I turned to Ryshad who was leaning on the tiller with unseeing eyes. “Ryshad?”
He smiled at me. “I just remembered where I’ve seen this stone before. One of Messire D’Olbriot’s sisters has some pieces, passed to her by an aunt from one of the House’s cadet lines. She got them from some ancestor who married into a family trading out of Blacklith.”
“When we get back, you might like to ask your D’Olbriot just where his kin by marriage were trading in the Dalasor grassland clans,” Sorgrad remarked as he leant into his oar. “Now, where are we’re heading?”
“Just out of sight of Rettasekke and across the strait,” Ryshad told him. “I’ll be cursed before I flog you all the way up to where Olret suggested.”
“Cursed by me, that’s for sure.” ’Gren looked at Ryshad. “You don’t trust him?”
It’s always reassuring to have people thinking the same way as me.
“I don’t trust his reasoning.” Ryshad checked wind and wave before leaning on the tiller. “His route would take far too long. I want to be ready to hit Ilkehan as soon as we can.”
“If his attack goes badly, Olret might just give us up to save his own skin,” I pointed out. “He was discussing some kind of a truce when Ilkehan mutilated his son.”
“That lad’ll likely lose the other eye, even if he lives,” grimaced Sorgrad. “I’ve seen it before with a blinding.”
The memory of the tortured boy prompted another long silence as we toiled up the Rettasekke coast.
“This is our closest approach,” Ryshad announced some while later. “Shiv, you and Livak take the second set of oars and for all our sakes, match your stroke to hers.”
Rettasekke reached out into the sea, rising up to a headland faced with sheer cliffs. Distant Kehannasekke lurked just visible, a long sweep of low land among the ever-present mists across the open water. I made my way gingerly up the boat to join Shiv on the forward thwart.
“I’ll keep us balanced,” Shiv assured me.
“What do you think we’ll find when we land?” asked ’Gren. “Do you think Ilkehan truly has Eldritch Kin to call up and do his will?”
I was regretting telling him what the children had said. “Let’s just get safely ashore, shall we?”
“As long as the mist hobs don’t get us first,” chuckled ’Gren.
“What’s one of those, when it’s at home?” I demanded.
“They blow in with the fogs and tempt away children and goatlings and foolish hounds,” said ’Gren with relish. “They carry them off on the back of the north wind.”
“Do you suppose these people share many myths with yours?” Shiv asked ’Gren thoughtfully. “Childhood nightmares would make useful illusions to clear our path out of there.”
“That’s a sound notion,” Ryshad approved.
“What would scare you, ’Gren?” I corrected myself. “What would scare normal people?”
He laughed. “There’s wraiths. They’ll suck the light out of your eyes, given half a chance.”
“Wraiths live in dark holes and you can generally avoid those,” countered Sorgrad. “Gwelgar always worried me more. They make themselves out of mud and grass and that’s everywhere.”
“They rip evildoers limb from limb,” said ’Gren gleefully.
“If the bones of a soke’s ancestors feel someone guilty of a mortal crime passing their cave, they summon up a gwelgar,” Sorgrad explained. “It follows the guilt in their footsteps and nothing stops it, nothing kills it, nothing throws it off the scent.”
“According to our Aunt Mourve,” ’Gren continued sourly, “after it’s killed whoever it’s hunting, it goes looking for naughty children to give them a good spanking.”
“I never liked her,” remarked Sorgrad.
I wouldn’t exactly call it entertainment but, between them, Sorgrad and ’Gren had enough fables of disconcerting horrors lurking in mountain crevices to take our minds off the backbreaking work of rowing. Even so, by the time we reached Kehannasekke’s sprawling maze of salt marsh and treacherous sands, my shoulders were burning and my arms trembled between every time I hauled on the oar.
Ryshad was scanning the shore for somewhere solid enough to set foot. “Over there.”
As soon as we were all on the dubious safety of a stone-spotted bank of dour grey sand, Sorgrad pulled out a dagger and ripped a rent in the hide hull. “Cast it adrift,” he ordered. “We don’t want anyone thinking Rettasekke men have landed.”
