Path of Blood

by Diana Pharaoh Francis

  “I make them think I’m a tree,” he added with a little shrug.

  “A tree.”

  “I think—I think I’ve done it all my life. I didn’t know I was doing it. But since . . .” He trailed off.

  Reisil didn’t push him. It was a hard confession. “You do it with the mosquitoes too?”

  He nodded.

  “And everything else . . . you just send out a magic message that says, ‘I’m not tasty, I’m a tree.’ What happens when termites get the message? Or a wood-pecker?”

  He smiled stiffly. “Then I become earth or water.”

  Reisil stuck her tongue out at him and his smile widened.

  “Can’t you tell them I’m a tree too? Or show me how.” she demanded, scratching a welt that looked like it had been left by a mosquito the size of a horse. It was a mistake.

  “No!” he said sharply, and then marched away into the trees.

  Stupid, Reisil chastised herself. And pointless. He was never going to need magic. Not really. He wasn’t going to fight the Scallacians or the wizards. He wasn’t going to fix Mysane Kosk. She had no reason to push him.

  “I guess the leeches and mosquitoes are entitled to their dinner,” she said sourly, and added some wood to the sputtering fire.

  The rain began just as Yohuac returned. He carried one of the tree beasts that chattered and hectored them from the canopy. Its fur was black with crimson and white patches around its eyes and it had a long, ringed tail. Reisil tried not to see any more as he set about gutting it. The little animals had a human quality that made the eating of them uncomfortable. Still, her stomach growled and gnawed at her backbone, convincing her that no matter what they looked like, the beasts were tasty.

  Yohuac put the meat on to roast with some pinkish tubers he’d dug up. Reisil, in the meantime, set the wards and began working on something to keep Saljane dry. If she could make a ward for Soka, then surely she could make something to keep the rain off Saljane. She used a wood button, no bigger than the nail on her little finger. As with Soka’s ward, she set the spell with her words. She thought about borrowing from the rinda she’d learned from the wizards and the few she’d learned from Nurema, but decided against it. At least she knew exactly what these words were; she knew exactly what the spell was supposed to do.

  With a yawn and a groan, she struggled to her feet, going to where Saljane perched on Baku’s back. From her pack she had taken a thick thread. She strung the button on it and tied it to Saljane’s leg.

  ~It’s not too tight?

  ~No. It will keep the rain away?

  ~I hope so.

  In fact, much to Reisil’s surprise and pleasure, not to mention Saljane’s, the ward did work. The rain sheathed off a finger’s breath from the goshawk’s body. She was able to fly and hunt, though she could do little of either in the middle of a pounding rain. Pleased with her success, the next night Reisil made one for herself. She added a bit to keep the leeches off. Yohuac refused her offer to make him one.

  “The pahtia begins soon,” he said. “I must prepare my body for it.”

  There was more to it than that. Reisil could see it. He’d not pulled away from her, but there was something. . . . She couldn’t put her finger on it. But there was a subtle shift, as if part of his mind were somewhere else, somewhere dark. She didn’t press him to talk about it. She had her own secret fears. Not the least of them was meeting the nahuallis and getting the answers she needed.

  On the sixteenth day in Cemanahuatl, the travelers came to Yohuac’s home. Oceotl, Yohuac’s tribe and village, was situated in a lush pocket-valley at the base of a thundering waterfall. The sides of the valley were terraced, the floor an undulating field of yellowing kalmut grain growing to Reisil’s waist. The village sat at the far end of the valley on a rocky hummock surrounded by young Brischil trees. Dome-shaped houses covered the hummock like bees on a hive. At least two hunded of them. They were made of stranglevines planted in circles and trained up a central post. These were interwoven with other vines and strips of bark, and roofed over with palm fronds. Small holes in the fronts provided doorways. There were no windows in any of them.

  The houses surrounded a flat, cleared space on the top of the hill that had been paved with red glazed tiles. The borders held a pattern of a black jungle cat running and leaping. There was a great red-clay bowl in the center, fully eight feet across, where a fire could be built. Next to it was a large building, capacious enough to hold several hundred people. Two large Brischil trees anchored its ends.

