The Ritual (22 page)

“I’m sure he is,” Zash muttered, scratching his shoulderblade. “If he wanted it done faster he should have done it himself.”

“Now now, no need for that,” Siander said. “So? What progress?”

“Not here, and not now,” Zash snapped. “We’ve walked all day and need a rest first.”

“And a bath,” I added.

Siander peered at me, then gave a grudging nod. “Very well, I’ll come see you tomorrow then. Pleasant dreams.”

“Hateful man,” Mior muttered as the elf sauntered out the door, then shrugged and walked to the bar and rang the bell for the innkeeper.

There was a moment of awkwardness when we got to the rooms and both Mior and I started to follow Zash into the room he chose.

“Sorry, force of habit,” Mior said, backing off just as I did the same.

“No, it’s fine,” I assured him, though I didn’t really want to give up my spot in Zash’s bed. “Let’s just keep the old arrangement, we’re used to it.”

“If you’re sure…?” Mior said hesitantly, glancing at Shani, but then Zash gave a sigh and settled our dilemma.

“Mior, no offense, but she’s a damn sight prettier to wake up next to than you are,” he said, taking my arm and pulling me with him. “Besides, it makes more sense for us to share a room if we’re going to be out for half the night burgling.”

“Fair enough,” Mior chuckled. “I’m sure I can live with the disappointment of not falling asleep to your snoring.” He ran his hand along Shani’s braid and propelled her into the other room, then followed. I trailed after Zash into his room, biting my cheek to hold back the grin that I could feel lurking around my mouth.

“I don’t snore,” Zash muttered, shutting the door behind us before peering at me. “Do I?”

I smiled and walked up to him, wrapping my arms around his neck. “You don’t snore,” I assured him. “Or if you do, I’ve never heard it.”

“I don’t snore,” he repeated with satisfaction, and I could feel his smile when he kissed me on the corner of my mouth. “Want to test the bed?” He quirked an eyebrow, but although I was tempted I shook my head.

“I’d rather test the bath first. I haven’t washed properly in weeks.”

“You could have fooled me,” he said, cupping my face in his hands as he
kissed me again. “You smell…” He inhaled deeply and rubbed his nose against my hair, “enticing.”

“Hmm,” I crooned. “And soon I’ll smell soapy.” I pushed his arms away, then got my spare clothes out of my pack and walked back out again.

“Will you be long?” Zash called after me.

I grinned at him over my shoulder. “Absolutely.”

*   *   *   *   *

The next day saw us all rested, washed and fed on proper food rather than dried travel rations. It was good to feel clean and sated, and after breakfast I returned to our room to doze a little longer, determined to make as much use as possible of a proper bed while I had the chance.

My slumber was interrupted when Zash came in, but my smile at seeing him sagged when he was followed by Siander.

“Take a seat,” Zash said curtly. “The others will be here soon.”

To my chagrin the elf chose to sit on the bed, and I sat up and scooted away from him.

“Why so unfriendly?” he asked, scooting after me. “I can’t help but notice that you’re sharing the bed with our handsome friend here.” He looked pointedly around the room, at my tunic still drying over the window sill and at Zash’s smallclothes, carelessly tossed to the ground at the foot of the bed.

“And what’s it to you?” I challenged him, coming to a stop against the bed’s headboard.

Still he came closer. “I’ve never had a half-elf,” he said, stretching out a hand to my face. “I’ve always wondered what–” He stopped and swallowed when he felt steel against his neck.

“Touch her and you lose an ear,” Zash said calmly, moving his dagger so the point tickled the apple in the elf’s throat, and Siander slowly raised his hands.

“Look, I was just–” he began, but at that moment the door opened and Shani and Mior walked in. Zash pulled back and slid his dagger back into his boot, and I could see Siander breathe a sigh of relief before scooting away from me again.

“Tell us what you want and then piss off,” Zash snapped. “We’ve got better things to do than report to you.”

“Like what, fucking your little whore?” Siander sneered. He turned to Mior. “Are you humping her as well, or is the other one yours? I can’t believe you’ve managed to get yoursel
ves a matching pair. Do you keep switching? Have you tried them both?”

Zash sighed and looked at Mior, who gave a half-smile and gestured at the elf. “All yours. Well, this time at least,” he said cryptically.

