The Ritual (32 page)

“Check the other one’s boots,” he said. “They’ll both be too big, but with an extra pair of socks you might be
alright if you pick the smallest pair. Extra socks won’t hurt in the pass anyway.”

I swallowed and nodded, then forced myself to crouch down next to the other dead monk. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to kill anyone as
casually as you can,” I said as I began to untie his bootlaces.

He glanced at me, then shrugged. “It only looks casual, but it’s easier when I’m angry, and contrary to what you might think, I’ve not killed that many people before. Does it bother you?”

I thought about it for a moment, reminding myself that the monks only hadn’t killed me because I was a woman and fuckable. Even then, once they’d tired of me they would have dumped me for the vultures to pick over. Zash had been left to die in their gibbet, and not one of them would have lifted a finger to prevent it. In fact, they would have killed us without scruples had it suited them. Zash would kill if he had to, but I doubted he would ever do it simply for the sake of it.

“No,” I said after a few heartbeats. “Just don’t ever expect me to do it easily.”

He stopped and pulled me into his arms, kissing me deeply. “Don’t worry,” he said. “You’re strong enough as you are.”

I blushed, pleased, but he had already let go of me again, and was now starting to drag one of the dead men away from the path.

“Maniaris is the first town after the pass through the Whitecaps,” he said as I moved to help him. “We can’t really avoid it, but I think we shouldn’t stay there any longer than necessary. Buy a few supplies, then head straight out again.”

“And then on to Arlis?” I asked. “You never said where Azerev lives, but I got the idea he’s in Arlis?”

He faltered for a moment, then pushed on. “Yes, Azerev lives in Arlis,” he confirmed quietly.

We disposed of the other man in silence, though we took both satchels of supplies, then as we moved back towards our camp he said, “I think it may be an idea not to head directly for Arlis, but take a detour. Maybe go through Nennomar instead.”

That stopped me dead for a heartbeat. I had spent four years of my life in Nennomar; the last four years of my time with Naerev. It was big, almost as big as Arlis itself, but I was sure it was also to the northeast of the capital, and therefore several days if not a week out of the way for us. I closed my eyes and tried to recall the map we had studied in Kenizar, but could not escape the same conclusion. The pass through the Whitecaps that we would be taking from here ended at Maniaris, which lay almost directly east of Arlis, and Nennomar was at least three days north of the road between those two places.

“But they don’t even know that we’re going to Arlis,” I pointed out. “We could be headed anywhere.”

Zash faltered again. “It’s… the most likely place for us to be headed,” he said after a moment, then added, “and unless we’re going north, we’d have to go through Arlis to get almost anywhere. Also, the terrain between Maniaris and Nennomar is more rugged, easier to hide in. I have no desire to be caught by the monastery’s cronies.”

Neither did I, I had to admit, and Zash’s knowledge of Arlennis and its geography was undeniably better than mine. “Fine by me,” I agreed with a shrug, and then we were back in our little canyon, just as dusk settled over the mountains.

“Tell me what happened to you, after you got stuck,” I said as we settled down to wait for the dead of night.

He shrugged. “Not all that much. I’m sure you can guess most of it.”

“Maybe,” I admitted, putting my head in his lap, “but I want to hear it anyway.”

He sighed, threaded his fingers through my hair and absentmindedly began rubbing his thumb past my ear so that I shivered and had to close my eyes in order to concentrate on his words.

“They dragged me away, beat me up,” he said. “I lost at least one of my teeth there and then. I think they might have killed me, but some higher ranking monk stopped them and they tried to interrogate me instead.”

“Same questions as I got? Why did you steal the water, who was it for, that kind of stuff?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Except I didn’t have a Binding Oath to hide behind, so they tortured me. Sort of.”

I opened my eyes and raised my eyebrows. “How can they ‘sort of’ torture you?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Don’t know, but all they ever did was beat me up for a bit, then when I refused to answer they dumped me in a pitch black room without food or water. I was parched and I hurt all over, but compared to all the things they could have done to me it was rather tame, really. I suppose they save their nasty stuff for all those poor women.” He looked down and stroked my face. “They did try to make me believe that they caught you all as well. That they had all four of us.”

