Path of the Sun: A Novel of Dhulyn and Parno (31 page)

This time Parno looked at her, waiting for her sign before speaking. She drummed her fingers on her knee.

“We will wait here until you have gone on. We’ll manage,” he added.

“Your determination to abide by your oath, and give your Brother Delvik Bloodeye the Final Sword, despite ill consequences to yourself, actually weighs in your favor, young one.” Singer of the Grass-Moon reached across Spring-Flood and touched Dhulyn on the back of her right hand, so there could be no doubt whom he addressed. His voice was raspy with overuse. “But it is not consequences to
you
that concerns us here, but consequences to ourselves, to our Seers. You may ride away, even pass once more through the Door of the Sun, and this land, and our concerns, will be behind you. But our women will know that you killed a man and were not punished for it. It will make them restless, make them test the boundaries and constraints of the Pact, and we will be forced to punish them because of your example.”

Dhulyn inhaled sharply, opened her mouth . . . and closed it again, before the flash of anger made her speak. It was unthinkable that they could do this, that they could take her duty from her. She looked at Parno. His eyes flicked to the gold and silver armlet Dhulyn wore on her right arm, and she pressed her lips together in frustration. Finding and aiding their Brothers was only part of their mission here, if the most important part. They had still to find the killer of the Princess Cleona, which the help and goodwill of the Espadryni would make easier.

And even if she might be willing to throw such aid away, was she willing to be responsible for the maiming, perhaps even the deaths, of Espadryni women? Dhulyn took a deep breath. She could hold to the exact letter of the Common Rule, risk failure in their mission, and endanger innocent people. Or, she could let Parno act for her in this, reasoning that it was much the same as his speaking for both of them. Was that an argument that would hold before a Senior Brother such as Gustof Ironhand?

Of course that would only matter if they were able to pass back through the Door of the Sun.
Today’s troubles today
, she thought.

She rested her left hand on her knee, small finger extended to the side.
I agree, but I don’t like it
.

 

When Mother Sun was well up, Dhulyn helped Delvik Bloodeye, sweating and with teeth clenched against the pain, out of the tent into the watery sunshine. An area had been cleared in the center of the camp, in front of the main tent of the chiefs. The women’s section touched one side of this area, but there were only a few sufficiently interested to gather closely enough to watch, and these seemed to be watching Dhulyn rather than anyone else. Once again most of the men of the Salt Desert had gathered to watch the ceremony, leaving the underage boys to mind the herds and flocks. Dhulyn frowned. She would have much preferred that Parno give Delvik his Final Sword in private—this was something between Brothers, after all—but she could understand that the Espadryni felt very differently.

Dhulyn blinked against the light, her eyelids feeling gritty. Parno’s pipes were an unfamiliar weight on her left shoulder. They had all three washed themselves as clean as possible, put on their best clothes—which in Delvik’s case meant borrowing Parno’s cleanest trousers and a cloak of Dhulyn’s that she only used in the worst cold. The sword at his side, however, was his own.

When she had their Brother positioned properly, Dhulyn caught Star-Wind’s eye and nodded. At his signal, everyone except the Mercenaries sat down on the ground.

“I would have been proud to give you my death, Dhulyn my Brother,” Delvik said almost in her ear.

Dhulyn cleared her throat. She had judged the dose of iocain correctly. “I would have been honored to receive it.” She nodded to Parno, who drew his sword. “Parno is my Partner; you know that we are the two edges of one sword.”

Delvik nodded. “Find that cursed murderer, my Brothers. Give him an extra blow for me and for Kesman.” He looked around them, at the faces of the Horsemen, some curious, some frowning. “Things would be so much better if we Brothers ran the world.”

“There would be fewer people.” Dhulyn was rewarded by Delvik’s crooked smile. “Are you ready, Delvik my Brother?”

“I am. But . . . may I stand alone?”

Dhulyn released him slowly, giving him time to find his own balance. Delvik had to put his weight on his left foot, he could not even touch his right to the ground.

Delvik drew his sword with his right hand, and smiled. Then he saluted Parno with his sword, the motion as crisp as if they were putting on a demonstration. Parno extended his own blade and gave that of Delvik a sharp rap, making the steel ring.

