Lorel glared at the serpent for a few seconds. Eventually she shrugged and frowned at him. “What did it say?”
He knew she wouldn’t believe him. “It wants a coat.”
She shrugged again. “We’ll work on it.” She turned back to the fire and poked a spoon into the rice pot.
The Kyridon nodded and withdrew into the wagon. The door eased shut, apparently under its own power. That was a trick he’d love to learn.
“Shut your mouth, kid. You’re gonna catch a fly.”
Tsai’dona waited until the door was fully closed to start cackling, but then she laughed so hard she gripped her belly as if she were in pain.
“I don’t believe it.” He couldn’t believe any of them. “You were actually polite to it – for you. I think you shocked it.”
“Don’t be silly, kid. Me and the slithering toad get along just fine.” She heaped a wooden plate with half-cooked rice, charred coney, and half-burnt half-raw tubers. More food than he’d normally eat all day, if any of it were edible. She held plate out to him. “Here, eat your supper.”
He glared at her from the depths of the furry hood. “How am I supposed to take that? You might notice that I don’t have the use my hands. Especially since you tied me up.”
“What a shame.” Lorel grinned down at him. “I guess I’ll have to feed you like a baby.”
“Turybird.” But if he wanted loose, he’d best humor her. His bound wrists were beginning to ache. “Have mercy. Untie me.”
“Ain’t gonna, kid.”
“Listen, I promise to wear it.” In desperation he added, “I’ll even keep the hood up.”
“Oh, all right.” Lorel handed the plate to her minion and untied the knots.
What a relief. His hands tingled as blood flowed into his fingers.
Tsai’dona passed the plate to him. “Eat. You’re already too skinny.”
Lorel and Tsai’dona devoured everything, even second helpings, as though the garbage tasted as good as the food at Trader’s Inn.
It didn’t taste even as good as the meal Trevor made him bury. He ate as much as he could gag down, not daring to complain about the half-boiled, burnt, unseasoned food. She hadn’t even bothered with salt.
But when Lorel got up, fetched the hammer, and nailed the coney hide to the wagon, he couldn’t keep quiet any longer.
Words wouldn’t come, only agonized frustration. He plunked his barely touched plate down on the ground and wailed like a tormented coyote.
Lorel raised her eyebrows at him. “Hush up, kid. You gonna wake the dead. Or call down more serdils.”
That turybird! “You can’t sell coney hides. Why are you nailing that thing to my wagon?”
“Because when I get enough cleaned up, I’m gonna line your cloak with them. Serdil cloak with bunny-rabbit lining. Sounds warm, don’t it?”
Viper moaned.
Tsai’dona giggled. The traitor.
“Hey, toad!” Lorel scooped up the half-tanned hide she’d been sitting on. “Get out here. I wanna measure you for a coat.”
***
But the miswoven slithering toad wouldn’t come outside. She had to go in and measure it – the fraying critter was nearly five times as long as both of her arms spread wide. She guessed that made it thirty two feet long and twenty inches around at its widest. That would use up bunches of pelts. But it weren’t like they didn’t have enough of them. She’d already added two to the kid’s bed. Tsai would get the next pair, once they were clean enough.
When it got really cold, she might even put one on her own bed.
It was dark when she climbed out of the wagon and stretched. Way too tight in there. Too bad it finally got too cold to sleep under the wagon. Sleeping inside with the toad gave her the wicked willies.
Tsai and the kid got the willies from the ghost, but she ain’t never seen it. Didn’t really even believe in it. Them two worried about all sorts of silly stuff.
The kid peered up at her from the depths of his hood, but the fur didn’t have no snow on it. From the way Tsai was giggling, she’d bet he just now pulled it back up. The noodle brain.
His half-filled plate waited in front of him. “Ain’t you gonna eat, kid?”
He pushed the food in her direction. “I’m full. You eat it.”
What, he wasn’t gonna defend his plate to the end? Was he sick? No, dinner had tasted pretty sad. She should’ve tied him up after he finished cooking.