“And did you believe them?”

He smiled. “With you in charge? With this hiding spot to go back to? Not likely. I just laughed at them. They didn’t like that, really… That’s when they broke my arm.”

“That must have hurt,” I said, taking his hand and kissing his fingers.

He gave a short laugh. “Yeah, you could say that. I passed out from the pain. Then when I woke up I was in that gibbet. I kept hoping that I’d see you or Mior, but when night-time came and I still hadn’t, I figured that you’d been smart and gone away.”

“And leave you behind? Never!” I said vehemently. “Besides, Mior would never have left without you, regardless of what I might have said.”

“No, I suppose he wouldn’t have,” he said, glancing at his brother fondly. Then he looked down at me again and said, “And then you turned up and negotiated my release.”

“And got exactly what I wanted.”

“Yes, me outside and you inside with some ridiculous plan that bordered on insanity,” he said sternly.

“Zash, we’ve already had this argument. Let’s not have it again.”

“If you insist. So anyway, there you are. I was outside, you were inside. Mior and Shani brought me here, gave me a sip of healing water, we evaded pursuit for a bit then returned to the other hiding spot to wait for you. And you managed to spend a lot less time in there than I did.”

I gave him a wry smile. “I don’t even know how long I was in there for. They spelled me to sleep and I lost all track of time. How long was it?”

“Just over a day. You went inside in the morning and came out in the afternoon of the next day.”

I nodded. “They underestimated me, and I got lucky. I doubt they’ll make the same mistake again.”

“I don’t know, so far their decisions haven’t struck me as particularly smart or strategic, they just keep sending more monks to their death,” Zash said. “Still, you were right to say that we need to leave here, and leave soon. But not just yet.” His arm snaked around my waist and he lifted me up so he could press his lips on mine.

“Not just yet,” I agreed, wrapping my arms around his neck. “And we need to stay awake, or we’ll lose most of the night.”

“Mmm, very true,” Zash murmured, his hand creeping underneath my tunic to close around my breast. “Whatever will we do?”

“I’m sure we’ll… think of something,” I gasped. Then his tongue delved into my mouth, and neither of us spoke again.

*   *   *   *   *

It was about two measures after midnight when we’d finished packing up and I woke Mior. He was groggy, as always after exhausting himself with his magic, but when I quietly told him that we were leaving his
good eye opened wide and he surged upright to embrace me.

“You did it! You got him back!” he exclaimed, hugging me so tight that I could barely breathe. I patted him awkwardly on his back, but he didn’t seem inclined to let me go until Zash intervened.

“Mior, let her get some air,” he said mildly. “She’s turning blue.” Mior immediately drew back, but his grin and the gratitude in his eyes were unmistakeable, and I squeezed his arm.

“Didn’t I say I would? Besides, you’ve paid me back tenfold by catching me and not dropping me down that ravine,” I said, grinning back at him. “Thank you.” I kissed his cheek and he hugged me again, though less tightly this time.

“I owed you that for getting Zash back,” he said, then turned to his brother. “She is completely and utterly amazing,” he said, pointing at me as if there could be any confusion about who he meant.

“I know that,” Zash replied with a quiet chuckle, though when I met his eyes for a moment I thought I saw a hint of sadness in there. “Come, we have to get going.”

It’s dark
, I told myself.
You could see anything in his eyes right now, even love
. I pushed the thought away and bent over to wake Shani, but if I had expected a similar reaction as I’d had from Mior, I was to be disappointed. Recognition flashed in her eyes as soon as she opened them, and she sat up and slapped me hard in the face before I had the chance to draw away.

“Hey, whoah!” Zash exclaimed, grabbing her wrist while I danced out of reach.

“Shani, what…?” I stammered, completely baffled by her actions.

“You made me kill people,” she hissed at me. “You made me throw
fireballs
at
people!
”

Understanding dawned, but Zash clasped both her wrists in his vice-like grip, twisted them to her back and told her in a few succinct sentences what had happened to me inside. With every revelation she sagged further, and when he finished speaking her eyes were wide and apologetic when she looked at me. Zash let go of her and she made a helpless gesture, then I held out my arms and she threw herself into them.

