Path of Fate

by Diana Pharaoh Francis

  For a moment she thought herself about to blush, but then she lifted her chin boldly. Her scars were a badge of honor, an outward mark of her devotion to Saljane, her loyalty to the Blessed Lady. Some might think her marred, but she thought of herself whole in more than the physical sense. If the Lady had offered to remove them, Reisil would have refused.

  In response to the challenge in her look, Edelsat gave her a slight bow, startling her. Her brows angled up.

  “Kaj Mekelsek has offered us an escort to find Ceriba,” Kebonsat announced. “As well as provisions and fresh horses.”

  “You are generous, Kaj, and we thank you for your assistance,” Sodur said with a slight bow.

  Reisil blinked at him, surprised all over again. He sounded like a courtier, his voice gravely soft, his manner upright yet deferential. Was this something he learned as ahalad-kaaslane? He had told her that the ahalad-kaaslane came and went at will in Koduteel, into the Iisand’s own chambers if they so chose. And he had mentioned that she would learn the manners and social niceties in order to get along there. Apparently it served him well in other places, also.

  Mekelsek nodded, replying in equally grave tones. “That was well-spoken and I thank you, though this pup does not think as highly of me.” He jerked his chin at Kebonsat. “Mayhap he is right and I should have kept those ruffians here. But I had my reasons and I stand by them. Now that you’ve got here at last, I can do more. There’s been a call for troops—the war with Kodu Riik is on again unless you lot can expose the plot against the peace. Toward that end, I’ve put my men under this whelp’s command.” He nodded again at Kebonsat. “You’ll need the extra help. The news is that there will be some sort of summit between your Iisand Samir and Karalis Vasalis eight days hence on the Vorshtar plain. Both bring armies. If it goes poorly, then the war will begin right there.” He shook head. “I don’t trust this at all. Stinks like a week-gone body. I expect whoever is behind this won’t be content to rely solely on your sister to spark action. Something else is in the wind. Nevertheless, if it gets about that you’re on your way, they’ll try to stop you.”

  He turned to Kebonsat, snaring his son in his gaze as he did. “I’ll send my soldiers with you to rescue your sister. But I want you on that plain when the two powers meet. No one else is going to be looking for treachery from within. You’re all that stands between us and war. Remember that. And we can’t survive a two-fronted conflict. Scallas perches like a buzzard on our western borders, waiting for the right moment to strike. We’ll be squeezed to nothing.” Mekelsek paused, his eyes boring into Kebonsat’s. “I know you know this already. But you might forget in the next few days. Your sister’s been badly treated, and there may be worse for her. Maybe you’ll blame me, and if so, you know where to find me. But whatever else you are, you are a knight of Patverseme with a duty to her before all. Remember that too.”

  Mekelsek turned to his son and clasped his arm in a warrior’s grip. “Be well, and don’t fail.”

  Then Edelsat ordered that the spare horses be brought forward. Reisil groaned inwardly when their packs were transferred, realizing that she would be expected to ride into the night. She took a breath and firmed her resolve. She would have time to rest later. She thought of Ceriba, how terrified she must be, how hurt and desperate. Reisil could not falter now.

  Edelsat took several packs from his men and offered around hot food and ale, fruit and bread. Reisil ate ravenously, feeling her strength coming back with every bite. It had been days since she’d eaten hot food—since they’d left the village and Upsakes behind.

  To her surprise, Mekelsek remained with them, drinking a dram of ale, watching his visitors over the rim. More than once Reisil found his gaze resting on her as though he could not look away. Meanwhile, Edelsat mounted and led his men off into the darkness. The four companions would overtake them, being able to move more swiftly.

  They finished the meal and transferred tack and readied their mounts. Mekelsek looked on wordlessly. To Reisil he appeared nervous and even fretful. Kebonsat turned to him and said a clipped, unwilling thank-you. She knew he felt strongly that Mekelsek should have detained Ceriba’s captors. She couldn’t help but feel the same, knowing what they had planned for Kebonsat’s beautiful, vivacious sister.

  Before her mind could follow the path of her thoughts to Kaval, Reisil turned to adjust her cinch one more time. As she lifted her foot into her stirrup, Kaj Mekelsek spoke close behind, startling her.

