The Book of Forbidden Wisdom (21 page)

Bran struggled on the slope. He heaved with the effort, but he didn't slow. And I had gauged it right. We came out ahead of the ‘Lidan riders, only yards away from Silky and the other women with bows.

One of the women gave a great cry, but not one of fear. She ran, and the others followed her, down in the direction of the roiling mass of ‘Lidan troops and horses.

All but Silky. She stood her ground with her crossbow, and she waited. She didn't spare me a glance; all her focus was on the ‘Lidan horsemen coming toward her.

She was giving the other women a chance to get to the main part of the fighting. A crossbow is not a longbow, and Silky was going to have to wait until the soldiers were on her to fire. I could only hope that the ‘Lidans wouldn't cut me down on their way to her crossbow. I had no bow at all. I had only the knife I had been cutting the willow with.

Bran and I were on the crest of the canyon when Silky suddenly seemed to notice who I was.

She yelled something, but I didn't hear. Then she yelled again.

“
Angel
—­you're in the
way
.”

I was between her crossbow and her targets, and I didn't know which way to turn. She couldn't fire without killing me. She might as well have been unarmed.

I should have known Silky's skill better. She lifted her crossbow, and the bolt went so close to me that a little puff of air lifted my hair. The arrow lodged itself in the ‘Lidan rider who was right behind me.

But there were more behind him.

“Best not to move
at all,
” said Silky to me calmly. She lay in another bolt. And another ‘Lidan went down, one whose armor should have been better fastened under the arm.

I did as she said; I pulled up Bran, and the ‘Lidans, going full out, passed us.

Silky fit in another bolt. There were two ‘Lidans left, and they were in battle rage, and they were facing down a slip of a girl who was unarmored and completely ignorant of battle.

The closest to Silky went into a full gallop, trying to end the distance between him and my sister. He carried a battle-­axe, and he raised it as his horse bore down on her.

When he was half a stride away, she took him down. The horse had to scramble to avoid stepping on her. She stood her ground.

The fourth ‘Lidan had been canny and had used the others to shield himself. He was close to Silky as she laid in her last bolt. The sun was behind her, and I saw her squint as it reflected off the ‘Lidan's helmet. She wasn't going to be able to see well enough to take good aim. And I knew that she was too stubborn and too sentimental to aim for the horse.

Silky loved horses, and it was going to kill her.

Unless I did something.

I crashed Bran sideways into the ‘Lidan's horse. For a second I thought I was going to fall, but Bran, because he was half-­rearing, heaved me back into the saddle. It was the ‘Lidan who fell, his armor clanging on the jagged rocks to my side. I was triumphant, and looked to Silky—­

who suddenly cried out “
Angel!
”

I hadn't seen that there was yet another ‘Lidan behind the one I'd unhorsed.

All I knew was that I felt as if an ox had stepped on me, and then, for a while, I didn't feel anything at all.

 

A
s I lay on the ground, I had no vision of my mother. Arcadian myth had it that when one was near death, one's mother came to help with the long journey. But really I didn't feel dead so much as muffled. Sound came to me faintly—­I thought I could hear Silky calling my name, and then she was crying, “Get her out; get her out; get her
out
.” The only sense of mine that was sharp was that of smell: blood and garlic. I wished that it would go away.

And then I was gone again.

W
hen I regained consciousness once more, I became aware that a large, armored dead ‘Lidan warrior, one who liked his garlic, was lying partially on top of me. We lay together like that, the dead warrior and I, for a while in a macabre embrace. Finally the weight lifted. The smell of sweat and battle (and garlic) receded, and a scent I recognized from my childhood took its place. But it wasn't Silky's scent.

It was Trey's. Without opening my eyes, I put my arms around him. Perhaps there would be nothing wrong with my sudden surge of need—­and something else, some kind of want—­if I just kept my eyes closed. But he let go as soon as he realized I was conscious, and a moment later, Silky had taken his place.

“I ran out of bolts,” she said. “Trey was running toward us. He threw a knife—­a really good throw.”

“It had to be,” said Trey.

“Bran?”

“He's okay,” said Trey. “Next time take your own horse.” And I could hear past the gruff voice, and I could see past the mask that was his face to the fear.

The fear that was not for his horse.

“Where's Renn?”

“He's probably singing the ‘Lidans to death,” said Trey. “Come on. The day is far from ours.”

I looked down at the melee near the pikes. The women, with their brooms and their few horses and some crossbows, were among the horsemen. When a ‘Lidan went down, he was finished. It was then that I noticed there was a man among the women.

“Is that Jesse?” I asked.

“Yes,” said Trey.

“He's in danger.”

“He's going to be fine,” said Silky unexpectedly. “He's strong. We need to take care of
you,
Angel.”

