Cursebreaker

by Carol A Park

  Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Talking to Yaotel was the last thing he wanted to do because he knew where it would lead. If only he could report that Ferehar was perfectly stable and everyone loved their new Ri.

  Danton hesitated and glanced apologetically at Ivana. “Uh, I didn’t tell him Ivana was with you. Or what else you were doing. So, not sure if—”

  “I’m more than willing to stay elsewhere,” Ivana said, cutting in.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Vaughn said firmly. “What else we’ve been doing is important too, so Yaotel has me until approximately three days before the sky-fire.” It would work. It had to.

  Danton’s eyes widened. “Did you…?”

  “Maybe.” He glanced at Ivana. “We’re still working on it.” He jerked his head. “Why don’t you show us where we’re staying? You wouldn’t believe what happened…”

  Danton showed them back to the one-story building he had exited from, explaining their accommodations as he went. “Ri Tanuac’s been generous enough to give us an entire wing, such as it is, of the consulate, for now. It’s basically a common area with four sleeping rooms around it.” He pulled open the door to the consulate and led them into a long stone hallway, and then through another door into a small entryway.

  Vaughn glanced around the room curiously. Within this section of the consulate, the walls were made of long, wooden poles secured together and to the floor and ceiling. There was no door at the end, only a cured and dyed animal hide that stretched from ceiling to floor. “What is this?” he asked.

  “This used to be the section of the consulate where important visitors from the southern lands would stay—they even had an ambassador from there once.” He paused before the hide. “I think they were trying to make it more like home.”

  “Ah. I see.” That made sense. The southern lands below Donia were populated by a semi-nomadic group of people; Setana had never bothered with them or their land because there had always been “better” opportunities. Vaughn didn’t think any Setanans were interested in settling the sometimes harsh wilderness anyway.

  “Of course,” Danton continued, “there are no ambassadors anymore. Except—” He halted. “Well. That’s not my place. I’ll let Yaotel and Driskell explain everything to you.”

  He held back the hide for Vaughn and Ivana.

  They ducked into the room, which was a large, circular room made of the same stick-like walls. Four hides covered door-sized gaps in the walls, and in the middle of the room, on cushions around a low, round table, sat Yaotel, Linette—one of their best bindblood healers—Thrax, and a young, spectacled, Donian man Vaughn had never seen before. Presumably, he was the aforementioned Driskell.

  Danton let the hide fall closed, and Thrax gave them a grin and lazy salute and opened his mouth, but Yaotel was on his feet before Thrax could speak.

  “What is she doing here?” were the first words out of his mouth.

  The she he referred to was, of course, Ivana.

  Vaughn shrugged. “You did tell me a full update could wait until—”

  “Danton, I note that you conveniently neglected to mention this.”

  Danton took a step away from Yaotel and toward the wall, as if he was thinking of blending in. “Uh, I… Well—”

  “Ivana is helping me with the shrine mission,” Vaughn said. “And therefore also helping us.”

  Yaotel locked eyes with Ivana, and his gaze wasn’t friendly.

  Vaughn had halfway expected this. Ivana had killed Yaotel’s sister in the course of a job a couple years back, and it seemed Yaotel was still bearing a grudge. That didn’t surprise Vaughn, but he did wish Danton had prepared Yaotel.

  Ivana had stayed near the door and was now leaning against the wall, her arms folded across her chest. She didn’t flinch back from Yaotel’s gaze. “I would be more than happy to leave.”

  Vaughn gritted his teeth. His reason for wanting Ivana to stay nearby was partially because he wanted to be able to easily check in on her progress, partially because he liked having her around, and partially because… Well, he was afraid if he let her out of his sight for too long, she might disappear again.

  Linette looked on, her brow furrowed, Thrax had one eyebrow cocked, and Driskell fidgeted with his fingers uncomfortably—none of the three had any idea what the conflict stemmed from, of course. “If you would let me explain,” Vaughn said to Yaotel, “I’m sure that—”

  The hide opened, and a Donian servant bearing a tray of food walked in. He bowed over the tray. “Pardon me,” he said. “I was told to be sure you had adequate refreshment before the meeting this afternoon.”

