by A. S. Etaski
I did not slow, for my swift and light touch with my feet meant a quicker recovery if I skidded or tripped. For as long as I made less noise than the beasts above me, they covered my escape.
Escape from whom or where—or when—I had only a fragment of a clue.
I opened my eyes lying next to a disconcertingly cool, Human body who did not seem to be breathing. His eyes were closed, his long, pointed nose aimed toward the creaking ceiling. My arm was outstretched and trapped beneath his tan-brown neck, gripping tough leather and bulk of something next to his far shoulder where I could not see at first.
As was often the case, I did not have to look to figure it out. I could feel my spiders crawling over my wrist, nestling, tickling me on purpose. They were trying to get my attention.
*Ssirranna… Can you hear me?*
Fuck.
Gavin lay heavy and comatose, breathing only once every several minutes as I watched and waited like a frightened rabbit. I slowly lost feeling in my arm, which removed the stubbornness of my grip, and I tugged like a tree-gnawer attempting to extricate its limb from a trap.
*Sssooo clossse…*
I rolled away from Gavin, my brow damp with sweat, as I waited for my arm to cease tingling before testing the flex of my fingers again.
“Damn you,” I whispered.
My guardians had hopped off when I pulled free, crossing over Gavin’s chest to join me. I was able to see the bundle containing the red rune blade partly extracted from Gavin’s pack, one of the knots loosened by plucking fingers. Presumably, mine as I slept.
I considered reaching for those leather thongs—to retie the knot, to prove I’d won the test of wills again, and I could return it how it had been. I could prove didn’t need Gavin or Mourn to do it for me like some weak woman or child, couldn’t I? I scoffed at myself, reaching immediately for my food. Just hubris goading me, for I hadn’t stopped looking for a way to approach the bundle safely.
There is no safe way. Soul Drinker would only laugh.
I ate a lot; it took a while to quiet my rudely woken stomach. As I sipped the good water which recalled for me the peaceful river where we’d stayed, I told my fretting spiders, ~I am fine. Nothing bad happened.~
This time.
After I’d used the relief bucket as well, an odd rumble sounded above me on the deck. I thought instantly of my dream. The shrouded woman pointing a way to escape without harm to Gavin, me, or my unborn. As I’d woken reaching for Soul Drinker as it spoke to me, could there be something to this waking sound, something real infiltrating my dreams as the rune dagger had or as I had done to Gavin?
I peered around the hold, at the reclined man and his steed wobbling on her hooves, at the cargo shifting within its ropes. What time of night was it? It was not day; the hold did not have a hint of diffused sunlight leaking through the closed cargo door which doubled as the deck.
Where is Mourn, anyway?
The rumble above came again, and I secured my food after grabbing a snack pouch, rolling with the ship to gain my feet, and moved quickly to resist drifting to one side. I took to the ladder as the in-motion alternative to the loading ramp, which was inaccessible after having been winched up against the underside of the deck.
Two small platforms up, I listened outside the trap door before peeking out, spotting the last, retreating daylight behind the ship. How odd it must seem that the Trickster’s passengers went willingly down into the cargo hold and stayed put for the entire day. I should not have slept so long, from dawn to dusk. That was longer than any healthy Human, longer than when I’d been at my most ill following the warp rot cleansing.
What happened?
Should I be worried? Had Gavin been “meditating” all this time or had he risen while I slept then returned later? Was something wrong with him? Should I go check?
And do what? Check his pulse? Press on his heart to make it beat? It’s not like I have another silver dagger to remove.
I sighed, watching the evening activity. I was sure Mourn wasn’t down here, and neither Gavin nor Nightmare made any noise, yet plenty of smelly men worked on deck by lantern light, shouting to each other and plodding heavily atop the damp boards.
I smelled hot food being prepared somewhere nearby, motivating the crew to finish up. I waited until most shuffled off to the mess for their meal. I did not glimpse Mourn’s Noiri face among them.
Has he changed his face again?
As the first stars shone through gradually dissipating clouds in a moonless sky, I left the hold with hood up, guardians again beneath my hair, trying not to look too far out at the vastness after glimpsing no land. The air was certainly fresher than below, and the ship seemed to cut through the water at great speed. I avoided the railing where the shush of the water below was loudest.
There was a plethora of deeper shadows to aim for which helped me focus and evade a random sailor. Hugging them and the center of the vessel, I stepped as light as I could on a constantly moving vessel, swallowing down a lurch in my stomach.
The front of the ship was empty of men for now; no one stood at the railing, though my straining ears again detected that low, dream-like rumble toward the rear, up on that higher deck. I reversed course and followed the sound, approaching the stairs with caution as I believed a low male voice responded. I questioned my certainty that it had been an answer to a question; I questioned if these were real words, at all.
Eventually, I peeked onto the upper deck. There he is.
The black-haired Noiri was frowning at the center point of the deck, his shoulders squared, hands fisted loosely. I rather wished I could see whether his tail would be dancing or not. Then he turned his head my way and breathed out like he’d been holding it and made a gesture of greeting that a Davrin would understand.
I climbed the rest of the stairs, looked around, and found us alone.
