White Blood (21 page)

Maryn couldn’t scream. She could only stare in horror, clutching Barilan tight, until Carlich pushed past her, gasping for breath. “Come on.” He crouched to unbuckle the guard’s belt, then slung it around his own waist, settling the sword at his side. He drew it, made a few cuts at the air, and slid it back into its sheath. After a quick glance up and down the deserted street he pulled the keys from the belt and unlocked the gate.

Carlich waved for Maryn to exit as he pushed the gate open. She edged through, giving the lifeless guard as wide a berth as she could. Carlich grabbed the guard’s body under the arms and dragged him into some tall grass just beyond the gate. “With any luck, no one will notice he’s missing until he fails to report back after his shift. We’d better be miles away by then.” He locked the gate behind them and set off, but turned back impatiently when Maryn did not move. “Follow me.”

Numb with horror, Maryn trailed after him. She fought to escape the compulsion to obey, but though the spell had faded enough to free her thoughts it was still too strong for her body to disobey a direct order.

The path slanted across the grassy meadow that extended a bowshot beyond the wall and into a tangle of trees and underbrush. Carlich followed it and Maryn plodded behind. They descended a steep slope. Ahead Maryn glimpsed a sunny break in the trees and heard splashing and cheerful voices.

Carlich held up a hand for Maryn to wait, then slipped from tree to tree until he could see. He backtracked to where Maryn waited. “There’s a whole crowd of them down there. Too many to deal with before one manages to raise the alarm.” He looked at the thick underbrush. “No help for it.” He pushed between two bushes, and Maryn was forced to go along.

Branches tore at her clothing and slapped her face. She nearly turned an ankle when her foot came down on a large stone that shifted beneath her weight. Barilan fussed, and she worked to soothe him. His diaper was soaked, but she dared not ask Carlich to stop.

After a long struggle through the dense growth, they emerged on the riverbank. The river was wide, much wider than the one that circled Ralo. Out in the middle were a few ships. Maryn hoped someone on board might look out and see them, but they were too far away for her to consider that a realistic possibility.

A narrow path ran along the bank a few feet from the edge of the water. Carlich turned onto it and quickened his step. Maryn struggled to keep up.

Before long, though, Maryn noticed that Carlich was dragging, too. His shoulders drooped, and occasionally he stumbled. The city walls still rose beyond the trees to their left and the sun was just reaching its highest point when he turned aside into a small clearing among the trees and called a halt.

Maryn sank gratefully to a seat on a fallen tree trunk. Barilan was bright and happy after their morning’s walk, but she was exhausted. Somewhere in there she’d lost a night’s sleep, she was fairly sure. But she must take care of Barilan. At least this time she had water and a fresh diaper to put on him.

While she tended to that duty Carlich warded the clearing. He passed her a few apples and some cheese he’d brought along from the storeroom. “Enjoy. This is the last of it.” He rubbed his forehead. “I hope the wards hold. Casual eyes won’t see us, but a determined search might. That guard is going to be found sooner or later, and they’ll set dogs on our track.” He shook his head. “But I’ve got to get a little sleep. An hour or two at least.” He waved a hand at Maryn. “Lie down. Get some rest.”

The need to obey was not quite so strong this time. Maryn compliantly lay down on the ground, but she could have resisted for a few moments if she’d tried. Perhaps while Carlich slept the power of his spell would drop off even further, and she could break free.

She clung to that hope when she woke to Barilan’s hungry cries. By the sun it was early afternoon. Carlich still slept. Gathering Barilan to her breast, she quieted his wails. Maryn watched Carlich intently and held her breath as she eased to her feet. He hadn’t specifically told her to remain in the clearing, and she’d completed his last command to get some rest. It felt like wading through thick mud to step down toward the river path, but she could do it. Once she was well away she’d run. How long would it take to get to the washing place? Would the women still be there?

She hit something that felt like cobwebs across her face. Sticky threads entangled her feet, wrapping tighter the more she struggled. Blue lightning buzzed around her. Carlich jerked awake and leaped to his feet, every muscle tense.

Seeing only Maryn, he relaxed a fraction. “Thought you’d get away, did you?” He came to her, dissolving the invisible strands with a wave. “We’d better renew the binding right now, before you try anything else foolish.”