“I’m sorry, Shani, I really am,” I whispered. “But it was them or him. You wouldn’t have thought twice if it’d been Mior cutting the ropes. I’d have fireballed them myself if I could have.”

“I know, I’m sorry too,” she whispered back. “They deserved it, I know, but…”

“But it’s hard. I understand. Still, you saved us, Shani. All of us.” We hugged each other for a few moments more, then Zash patted me on the shoulder.

“We should
move,” he said. “It’s slow going uphill, and we need to make use of the night.”

With that we left our little canyon behind for the last time, and after a minor detour to burn the wooden bridge-posts to the ground we turned our footsteps to the
Whitecap Pass, and to Maniaris.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The mountain pass to Maniaris was a lot easier going than our first trip through the Whitecaps had been. We reached it after two days on the path from the monastery, at which point we turned west and started climbing.

Easy going or not, it wasn’t a pleasant trip. The Whitecaps were narrower here, but taller too, and unlike in the
Dragon Peaks further south we spent three days above the snowline. There were no caves here, so the only way to keep warm was to walk, and when we didn’t walk we huddled close to share our body warmth and had to sleep with all our clothes on. Since in my case that was one set less than everyone else, I was frozen and miserable, and try as he might, not even Zash could warm me up. In addition to that my borrowed boots were too big and chafed even with two extra pairs of socks, and the wool felt like it was encrusted to my feet with sweat, blood, wound fluid or possibly all three.

The descent on the other side was steep, and thankfully it only took us two days from the snowline to reach Maniaris. It was a town much like Naylis, built into the foothills of the mountains with steep streets, tall houses, a population of surly miners and the familiar, pervasive acrid smell. Only the speech of the locals sounded different, more clipped compared to further south. Had we stayed longer I might have discovered some other unique qualities that differentiated Maniaris from Naylis, but Zash intended to only spend one night there.

As always when I arrived in a town I wanted a bath, but Zash flat out forbade me to do so, wanting us to go out to replenish our supplies and replace my lost clothes first. We very nearly came to blows over it; I felt like claiming that my feet needed a rest, that they were too bashed up from my ill-fitting boots and that I needed a day’s rest, but it was a lie I couldn’t sustain. Despite everything they had healed almost completely by now, and I knew Zash would see that for himself soon enough. Instead I sulked until he promised me that I could soak for half the night if I wished, as long as we got our supplies sorted so we could leave first thing in the morning. He made up to me by joining me in the bath, and as a result we ended up getting so little sleep that we could barely keep our eyes open when we left again at dawn.

From that point, things went strange.

Zash appeared to lose all sense of urgency. We went northwest towards Nennomar, but as hurried as he had been to leave Maniaris, so slow did he become as soon as we were out on the road. He stopped early for lunch and insisted on a fire to make tea, and some fresh meat or fish if we could obtain it. Since the terrain was a gently rolling landscape with lots of small copses, streamlets and clusters of shrubs, there was plenty of wildlife around to snag, and our progress was slow.

In the evenings too he halted early, even though it was now the height of summer and the days were long and light. We would eat another fresh catch, and the rest of the day we devoted to lessons or – more often – sex.

We spoke little. The lack of progress we made reeked of deliberate stalling, but I did not dare ask him why he dithered so. Zash wasn’t closed off like he had been in the Dragon Peaks, but ever since we left Maniaris he had become withdrawn and morose, and it reminded me that he and Mior were still keeping secrets from us. For a while I had almost forgotten about the night-time conversation I had overheard between them, but in those slow, warm days between Maniaris and Nennomar I could think of little else. As always I wondered what their issue was, what their plan had been and whether it still applied.

My guess was that it didn’t, but that no alternative had presented itself. Whenever I spoke to Zash I got his full attention and the casual affection I had become used to, but he never initiated a conversation, and if no one talked to him his eyes were focused on nothing and he brooded.

