Lioness of Kell

by Paul E. Horsman

  Jurgis was silent for a moment. ‘Sounds a lot like how the warlocks do it with their birthmothers.’

  He’s right, Maud thought. I never saw it that way. ‘It wasn’t always like this. Before we left Old Kell, we lived in villages, as families. When we came here, and the Turnabout changed everything, we started doing it the present way. It was a necessary offer. We had lost so much in the Unwaari war and we needed to be strong again.’

  ‘It’s like I told my father,’ Basil said behind them. ‘We must go home. Back to Vanhaar, to Old Kell. Back to how things were.’

  Jurgis nodded. ‘I agree, if the warlocks come out of their towers more often; mingle with the people instead of hiding in seclusion. And the Kell must start living like equal partners, or your meek men fade away and what will you do then?’

  ‘Damn!’ Maud pulled a face. ‘You do know how to punch hard.’

  ‘No Kell feels a soft punch,’ Jurgis said with a grin.

  CHAPTER 21 - WISEWOMAN

  On his way forward, Jurgis stopped, his need to piss forgotten as a young girl came up the gangway. She was a Kell, nearly as black as Maud, but with her hair made up as a bird’s nest, and dressed in a flowing robe of gauze as thin as cobweb that betrayed every inch of the strong body underneath.

  ‘You, male!’ she said in a tone that roused hot rage in Jurgis’ breast. ‘I am seeking the Lioness Maud of the M’Brannoe. Tell her I come for her.’

  Jurgis closed his mouth with an audible snap. He’d met plenty rough girls in Brisa. Harbor whores, tavern wenches, pickpockets; all coarse and often foul-mouthed women, but none had ever displayed the soul-wrenching arrogance of this barely dressed chit.

  The girl frowned at his silence. ‘Are you dumb, male? Go quickly, and warn the lioness I am here. Jump to it.’

  ‘Well, it’s that you ask it so kindly,’ Jurgis said. ‘And who might you be?’

  ‘Don’t be impertinent!’ The girl’s eyes flashed. ‘My name is not your concern. Go and fetch the lioness.’

  Without another word, Jurgis strode back to their cabin. He slammed the door shut behind him and Maud turned around, her sheathed sword in her hand. ‘Something wrong?’

  Jurgis cursed. ‘There’s a girl come on board. A terribly arrogant, snotty girl in the most nekkid robe I ever saw. She wants to see you.’

  ‘A naked robe?’ Maud frowned. ‘Then she’s a wisewoman. The young ones like to go about in transparent drapes.’ She prodded Jurgis’ breastbone with a finger. ‘Don’t you believe for a moment her dress has anything to do with her being hot and cuddlesome. A wisewoman isn’t a warrioress. We’re generally easygoing; they are the opposite, and this girl’s nakedness is a deadly trap. She’d remove the manhood of any offender even quicker than I would.’

  Jurgis growled. ‘That ill-mannered child cuddlesome? I’d rather mount one of those pewbara cats.’

  ‘Much safer. Was she alone?’

  Jurgis thought back and shook his head. ‘No. She had an attendant. A boy. He wasn’t much bigger than I and looked scared as hell.’

  Maud sighed. ‘They sent us a difficult one.’

  ‘Not all your wisewomen are wise?’

  ‘Forget it. They’re no better than warlocks.’

  Back on deck, the girl was standing stiffly at the gangway, her attendant like a shadow at her shoulder. All at once, Jurgis got an impression of insecurity in her stance. The boy is scared of her, he thought. But what is she afraid of?

  Maud lifted her hand in a ritual greeting. ‘I see you, little sister.’

  The girl returned the salute. ‘May you shine brightly, Lioness. I am the Initiate Wemawee of the M’Arrangh.’

  At this, Maud stared. ‘You’re a M’Arrangh? But they were all expelled.’

  ‘Not all,’ the girl said, and she pressed her lips together.

  A silence followed.

  ‘It’s not something I speak of,’ Wemawee said after a moment. ‘The Elder Wisewoman sent me. I know the key to the traitors’ gatherhouse. She told me to guide you, though I have never been inside myself.’

  So that’s it. Jurgis studied the thin, dark face and the blue eyes, so clear with Maud, but in this girl opaque as deep-frozen pools of ice. She’s one of those hated M’Arrangh. She’ll have been walking on eggs all her life.

  ‘That is most excellent, little sister,’ Maud said formally. ‘We are happy with your assistance.’

