Path of Fate

by Diana Pharaoh Francis

  ~Dark. Cannot fly.

  Reisil blinked. Goshawks couldn’t fly in the dark?

  ~Did you find Ceriba?

  Another image flashed in her mind, this time earlier. The sinking sun bleeding into the sky as she floated above a tree canopy. Off to the right and left there were squares of green and gold, separated by hedgerows. Far off, she could see mountains. Now they were gliding low over the canopy. Saljane found an opening and dropped through. She skimmed between the branches, weaving in and out, flipping on a wing tip. Reisil’s stomach heaved. Grimly she tightened her jaw, biting her tongue.

  Finally Saljane found a path, following its sinuous curves with silent grace. Reisil breathed deeply through her nose. She felt herself sinking to the chill paving stones, legs too rubbery to hold. Saljane’s mad flight slowed and now she made gliding hops from one branch to another, a hundred feet above the ground. Below, Reisil could see a line of shapes moving through the dappled shadows. Despite the goshawk’s sharp sight, she could see little through the clutter of trees. Saljane dropped lower, perching at the edge of a clearing. Leaf mold lay thick on the forest floor and wildflowers bloomed in scattered clumps.

  The line of riders pulled up inside the clearing next to a stream. Amongst them was a trussed figure, head wrapped in a bag, hands tied to the pommel, feet roped together beneath the horse’s belly. She, for Reisil knew without a doubt it must be Ceriba, wore men’s trousers, the too large waist belted with a length of twine, and a heavy wool shirt. Heavy socks covered her feet and a cloak wrapped her around.

  Six men accompanied her, but Reisil couldn’t make out their faces. They did not have cause to look up and wore their hoods pulled up. They put Ceriba next to the newly kindled fire, laughing and slapping shoulders. They pulled Ceriba’s hood off and fury blistered through Reisil. Even so far above, Saljane could see the bruises around one eye and her swollen lips.

  Suddenly, like a snuffed candle, the vision winked off. Reisil shuddered, blinking. She found herself staring at a dozen feet. She followed a pair of polished black boots up a pair of finely woven trousers, past a long, embroidered vest over an orange silk blouse, up the fierce face to a pair of staring gray eyes. The Dure Vadonis.

  “What do you know? Tell me at once!”

  Reisil raised a quashing hand.

  ~Saljane. Where are you?

  ~Trees. I wait for morning. They wait for morning.

  Good. They would go nowhere without Saljane following.

  ~Which way? North or south of Kallas?

  Saljane jerked her ahalad-kaaslane back into her mind. Reisil had an impression of lazy spirals, then sudden thrust as the quarry came in sight. A boat pulled up high on the bank, a trail into the trees where horses had waited. More spirals. A low dive over the river. She could see it tumbling over rocks in shallows. South. The river ran south. Saljane rose in the air again and circled. Reisil searched for landmarks, something to say how far Ceriba’s captors had taken her before departing the river. The Sadelema snaked away in a series of twists and turns and narrow rapids. A small wooded island hardly larger than an oxcart thrust itself up into the tumbling white current. She saw nothing else to distinguish that portion of the river.

  She came back to herself, still on her hands and knees, breath coming between her lips in short pants. The Dure Vadonis knelt beside her. She looked at him. She opened her mouth to speak, but a storm of coughing racked her. He called for drink and thrust a cup of wine into her hand. Reisil sipped, letting the cool liquid moisten her parched tongue and throat.

  “Saljane’s found her. They took her downriver and then west.” She remembered the boat pulled out of sight behind a screen of trees on the right riverbank. West into Patverseme.

  The Dure Vadonis made a strangled sound.

  “She is . . . alive?”

  Reisil nodded. “A bit worse for wear, but alive.”

  She began to push to her feet and found his hands helping her. Another pair gripped her other arm gently and she flicked a startled look at Kebonsat. The two men helped her inside and settled her in a cushioned chair. Reisil was grateful for the assistance. Her body ached and shook. Sweat drenched her clothing and made her hair cling to her scalp.

  “Tell us what you know.”

  Ceriba’s father had pulled up a chair opposite. Someone thrust a roughly made sandwich into her hand and replaced the wine with cool, sweet tea. The scent of mint and lemon quickened her taste buds. She glanced up and smiled gratefully at Raim, who nodded and stepped back to give Upsakes room.

