“The well has been poisoned,” Cannik said. He too rose and tried his best to clean himself.
“Poison? What kind of poison?” Katya knew a lot about poisons, normal and magical.
“I’m not sure,” Carrik said, shaking his head. “There were no dead bodies in the water. I smelled no sulfur or other noxious things. The runes on the rocks beside the well said the water was sweet. But my two camels took a long drink, rolled up their eyes and were dead before they finished swallowing.”
“It sounds like magic,” Katya whispered. and she thought she knew which spell. A nasty one that took a lot of energy and many ingredients to create. An ordinary spell-caster would need days to recover afterward.
“We have no maji in the caravan,” Cannik protested.
“Are there residents of the oasis?” Katya began rummaging in her bags; prepared for most emergencies on the road.
“A few,” Cannik said. His eyes half-closed indicating he was deep in thought.
“Enough for a mage to hide among them?” She whirled to face him and drag the information out of him if necessary.
“I shall look.”
“Look hard, under every rock,” Katya spat. “Whoever did it will be drained, likely too tired even to stand.” Her hands shook as she fumbled the knot on the silk leash to Sha’awna.
“What are you doing?” the lady asked. An edge of panic touched her voice. “You aren’t going to leave me!”
“I must, Lady. I must negate the spell. None of us or our animals will make it to the next oasis without water tonight. The sun is already down. We can go no further. I have to do what I can to save the water.”
“Wh...what am I to do?”
“I will ask the silk merchant...”
“No. He cannot protect me.” She gathered her courage around her like a cloak. “Kat, I will go with you. Tell me the shape and size of your bundles and vials. I can identify them by touch and pass them to you.”
Katya paused only a moment. “Very well, my Lady.” She tied the cord around her wrist again.
“My name is Sha’awna.”
“And mine is Katya. You just made a choice, my...Sha’awna. Two of them actually. You are not completely devoid of options.”
Lady Sha’awna nodded. “I will have one chance, one choice to regain control of my life. The time will come and I know what I will choose. But the time and place are not right.” She firmed her chin.
Katya said nothing, merely tugged lightly on the leash and walked toward the well. The blue bead in her hair began to vibrate. The closer she came, the more violent its dance against her temple. “About time, you woke up,” she muttered.
The sight of the camels sprawled in their ungainly death made her stiffen. She recognized the green foam around their mouths, the same tinge to their rolled up eyes, and the awkward position of their knees caught in violent death spasms.
Ugly deaths, not fitting to offer to the goddess Shi’in. Katya did not like poisons, though she would use them if necessary.
If one offered death to another, the most intimate action one could perform, more intimate than any act of love or sex, then it needed to be done face to face. She preferred to see the light fade from her target’s eyes and then briefly flare as they caught sight of the terrible beauty of what lay on the other side of this life.
This poison gave the wielder distance both from his target and responsibility for the deaths.
“Amateurs,” she snarled. “Kill the entire caravan for one person, most likely.”
“Untrained, or desperate?” Sha’awna asked in that uncanny way of hers.
“Both,” Katya agreed. “But who is their primary target?”
“The entire caravan. We carry some valuable silk, spices, and wine,” Cannik offered, returning from his errand. He shook his head indicating he’d found no mage.
Silk, spice, and wine. Not worth the cost of the spell to either the crafter or the caster.
“If our cargo is the assassin’s target, then why kill the camels when they will be needed to carry it off? This is the pool for beasts. Is the well for people also poisoned?”
“I assumed so.” Cannik ran off to make sure. He returned moments later with the assurance that the human well was untainted, if a bit heavy with ground minerals.
Without another word, Katya set about negating the magically charged poison. She and Sha’awna laid out each of the potions and talismans needed, in order of use. Katya took a deep breath to center her concentration. For the next hour she focused all of her will into turning the water sweet again.
When she finished, her hands shook with the waves of energy and power that had passed through her. When she tried to stand, shock waves of pain and weakness shot from her knees to her head.