  No one said anything. The servant set the tray of food down on the low table, next to where Yaotel stood, and then straightened and turned to go.

  As he did, metal flashed.

  Ivana sensed the attack before she saw the knife.

  The flick of servant’s eyes around the room, the way he had turned, the movement of his arm—

  She hurled herself into him just as he slashed toward Yaotel.

  His strike went wild, his arms flailing out as Ivana knocked him off-balance. The knife grazed Yaotel’s chest, and he bellowed and staggered to the side.

  Ivana grabbed the servant’s shoulders before he could recover from his surprise and kneed him in the groin. He groaned and stumbled backward, but he didn’t fall. Instead, incredibly, he ignored her and lunged once more toward Yaotel.

  She threw herself to the side, grabbed his knife arm, and used his own weight and momentum to hurl herself around him and into his back.

  He grunted, and she jumped up, wrapped her arms around his neck, and lifted her legs off the ground so that her entire weight hung off his throat.

  He dropped the knife and staggered backward, grasping at her arms, trying to pull them away, and then, failing to do so, hurled himself backward.

  His full weight landed on top of her—a cushion for him, a painful impact for her.

  But she didn’t let go. He tried to get free by rolling over her, so she wrapped her legs around his waist and kicked her heel back into his groin, multiple times, until his soundless attempts to scream finally failed him, and he slumped back to the ground, motionless.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  A Grumpy Old Man

  Vaughn winced with every one of those kicks. Damn. What a way to go.

  Ivana shoved Yaotel’s would-be assassin off her and sat up, rubbing her shoulder.

  You okay? Vaughn mouthed when she glanced his way.

  She just shrugged.

  He’d ask Linette to check over her after things calmed down.

  He looked around. Not that it was chaotic. In fact, the rest of the room seemed to be in a state of shocked silence.

  Yaotel held a hand over a bleeding gash in his chest, the blood trickling down his hand in a mix of silver and red.

  Linette and Thrax stood slightly in front of him, as if ready to defend him should Ivana have failed.

  Dal Driskell was pressed back against the wall, his eyes wide and flicking back and forth between Yaotel and the “servant” on the floor. Danton stood next to him.

  Driskell ran a hand down his face. “Are you all right, Dal?” he asked Yaotel, a slight tremor in his voice.

  Linette stirred. She turned toward Yaotel and pried his hand off the wound. “It’s not deep,” she said after examining it for a moment. “He’s lucky.” She placed her hand on his chest.

  Vaughn snorted. “Luck has nothing to do with it.” He looked pointedly at Yaotel and then at Ivana.

  “Who is he?” Driskell whispered, looking down at the man.

  “If you don’t know,” Ivana said, “then you’re probably asking the wrong question.” She pushed herself to her feet. “The question should be: Who sent him?”

  Driskell had begun shaking his head before she finished speaking, as if he anticipated her response. “No, no, no. You’re suggesting someone tried to have Yaotel assassinated? There aren’t that many people who know about what
’s going on. The four Gan, the ambassador, the Ri, his daughter, a few military personnel… None of them would have done this.”

  As of yet, neither Vaughn nor Ivana knew anything about “what was going on,” nor were they acquainted with any of the people Driskell had listed, but Ivana answered as if it were immaterial. “And yet,” she countered, “if that’s true, one of them must have—or they told someone else who turned out to be untrustworthy.”

  Driskell pushed his spectacles up his nose. He opened his mouth to say something more, then shook his head.

  Yaotel frowned. “Might have been nice to be able to interrogate him.”

  Vaughn gritted his teeth. Never mind that Ivana had just saved Yaotel’s life and consequentially the rest of their lives. His first thought was to lay blame at her feet for not being able to question the man?

  Ivana’s face was granite. “He’s not dead,” she said, her tone clipped. “But that probably won’t last.”

  Yaotel glanced at Linette, who immediately knelt at the man’s side. She put her fingers to his bruised throat. “She’s right.”

  Ha. So there.