She cursed herself silently for forgetting about the wards as he cut her arm and used her blood to thrust her again into a dull daze. After, her thoughts were so tightly bound she couldn’t even feel miserable.

They spent the rest of the afternoon working their way upriver. Carlich kept eyeing the occasional two- or three-man fishing boats out on the river, but not until the sun was getting low did he act.

“There.” Carlich halted so abruptly Maryn nearly collided with him. “Stand back. Stay quiet.” He glanced at the sleeping Barilan. “Once we’re across the river they’ll never find us.”

Maryn was just getting enough thought back to know that she should try to cry out and warn the unsuspecting fishers whose boat had strayed so close to the shore. But she couldn’t yet even make the attempt. She could only watch, quiet as he had commanded her to be.

Carlich killed the fishermen much the same way he’d killed the guard, except this time the streak of lightning pierced them both in a single flash. The boat began to drift when the man holding the rudder collapsed. Carlich attempted to seize it and draw it closer to shore, but the blood he’d gathered from his arm ran out of power. Cursing, he dove into the river and swam out to the little boat. It nearly capsized as he clambered aboard. Carlich shoved a body aside, unshipped the oars, and stroked the boat into the shore.

There was a rope fastened to the prow; he tossed it to Maryn. “Get that. Tie it around one of those trees.”

Maryn obeyed. Carlich rummaged around the bottom of the boat. “They had a decent catch. That will feed us for a while. Here, this should serve.” He picked up a wooden bait bucket and dumped its contents overboard. “Put Barilan down somewhere safe and come help me.”

Maryn wouldn’t have considered anywhere along the riverbank safe enough to leave a baby alone if she’d been making the decision. But the magical compulsion forced her to choose the best spot available. A little grassy hollow well back from the water looked as if it would do. Barilan could roll over, but he hadn’t yet begun to crawl, so he wouldn’t be able to move far even if he woke. She wished for a blanket to shield him against the damp ground, but she had nothing. She laid him down; he stirred for a moment before sinking back into sleep.

Back at the boat, Carlich summoned her aboard. He hauled at the body of one fisherman. “Grab his feet,” he ordered.

Maryn thought she might vomit, but she took up the man’s limp legs, and they lifted him onto one of the boards that spanned the boat and served as a seat. Carlich arranged him so his head and torso hung down on one side. “Hold on to him; don’t let him slip.”

He positioned the empty bucket under the man’s neck, and with a quick slash of his knife cut his throat. Blood drained out in a gush. Maryn’s head swam, and she had to turn away.

Carlich fussed with the body as the flow slowed to a trickle, raising its limbs so that the force of the stream was increased. When for all his manipulation he could extract no more blood from the body, he spoke sharply to Maryn and she was compelled to help him heave the corpse over the side of the boat into the water.

Dimly Maryn heard Barilan’s forlorn cries from the shore. She turned automatically and stepped toward the prow of the boat. Carlich scowled. He looked up and down the empty river and deserted shore. “He’ll be fine. Ignore him. You can get him when we’re done here.”

The spell forced Maryn to turn back and bend to aid Carlich in his work, though her heart felt torn as the miserable wails continued, and a warm rush of milk drenched the front of her shift. They repeated the process of draining blood with the other fisherman. By the time the man’s body splashed into the river and sank out of sight, the hour was growing late.

Carlich surveyed the products of their work with satisfaction; the bucket was more than three;-;quarters full of thick red liquid. “Let Voerell try to catch me now. I could hold off an army with this.” He gestured at Maryn. “Get Barilan and bring him aboard. I need to make sure this doesn’t turn into a clotted mess, and set wards to keep the specters out. Then we can head across the river.”

Maryn had grown increasingly worried about Barilan all during the time Carlich had kept her working. At some point his cries had ceased, and she quaked with fear for what might have befallen him. Now, freed by Carlich’s words, she scrambled for the prow and jumped to shore, ignoring the buzz of power behind her.

