Path of Fate

by Diana Pharaoh Francis

  Now the group dismounted and prepared a simple lunch while Reisil set about the task she’d assigned herself. In an odd way, she looked forward to it. Not just to finishing things with Kaval, but to having an active part in bringing them all to justice.

  Before she began, she retrieved the scarf from her pack. When she approached the wagon, Edelsat’s men stepped aside with a deference that made her flush. She climbed inside, wrinkling her nose at the smell. She turned to Kebonsat, who waited nearby.

  “They need to be washed. I can put them to sleep, but that stench will speak volumes.”

  He nodded. “I’ll speak with Edelsat. Will you be all right?” His glance flicked to Kaval, who stared at Reisil with greedy intensity.

  “I will. I have some unfinished business here, and I’d like to get it over with.” He gave a knowing look at the scarf bunched in her fist and nodded again, scowling.

  “Remember where the blame lies. It is not your burden to bear,” he said in a gentle voice that belied his expression. Then he walked away, leaving her alone with the prisoners.

  Before any could speak, she laid two fingers on the forehead of the closest man—the cartwright from Kallas. His eyes closed and he sagged over. The other men began to cry out and squirm, but Reisil quickly touched her fingers to each of them and soon they all slumped in unnatural sleep, all but Kaval.

  He stared at her, his vivid blue eyes desperate and hopeful. Reisil felt herself harden, even before he spoke, seeing that hope. As if he could charm her, make her overlook what he’d done.

  “Reisil, you must let me explain. Please!” His voice was thick and hoarse. Fury kindled inside her as she remembered how wonderful he had made her feel, how special, whispering in her ear in the dark. Her lips flattened. She wanted a bath.

  “What could you say, Kaval? Did you like hurting Ceriba? Did you like beating and raping her?” Reisil’s lip curled and tears burned her throat. “In all the time I knew you, I never saw it. Never saw how cruel, how evil you could be. Did you hide it so well? Or was I just stupid, too infatuated, to see the real you?”

  He shook his head, groaning softly as he did. “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t want to. I didn’t like it. But it had to be done. It was the only way to stop the treaty. You don’t know about the war. Not really. I saw, going to Koduteel—” He swallowed thickly, his lips swollen and bruised from the “care” of Edelsat’s men. “The treaty will destroy Kodu Riik. We could still stop it, you and me. That mark on your face—you’re ahalad-kaaslane now. We could do it.” He craned his neck up eagerly.

  “Yes. Yes, I am.” Reisil took the scarf he’d given her and put it around his neck, tying it securely. “That’s why I am here. To put right what you have made wrong. There is no excuse, no reason in the world, that would justify what you’ve done.” She blinked away a tear. “I thought I might love you. I thought you might love me. But I was wrong, about so much.”

  “And you’re wrong about this—the treaty must not happen!” Kaval insisted, the hope in his eyes turning to fear. Reisil shook her head.

  “I have learned much on this journey. I trust in and I am guided by the Blessed Amiya, in this and all things.” She stopped, an ironic expression on her face. “I don’t want to do this, and I don’t like it, but it has to be done,” she said, in a conscious echo of his words a few moments before. “Now you must go to sleep, and when you wake, you will have the chance to confess and undo some of the harm that you’ve done before you pay the price. But I don’t think you can ever pay what you owe.”

  Her voice was thick and shaking. She looked away for a moment, and then back. “Think about that, and pray to the Lady for guidance.”

  With that Reisil put her fingers on his forehead and he slumped, asleep.

  By nightfall they had trundled several leagues into the plain, trailing behind them a dark vein of bruised and bent grasses.

  “Not much we can do about it. We’ll double the watch. We won’t have to put guards on the prisoners anymore. That will keep us fresher,” Edelsat said to Kebonsat as they considered making camp.

  Far ahead, thousands of campfires flared like stars along the horizon as the sun dipped beneath edge of the world.

  “I never imagined . . . How many are there?” Juhrnus said softly.

  “Between the two armies? At least eight thousand, no doubt with more arriving every day,” Kebonsat answered, his voice expressionless.

  Reisil shivered, thinking of the death the two massed armies could unleash on each other.