The kid rolled his eyes like he knew what she was thinking, but he picked up the plate and offered to her.
Couldn’t let good food go to waste. Not when she was still hungry, anyway. She shoveled the cold, tasteless stuff into her mouth. Yup, next time she’d remember to tie him up after dinner.
Tsai cleared her throat. “This is a defensible campsite. Can we spend the winter here? It’s a boggy long time until spring.”
“No way. We’re too close to Padue. Them slavers’ll find us here.”
Tsai sighed, but nodded.
The kid pushed his hood back, but pulled it halfway forward when she glared at him. “We must reach Land’s End before the Spring Equinox, which isn’t as far away as I’d like. We have over fifteen hundred miles to travel.”
She’d lost track of time again. “How much time we got left?”
“Only two and a half lunars. It’s the third of the Racer.”
Blood in the Weave. They missed the New Year. Not that they had much to party about.
Nightshade bugled, sounding like a eager new recruit on his first duty of playing reveille. Sumach whinnied back.
At least somebody was having a good time.
Maybe she could talk Tsai into a little sword practice by firelight. Even if they did use the fraying wooden swords, fighting was better than partying any day of the year. The two of them sliding around in the snow oughta make the kid laugh, too. Poor gimpy kid surely needed to laugh more.
Lorel stood and headed for the wagon’s door. Unless somebody hid them again, the wooden swords were stored just inside.
Chapter 12.
Reading on a moving vehicle under a cloudy sky wore him out so much his eyes were crossed. Viper closed his book, leaned back in the driver’s seat, and sighed. His breath steamed around his face and blew away in the icy wind.
The team sauntered along placidly. Snow gathered on their harness straps, but not where the leather touched their bodies.
He didn’t bother to jiggle the reins. The roans picked out better paths, in the short term, than he could.
After twenty-three days in the mountains, he thought – he hoped – they’d covered about five hundred miles. He had no way to verify the number, but Lorel insisted they’d traveled over twenty miles a day. That would put them a little ahead of schedule. They’d lose that time once they lost the road.
He still wanted to know why there was anything resembling a road out in the middle of nowhere. Though at the moment, the ‘road’ seemed to be an accident of nature.
For the last few days, they’d traveled alongside a sullen river. The smooth gravel was easy on the horses’ hooves and the wagon’s wheels. They’d covered a solid thirty miles a day, according to Lorel, but he wished himself far away. The icy water stank worse than a dead skunk.
He pulled his hood down over his eyes. Fur tickled his nose, a wonderful, warm sensation. Even his stump had stopped aching. The serdil cloak, now lined with coney fur, had been Lorel’s best idea ever. Not that he’d dare admit it aloud.
More hooves clopped closer as Lorel and Tsai’dona rode up to the wagon.
Viper stuffed his book inside his cloak and shook the reins gently, trying to look like he’d been working instead of reading.
Tsai’dona had her hood up, hiding her face. He couldn’t guess at what she was thinking. Even though he’d known her for almost a lunar, he still didn’t understand her.
Lorel’s expression was easy to read. She looked bored. “How long are we gonna follow this old river?” Her voice was hoarse
from shouting over the constantly blowing, cold wind.
Snuggled inside his serdil cloak, he was warm enough to ignore the wind, though he was at least as bored as she was. And probably as hoarse. “For as long as it goes in the direction we want to go.”
“That ain’t no good reason.”
An easy path in the right direction was the best reason of all, even if it did curve around a bit. Not that his turybird would agree. “It gives us water.”
“We’re better off melting snow. Dirty, nasty river.” She wheeled the stallion around and kneed him into a trot.
He cringed and waited for the horse to fall, but Nightshade seemed as surefooted as the illusive mountain goats the Lorel wanted so badly. He shuddered at the thought. Mutton was bad enough, but wild mutton sounded absolutely foul. Even worse than filthy water.
She had a point, though. The river smelled like rotting eggs.
Viper twisted around and swung the wagon door up a few inches. He wedged it in place with a chunk of wood he’d carved for just that purpose.
