by Steven Brust
They left us there for two more days, during which I learned the distinction between "popping" a beat and "rolling" a rhythm, between fish and animal skin heads, how to tell if there is a small crack in the jawbone one intends to use as a beater, and the training that goes into making a festival, or "hard-ground" or "groundy," drummer; a ritual, or "crashing surf" or "surfy," drummer; and a spiritual, or "deep water" or "watery," drummer. Aibynn had studied all three, but preferred surfy drumming.
I was less interested in all of this than I pretended to be, but it was the only entertainment around. I was interrogated twice more during this time, but you can probably fill in those conversations yourself. Conversation with Aibynn was more interesting than the interrogations, when he wasn't drumming, but he didn't say anything that helped me figure out if he was really working with them or not.
At one point he made a passing reference to the gods. I considered the differences between Dragaeran attitudes toward the divine and Eastern attitudes, and said, "What are gods?"
"A god," he said, "is someone who isn't bound by natural laws, and who can morally commit an action which would be immoral for someone who wasn't a god."
"Sounds like you memorized that."
"I have a friend who's a philosopher."
"Does he have any philosophy on escaping from cells?"
"He says that if you escape, you are required to bring your cellmate with you. Unless you're a god," he added.
"Right," I said. "Does he have a philosophy about drumming?"
He gave me a curious look. "We've talked about it," he said. "Sometimes, you know, when you're playing, you're in touch with something; there are things that flow through you, like you aren't playing at all, but something else is playing you. That's when it's best."
"Yeah," I agreed. "It's the same thing with assassination."
He pretended to laugh, but I don't think he really thought it was funny.
After he came back from his second session with the Royal Whootsidoo, I said, "What did he ask you about?"
"He wanted to know how many sounds I could get out of my drum."
"Ah," I said. "Well?"
"Well what?"
"How many?"
"Thirty-nine, using the head and the shell, both sides of the beater, fingers, and muffling. And then there are variations."
"I see. Well, now I know."
"I wish I had my drum."
"I suppose so."
"Has it rained since you've been here? I didn't have a window at first."
"I'm not sure. I don't think so."
"Good. Rain would ruin the head."
A little later he said, "Why did we kill the King?"
I said, "We?"
"Well, that's what they asked me."
"Oh. He didn't like our drum."
"Good reason."
Silence fell, and, when we weren't talking, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to live, which got pretty depressing, so I said, "Those times you feel like you're in tune with something, do you think it might be a god?"
He shook his head. "No. It isn't anything like that. It's hard to describe."
"Try," I said, and he cooperated by keeping me distracted until I drifted off to sleep.
Early in the afternoon on the second day after Aibynn had joined me, I was listening to an impromptu concert on iron bar (tuned with pieces of a towel), wooden spoon, and porcelain mug, when I felt a faint twinge in the back of my head. I almost jerked upright, but I held myself still, relaxed, and concentrated on making the link stronger. "Hello?"
"Boss?"
"Loiosh! Where are you?"
"I ... coming ... later ... can't..." and it faded out. Then there was connection with someone else, so strong it was like someone shouting in my ear. "Hello Vlad. I hope all is well with you."
It only took me a moment to recognize the psychic "voice." I almost shouted aloud. "Daymar!"
"Himself."
"Where are you?"
"Castle Black. We've just finished dinner."
"If you tell me about your dinner I'll fry you."
"Quite. We understand from Loiosh that you're in something of a predicament."
"I think the word predicament is awfully well chosen."
"Yes. He says that sorcery doesn't work there."
"Seems not to. How did he get there ?"
"He flew, apparently."
"Flew? By the Orb! How many miles is that?"
"I don't know. He does seem rather tired. But don't worry. We'll be by for you as soon as we can."
"How soon is that? They're planning to execute me, y'know."
"Really? For what?"
"A misunderstanding involving royal prerogatives."
"I don't understand."
"Yes. Well, never mind. When can you get here?"