  “If I may, I’d like to have a word with your tark.” He spoke to Kebonsat, and a look of stark desperation and pleading shadowed his face. It was out of place on the proud, ruthless features. Kebonsat stiffened, his lips curling into a snarl, an ugly flush staining his neck and cheeks. He stared hard at Mekelsek.

  “If you wish.”

  Mekelsek turned to her and she saw in his eyes a deep-rooted fear, an agony of need. He licked his lips, not looking at Kebonsat, who stood close by, arms crossed, watching with an expression of bitter fury.

  “Kebonsat has told me something of your healing gifts,” he ventured at last as Reisil looked at him questioningly. “I would ask—nay beg . . . That is, once—if—things are resolved between Patverseme and Kodu Riik, that you might, if you are willing, return here. My lady is gravely ill.” He said the last words in a rush, as if the words burned his throat and tongue.

  Reisil pitied him, yet she felt a twin to Kebonsat’s bitterness stir in her heart. This man had let Ceriba’s captors take her away when he could have rescued her. He would have known her pain, her fear, her hope that someone might pull her from the jaws of terror, that someone might stand between her and the oncoming storm. Yet he’d done nothing. And now he wanted Reisil to gift him the life and health of his own wife.

  Though she wanted to look to Sodur for advice, Reisil kept her gaze fixed on Mekelsek as she considered. Sodur could not answer this for her. He had not been given two gifts; he could not heal, could not know what compulsions healers felt to relieve the suffering of others.

  Refusing wouldn’t help Ceriba. And maybe Reisil wouldn’t make it back in time to help Mekelsek’s wife. What should she do?

  “I will,” she said finally, and hope flared on Mekelsek’s face. She did not look at Kebonsat, but returned to her horse and mounted without another word.

  They left Kaj Mekelsek standing there in the clearing, tears sliding down his cheeks as he watched them go. If he could feel so for his wife, Reisil wondered, why couldn’t he have felt enough compassion to help Ceriba?

  The road rose up over the rim of the valley and dropped over the other side into a land of twisted, buckled rock, barren of trees. As they paused, far away, north and east, they could see the lights of Vitne Ozols. Closer, a firefly light gleamed in the darkness, signaling the village where Ceriba’s kidnappers had stopped.

  They settled into a swift walk, the road turning into a wagon track, where it would be easy for a horse to turn a fetlock in the dark.

  “I feel I should explain why I agreed to return and help with Kaj Mekelsek’s wife,” Reisil began. Kebonsat, riding beside her, cut her off with a shake of his head.

  “No need.”

  “But I want you to understand.”

  “I do.” He drew a breath and blew it out gustily, raking a hand through his hair. “I really do.” Then in a sudden change of subject: “Do you know why he didn’t help Ceriba?” He answered without waiting for her response. “Because he feared retaliation by those who had engineered her kidnapping. He’s strong here in this valley, but he must trade for a great deal. He must keep his trading connections open. He won his title by his deeds in battle, but he keeps it only by political maneuvering. He hasn’t got the finesse or subtle mind for dealing with those who’ve been steeped in the game all their lives. So he does what he can. In this case, he may well be right, given the Guild’s involvement. I wouldn’t want to be on the left side of the Guild. He waited until we asked his aid so he was justified in helping. Did I not say that he
had a slippery honor? He didn’t even pretend that he didn’t know they were Ceriba’s kidnappers, though the news of her kidnapping has been restricted. Only the nobles of the land have been made aware through the demand for troops.”

  “Why must he wait until asked to help?”

  “Because he is then formally obligated,” Sodur answered from behind. “He was hedging his bets, expecting someone to turn up soon. If not, I expect he would have assigned all blame for what might happen to Ceriba to your family for being lax in your care of her.”

  “He’d be right,” Kebonsat said in a cold and unrelenting voice.

  “But that doesn’t explain why he waited until you asked to help Ceriba,” Reisil said, confused.

  “Because he is a small landowner, and because he did not know who had taken her,” Kebonsat said.

  “But why should that matter?”

