The Bloodsworn (13 page)

Marelda answered that one. “About two months back. A group of them went through the village like locusts. Took what little the Resistance left behind, except a goat and a few chickens. The soldiers she's talking about—I know the two she means. They're with a unit camped down at Gertswold, about a day's ride from here. They come through now and again. The big one—he's the one set fire to the temple. Last winter, that was. Not surprised he was involved.”

“So the big one and the yellow-haired one—they took Rodrik?” The hope in Alix's breast felt almost like an alien presence, it had been so long.

“Not by themselves,” Ana said, “but they were there.”

“It's not the first time soldiers have made off with someone from the area,” Marelda said. “Girls, mostly. This was different.”

“Because they took a man?” Vel asked.

“That, and they came and went without stopping by the village proper. None of us even knew they'd been, until Ana here . . .” Marelda trailed off, throwing a grief-stricken look in the girl's direction. “Almost as if they came here just for
Rodrik. But that can't be, can it? What would they want with him, withered right arm and all?”

Alix tried to avoid the question, but Marelda was looking at her expectantly. “He's . . . special,” she said lamely.

Ana nodded, as if there were nothing unusual in that statement; just for a moment, she reminded Alix of herself, the way she'd worshipped Rig growing up. Marelda, though, wasn't satisfied with that answer. “Rodrik was . . .
is
 . . . a good man. But I wouldn't call him
special
.”

“He grew up in Indrask, then?” Vel asked.

“He did.”

Alix cursed inwardly. This line of questioning was unwelcome. “I think—”

But Vel was faster, firing off her next question before Alix could interrupt. “Was he born here?”

Marelda considered that. “I suppose not, now you mention it. But he grew up here from a baby. Pastora and Rab couldn't have young ones of their own, or so they thought, so they adopted the babe from an orphanage in Timra. It was another fifteen years until they had Ana.” She reached out and stroked the girl's hair. “Her little miracle, Passy called her.”

“How old is Rodrik now?” Vel asked. “What does he look like?”

Alix tried again to intervene. “I know what he looks like—”

“He's the handsomest man in the country,” Ana declared.

Marelda smiled. “There's a sister's pride. She's not wrong, though—he's a fine-looking fellow. Beautiful blue eyes, and that hair of his . . . Nothing like that around here. Gold with a hint of red—”

“I know what he looks like,” Alix said again, firmly. “I'm sorry to cut this short, but we have to get moving. We've no time to lose. Marelda, if we head to Gertswold, are we likely to find the men who took him?” She pretended not to notice the way Vel was looking at her.

“I suppose so,” Marelda said. “Unless they're out terrorising someone.”

The words were too bitter, too sharply spoken, for poor Ana's nerves; the girl burst into tears.

Stricken, Marelda gathered the girl in her arms. “Oh, sweet one. Oh, honey, I'm sorry . . .”

“We'll leave you,” Alix said. “Thank you, Ana. I know this was difficult. But I swear to you, I'm going to do everything I can to find Rodrik.” The girl's watery eyes fixed on her, but whether the words registered, Alix couldn't tell.

Vel placed a hand on the crown of the girl's head and whispered a few words in Onnani—a blessing, most likely. Then they left the pair to their grief.

Alix had just closed the door behind them when Vel gripped her arm. “You and I are going to talk,” the priestess said in an undertone, “and by the Virtues, you are going to tell me what's really going on here.”

“Is that so?” Alix wrenched her arm away, shot an uneasy glance at the wagon where their companions waited.

“That is so,” Vel said, “at least if you want me to voice my concerns privately. If you'd rather I aired them in front of Wraith, then by all means, let us discuss it all together, as one happy family.”

Alix glared at the priestess. “Did it ever occur to you that I might have a very good reason—that
Rig
might have a very good reason—for not telling you everything?”

Vel was ready for that, and parried easily. “I'm tired of risking my life for people who don't trust me. Either I am a part of this, or I'm not. Your choice.”

She left Alix standing in the yard.

“S
o,” Wraith said conversationally, “a bloodbinder, is he?”

Alix kept her expression neutral, gaze focused on the task of unfurling her bedroll. She'd been prepared for this, even before they reached Indrask. Their enquiries in the village had been a vital starting point, but there was always the risk that they would turn up inconsistencies with her story. She'd known there might be questions, and she had her answers ready. “If you've something to say, Wraith, get it over with. I'm tired.”

“All right, then. You told us we were tracking down an Aldenian bloodbinder who fled across the border to hide in Andithyri. Now we find out he grew up in that little piss-pot of a village. Never even set foot outside it, they said. You want to explain that?” In the amber glow of the firelight, his grizzled features looked more menacing than ever.

Alix paused in her work, eyeing him levelly. “Actually, that's not what I said. I told you Rodrik was a bloodbinder, but I never said he was Aldenian. That part you assumed for yourself. All I said was that Alden only had one bloodbinder, and
we needed another. I never said where he came from, only that he'd never declared himself.”