  “There’s a hut.” One of the outriders had returned and spoke to Edelsat. Edelsat looked at Kebonsat, his eyebrows raised. “We’ve got to wash them somewhere. There’s bound to be a creek or spring close by. Couldn’t live out here otherwise.”

  At Kebonsat’s nod of assent, Edelsat motioned for the outrider to lead the way.

  To call the decrepit shack a hut was generous. It was a windowless box made of grass bound in bunches and tied together. Smoke drifted from a hole cut into the roof. The entire construction kilted sideways on the verge of falling down, held up, it seemed, by a stake of twisted wood that formed a doorpost, to which was fastened a grass door. Alongside the hut was a makeshift chicken coop, and beside it a garden, overgrown with weeds, the tomatoes and beans looking woebegone while the corn appeared stunted.

  At the sound of so many riders in the cupped-out hollow, the door opened, revealing a dim orange glow and a cloud of black smoke smelling of burned grass. A sallow, nervous woman stepped forth, closing the door behind her. She stood with arms crossed over her breasts, her eyes wide and staring, her lips flat and bloodless.

  Kebonsat dismounted. “Bright evening, madam. We have need of water and a campsite for the night.”

  Before he could go further, she began to shake her head, her snaggled teeth biting off every word. “No. You must move on. There’s nothing here for you.”

  But then there was a shout as Edelsat’s men found the spring.

  “I’m afraid we must insist,” Kebonsat said gently, seeing the woman’s fear. “We’ll not harm you. And we will pay a fee for the use of the land and spring.”

  The last caught the woman by surprise and she wavered. And no wonder, Reisil thought, as pitifully poor as she obviously was. Then she gave an ungracious nod and withdrew inside, closing the door firmly behind her.

  Kebonsat led the way around back to the spring, which lay farther down in the basin of the hollow. Reisil marveled. The Vorshtar plain looked flat, but its tall grasses hid a surprising variety of terrain.

  As they set up the camp and prepared dinner, the prisoners were unloaded. The springwater ran in a tiny rivulet down into the grasses and Edelsat had several of his men sluice them clean, not bothering to remove their clothing.

  “It’ll help some, but when it gets hot, they’ll start to cook and smell again,” he warned Kebonsat.

  “It will be long enough. By noon we should reach the edge of the camps. Father said we had eight days. That means the summit between Iisand Samir and Karalis Vasalis will happen tomorrow or the next day.”

  “We should split up,” Reisil said suddenly. Sodur nodded, his mind jumping ahead of hers. She continued. “Sodur should head directly for Iisand Samir, tell him what’s happened. As ahalad-kaaslane, no Kodu Riikian will hinder him. And”—she looked first at Kebonsat, then Ceriba—“he should take Ceriba with him. She’ll be safer. The Guild will have a harder time getting to her in the Kodu Riik camp. Meantime, we should get the prisoners to your father,” she said to Kebonsat. “Juhrnus can go with Sodur—Esper can see farther in the wizard dark with the aid of torches. I can guide the rest of us when the wizard night falls.”

  “You sound certain it will,” Edelsat said, his expression faintly skeptical.

  “I am. It will.” She did not explain further, but Edelsat accepted her certainty and exchanged a glance with Kebonsat. Kebonsat looked strained.

  “I don’t like it.”

  “But she’s right,” Ceri
ba said in a low voice. “You know it. Besides, they know their plan failed. They’ll be expecting you and will try to stop you. I’ll be safer with Sodur—they won’t know where to look for me—and you won’t have to worry about protecting me.”

  “And if we should fail, we’ll still have a knife in our boot,” Edelsat reasoned. “So long as your sister gets to the Iisand before the heavens fall, the war might be prevented. Even if we don’t make it.”

  Kebonsat gritted his teeth, his jaws bunching as he stared at the ground. Then he nodded. “Then so be it.”

  “We’ll leave tonight,” Sodur said. “As soon as we have eaten and the horses have rested. The sooner we can get there the better, and if anyone is following, they might not realize you are three less.”

  Two hours later, Kebonsat hugged his sister and helped her mount.

  “Take care of yourself,” he told her, holding her hand in both of his. “Don’t get into trouble.”