Ryshad shoved it off into the retreating ripples with one booted foot. He smiled reassurance at me. “We’ll be leaving by magic or not at all.”
“Let’s get on.” ’Gren was already heading for the grass-tufted dunes inland, bag slung over his back.
No one wasted breath on idle chatter as we hurried into the shelter of the dunes. The sands gave way to a narrow expanse of close-cropped turf but thankfully any goats were off being coiffed for the summer. I murmured the Forest charm for concealment as we darted across, feeling as vulnerable as any hare started from its form until we reached the broken, hostile land beyond. Stark grey hills rose all around us. Not the raw peaks of Rettasekke, these mountains had been worn to low nubs by countless generations of cold and storm. Screes striped the steeply sloping sides of a cleft that offered our only path.
“Where do we run if we meet trouble?” Sceptical, I looked at treacherous slopes offering scant safe footing.
“We don’t,” Ryshad said, drawing his sword.
“We kill it.” ’Gren was scouting eagerly ahead.
Thankfully we didn’t meet anyone, just spent an interminable day negotiating ankle-wrenching rock fields, skirting bogs that could swallow a horse and cart and skulking along the edges of the few patches of land that showed any sign of tillage or grazing. We ate as we walked until finally the curious, endless dusk of these northern lands began shrinking the world around us. Shadows gathered in hollows and dells, gloom thickening beneath the few spindly trees. Beneath the translucent lavender sky, darkness shifting and deceiving the eye, I could see how people might believe in Otherworldly creatures using such half-light as a path between their realm and ours. I rather wished ’Gren had kept some of his more bloodcurdling myths to himself.
“This looks a good place for the night.” Shiv pointed to a tangle of stunted birch trees, dry earth bare beneath them.
Sorgrad dumped his satchel and rummaged in it for some food. “Let’s have a plan before the morning,” he suggested. “Something a bit more definite than ‘just kill Ilkehan’. Surprise will be everything, if we’re to get in and out alive, so we need to know exactly what we’re doing and not waste a breath as we do it.”
Ryshad lay down on the dry ground and stretched his hands over his head. “How do we get inside the keep for a start?”
“How do we find out where he is inside it?” added Sorgrad. “We don’t want to be wandering round, knocking on doors.”
I patted the pouch where my parchment crackled. “I can use one of the Forest charms for finding prey to seek out Ilkehan.”
“You’re sure?” Ryshad couldn’t help himself.
“Of course she is, and so are we.” ’Gren winked at me. ”Belief’s everything with Artifice, isn’t it?”
“Remember what Guinalle said about Artifice and Ilkehan?” Shiv was kneeling by a paltry spring whose flow was soon sucked back into the thirsty land. “The more shameful we can make his death, the more effectively we destroy the power those enchanters in Suthyfer rely on.”
“You can leave humiliating the corpse to me.” ’Gren looked disconcertingly eager.
“Is this safe to drink?” At Shiv’s nod, I dipped a handful from the little pool and drank gratefully. “Lore and Artifice seem centred on these hargeards, these stone circles. Could we destroy Kehannasekke’s?”
“It’s an obvious thing to do,” Sorgrad agreed.
Ryshad sat up and found himself some food. “Shiv?”
“If we find the hargeard, I can destroy it.
” The mage waved a hand containing a hunk of bread. “As long as I don’t have some Elietimm clawing the wits out of my head.”
“So we need to find the hargeard circle before we move on Ilkehan.” Ryshad pursed his lips. “As soon as he’s dead, we break his stones, so to speak.”
’Gren chuckled at the jest.
“We’re sure to be seen, doing all this.” I rubbed wet hands over my face to shed some of the day’s grime. “Let’s make that work for us, if we can. You recall the children said Ukehan’s in league with these gebaedim, Eldritch Kin, whatever they are. Is there any way we can go in disguised as vengeful spirits? If we frighten people thoroughly enough, they won’t stop to look too closely.”
“More to the point, they won’t have the first clue where we came from.” Ryshad nodded.
“If they think we’re immortal, maybe they won’t bother trying to kill us.”
’Gren liked that idea.
“I’ll settle for not missing a sword at my back because I’ve got this cursed hood up,” I said with feeling.