Zash nodded, then took two quick strides, grabbed Siander by the hair and yanked his head back, pressing his dagger against his throat again. “One more word I don’t like and I’ll take pleasure in slitting your throat,” he growled. “I never liked you anyway, so I’d advise against making it worse.”

“Fine, fine
!” Siander hastened to say, his bravado gone and replaced by nervous fear. “Sheesh, can’t you people take a joke?”

Zash’s lip curled in disgust, but he let the elf go again, ostentatiously wiping his hand on his trousers and stepping away.

“Azerev wouldn’t be happy if you killed me, you know,” Siander said. His words suggested he was aiming for confidence, but his voice got stuck at wheedling. On our previous encounter he had been all suave sophistication, but this time I got the impression that he was full of false courage – a bully when he got away with it, but quick to piss his pants when someone turned against him.

When I met Zash’s eyes over
the elf’s head I realised that while he was clearly enjoying his display of machismo, he was also trying to show me what kind of a person Siander was, and to let me see that I needn’t fear him. He further confirmed it by giving me a quick wink as he started to clean his nails with the point of his dagger.

“Azerev would have to find out first,” Mior remarked offhandedly.

Siander glared at him. “You think he wouldn’t?”

“You tell me. I’ve never seen the point of you. We know where Azerev lives, we know what he wants. What do we need you for?” He conjured up a little flame and casually let it travel from finger to finger across both his hands.

It was an interesting display, and I gained a further insight into how Zash and Mior worked together. Siander was easily intimidated, so the studied nonchalance of their stances combined with the careless display of weapons and power unsettled him. I could see sweat starting to bead on the elf’s upper lip as he kept glancing from Zash to Mior and back again, and he positively radiated unease.

Then he transferred his attention first to Shani, then to me, and his eyes narrowed. I crossed my arms on my chest and made my expression as flat as I could, doing my best to add to the air of quiet menace. When Siander spoke, however, his voice was steady and his eyes were cunning.

“Azerev likes to be kept informed. If I don’t return within a certain time he will let you know his displeasure,” he said. “Remember the marks.”

Zash stiffened for a heartbeat and I saw the flame on Mior’s finger flicker. It happened almost too fast to notice, but it worried me that the elf seemed to know something that could disturb them, and I wondered what he meant with his remark.

Then Zash stabbed his dagger into the wood of the table with a quick, angry movement. “I’ll say it again,” he hissed, “tell us what you want and then fuck off.”

“I already said, a progress report,” Siander snapped, his confidence back now that he had the upper hand. “What have you got? When do you think you’ll be finished?”

Zash straightened up and said, with clear reluctance, “Three out of four. We’ve got all but the water.”

“Show me.”

Mior sent a questioning look at Zash, who gave a curt nod. The flame disappeared as Mior picked up his backpack and rummaged around in it, producing the Heartstone, the bottled dragon flame and the small wooden box with the sprite feathers. He placed them in a row on the sideboard, and I heard Siander suck in a breath when he saw the diamond.

“I’ll take those to Azerev,” he breathed, standing up and stretching out his hand to the Heartstone. In a flash, Zash moved between him and the items.

“I don’t think so,” he stated flatly. “We retrieved them, so we’ll deliver them.”

“But anything could happen!” Siander said, his voice wheedling again. “Think of the danger! They’d be much safer with me.”

Zash laughed. “Safer with one weak little elf than with four trained criminals? Go report to your
master
, you coward. You can tell him we’ll deliver everything when we’ve got everything. Now, was there anything else you wanted?”

Siander glared at him, then visibly tried to pull himself together, standing up straighter and grasping for the remnants of his bravado. He looked at me again and managed a wavery grin. “You sure you don’t want to join me for a night?” he asked, pretending that he wasn’t intimidated and failing at it.

Zash drew in a breath, but I smiled and slid off the bed, swaying my hips as I took the few steps to him and drawing my own dagger. “Why not?” I breathed as I ran the flat of my blade past his jaw up to his earlobe. “I could show you some titillating tricks with a dagger. You could even have us both, if you wanted.” I glanced at Shani, and she grinned and stepped closer as well.

“You could,” she agreed, raising her hands in front of her, fingers splayed. She murmured something, and between them a small fireball started
to form, turning Siander’s expression to plain fear. “We could guarantee you a very
hot
night,” Shani finished, letting the fire float towards the elf. He bent back as far as he could, and it dissipated just in front of his face.