“Where's Zinda?” I asked. “Caro?”

“In the thick of it,” said Trey.

“I hope you can walk,” Silky said. “Because I've been trying to drag you down the mountain, and I don't think I can make it much further, even with Trey.”

“What happened?”

“The ‘Lidan you killed fell on you and bled all over you, which scared me because I thought it was
your
blood. There was another ‘Lidan behind the one you rammed. That's the one Trey took care of. They were hidden by the first ones.”

We staggered down the side of the hill in silence. Blood was dripping into my eyes—­I had a scalp wound that was weeping red. When we reached the tented area for the wounded, Silky found a clean cloth and pressed it to my forehead.

I don't know how much time passed, but suddenly Renn was there.

“Angel,” he said, and he came right up to me.

“She's fine,” said Silky. “And don't
touch
; you know better. In getting Angel down the mountain, Trey's done enough touching for both of you.”

Silky had a serious want of tact.

Renn looked as if he would take pleasure out of hitting Trey. Trey held up both hands, as if expressing innocence and a desire to placate. “She was unconscious,” he said. “She needed to be moved.”

“Are you all right, Angel?” asked Renn.

“Yes.” I was all right, but the ragged emotions roused by battle were causing all the underlying tensions of our journey to bubble to the surface. Zinda came into the tent. Jesse was right behind her. Silky made a move toward him, but I held her back, and a moment later he joined us. His face was smeared with dirt and blood, and I thought that in the heat of the moment he was going to touch Silky, but he observed decorum. Perhaps for her sake.

Given a good long period of time, it was possible I might learn to like him.

The wounded women called to Zinda, and she went to one or two cots. She was haggard, and there was blood on her hands and shirt. It was Lark who hurried over to tell us the news.

“Caro's dead,” Lark said. “She was killed in front of the pikes, and we haven't been able to recover the body yet. Zinda's been fighting as if she doesn't care about dying anymore. I told her the wounded women needed to see her. ”

“Maybe she really doesn't care about dying,” I said. Caro, I knew, had been like a sister to her.

And I could understand that kind of love. I loved Silky, and I needed no explanation for that love any more than I needed to understand breathing in order to breathe. But I never let anyone else get close. Not even Trey.

Not even Trey.

Then Zinda was with us.

“It's time for you to go,” she said.

“What are you talking about?” asked Jesse, wiping his face of blood and sweat.

Zinda looked stern, but her words were gentle.

“You've more than paid your debt to us,” she said. “But I realize now we have a debt to you. It's as I said: you have to go.”

“But
Zinda,
” said Silky. “We haven't
won
yet.”

“We will, Golden Hair,” said Zinda. “But those close to me are having no luck today, and you need to finish your quest. I've spoken with Bard Renn. You didn't tell us the Lady Angel knows
The Book of Forbidden Wisdom
. That changes everything. Find it; make it yours; change all Arcadia. But forty more ‘Lidans will be here within the hour. You have to get out of here now.”

The others looked at me curiously, and I knew they were wondering about
The Book
. But what Zinda said held truth: if I got to the deeds of the free lands, I could shape Arcadia as I wished. I could thank these women properly. If they lived, I could transform their lives.

And Zinda was going to have her way no matter what; there was no gainsaying her in the wake of her terrible loss. We found that the horses had already been tacked up for us. Lark came to us with baskets of food, and I filled my saddlebags, as did the others.

Silky examined the horsemeat as she put it away. “The poor thing didn't even know it was a ‘Lidan horse,” she said. “It just got unlucky.”

“Go on now,” said Zinda. “I have ‘Lidans to kill.” She sounded like a schoolteacher speaking to children.

“Will you please tell the archers to watch their stance and to breathe
out
when they shoot?” said Silky.

“I will, Golden Hair. We'll keep the ‘Lidans very busy while you get out,” Zinda said. The set of her face was grim.

I didn't want to ask Zinda this, so I turned to Trey and murmured, “What do we do if some of the ‘Lidans get through the canyon to us?”

But Zinda heard me.

“None of them will get through,” she said.

O
nce the road wove around a hill, I could no longer hear the noise of battle. The future seemed to open in front of me like a book waiting to be read, but the words were not words I knew, and the letters were not from our world.

When we came out from behind the hill, we could hear the sounds of battle on the wind again, and we could see great carrion crows circling far behind us.

“The ‘Lidans will be on us soon,” said Trey. “We should move farther north.”

“Zinda said the ‘Lidans won't make it through,” said Silky.

“They're women, Silky,” said Renn, “fighting with brooms and rocks against trained soldiers. Before the day ends, all those from the village will be dead.”

“Not
Zinda,
” said Silky. “Not
Lark
.”

