Vows And Honor Book 1: The Oathbound
Page 25
my brother's family after the plague six years ago."
He could continue no further.
Kethry's breath hissed softly, and Tarma swal-
lowed an oath.
"Your knowledge of what interests us is very
accurate, merchant," Tarma said after a long pause.
"I congratulate you."
"You—you accept?" Discipline could not keep
hope out of his voice.
"I pray you are not expecting us to rescue your
lost ones," Kethry said as gently as she could. "Even
supposing that the bandits were more interested in
slaves to be sold than their own pleasure—which in
my experience is not likely—there is very, very
little chance that any of them still live. The shel-
tered, the gentle, well, they do not survive—shock
—successfully."
"When we knew that the packtrain had been
taken, we sent agents to comb the slave markets.
They returned empty-handed," he replied with as
much stoicism as he could muster. "We will not ask
the impossible of you; we knew when we sent for
you there was no hope for them. No, we ask only
that you wipe out this viper's den, to insure that
this can never happen to us again—that you make
such an example of them that no one dares try this
again—and that you grant us revenge for what they
have done to us!" There—that was his full hand.
Would it be enough?
His words—and more, the tight control of his
voice—struck echoes from Tarma's own heart. And
she did not need to see her partner to know her
feelings in the matter.
"You will have that, merchant-lord," she grated,
giving him the title of respect. "We accept your
job—but there are conditions."
"Swordlady, any conditions you would set, I would
gladly meet. Who am I to contest the judgment of
those who destroyed Tha—"
"Hush!" Kethry interrupted him swiftly, and cast
a wary glance over her shoulder. "The less that is
said on that subject, the better. I am still not al-
together certain that what you were about to name
was truly destroyed. It may have been merely ban-
ished, and perhaps for no great span of time. It is
hardly wise if the second case is true to call atten-
tion to oneself by speaking Its name."
"Our conditions, merchant, are simple," Tarma
continued, outwardly unperturbed. Inwardly she
had uneasy feelings about Thalhkarsh, feelings that
had her ready to throw herself between Kethry and
anything that even looked like a demon. "We will,
to all appearances, leave on the morrow. You will
tell all, including your fellow merchants, that you
could not convince us to remain. Tomorrow night,
you—and you alone, mind—will bring us, at a meet-
ing place of your choosing, a cart and horse. . . ."
Now she raised an inquiring eyebrow at Kethry.
"And the kind of clothing and gear a lady of
wealth and blood would be likely to have when
traveling. The clothing should fit me. I will be
weaving some complicated illusions, and anything I
do not have to counterfeit will be of aid to me and
make the rest stronger. You might include lots of
empty bags and boxes," Kethry finished thoughtfully.
Tarma continued; "The following morning a fine
lady will ride in and order you to include her with
your next packtrain. You, naturally, will do your
best to dissuade her, as loudly and publicly as pos-
sible. Now your next scheduled trip was—?"
"Coincidentally enough, for the day after tomor-
row." Grumio was plainly impressed. It looked as
though he'd decided that Tarma and her partner
were even cleverer than he'd thought.
"Good. The less time we lose, the better off we
are. Remember, only you are to be aware that the
lady and the packtrain are not exactly what they
seem to be. If you say one word otherwise to
anyone—"
The merchant suddenly found himself staring at
the tip of a very sharp dagger held a scant inch
away from his nose.
"—I will personally remove enough of your hide
to make both of us slippers." The dagger disap-
peared from Tarma's hand as mysteriously as it
had appeared.
Grumio had been startled, but had not been par-
ticularly intimidated; Tarma gave him high marks
for that.
"I do not instruct the weaver in her trade," he
replied with a certain dignity, "nor do I dictate the
setting of a horseshoe to a smith. There is no reason
why I should presume to instruct you in your trade
either."
"Then you are a rare beast indeed, merchant,"
Tarma graced him with one of her infrequent smiles.
"Most men—oh, not fellow mercenaries, they know
better; but most men we deal with—seem to think
they know our business better than we simply by
virtue of their sex."
The smile softened her harsh expression, and
made it less intimidating, and the merchant found
himself smiling back. "You are not the only female
hire-swords I have dealt with." he replied. "Many
of my trade allies have them as personal retainers.