  Yaotel pressed his lips together. “Can you save him?”

  “Probably,” Linette said, rising again. “But it might take a few days to get him to the point where he’ll be able to talk.”

  Yaotel then looked at Driskell. “Dal Driskell,” he said. “I have no authority here.”

  Driskell, who still looked rather shaken, blinked. “Oh. Oh! Right. Of course.” He smoothed his tunic, pulled a pencil and notebook out from a pocket, and flipped the notebook open. “I’ll report this immediately to the Ri himself and, of course, I’ll pass on your request…and…um…” He faltered, looked at the unconscious man, and bit his lip. “I guess…we need guards…”

  Vaughn felt a stab of pity for this Driskell. He didn’t know who Driskell was, but given the context, he assumed he was someone official, perhaps a liaison for the Ri. Either way, he was young and obviously out of his element.

  A small sigh issued from Ivana’s lips. “Have him taken to a secure location,” she suggested. “And make sure that whoever gets him there is someone you trust, lest whoever sent him find out you have him alive.”

  Driskell swallowed, but he gave Ivana a grateful look. “Right. Of course. I’ll be back as soon as I can to get him out of here.” His eyes skittered across Yaotel’s chest, now stained with silver. “Uh…you might want to…clean up, just in case, before I get back.” He scratched out a few notes and then moved toward the door with purpose, as if making a to-do list had given him an anchor. He bowed generally in the direction of the room and ducked through the hide.

  Vaughn took a deep breath. “All right. I think it’s time you told us…” He gestured to himself and Ivana. “What in the abyss you’ve gotten us into.”

  Yaotel’s lips pressed together. “After Dal Driskell has made arrangements for our uninvited guest, I will explain everything. To you.” His eyes flicked to Ivana.

  Here we go again. “She just saved your life, Yaotel.”

  “This is highly sensitive, need-to-know information. And if I decide she needs to know, I will tell her then.”

  Oh, for the love of—

  Ivana held up her hands. “You know what? I don’t want to know.” She glanced at Vaughn. “I’m going to take a room at that inn we passed, The Silver Nomad. If you need me, I’ll be there, working on your project.” Then she stalked out.

  Thrax whistled. “Yikes. Not getting in the middle of that one.”

  Yaotel glared at Thrax, and Danton backed away and pretended to be incredibly interested in a spot on the wall.

  Linette cleared her throat and knelt back down by the unconscious man. “I’ll make sure he stays stable.”

  Vaughn took a long, controlled breath in, and then let it out again, just as slowly. She killed his sister, he reminded himself. “So, does this mean I don’t have to go to a council meeting?”

  Yaotel let out an exasperated huff and sat down heavily on one of the cushions at the table. He waved his hand at another cushion, and Vaughn cautiously joined him.

  “What in the abyss have you been doing?” Yaotel asked.

  “What you asked me to do!”

  Yaotel looked at him askance. “Danton told me that you didn’t go directly to Ferehar, though he’s been vague on the details. Then I couldn’t get a hold of you for an entire month. Then, when I finally do, you tell me you’re done in Ferehar and on your way back to Marakyn.”

  “Look—I had some things to follow up on with the shrine mission first, and that involved finding Ivana. In, uh…” He cracked his neck from side to side. “Fuilyn.”

  Yaotel pressed his lips together.

  “You did give me permission to work on that project,” Vaughn reminded him.

  “I gave you permission to check out the site, not go gallivanting across Setana.”

  “Eh,” Vaughn said, wiggling his hand in the air, “that’s not how I interpreted it.”

  Danton edged toward one of the adjoining rooms.

  “Danton!” Yaotel snapped.

  Danton froze.

  “Sit.”

  Danton’s shoulders slumped. “I told you so,” he whispered to Vaughn as he plopped down next to him.

  “Bah,” Vaughn whispered back. “He’s just a grumpy old man.”

  “I can hear you.”

  “Not old enough, apparently,” Vaughn whispered again.

  Vaughn was sure, for a moment, that Yaotel’s head was about to pop. “Everyone else did what they were supposed to do,” Yaotel said evenly. “Yasril came back. Saylyn came back. Dax came back. Even Thrax came back.”