“So, what do you say?” I asked. “I’ve not used my knives in a while, but I’m sure I could still shave your balls as smooth as those delicate cheeks of yours. We could have some
fun
together.”

He finally seemed to remember that he could move, and ducked away from me and around my sister. “Crazy bitches,” he whined, “Azerev will hear of this.” With that he ran out of the room.

“Go check that he leaves,” Zash said, gesturing at Mior with his head. Mior nodded and also left the room, and after a quick grin at me Shani followed him.

As soon as she closed the door Zash turned to me with a smile of grim satisfaction. “Loathsome little fuck,” he commented, then drew me into his arms and kissed me deeply.

“Nice display, very macho,” I complimented him after a few moments, and felt his grin against my lips.

“Same to you. As always, you pick up fast.”

“Mmm,” I agreed, sliding my arms around his neck. “What was he on about there? He mentioned marks.”

Zash’s mouth descended onto mine and his tongue demanded access as his hands went straight to all my most sensitive spots. “Nothing important,” he assured me, then started tugging at my clothes, proceeding to arouse me swiftly and thoroughly.

I could have assumed that my handling of the situation had turned him on, and that Siander’s remark really was nothing important. Zash’s voice held its usual confidence, and it would have been easy to believe him. It still niggled at me though – the elf had been too self-assured, too certain of the power of his words, and it had been completely incongruous with the rest of the conversation. Also, Zash was a born liar, and to distract me like this was the easiest way of taking my mind off Siander, which was another reason why I was suspicious of his sudden passion.

Then my lover tumbled me onto the bed with him and closed his mouth around my nipple, and all rational thought disappeared from my mind. Did it matter what one loathsome, stinking elf had said? Zash’s desire for me wasn’t fake, and his skill at satisfying me was beyond anything I could ever have dreamed. I fisted my hand in his hair and let the pleasure wash over me, all worries forgotten.

CHAPTER NINE

We didn’t stay long in Kenizar, just long enough to get new supplies. Zash and I took a stroll around town to look at the houses, but it didn’t take us long to decide that it was unlikely that there would be much worth stealing, not even from the residence of the elvish magistrate. Thankfully we still had enough money left from Tizar to buy everything we needed, and when I returned to our room one afternoon I found a pair of new trousers spread out on the bed for me. I just caught Zash’s smirk as he bent over his backpack and grinned before stripping off the ones I wore to try on the new ones.

“Do they fit?” he said behind me as I smoothed out the creases over my legs.

“Just about, they’re pretty tight. Did you do that on purpose?” I asked, turning around.

His mouth twitched. “Me? Such a base accusation.”

“Deny it then.”

“Sure. I used the same measurements as I did in Naylis, so you must have just got fatter.” He cupped his hands around my bottom and squinted up at the ceiling, lifting me a little as if weighing. “Yep, definitely fatter.”

“I’ll give you fat,” I muttered, jamming my fingers into his armpits so he doubled over. He grabbed my shoulders tight so I went down with him, and within moments we were wrestling on the bed, both of us struggling to get the upper hand and giggling like children. Eventually Zash managed to pin me down, but it took him quite a while, and he was breathing hard.

“You’re getting better every day, Little Firelocks,” he said with pride in his voice, and I beamed at him.

“I’m starting to recognise your tricks,” I confessed.

He nodded, but his face turned serious. “Be careful with that,” he warned me as he eased up and let me go. “Don’t tailor your fighting just to me. I’m not the one… Other people will fight much differently.”

I acknowledged his words with a nod, wondering at the momentary hesitation, and he gave me a quick but thorough kiss before clambering off the bed again, much to my disappointment. I managed to grab his hand just before he stood up and gave him a pleading look. “Stay?”

He smiled but shook his head. “Plenty of time for that later. Right now we need to plan.”

He left the room, and I tidied away my spare clothes while I waited for him to return, running my hands over the cloth of my new trousers a few times. They were made of soft wool, softer than I was used to, and the snugness was quite comfortable. Then, when I thought about it, I realised that all my clothes felt a little tighter, and I wondered if I really had gained weight. It made sense, since I had not gone hungry ever since meeting Zash and Mior. Back when it had been just Shani and me we had often gone several days with little more than a few crusts of bread, but these days we had plenty of money to buy everything we needed.

