Like Maeve had changed Laret.
She paused, hands in the soil, and breathed deeply. She wasn’t angry at the fini or their guards or even Aesa. She was angry with herself for what she’d done in Aesa’s home, what she’d been about to do again before Aesa had walked in. She hadn’t thought about Aesa during her encounter with Maeve, only afterward, when guilt had begun to peck at her. But that guilt hadn’t been enough to keep her from wanting to make love to Maeve over and over again.
Someone touched her shoulder lightly, and Laret realized she’d been chanting under her breath. The sapling she’d planted yesterday had brushed her shoulder tenderly. Laret laid her chin against its slick bark.
“Do I not want to help these people, or do I not want to help Aesa?”
The sapling had no opinion. The door to the house opened, and Maeve stepped out. Her smile had a tinge of nervousness, but as Laret stood, her shoulders relaxed, and she wrapped her arms around Laret’s waist.
Laret tried to step away. “We shouldn’t—”
“She knows,” Maeve said, holding on. “She’s either pretending she doesn’t know, or she won’t let herself think of it, but her feelings are going to come bursting out soon.”
Laret let her arms slip around Maeve, keeping her dirty hands to the sides. “What are we going to do?”
Maeve laughed without humor. “About which part?”
Easier to speak of Aesa’s problem. “I’ll need to study this staff.”
“You’re going to help?”
“I suppose we must. Now that your people have discovered this place, do you think they’ll let it alone, that they’d let these fini, people they call sheep, live their own lives if freed?”
Maeve shrugged. “I’m not a thrain. I can’t say what Gilka would do. I agree about trying to see the staff. It might give us a better idea of what we’re dealing with.” She glanced back at the house. “When Aesa wakes, we should take a trip to Skellis.”
*
Laret and Maeve chatted like old friends, and even though it sounded forced from time to time, Aesa was relieved. She’d never liked to talk as she walked, preferring to be on the lookout for trouble. Talking to Laret gave Maeve something to do, and Aesa feared that if she spoke to them, she’d start a conversation she wasn’t ready to have.
As they laughed together, Maeve touched Laret’s arm. Aesa swallowed past a bitter lump in her throat. She should say something, do something, feel something, but all she could muster was vague unease. Several times, she nearly started a fight, hoping that would bring some feeling. Instead, she thought on who Ell might have become away from the pool.
When they reached Skellis just after dark, Aesa led them to Gilka’s longhouse, where Runa lived, but she paused outside the doors. “What do I say to get them to show us the staff?”
“Wait for an opportunity.” Maeve pushed inside the crowded common room. “There’s Gilka.” Before Aesa could ask what she was doing, Maeve strolled over to Gilka and introduced herself.
Gilka smiled and gripped Maeve’s shoulder warmly, asking her some question. Laret leaned close to Aesa. “Where is Gilka’s room? Or Runa’s? That’s probably where they’re keeping the staff. I’ll sneak in and have a look.”
Aesa had never thought to sneak. She’d had it in her head that she’d walk into the longhouse and confront the problem head on, but then Gilka would know that Aesa had disobeyed an order.
With a hollow in the pit of her stomach, Aesa led Laret toward the back of the longhouse. Runa emerged from a short hallway full of doors just as they arrived, and Aesa nearly yelped.
“Aesa.” Runa glanced at both of them. “Were you looking for me?”
“Um.” Aesa swallowed, feeling heat in her cheeks. “Yes.” She brayed a laugh, knowing she sounded crazed but unable to think of anything else.
Laret gave her a surprised look. “It was, uh, my idea. I wanted to meet you. I’m from Asimi, new among your people. I haven’t met many witches.”
“A blood witch.” Runa looked her up and down. “What sort of spirit power do you have?”
And then they were off, talking magic and wyrds, walking slowly into the common room. Aesa edged away. Now what? Wait for Laret to break away from Runa? The door she’d come from stood open, and Aesa could see the edge of a bed inside and the corner of a table. She slid sideways and spotted the staff resting against the table’s edge.