“Sleep well?” he asked, approaching the railing, resting his weight on his elbows and looking out at the water.
I arched one brow, sweeping the deck again with my senses. “With whom were you speaking?”
Mourn tilted his head. “No one. I’ve eaten. Just relaxing.”
“Oh, really?” I approached on his right side, neither touching the railing nor glancing down at the rippling lake. Ugh. “It seemed the right time to leave Gavin and me unconscious? There was nothing unfortunate that could happen?”
“Your spiders were guarding you,” he pointed out. “You were safe.”
“Ah. I fell asleep with them secured. You let them out?”
“I did.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I heard something, first down below and then above. A rumble. Too low to say what it was, but I thought it came from you, or one around here. You acted like someone was here.”
Mourn’s surprise seemed real. “Hm. Could have been the ship groaning.”
“Do not insult me, mercenary.”
“Or it was the song of a deep swimmer below our feet.”
“Unpleasant to imagine.”
“But true. They exist.”
“Under my feet is not its origin, and you are deflecting.” I crossed my arms. “Can you offer anything other than I was ‘imagining’ it, bua?”
Mourn shrugged, his Human mouth in a straight line. “The Great Lake has many mysteries. Sailing near the Archipelago can bring strange dreams to mages sensitive to the Ley Lines. I do not doubt the Deathwalker will see things. And now you, apparently.”
I frowned. Should I tell him about the dream I’d had? Or is that privacy for Gavin like in the shed? “I say again, I am not a mage.”
The half-breed checked around us then hand signed, *You are a Baenar who uses magic gems. That may be enough.*
I exhaled but ignored the oblique reference to the Ma’ab ruby. *Has it begun, the place of strange dreams?*
Mourn decided to speak this part in Trade. “It seems so. We are making faster time than the Captain expected. The next three
days could see different dangers arise: a sudden storm, reverse currents or whirlpools, hidden reefs just below the surface at low tide. This was the quiet day, though the two on the far side of the island chain should be better as well. I am glad you were able to rest.”
I smirked, gingerly resting on my elbows as well, mimicking how the hybrid was moving with the ship. Better. I wasn’t fighting it every moment.
“Seems all I am doing around you is resting. How could I sleep all day this first time on a ship? You did not do anything to encourage it, did you?”
*Not beyond feeding some rats to the horse to keep her smell down,* he replied in sign with a straight face. *It seems clear to me why. If you rested only a quarter of each night since you surfaced, were never safe among the men you travelled with, suffered at their hands when in dire need of escape—*
I lifted one hand. *You may cease bringing that up. It is not an excuse for continued weakness.*
Mourn seemed to weigh debating that but chose the practical part first. *Even without the daily threat, fighter-matas will need longer rest than a fighter on her own, sooner or later. The lack of it compounds on itself until she falls into Reverie for a week.*
The hybrid stopped signing while I chewed on my cheek in thought. *You have experience with fighter-matas?*
His massive shoulders lifted. *A little.*
*A squadmate? You mentioned those.*
He nodded but, unlike when Gavin had asked about cities, Mourn was not eager to tell me explain. Instead, he finally asked the inevitable.
“I have most of what I need to close my contracts with the Ma’ab in Augran. I am only missing the Ridhian.”
My hand grappled for the ruby in my pouch. There it is.
“You know its name?”
He levelled a dry look at me. “I am surprised you do.”
Another test, damn him.
“Soul Drinker told me.”
“Ah. Your resistance to giving it up makes sense.”
“What, because I’m listening the dagger?” I retorted. “No, it made sense before that. I told you, the Ma’ab and the Deathless used it against me three or four times!”
“That many?”
I couldn’t tell if Mourn intended to play ignorant to keep me talking, but it worked as I snarled in frustration. “You watched us the first time in the canyon!”
“Yes. Your resistance while trapped in the webbing was impressive.”
“But not without its limits.”
“I believe you. What of the other attempts?”
“Inside the inn where you didn’t see. First the sorcerer in his quarters, then him and the Ma’ab trying harder in a pile!”
His mouth tightened; he lowered his gaze briefly. “I am sorry this happened, Sirana. I underestimated both the innkeeper’s threat to you and the strength of your alliance with the Deathwalker. I expected you to leave quickly. As I hear more what occurred and why you stayed, I am amazed it did not go worse.”
“But it could have gone better,” I said, tinged with bitterness. “Any pregnant Davrin would have ‘finished’ it, remember?”
He did not blink at being reminded. “I regret that I questioned your actions. I did not know of the rape when I said that. There is no ‘better’ way to act after surviving that violence on body and mind. As you remind me, I wasn’t there. I would have interfered had I been but, given my own path to survival, I might have also provoked something for which none were prepared, if this Deathless is what you say.”
Another oblique reference to his Matron-Aunt? Or something else? I shook my head and shrugged, trying to calm down. Despite my insistence that the attack in the kitchen was not an excuse for my recent lethargy, I was certainly talking about it a lot.
And he’s listening. Drawing back on his assumptions without reluctance or hubris. He has nothing to prove.
“I have no idea what the Deathless is,” I said, ready to move on. “I only met Cris-ri-phon in disguise, and he had been ‘asleep’ for a long time.”