Barilan had rolled and squirmed a few feet from where she’d left him. His face was red and blotched with grimy tracks of dried tears. He broke into fresh wails as soon as he spotted Maryn and reached for her as she gathered him up. Guilt assailed her at the thought of him crying for her all that long lonely time, until at last he gave up and sank into the despairing misery of the abandoned. She clutched him to her breast. “I’m sorry, little one. I wanted to come, but I couldn’t. I’ll take care of you, as much as I can, as much as he lets me…”

She thought about attempting again to flee, but the spell was still too strong. She trudged down the bank to the boat.

Carlich looked up from where he was just completing his spell. “Climb in and let’s get going.” He set the lid firmly on the bucket and stowed it carefully in the stern. As soon as Maryn and Barilan were settled on the rear seat, he untied the prow rope and took up the oars. He grimaced as the many cuts on his left hand contacted the rough wood of the oar. “Tear another bit off your skirt for me.”

Maryn perforce complied. He wrapped the long scrap of linen around his palm and tied it, pulling on the free end with his teeth. “That will help a little. I’ve got to find some healer who’s willing to teach me more of the art. They’re all so close;-;mouthed with anyone who’s not subject to their oaths and binding spells.” He set his hands to the oars and began to pull with powerful strokes toward the middle of the river.

The current pushed them downstream as they cut across the wide expanse. When they veered close to a large trading vessel headed upstream, Carlich paused for a moment to dip a little blood from the bucket and work shielding wards around the boat. Maryn was hungry enough that the mass of fish crowded into the large wooden tank amidships looked appealing, but not yet so hungry she was willing to try how they would taste raw. Barilan kept her busy, his mood by turns irritable and playful.

The pace of Carlich’s rowing slowed, and several times he went to the bucket for a dab of blood. He’d wave and mutter, blue sparks would fly, and he’d bend to his task with renewed energy. But each time the effect was shorter;-;lived.

Near sunset, they reached the far side. Carlich dragged with weariness as he moored the boat at a convenient tree and hauled his precious bucket up the rocky bank. He staggered as he deposited it under a tree. Rubbing at his eyes, he sank to the ground. “Give me Barilan,” he ordered hoarsely. “I think it’s safe to make a small fire. There must be flint and steel on the boat somewhere. Find it, cook us some of that fish.”

Maryn reluctantly surrendered the sleeping Barilan into his arms. Her volition was beginning to trickle back, enough that she could think with sufficient clarity to conceal its return. She set industriously about the tasks Carlich had set her, terrified lest any hesitation on her part warn him that his spell was losing effect. Searching the boat, she discovered a box under the front bench where the fishermen had stowed their gear. In addition to a fire;-;starting kit she found a filleting knife, a frying pan, and a small flask of oil, along with a flagon of ale.

Maryn eyed the knife thoughtfully and shot a glance over at Carlich. He had his eyes closed, his head leaned back against the tree, while Barilan slumbered in his arms. She tested to see if she might be able to hide the knife away under her skirts. She couldn’t quite manage it, but she thought she might be able to soon, if Carlich didn’t notice the weapon and order her not to use it.

She spent a long time starting and building up a small fire, and wielded the knife as unobtrusively as possible to clean and gut several of the fish. She rinsed the knife in the river and wiped it on the grass. She still couldn’t force her hands to hide it on her person, but she did, with much effort, tuck it under a bush on the far side of the clearing from where Carlich drowsed. She returned to the fire, heated oil in the pan, and put the fish in to fry.

The smell set her mouth watering long before the fish were ready. She burned her fingers and tongue sampling a flaky white bit. Just as she was about to decide they were cooked enough, Carlich stirred and came over to stand beside her, looking down at her handiwork. She gestured to where she’d set the flagon. “I found some ale, my lord. The fish are almost done.”

“Excellent.” Carlich seated himself cross;-;legged by the fire and set Barilan in his lap. He uncorked the flagon and took a long swig. “Gallows, I needed that.” He thrust the bottle out toward Maryn. “Here, have a drink. You deserve it after your hard work.”

She accepted it obediently, though she squirmed within at the warm camaraderie in his tone. She only worked on his behalf because he forced her to. But if he wanted to fool himself into believing she was a willing partner in his flight, let him. It could only make it easier for her to escape. She feigned taking a long, thirsty draught of ale, though in truth she only sipped until she had swallowed the minimum required to fulfill the enforcing magic’s idea of “a drink,” and the compulsion waned.