"Since we can't telep—" and the link broke. Daymar a noble of the House of the Hawk and a fellow who worked very hard at developing his psychic abilities, is capable of being arbitrary and unpredictable, but I didn't think he'd chop off a conversation in midsentence. Therefore something else had. Therefore, I was worried.
I cursed and tried to reestablish the link, but got nothing. I kept trying until night had fallen and I had a head ache, but I got nothing except morbid thoughts. I fell asleep hoping for rescue and vaguely wondering if I
dreamt it all. I woke up in the middle of the night with the half memory of a dream in which I was flying over the ocean, into a nasty wind, and my wings were very tired. I kept wanting to rest, and every time I did an orca with the face of a dragon would rise out of the water and snap at me.
If I'd've had half a minute to wake up, I would have figured out what the dream meant without any help, but I didn't have the half a minute, or any need for it.
"Boss! Wake up." His voice in my head was very loud, and very welcome.
"Loiosh!"
"We're coming in, boss. Get ready. Is anyone with you?"
"No. I mean, yes. A friend. Well, maybe a friend. He might be an enemy. I don't—"
"That's what I like about working with you, boss: your precision."
"Don't be a wiseacre. Who's with you?"
But there was no need for him to answer, because at that moment the wall next to me turned pale blue, twisted in on itself, and dissolved, and I was face-to-face with my wife, Cawti.
I stood up as my roommate stirred. "You and how many Dragonlords?" I said.
"Two," she said. "Why? Do you think we need more?"
She tossed me a dagger. I caught it hilt-first and said, "Thanks."
"No problem." She walked over to the door, played with it for a while, and I heard the iron bar outside hit the floor. I looked a question at her.
"There may be things in the building you want," she for "Spellbreaker, for example." She said.
"A point. Is, um, anyone still alive?"
"Probably."
Enter Aliera: very short for a Dragaeran, angular face-, green eyes. She gave me a courtesy.
I nodded.
"I found this." She handed me a three-foot length of gold chain, which I took and wrapped around my wrist.
"Cawti had just mentioned it," I said. "Thanks."
My roommate, who didn't seem at all disturbed by these events, stood up. "Remember what we said about the philosophy of escaping from cells?"
Cawti looked at him, then back at me. I considered. He might really be just what he seemed, in which case I'd gotten him into a great deal of trouble for helping me. I glanced at the door to the cell. Aliera was now in the room, and there was no commotion to indicate anyone had noticed us escaping. Behind me was a roughly circular gap in the wall, eight feet in diameter, with nothing on the other side but island darkness, fresh with the smell of the ocean.
I said, "Okay, come on. But one thing. If you have any thoughts of betraying me—" I paused and held up the dagger. "In the Empire, we call this a knife.'"
"Knife," he said. "Got it."
Loiosh flew in and land
ed on my shoulder. We stepped through the wall and out into the night.
Lesson Five
Returning Home
Cawti led the way, with Aliera bringing up the rear. We slipped past the single row of structures that represented the city. I realized that I'd been right next to the Palace, and that we were copying almost exactly the route I'd taken after the assassination. We entered the woods outside of the town and stopped there long enough to listen for sounds of pursuit. There were none. My feet were not enjoying the woods. I considered sending Loiosh back to find my boots, but I didn't consider it very seriously. I glanced back at Aibynn, who was also without boots. It didn't seem to be bothering him.
"It's good to have friends," I remarked as we started walking again.
Cawti said, "Are you all right?"
"Mostly. We'll have to take it slow."
"Were you, um, questioned?"
"Not the way you mean it. But I've managed to damage myself a bit."
"It's well past the middle of the night already. We're going to have to hurry to be there by morning, not to mention losing the tide."
"I'm not sure I can hurry."
"What happened?"
"I'm too old to be climbing trees."
"I could have told you that."
"Yes."
"Do the best you can," she said.