“The problem is, we can’t have Shiv working illusions until Ukehan’s dead.” Ryshad knitted concerned brows.
“If we can find the right plants, I can turn us black haired and blue skinned with no need for magecraft.” The wizard chuckled. “Living with Pered, I’ve learned more about dyes and colourings than any sane man could ever need to know.”
Sorgrad laughed. “That’ll be worth doing just to see Halice’s face when we get back.”
“What are we looking for?” ’Gren went to root among the plants crouching along the line of the inadequate stream like some oversized truffle hound.
“Flagflowers, if you can find them.” Shiv stood up. He went foraging and soon returned with his hands full of pale, knobbly roots with dark earth and a few sprigs of spite nettle still clinging to them. “Mind those leaves, they sting.” He dumped the lot into my startled hands.
“Good thing we’re here in the growing season,” I remarked.
Ryshad scratched his head. “Can I see the map, Shiv, before you start painting us like marionettes?”
Shiv dropped more roots on the grass, and wiped his hands on his breeches before getting out the much-creased parchment. “We’re two, three days’ hard march from Ilkehan.” His finger wavered over our general location then touched lightly on a spot just beyond the little castle symbol Pered had used for Kehannasekke’s keep. “That’s where we were captured last time.”
“Which would be a good place to find somewhere to hide up,” Ryshad mused. “In those hillocks just inshore.”
Sorgrad came to look. “We want a vantage point, so we can keep a good watch for at least a full cycle of the guard.”
’Gren appeared, hands full of dripping roots and Shiv hastily whipped the map out of danger. ”I’m ready to fight anyone, any time of day.”
“We know,” I told him repressively. “Try for a little patience. Shiv’s got to paint us up like Eldritch Kin for a start.”
Sorgrad looked curiously at Shiv. “Just how are you going to do that?”
“Who’s carrying a candle?” Shiv squatted down and began shaving spite nettle roots into fine strips with his belt knife. “And I need something to hold water.”
Sorgrad sighed as he produced a small silver cup from his belt pouch. “I generally use this for wine.”
“Don’t see a lot of that around here.” ’Gren dug in his pockets and produced a candle end. I found two short stubs in my pack.
Ryshad offered a plain horn cup to Shiv. The wizard took it. “Thanks. I reckon using magic for this is safer than lighting a fire. Smoke and light will carry and it’ll take ten times as long.”
Ryshad nodded reluctantly. “I suppose Ilkehan would have to suspect someone was using magic to come looking for it, but the faster the better, Shiv. We’ll keep watch all the same.”
Apprehension prickled between my shoulder blades as I matched Ryshad walking around the isolated dell, looking up and down the narrow winding valley, straining to hear any hint of booted feet or stifled whispers in the darkening shadows. I sternly curbed my fancy when I found I was dwelling on all the things that could go wrong with this madcap scheme. All right, it was a high stakes game, the highest in fact, but the trick to any hand is playing each throw of runes as they fall. I had plenty of advantages on my side as well; Ryshad’s intelligence, Shiv’s magic and the brothers’ capacity for unflinching mayhem. And it was Sorgrad who’d taught me you win even the most trivial of games by playing as if you were gambling with Poldrion for his ferry fee to the Otherworld.
“Ready.” Shiv called in a low voice. The sight of ’Gren rubbing blue candle grease into his face gave me the first good laugh of this day and a good few since.
“Do you think we’ll set a new fashion?” Sorgrad was kneeling with his head bent as Shiv carefully slopped black liquid into his hair.
“How easily will this wash off?” I dipped a suspicious finger into the smoky blue tallow.
“I’m not sure,” Shiv answered frankly. “Don’t put it on too thickly. A little will go a long way and we don’t have any to waste.”
“I’ll do you, if you’ll do me,” invited Ryshad, scooping some into his palm.
“That’s the best offer I’ve had all day.” I fluttered flirtatious eyelashes at him.
Ryshad’s hands were gentle on my face as I relished in my turn the feel of bristles roughening his strong jaw and the smoother skin around his hairline. He brushed his lips against the inside of my wrist and we shared a private smile. If this was all the intimacy we could get before we risked our lives, we’d make the most of it.
