The song was a lie. In the Commons, dogs were working animals, not pets, fed scraps from the master’s table if they were fed at all, and puppies were more often drowned in the river than loved.
The song was a lie, but it was soothing and cheerful, and Teverus had nothing else he could give to his little Kilah.
Six years. She’d only had six years on the world. Teverus had once been an assassin, a cruel and unforgiving killer, but he’d never struck down a child in her sixth year.
And if six years was too short a time for a father to know his daughter, it was still more time than Teverus had known his wife. Sheera had died two years after they’d married, struck down by a fever. How different his life would have been if he’d not fallen in love with Sheera. He might’ve slipped out of the Commons, made a life someplace better. But gazing down at the sweet face of his daughter he couldn’t bring himself to regret that choice.
Even if he and Kilah had only been given six years.
Teverus’s vision blurred and he bowed his head, drew a shuddery breath. He looked up and--
Something moved.
He froze. The motion had been slight and he’d only seen it out of the corner of his eyes, but he didn’t doubt for a moment that it was real.
The hovel did not have rooms. It was a single space, with few places to hide, but Teverus had set a wardrobe by the door. The piece looked horribly out of place in the hovel, but it had its uses. It was stuffed full of clothes and it contained a false bottom, beneath which he’d secreted certain documents that he couldn’t do without and he didn’t dare let anyone find.
The darkness of the hovel had painted the other side of that wardrobe with black shadow.
There was a small knife on the table by Kilah’s head, a knife Teverus used for slicing cheese and peeling apples. Its blade was no longer than his index finger and its edge dull, but it would have to do.
Teverus was disciplined. His eyes didn’t go to the knife.
“The bandage on your arm is too tight, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Let me take care of that for you.”
Without looking he reached for the knife.
A strong voice, a woman’s voice said: “If your fingers so much as brush the haft of that knife, I promise you, you’ll lose all use of your hand below the wrist. Permanently.”
Teverus stopped the movement of his hand, no more than a few fingerwidths from the little blade. He sat there for a moment, considering. Then he sighed and leaned back into his chair, putting both hands in his lap. “I hope our little domestic troubles have provided you with sufficient entertainment,” he said bitterly.
“I’m not here for entertainment, Teverus,” she said.
The last word sent a chill wriggling up his spine. She knows my true name.
The woman stepped out of the wardrobe’s shadow and into the flickering, golden light of the many candles. Teverus’s breath caught. Up close she was even more beautiful than she appeared in the market. And then she tilted her head and the candlelight caught her eyes.
And Teverus’s heart quailed in his chest.
Because this woman’s eyes were not blue, as he’d imagined. Up close, they were the most extraordinary shade of violet.
Teverus thought he knew who this woman was.
When he lived in the city, he’d heard many a story of a strong, tall woman with skin the soft color of earth and eyes that captured the purple of night. A woman who was clever and strong and as dangerous as an unsheathed blade.
“Lady Kat,” he whispered.
She inclined her head, and smiled slightly. “Well, now that the introductions are out of the way.”
“Please,” he said, “don’t kill me.” He reached out and gently brushed a sweat-soaked lock of brown hair out of the little girl’s closed eyes. “At least not until I can see to Kilah.”
Kat looked at the sleeping girl in the bed for a long moment and then she met his eyes. “I am not here for you.”
Teverus snorted. “Of course not. Why would one of the city’s most dangerous assassins be looking for me? Just because I killed a man on the Assassin Guild’s no-kill list and got caught.”
The woman shrugged. “That was a long time ago.”
“You forget, I was in the business.” Teverus sighed. “I remember when the city guard uncovered the house of horrors that Gliddus the death mage used to stash his human cattle. Whores and cutpurses. The aged and infirm. The pestilent. Infants spirited away from mothers who’d died in childbirth. Lost waifs. Their lives, their lives, no more than fuel for his mad power.” He shook his head. “I remember that hunt very well. The city put a big enough price on Gliddus’s head that every man or boy who could hold a blade was pressed into service. That’s what the hunt was like for me. They haven’t forgotten me, Kat, no matter what you say.”
The woman folded her arms across her pretty chest. “Gliddus. That’s another name I haven’t heard for many a year. You do love your history, don’t you, Teverus?”
He shook his head. “Sorry. I’m not much up on the current state of things, I’m afraid.”