  “It shouldn’t, not if he were truly honorable. He should have rescued her on the principle of her need alone. But he did not want to risk the safety of his people over Ceriba, not knowing who might retaliate against him, not knowing if my family would be willing to make an alliance with his house. Some families would not wish the return of their daughter. They’d rather see her dead than have a constant reminder that they had failed to protect her, and face the embarrassment of her ruined reputation.”

  “Ruined reputation?” Reisil repeated, disbelieving. “What matters her reputation if she can be rescued?”

  “A fallen woman—no matter why or how—is not welcomed in Patverseme society,” Sodur explained when Kebonsat remained silent. “And though Ceriba may not have been abused in that way,” he said, seeing the stricken look on Kebonsat’s face, “it is enough that she was alone with those men through many days, even though not by her choice. Her reputation is ruined. No respectable offers of marriage will be made. She’ll never be invited into polite society again. Her friends will refuse to see her. If she foists herself into the social rounds, she will be universally snubbed.”

  “That’s barbarous!” Reisil exclaimed, half turning in her saddle to look at Sodur and Kebonsat to see if they spoke the truth.

  Sodur nodded at her while Kebonsat gritted his teeth, his knuckles white on his reins.

  “She has been taken and tormented and now you’re saying that when we rescue her, she’ll face a life of unending loneliness and isolation? That’s . . . That’s . . .” Reisil fell silent, unable to put into her words her indignation, the sweeping rage that swallowed her.

  She thought of Ceriba when she’d met her in the kohv-house, her warm, dancing wit and merry laughter. She couldn’t imagine the fate Kebonsat and Sodur described. There must be something else, some other possibility. She couldn’t save Ceriba just to let her waste away, isolated from and rejected by all she’d known.

  “You see, I do understand your promise to Mekelsek,” Kebonsat said softly after a few minutes. “I love my sister dearly, and nothing is going to prevent me from rescuing her. It’s more than duty. It’s something I must do. When I went into the fortress and Mekelsek first asked about you helping his wife, angry as I was, I knew what your answer must be. You are a healer, and you must respond to his need, just as you are responding to Ceriba’s. And though I disagree with what the man has done, I would not see his wife die for my spite.”

  Reisil felt tears prickle her eyes and swallowed, emotion making her throat ache.

  “Thank you for that. It means more to me than you know.”

  She found herself thinking abruptly of Kaval: his playful, easy manner, his loving touch. She shook her head. She’d thought Kebonsat arrogant and cold in their first meeting. If anyone was capable of kidnapping a young woman, she would have chosen Kebonsat over Kaval. But Kebonsat’s haughty manner hid a gentle heart, devoted and passionate, while Kaval’s gentleness hid a streak of vicious cruelty. And now, when he must hate Mekelsek, Kebonsat gave her comfort and understanding rather than the blame she expected.

  For the first time since she’d discovered that he had helped kidnap Ceriba, Reisil severed Kaval from her heart completely, no longer hoping for some rational explanation, something to say that what he’d done wasn’t as horrible as it was. She’d not wanted to believe him capable of such evil, but she had to stop letting their past color her judgment. She had to free herself to do what must be done as ahalad-kaaslane.

  So she said a silent good-bye to the man she thought he’d been. When we meet again, I will be ahalad-kaaslane and you will be nothing more than a brute, a thief of women, beneath contempt, deserving no mercy. I will give you what you deserve.

  Unbeknownst to her, beneath her tunic, the eyes of her gryphon pendant flared red and subsided.

  Chapter 14

  They overtook Edelsat and rode on into the early-morning hours, until he at last called a halt. When Reisil would have unsaddled and rubbed down her horse, Edelsat took her reins, signaling for his men to do similarly for her companions.

  “You have more need of rest than we.”

  Reisil nodded gratefully, swimming in a thick haze of exhaustion. She went away a few paces and dropped to the ground, curling up in her cloak and falling instantly into oblivion.

  Edelsat woke them in the gray light of dawn, handing them each a cold biscuit with sausage and a hard-boiled egg.

  “I sent a couple of scouts on ahead,” he reported as they set out. “If the kidnappers have left Praterside, the scouts will pick up their trail.”