  Reisil described what she had seen through Saljane’s eyes. At the description of Ceriba’s bruises, the Dure Vadonis’s eyes blazed and Kebonsat let out a string of curses.

  “We must go immediately. We’ve wasted enough time already. Send for Koijots,” Dure Vadonis instructed his son. He paused a moment to take Reisil’s hand, squeezing it fervently. “Thank you.” He turned to leave, settling his arm about his wife, but Upsakes detained him with a blocky paw on his forearm.

  “Listen to counsel. Is it wise to act so precipitously?”

  “Precipitously? They’ve got a full day’s lead. Who knows what they’ll do to her. We’ve delayed long enough.” He tried again to leave, but Upsakes blocked his passage.

  “Consider, just for a moment. First, do you know where they left the river by Reisil’s description? No, and neither do I. Does anyone here?” Silence, a dozen heads shaken no. “But we may be able to find out. Second, who do you trust? Who stole your daughter? What’s their purpose? To draw you within reach and murder you? To ruin the treaty between Patverseme and Kodu Riik? It might be that those you trust most are party to this abduction. You might be providing them an opportunity to kill you easily without any witnesses. Finally, a party as large as yours will move too slowly to overtake the kidnappers. And if you succeeded, might they not kill her just to aid their escape?

  “A smaller party is more prudent. One which consists of both Patversemese and ahalad-kaaslane. Such a party could move swiftly and stealthily. It would have a better chance of rescuing your daughter. At the same time, if you stayed here in Kallas or proceeded on to Koduteel, you would undermine any efforts to ruin the treaty, if that is the intent of this kidnapping. There may also come communications from the kidnappers—ransom demands. You should be here to answer those.”

  “Stay here? While ruffians have my daughter? Unthinkable!”

  Despite his words, Reisil could read the doubt in his eyes. Upsakes had hit several sore points. Points she agreed with. The Dure Vadonis did not want to sit and wait for his daughter to be rescued, but neither did he want to give way to those who had stolen her. Inside the rage and frustration she saw ruthless implacability. The only reward he had in mind for them was bloody and agonizing.

  She shivered. Someone was going to pay for this. Pay dearly. Was it too late for Kallas to rectify the situation? To prevent the Iisand Samir from making good on his threats to cast every soul out?

  “The people of Kallas have every encouragement to help find Ceriba,” Varitsema chimed in, his face pale. “The Iisand Samir has vowed that we will lose our homes and lands if we should disrupt the treaty process. Even if we did not share your contempt for those who would kidnap a helpless young woman, we would have ample selfish reasons to see her brought back safely.”

  “You have already seen what aid the ahalad-kaaslane can be in rescuing the young lady,” Upsakes pushed.

  “You would go?” the Lady Vadonis asked Reisil in a constricted voice. “You would help find my Ceriba and bring her back? She might be ill or hurt. You could tend her. If she’s—” Her voice broke. “If she needs it.”

  Reisil met the other woman’s pleading gaze. She nodded. “Of course. Even now Saljane watches over her.”

  The Lady Vadonis closed her eyes, her lips compressing into a flat white line. Then she visibly collected herself and nodded to her husband.

  “It will be so. I will send my son in my place and remain here in Kallas until s
he is returned. But do not take overlong. I must send word to Vitne Ozols very soon. Three, maybe four days at most. The envoy from Koduteel will arrive tomorrow, I believe. I will have no authority over their actions. If they send to Koduteel, then I must to Vitne Ozols. After that, we won’t have many choices. You must get my daughter back quickly.”

  And if she is returned? Reisil thought about the treaty. If Ceriba’s kidnapping had been an effort to ruin the peace between Kodu Riik and Patverseme, would those behind it escalate their efforts? She reached out to Saljane. The sleepy bird responded with reassurance. All was quiet, the girl was asleep.

  A river trader rousted from his bed recognized the twisting curves of the river and the island that Reisil described. Called Voli, Reisil doubted he’d washed for a week at least.

  “A fair distance. That island is past Priede. Maybe two or three leagues. Ripping quick current there.”

  “How far to Priede?”

  Voli rubbed bloodshot eyes, his breath smelling of vinegar, ale and onions. He burped and eyed Kebonsat uneasily. Ceriba’s brother stood silently, arms crossed over his chest, watchful as a starving bear. Their party crowded the taproom of the Vesi Inn, where the trader had taken a room. Reisil sat with her back to Kebonsat at the end of the table, while Upsakes sat across from Voli. The innkeeper hovered behind the bar, his clothing rumpled and unevenly buttoned.