Cannik caught her before she fell. “I’ve seen to your tent. You and Lady Sha’awna may retire there in peace. Rest well for you will need your strength tomorrow. By noon we will reach the river, thanks to you. We must reach the ford before sunset to find safe campground.”
“The ford?” Katya looked up to read the tightness of his mouth and the deep lines around his eyes that said a lot more than his words. “Outlaws will hit us there. Not from the heights. That is why they poisoned the well, to slow us down, make us more awkward crossing the river.” The blue bead tingled a bit in agreement.
“I’ll make sure they don’t,” Cannik reassured her.
* * *
The caravan trudged warily along the south riverbank, skirting tall hills that rose steeply and sharply above the narrow trail. Everyone kept a wary eye on the ridges above, seeking any sign of movement or odd shadow that might give them a bit of warning of ambush.
Cannik scattered his men the full length of the twisting line of travelers. They all wore their weapons openly, revealing swords, bows with full quivers, short knives, daggers, throwing stars, whips, and bolos. A few of the merchants carried spears and wore leather armor and helms. Katya made Sha’awna walk with the tall camels between them and the hills. She kept her charge close, guiding her with a touch to her elbow over the tricky footing.
“My men dispatched a dozen raiders. Another dozen fled,” Cannik whispered as he passed Katya. I don’t know if they will return for vengeance or flee in fright.”
At last the wind ceased tearing at them, becoming more a sigh than a scream, the path broadened into a road, the hills shrank, the river spread out and grew less frantic and deep. An eerie quiet descended among the caravan.
Then Katya spied the causeway that should give them safe footing across the water.
The river poured through a wide gash in the dressed stones. Spray and trickles dampened the rest of the path, making footing slippery and treacherous. The break looked natural, a few stones pushed out of the way after a recent storm, not the work of raiders.
“Ropes! We need every rope you have,” Cannik called from the head of the line.
Katya tiredly dug out a thick coil from her packs. “You came prepared,” Cannik said as he traveled the line collecting all that he could.
“I’m always prepared.” Katya touched the blue bead. It remained calm. If danger lurked it was not imminent. She hoped that perhaps the outlaws did not plan to attack them as they crossed.
Slowly, carefully, they sent strong swimmers across with ropes tied to their waists. Within a short time they had crude guidelines strung the full width of the river. The gap was not so wide after all. The long legged camels crossed it with a single step. When Katya’s and Sha’awna’s turn came, Cannik made sure they were firmly lashed together and to him. He carried the blind girl across the gap while Katya anchored him. Then he stood fast, letting her borrow his strength until she, too, stood on firmer ground.
“Is it here?” Sha’awna whispered the moment they set foot on dry land.
“Is what here?” Katya asked, more snappish than polite.
“Home,” Sha’awna replied just as sharply. “My sanctuary.” She paused, almost as if scenting the air. “My c
hoice.”
Katya looked around. Mostly she saw people setting up camp or crossing the river. The blue bead caressed her face. No warning of danger, more a thrill of completion. She looked closer at the lush landscape that graced this side of the river. A quarter league away, well above the flood line but close enough to utilize the river, a dense copse blocked sight of what lay within its shadows. Then a chance shift of light as the sun drifted toward the horizon caught a glint off polished granite.
A rare stone in these parts. A heavy stone to drag from the hills. Something manmade and important must reside there. Katya’s heart seemed to swell with a sense of familiar welcome. She needed to go there. She needed to be there. Now.
She took Sha’awna’s hand. Together they began to circle the copse deosil, the way of the sun. Before long, on the western side, Katya spied a path, not much more than a game trail but clear of major obstacles.
Whatever lay within tugged at her, urging her to push her tired feet faster.
“It’s here. I can smell it. I feel the awesome presence,” Sha’awna insisted, pressing close to Katya, urging her to move faster yet.
“What is it?” Katya asked. The slanted light from the dying sun showed a clear spot just ahead. Blood shone in that light. Dark and foreboding. And yet it also held the promise of the warmth of a cheery fire contained within a hearth.