Should she take it? The thought made her fists clench. What in the name of the rotting gods was she doing even thinking about taking what was Gilka’s? Gilka probably wanted the fini to stay as they were. Docile, they were easier to control. And it could be that she intended to settle Fernagher after she’d killed the guards. A population willing to follow her every order might appeal to her. It made Aesa shudder, and she couldn’t help thinking that it should have made Gilka feel the same way. Even if it did, she might sell the land to someone else, like Ulfrecht. For all Aesa knew, that was the heart of their alliance.
Aesa edged inside the room before Runa decided to turn around. She took her belt knife and nicked a chip from the staff, catching it in the hem of her tunic.
When she returned to the common room, Runa barely glanced at her. Aesa felt as if she should run, but the woodchip pulled at her like an anchor. When Gilka’s arm settled around her, it was all she could do not to leap into the air.
“I think your bondmate is trying to charm me,” Gilka said near Aesa’s ear. She had a languid, drunken smile on her face.
“She likes complicated women.”
Gilka threw her head back and laughed. “Lucky for her, I’m happy with Runa.”
Aesa laughed along with her, but she clenched the woodchip tighter. Even with the laughter and camaraderie, her shipmates surrounding her, she felt completely alone, far away from Gilka and her crew, like someone stuck between thrall and warrior. After one raid, she’d never wanted to come home again, but now neither home nor raiding felt right, another in-between place.
Maybe she’d been headed for this ever since she’d seen Ell’s face. The thought made her want to roll her eyes. It was the part of the story she’d always hated: the romantic nonsense that got in the way of combat and glory.
Gilka shook her shoulder. “Cheer up, bear cub. We’ll be back on the water before you know it.”
As soon as Gilka turned away, Aesa ran out the door and leaned against the wall, breathing hard, her head pounding. Skellis was dim with torch and firelight, and Aesa clung to a shadow. In her mind, she saw the proving ground again, the stares of the crowd, the weight of Gilka’s eye. She remembered her want, her need. She remembered thinking she would sail under the strongest woman in the world, or she would become an outcast.
And now she’d stolen from her thrain. No, this wasn’t theft. It was betrayal. Raiding was what her people did; they deserved everything they could take. They did not sail from land to land making things fair for those who lived there. Her people didn’t see what she saw when she looked at Ell. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she be normal? She’d gotten everything she’d wanted, so why wasn’t she happy?
Aesa squeezed the woodchip until the ragged edge bit through her tunic. Had Ell cast some magic on her? When had her face taken the place of Gilka’s?
Or Maeve’s?
Laret’s touch made her jump. “Easy. It’s only me. What did you see?”
Aesa shoved her away. “Keep your hands to yourself.”
Laret’s eyes widened, the same face she’d made when Aesa had caught her and Maeve… Aesa turned and walked away as quickly as she dared. She didn’t want to rouse anyone’s suspicions, making her feel even more like a thief. She strode past houses and into the fields, into the darkness only dimly lit by the fires from Skellis and the moon above.
When Laret caught her again, Aesa lifted a fist as she spun. She saw Maeve’s surprised face and tried to stop her punch but knew she couldn’t.
Something curled around her wrist and jerked her backward, wrenchi
ng her shoulder and pulling so hard she came off her feet. The air rushed from her lungs as she landed in the dirt, her wrist encased in the green tendrils of a long plant. The woodchip had flown from her grasp, and a few steps away, Laret was chanting.
Aesa jerked against the plant’s grip, but it didn’t budge. “Let me go.”
Laret ceased her chant, but the plants didn’t relent. “Not until you calm down.”
“Now!”
“No.”
Aesa flung a dirt clod that exploded against Laret’s chest. She stepped back, frowning, but the plants didn’t relax. “I hate you!” Aesa cried. She searched for more dirt, but Laret began to chant again. Another tendril caught Aesa’s left arm and more snaked around her body. “Why did you do this to me? Why now? Why?”
