Sandu ate his supper quietly as he listened. Cara watched Alex with rapt attention.
"You said that the undead slaughtered each other," Sandu said between mouthfuls. "So they can be killed?"
"Yes, but it's not as easy as it would appear. Some have been hanged or decapitated, yet came back – though I believe losing a head will kill a prowler. Fire destroys their bodies, making it the surest way. I've read, too, that a stab in the heart is as final as fire."
"What about novums and herbs? All the stories say that prowlers hate them," Sandu said.
Alex shook his head. "It's not the 'godly presence' that drives the undead from the novums. It's the incense; they're quite sensitive to smells. And garlic sears them, though why I don't know."
Sandu's spoon scraped the empty bowl, and he put it down. He reached for the wineskin and drank. It tasted fruity, with soft undertones that he couldn't quite place; certainly the finest wine he had ever had. Feeling almost guilty for drinking it, he handed it back to Alex. The scholar leaned in closer to Cara, explaining more about the fampir. Sandu looked away from them, reminded again of those first days with Tambrey.
He stood abruptly and gathered their bowls and utensils, muttering about cleaning them. The other two barely glanced at him. As he walked toward a small stream, Sandu peeked over his shoulder at them. Envy burned in his stomach, for he had once had such attraction, and then lost it. My own damn fault. Sandu again pushed the memories deeper. She's gone. You can't go back to her.
Sandu scrubbed at the bowls, his thoughts growing dark. If you turn Cara in, you'll be ruining what they have. Just like you did with Tambrey. Just like Jagger. He scowled, and mumbled to himself, "There's gotta be an easier way to get five marks than to betray everyone you know." Maybe he could grab Galen and leave in the middle of the night. Cara would be hurt, but no worse than if she learned the truth. The thought made his head hurt. He couldn't just leave her.
I'm going to give up the job, Sandu decided. I can't have this guilt shadowing me my whole life. He returned to camp and settled into his blankets. Eventually, he heard Alex say his goodnights and walk away, and then Cara settling down to sleep. When he heard her breath turn slow and steady, he reached for his pack.
By the light of the fading fire, Sandu looked over the bounty list. Names had been added and crossed out, and other hunters had marked their intention to locate Cara. He tasted stale regret, staring at her name. Five marks. She's worth more than that. Sandu pricked the back of his hand with his quill and crossed out his name. I'm done.
For a moment, the blood shone bright on the parchment. Then something happened that had never happened before: his line sank into the paper, leaving no trace he had ever made it. Sandu gaped, his thoughts running wild. He tried again, and again the mark vanished. What's happening? Almost frantic now, Sandu wildly crossed out his name, his quill biting into the parchment with his ferocity.
The lines all disappeared.
Sandu thrust the list into his pack, his breath catching in his throat. Why won't it work? The headache from earlier returned, more painfully this time. Sandu threw off his blankets and stumbled to the stream. He tossed water over his face, the chill refreshing on his flushed skin.
The pain grew and grew, building in his temples and behind his ears. His eyes watered with it. He shut them, but it didn't help. It felt like his whole head would burst.
He opened his eyes, then quickly shut them, sure he had gone mad. He waited a breath, then tried again. This time, the vision came more clearly. An old man had appeared in front of Sandu. He wore a tunic with long, wide sleeves under a heavy robe. His outline, though, was blurry, almost wavering, as if he wasn't quite there. Every time Sandu's eyes focused on a new spot, the man shifted there.
"What in the–"
"Shut up and listen," the man said, glaring. "This is a tricky spell and one I hate to use for long. Gives me a damned earache."
"Are you a wizard?" Sandu asked, feeling dumb.
"No," the old man replied irritably. "Stop asking questions, it only makes you sound like an idiot. I'm Laris Stanthorpe, the master of your guild. Stop your tongue, boy. I know you've found the girl, I wouldn't be here otherwise. No, I don't care to tell you how I know. What's important is that you bring her to me, as quickly as you can."