It has often seemed to me that many of those I met
have had to be twice as skilled as their male coun-
terparts to receive half the credit."
"A hit, merchant-lord," Kethry acknowledged with
open amusement. "And a shrewd one at that. Now,
where are we to meet you tomorrow night?"
Grumio paused to think. "I have a farmstead. It's
deserted now that the harvest is in. It's just outside
of town, at the first lane past the crossroad at the
South Trade Road. No one would think it odd for me
to pay a visit to it, and the barn is a good place to
hide horses and gear."
"Well enough," Tarma replied.
All three rose as one, and Grumio caught the
faint clink of brigandine mail from Tarma's direc-
tion, though there was no outward sign that she
wore any such thing beneath her worn leather tu-
nic, brown shirt and darker breeches.
"Merchant—" Tarma said, suddenly.
He paused halfway through the door.
"I, too, have known loss. You will have your
revenge."
He shivered at the look in her eyes, and left.
"Well?" Tarma asked, shutting the door behind
him and leaning her back up against it.
"Magic's afoot here. It's the only answer to what's
been going on. I don't think it's easy to deceive this
merchant—he caught on to our 'divide and con-
quer' trick right away. He's no soft money-counter,
either."
"I saw the sword-calluses." Tarma balanced her-
self on one foot, set the other against the door, and
folded her arms. "Did he tell us all he knew?"
"I think so. I don't think he held anything back
after he played his high card."
"The niece? He also didn't want us to know how
much he valued her. Damn. This is a bad piece of
business. Poor bastard."
"He'd rather we thought the loss of goods and
trade meant more to him," Kethry replied. "They're
a secretive lot in many ways, these traders."
"Almost as secretive as sorceresses, no?" One
corner of Tarma's thin lips quirked up in a half-
smile. The smile vanished as she thought of some-
thing else.
"Is there any chance that any of the women
survived?"
"Not to put too fine a point upon it, no. This—"
Kethry patted the hilt of her sword "—would have
told me if any of them had. The pull is there, but
without the urgency there'd be if there was anyone
needing rescue. Still, we need more information, so
I might as well add that to the set of questions I
intend to ask."
Concern flickered briefly in Tarma's eyes. "An
unprepared summoning? Are you sure you want to
risk it? If nothing else, it will wear you down, and
you have all those illusions to cast."
"I think it's worth it. There aren't that many
hostile entities to guard against in this area, and I'll
have all night to rest afterward—most of tomor-
row as well, once we reach that farmstead. And my
'arsenal' is full, my nonpersonal energies are com-
pletely charged, and my other-Planar alliances doing
well. It won't be any problem."
"You're the magic-worker," Tarma sighed. "Since
we've hired this room for the whole evening, want
to make use of it for your magicking? It's bigger
than our sleeping room."
At Kethry's nod, Tarma pushed the table into a
corner, stacking the benches on top of it, while
Kethry set the oil lamp on the mantlepiece. Most of
the floorspace was now cleared.
"I'll keep watch on the door." Tarma sat on the
floor with her back firmly braced against it. Since it
opened inward, the entrance was now solidly guarded
against all but the most stubborn of intruders.
Kethry inscribed a circle on the floor with pow-
ders from her belt-pouch, chanting under her breath.
She used no dramatic or spectacular ceremonies for
she had learned her art in a gentler school than the
other sorcerers Tarma had seen. Her powers came
from the voluntary cooperation of other-Planar en-
tities and she never coerced them into doing her
bidding.
There were advantages and disadvantages to this.
She need not safeguard herself against the decep-
tions and treacheries of these creatures, but the
cost to her in terms of her own energies expended
was correspondingly higher. This was particularly
true at times when she had no chance to prepare
herself for a summoning. It took a great deal of
power to attract a being of benign intent—particu-
larly one that did not have a previous alliance with
her—and more to convince it that her intent was
good. Hence, the circle—meant not to protect her,
but to protect what she would call, so that it would
know itself unthreatened.
As she seated herself within the circle, Tarma
shifted her own position until she, too, was quite
comfortable, removed one of her hidden daggers,
and began honing it with her sharpening-stone.
After some time, there was a stirring in the circle
Kethry had inscribed, and Tarma pulled her atten-
tion away from her task. Something was beginning
to form mistily in front of the seated sorceress.