And then she was cursing everything and everyone: the two of them, Ell, Gilka. She suddenly remembered the pain of her broken rib, the cruel edge of Gilka’s smile. Why couldn’t her dreams have come true as they were supposed to? Despite her struggles, the plants’ grip tightened until she was bound to the earth, spitting and heaving. Tears whipped around her face, and she breathed so hard she coughed as she wept.
Finally, when her heart had torn wide open, Aesa sagged against her bonds. “Why can’t we just go back and start everything over?”
And then Maeve was there like a cool autumn breeze, the soft touch of her spirit flowing over Aesa’s skin. The pain in her wrenched shoulder became a memory, and her tight throat eased, letting reason flow back inside. She blinked through hazy vision and saw the stars winking to life in the darkened sky.
“I’m sorry,” Maeve said. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.” Her kiss ghosted Aesa’s temple. “I love you both.”
“I never wanted this,” Aesa whispered.
Laret cleared her throat, the sound pure discomfort. The plants withdrew slowly.
Maeve’s spirit left with them, but her cool touch lingered on Aesa’s forehead. “Are you all right?”
Aesa sighed deeply. “I don’t know what to do anymore.” She sat up, brushing the dirt from her hair. “I feel like a thief.”
“But you believe in your cause,” Laret said.
Aesa nodded.
Laret held out a hand. “Better a thief who’s honest with herself than a warrior who can’t sleep at night.” She cleared her throat again. “And if it matters, I’m sorry, too, but I don’t think I could ever go back and start over.” She smiled lovingly at Maeve. “I wouldn’t want to.”
Aesa sighed. She knew that look. She’d felt it. She accepted Laret’s help and stood. “I got a piece from the staff. It fell over there.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Well,” Maeve said, “where shall we stay the night?”
Aesa sighed, knowing someone who would welcome them in Skellis, strange as she was.
*
Laret waited until the house had settled down. Aesa, Maeve, and their excitable though hospitable host Otama had finally fallen asleep before Laret crept outside, the wooden chip in her palm. Aesa had gaped when she’d touched it with her bare hand, but Laret hadn’t sensed any malevolence, and she wondered why Runa hadn’t felt the same.
She took a candle and settled between Otama’s house and the one next door in a shadowy little alley. What was she supposed to do with just a piece of a magical staff? She’d hoped to convince Runa to show it to her, but Aesa had sneaked off and gone running out, and Laret had thought it best to follow her.
Luckily, Runa had seemed very interested to speak with a curse breaker, asking all kinds of questions about what magic Laret had broken. She didn’t mention the fini, and Laret marveled at how she could dance all around a topic without speaking of it directly. She’d cast many glances Gilka’s way and spoken as if she’d do anything for her thrain. Laret wondered if she hoped to use the magic to make all of Gilka’s enemies as docile as the fini, easier to plunder.
And why was Laret involved in any of it? Her guilt had continued to eat at her the more she and Maeve spoke, and Aesa’s shoulders had hitched ever higher. She’d kept herself from speaking to Aesa, though, so guilt wouldn’t make her lash out again. She’d kept waiting for Aesa to give them some sign of anger. Finally, Aesa had obliged, yelling her childish hatred while Laret pinned her to the ground.
And guilt for that heaved inside her, too, like a knife in the gut, leading her to this fish-smelling town in the middle of the night, staring at a hunk of wood. With a sigh, she let her spirit slip free and felt along the chip, looking for magic.
It pulsed like a beating heart. Laret threw it away, barely closing her teeth on a yelp. It bounced off the adjoining house with a little thwack before falling to the dirt, just a chunk of wood once more.
“What are you?” she muttered as she bent to touch it. She’d felt power, deep and old. She’d once touched a stone said to be a remnant of the houri, the old folk, and it’d had a lingering echo of old power, but nothing like this, so immediate yet still so aged.
Around her, the town stayed dark. The weight of the power had been so immense, she thought that even non-witches might have felt it, but that wasn’t the way magic worked. She shivered and sat against the wall again. Even if another witch had felt it, they wouldn’t know where it had come from. She brushed the chip with her spirit, and it pulsed again, but she kept hold of it. Ancient magic coursed through it, vital and alive. The witches in Aesa’s mysterious new land were using houri magic, which meant they’d either found it, stolen it, or…
“They couldn’t be.” But Aesa had spoken of how strange they looked. Laret had assumed they’d sharpened their teeth or stretched their ears. She’d heard of people in the world who stretched their earlobes almost to their shoulders, but what if Aesa’s guards had been born different?