My thoughts were interrupted when Zash returned with Shani and Mior, and together we sat cross-legged on the bed as he smoothed out a tatty-looking map between us, borrowed off the innkeeper. I studied it with interest – I vaguely knew how maps worked, but hadn’t seen many, and this one looked detailed if a bit scratchy.

“Right now we are here,” Zash said, pointing at a dot on the eastern half of the map. I tilted my head and managed to decipher the letters spelling Kenizar next to it, then let my eyes wander to see if I could find the other places we had visited.

“The Pillars are here,” Zash continued, moving his finger up and a little to the left, close to the great swathe of upside down V’s that marked the Whitecaps. “The innkeeper said it’s about four to five days to get there, but it could take longer to then find the Monastery of Balance.”

“What do you mean ‘find it’?” Shani asked. “Isn’t it marked?”

Zash shook his head. “Apparently the monks discourage new visitors these days. Anyone who can afford their services already knows where it is, or can find out from other rich customers. Casual or inadvertent visitors are unwelcome.”

“So we shouldn’t expect signposts then,” Mior said.

“Indeed. However, the monastery is said to lie in the south-western corner of The Pillars, around here.” He shifted his finger again, and Mior nodded.

“On the edge then, near the mountains,” he said.

Zash made a non-committal noise in his throat, then sighed. “I suggest we just start walking, and when we hit The Pillars turn left and follow the land. I can’t say I much feel like trying to make my way across those pillars themselves, if that’s even possible.”

“So when do we leave, tomorrow?” I asked.

Zash nodded. “We’ve got everything we need now, so there’s no need to stay any longer. I’m getting fed up with the stink of this place anyway.”

“What’s the terrain like between here and there?” Shani asked.

“Fairly rugged, I think. One or two more days of this forest, then it’s hills all the way. Should be quite pretty this time of the year.”

*   *   *   *   *

Pretty or not, we got little opportunity to enjoy the landscape, because just around when we set off the weather finally turned. We left Kenizar under an overcast, leaden sky, and before the morning was out the clouds opened. We had walked in the rain before, but that had been no more than showers – gentle spring rain that stopped almost as fast as it started. This was more like a monsoon, and I wondered whether that was normal this far south and east. I had no frame of reference though, since I had never been to this side of the mountains before.

At first
the rain was refreshing, after the weeks of constant simmering heat, but the novelty soon wore off and I found myself wishing for the sun to return. The thick woollen cloaks we had bought in Naylis were watertight as well as warm, but the rain persisted for four solid days, and by then they were soaked through, weighed about five times as much as normal and smelled like a pack of wet dogs. We encountered no villages, so were forced to make camp early in order to construct a makeshift shelter, for what it was worth. Everything we wore or carried was either damp or soaked through, and it was impossible to find any firewood dry enough to burn.

The morning of the fifth day was brighter, however, and shortly after noon the sun broke through the clouds, which then evaporated altogether in less than a measure. Not that this made things much better, since it quickly became hot enough to start drying out our damp clothing, and for a while everything chafed and got uncomfortably sticky in the heat. Zash soon called a halt so we could spread out our damp possessions and let them dry, and it was a relief to not feel my sleeping roll stick to me when I crawled in to sleep later that night.

The rain had slowed our progress, because it took us six days to reach the edge of The Pillars. When we reached them, however, they were unmistakeable: the cliff edge stretching out to either side of where we were standing was sheer and so tall that we could barely see to the bottom, and to the north of us we could see the granite columns trail away into the hazy distance. They put me vaguely in mind of the stone monoliths on the Whistling Plains, except these were straight and strangely regular in shape, with clear, angled corners. I studied one as we turned left along the escarpment, and deduced after a while that it was hexagonal in shape, as were all the others. They were also bare, with little more than dry-looking tufts of grass and the odd cactus growing on them.

We were now travelling due west, towards the Whitecaps, and as the mountains drew closer the cliff edge started curving to the north. We followed it for two more days until we were walking straight north again, enclosed by the Whitecaps on our left and the deep ravine on our right. The going became more difficult – on occasion we had to detour into the foothills of the mountains because there was no path that followed the cliff, and still we had not seen so much as a hint of where the monastery might be.

Then one evening Shani pointed ahead and to the right of us, and against the violet sky we saw a wisp of smoke trailing up. By now the cliff edge was strewn with gigantic boulders, some of which bridged the gap to the nearest granite pillars, and we proceeded with more caution, trying as best we could to stay behind the cover of the rocks. When we stopped to rest that evening Zash scouted ahead in the dark, and returned with the news that we had finally found the Monastery of Balance.