"What do you want–"
"I said shut it." Stanthorpe waved a hand and muttered something, and Sandu's tongue lodged itself firmly behind his teeth. No matter how he tried, he couldn't budge it. Stanthorpe continued, "Now then. I noticed you trying to back out of the job. It's unacceptable. You belong to me, remember. I made you what you are. If you won't bring her willingly, I'll find other ways. Unpleasant ways." Laris stepped forward, his blurred shape growing large. He grabbed Sandu's chin, staring into his eyes as he whispered in a strange language. Sandu felt a cold sensation creeping through his skin. His tongue didn't respond, though he wanted to demand what was happening.
"There," Laris said, releasing Sandu. "I'll be able to find you wherever you go. You can't escape from me. Bring the girl to Riverfen. Once you're there, write me a letter and say these words: Exus marinel causin. It'll find me, don't worry about that. If you don't, if you let her go her own path...let's just say that Autorus will meet you far sooner than you'd like."
Sandu's vision blurred as the old man shimmered and disappeared. His tongue slid itself free, and he mumbled, "Vecking bastard."
He thought of his father, rotting in a cell and waiting desperately for each penny Sandu sent. Five marks would erase the debt Papa had taken for him with plenty to spare. But Cara needs me, too. Even with Alex here now...who knows if Renna is still alive? And after all this, I doubt Cara can return to Kell as if nothing's changed. Deep in his gut, Sandu knew that he wanted to stay with her. How long had it been since he had a true friend?
Not since Jagger, and Sandu had picked money over him. See how that turned out?
Then before Jagger...there was Tambrey. He lost her because of money. Every time he tried to do something right, it had hurt others.
Sandu remained by the stream for a long time, his thoughts dancing around in his aching head. He couldn't sell Cara, but if he stayed Laris would find her anyway. I don't trust him, and I don't think he'll do right by her.
The only right thing is to leave and hope that no one else finds her. Alex is with her now; he'll keep her safe.
Sandu walked back to the camp on numb feet. Without thinking, he rolled up his blankets and tied them to Galen. His horse blinked at him, but didn't make a sound. "Good girl," Sandu murmured. He heaved his pack onto his shoulders and led Galen away.
Cara turned over in her sleep, making a small sound. Sandu looked back at her. "I'm sorry, but this is the only way."
He left her sleeping. Maybe he should have written a note, but he didn't know what he could say. Besides, if he lingered too long, he'd lose his courage.
Sandu led Galen away from the caravan, despondent yet sure that he was doing the right thing. He'd ride as far as he could get that night, then start early in the morning. The "where" and "what he'd do now" he had no idea, but he knew that anything was better than endangering his friend. I could be a farmhand, or a scribe for a minor lord. Become a peddler again, though how I'd buy the wares I don't know...
A shadow disconnected itself from a tree in front of him. Sandu jumped, his hand flying to his dagger, before he realized who it was.
"Alex, what are you doing out here?" Sandu asked. In the scarce moonlight, he couldn't see the scholar clearly.
"It's my shift," Alex said simply. He wiped at his hands with a kerchief. "And I had to relieve myself."
Sandu held onto Galen's reins, painfully aware of how he must appear. He said, "Well, then. I'm no threat, so I'll just–"
"Where are you going?" Alex's tone was friendly, though Sandu thought he heard some suspicion in it.
"Away," Sandu answered truthfully.
"Does Cara know?" When Sandu didn't reply, Alex sighed
. "Sneaking away in the middle of the night often speaks of nefarious deeds."
"It's none of your concern," Sandu snapped. "It's for her own good."
"You're her friend, aren't you? Tell me how abandoning her does her any good."
"You wouldn't understand."
"Not if you don't tell me."
Sandu gritted his teeth. He had hoped to slip away with no one the wiser, but now that Alex had caught him, he felt caught between his conscience and his desires. He said, "It's a long story."
Alex moved closer to him, his face hidden by shadows. "We have all night. There's a log over there; sit with me."
With his courage ebbing fast, Sandu felt compelled to obey. He dropped Galen's reins and joined Alex on the mossy log. He stared at his hands, not meeting the other man's eye.
"Are you afraid of what Cara is?" Alex asked bluntly.
Sandu shook his head. "No. She wouldn't hurt me. But if I stay, I'll hurt her."
"How?"