  She bent and kissed his cheek, saying something in his ear Reisil couldn’t hear. Each of the three riders had torches strapped to their saddles. The waning moon cast shabby light, but it was enough to see by and they waded out into the grasses, Sodur in the lead, then Ceriba, and Juhrnus bringing up the rear.

  The others bedded down as Edelsat set the watch. Reisil, however, felt edgy and itchy, like ants crawled beneath her skin. She paced into the darkness, starting at the sounds of crickets and the nickering of the horses to one another, her head twisting and turning as if to catch an elusive sound.

  “What is it?” Kebonsat stood beside her, his breath warm on her cheek. He sounded tense, pushed to the edge. Ceriba’s going had been difficult for him. He was torn between protecting her and preventing the war, between the duties of a brother and the duties of a knight. The knight won out, but everything he was rebelled at rescuing his sister only to let her go without him into danger.

  Reisil shook her head. “I don’t know. Something, I—”

  She walked away, every sense straining in the darkness. Kebonsat followed, drawing his sword. Reisil headed up the hollow and found herself outside the hut. She circled around it, running her hand over the wall, coming around the corner and startling the chickens into a cackling fervor. She halted at the door.

  “What’s going on?” Edelsat materialized out of the night, his own sword drawn, his voice low and tense. Kebonsat shook his head and pointed silently at Reisil, Saljane perching quietly on her shoulder.

  She ignored them, drawn by something she couldn’t understand. It was as if something had taken over her body. Panic roared in her chest and she struggled against the geas on her limbs, to no avail. What demon had taken control of her? She could not even make her ahalad-kaaslane hear her.

  She reached out to the door.

  It resisted a moment; then she felt a tearing as the grass catch gave way. She stepped into the rectangle of dirty orange light. The woman sat up on her pallet and made a choked, frightened sound. Reisil wanted to comfort her, but couldn’t. Was the woman was right to be afraid? What was Reisil, or the thing controlling her, going to do here?

  Kebonsat crowded up behind Reisil and peered past, ready to thrust her aside in case of danger.

  A fire made of twisted grass smoked in the center of the dwelling. On either side of it two pallets lay. On one lay a man, staring sightlessly upward, while the woman huddled on the other, grasping two children close. They looked pale and sick, bones thrusting sharply beneath their skin.

  But Reisil hardly saw them. Instead she went to stand over the man, who still didn’t move. One hand lay over the blankets on his chest; the other . . . The other was gone, as was his arm. There was a rushing sound in Reisil’s ears and the feeling beneath her skin increased to an unbearable pitch, as if swarms of insects wiggled and gnawed.

  She knelt heavily, as if a hand on her shoulder pushed her down. She put her hands out, curved like claws. A sound tore through her constricted throat as she tried to pull back, but the compulsion was too strong.

  The woman made a wrenching motion, then clutched her children closer.

  “Don’t . . . Don’t hurt him! He ain’t done nothing to you. War’s over—go away!”

  Reisil looked at her and the woman gasped. For the first time she saw the mark the Lady had set on Reisil’s face. It glowed, and the green of her eyes overflowed into the whites, filling her eyes from corner to corner.

  Gold light dropped from her fingers, splashing on the man’s face and chest.

  He moaned and wheezed, rocking in place. The woman made a keening sound and gave a shriek when Reisil’s hands flattened against her husband’s chest. The gold from Reisil’s hands ran over the man, covering him from head to toe until it wrapped him like a burial shroud. The pattern on her face streamed over her body until every inch of her skin was patterned with glowing, golden ivy. It didn’t stop there, but twined upward over Saljane. The bird mantled and gave a shrieking cry.

  Then, like a blown candle, the light disappeared.

  The woman sobbed piteously, and her children joined her.

  Released suddenly, Reisil staggered to her feet and toward the door. Neither Kebonsat nor Edelsat moved, and she realized they couldn’t see her. Kebonsat felt her stirring in the air and brought his sword up.

  “Reisil?”

  “It’s me. Let’s go.”

  Reisil pushed between the two men and stumbled out of the hut, gasping for breath. Her lungs felt seared. All of her strength was gone with the Lady. For she had no doubt now that the Blessed Amiya had possessed her. She retreated to the camp rolled up in her cloak, her mind reeling. Saljane nestled beside her, fierce amber eyes shining in the firelight. Edelsat and Kebonsat followed more slowly, as silent as Reisil.