  “They haven’t,” Reisil said. It was the first time she’d spoken that morning, her head feeling as if it were submerged in mud. “According to Saljane, none of them have stirred out-of-doors since last evening.”

  “That’s strange,” Edelsat said. “What are they waiting for?”

  Reisil didn’t answer. She could think of only one reason. Her hands spasmed on the reins and she did not look at Kebonsat. She hoped they would arrive in time to save Ceriba’s life.

  They rode hard despite the difficult terrain. By midmorning, they found themselves dropping quickly out of the foothills onto a flat plain of waving green grasses, stirrup-high, and no trees for miles.

  “If we keep our pace, we can be there an hour after noon,” Edelsat informed Kebonsat when they paused to water their mounts. Edelsat glanced at Reisil with a question in her eyes. She shook her head.

  “Saljane has seen nothing of them. They sleep late.”

  Her lips didn’t want to shape the words, for a dread certainty of what must be happening to Ceriba in that inn made her nauseous.

  She at last looked at Kebonsat, and though his face remained stiffly unyielding, she saw in his eyes that he was rapidly drawing the same conclusion. He glanced about to each of them, seeking reassurance that it could not be so. Reisil could only give a little shake of her head. Lying would do no good. Sodur laid a hand on Kebonsat’s shoulder.

  “Let’s get moving,” he said in an implacable voice.

  “We have business with these vermin that will wait no longer.”

  The ride to Praterside seemed endless, though they rode swiftly: now at a gallop, now at a long trot along the wagon track serving as a road.

  A gentle hill carried them upward to a vantage point above the dusty town on the edge of a sluggish brown river. Fields of barley and beans skirted the walls on the eastern side of the river. Across the muddy ribbon, shepherds tended red-brindled dairy cows and squat, black-faced sheep. Clinging to the river’s edge, cottonwoods and willows sank thirsty roots into the muddy soil.

  The place had the appearance of a quiet comfort and gentle coziness. Yet somewhere inside that aura of domestic sanctuary, vicious men did unspeakable things to a helpless young woman.

  Reisil felt a raw blade of ice drive down her spine, and fury hardened her jaw. For the first time in her life she wished she knew how to fight, how to hurt. The feeling made her ill.

  Needing comfort, she took advantage of their sudden halt to summon Saljane. The goshawk streaked from her perch in the stand of trees.


  Reisil held up her fist and Saljane settled onto it, stretching her neck to rub her beak on Reisil’s cheek. Reisil returned the affectionate greeting, scratching the dense feathers on the back of Saljane’s head.

  They had been separated for days and Reisil was stunned at how much she had missed her ahaladkaaslane . It was almost as if she’d hobbled along without her sense of smell and now it came rushing gloriously back. Parts of her that had gone stiff and dry with missing Saljane swelled and Reisil’s emotions twitched back into balance. The desire to hurt withered and melded into something else: a desire for justice.

  She stared into Saljane’s amber eyes, their minds touching in agreement and understanding.

  ~I have missed you, she said.

  Pleasure. Fierceness. Love.

  “She’s marvelous,” admired Edelsat, breaking their communion.

  “She is, isn’t she.”

  Reisil asked about Ceriba.

  ~Men move about. Not in a hurry.

  Reisil relayed that to her companions.

  “I say we set men on both gates and take a small force inside. They aren’t expecting trouble. It would be safer for your sister if we took them out quietly, one by one, rather than make a frontal assault. They’ll likely slit her throat if they see us coming.”

  Edelsat spoke bluntly and Kebonsat made a strangled sound in his throat, but gave a jerky nod of agreement.

  “We’ll need them alive,” Sodur said. “Though we believe at least one must be wizard—we can’t let that one use his magic.”

  “Alive?” Edelsat shook his head, looking at his men, who, Reisil realized for the first time, looked sizzlingly angry. “That may not be possible. My men know what this is about and they want blood.”

  “Make it possible,” Sodur ordered flatly. “Without them to confess and identify their masters, we may not be able to stop the renewal of hostilities.”

  Edelsat stroked his jaw, rubbing his chin into his palm. After several moments he spoke, his deep voice strained.