Sha’awna rushed past Katya, dragging her by the silken leash. She cast off her hat and veil just before stumbling on the first of the granite steps leading to the open square. Katya helped her to stand, all the while surveying their surroundings. The blue bead remained dormant. No overt threat. But Katya had not survived in a dangerous world and a more dangerous career by relying solely on talismans and spells. She trusted her eyes, her ears, and her gut instinct.
Tiny vines and grasses poked through the minute seams in the paving of the large square, open now, once enclosed by walls and pillars. The surrounding jungle of scrub trees and groundcover needed time to encroach as far as it had. At lot of time, many seasons of rains and seeds to wear space in those cracks. Something wild and strong had scattered the pillars and walls outside the square. Surrounding buildings, much smaller, lacked roofs and doors. Gaps in the stone walls where windows once lighted the interiors were now un-shuttered and un-glazed.
And then she spotted the scorch marks. Fire had reigned here once. Fire and destruction. She knew the patterns, had seen them before in another temple, another place and time. But these patterns began and died out in different sections. Only the attempt to break the altar remained the same.
“What is this place?” Katya whispered. “What god was worshipped here?” It all felt familiar with just enough difference that she knew this place was not home. Yet she was welcome.
“Was?” Sha’awna gasped. “Where are the chanting priests and priestesses? I smell no incense or candles. I hear no hymns of praise. What happened?” Her last question rose on a frightened squeal.
“There is no one here, now. The place was burned out and abandoned long ago.”
Sha’awna dropped to her knees, all traces of her natural grace gone. “Lost. I am lost. Totally, irrevocably lost.” She slumped, clutching her stomach. Tears streaked her face. “My only choices have been stolen. I have nothing left. I am nothing.” She collapsed prostrate on the ground, long fingers scrabbling at the worn granite.
A rush of noise rose behind them. “My Lady, my love, where are you? Do not hide from me, your prince!”
Sha’awna groaned. “Lost. I am lost.”
“My Lady.” Katya dropped to her knees cradling her sobbing friend. “Dry your tears, my Lady. Your journey is almost done. Your prince has ridden out to meet you.”
“My prince,” Sha’awna spat. “My owner. I am as much a slave as ever. Money exchanged hands; none of it came to me. Contracts signed, none by me. None of it my choice. I am not even to have the honor of becoming a wife. Merely a consort.”
“Even so, my Lady. My friend. As consort you will have rights and privileges, far beyond what was granted you as a courtesan.”
“Neither the man nor the place of my enslavement were my choice.” Her voice became angry.
The voices grew closer, along with the sounds of heavy feet thrashing through the undergrowth.
“Here I had hoped to find sanctuary with my goddess. But that too has been stolen from me.” Slowly, almost painfully Sha’awna pushed herself to sit.
“Which goddess do you worship?” Katya asked urgently. “This place feels so familiar, I am so comfortable here, this almost might be the last resting place of—” She broke off, unwilling to say the name aloud. “Who do you follow, Sha’awna?”
“I...” Sha’awna drew herself straighter and stared blankly in the direction of the crowd approaching them.
A short man with big hands and feet, dressed in dark blue robes, swooped down upon them. He gathered Sha’awna into his arms and showered kisses over her sunburned face, smoothing her grimy hair.
Katya pointedly released the silken cord from her wrist and handed it to Sha’awna.
“Here, here is the rest of your bounty for bringing my one true love to me,” the prince said, fumbling at his waist for a heavy purse. He thrust it into Katya’s hands without looking at her. “Come, my sweet. We will rest here tonight and return to my city on the morrow.” He continued to cover her face with kisses as he rose, bringing her into his arms to carry her back to camp.
A bubble of something like pride, or maybe the end of a friendship, burst inside Katya.
Choice. She had choices in her life. Dangerous ones. Sometimes distasteful ones, sometimes glorious ones. But they were hers and hers alone. She had enemies. Enemies she could choose to run from or confront.
