VirtualWarrior (28 page)

“Shall I wear it too?” Einalem asked.

“That would please me. What do you think Cidre will wear to
the hunt?”

“Something green.”

They shared a laugh, and Samoht knew she was ripe for his
question. “So, whom do you think Cidre will give the seduction potion to?”

“Not the old man. Deleh told me she heard Ardra say the
goddess needs a daughter to carry on her work. Perhaps the illness that kept
Venrali from our table the first night has prevented him from getting her with
child. It is said he has worked at it for several conjunctions to no avail.”

“Hmmm. Then Cidre stole the potion to seduce a new consort?”

“Deleh thinks so. She says Venrali has angered the goddess,
or so the kitchen slaves say. He has fathered at least two sons on slaves.
Deleh thinks the goddess must choose a new consort before she is too old to
raise and train a daughter. It takes a lifetime, you know—”

“Aye,” he interrupted her, not caring about goddesses and
daughters. “I am sure ‘tis a long process. But whom do you think she wants the
Vial of Seduction for?”

“Whatever man she can find who has proven he is virile and
can produce a female child.”

“That could be any man.”

“True. I suppose any virile slave would do. But Deleh says
the kitchen slaves believe the man must be special. He must be a powerful
match, her equal.”

“There are few to equal her status.”

Einalem went to the door. She pulled it open and smiled back
at him. “I cannot think of many who would fit her requirements. A councilor
would do. A warrior of Ralen’s status, perhaps. Why, you are not only a
councilor, but you have proven your mettle on Boda. You have a daughter.”

“Nonsense. Cidre cannot mean to use the potion on me.”

“Why not? I would watch what you eat and drink, Brother.”

“What a ridiculous notion. If she used it on me, I would
slice her throat.” Despite his words, he felt a shiver of distaste. He glanced
at the map table and the goblet of wine he had been drinking.

“But if you are seduced, Samoht, you will not want to kill
her; you will want only to bed her.”

Samoht stared at Einalem a moment. “What you say holds
merit. I shall have one of my personal guards taste my food and drink.”

Einalem left, and Samoht returned to his table and the
allure of his maps, dismissing Einalem’s concerns from his mind. He smoothed
his hands over the map of the eight chiefdoms. There on the edge he saw the
border between Tolemac and Selaw.

“Aye, Einalem, I shall give Lien to you as a personal slave.
He will be compliant to your wishes as you will be compliant to mine. When all
of this is over, when Ralen is lifemated to you, I shall take your very
compliant slave and direct an excursion across the ice fields. Lien can show me
the wonders of his chiefdom. And then we shall see how long the Selaw hold out
against me.”

The hunting party made too much noise, in Lien’s opinion, to
catch a damned thing. They were a formidable quantity of people that included
at least a dozen slaves and one packhorse. Any self-respecting boar within
twenty miles had long since found a nice cozy hiding place.

Cidre, her hair braided into loops and covered by a gauzy
green veil, kept up a running commentary on the trees. Some were pines, or tall
oaks, a welcome straight line among all the matted twisting of the other trees.

Nilrem jostled along in his saddle, looking as miserable as
a rider could be. Venrali listened to the goddess as if he’d just arrived
yesterday and repeatedly asked for some woodland fact. Samoht and Einalem,
dressed like twins in black with lots of roses splashed on their hems and
sleeves,
oohed
and
aahed
, asked questions, pointed, and generally
sucked up to the goddess.

Ralen had fallen into a hard silence. Ardra rode beside the
warrior, likewise silent unless someone spoke to her directly. Her back was
straight, her hair a sheet of gold down her back. Lien imagined she must be
screaming inside, to spend the last of her eight days on a boar hunt.

As far as Lien was concerned, it was not a hunting party but
a social ride through the trees. He wondered what the true purpose of the
journey was.

Lien decided it was time to find out what was going on, but
Venrali lifted his hand and the party halted in a broad glade filled with
coppery sunlight. Bright white streamers of cloud floated in the purple sky
overhead.

At Venrali’s order, everyone dismounted. Ralen muttered
under his breath as the slaves dashed about setting out cloths and opening
saddlebags containing roasted birds and fruit.

Lien could not eat. Ardra walked right by him to Samoht.
Lien watched her touch the councilor’s sleeve and sweep out a hand in the
direction of the horses. The two strolled over to the string like best friends.
What the hell was going on now?

Ardra looked up into Samoht’s lean face. He was comely if
one looked beyond the lines that years of frowning had etched on his face. “I
have a bargain for you, most Esteemed High Councilor.”

“When a woman uses my title, I grow cautious,” he said. He
rubbed the nose of his horse, a horse the color of thick cream, a horse whose
saddle had red roses carved into the leather.

“I use your title so you will know it is a council bargain I
want to make.”

“Go on. My curiosity is piqued.”

“I want to trade myself for an assurance.”

His eyes grew wide. “Indeed?”