  Jurgis thought to see a flash of annoyance cross Wemawee’s face at the “little sister”, but she didn’t say anything.

  ‘Come with me,’ Maud said. ‘You can stay in our cabin while we prepare ourselves.’

  ‘I prefer to wait on the quay,’ the initiate said. ‘My male isn’t comfortable here.’

  The boy looked unhappy at this, but he didn’t say anything.

  Maud nodded politely. ‘As you wish.’

  Without another word, the young initiate left the ship, with the boy trailing behind her.

  ‘Her male?’ Jurgis said, as they walked back to their cabin. ‘Does that mean what it sounds like?’

  ‘She means her lover, yes.’

  ‘Slave, more likely. She isn’t as certain as she looked. The boy looked scared, but I’d say more of her than anything else. With her it’s something else.’

  Maud was silent for a moment. ‘All the M’Arrangh fled to the continent after Kelwarg’s fall. So how come she is still here?’

  ‘She seems a double handful of trouble to me.’ Jurgis shrugged. ‘Scared and very young.’ Then he thought of something. ‘She isn’t a warrioress; does she have those same urgings?’

  ‘That’s what makes her dangerous,’ Maud said. ‘Wemawee at sixteen, and full of untried magic, wrestles even more with her urges than I did when I met you. Hence the lover. He won’t have an easy life with her; she’s likely demanding a lot from him. And even with an attendant, she’ll be extremely unsafe, emotionally.’

  ‘Fine,’ Jurgis said. ‘An uncontrolled magic-user; just what we needed.’

  ‘And we do need her,’ Maud said. ‘She’s got the key.’

  ‘I’ll go and fetch Basil.’ Jurgis turned away. ‘He won’t fall for her nudity and we might need his magic.’

  The streets of Tar Kell were clean and organized. Pedestrians used the sides of the street, while ox-drawn carts plodded in the central lane, one after another, all without their drivers pushing and screaming at each other. Nobody spared a glance for Wemawee, striding in her semi-nudity as if the town belonged to her, yet somehow all traffic managed to let her pass unhindered.

  They went by the royal palace main entrance, and crossed a square lined with uniformly big, imposing buildings.

  ‘All these are gatherhouses,’ Maud said. ‘One for every clan.’

  Jurgis stared at the buildings. ‘They’re not very original.’ They looked ugly and pompous, he thought, but he was too polite to say it aloud.

  ‘All are identical by royal decree,’ Maud said. ‘The clans are equal and in Tar Kell, none may build a bigger or more luxurious gatherhouse than the others.’

  In the center, opposite the palace, was the only dilapidated building Jurgis had seen in the city. The paint was peeling from the door and the blinded windows, and the wood beneath it showed gray with age. The plastered walls, in the other buildings done in shades of purple and brown, had turned to a dirty, indescribable color, pockmarked where bits had broken off.

  ‘I’m not fond of the purples around here,’ he said. ‘But this looks awful, like something long dead.’

  ‘That’s how your house would look, had you neglected it for ages,’ Wemawee snapped.

  ‘If I had a house,’ Jurgis said. ‘But I lived in a cellar far worse than this, and that will have been taken by someone else by now.’

  The initiate clamped her mouth shut.

  ‘Jurgis wasn’t criticizing,’ Maud said. ‘He stated a fact; the gatherhouse does look terrible.’ And to Jurgis, ‘The purples and browns remind us of the earth and the shrubbery in Old
Kell.’

  They stopped at the front door, locked with three magic seals.

  ‘They’re beautiful puzzles.’ Basil eyed the images of intertwined animals with pleasure. ‘It would take me a while to open them.’

  Wemawee’s glance was disdainful. ‘You cannot break these seals, boy. They were made by a high Elder.’

  ‘Of course I can open them.’ Basil traced the lines of the glowing seal with a careful finger. ‘It goes like this ... there’s a knot here, one there. A loop? Ah, it goes to there.’ His voice sank to a murmur as he step by step dismantled the magic emblem, while the others watched.

  Jurgis was barely able to hide his glee as the initiate’s face grew dark with fury.

  ‘Thus it was wrought,’ Basil said, deep in thought. ‘It was well done, but now I’ve got it.’ His fingers made an intricate sign over the seal, and the glowing lines faded away. ‘That’s one. You can do the other two, Wisewoman.’

  Jurgis heard the boy behind Wemawee gasp, his eyes large with shock at Basil’s offensive carelessness. The girl herself seemed ready to explode.