Her choice.
Without a backward glance she marched ahead of Sha’awna and her adoring prince, grabbed the reins of her still loaded camels and turned back the way she had come, across the ford, onto the dangerous and winding path along the river.
“Kat, where are you going?” Cannik ran up beside her.
“Lady Sha’awna was right,” Katya said softly. Then, turning to look at Cannik, she answered him in a stronger voice. “My job here is finished, my friend. It is time now for me to go home and confront my enemies. I need to do this. I choose to do this. I will run from them no more.”
Cannik looked at her for a long moment, then drew his blade and tossed her a quick salute. “If your old life ever bores you...” he said.
Katya smiled and returned the salute. “I’ll remember,” she said, then turned and started on the long, hard journey home.
The Nightmare Beast
By Laurie Tom
The cloaked figure was clearly a woman; narrow shoulders, rounded hips. She idled in the private room in the back of the Quill & Drink, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she glanced over the shelves of tiny, decorative pottery that lined the far wall. A round, worn table with an hourglass on its surface stood not three feet from her. Two chairs sat on either side, pulled out and inviting, but she remained standing. Certainly there was enough for the bored mind to look at. Aside from the painted pots, a bevy of thickly woven tapestries lined the room. They were not purely for aesthetic purposes. They muffled any sound that might come through the walls, in any direction.
Katya watched her reclusive guest from an alcove hidden by one of the tapestries. The woman had arrived early, which made for a promising arrangement. Not all prospective clients treated Katya's work seriously, for assassination was not considered a "proper" line of business.
The top half of the hourglass was almost empty, but Katya lingered in hiding a while longer, wanting to better understand the one who wished to hire her. This one had lived a privileged life. From beneath her cloak, she would raise her hand to touch the fabric of the tapestries, testing their quality between her fingertips. Her hand was pale, that of a person who spent no time working beneath the heat of the sun, and a wide band of woven gold rode high on he
r wrist.
Soon there was no time left. Katya was due.
She brushed aside the tapestry and stepped into the room. Her client had faced away, her attention caught by a silk weaving beside the pottery shelves. This one possessed no single focal image, instead depicting three exquisitely different flocks of cranes.
"Good evening," said Katya.
The woman spun around, head tilted up then down as she realized the speaker was shorter than her. To her eyes, Katya was a stocky woman with brown skin, green eyes, and a red scarf wrapped about her braided hair. It was a simple spell that disguised her, and a particularly canny client might even recognize it as one, but it only made sense when one's profession required the death of others. An assassin easily made enemies.
"Good evening," said the woman. She sat in one of the open chairs as Katya gestured towards it. "Might you be Lady Kat?"
Katya nodded at the sound of her professional name and took her seat.
The woman pointed to the weaving she had been studying. "I don't know if you realize it, but that tapestry over there is a Kaigonese shawl. It's meant to be worn in spring rather than hung."
Katya knew that, having worn one many a time before, but aloud she said, "The tavern owner might not have known. This is still his room, though I conduct my business here."
"Oh." The woman pulled back her arm and let her hands fall into her lap. "It's been so long since I've seen one. It seems like such a waste."
"You're from Kaigon then?" If so, her accent had long since vanished.
"No, I'm from Misso. It's one of the island nations around Kaigon, so we saw a lot of trade with them. I came to Ankora by boat a few years ago; not entirely by choice. I still miss it."
Something in the tone of voice, the wistfulness, reminded Katya of her own trip back from Kaigon to Ankora. It had been a long journey, sitting below decks of a great ship with merchants and other passengers departing the northern continent. She'd passed much of the time with another young woman, a minor noble, whose family had presence, but little money. They wanted to get into the merchant business to improve their finances, she'd said, so they were sending her to her new husband, a wealthy merchant based in Ankora. It was the right move for her family, but the way she'd said it left little doubt that she had hoped for more.
The Taste of Waterfruit and Other Stories (Story Portals) Page 11