  Voli scraped thick fingers through thinning brown hair, his face and scalp burned dark by the sun. “River’s running high with spring melt, even with the drought. By boat, maybe ten or twelve hours. Lotta logs, debris, rapids. Need a good crew and have to go with a flat bottom. Gets shallow near Priede, but fast.”

  “Good horses available in Priede?”

  The trader shrugged. “Good enough. Not much to look at, but sturdy. Don’t eat much, but work like dogs.”

  Upsakes looked at Kebonsat. “That’s it then. We go to Priede, buy horses, then pick up the trail. We can leave at first light.”

  “We can leave now,” Kebonsat objected. “We could cut their lead in half.”

  Voli laughed. “Forget it, boy. No one runs the Sadelema at night. Not when she’s high. Not when they’re logging. You’ll get yourself dead if you try. I don’t know anyone who’s fool enough to take that kind of job. Not for love or money.”

  “Let us collect our gear and get what rest we may,” Upsakes said, standing. “Voli, we require your services. Gather your crew and make sure they are ready to go at dawn.” His tone brooked no argument and he turned to leave, motioning for Reisil to join him.

  “Return to your cottage and get your things. Bring along a blanket, sturdy clothing, a good cloak, waterbag, foodstuffs, a pot and bowl, and whatever weapons you may have. At least a belt knife, I hope.” He eyed her narrowly, wide face hard. His weirmart had disappeared from his shoulder. Reisil wondered where she had gone. “I suggest also that you bring a leather kit to make jesses for your ahalad-kaaslane. They are handy in securing messages, if it becomes needful. Paper would also be useful. Do not overweigh yourself. You are ahaladkaaslane now. You must travel lightly. I would not expect to return.”

  “I had not thought to,” Reisil murmured.

  Upsakes made a disgusted noise. “You had not thought to be ahalad-kaaslane at all.” His lip curled, as if talking to her left a bad taste in his mouth. “Be at the dock at first light. We will not wait for you.” He stalked off without another word, leaving Reisil alone in the velvet darkness of the deserted street.

  Reisil returned to her cottage and packed her things swiftly. To Upsakes’s list, she added string, needles, thread, a pouch of oil, flint, whetstone, fish hooks, comb, extra socks, a cake of soap, four candles, and a thin pouch of coins. Her medicine kit went into an oilskin bag. Her cloak had been a leavetaking gift from Elutark. It hung to her heels in long, billowy folds. Made of doe hide, it had been dyed forest green, then well rubbed with oil to make it waterproof. Green for growing; green for healing. Inside it was lined with soft, curly sheep fleece like that of the vest she wore. Deep pockets edged its inner sweep. She added an extra blanket to her kit, as well as an extra shirt and trousers for Ceriba and a pair of boots. She hoped they wore a similar size.

  When she’d completed her packing, Reisil dressed herself in the heavy clothing she always wore when she went scouring the hills and mountains for plants. She ate the half a chicken pie in her larder and filled her pockets with plums. Exhaustion netted her limbs, but the notion of staying the night in the cottage was untenable. Slinging her kit over her shoulder, she departed, her hand lingering on the door handle as she pulled it shut.

  The dock was set in a natural cove below the bridge a quarter of a league. A short jetty protected the harbor area from logs and other debris. Most coming to Kallas were flat-bottomed, from the south, but occasionally a steeper, hulled boat floated down from the north where the Sadelema ran black and deep and wide. There was a flurry of activity and lights around Voli’s boat, one of three trading crafts in residence.

  She sat on a knoll to watch the bobbing lights a moment, hearing the curses and laughter of the crew as they readied for launch. Crickets chirped to the night birds and an owl hooted while the Sadelema murmured softly. Reisil smelled the comforting scent of damp earth, wild mint and woodsmoke. Sleep came at last and she slept heavily.

  A clanging bell startled Reisil awake just before dawn. She struggled upright, wincing at the ache in her shoulders and arms from carrying Saljane and sleeping on the ground. She rolled her head on her neck to loosen her muscles, rubbing the grit from her eyes and making a face at the sticky taste in her mouth. She picked a few leaves from a patch of wild mint, relishing the crisp, cool flavor.

  ~Saljane, how fare things with you?