“So, we watch the keep and work out where Ilkehan will be.” Sorgrad returned to planning the detail of our attack as he lifted his chin to colour his neck. “What’s our actual path in?”
“Through the drains and cellars?” I suggested. “That’s the way we got out last time.”
“We go straight for Ilkehan, hit him as hard as we can, all of us at once,” said Ryshad.
Sorgrad nodded. “Kill him before he can decide which of us to attack first.”
I couldn’t restrain a shiver. “It’s not going to be like last time,” Ryshad promised, holding my gaze.
“We should use some black in the last of the skin paint,” ’Gren said suddenly. ”Fill in the hollows of our eyes, like Sheltya do.” His hair was black as midnight now and his teeth were startling white against a face almost the hue of the dusk sky above.
“That’s a sound idea.” I’d forgotten how unearthly that made the Mountain practitioners of Artifice look.
“I wonder what the Sheltya know of the Plains People and the Eldritch Kin,” mused Ryshad.
“We’ll ask Aritane when we get back, shall we?” I smiled at him.
“When we get back,” he echoed.
“Who’ll be buying the drinks?” demanded ’Gren. It plainly didn’t occur to him that there was any doubt we would be getting out of this. I decided to adopt his certainty. Belief was everything in these islands, wasn’t it?
Suthyfer, Sentry Island,
7th of For-Summer
I do not see that you have the authority to tell me I cannot come.” Temar silently cursed whatever god had made Halice taller than him.
“We’ve made our plan and you agreed it.” Sat on a crude bench outside the cabin, the level strokes of her whetstone didn’t vary as the mercenary sharpened her sword. “Changing horses midstream is a quick and stupid way to drown. Yes, Pered?”
“Sketches of the enchanters.” The artist waved a sheaf of parchment scraps. “I’ve done my best from Guinalle’s descriptions.”
Halice nodded. “Given them to Minare and Rosarn. Tell Vaspret I want to see him, if you get a chance.”
Pered swept a mock salute and sauntered off.
“If I come with you, I can lead another assault.” Temar wasn’t going to give up that easily.
“Leading assaults isn’t your job,” said Halice bl
untly. “You’re not leading a cohort any more, you’re leading a colony.”
“With every man we can muster, we could finish this tonight,” cried Temar. “Kill Muredarch and have done.”
“You’re forgetting those enchanters,” Halice chided. “We’re hitting the stockade, that’s all.” She tilted the blade to catch the firelight and studied the edge. “I’d like to string Muredarch up by his pizzle for what he did to Naldeth, but all in good time, my lad. Tonight we free as many prisoners as we can and then we run before those enchanters have their hands off their tools long enough to wonder where their boots are.” Halice held the heavy sword’s hilt easily in her broad hand and very carefully shaved a little swathe through the dark hairs on her forearm. “As soon as Livak tells us Ilkehan’s dead, we’ll make Elietimm and pirates both sorry they ever set eyes on each other.”
What if Ilkehan couldn’t be killed? Temar was trying to find the words to ask this without risking rebuke when Usara came out of the cabin.
“Could you keep the noise down?” the wizard asked with terse politeness. “Guinalle’s overtired and overwrought. You two bickering out here is the last thing she needs.”
“How’s Naldeth?” asked Halice.
“Asleep.” The wizard looked weary to the bone. “If you can get anything more out of Guinalle than ‘he’s as well as can be expected’ let me know.”
“Are the pirates still convinced there’s no way we can reach them at night?” Halice demanded.
Usara nodded. “Them and the enchanters as well, apparently.”
“Then she should sleep while we go and prove them wrong.” Halice slid her sword into its sheath. “Temar, tell Guinalle we’ll need her rested if we bring back wounded. She might take heed of that. Darni!”
The burly warrior was a little way down the beach, mercenaries and sailors gathered round him.
“She says she can’t rest in case Naldeth suffers some crisis.” Usara’s thoughts were still inside the hut with Guinalle. “He’s lost so much blood, she’s worried she’ll have to strengthen his heart again. I could do that much with wizardry but she won’t even let me try.”
Assassin's Edge Page 36
