Waterdance (13 page)

The people of Darnalek looked as worn and neglected as their city. A few thin, sickly children played apathetically in doorways or in the filthy gutters. The adults leaning in the doorways or windows and staring lethargically at nothing in particular, or shuffling wearily along at the side of the narrow lane, looked as drab and thin and unhealthy as the youngsters.

A gasp made Peri turn and glance at Atheris. The shock in his expression was plain as his eyes flitted over the dismal scene.

“I have never been so far south before,” Atheris said, very softly. “I had no idea things had gotten so bad here.”

Irra glanced back at him.

“Some of the towns are better,” she said. “Our well taps a very deep spring and there is less demand made on it. But little grows on the farms. There is no life left in the soil even that far to the north.”

Atheris made a small sound of dismay, and Peri was surprised by his distinctly guilty expression. What in the world was he bothered about? He’d said himself that he’d never been this far south before. Whatever had blighted this land had obviously happened long ago, probably during the war, and Atheris looked young enough that he’d probably not even been born then.

“If you are familiar with Darnalek,” he said, very quietly, “and could direct us to an inn, I would be most grateful.”

Minyat and Irra exchanged glances.

“There are a number of respectable inns,” Minyat said slowly. “But—” He glanced at Peri and fell silent.

“Ah,” Atheris said softly. “I see.”

“I have a cousin who lives here with his wife,” Irra said at last. “He does not run an inn, only a stable, but he has a large loft he sometimes rents to boarders of good character. If I speak to him, I am certain he would sympathize with the plight of a warrior disfigured in the defense of the country, and especially one who has rendered us such kindly service.”

“You are too kind,” Atheris murmured, but he said it absently, still gazing out, brooding, over that terrible half-dead city. He looked so deeply shaken that without thinking, Peri reached out and took his hand, squeezing his fingers. Atheris glanced at her, startled, then mustered a faint smile. Peri felt her cheeks heat under the rags, but it was too late to withdraw the gesture.

Thankfully the southern fringe of the city nearest the least-used gate was apparently the worst of it; the buildings nearer the center of the city showed somewhat better care, at least enough that Peri stopped worrying that the roof might tumble down on their heads or the floor fall out from under them in the night. A few of the shops even had a touch of color to them, paint on the signs or a swath of colorful cloth curtaining the window, and once or twice a more appetizing aroma reached her nose even over the stench of the gutters.

Minyat stopped the wagon outside a house that appeared not terribly shabby. Glancing apologetically at Peri and Atheris, Irra climbed out of the wagon by herself. A homely, tired-looking woman answered her knock on the door, smiling at Irra in welcome, and they talked quietly for a few moments. At one point during the conversation, the woman glanced uncuriously at the wagon and its passengers, then returned to her quiet interchange with Irra. At last she nodded, waiting in the doorway while Irra stepped back to the wagon.

“My cousin Orren is gone to the market for the morning, trading for feed,” Irra said apologetically. “Lina says you are welcome to the loft, and for board and breakfast and supper she will charge you four sestis a day for the both of you, or two for board without meals. An inn would cost you at least five.”

“The lady’s offer is more than generous,” Atheris said quickly. He pulled out his pack and Peri’s. “And we thank you both for the transport and your kind efforts on our behalf. May Eregis favor you both with prosperity, and may your cure be swift and easy, lady.”

Peri simply climbed out of the wagon after Atheris, patting Irra’s hand and nodding to Minyat. They followed Lina silently into the house; to Peri’s surprise, the woman barred the door behind them although it was only late afternoon.

“Madmen, murderers, and thieves,” Lina said briefly. “No one is safe. Come, I will show you to the loft.”

When Lina opened the door at the top of a flight of stairs, Peri sighed, blessing the good luck that had led her to Minyat and Irra. The loft was huge, covering the house and stable alike, plain but clean; fortunately the nights were warm enough that the single small coal brazier would heat it sufficiently. There was no bed, but straw mattresses on the wooden floor would make pallets certainly more comfortable than the ground. The latching door was thick and solid, as were the floor and walls, and stout shutters fastened over the windows; here, at least, Peri could speak and even practice her swordplay with little fear of being overheard. Even the nasty smell from the gutters and the more familiar aroma of horses and manure from the stables wasn’t too bad up here with the shutters closed.