"I've made a lot of mistakes in the past," Sandu said. Maybe I can skirt around it. "I've lost people because of them. I'm afraid I'll make another mistake."
"You seem a loyal man. I don't believe you'd leave just for fear of a mistake yet to be made." Alex's voice was soothing and warm, and Sandu relaxed slightly. I can trust him, he thought. He's harbored many secrets at that university.
"I'm a bounty hunter," Sandu said. He spoke quickly, trying to just get it all out. "I'm supposed to bring Cara to my guildmaster; she's worth five marks to him. But my last bounty...I ruined his life. His wife's dead because of me. But I need the money for Papa. I need it badly. Yet I can't betray Cara. Not after all we've been through together."
"Then don't betray her. Don't bring her to the guildmaster."
It sounded so simple when Alex said it, but Sandu knew it to be a false hope. "He spelled me. Says he can find me wherever I go, and that if Cara's with me, he'll get her. So you see? I have to leave for her own good."
Alex shifted beside him. Sandu wished he could bury his head in the mulch and be left alone. But the scholar stayed, and after a moment said, "You're not alone anymore. I have contacts in Riverfen. We can protect her."
"But his magic–"
"He's not the only wizard in the world." Alex stood up, brushing off his breeches. "You're her friend; she needs you. Come back to camp with me."
Sandu wavered, hoping that Alex spoke true. If he's right, then I can stay with her and Laris won't come between us. He took Alex's proffered hand and stood. "You won't tell her all this?"
"It's not my truth to tell."
After a moment's hesitation, Sandu nodded. "Alright. Let's go back to the camp."
His heart was lighter now, for he wanted to be with his friend, but he couldn't help but second-guess his decision. Then Alex fell into step beside him, and Sandu felt more confident. Together we can help her.
Chapter Fifteen
Jagger
JAGGER'S CHEST throbbed, the cut in it congealing too slowly. He made his way to his packs, found the hooked needle and catgut, and collapsed to the ground. No water to clean it. Not that it mattered. A cut this shallow wouldn't do much harm, not to him. He'd been cut far worse in his time. His fingers shook as he threaded the needle. Harder than it looked, this. Astounding how women did it without any trouble. He laughed at that, then coughed, a coppery taste filling his mouth. He spat. Vecking bitch.
He stuck a piece of wood in his mouth, bit down, hard, then stabbed the needle into his flesh. Sharp thrills of pain shot from the new, tiny wound. Jagger grunted. A tailor working in living fabric, he closed the cut with rudimentary stitches. Every once in a while, he had to pause, to wait for the agony to subside, but he never waited long to start again. Might get too scared that way and not finish the job. When all was said and done, fourteen jagged black stitches held the oozing wound shut. He tied off the gut and used a small knife to cut it. The threat having passed, he looked around him, regaining his bearings. Sandu and his monster friend had fled back to the main road, no doubt. Which way from there? Down into the valley, probably. Coming from the mountains, going to the rivers and streams. He should've killed Sandu when he'd had the chance, but he couldn't resist the urge to tell Sandu that he knew, to see the fear of certain death in the bastard's eyes.
Another head-on attack would not end well, that much was certain. The prickling cut he had just closed was proof of that. The girl – whoever she was – was strong. Strong and dangerous. Where had Sandu found her? Was she a lover? Perhaps he could get to her, use her against Sandu. But if she meant nothing to him...no, there had to be something else. Sandu has to suffer before he dies. What does he love? Himself, that damn horse. Me and Raven, once upon a time. Clearly not anymore...
...The young man stood dripping in the rain, his dark hair plastered against his wet forehead. His soft brown eyes looked up cheerfully at Jagger.
"Who the veck are you?" Jagger asked, peering from the cracked doorway. "What do you want?"
Shrugging, the man said, "Food and a bed for the night, and a place to keep my horse. I have goods to barter, too."
"Peddler?"
He nodded.
"What happened to Dirrard?"
"Broke his leg under a fallen cart, poor fellow. Asked me to take his route up here, at least for the time being. Oh, here, I have a letter from the Guild that allows me to trade in this region. What can I call you, good sir?"
Jagger held the letter inside to peruse it. Seemed genuine enough. Handing it back, he said, "I'm neither good nor a 'sir.' Jagger works for me. I'm goin'ta have to take you up to the Archmaster afore you can trade or sleep."