  “Hey!” Thrax protested from the other side of the room. “Don’t make me out to be the responsible one now.”

  “Thrax, out,” Yaotel said.

  Thrax crossed his eyes at them and disappeared behind one of the hides to an adjoining room. Danton looked regretfully after him.

  “I don’t understand what the big deal is,” Vaughn said, plucking a grape off the platter the servant had brought.

  “The ‘big deal’ is that I had a job for you to do, and you dragged your feet doing it. And then you dragged Danton along with you.”

  “Uh, did that come from the tray the assassin brought in?” Danton interrupted, just as Vaughn was about to pop the grape in his mouth.

  He dropped the grape. “See,” he said, “that is why Ivana’s useful to have around. If Danton weren’t so smart, I could have died.”

  Yaotel’s eye twitched.

  All right. Too far. He spread his hands. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t realize the job was so time-sensitive. I’m here now—for now.”

  “For now? You have plans to go elsewhere?”

  Vaughn raised an eyebrow. “Yes. I have an appointment with the heretic gods in about, oh, two and a half weeks?”

  Yaotel just stared at him, unblinking.

  “You…do know what I was doing at that shrine, right? Remember, fascinating journal, mysterious portal to the heavens…”

  “Yes. Another of your wild schemes, no doubt to get out of doing what you should be doing. And everyone else came back and said you learned nothing.”

  Vaughn raised a finger. “That is…” He thought about it for a moment and then shrugged. “All right, technically true. Which is why I tracked down Ivana, because I needed someone who was good with languages.”

  “And that then required you to drag her through Ferehar and back to Marakyn?”

  Vaughn hesitated. He doubted Ivana would want her personal connection with the journal shared with anyone else, let alone Yaotel. “Yes, in fact. But what’s important is that in the end, she was able to translate the page out of the journal that we needed translated, and she’s working right now on translating the inscription on the serpent. After all I went through to get back here, I need to at least give it a try.”

  Yaotel closed his eyes.

  Vaughn glanced at Danton. He
shrugged.

  After what seemed like an eternity, Yaotel opened his eyes again. “I’m hoping,” he said calmly, “that after I’m able to explain to you the situation here, you’ll realize how inconsequential your plan sounds in comparison. But I realize that’s probably a vain hope, and I also realize that you’ve never taken direction particularly well. I’ve got Aleena taking your place in Ferehar for now, so go do whatever it is you think you need to do. As long as you promise me that after you’re done standing in the middle of the forest reciting ancient incantations, or whatever it is you’re planning, and you’re feeling like an idiot, you’ll get your ass back here and do what I tell you?”

  Vaughn held his hands up. “Sure, fine, whatever.” There had to be a way out of this. He didn’t want to be Ri. The translation, the doorway, it had to work. The gods had to help.

  Yaotel exhaled.

  “Might it interest you to know that my brother was asking about the Ichtaca?”

  Yaotel’s eyes sharpened and he sat up straighter. “What?”

  “I had a run-in with him. Nothing much, just some mild torture and—don’t worry, I didn’t tell him anything—questions. But he knew the name ‘Ichtaca.’ You have some loose lips somewhere?”

  Yaotel’s brow furrowed. “That’s…disturbing. How did you escape?”

  “Ivana”—he snapped his fingers—“again, I reiterate how she comes in handy—rescued me.” He paused. “With the help of my mother.”

  Yaotel narrowed his eyes. “Your mother helped you?”

  Vaughn shifted. All wisecracks left him. “Yeah.”

  “Interesting. Good to keep that in mind.”

  Vaughn had the sudden urge to get up and start pacing. He didn’t want to hear any more about plans for Ferehar right now.

  The hide slid aside and Driskell popped his head in. “Pardon the interruption, but we have a place to hold him,” he said, nodding at the still-unconscious man. “Danton, would you mind sort of…concealing him while we get him there?”

  Danton popped up off his cushion before Driskell had finished speaking. “Happy to help.”