A greater worry – at least on Shani’s part – was that Mior became similarly sombre. Zash had always been more sedate and inscrutable, but under normal circumstances Mior was an endless source of good cheer and optimism. To see him lost in thought for more than a quarter measure was out of character, and not to hear him laugh regularly was downright unsettling.

I did not have a clue what to do about the situation. I wanted to come clean and talk to Zash about what we knew, but never got as far as drawing a breath to do so, mainly because he had not confided in me. If he cared about me as much as I cared about him he would tell me what was wrong, I reasoned, and since he hadn’t I would only get lies out of him. He couldn’t be waiting for me to say something first, since to his mind I knew nothing.

In contrast, the nights were bliss. For all that he was lost in thought during the day, the moment we crept naked into our sleeping rolls Zash focused on me and aroused me to a point where I was nearly out of my mind with ecstasy, and could not think beyond what he was doing to me. I did wonder whether this was a way to ensure that I didn’t talk to him, but his continuous desire couldn’t possibly be faked, and it wasn’t something I was inclined to complain about. I also knew that Mior was doing the same to Shani – it was impossible to be shy around each other unless we chose to sleep several hundred yards apart – and all together it made the trip to Nennomar a journey of extremes which took us nearly nine days rather than the four it ought to have been.

We had almost reached Nennomar when Zash called another early stop, this time because it had started to rain and he wanted to construct a shelter for the night. We did so in silence, and after dinner he pulled me into his sleeping roll to begin his nightly ritual of slow arousal and multiple satisfaction. I paid him back in kind until we had exhausted each other, then sank into deep, dreamless sleep.

It was still pitch dark when I woke up, and for several heartbeats I lay motionless, wondering what had woken me. Although the rain had stopped, the night was still overcast, with no moon or starlight to illuminate our surroundings, but we had banked our fire, and by its subdued red glow I could make out and identify most things in our camp.

I heard a sound, a quiet rustling at the edge of my hearing, and as soon as I heard it I knew it had been that which had woken me. I shifted a little, and felt Zash’s arm tighten around me to hold me down.

“Don’t move,” he breathed into my ear. “There’s someone in our camp. Don’t let on you’re awake.”

My arm was around his neck and draped over his back, and I gave a small squeeze to indicate that I understood.

“Can you move your head?” Zash asked, and very slowly I turned, until I saw movement – a slightly darker silhouette against the black of night. Whoever it was, he was bent over the mound that was our pile of backpacks, and as I observed the shape he lifted one of them, which made a tiny clacking sound when two items inside shifted against each other.

The shape froze, and I had seen enough. Someone was trying to rob us, and I didn’t intend to let it happen. I moved my arm, nudging Zash up and hoping he would get the hint that I wanted him to move. Between us we should easily be able to overpower one person, even naked and without weapons.

Thankfully he understood. “On the count of three,” he breathed. “One… two…
three!
”

We both surged up and I dove for the shape, aiming for the legs. Zash aimed for the waist, and I felt myself connect with a body before we all went down in a tangled heap.

Against common sense it was an advantage that Zash and I were both naked. The robber fought with all his might and managed to pull a limb loose once or twice, but I knew that as long as I was holding on to a clothed body I wasn’t accidentally trying to restrain Zash. The fight finished when I heard a meaty thud and the intruder slumped underneath me.

“Ow!” Zash swore beside me. “Godsfucking ow!”

“What?” I asked. “Zash? What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine
. He’s got a hard chin, is all,” he reassured me. Then his voice turned annoyed. “Mior, I know you’re awake, can we get a light please?”

A glowing ball of light appeared above our heads, faint at first but growing steadily brighter, giving our eyes time to adjust. I looked at Zash first, to verify that he really was
alright, and saw him suck on his knuckles before shaking them out as he looked down on our unwanted visitor.

“What the…?” he started, then hissed, “Oh, you Godspissing fucker!”

I finally looked down as well, and sucked in a breath when I recognised the unconscious robber.

It was Siander.

“What the fuck is
he
doing here?” Mior asked, bringing his light a little closer overhead.

“Looked like he was trying to go through our packs,” I replied, picking up my tunic. I’d be damned if I was still going to be naked when the elf awoke.