Mourn checked around us again for lurkers. I did the same. Then he asked, “Did the sorcerer tell you how he came to his immortality?”
“No. I am not certain he knows, but the relic is a strong motive to search for and keep, for he’d gifted it to his queen once, earned on a quest to be worthy. Brom Troshin recruited the Ma’ab to help him find it again in this last century.”
And he might have recently spoken with that queen, if she’s real…
“How did you learn this?”
“From him, from his Ma’ab daughter, the relic itself.” I paused, but didn’t add, From his dreams.
“Do you have any hint at all how it started?”
My mouth split into an ironic smile. “With a ‘wedding,’ I heard, followed by half-blood children born to a Davrin queen. Many were hostile to this but hid their faces from view. Eventually, the queen and her children were assassinated. Cris-ri-phon lived, somehow.”
Though, what had this to do with my dream of him and Toushek meeting that skeleton in the isolated prison? I didn’t know which happened first.
Mourn let the silence stretch but returned to where we started soon enough. “Sirana, what do you want for the ruby pendant?”
I don’t know.
“Start with where it came from,” I said. “Given how much trouble it’s caused me.”
He sighed. “Kurn Divigna stole the Ridhian after raping and killing a Ma’ab sorceress. The noble family wants it returned. That is part of my contract, in addition to Kurn’s torment and his execution, along with Castis who was aided in the theft and trying to hide the evidence. I must keep my bargains, so I would like to bargain with you. What do you want for it?”
My first impulse was that I wanted nothing for it if only Ma’ab wanted it. I hissed, “You can well imagine what the ‘family’ will do with it. Have they any more restraint than the one who stole it?”
The half-blood shrugged. “No. But that is not required to take a contract.” He saw my stubborn look. “We will know where it is. It can always be stolen again, if someone were to hire for that task.”
Offense burned in my gut, and I clutched the ruby harder. “What a ridiculous use of time, Dragonblood, to lose sight of an item hard-won so you can close a contract, and then go to steal it again!”
Mourn’s Human face smiled with genuine amusement. “Sometimes it is necessary. I grant that a mata intercepting someone at a siege does not have decades stretching before her to plan her aspirations, although you might find it less ridiculous if you were in my place.”
“I am not greedy like you, To’vah-krav. I do not care about building wealth with bargains and contracts. Such narrow pursuit of objects only brings trouble, from what I’ve seen.”
The mercenary chose not to debate that, but he did use it. “Then surely there is something of less tangible worth to you, that I may trade with you instead of tricking or stealing from you.”
“You said no stealing.”
His gaze levelled, and I thought I saw a glimpse of metallic gold in his blue eyes. “I would rather not. But, fair warning, Sirana, that is up to a point, and only regarding the Ridhian. I would steal this ruby from you to complete my contract if you refuse to bargain.”
I gritted my teeth behind my lips. As Gavin predicted, Mourn had been humoring me, willing to let me ask for something I wanted before giving up something I couldn’t keep. He’s made it clear as crystal.
This wasn’t any different from what Wilsira would say to a lesser Noble, was it? My mouth tight, I asked, “Any similar plans for the Desert dagger?”
“Not at this time,” he answered readily. “Though it’s possible, giving this type of object enough time and exposure, someone else could make a bargain before you.”
Goddess-damned, insufferable rough-skinned…
“Why ask to bargain now?” I demanded.
“You have shown me you are not only a vivid dreamer on calm da
ys,” he answered seriously, “but sensitive to the Ley of the Archipelago. I have run out of time waiting on you to bring it up first.”
“What?” I laughed. “What do vivid dreams have to do with a magic ruby?”
Mourn just studied me for a moment; perhaps he could tell I knew more than I said. Then he said, “You are attuned to it, and it was the dark relic that told you its name. The dagger will likely attempt to use any Ley flux among the isles to snare you and coax you to draw it again. Had I known this, I’d have not left you alone down below. I apologize, I will not do that again.”
I tossed my chin. “You are trying to frighten me into trading it.”
“We both know demons,” he growled. “Tell me you do not see it willing and eager to try this. And you have no defense.”
“And if I just give it to you,” I replied, “I still have no defense!”
“Is that it? You think to use it in defense of the relic?”
“Can it be done? Will you teach me?”
He grimaced as I clasped at anything. “I am not sure. Nor would we have time. The isle maze is ahead, and I must close my contract at Augran. I would rather bargain for your defense a different way.”
I ground my teeth, fingers clutching the railing through my gloves, caught in indecision as I closed my eyes against the constant motion beneath us.
Where is the truth? Where are the lies?
Mourn looked behind me, and I expected some sailor to be butting in where he wasn’t wanted.
“Deathwalker.” He nodded in greeting. “Is something wrong?”
I turned quickly, spying the hooded monk coming toward us…
Holding Kurn’s sword.
It was sheathed, and the death mage held it single-handed just beneath the cross guard. I couldn’t see his eyes as he looked down at his feet climbing the stairs.
He spoke as he approached us. “Not for me. I wondered, mercenary, if you would bargain for this sword?”