  ‘You stupid little ...’ she screeched.

  ‘Initiate!’ Maud’s commanding voice arrested the girl. ‘You want to be a wisewoman. Then act like one.’

  Wemawee stiffened, and all emotion leaked from her face. ‘Pardon my outburst,’ she said, mortified. ‘I should control myself better. Those seals are shamanic magic. Would you care to explain how you unlocked one?’

  ‘Magic is magic,’ Basil said offhand. ‘There is no special shamanic magic, warlock magic, or singer magic. That’s what they want you to believe, but it isn’t true. There are different tricks, but if you apply yourself, if you teach yourself to think out of your own ruts, you can learn them all.’

  ‘Big words for a baby warlock,’ Wemawee said, unable to rule her tongue. ‘If you can do it yourself, why did you need me?’

  ‘I’m not a baby warlock,’ Basil said, unruffled. ‘I am the Spellwarden and I passed my initiation years ago. My work is with high magic, and even fine seals like these are elementary fare. To your second question, we asked permission to search the M’Arrangh gatherhouse. We did not request the assistance of some ignorant chit.’

  ‘Ignorant chit!’ screamed the girl. ‘I’ll show you!’ She twisted her hand and a white wolf appeared beside her. ‘Bite him, Luf,’ she snapped, pointing at Basil.

  The wolf growled and turned its pale eyes to the Spellwarden. Maud went for her sword, but with a second hand wave, the girl froze the blade in its scabbard. Then the wolf sprang.

  Basil laughed and whistled. The wolf gave a yelp and found itself back on the ground, behind the bars of a wicker carrier. At the same moment, Maud’s sword came loose from its scabbard.

  The initiate cried out. ‘Luf!’ She turned to Basil. ‘That’s cruel! Let him out of there!’

  The Spellwarden folded his arms and the look he gave the girl was icy. ‘You attacked me with a magic animal. I could have killed your spellwolf. I could have killed you both, and no one would have blamed me for defending myself. There are rules between allied magic-workers, girl. You just broke the most important of them all.’

  ‘Initiate,’ Maud said furiously. ‘Your behavior is irresponsible and insubordinate. You are dismissed. Return to your chapterhouse; I will report your childish actions to the queen and suggest you need years more training before being allowed on the streets again.’

  ‘No!’ The girl’s dark face had turned gray. ‘No, please, Lioness! I am sorry; it was stupid of me. He made me mad, and it just happened. Sometimes I c-can’t manage my anger.’

  ‘Let it go,’ Basil said. ‘I know the feeling.’ He grinned. ‘I’ve had those moments too. Self-control comes faster when things are for real than in a study.’ He snapped his fingers and the wicker basket disappeared. The wolf gave a soft whimper and hid behind the initiate.

  ‘All right,’ Maud said. ‘I will heed the Spellwarden’s request. Basil, you will keep an eye on the initiate. As for you, little sister, you will restrain your impulses. You are a Kell, not some undisciplined Garthan.’

  Wemawee bowed. ‘Yes, Lioness; thank you. Your pardon for my lapse. And yours too, Spellwarden, Master Jurgis.’

  The thief made a vague gesture. It was clear he was more interested in the door. ‘For someone in my profession, these seals are an affront. Kindly remove the other two. Before dark, if possible.’

  Wemawee touched the seal with a finger. Like Basil had done, she traced the patterns, frowning now and then, while her lips moved in silent words. It took almost twenty minutes for the first seal to fade, and sweat stood on the girl’s forehead when she started on the second. Finally, it was done.

  ‘Thank you,’ Maud said.

  The girl gave a curt nod and put a hand to the door. ‘It won’t open,’ she said, staring at the knob. ‘Why not? All the seals are gone.’

  Jurgis pushed against the door and listened. ‘Like any responsible householder, they turned the key in the lock before they escaped.’

  Wemawee frowned. ‘A key? You mean a real key?’

  ‘Of course. Haven’t you got it?’

  ‘No. The Elder told me the door was sealed, but not a word about a key.’

  Jurgis sniffed. ‘My turn, then. Don’t get excited, I must undo my pants.’ He unfastened his belt and opened a small slit on the inside of his trousers. From it, he produced some long, thin tools. Then, flexing his fingers, he turned to the door. ‘What you’re about to see, no house-owner ever watched,’ he said. ‘The burglar at the door.’