“I could wait until the morrow to admit I will not find the
Vial of Seduction.” She wondered if she had his full attention as his gaze
flicked to where Einalem sat alone in a pool of black skirts with red roses on the
hem. Ardra hurried on, “But we both know how likely it is that I will fail. So
I thought I would make my bargain now.”

Samoht dragged his eyes back to her face and said, “If I
wait until the morrow, I will have your fortress without making any assurances.”

“But you will not have me. Not willingly. Not wanting to
please you. Whenever. Wherever.” She lifted her chin and dared him to make a
biting insult as was his habit.

He said only, “What assurance do you want?”

“I want you to write out an assurance that upon its signing,
you will withdraw your army and go home. Leave my fortress under my rule to be
governed by the treaties already negotiated by the council.”

“And for this
written
assurance, I get you.”

“Aye.” She kept her eyes on his face and forced herself to
forget Lien and every moment in his arms.

“Unconditionally.” Samoht raised one eyebrow.

“Unconditionally.”

“As my concubine? Available to my every whim? When I
withdraw my army, you go with me? Openly?” He reached out and ran his
fingertips along her cheek.

She forced herself not to flinch. “Aye, I will leave a
regent to rule for as long as you desire me.”

“I will think about it. You ask much. I am not sure you are
worth it.” He walked away.

Lien watched Ardra and Samoht. The councilor looked like a
fox who’d made it into the henhouse. Ardra looked as cold as her ice.

What the hell had gone on between the two?

Samoht strode back to his sister. A slave offered them
fruit, and Einalem laughed over something Samoht said as he plucked an apple
from the bowl.

Lien thought about the alternative to being a pilgrim in
this world.
Slavery
. Handing bowls of fruit around, or worse, sold
anywhere to anyone for whatever purpose. If slavery appeared to be his lot
after Ardra’s eight days were over, he was going to leave. Permanently.

There wasn’t much in Ocean City to draw him home, but he
would be of little use to Ardra in chains.

Did he want to be of use to Ardra after this? And how could
he sleep at night in Ocean City worrying about her here in this world?

Even if he avoided slavery, he had little chance of passing
himself off as anything other than what he now was—a man on a pilgrimage. He
had no skills with weapons other than a stick.

As for allies…Ralen would follow Samoht’s orders. It was
what soldiers did. Nilrem would only commiserate and advise. Ardra would do
what she must to save her fortress from Samoht.

She would do whatever she must.
Bargain with the
devil if need be.
Damn.
Lien cut across the clearing toward Ardra.

Cidre intercepted him. “You do not eat, Lien. Are you not
hungry?” She smiled at him. She rubbed a finger across her lower lip. The rash
on his neck and wrists flashed hot, darts of pain ran down his back.

“Thank you, but no, I’m not hungry.” He sidestepped her and
joined Ralen, who headed for his horse, which was tethered to the one Samoht
had ridden, just one of many in a long string.

Ralen refused a cup of wine a slave offered him and said, “I
wonder if this boar hunt is an excuse to close the forest, trapping us all
here.”

“How can someone close a forest?” Lien looked overhead and
imagined the branches leaning in on one another, locking together in one solid
mass.

Ralen lowered his voice. “‘Tis said the goddess can cause
the paths to vanish, the vines to choke each passage. ‘Tis said a victim will
wander until he starves to death. Some say they have seen hapless victims roped
to the trees in vines.”

“Why are we standing here, then?”

Ralen shrugged. “We have little choice. Samoht certainly
gave
me
no choice about joining this hunt. It is a waste of time. Cidre
has led us around in circles.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You are full of questions.”

“If a pilgrim wears only this robe, what does he do when it
gets really hot outside?” He resisted an urge to claw at his neck where the
robe chafed his rash.

“He sweats,” Ralen said and grinned.

“Great.”

“Look—”

“Where?” Ralen asked.

“No. I didn’t mean actually
look
. I meant…never mind.
Ardra and Samoht were just talking. I think some agreement was made between
them. He looked way too smug when she walked away.”

Ralen’s whole body went stiff. “Agreement? What agreement
could they possibly…”

“Exactly. What bargain would they—”

“She has nothing to offer except—”

“Herself,” Lien finished as the idea popped into his head.
His stomach lurched almost as if he were on a roller coaster. “I’m going to
talk to Ardra.” He shoved past Ralen.

Men burst from the trees. They rushed in from the far side
of the clearing, swords and axes raised.

“Rebels!” Ralen shouted.

Lien whipped around. Ardra was across the clearing—too far
away.
Too far.
He set out anyway.

Einalem screamed and threw herself at Samoht. Cidre stood
frozen beside Venrali. Ollach swept Ardra behind him.

Every warrior drew his sword and met a rebel head-on.

Noise burst over Lien, his way clogged with fighting men.
Shrieks and screams echoed through the clearing.

He ducked beneath the rope holding the horses. He dropped to
the ground, crawled to his horse, and jerked his staff from the saddle. When he
shoved his horse’s rump aside, he stared in disbelief at the carnage around
him.