“This will more than suffice,” Atheris told Lina, although Peri somehow had the suspicion he’d have said the same if the woman had shown them to a closet full of lice. “We are most grateful for your hospitality, lady.” He pulled out a few of the pounded bits of gold. “I regret we have no sestis. If this gold will not suffice to pay a week’s board and food in advance, I could quickly change it for coin for you.”

Lina silently picked up one of the bits, eyeing it critically, unfazed; then she nodded, scooping up the other bits.

“Gold will do,” she said briefly. “Chamber pot’s in the corner. I’ll bring you up a bucket of water. No guests in the room. You get drunk and break things, you go. Breakfast at dawn, supper at sundown. We don’t open that door sunset to sunrise, so be in by dark or not at all.”

She glanced at Peri and her expression softened slightly.

“You’ve had a bad journey, I can see,” she said. “I’ll bring up some bread and cheese with your water. It’s still a few hours to supper.”

“Thank you most kindly, lady,” Atheris said, still absently; he waited almost impatiently until Lina returned with the bucket and a covered basket, and as soon as she was gone, he latched the door and turned to Peri.

“Now that we are out of the wagon, the Bone Hunters can find us if they try,” he said. “I must protect this room. But it must be your blood to set the spell.”

Peri remembered how much that spell had weakened her the first time and rolled up her sleeve rather reluctantly.

“Why mine?” she said.

“Because one of us must remain within the wards to sustain the spell,” he said, “and one of us must go out tomorrow and find a mage and purchase better protections and supplies. And you cannot speak in the city, and you have no knowledge of the magic we will need, so it must be you who stays.” He grimaced slightly. “I doubt that my errands in this city will be so enjoyable as to leave you envious of my freedom.”

Peri thought of those stinking, narrow lanes and the gray denizens of Darnalek and shivered.

“All right,” she said. “I can’t argue with that.”

When Atheris had drawn a little of her blood and sprinkled the edges of the loft, Peri kindled a small fire in the brazier and set the bread and cheese to toast while she relievedly discarded her robe and bandages.

“I don’t suppose there’s any chance of a bath?” she asked wistfully.

Atheris shook his head.

“Our host and hostess most likely have a steamhouse,” he said. “Coal is cheap enough but water is precious. If the steamhouse is inside the building, you will still be inside the wards. Or use what is in the bucket, if you prefer.”

Peri glanced into the bucket and grimaced. The water was not too murky, but it had an odor, a flat, dead smell that she didn’t like; she hesitated even to wash herself with the stuff, especially with the healing cuts on her arm.

“A sweathouse is fine,” she said, shrugging. Danber’s clan used sweat tents when water was scarce—hardly an infrequent occurrence on Bregond’s dry plains—and a good long steaming sounded appealing in this rather cold and dismal city. She set the bucket aside. Atheris would simply have to buy more wine, or good water, if he could find it, while he was roaming the streets of decaying Darnalek tomorrow. And while he was at it, he could price horses. The Bright Ones knew they had gold enough to purchase a couple of nags sound enough to get them back to Bregond.

Atheris went downstairs to consult with Lina and returned with the news that a steamhouse was indeed available at a slight additional cost, which he had paid with a tiny shaving of gold, and he had brought back clean cloths and a bowl of soft soap.

“I mean you no disrespect,” he said, glancing at Peri sideways, “but it would rouse suspicion if we wasted the water to use the steamhouse separately.”

Peri disliked that idea intensely, and Atheris’s spell had left her tired and lethargic, but the prospect of relative cleanliness, even though she had no fresh clothes to wear, was too tempting.

“All right,” she said shortly, but when she took the bundle of their gold with them, she took her dagger, too. She wouldn’t spoil her sword in the heat and moisture of a sweathouse, but as her mother said, there was a word for people who took even a few steps outside their front door unarmed. And if anybody thought Peri an easy mark, she’d teach them that word.