Don’t play.
Dhulyn closed the words in behind her teeth.
End it quickly
.

“I give you my death, Parno Lionsmane,” Delvik said, pointing his sword to the sky and touching his trembling fingertips to his forehead.

Parno returned the salute. “Delvik Bloodeye, I receive it. In Battle.” He plunged his sword into Delvik’s heart.

Dhulyn took one step forward, but Delvik only fell to his knees, Parno moving so that the blade did not pull free. Delvik put his left hand on top of Parno’s blade, his right hand still held his own. “Or in Death,” he whispered, finishing the salute.

His eyes closed, and his hand opened. Dhulyn caught his sword before it touched the ground.

Parno pulled his blade free.

The Espadryni got to their feet, and Star-Wind approached them. “The doorway has been prepared for your Brother,” he said. “Will you need help to move him?”

Dhulyn cleared her throat, but Parno answered for her. “No, we thank you. We will carry him ourselves.”

Parno wiped his blade clean and sheathed it before taking his pipes from Dhulyn and slinging them over his own shoulder. They laid Delvik’s body out straight on the blanket they’d brought from his bed. Dhulyn tucked his hands into his belt so they wouldn’t fall loose. She smoothed back his hair and straightened the cloak she had given him. Since Parno had waited to draw out the blade, the wound showed very little blood.

“Show us the place,” she said when she straightened to her feet, moving to stand at Delvik’s feet.

“If you will follow me.” Parno lifted his end of the blanket, and Dhulyn followed suit. The mass of men watching parted for them as Star-Wind led them east of the camp—toward where, in this world, the sun would rise. Here the Espadryni had constructed a narrow platform made of crisscrossed poles and lathes, perhaps shoulder height on a tall man.

Among the other things that had been decided the evening before, Dhulyn had agreed to have Delvik’s body disposed of in the manner normally used by the Espadryni. Delvik had expressed no preference for burial or burning, and it was within the dictates of the Common Rule that the bodies of Mercenary Brothers could be treated according to the practices of the land in which they died. Delvik’s body would be exposed to Mother Sun and Father Moon, Stars, Cloud, Wind, Rain, and Snow, until there was nothing left of it.

Dhulyn and Parno lifted their dead Brother up onto the framework, and Parno stood back two paces. Dhulyn took hold of the pole nearest her and looked up, as if to speak to Delvik.

“I did not know our Brother well, Delvik Bloodeye, called the Bull, Schooled by Yoruk Silverheels. I met him for the first time in the lands beyond the Path of the Sun. He sought a killer of men, to do justice and to keep to his oaths. Delvik Bloodeye, called the Bull, died in the best fashion. On his feet, his sword in his hand, killed by the blade of his own Brother.” Dhulyn’s voice was strong, but she felt the sting of salt in her eyes.

“So may it pass with all of us. In Battle or in Death,” Dhulyn added, and Parno echoed her. She stepped back, leaving Parno closest to the body. He adjusted his pipes, and began to play, using drones as well as chanter, which drew the admiration of the Horsemen who had followed them to the site.

“We would have left weapons with him,” Star-Wind said, approaching her quietly from her left side.

“Better they should go on and serve other Brothers.” Dhulyn looked sideways at the young Espadryni. “Delvik takes with him the weapons no Mercenary is without.”

“May he rest with the Stars now,” Star-Wind said. “And with Mother Sun and Father Moon.”

Dhulyn nodded without speaking and let the music of Parno’s pipes wash over her.

“
T
HIS IS GOOD,” Gun said to the carter. “I can walk from here.”

“You sure, boy? I can easy take you as far as the main square.”

Gun didn’t take offense. The man was more than old enough to call
anyone
“boy.” He’d rarely seen anyone as old who was not a Healer. The amazing thing was that the man was spry enough to manage his cart.

“I’m certain, sir. I’ve kept you from your business long enough.” And there was no way Gun wanted the old man to take him as far as the palace. Too many explanations, including why he thought that a Scholar, dirty, wet, and with scratches on his face, would be allowed in at this time of night. Gun had met the old man on the west road, not far from the sea where the tunnel out of the old Caid ruins had ended in a rocky grotto, half full of cold seawater. The old man was coming in early for the morning’s market, planning to spend a few hours in the home of his granddaughter and meet his new great-grandchild and namesake. Gun couldn’t believe his luck; not only did he have a ride to save him the long walk back to the city, but the old man was so interested in his own news he had no curiosity left over to question Gundaron’s appearance in the middle of a lonely road.