“Still trying to take credit for all the work we’ve done then, it seems,” Shani sniffed.

“More like the money,” Zash said, pulling a coil of sturdy cord out of his backpack with which he started to tie Siander up. “But let’s see what he has to say for himself.”

When he’d done I tossed him his trousers, and he quickly pulled them on, then raked up the fire. “Have we got any more wood? Might as well make ourselves a drink now that we’re awake.”

“I’ll get some,” Shani said, and conjured up her own light source as she walked away from the fire. She returned shortly with an armful of sticks, and for a
little while we all stared at the fire as she fed the sticks to it, then stuck the teakettle in the glowing coals.

Finally Siander began to groan, and he shook his head as he tried to sit up. It seemed to take him a few heartbeats to realise he was bound hand and foot, but when he did he started struggling. “Let me go!” he whined, and Zash gave a deep sigh.

“Why is that always the first thing they say?” he lamented, then turned to the elf. “I specifically tied you up so you wouldn’t run away, so how about trying something a little more persuasive than just ‘let me go’?”

Siander peered at him, then at all of us in turn before looking back at Zash. “Let me go or Azerev will hear of it?” he tried.

“Oh for… Look, I’m sick and tired of that line! Azerev won’t like this, Azerev won’t like that! Well, I’m getting pretty fucking fed up with what Azerev wants! If I hear his name out of your mouth just one more time I’m going to deliver your fucking ears to him with my compliments, together with those
bloody
items of his, do I make myself clear? Now why the
fuck
were you rummaging around in our possessions?”

“You don’t seem to be in a hurry to make your delivery, are you?” Siander challenged him. “I was expecting to meet with you in Maniaris, but then I found you gone already. Why are you going to Nennomar anyway? Arlis is that way.” He indicated with his head, then raised his chin defiantly.

“None of your fucking business,” Zash hissed. “Now answer my question.”

The elf shifted uncomfortably but said nothing, so Zash sighed again. “You were trying to steal the items, weren’t you?”

This time Siander squirmed. “Will you let me go if I tell you?”

“You’re testing my patience,” Zash said, clenching his fists. “If you tell me, I might decide not to kill you. How’s that for a bargain?”

“He means it, you know,” I remarked. “I wouldn’t push my luck if I were you.”

Siander shifted his nervous gaze to me but still didn’t say anything, and with a noise of exasperation Zash started rooting around the campsite, tossing items out of the way as he was looking for something. “Rin, where did you put my daggers?”

“Where I always put them, Black Eyes, right where you’re sleeping,” I picked up a sheathed dagger and threw it to him, but before he could even draw it Siander started whimpering.

“N…no! Don’t!” he pleaded. “I admit it! I was trying to steal your items!”

“Good! We’re getting somewhere!” Zash said. “Unfortunately for you, that’s a killing offense.” He moved over and grabbed the elf by the hair, pressing his dagger against his throat. “Any last requests? Any profound last words you want to share?”

“No!” Siander cried, trying to scrabble away. “Please, no! I need the money! Please, you have no idea what it’s like!”

“What what’s like?” Zash asked, frowning.

“What it’s like to be poor! To have to scrounge every coin together! To not be able to buy what you want! I need servants, a house, I…” He finally seemed to realise what he was saying, but all four of us were too flabbergasted to do more than give him open-mouthed stares.

Then white-hot rage took over and I grabbed him by the front of his shirt, my face almost touching his. “Are you fucking serious? You’ve got a nerve, haven’t you? Do you have
any
idea who you’re talking to? What we are? What we have to go through on a daily basis just to make sure we don’t get randomly arrested and killed?” I was shouting by the time I finished, and Siander had his eyes closed and was whimpering steadily.

I let go in sudden disgust, loath to even touch him again, and he seemed to interpret it as a reprieve. “You lot are used to it!” he protested rather unwisely, and Zash shook his head.

“Right, I’ve had enough of this,” he said. “I’ve had it with your petty whining, your backstabbing, your endless demands and above all your complete and utter
elvishness
. Pray to whichever God you prefer, Siander, and hope that you meet him at the right side of Eternity.” He raised his arm, ready to cut his throat.