“Hang on, then,” Asvin said. “Are you saying this bloke is
Andithyrian
? We're helping you track down an
Andithyrian
bloodbinder?”

The others were gathering around now too, including Vel and the Wolves. “That's right,” Alix said. She resumed fussing with her bedroll; it gave her an excuse to avoid their gazes. “You can understand why I left that part out, perhaps.”

“Because he's not your resource to exploit,” Wraith growled. His anger was a good sign—it meant he was swallowing this new lie.

“Maybe not,” Alix said, “but we need him, and it's not as though the Resistance can make good use of him. You're too few to make any real military difference, at least on your own. On top of which, with the risks you take, he'll just end up getting captured again, back to bloodforging weapons for the enemy. He's safer in Alden, equipping our armies. You'll get him back when the war is over and Andithyri free.”

What does it say about me that lying comes so easily?
A stray thought, irrelevant. Alix swept it aside.

“How do we know that's true?” Tag demanded. “How do we know we're not helping you smuggle our last bloodbinder out of the country, never to return?”

Alix gave him an exasperated look. “I guess you don't, but if Alden fails and Andithyri stays under the Warlord's boot, having Rodrik around won't do you much good, will it?”

“It's a straightforward question of strategy,” Dain said, coming to Alix's aid. “You back the army that's got a chance of winning. Unless you think you can overthrow the Oridians with assassinations and supply raids, we're your best chance.”

Wraith scowled. “I don't like being lied to.”

“And I don't like being forced to assassinate people,” Alix snapped, “but here we are.”

A good deal of grumbling ensued, but no one challenged this new version—at least not openly—and after a while they dispersed, each one claiming his own bit of space. All except Vel, who lowered herself presumptuously onto the foot of Alix's bedroll. “That was a pretty piece of fiction,” the priestess said without preamble. “And now I'd like the truth.”

“What makes you think that wasn't the truth?”

Even in the dark, she could sense the other woman's smirk. “Aside from what I heard earlier, there is the matter of how Alden became aware of a secret Andithyrian bloodbinder. You had better consider how you will deal with that question, because it will come, once our friends have had a chance to digest what you just told them. If I were to put gold on it, I would say Asvin will be the one to ask.”

You and me both
, Alix thought sullenly.

“Apparently,” Vel went on, “you even know what Rodrik looks like. How is that, I wonder?”

Dread and anger mingled in Alix's stomach, a potent brew. What had started out as an inconvenience was fast becoming something much more serious. “I have letters,” she said through gritted teeth. “From a man called Terrell, who used to live in Rodrik's village. He was Aldenian, a friend of Chancellor Highmount's. He's the one who reported Rodrik to us.”

Vel nodded slowly. “A workable explanation. Wraith should be satisfied with that, presuming you have the letters to back up your claim.”

“I do.” A number of them were vague enough that they could be shown without fear of giving anything away.

“You're very good at this, Lady Alix.” Vel's tone was unreadable, her features masked in shadow. “You would make a cunning spy.”

“You're an expert on espionage, are you?”

“What I am is observant. Shall I tell you what I observed this afternoon? I saw a young girl of about twelve, whose brother, according to Marelda, was fifteen years old when she was born, making him around twenty-seven today. A handsome fellow, we're told, with blue eyes. Nothing remarkable so far. But then there's the hair. Gold with a hint of red, I believe she said. An unusual shade for an Andithyrian. An unusual shade
anywhere
. Foreign blood, perhaps?” Vel's smirk had acquired an edge, her tone unmistakably challenging.

Alix tried to speak, but found her mouth had gone dry.

“Even more unusual,” the priestess continued, “he has a withered right arm. No doubt that explains why he was put up for adoption. A fascinating tapestry these threads weave, don't you agree? But it was you who gave me the final thread, Lady
Alix, just now. An Aldenian man—a friend of Chancellor Highmount's, no less—happens to live in the same tiny, out-of-the-way hamlet as this twenty-seven-year-old man with blue eyes and reddish-gold hair.
Quite
a coincidence. Almost as much of a coincidence as the undeniable resemblance this description bears to a certain eminent personage whose personal bodyguard you just happen to be.”

In the silence that followed, in the clinging dark of a starless night, Alix felt her hand stray to the dagger at her belt. The priestess was the only one who'd heard the physical description. Without it, no one could possibly guess the truth. Without Vel, Erik's secret was safe . . .

It's your duty
, a hard voice inside her whispered.
You must protect the king.
Alix's pulse raced. Her fingers curled around the hilt of her dagger. In the dark, Vel's face was featureless, anonymous. A shadow. A threat.

The blade hissed out of its sheath. Alix lunged.

She drove her dagger into the dirt an inch away from the priestess's thigh, burying it to the hilt. She held it there for long moments, looming over Vel, eyes boring into the other woman. Briefly, she flicked a glance over Vel's shoulder, but no one had stirred. No one had seen. Leaning in even closer, Alix whispered, “Do we understand each other?” She didn't wait for an answer; Vel was shaking so badly that Alix had no doubt she'd made her point.