  The fields and terraces were bustling with people, the first they’d seen in Cemanahuatl. It had surprised Reisil until Yohuac drew a map of the terrain. There was a sacred circle surrounding the Monequi, the mountain of the fifty-two gods. No one was permitted to live inside this circle. The Oceotl’s tribal territories were the closest going eastward.

  The noon sun shone bright and hot, giving relief from the constant rains of the past two weeks. Steam rose up in misty tendrils from the ground and forest, and rainbow light sparkled in the air. Reisil could hear the sounds of singing and babies crying and dogs barking. Birds chirped and warbled; insects whirred and chittered. She could hear the creak and rustle of the trees, and the crash of arboreal animals bounding across a trail only they could see. There was a smell of heady richness to the air, of fertile growth and exotic flowers.

  Twining with the natural fragrances were the delectable odors of roasting meat and baking bread. Reisil’s stomach growled loudly. She made a face at Yohuac, who handed her a smooth-skinned red fruit from those he carried in his pack. Its flesh was yellow and sweet. Reisil took it gratefully, eating it quickly and wiping her hands on her pants.

  “Ready?” His face was remote and expressionless.

  She nodded, her stomach tensing. She resisted the urge to snatch Yohuac’s hand, as if she could keep him by her side that way. He’d played his part to bring her here. Now he would go his own way, competing in the pahtia so that he could breed magic back into Cemanahuatl, while she learned what she needed to save both their worlds and return home to Kodu Riik. But the sorrow of that loss was eclipsed by the fear that surged suddenly through. The fear she’d managed to ignore until now.

  ~Do not underestimate what you can do.

  ~And what if I can’t figure it out? Reisil asked, putting words to the dread that threatened to smother her with its impossible weight.

  Saljane was silent for so long that Reisil thought she wasn’t going to respond.

  ~If you cannot mend the spell, then everyone will die and no one will be left to care, came Saljane’s unhelpful response at last.

  ~That’s encouraging.

  Saljane nipped Reisil’s ear sharply, making Reisil yelp.

  ~It is what is. You did not cause this.

  As if that were any reason to feel better. Reisil rubbed her ear.

  ~If I don’t find an answer here, I don’t know where else to look. And she wasn’t all that certain there was an answer to find anywhere, but she didn’t say it.

  ~We won’t give up.

  ~We won’t give up, Baku repeated, startling Reisil. She turned to look at him as he crawled down the path behind. His black hide was daubed with mud and dusted with yellow pollen. But his presence was solid and sure, and Reisil took comfort in it. She nodded to him.

  ~We won’t give up. She squared her shoulders and thrust out her chin. There. That was one thing she could be sure of.

  They proceeded a few hundred feet along the path. It zigzagged in a long switchback, through trees and open ground. They came to a wide spot where a carved post had been set upright on the valley’s verge. The wood was satiny and dark, almost black, and carved like the face of one of the tree beasts. It was snarling and its teeth were long and sharp. Yohuac halted beside it, making a hooting-whistling sound through his fingers and then resting his palm on the top of the animal’s wooden head.

  Reisil felt a tingle of magic sweep her skin and eyed the post suspiciously. She blinked
into spellsight, and saw that the post was a ward. It was inscribed with four of the nahuallis’ unfamiliar rinda. They were overlaid on one another in an intricate puzzle-shape.

  “We must wait here until they come for us,” Yohuac said, not removing his hand from the post. Reisil wondered what would happen if he did.

  The minutes ticked past slowly, and Reisil found herself drawn to the edge of the clearing. The brush and trees had been cleared from all around their vantage point, allowing them a good view down into the kalmut fields. The village was hidden by the mountain’s stone shoulder, and as she watched the play of the cataract frothing into the pool below, Reisil realized that they made prime targets, exposed as they were on the hillside. Which was, no doubt, the point.

  ~They are here.

  Saljane mantled, straining herself upward, her head twisting from side to side. Baku gave a low, warning snort and went very still, only the tip of his tail flicking back and forth. He’d clearly sent a warning to Yohuac, who stood rigidly, as if expecting a blow.