  Reisil fought the exhaustion that dragged at her. What had happened? Why had the Lady thrust Her hand into Reisil like a puppet?

  ~We serve.

  Saljane’s mindvoice carried with it a shrug. There was no accounting for the gods.

  Comforted by her ahalad-kaaslane’s diffident acceptance, Reisil relaxed and fell asleep.

  Edelsat roused the camp two hours before dawn.

  “Make haste, lads,” he called out softly. “Time’s wasting.” He nudged Kebonsat and jerked his chin toward Reisil. Kebonsat nodded and went to kneel before her as she struggled upright, yawning widely. He watched as she combed out her hair and rebraided it.

  “We’ve got to do something about Saljane. With her, you clearly stick out as ahalad-kaaslane. We won’t make it far once someone spots her.”

  Reisil nodded, her brow furrowing. “She can’t fly—even if it weren’t dark, and she could stay aloft all day, I’ll need her with me.”

  “You could settle her in your lap beneath your cloak,” Kebonsat suggested doubtfully. “Won’t be comfortable for her and it’s going to get hot. You’ll have to be careful not to let your cloak fall open. As it is, you’re going to get attention for being a woman. Dressed as you are, with that face—you’re going to be conspicuous. Patversemese women don’t go about in trousers, riding horseback with a troop of soldiers.” He paused, thinking. “We could take advantage of that. Put you on the wagon seat. Especially with your face, you’ll look like a—” He broke off, his cheeks flushing.

  “A whore. Camp follower,” Reisil finished with a wry grimace. “Perfectly natural. All right. Let no one say my pride got in the way of stopping the war. Saljane can ride under the seat. Just make sure one of you claims me in case anyone asks.”

  And ask they did.

  With the gold ivy running teasingly from her face down into her tunic, tanned skin, jet hair and snapping green eyes, Reisil looked exotic and mysterious. The past weeks had given her body a lithe quality, as well as a sense of confidence, both of which translated into alluring boldness.

  As they entered the sprawling perimeter of the Patverseme army, Edelsat’s men formed a protective wedge around the wagon. Otherwise they would have made little headway at all against the eager admirers who
sought Reisil’s company, some waving pouches of silver, others singing songs and bragging of their physical prowess and stamina. Though some had wives or mistresses amongst the camp followers, most were lonely for companionship. Reisil never responded to their hails, merely smiling enigmatically. But if the interest didn’t affect her, the coarse attention infuriated Kebonsat and Edelsat, both of whom grew more and more wrathful.

  “I’m fine,” Reisil soothed quietly as Kebonsat rode beside her, his face brick red. “They’re supposed to think I’m a whore. The plan is working.” She was more amused than anything else.

  “They are unruly pigs. If they were mine, I’d stake them out for a day.” Reisil gave him a startled look, surprised at his vehemence. Then understanding hit her.

  “These aren’t like the men who had Ceriba. Most of these are harmless. If I said no, I’d be all right.”

  “It has nothing to do with my sister,” Kebonsat said in a contemptuous voice; then he jerked his horse away, spurring him to the front of the line. She stared after him, frowning. Soon he’d increased their pace so that Reisil’s would-be lovers were in danger of being run down if they tried to approach.

  Traveling through the massive sprawl of soldiers, dogs, horses, camp followers, even families, was like wandering through a small city where the roads changed constantly with no landmarks to guide them. They had concluded that the command and royal tents would be somewhere near the Enclave Point along the Trieste River, but getting there was no easy task. They snaked through the bustling menagerie at what seemed to Reisil to be an ambling snail’s pace. The tension began to show as Edelsat’s men exchanged angry words with onlookers. It didn’t help that they’d removed any hint of their house connections to avoid detection. And it was good they had, for several times strangers stopped to study their passage with an intent air.

  Several were wizards, Reisil realized, after Edelsat pointed out the three-pointed, twisted silver pins they wore on their collars. Kvepi Buris had worn such a pin. None were women. Reisil wondered if women were forbidden power in Patverseme, or if the magic never rooted in them. She hoped so. It made her less like the wizards.