She sat back. Sheathed the blade. Vel sat there, trembling.

“Here.” Alix passed her a flask, the last remnants of her brother's wine. Vel downed it without a word. Alix waited a few moments for the shaking to pass. Then she said, “You understand what's at stake now. And you know where my duty lies. Don't make me choose, Vel. For both our sakes, don't make me choose.”

A long pause. Tremulously, Vel said, “You have already chosen, at least for now. I am fortunate to be alive, it seems.” She twisted to her feet and crossed the campsite, leaving Alix alone in shadow. It was then that she too began to shake.

*   *   *

“I'd have done it,” Ide said, throwing a dark glance across the campsite at the priestess. The others were packing up their
gear, giving Alix and the Wolves a rare moment of privacy. Alix had filled them in as quickly as she could, pretending not to notice Vel pretending not to notice them.

“Would you really?” Dain gave Ide a troubled look. “You'd have killed her? Just like that?”

“Don't know what you mean,
just like that
. It's not like it's a whim or something. For starters, she's Onnani . . .” Dain scowled and started to object, but Ide waved him off. “Don't get your smalls in a scrunch—I don't mean the colour of her skin. I mean she's a
foreigner
. And a priestess on top of it, and now she knows the most dangerous secret in the kingdom. What's to stop her telling Wraith or anybody else? Puts the king's life at risk, doesn't it? Hells, puts the whole country at risk.”

So Alix had thought in the heat of the moment. But now . . . “You really think I should have done it?”

Ide hitched a shoulder. “Not saying that, necessarily. Your brother trusts her, and that's gotta count for something. I'm just telling you what I would have done.”

“What about you, Dain?”

“I'd have thought about it, maybe. But actually go through with it?” He shook his head. “I couldn't do something like that.”

“I could have,” Alix said. “Gods help me, I almost did.”

Dain gave her a sympathetic look. “What stopped you?”

“A decision like that . . . you can never take it back, can you? I wanted to make sure I'd had a chance to think it through.”

Ide lifted a straw-coloured eyebrow. “Since when?”

“Incoming,” Dain murmured, and a moment later Vel arrived.

She stood before them in silence, spine straight as a poker, an unlikely mixture of pride and apprehension. “I came to apologise,” she said.

Alix stared. “You're . . . apologising for having your life threatened?”

“Certainly not. For my ill-considered words. I must have sounded terribly smug to you. Threatening, even. But I assure you that was not my intention. I was exceedingly pleased with myself for having worked it all out, and I let that childish excitement get the better of me. I did not consider how it would come across, or the position it would put you in. For that, I apologise.” She paused, her gaze falling to the ground. “Though I don't expect any of you to believe it, I
am
on your side.”

Alix sighed. “I want to believe it, Vel. I really do.” Not just for Rig's sake, but because she needed all the help she could get. Even so . . . “This is going to be hard to get past, though, isn't it? For both of us.”

The priestess raised her eyes; they bore a hard, practical look. “Yes, it is. But this is bigger than us, so we had better try.” With that, she spun on her heel and headed for the wagon.

Ide grunted. “I'll say this for her: She's got balls.”

“That she does,” Alix said. “I just wish I knew whether that was a good thing.” She would have said more, but she was interrupted by a harsh voice on the far side of the camp.

“My lady of Blackhold!” Wraith gave a mock bow, gesturing impatiently at the wagon. “If you're through gossiping with your retainers, can we get on the road? I'd like to make Gertswold before dark.”

*   *   *

“Ready?” In the shadows of the alley, the hard angles of Wraith's face were sketched in charcoal, his beard a dusting of ash.

Alix eyed the golden light of the tavern windows. She wasn't ready, not remotely. But it was too late to back out now. She gave a curt nod in answer.

“Remember,” Wraith said, “low profile. No questioning the locals, no getting fancy. Just find yourselves a table, have a few drinks, and keep an eye out for our yellow-haired friend. That's all there is to it.”

“That,” said Asvin, “and avoid getting killed.”

“We won't be far,” Wraith said.

“Be through that door before you know it, something goes wrong,” Ide added, patting her bow for emphasis.

Words. If something went wrong, Alix had little doubt that she and Asvin would be dead before their friends could come to their aid. For all intents and purposes, the two of them were on their own, in a strange town, walking into a tavern full of drunken enemy soldiers.
Gods, I must have been mad to agree to this.

“What if he doesn't show up?” Vel asked. “Alix and Asvin are putting their lives at risk on a hunch.”

“It's more than a hunch,” Wraith said. “This ain't my first horse race, Daughter. We've been doing this kind of thing for
months, and trust me—there's nothing occupying soldiers like better than drinking and whoring. He'll show. You'd better hope so, anyway, because after this our best shot of finding our roach is in his nest, and I don't fancy taking on a whole barracks full of soldiers.”

“Now
that
would be risky,” Asvin said.

Alix growled under her breath. “Let's just get this over with.”

Asvin stepped into the street and gestured with mock gallantry at the tavern. Throwing a final, uneasy glance at her companions, Alix headed for the door.