At that moment, Renn seemed dark. Not dark and seductive. Just dark.

W
e were sheltered from the road by some trees, but we pulled even farther back into the brush, because suddenly there were hoofbeats on the road—­erratic hoofbeats, as if a horse was scrambling at a gallop in fear.

It burst into the opening.

I never want to see a horse in that condition again. Its saddle had swung down under its belly and was terrifying it into running harder, which made the saddle bang more at its underside, which made it run. Its eyes were wild and red, and sweat and foam streamed down its neck and flanks. I saw the colors of Garth's House on its bridle, and then it was gone, galloping south on the great Arcadia road.

“The battle's over,” I said.

No ‘Lidans followed the horse. No more horses came.

“They weren't—­“ Silky spoke softly, but we all stopped what we were doing so that we could hear what she had to say. Silky swallowed and then spoke again.

“Those women,” she said. “They weren't very broken at all.”

 

T
he following day, we had stopped for a drink of water and a bit of dried fruit when two riders came out from under the trees behind us. We had passed right by them.

The riders were both women. The one in front was lightly veiled and dressed modestly in sober colors. There was little remarkable about these women other than the fact that they had no chaperone.

And that they had been hiding.

They began coming toward us, but before they could reach us, I had leapt from Jasmine. Silky lowered her bow, and I heard her gasp. I ran to Niamh, and she dismounted into my arms.

“Niamh,” I said.

“Angel. I've missed you. And Silky, too, of course. How's my son behaving?”

I glanced at Silky. She blushed.

Jesse laughed as he got off his horse. He came and knelt at Niamh's feet, and she gave him the parental blessing. Then he got up and gave her an informal embrace that lifted her off her feet.

“Well,” said Niamh to Jesse after he put her down. “Have you found anything worth seeking?”

Jesse looked at Silky, and then at his mother, and then back at Silky.

I didn't like it.

When Niamh saw Trey, her smile faded. She started to lift a hand as if to touch his face, but he flinched.

“I'm sorry, Trey,” she said. She lowered her arm and began speaking with Jesse. It was as if she had given Trey a shield.

Niamh understood pain better than anyone I have ever met.

The second rider was heavily veiled. She sat her small horse awkwardly, as if she wasn't comfortable, and she was holding the reins in such a way that the horse must have wondered what she wanted of it.

Her gauzy crimson veil fell to her stirrup and was embroidered with pearls and small glinting bits of mirror. She had made some concessions to practicality by wearing pants rather than a dress, but the purple silk, just visible when she moved, was not the sort of material that would hold up well to travel.

I was surprised Niamh had agreed to be seen in her company—­as a guide for women on the run, Niamh couldn't afford to be stopped or questioned, and this decadent garb was unlikely to pass other travelers without attracting attention.

I tried to imagine this woman as one of Niamh's clients, and I failed.

While Niamh was off to one side, speaking with Jesse, the woman stayed mounted, although she was shifting uneasily. I attempted not to stare at her clothing. Silky and I spoke together in carefully lowered voices.

“Look at her costume,” said Silky. “We used to play dress-­up in stuff like that.”

“I doubt she thinks of it as a costume,” I said. “She's standoffish, don't you think? Although it's hard to tell with the veil.”

Silky examined the stranger.

“She looks like a giant candy,” she said.

Niamh, who momentarily seemed to have forgotten about the woman, now introduced her.

“This is a Lady of one of the Great Houses in Shibbeth,” said Niamh. “I'm escorting her to Southern Arcadia.” Niamh smiled, almost with affection. But not quite.

The woman didn't speak.

For Niamh's sake, I put on my best manners.

“I'm the Lady Angel Montrose,” I said. “And this is my sister, Lady Silky Montrose. And this is Lord Trey, and Renn, who is, who is—­“

“A bard,” Renn finished. I looked at him with gratitude.

No reply. The veil made it impossible to determine whether or not she was rude or shy or—­

Niamh spoke so that only I could hear. “She's difficult. And a stump's got more sense.”

We waited politely for the woman to say something.

“They're not going to bow to you,” said Niamh, “if that's what you're waiting for. We're all equal now. Why don't you just take off the veil? It must be stifling in there anyway.”

The woman delicately lifted the veil. Under the gauzy crimson was another veil, this one in some kind of yellow satin. She really did look like a candy.

Then she removed the yellow veil.

“Oh.” said Silky. “My.”

For my own part, I could say nothing.

I was looking into the face of Charmian.

“Yes, it's me,” she said. “You actually
could
bow. I'm a Great Lady, and I wouldn't be here if you hadn't killed Garth.” I realized my mouth was open. She smiled at me. “Yes, I know you killed him,” she continued. “Who else? I had to get out of there after. His son and heir is a pig. He's also my half brother, so that makes him an incestuous pig.” Charmian gave an unladylike snort.

