puffy face dominated by a flat nose and thick red lips
sitting uneasily under thinning hair, the priest looked up at her but managed to avoid her eyes. Untrustworthy. Venal. Stella knew better than to judge a man by his appearance, but when that appearance confirmed her prejudices, it was a difficult tendency to counter. This man would bring trouble.

A soft rain began to fall. The priest pulled his wrap closer around him, but did not complain.
I have him cowed for the moment.
The trick was to make the moment last as long as possible.

‘My name is Stella. It is the name you must always use when talking to me or about me. Since it appears in the Mahnumsen Scrolls only once I do not expect others to identify me when you use it. I will not tolerate being referred to as “the Destroyer’s Consort” or any similar epithet. Now, what is your name?’

‘I…Conal of Yosse, your m—Stella.’ A surprisingly deep voice for such a small man.

‘Yosse? The village an hour’s ride north of Longbridge?’ Stella was surprised: most of the Halite priests lived in Instruere. As the city was built on an island in the middle of the Aleinus River, it could only be approached by bridge or by boat. The northern bridge, Longbridge, was always crowded with people, making the journey a time-consuming one. Besides, living in the city gave a citizen more prestige, a higher standing in the community. There was more wealth to be had in Instruere than in the Kingdom of Deuverre to the north or Straux to the south.

Perhaps she had wrongly assessed the man.

‘You serve the Archpriest directly?’

‘The…the Archpriest?’ The man certainly could not mask his emotions. This was a subject he wanted to avoid.

‘Don’t think to deceive me. I have seen you in his company regularly.’ She thinned her mouth to show her displeasure. ‘Or, at least, walking respectfully
behind him. Are you a scribe designated to record his every word, working diligently to fill the eighth scroll?’

‘Something like that.’ He smiled wanly. ‘Though I have been promised advancement. Do I look so much like a scribe?’

‘A guess, no more,’ she said, though something about the man had begun to disturb her. She hoped it had been a guess, because the image of him bent over a desk, laboriously copying an old scroll, still sat strongly in her mind. She felt some sort of connection with the priest; something resonated within her, something familiar. Faint but familiar. Maybe she had met him at some function, or perhaps run across his parents.
Be patient, let it settle, it will become clear.
‘An important task. Oh, and do stand up.’

He nodded a careful agreement as he got to his feet. Out to the north distant thunder rumbled, a lazy autumn storm stalking the plains.

‘Why did the Archpriest send you and your late companion after me?’ Stella kept her voice pleasant. ‘Was it just to advise me as to the date of the royal funeral?’

‘No, my queen…er, Stella.’ He spoke with a growing confidence. ‘I’m sure you are aware that the Koinobia wishes to speak with you in detail concerning the events surrounding the Ascension of Hal Mahnumsen and the defeat of the Destroyer. You offer us a…
unique
perspective, and in return we offer you a chance to influence the way you have been represented in our sacred writings.’

‘Very well, I’ll speak with you.’

‘If you will not agree to share your story with us, how can you expect…I beg your pardon?’

‘I said I’ll speak with you. Not with the Archpriest, not in his sanctum, not where a questioner can do his foul work on me. I’ll speak with
you.
Here, now, over the next few days. You’ll take notes and report the
conversation fairly and without alteration to your Archpriest. He will decide whether to accept or reject it. But if he rejects it, you will know he is interested in something other than the truth.’

‘I couldn’t.’

‘Can you swim?’ she asked casually, casting a glance at the dark waters below.

‘You did not have me thrown overboard when doing so would have served your interests,’ the young man said, licking his lips, ‘and I cannot imagine you would do so now. Very well, I will listen to and record your views, though unless we have a witness I doubt the Archpriest will give them any credence. Perhaps your guardsman will verify our discussions?’

‘I am sure he will. But why would your word not be believed?’

‘Because the Archpriest does not know I am here,’ the small man admitted. ‘I was talked into this by the senior royal physician, whom the Archpriest asked to track you. I suspect he’ll think I’m trying to make a name for myself.’

‘And are you?’ She held his gaze.

He grimaced, clearly unused to such directness. ‘Yes, I am,’ he admitted. ‘But I’m not here only for myself. I want to explain something to you…’

His voice tailed off. In the silence the rain pattered down on the deck and the tarpaulin covering the Wodrani family’s upriver goods.

‘You want to offer me redemption,’ Stella said flatly. ‘You care about my moral condition. That’s lovely. The only problems are the assumptions you make. Two in particular anger me: that I am fallen far enough to need redemption, and that you are upright enough to deliver it to me. Frankly, I doubt both.’

The priest mumbled something.

‘You’ll have to speak up.’ It had become harder to hear, due to a persistent and growing rumble from the
north. The storm? No, this was not the sound of thunder, and there were no lightning flashes to be seen. What would make such a noise?

‘My lady, I said that perhaps we could suspend judgment until we have heard—’

‘Be quiet,’ Stella said, interrupting him. ‘Listen! What do you hear?’

The rumble grew louder, then louder still. She could not tell whether what caused it was growing larger or moving closer, or both. The mist had gone but the darkness defeated her gaze. A deeper blackness…from which came an ear-splitting growling, accompanied by something that sounded like the tearing and cracking of trees. The situation went from interesting to frightening in an instant. Robal burst up onto the deck, followed by the four Wodrani. It was now impossible to hold a conversation. They could barely hear each other shout.