The attackers slashed and chopped at Ralen’s warriors. The
clearing swirled in a chaos of men and swinging weapons. Lien was pinned near
the stomping hooves of the heaving string of horses.

Einalem and Cidre huddled together behind Samoht. The
councilor held off two rebels with ferocious slashes of his sword.

The horse behind Lien reared. He pivoted just in time to see
a hairy man raise an ax. He thrust his stick up under the man’s arm into his
chest and snatched the ax as it fell. He heaved the ax into the dense woods.

He felt a blow reverberate along his stick into his hand and
shoulder.

He staggered around. Another man raised an ax; Lien jammed
his stick into the man’s throat. Blood gushed from the wound. With a look of
surprise, the man collapsed on his back.

Another marauder ran at the horses, who reared and slashed
with their huge hooves. Yet another man crawled on the ground toward the
mounts, a knife ready to cut them free.

Lien cracked his stick down on the man’s wrist. He howled
and scrambled back amid the horses’ hooves. In moments, the man was a bloody
wreck.

Ralen’s men formed a protective shield around the women and
Nilrem. The warriors fought, outnumbered two to one. Then Ardra pulled out her
eating dagger. She plunged it into the arm of a man who had breached the
warriors’ defenses. The man howled.

Cold cascaded through Lien. He used his stick to move
forward—to fend off another rebel’s advance on the horses. There was no way to
get to Ardra. Slaves huddled between her and him. Undefended slaves. Slaves cut
off from the rest of the party.

A rebel turned on the slaves, his ax upraised. Lien stepped
behind the attacker and jabbed his stick into the man’s kidneys. The man
dropped to his knees. An intrepid slave with a gap-toothed grin bashed the
gasping man on the head with a stone.

A moment later, the end of Lien’s stick was lopped off by
the swinging blade of another rebel. It happened in slow motion, the blade
sweeping down, leaving the stick half its former length.

Lien raised it to parry another blow, then at the last
moment rolled aside. The rebel turned on the cowering slaves.

Two warriors ran past the slaves and joined the defense of
Samoht and Einalem.

The charging rebel grinned through his ragged beard. He gave
a low laugh and slashed at the slaves with his sword, taunting the men who were
unable to defend themselves.

Without thought, Lien swung his stick across the back of the
man’s knees. The rebel fell. When he rolled onto his back, Lien planted his
boot in the man’s groin.

Another rebel rushed the defenseless slaves. Lien faced him.

He held the howling rebel off, parried the man’s sword
blows, jamming his stick up under the man’s swinging sword.

Suddenly the rebel reeled back, and Lien hit him in the
chin. The man sagged, blood gushing from his mouth, and lay still.

The gap-toothed slave jerked the sword from the rebel’s
grasp. He joined Lien in holding off the rebels attacking either the horses or
the slaves.

The rebels fought with ferocious intensity, driving the
women and warriors along the path. The ragged company howled and pushed,
slashing their axes indiscriminately into the flesh of horses and men.

Einalem broke from the circle of protection. She ran across
Lien’s path. He grabbed her cloak and tossed her behind him into the kneeling
slaves just as an ax embedded itself in a tree by her head.

A giant man with a huge sword ran like a madman after her.

Lien met him, just as he would an opponent running full-tilt
toward the goal. They hit in a clash of bodies. Lien parried every sword thrust
with his stick, using only instinct to hold the man back. If the rebel got by,
the slaves were dead.

Lien’s stick shattered, carrying him backward to land with a
thud on his back.

The giant raised his sword and grinned. Then his eyes went
wide. He slapped his hand to his neck where a small blade protruded. Lien took
the opportunity to lift the shattered end of his stick and crush the man’s
hand. His sword fell from his grip. With a gurgle of anger, he bent down, groping
for his blade.

Ralen ran up and with a mighty swing of his sword, ended the
rebel’s life.

The warrior thrust his dagger into Lien’s hand. But it
wasn’t needed. The rebels had lost their will with the giant’s death. They
backed away, disappeared among the trees, and sprinted off on nearly invisible
paths.

Cidre ran to Lien. Her eyes were bright blue and wide, her
hands questing over his bloody robe. “Did he hurt you?” She glanced at the
giant by Lien’s feet.

“No. I’m fine. But others aren’t.” Lien carefully
disentangled himself and set her aside, removing the acid burn of her hand.

He turned in a haze and looked for Ardra. She knelt by a
warrior, bandaging an arm. Something ferocious inside him settled.

Then he saw it—the small dagger protruding from the giant’s
neck. Lien’s legs were suddenly shaky. He bent over the giant and jerked the
blade from the man’s neck.

It was Ardra’s eating dagger. Adrenaline pumped its way
through his body again.
Ardra
had thrown the knife. And saved his life.

He wiped the blade on his sleeve, walked straight to Ardra,
and touched the crown of her head.

She looked up. Her amber eyes were liquid gold, wide, not
dazed like those of the injured man she helped, but determined.

“Thank you.” It was all he could say as he gave her back her
knife.