“The women of The Village of Broken Women let us through,” said Niamh. “They're used to my comings and goings. They were just celebrating a victory when we were there.”

“They killed the troops Garth's son sent,” said Charmian. “Now I'm safe.”

So Charmian was the third woman the troops had been looking for.

“Why's Garth's son after
you
?” asked Silky. “If he's your, well, your brother?”

“Half brother. And he wasn't interested in being my brother—­he wanted me to be a concubine,” she said. “Plus, without Lord Garth, I was
nobody
.”

“I'm so sorry, Charmian,” I said.

“That's ‘Lady Charmian'—­to all except you, Niamh.” Charmian was looking at her face in one of the fragments of mirror that decorated her veil.

Niamh sighed. “Get off your horse,” she said. “We'll take a rest here and exchange greetings with my son and his friends.”

Charmian dismounted, without grace. Her pants caught on the saddle's pommel and almost pulled right off. We were treated to a display of flesh. Renn, Trey and Jesse carefully looked away. Silky was clearly shocked. I wanted to laugh.

Once on the ground, Charmian turned to Silky and to me.

“I still don't understand why you wanted to leave,” she said. “Lord Garth was powerful. You could have become Great Ladies of Shibbeth. You, Angel, could have married my-­half-­brother-­the-­heir—­the money would have made up for a lot. Think of it. Endless baths of roses and milk. Now he wants you dead.”

Silky shuddered—­not, I knew, at the death sentence, but at the thought of bathing in bruised roses and lukewarm milk.

“Enough, Charmian,” said Niamh. She turned to us. “We're picking up the Long Straight Road not far from here. We'll turn south there and then east; we'll seek safe haven in the heart of Arcadia. I know a place.”

“Road with us, Niamh,” I said. “Even if only to the Long Straight Road.”

“Of course,” she said. “Of course.”

Jesse smiled.

Charmian frowned.

We mounted up and kept riding.

T
hat evening, while Trey and Renn built the fire, Niamh took Silky and me aside.

“We were stopped by two armed men,” she said. “They were looking for you two. They thought we
were
you.”

“Oh,
no,
” said Silky.

“Troops from Garth's heir?” I asked. I wondered if he had, perhaps, sent out more than the eighty soldiers we knew about. And yet nobody from Shibbeth had made it past The Village of Broken Women—­of that I was sure.

“They weren't soldiers,” said Niamh. “And they didn't recognize Charmian when they made us take off our veils. One of them had a leopard embroidered on his cloak.”

“Ugh,” said Silky.

“Leth,” I said. “The leopard is the sign of his House. He's the man I almost married.”

“You have poor taste then,” said Niamh.

“I used to,” I said.

Niamh smiled at me.

“I bet Kalo was with them,” said Silky, and I nodded at her.

“We told them nothing,” said Niamh. “I don't think they followed us.”

“How did you keep Charmian silent?” I asked.

“A very harsh look.”

I was laughing as we joined the others.

L
ater that evening, Jesse and Silky sat on a nearby log at exactly the right distance apart to please a chaperone—­a fact that in itself worried me. They were deep in conversation and seemed oblivious to the rest of us. Occasionally Silky laughed, almost nervously, and I wondered what they were talking about. Silky wouldn't have tolerated anything inappropriate, but that left a lot of topics that I probably wouldn't approve of.

I'm not sure when I realized that Charmian was missing, but when I did, I checked for the little digging stick we kept by a mound of dirt.

Initially Charmian had expected to have her own chamber pot, and it was somehow left to me to explain the facts of camp life to her. For quite a while she had thought I was making a dirty joke, and, until light dawned, she had enjoyed the humor hugely.

Any anxiety I might have had about Charmian's absence evaporated when I saw that the digging stick was indeed gone. I doubted Charmian was far. She wasn't much concerned with modesty.

I sat down to clean one of the saddles, keeping half an eye on Jesse and Silky, when the noise started.

It was breathy little screaming. The sort one might get from a woman who was wearing a corset set a ­couple of notches too tight.

We all converged at the same place.

Charmian stood in a clearing. She ceased screaming when she saw us.

“A spider.” Her bosom heaved. “I saw a spider. A really big one.”

“For heaven's sake, Charmian,” I said.

“I hate the outdoors,” she cried. “I want Garth's son to die. I want to go home.”

Niamh bothered to try and comfort her.

The rest of us went back to the fire.

But even as I went to my bedroll, I realized something about Charmian. She was not what I would normally think of as a survivor, but she had managed to increase her chances of success by winkling her way into our group—­through her association with Niamh, of course. We didn't want her. We didn't like her. But, until she and Niamh turned south, she was one of us.