  An image of gray logs spread out in pinwheel fashion came to Reisil.

  ~Sleeping.

  Saljane’s mental voice was swift and hard, like a talon striking, and Reisil winced. The contact was almost painful. She wondered if it were purposeful, or Saljane’s natural habit.

  She gathered her things and ambled down to the dock, eating one of the yellow-fleshed plums from her pocket. The clanging was Voli rousting his small crew from their beds. He flashed her a grin and jerked the chain on the dull brass bell hanging from the rail.

  “Bright morning,” Voli called. “And bright fortune. Be a fine day.” He nodded toward a wooden box fastened down to the aft deck, its lid thrown wide. “Throw your kit in there. Careful with those traps there. Break a leg falling through. Latch ’em down when we cast off. Here come your companions.”

  Down the road came Kebonsat with two men. One was Glevs, the knight who’d accompanied him through the square when Kaval had come home.

  Reisil swallowed and an ache filled her chest.

  Kaval. She had been trying not to think about him. She had daydreamed of a future with him. But now . . . Tears burned her eyes and she retreated to the other side of the deck so that no one would see. Her fingers found the scarf he’d given her in her pocket and she caressed the smooth material between rigid fingers. She hadn’t had a chance to say good-bye, but as much as she missed him already, she couldn’t regret it. She didn’t want to see his face when he discovered she was ahaladkaaslane . When he learned she’d deceived him and the town both, that she’d refused the Lady’s gift.

  Biting her lips and swallowing her pain, she forced her mind from Kaval. Later she would grieve.

  She turned around and examined the other man accompanying Kebonsat. He had red hair with streaks of gray fastened at the base of his neck. His close-cropped beard bristled gray with streaks of red along his chin. He had wide shoulders and a thickened waist, though he moved with a kind of innate stealth. He was shorter than Kebonsat by half a head and his pale blue eyes darted back and forth, seeing everything. He wore well-seasoned leathers, a sword and knife on his left hip and a wickedly hooked lohar, like a tiny scythe, fastened on his right, a longbow over his shoulder.

  “Well met,” Voli hailed wit
h a flourishing bow. Reisil smiled. Sober and on the water, the man was a rogue. “Come aboard. Stow your gear. Keep out of the way, if y’please. Managed a bit of a cargo in the wee hours. That Rikutud is a hard bargainer. M’boys are getting it settled. Businessman, you know. Have to find a profit in every venture. Ah! The stragglers.” He glanced at the brilliantly lit dawn sky. “Punctual.” He said the word as if it offended him, as if punctuality meant idleness and sloth.

  Voli greeted Upsakes gaily. Upsakes wore a new cloak of heavy wool, the weirmart back in its usual place on his shoulder. Behind him came Sodur, who, in contrast to Upsakes, looked already travel-worn. He wore an oft-patched cloak, its ragged hem hardly reaching his knees. His boots were scuffed, the heels worn low. As usual he looked hungry, his thin, crooked nose dripping in the chilly morning.

  “By midday it will be sweltering and we’ll make a holiday feast for the mosquitoes,” declared Voli. Sodur eyed him darkly, his lynx twining against his legs. Voli was uncowed.

  “This all of us then? I’ll cast off then, shall I?”

  “There’s one more. He’ll be along shortly.”

  “We don’t have time to wait,” Kebonsat declared.

  “Just a few moments,” Upsakes said. “That won’t make much difference. Ah, here he comes now.” He waved his arm and the trotting figure began to run in earnest.

  Reisil’s stomach sank. Juhrnus. Puffs of dust rose with every pounding step and he hardly paused as he leaped aboard, out of breath, his sisalik nearly strangling him with its tail as it clung to him for balance. He slung his kit into the waiting box and nodded greeting to Upsakes.

  “My apologies, Kaj Kebonsat.” Upsakes said. “It occurred to me in the last moment that Juhrnus might be an important addition to our mission. His sisalik can move quietly and quickly in water and sees in the dark. I did not want to lose any advantage in rescuing the Dajam Ceriba.”

  Juhrnus stroked his fingers over the sisalik’s head and glanced around. He did not seem surprised to see Reisil, but for once said nothing derogatory. Instead he gave her a cold look and turned his back. That suited her fine. Maybe now that she was ahalad-kaaslane, he would cease to torment her. Or she’d have Saljane eat that sisalik for breakfast.