The Kyridon poked its hooded nose under the door. “This one attends the hatchling.” Only its incredible blue eyes showed through the long gray fur. It looked like a mobile, rolled up rug.
Viper swallowed a laugh. The serpent wouldn’t like being compared to a carpet. He spread his hands, indicating empty mountain slopes. “Why is this river so dirty?”
“This one deduces its traits are due to the volcanoes.” It withdrew into the warmth of the wagon and knocked the chunk of wood out of the doorway.
Volcanoes? He thought volcanoes were just a myth. But this wouldn’t be the first myth that came to life in his travels. He studied the mountains with more interest and huddled deeper into his own serdil hide cloak.
“Fire!” Lorel rode her horse toward him at a full gallop, narrowly missing the slow wagon.
Tsai’dona’s horse trotted into sight in the distance. She, he guessed, had better sense than to gallop on icy gravel.
“Fire ahead!” She reined in until her stallion danced in circles beside the team. “A big old fire! We gotta turn back.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure! There’s a whole bunch of smoke coming from the top of the mountain ahead. You can see it from the bend.”
“The Kyridon says there are volcanoes nearby.” Viper waved northward. “Why don’t you wait until I –”
The ground shook violently.
Nightshade lost his footing and plunged toward the ground.
Moving faster than he’d thought possible, Lorel kicked free of the stirrups and jumped free.
The team lowered their heads and leaned together. Somehow they managed to stay on their feet.
The wagon bucked up onto its rear wheels and knocked Viper backwards, through the swinging doorway (which was not supposed to swing that way!) into the wagon. He tumbled down the steps and landed in a tangled heap near the bunks.
“This one infers a volcano in this vicinity is in the process of erupting.” The Kyridon peered down from the top bunk. “Is the hatchling injured?”
“Speaking of the deathwind.” Viper rubbed his head. “No, I’m not hurt. But I’m not sure about the girls.” He pulled his book out of his cloak, tossed it up to the top bunk, and crawled out of the wagon.
Lorel was on her feet and clinging to the bridle of her frightened horse. Its ears were pinned flat to its head.
“Are you hurt?” A silly question, since he couldn’t do anything to help her.
“I’m in one piece, but I can’t tell if Nightshade is or ain’t. Give me a hand.”
Maybe he could help. He dropped down to the ground.
The Kyridon poked its head under the swinging door. “This one discerns that the entranceway requires restoration.”
“Later. When I have time.” If he ever had any free time when they weren’t moving. He was days behind in his chronicles of the area.
He limped forward and grabbed Nightshade’s reins.
The stallion tossed its head and yanked him off the ground.
Viper held on with both hands. His foot dangled inches above the gravel. Thunderer! If the hunk of bahtdor bait decided to run off, there was no way he could stop it. It would drag him right along, probably straight into the river.
Lorel stroked the horse’s neck. “Nightshade, you stop that.”
The horse stomped its hooves, but seemed to listen to her. It lowered its head. The black ears pricked up.
His foot touched the ground again, praise the Thunderer.
She rubbed her hands down the stallion’s front leg. The horse quieted and turned its head to watch her. By the time she finished her examination, the young stallion was more interested in the tough river grass growing through the gravel than in running away.
“He’s whole, as far as I can tell.” Lorel wiped the sweat from her face and grinned, but her voice shook.
“Good.” Viper handed her the reins and limped back to the team, who were happily munching on grass. Such good, stolid animals. He was lucky that Lorel had picked these beasts instead of a pair of flighty warhorses.
Tsai’dona, wisely on foot, led her mare up to them. “That was interesting. Sumach doesn’t mind earthquakes at all. She just refuses to move.”
“Now wait a minute.” Lorel planted her feet and glared at both of them. “It ain’t Alignment time. What made that earthquake?”
“Don’t get mad at me. I didn’t do it.” Viper climbed up to the driver’s platform and shook the reins. The roans huffed, but leaned into the harness. “It’s the volcano. I hope it’s not too near the river. Mountain climbing might get a bit difficult with this wagon to drag along.”