  A host of warriors came out of the grasses on either side of the trail. They had Yohuac’s dark coloring, his black hair, blunt, prominent features, and strong, graceful limbs. They wore their hair braided with beads, and each wore a treasure’s worth of gold. They were quiet and predatory. They carried bows, spears, short swords, and blowguns, and several had other weapons Reisil couldn’t identify.

  No one spoke. The warriors ghosted out of the grass and stood waiting with weapons aimed, eyes inscrutable and hard. Reisil flicked a sharp glance at Yohuac, but he continued to wait, hand resting on the post.

  Reisil didn’t know how much time had passed. Sweat trickled down her back, and the bottom of her right foot itched horribly. And she had a strong urge to urinate. Still, the ring of men surrounding them didn’t look particularly sympathetic to her need. She shifted her weight and the nocked arrows before her lifted a hairsbreadth. Reisil froze.

  At last the nahuallis came. She knew they were coming long before they emerged from the trees and rocks obscuring the trail below. They radiated power and a kind of presence that hinted at the beating heart of the world. For a moment, before they came into sight, Reisil thought they must certainly be superhuman, like the Lady with her crystal talons and unworldly eyes. But they were just women.

  There were seventeen of them. They walked up the trail in two parallel lines, with one in the lead. They were dressed simply, with short tunics, trousers, and belt pouches. They wore their hair loose and long with none of the braiding the men favored. They wore an Iisand’s ransom in gold and stones: earrings and necklaces, wrist and armbands, rings and headbands. Everything about them was graceful, seductive, and primal. None carried anything more threatening than a knife, but Reisil could feel their menace. She swallowed, her throat dry. No wonder Yohuac wanted to throw himself on the ground when he was around them.

  The nahuallis reached the outer edge of the surrounding warriors and broke apart, threading through until they’d grouped around the travelers. None spoke, but paced in a circle, scrutinizing each intruder from head to toe. Now that Reisil could see them up close, she realized the women represented a range of ages, from a girl just stepping into womanhood, to a middle-aged mother whose hair was liberally streaked with gray. They were each strong, supple, and fit.

  Finally they came to a halt as if by command. Reisil wondered if they had some sort of silent speech, the way the ahalad-kaaslane did. A younger woman, perhaps a few years older than Reisil, approached. Her nose was crooked and her eyes were a pale honey-brown. Her teeth were bright white and her lips were sensuous and full. She stopped, her legs spread, her gaze fixed on the golden ivy trailing down Reisil’s jaw and neck. She lifted her hand as if to touch it, but Saljane snapped her beak and the woman pulled her fingers back, rubbing them together thoughtfully.

  She opened her mouth and spoke, rattling off in a language Reisil didn’t understand. Reisil frowned, shaking her head. By the Lady, she’d gotten so used to the fact that Yohuac spoke the Kodu Riikian language that it hadn’t occurred to her that she would need to learn his!

  ~I can give it to you as I gave him yours, Baku said.

  ~Too late now. They know I can’t. It’ll be strange if suddenly I can. And I’m not sure they should know about you and Saljane being able to speak, or do magic.

  ~They will know my nature, if they care to look.

  ~I know, but they might think you’re some kind of pet. Let’s leave it that way for now, all right? Until we know more about what we’re getting into.

  Reisil couldn’t say what drove her caution. But the wizards had seemed friendly and welcoming before she realized what they were—when she already knew what they were. The nahuallis might be no better. Reisil wasn’t going to take the chance.

  ~Tell Yohuac. Don’t let on about you and Saljane.

  Baku agreed. The nahualli turned away from Reisil and went to Yohuac. There proceeded a lengthy conversation with her asking short, clipped questions and him making long, humble explanations. His hand never left the post. Could he even lift it? Reisil blinked into spellsight, trying to decipher the ward. It was interwoven so tightly, she couldn’t tell what it did. But as she looked closer, she could see that his hand was held in a pair of what looked like spectral jaws with cruel, hooked teeth.

  Anger made Reisil act without thinking. She reached for her power. It whipped out, catching the jaws of the ward and snapping it in two. There was a loud crack! like summer thunder. It echoed from the valley walls and scorched through the air as the ward shattered and the post burst into flame. Yohuac jerked his hand free just in time.