*   *   *   *   *

The first thing we did the next morning was move further towards the mountains, where the cover was better, and around noon we reached a spot almost due west of the monastery. We were around ten feet up from the ravine, and from our elevation the structure was clearly visible. It was enormous and hexagonal, like the pillar it was built upon, and formidable enough that my heart sank into my boots upon seeing it.

“Magnificent,” Zash breathed beside me, and I turned to look at him.

“Terrifying,” I opined, determined to make it clear to him that I still had huge reservations about his impromptu plan.

He smiled and ran an affectionate finger past my cheek. “Don’t worry, Little Firelocks,” he assured me. “We’ll be fine.”

I shook my head and turned my attention back to the building in the distance, studying it as best I could.

It
was
magnificent, I grudgingly admitted to myself. The walls appeared to extend from the top of the pillar as if the stone itself had grown taller and developed windows and crenellations, bored with the simplicity of its sheer surface until then. From the walls inward the horizontal surface became jagged with roofs and little turrets, and the overall effect was that of a giant, uneven meat mallet. There appeared to be no space between any of the roofs, so even if we would be able to reach the monastery’s rooftop there seemed no way in from there, although the presence of guards along the walls pointed to at least one access point from within.

Access to the monastery itself was, as reported, by one narrow bridge that spanned the ravine directly to the east of us. It was constructed of thick rope handrails and sturdy planks, but it still swayed in the wind and looked precarious enough that anyone with a fear of heights would think twice before crossing. The end of the bridge came straight up to the door of the monastery, with no space in between, and I estimated the total distance it spanned at around fifty to sixty yards.

“If that door is barred, we’re already screwed,” I commented after a while, unable to find the access point from which the guards got onto the roof.

“Not necessarily,” Zash replied. “Mior can probably levitate the bar out of its brackets from this side.”

“Levitate?” Shani said, sounding halfway between annoyed and excited. “You never told me you could levitate things!”

Mior grinned. “Give a man a chance! You can’t learn everything in one go, much as you seem to be trying to. I just hadn’t got round to levitation yet. It’s not hard anyway – you use an ordinary binding ward but you disengage the anchor,
and you have to keep the flow at about twice the…” He trailed off when he saw Zash’s impatient look and coughed. “Anyway, yes, if it’s barred I can levitate it out, provided the beam isn’t any bigger than that door suggests. A wooden bar is about the limit of what I can lift.”

“Disengag
e the anchor and double the flow?” Shani muttered, splaying her fingers thoughtfully. “But how do you–”

“Keep the lesson for later please,” Zash interrupted her, though he softened his words with a quick smile. “Right now I want to hear ideas, thoughts, suggestions. To start with, where do we think the healing spring is inside all of that?”

For a while we all stared at the sprawling mass of masonry, then I tentatively pointed to a spot left of the middle. “There.”

“W
hy there?”

“Look at the roofs. It’s subtle, but that point right there is quite low and flat. From there if you check the full circle around it, the roofs all appear to be in the same style. The next ring around it is a little different again, all the way until the edge, and from there you get part circles, all slightly different from the one inside it. If it was built out in stages over the centuries, it looks like they changed their building style every time.”

“You’re right,” Mior said after a few heartbeats. “Now you’ve pointed it out I can see it too. It’s clearest in the third ring, they’ve put little decorative thingies on the gables, see?”

Zash nodded and kissed me soundly. “Well spotted. So once we’re inside, we go in that direction. Just try any door that seems to lead that way.”

I stared at him. “And that really is all the plan you’re going in with?”

“Why not?” Mior backed his brother up. “It worked before, at the king’s palace.”

“Whoah, wait,
what?
” I exclaimed, whipping around to look at him. I just caught his wince before he smoothed out his face again, but the contrition in his eyes as he looked at Zash was unmistakeable. I turned back to Zash and he gave a chagrined shrug, then met my gaze with something close to his old arrogance, though he said nothing.

“The king’s palace,” I repeated. “So it was you two who committed that theft?”

He added his mocking smile to his arrogant look. “Surely you could have guessed that by now? Can you think of anyone else who would – and could – steal from the king?”

“Twenty half-elves in every town and city, Black Eyes,” I said quietly, and his eyes flashed with anger as he stepped close to me.