The mist began to revolve into a miniature whirl-
pool, coalescing into a figure as it did so. As it
solidified, Tarma could see what seemed to be a
jewel-bright desert lizard, but one that stood erect,
like a man. It was as tall as a man's arm is long, and
had a cranium far larger than any lizard Tarma had
ever seen—except perhaps the image of Gervase
that Kethry had used to entertain Liha'irden. Fire-
light winked from its scales in bands of shining
colors, topaz and ruby predominating. It was re-
garding Kethry with intelligence and wary curiosity.
"Sa-asartha, n'hellan?" it said, tilting its head to
one side and fidgeting from one foot to the other.
Its voice was shrill, like that of a very young child.
"Vede, sa-asarth," Kethry replied in the same
tongue—whatever the tongue was.
The little creature relaxed, and stopped fretting.
It appeared to be quite eager to answer all of Kethry's
questions. Now that the initial effort of calling it
was done with, she had no trouble in obtaining all
the information she wanted. Finally she gave the
little creature the fruit she'd been toying with after
supper. It snatched the gift greedily, trilled what
Tarma presumed to be thanks, and vanished into
mist again.
When it was completely gone, Kethry rose stiffly
and began to scuff the circle into random piles of
dirt with the toe of her boot. "It's about what I
expected," she said. "Someone—someone with 'a
smell of magic about him' according to the khamsin—
has organized what used to be several small bands
of marauders into one large one of rather formida-
ble proportions. They have no set camp, so we can't
arrange for their base to be attacked while they're
ambushing us, I'm sorry to say. They have no fa-
vored ambush point, so we won't know when to
expect them. And none of the women—girls, really—
survived for more than a day."
"Oh, hell." Tarma's eyes were shadowed. "Well,
we didn't really expect anything different."
"No, but you know damn well we both hoped,"
Kethry's voice was rough with weariness. "It's up
to you now, she'enedra. You're the tactician."
"Then as the tactician, I counsel rest for you."
Tarma caught Kethry's shoulders to steady her as
she stumbled a little from fatigue. The reaction to
spell-casting was setting in fast, now. Kethry had
once described summoning as being "like balancing
on a rooftree while screaming an epic poem in a
foreign language at the top of your lungs." Small
wonder she was exhausted afterward.
The sorceress leaned on Tarma's supporting shoul-
der with silent gratitude as her partner guided her
up the stairs to their rented sleeping room.
"It's us, Warrl," Tarma called softly at the door.
A muted growl answered her, and they could hear
the sound of the bolt being shoved back. Tarma
pushed the door open with one foot, and picked up
one of the unlit tallow candles that waited on a
shelf just inside with her free hand. She lit it at the
one in the bracket outside their door, and the light
from it fell on Warrl's head and shoulders. He stood,
tongue lolling out in a lupine grin, just inside the
room. He sniffed inquisitively at them, making a
questioning whine deep in his throat.
"Yes, we took the
job—that's our employer you
smell, so don't mangle him when he shows up to-
morrow night. And Kethry's been summoning, of
course, so as usual she's half dead. Close the door
behind us while I put her to bed."
By now Kethry was nearly asleep on her feet;
after some summonings Tarma had seen her pass
into unconsciousness while still walking. Tarma
undressed her with the gentle and practiced hands
of a nursemaid, and got her safely into bed before
she had the chance to fall over. The kyree, mean-
while, had butted the door shut with his head and
pushed the bolt home with his nose.
"Any trouble?" Tarma asked him.
He snorted with derision.
"Well, I didn't really expect any, either. This is
the quietest inn I've been in for a long time. The job
is bandits, hairy one, and we're all going to have to
go disguised. That includes you."
He whined in protest, ears down.
"I know you don't like it, but there's no choice.
There isn't enough cover along the road to hide a
bird, and I want you close at hand, within a few
feet of us at all times, not wandering out in the
desert somewhere."
The kyree sighed heavily, padded over to her, and
laid his heavy head in her lap to be scratched.
"I know. I know," she said, obliging him. "I don't
like it any more than you do. Just be grateful that
all we'll be wearing is illusions, even if they do
make the backs of our eyes itch. Poor Kethry's
going to have to ride muffled head-to-toe like a fine
lady."