  There was a moment of frozen stillness. Suddenly the nahuallis whirled on Reisil. There was a rush of friction in the air as magic collected in a vortex. Their impassive masks dropped and their faces came alive with emotion. Yohuac began yelling. Reisil drew on her own power, feeling it erupt into flames around her hands. Saljane shrieked, her wings snapping wide, buffeting Reisil’s cheek.

  Yohuac leaped forward, standing with his back to Reisil and facing the nahuallis, ratcheting out words in a sharp staccato. He dipped his head so that he was staring at the ground, his hands lifted in suppliance.

  Seeing his attitude, shock struck Reisil like a physical blow and she realized her mistake. Bright Lady! What was she doing? But her anger flared again when Yohuac dropped to his stomach. Reisil could barely hold herself in. She lifted her gaze to stare at the nahualli witch who’d first questioned her. Their eyes locked and held. Reisil’s vision began to swirl with a red haze, and she knew her eyes were turning red and the ivy on her face was flaring gold. She smirked when the nahualli’s arrogance faded for a moment and uncertainty made her frown.

  And then the uncertainty was gone. She stiffened, staring arrogantly at Reisil. She reached out deliberately with her foot and set it on Yohuac’s head. His voice cut off. There was a growl in Reisil’s head from Baku. The coal-drake’s talons cut deep gouges into the dirt.

  The nahualli’s smug expression dared Reisil to do something. Reisil’s fingers curled, and sparks of magic danced hot and sharp across her skin. But she held back. This was not what she’d come to do. Nor would Yohuac forgive her for rescuing him. It wasn’t her place.

  For long moments she waited, neither bowing nor battling. They had sent for her to help. She would not come as a servant or a beggar. The moments stretched and finally the nahualli stepped back and said something to Yohuac. He rose fluidly to his feet. The nahualli examined him, reaching out to touch his hair. He flushed, staring at the ground, answering her questions in short, dull phrases. She stood back, her expression dark with emotion Reisil couldn’t read. She spoke again and now Yohuac turned to Reisil.

  “I’ve told her who you are. She asks if you will come to the village.”

  Reisil’s brows flicked up. “Asks, does she? I bet. Well, tell her I’ll come.” And tell her she might learn some manners. But Reisil didn’t say it. Antagonizing them wouldn’t help. She let h
er magic seep away, the red haze clearing from her vision. A sign of good faith.

  Yohuac relayed her message and swiftly the group began down the path. The nahuallis arrayed themselves around Reisil and Baku, with Yohuac squeezed out to trail behind. The warriors followed, their weapons still held at the ready.

  ~Quite a welcome, Reisil said waspishly to Saljane.

  ~Be careful with them, Saljane replied, her steel mind sharp with suspicion.

  ~They are hungry, came Baku’s gravelly voice, tight with anger. They covet you.

  Covet? The word sent a chill through Reisil’s blood. She thought of the wizards and the nokulas. She was beginning to feel like a juicy bone amongst starving wolves.

  She lifted her chin. Let them do their worst. They’d find she was harder to swallow than they thought.

  Chapter 25

  It grated on the nahuallis that they could not communicate with Reisil without Yohuac’s help. Reisil couldn’t help but enjoy their consternation. Their haughtiness reminded her of the arrogant Scallacians, and she did not like the scornful way they treated Yohuac. She thought of Juhrnus and his doomed feelings for Kedisan-Mutira. Trust them both to choose such impossible, hopeless loves.

  As they descended down the trail into the village, people crowded around in watching silence. There was a wariness to them, a tautness that came from living with constant danger. She didn’t see any children.

  ~They have hidden them, Baku inserted suddenly.

  Reisil started, wondering if Baku was going to continue to pass her information. It would be a whole lot easier if he could just tell her what the nahuallis were thinking. She sighed quietly. Or maybe not. She already didn’t like them much. And if she actually knew what they were thinking, she had a feeling she’d like them less. And her stealing their secrets wouldn’t make them interested in helping her. They’d probably do the opposite. Better to just negotiate her way normally and hope Baku would warn her if they were plotting something truly dire.