"I will." My back already hurt, and now my hand started throbbing. I said, "If we meet anyone drumming in the woods, let's not stop for conversation."
"You'll have to tell me about that," said Cawti. I heard Loiosh laughing inside my head. Aibynn, walking directly in front of me, either didn't hear the comment or chose to ignore it. Branches slapped against my face, just as they'd done last time. Last time I hadn't had Cawti and Aliera with me, so I had cause to be optimistic. On the other hand, the branches still stung. Cheap philosophy there, if you want it.
After an hour or so we stopped, as if by consensus, though no one said anything. I sat down with my back against a tree and said, "What's the plan?"
Aliera said, "We have a ship waiting for us in a cove a few miles from here."
"A ship? Can you drive one of those things?"
"It has a crew of Orca."
"Are you sure they'll be waiting for us?"
"Morrolan is there."
"Ah." And, "I'm flattered. Grateful, too."
Aliera smiled suddenly. "I enjoyed it," she said. Cawti didn't smile. After a few minutes' rest we stood up again. Loiosh left my shoulder to fly on ahead, and we made our way through the woods once more, now at a brisk walk. It was still very dark, but Aliera was making a small light that hung in the air a few paces ahead of us, bouncing in time to her steps.
As we walked, I said to Aibynn, "Is there anything we should be watching for?"
"Trees," he said. "Don't run into them. It hurts."
"Falling out of them isn't much fun, either, but I don't think that's a real danger just at the moment."
"Were you unconscious when you landed?"
"I expect so. I don't really remember anything about it. I was pretty much gone as I fell."
"Too bad," he said.
"Why?"
"The sound you made when you hit. It was a good one. A nice, deep thump. Resonance."
I couldn't decide if I should laugh or cut his throat, so I said, "I'm glad you didn't tune me, anyway."
I kept my eyes on the light, watching it bounce, and I wondered how Aliera had been able to produce it without sorcery to work with. For that matter, though— "Aliera?"
She turned her head without slowing down. "Yes, Vlad?"
"I was told sorcery doesn't work on this island."
"Yes. I lost my link to the Orb about ten miles from shore."
"Then how did you melt down that wall?"
"Pre-Empire sorcery."
"Oh. The rough stuff."
She agreed.
"Getting good, eh?"
She nodded.
"Isn't it illegal?"
She chuckled.
Cawti still hadn't said anything. About then Aibynn increased his speed and caught up with Aliera. "This way," he said.
I said, "Why?" at just the same moment Aliera did.
"Just want to see something."
"Loiosh, is anyone around?"
"I don't think so, boss. But you know I can't always tell with these guys."
"Eyeball it. Check out the way our friend is heading."
"Okay."
After a few minutes he said, "Nothing I can see, boss. You're almost up to the clearing where they caught you."
"Oh. That explains it, then."
"It does?"
We got there. The ashes in the fire were quite cold by now. Aibynn found his drum, looked it over, and nodded. If it had been destroyed, I'd have been convinced he was friendly to us. As it was, I still owed him something, but I had no way of knowing what sort of payment he deserved. Time would tell. He also hunted around some more, then gave a small sound of satisfaction and pulled a mass of fur from near the tree I'd fallen from. He shook it and put it on his head.
"What kind of animal was that?" I asked.
"A norska."
"Oh, yes, I see." It was dark brown and white, and still had the norska face in it, with the fangs showing. It didn't look nearly as absurd or disgusting as it ought to have. We resumed our walk.
I allowed myself to feel cautiously optimistic; the entire army of Greenaere, if there was one, would have a hard time keeping Aliera away from that boat, especially if Morrolan was on the other end.
"The sky is getting light in the east," said Aliera.
"We're not going to make it," said Cawti.
"Tell me where the bay is," said Aibynn. "I can probably get us there during flood tomorrow without being seen."
"In the daylight?" I said.
He nodded.
Cawti said, "What do you mean, probably?"
"It depends which bay you mean. If it's Chottmon's Bay, there's too much open ground."