  He knelt at the lock and probed its inside with a hooked pin. Maud stared at him, fascinated at the utter stillness of his face. Now and then the lock clicked, but nothing happened till finally, with a rattling sound, it opened.

  ‘Done,’ Jurgis said with satisfaction, sitting back on his heels.

  Maud realized she’d been holding her breath these last seconds. ‘You did this on the street in plain sight? Nervy business.’

  ‘Yes. That was part of the fun.’ He put the tools in his pocket. ‘Still, flying a wyrm has its charm, too.’

  Wemawee gave him a puzzled look. ‘You were a ... thief?’

  Jurgis nodded. ‘Yes, and a pirate, a double and a wyrm rider.’

  ‘Wyrms are just tales,’ the girl scoffed. ‘Old men’s tales.’

  ‘They are not, little sister,’ Maud said. ‘The wyrm that killed the Veteran Hala was very real, as were the two beasts that tried to sink our ship.’

  Wemawee looked at Maud’s face and she fell into a pensive silence.

  ‘The Spellwarden killed those last two wyrms. That’s how strong he is.’ Jurgis pushed open the door. ‘Let’s get inside, before one of the neighbors thinks we are burglars.’

  They slipped into the building, coming to a vestibule. It was almost dark inside, but then Wemawee lifted her hands and a pale light engulfed her.

  ‘Nicely done,’ Basil said. ‘You have a lot of light in you.’

  The girl lifted an eyebrow at him, but she didn’t say anything.

  The hallway was a square space, empty of anything. To their left was an open door, and with a show of caution, Jurgis peered inside. A wooden desk and a chair, with some benches along the wall, was all the furniture. Past it was a single, bare cell, with a wide-open, grilled door.

  ‘A guardroom?’ he said with some hesitation. ‘There is something wrong here.’

  ‘Let me see.’ Maud shoved him aside, but he pulled her back.

  ‘No!’ he said sharply. ‘There is danger. A trap of sorts.’ He closed his eyes and let his sense for magic roam as he had done so often seeking for values in a dark room. Then a faint, orange glow appeared, and he knew he had been right.

  ‘There it is, behind the desk, underneath the chair. It’s an explosive trap.’ He smiled. ‘I need a pair of extra hands; the others wait in the hall, please.’

  ‘You help him,’ Wemawee commanded, and she shoved her attendant forward. ‘You’re the mos
t expendable.’

  The boy broke out in a sweat, but he went to Jurgis, who had laid himself down.

  ‘Expendable?’ Jurgis said scornfully. ‘This ain’t a suicide mission, girl.’ For the first time he looked at the boy. They would be of an age, though the other was slightly taller and far more muscled. Not on the scale of Maud, but in every other land he’d be a well-built fellow. Yet he moved with a strange clumsiness, as if unsure of himself and his body. He had a nice face; with an innocence unusual in one of his age. Jurgis sighed. A big baby. ‘Lie down beside me. On your stomach. What’s your name?’

  The boy’s eyes were wide with fear. ‘Wargall,’ he whispered, as if he were afraid that stupid wisewoman chit would hear him. ‘Wargall of the M’Arrangh.’

  ‘You too?’ Jurgis turned his head. ‘Are you two related?’

  ‘Not by blood. She’s my clansister.’

  ‘Oh, I thought you were lovers.’ A sob made Jurgis look aside, but the boy’s face was empty.

  ‘No, we’re not,’ Wargall said, barely audible. ‘No love, at least. She ... uses me, that’s all.’

  ‘And you let her?’ Jurgis said, stunned.

  ‘I’m a male.’ Wargall’s face was near tears now. ‘I can’t say no to her!’

  ‘Why not? Is there a law that says you must bed her against your will?’

  ‘She’s a girl, and much stronger than me. If I refuse, she will force me to do what she wants. It’s my duty as her clanbrother, she says. Because we’re the only two M’Arrangh left in Tar Kell.’

  Jurgis growled. ‘The more reason for her to look somewhere else. Let me think on it, mate. We’ll do this blasted thing first. Wait for my sign.’ He wriggled on his back till the trap was right above him. Then he called Wargall, and the boy joined him.

  With his eyes closed, Jurgis found the object almost immediately. ‘Here it is,’ he said. ‘It’s magic, so you won’t be able to see it. Can you?’

  ‘No,’ Wargall said. ‘Is it very dangerous?’

  ‘That depends on you,’ Jurgis said cheerfully. ‘You are going to hold that chair steady. Grab its legs and make sure it doesn’t move.’