"Thank you, Master Jagger. My name's Sandu Crin."
"Didn't say I cared." At last opening the door, Jagger stood aside to let the man pass. Crin smelled of horse and dripped all over the Lofalin rugs that had been imported just last month. If Jagger had a mind for expensive things, he would have rebuked him. Instead, he wordlessly walked up through the keep, already regretting taking Hepel's door shift for the night.
He wished Crin would have been quiet, too.
"I haven't been through Daggenhelm before. Never heard of this keep, neither. What sort of business would you run all the way in the middle of the mountains, a hundred miles from nowhere? Had to ask all throughout Havish Pass for directions, I did. Most people didn't seem to want to say anything. Say, Jagger, that's an unusual name, I've only heard of one...man..."
The man stopped in his tracks. When Jagger glanced back, he was met with a horrified expression. Crin stammered, "You're...no. You can't be...but..." His eyes darted down to Jagger's fingers. Jagger, a glint of humor in his eye, held up his hands, missing pinkies and all.
"You're Jagger Cross, the Heartless. Eightfingers. The Bl-"
"Bloodied Giant, yeh, yeh. We've all heard the stories. Veck, I've lived them. Welcome to Daggenhelm, Master Crin. Home of Fauste's Shiv. Dirrard traded with us, made good coin, and kept his mouth shut. Now you can either follow me and swear an oath of silence to the Archmaster, then barter and partake of our hospitality as you wish. Or, Master Crin, I can drag you outside like a dog and rip your lungs out. Your choice."
"I'll speak with the Archmaster, please."
Once the peddler had been properly threatened and his compliance assured by the Archmaster, Jagger led him down to the dining hall and gave him a bowl of soup and some mead. At this hour, just after the seventh bell, guards, laborers, and Shivs all sat shoulder to shoulder drinking and laughing. Jagger always liked it at this time of day. Most of the others didn't speak much to him, but he liked to sit and watch them. Pretend he was normal, at a tavern or the like, just a normal man.
"How'd you lose your pinkies?" Sandu asked, blowing on his soup to cool it.
Jagger didn't look at him. "None of your damn business."
"Fair. They're old scars, though. Probably sometime in your youth, I'm guessing. Vandalism? Or thievery? I've seen the like many times before. I wandered the streets for a tim
e, too. Me and the whole gang, we thought we owned Dunfrey." He laughed a little. "Can't say how many fingers ought to have been cut off me, if the law was as good as people like to think it is."
Despite his usual aversion to people, this lad didn't irk Jagger overly much. Jagger looked curiously at him. Apparently taking that as a sign, Crin continued, "I never in my life thought I'd meet you. Mam used to tell me stories of the Heartless. I remember us sitting around the fire, wagons at our backs, and she'd always warn us that if we didn't behave on the road tomorrow she'd call for Jagger Cross to come get us."
"I never kidnapped anyone," Jagger said. Well, maybe he had, but only as part of a larger job. Murder, extortion, and torture were his oats and honey.
"No? Honestly, that surprises me. Well, in any case, it scared the shit right out of us. And now here I am, sharing a meal with the storied monster of my childhood."...
...Jagger made his slow way through the trees and onto the road. A few rain clouds had gathered on the horizon as sheets of grey poured down on unseen regions, a gust of wind bringing the tantalizingly sweet smell to his grateful nostrils. After he resettled his pack on his shoulders to ease the pain in his chest, Jagger walked stiffly down the road, his mind spinning around a thousand thoughts of revenge. Sandu had once told him that he came from a Valadi family. Those Gallic bastards were close, weren't they? The Sarga tribe, that was it. Striking at them would hurt Sandu to his very core.
With each slow, measured step, rage built itself from his feet to his crown, stacking in jagged layer upon layer. His thighs warmed as the heat of it traveled up, his chest wound throbbing in dull harmony, his fingers twitching with the thought of Sandu's life choked out between them. With each step, the anger threatened to boil over, to force him to stab a passing farmer or throw knives at the bright trees. But he resisted. He had to save it, hold it inside until his job was done.
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