“Thread-snipping cart.” Lorel swung into the saddle and glared at the pelt-covered wagon. “I never should’ve let you get the miswoven thing.”
“Without it, I’d have frozen to death by now. And you’d be carrying the Kyridon on your horse.”
Tsai’dona giggled as she mounted her mare.
“It ain’t that cold, and the slithering toad can ride its own horse.” Lorel sighed gustily. The wind swept away her frosty breath. “I figure you’re right, though. Come on. We’ll show you that ’cano thing.”
“It’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.” Tsai’dona turned her horse northward, waving for him to follow.
Viper saw smoke long before he reached the bend in the riverbed. When he finally got a good view, he gasped. No wonder Lorel had been panicked.
The mountain did appear to be on fire. Glowing red lava oozed down one side. It reminded him of his oldest sister when she was about to braid her hair. She certainly had a fiery temper to match molten rock.
But it didn’t seem to be near enough to be a danger.
He knocked on the wobbly door. “You really want to see this.”
The Kyridon poked its head under the door.
“See there.” Lorel pointed to the top of the mountain. “The smoke is coming from a hole up there.”
“The word the swordling desires is ‘crater’.” The Kyridon pulled its head back into the wagon.
So much for sharing an exciting discovery. Lorel was better company.
“Hush up, toad. You sure you want to go on, kid?”
“Of course.” Viper turned to the river. “We won’t get closer than this. The riverbed runs away from the volcano from here on. That should leave us a large enough safety margin.”
“It ain’t safety I’m worried about, kid.” Lorel glared up at the grumbling volcano. “But there ain’t nothing here I can fight.”
“Hey, look!” Tsai’dona pointed back toward the mountain. “Some of the red stuff is following us.”
“The red stuff is called lava. It’s melted rock.” He shook the reins, and the team seemed to move a little faster.
“I don’t think so, kid. That thing gots legs.” Lorel rode back toward the red spot, but her horse refused to go closer than fifty feet. “What’s wrong, Nightshade?”
&nb
sp; Tsai’dona’s little mare wouldn’t go even that close. She dismounted and strolled toward it. “Hey, it’s a big red lizard.”
A what? A lizard, here? He reined the team to a halt, clambered down from the wagon, and limped to her side. From thirty feet away, the creature looked like a stuffed harvest-carnival toy. “It reminds me of an iguana, but it’s red as a sunset.”
The plump, foot-long body was covered in pebbly, glistening ruby and glowing orange scales. Curved green spines poked out of its back like leafy scimitars. A bizarre creature, and oddly beautiful.
Lorel tied Nightshade to the back of the wagon and strolled back to them. “It reminds me of fresh blood that went and grew legs. What is it?”
Like he was supposed to know. “A lava lizard.” As good a name as any, for now. “Can we capture it? I’d like to study it.”
Tsai’dona shrugged and picked up a long stick. “Lorel, you’re fastest. Run back and grab a bag. A thick leather one.”
Lorel growled and planted her feet.
He raised his eyebrows at her. “Thunderer knows we’ll be here all day if you wait for me.”
She sighed and turned toward the wagon.
Tsai’dona poked at the lizard with the stick.
The wood burst into flame.
“Bog swallow it!” Tsai’dona danced back. “How’d that – Viper, run!”
The lizard raced toward him. Flames blasted from its mouth.
He turned to run, but came down hard on his missing foot. His padded boot slid off his ankle, and he fell onto the rocky soil. He curled up tight and tried to protect his head with his arms.
Tsai’dona screamed. Lorel shouted something.
The flaming lizard charged at him.
The girls weren’t close enough to help him. Becoming a crispy critter was not in his plans. Time for defensive action.
He cast a tight personal shield and wrapped it around him. A second shield, a vortex, followed, and third shield spun of flame surrounded both. If battling with RedAdder had taught him nothing else, he’d learned how to layer shields.
Heat scorched his foot, but no pain followed. He peeked under his arm.
Serpent's Child (The Mindbender's Rise Book 3) Page 18