“Houri,” Laret whispered. Creatures long dead and gone from the world, who’d fought the tide of humanity and failed. What if they’d just withdrawn to a place where no human was supposed to find them, and they’d taken slaves on the way?
A cloud passed over the moon, deepening the shadows made by her flickering candlelight. Long ago, she’d explored a cave with the witch of Sanaan, and she’d seen houri artifacts, their detritus scattered all over the world, broken bits of stone or metal, a helmet nearly three times the size of her head. Ancient humans had drawn crude pictures of them, large beings accompanied by fearsome creatures as long as houses with a host of legs. They laid scores of men and women low, all over the world.
The witch of Sanaan had loved that cave, loved ancient relics and old tales. She’d spoken wistfully of how humans defeated the houri with sheer numbers, of how they’d almost destroyed each other. “They had castles made of coral and glistening abalone shell,” the witch had said. “And they were as beautiful as the dawn!”
Laret had nodded while doubting it all. The figures drawn on the wall hadn’t seemed beautiful but ferocious, terrifying in their power. “If they’d won, we wouldn’t be alive.”
“So smart, she knows everything,” the witch had said, glaring. “Alliances could have been made.”
“The tales say they thought us little more than animals.”
“And we haven’t proven them wrong!” She’d jabbed a crooked finger in Laret’s direction. “Who is the teacher, you or me?”
In Skellis, Laret stepped out from between the two houses, the night air chillier than she remembered. She blew her candle out and crept back inside Otama’s house.
Chapter Fourteen
Ell was up with the dawn, before any of the fini. She searched for Niall, ducking into the shaptis’ barracks and pretending she had a right to be there. She hurried through the sleepers, scanning faces and trying to hide the growing fear that he might have been sent elsewhere for good, that she might have to leave town to find him.
Leave town. The thought made her pause. If she left town, she wouldn’t have to fear that her emotions would be discovered, wouldn’t have to fear being dragged to the pools or killed. She’d traveled f
rom town to town before. The gray fini had carried food. Aesa had also carried a bag with food and water. Some of the shaptis had them, too. If Ell could find one, she could travel.
But who would protect her now that she knew there were people like Aesa’s in the world? And she’d heard of shaptis who killed any white-robed fini roaming alone without a clan, with no way to trace their bloodline. Then there were predators. Ell had once cared for a group of fini who’d been attacked by a wild beast. Many were so scarred, they’d had to put on the gray.
No, no, that was too many steps ahead. She left the barracks and searched the streets. Before she could travel, she’d have to escape the town. The guards at the pool might not have been paying attention, but those who watched the town would be more observant, especially because of Aesa’s people. The only fini who could come and go were the grays.
Ah! If she wore gray, she could slip away unnoticed. Gray fini didn’t have children. No one cared where they roamed. All she had to do was make herself ugly.
She shuddered. All she had to do was take everything a fini was supposed to be and unmake it, turn herself into a creature of pity, one beneath notice. The elders had taught her that one could feel sorry for the grays while rejoicing that she didn’t share their fate.
No, again. She should exhaust her first plan before her mind wandered further. Niall had hinted that he might understand her plight. He would know what to do. She continued to search, putting off any fini with the excuse that a shapti was looking for her. Whenever a shapti glanced her way, she ducked down another street, winding away from their gaze.
Late in the morning, she spotted Niall at the weapon house, and the sight of him almost made her cry out in triumph. He checked blades before loading them into a cart pulled by krissi.
When he saw her, he beamed. “Ell, what are you doing here?”
She glanced at the other shaptis who carried weapons to and fro. “You sent for me, Niall.” When he stared at her blankly, she added, “You wished to continue our earlier conversation.”
Thrall Page 17