The loft was so bare that Peri had to search for some time before she found a crack in the eaves in which she could hide her sword. She didn’t bother to hide the healer’s bag, although it was probably the most valuable thing they owned, apart from the gold. Fate had dropped it unwanted into her hands; if somebody stole it, she wouldn’t complain.

The sweathouse was a tiny room, hardly larger than a big closet; Peri could see that its size had been reduced, most likely to conserve the precious water. Lina had lit the brazier, and the coals (and the room) were already quite hot; Peri scooped out a dipper of water and sprinkled it over the metal grate, producing the first hissing cloud of steam. She turned away from Atheris and undressed briskly, settling herself on one of the benches and drawing her knees up in front of her. She should’ve thought, she realized, to wear the loincloth she kept in her emergency pack to hold the rags on her moon days. She’d never felt self-conscious in the sweat tents of her clan, shared by men and women alike to conserve water, but Atheris was no clansman. This was a Sarkond.

Atheris undressed slowly, apparently as reluctant as Peri, keeping his back turned, but for the life of her Peri couldn’t resist peeping at him out of the corner of her eyes. When she’d tended the wound in his side she’d noted his wiry muscle, and now she couldn’t help a certain reluctant admiration. He didn’t have Danber’s robust bulk, but there was nothing of the soft city mage about him; his dusky skin was stretched tightly over muscles that silently boasted of long hours of sword practice. Sweat and condensation ran down his back and his skin gleamed; Peri took a deep breath, helplessly watching the droplets’ descent—then, as Atheris sat down, she glimpsed something that shocked her healer’s sense into a clamor.

“Bright Ones, what happened to you?” Peri said, rolling back to her feet, modesty completely forgotten. She pushed Atheris’s hands aside, gaping at the straight, narrow scar running down his chest from just below his collarbone to a point just above his groin. “You look like somebody gutted you!”

Atheris hurriedly turned sideways on the bench, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around them, hiding the scar.

“It happened many years ago,” he said stiffly. “It is none of your affair.”

Peri sat back down on her bench, shivering. The scar was too thin and even to be a battle wound or even hasty field surgery, and Peri could think of no illness or injury that would require such extensive cutting anyway. That horrible wound had been deliberately made. She thought of the blood spells Atheris had cast, and the burn scars on her mother’s hands, and her stomach heaved.

“That’s something to do with your magic, isn’t it?” she said sickly. “By Mahdha, Atheris, you said women’s magic was life magic. Just what kind of magic is it men use? Death magic? Necromancy?”

Atheris turned eyes full of pure outrage on her, then looked away again. When he spoke, his voice was tight and controlled. “Necromancy is an obscenity,” he said acidly. “You could perhaps call men’s magic death magic, since female mages are barred from those arts of death which would taint their power—battle magics and combat. It is true that my magic retains a link with death, for I had to allow death to touch me”—he touched the long scar pensively—“to fully understand and master the energies of life.” He ran his fingers slowly down that narrow line, his eyes closing. “It is a test that leaves its mark upon the spirit even more than the body.”

Peri grimaced. She wanted to ask him whether he’d let someone else cut him open, or whether he’d done it himself—and then she realized she didn’t want to know. To cover her confusion she turned away and dumped another dipperful of water on the grate, producing a new cloud of steam. Sweat and condensed water slickened her skin and she dug soap from the bowl, scrubbing roughly while she gathered her thoughts.

“You think me a monster,” Atheris said after a long silence. “Some evil demon who lives to cause death. But you are wrong. I have never used my magic to deliberately cause harm to another, although I do not deny I have the ability to do so. Only the Bone Hunters and battle mages use their power to such a purpose. And I had no desire to become either.”

Atheris dug soap out of the bowl and began lathering his skin slowly, as if choosing his words carefully.

“The difference in our magics,” he said slowly, “lies mainly in their source. Women draw their magic—the power of healing and growth—from within themselves. It is a power that gives life where there was none before. Men draw upon the energies of life that exist within all living things, themselves or others, such as the spells you have seen me cast. It is a magic that takes life, molds it, uses it. Do you see?”

Peri shivered. Now she regretted allowing Atheris to use her blood for the protective spell he’d cast upstairs; it seemed somehow unclean.