We all studied him. "If Daymar were here," said Aliera, "he could mind-probe him and—"
"If Daymar were here," I said, "he'd still be back at the Palace studying the weave on the rugs while the army took potshots at his back."
"Does he like rugs?" inquired Aibynn.
"All right," said Aliera. "I'll inform Morrolan of the delay. The bay is marked by a high pinnacle, like a crown, on one side, and a stand of tall thin trees on the other. It is about a quarter of a mile across, and there is a small barren islet in the middle."
"Dark Woman's Cove," said Aibynn. "No problem."
"Remember," I said. "This is—"
"Yes. A knife."
He set out in the lead. We moved slowly, but steadily, and didn't run into anyone looking for us. Aibynn appeared to wander aimlessly, hardly looking where he was going and never stopping to look around. I stayed right behind him, ready to stick a knife in his kidney at the first sign that he'd betrayed us. If he knew this, he didn't give any indication, and it was the middle of the afternoon when we saw the little bay, with a lonely ship sitting in the middle of it.
We waited in the woods that came right up to the beach while they sent a boat for us. Cawti still had hardly spoken to me.
He stood on the prow of the ship, tall, aloof, Dragaeran, and dry. The Orca on the ship assisted us without any questions, and a few of them gave him dark looks. I suspect these had to do with Blackwand, sheathed at his side. No one wants to be that close to any Morganti weapon, and Blackwand was the kind of blade that survivors write dirges about.
He and Aliera were cousins, both of the House of the Dragon, which meant they preferred a good battle to a good meal—practically my definition of madness. They were young as Dragaerans go, less than five hundred years old. I'd live out my entire life while they were both young, but no sense in dwelling on that. He wore the black and silver of the House of the Dragon with the emphasis on the black, she with the emphasis on the silver. She was short and quick; he was ta
ll and just as quick. The three of us got acquainted one day in the Paths of the Dead. Well, that isn't strictly true, but never mind. There were things that made us friends in spite of differences in species, House, class, and how important we rated food, but never mind that, either. He was there, waiting, when the boat with two undistinguished Orca brought us to the ship.
He gave Aibynn a curious glance, but didn't mention him. He gave a crisp order, and the ship swung a little, shook, turned, settled, and began to move. We sailed neatly away from the island, as if the escape had been no major feat at all. Which, I suppose, it really hadn't, my nerves to the contrary.
I watched the splotch that was Greenaere begin to grow smaller against the reddish horizon, and a tightness in my chest of which I hadn't been aware began to ease. I glanced at the crew, and was a bit disappointed that they were strangers; for some reason I wouldn't have minded running into Yinta, or someone else from Chorba's Pride. On the other hand, I wasn't seasick, in spite of no longer having the charm I'd set out with.
Spray hit my face and stung my eyes as the sails above me snapped full, dragging the ship along. Morrolan stood next to me, Aliera next to him. Aibynn was near the front, the prow or the bow or whatever, doing something to his drum. Cawti was not in sight. I said, "I owe you one, Morrolan."
He said, "I'm disturbed."
"About my owing you something?"
"Daymar said he couldn't maintain the contact with you."
"Yes. I wondered about that."
"I feel something on that island."
Aliera said, "There's a reason why our links to the Orb were severed. It wasn't the distance."
"It mislikes me," said Morrolan.
I said, "Huh?"
"He doesn't like it," said Aliera.
"Oh."
Morrolan shifted slightly, keeping his eyes on the island. His long fingers rubbed the large ruby on his silver shirt. I looked back. The island was almost invisible now. Loiosh was on my shoulder. I said, "Where's Rocza?"
"She stayed home."
"Not the oceangoing type?"
"I guess not. She was worried about you, though.
"That's good to hear. You must have had quite a flight getting back to shore."
He didn't answer at once. Images came to mind that reminded me very much of a dream I'd just had. My imaginary wings still ached. He said, "I was worried about you, boss."