Tired as he was, the thought of a hot fire and dry clothes helped Gun make good time up through the narrow streets to the palace. He avoided the main gate and entered with the scantiest of explanations through the gates to the stable yards, anxious to get to Mar and relieve her worries as quickly as possible. Again luck was with him; many of the junior guards knew him and Mar from their frequent visits to the palace, and everyone senior enough to question him more closely was asleep.

The guard at the entrance to the royal wing was another matter.

“Scholar, you look as though the cat swallowed you and vomited you up into a mud puddle.” The man’s face was familiar, but Gun had never heard his name. What was clear from his dry tone and his narrowed eyes was that no one was either looking for Gun or worried about his absence. So Epion had raised no alarm.

Gun hesitated, knowing that the longer he took to answer, the more suspicious he would look. And yet this was not the time or place to make accusations against the Tarkin’s uncle.
Blooded nobles
, he said to himself. When was he going to learn? His hands formed into fists. He thought he’d been cured of trusting people just because they came from a High Noble House—but evidently not. He hadn’t wanted to believe it, but the cave-in had been no accident.

“Her husband came home unexpectedly,” he finally said. It was the one excuse he could think of that would account for his bedraggled appearance and the lateness of his arrival—and his hesitation.

The guard’s lip pulled back. “I’m sure your own wife will be pleased to hear that,” he said, disgust heavy in his voice.

Gun ducked his head and sidled past, his ears burning. The guard’s low opinion was just something he’d have to live with. Fortunately he reached the door to his and Mar’s rooms without meeting anyone else he had to lie to. As he would have expected, the thin line of light along the bottom edge of the door showed that Mar was still up. Gun lifted the latch with fingers suddenly stiff with cold and entered the sitting room.

“Mar, I—”

Suddenly there were soft lips pressed tight against his mouth and Mar’s warm body wrapped around his. As he returned her kisses, he felt his eyes stinging and a trembling begin in his knees.

Then Mar stopped kissing him as suddenly as she’d begun. “You’re wet to the skin,” she said, pulling him toward the brazier glowing in the center of the room. “Caids, where have you been? How did you get wet? Did you Find it? Where’s the book?”

Her soft musical voice was low and controlled, but all the time she was speaking, Mar was touching him, hugging his arm, cupping his face in her hand, and from that Gundaron knew how frightened she had been. So happy was he to see her—to be in their rooms—that it took him a long moment to realize the odd noise he heard was his teeth chattering.

“Out of those wet clothes, quickly.” Mar turned away and ran into the bedroom, where the open door let him see her rummaging through their packs.

“I don’t f-feel cold,” he said, as he pulled his wet tunic off over his head and tossed it on a nearby stool.

“I’m not surprised.” Mar handed him a soft towel as big as the bed sheets in cheaper inns and took his wet garments as he peeled them off. “It’s a wonder you can feel anything at all.”

Gun scrubbed at his face and his goose-pimpled arms. The heat from the brazier was just beginning to make itself felt. “Why wasn’t there someone looking for me? The guards at the gate didn’t even seem to know I was missing.”

The corners of Mar’s mouth turned down. “I’m so sorry. I spent most of the day with Alaria, helping her prepare for the wedding, and I didn’t even start getting worried until it was almost sunset.” She held her lower lip in her teeth before continuing. “I went down to the stable, and your pony was there, but no one seemed to remember when it came in. I was on my way to ask the Steward of Walls’ help when I ran into Lord Epion, and he said he would take care of it.”

Gun stuck his head through the neck of his tunic, pulled it straight, and sat down to pull on his leggings. “He did, did he? Well he’d just about taken care of me already.” As he finished dressing, Gun told Mar what had happened at the ruins. He spoke as coolly as he could manage, but she was still white-faced at the end of his narration, her deep blue eyes like stains on ivory. Without saying anything, she went into the bedroom and fetched a blanket, wrapping it neatly around his legs before she sat down in the other chair, but still close enough to be able to reach out and touch him.