“Why did you stay in the Commons?” she asked softly. “Surely you had prepared a bolt hole or two for an emergency.”
Teverus nodded. “Six, actually. They almost got me at the first one I tried. After that, I decided hiding in the Commons was my best chance.”
“But surely after a few years you could have . . .”
“The soil in the commons is fertile.” Teverus caressed Kilah’s round cheek. “I looked up one day and found I’d put down roots.” He swallowed and looked up at her. “I’m surprised at you.”
Kat raised an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”
“The Lady Kat is not reputed to be so talkative before a kill.”
“I told you, I’m not here to take your life.”
“Then why, pray tell, are you here?”
The woman drew a deep breath. “For the same reason you are. I killed a man on the no-kill list and now I am hunted like an animal.”
That made Teverus sit back and think. By the gods, could they really be hunting Lady Kat? He had seen the riders himself. And he knew well how dangerous the taste of forbidden fruit could be. He could think of no other reason for her to be here. Surely, if she intended to kill him, she would have done it already.
“I need someone who has skill in the magical art of disguise,” said the woman. “This is why I followed you from the market. I need someone who has enough skill that he could disguise the mice in the fields so that the hawk’s eye passes over them, unseeing. I can see from your changed face that you know such a person.”
He looked up at her, measuring.
“Who helped you hide, Teverus?”
“His name is Aarock,” he said after a short time. “A priest with a small parish. His magics are small, but subtle. I will send you to him.”
Kat chuckled. “You must think my mind is feeble indeed if you believe I would accept that offer. How would I know you weren’t sending me into a trap? No, I think it’s better if we both go.”
“Are you mad?” Teverus snapped, “I cannot leave my daughter. When I get back she’ll--” Suddenly he couldn’t go on.
The woman frowned. “You can have someone sit with her.” For a moment she peered at the sleeping girl. “I have seen this sickness before. It still has a few days before it, ah, runs its course.” Suddenly her voice was gentle. “You have time to return to her.”
“You are the reason she’s dying,” Teverus snarled.
Kat’s eyebrows shot up. “I hardly think that’s so.”
“I had purchased a poultice to save her, but I lost it in the trouble you brought to the market. Now she’ll surely die and it’s your fault.”
“You can’t afford a second medicine?”
Teverus raised his arms, indicating the hovel’s sparse interior. “What do you think?”
“You are a skilled assassin, Teverus. Why not simply kill the witch who fashions the poultice and steal one? I�
��m sure you could make her death appear to be the result of her age and hard life.”
Teverus turned away from Lady Kat and looked down at his sick daughter. He had wrestled with this very question for most of the previous week. He could do what she suggested. But to save Kilah’s life by murdering an innocent woman, by murdering Mela, seemed wrong somehow. Dirty.
He turned and looked up at her. “That part of my life is over.”
Lady Kat nodded. “All right. Then come with me. If you are faithful and true, I pledge that I will help Kilah before the fever runs its course.”
Teverus stood up so fast he knocked the chair over. “Y-you’ll buy her a second poultice?” he whispered, hardly daring to believe that it might be true.
The woman flashed him a strange look, one that worried Teverus because he didn’t understand what it meant.
But she said: “If that is what she needs most.”
* * *
After an uneasy and sleepless night spent in the hovel, Lady Kat and Teverus set off at dawn. By mid-morning, the summer had already unsheathed its wicked claws, transforming the air into a kind of soup, humid with the wisps of steam rising off the Itrik river and freighted with the rich, green smell of growing things. Sweat burned Teverus’s eyes and he dragged the back of his arm across his face. Moments later, sweat stung his eyes again.
He had walked this path many times, but this was the first time he’d ever rode it. It had turned out that Kat had not only managed to hide away a horse, but she’d managed to hide away two.
They were travelling along a dirt trail that followed the wide, placid river as it journeyed south into a broad tableland filled with farms. Thick bushes and unruly grass crowded the banks of the river, growing in the shade of tall cottonseed trees whose branches merged into a shadowy canopy, beneath which pieces of white fluff fell like snow. The pair pushed through this maze of greens and browns, barely wide enough to allow a single rider to pass.
Since he knew the way, Teverus led.
He knew every bend and turn of that little highway. For example, he knew that a couple hundred strides further south the path split, one branch following the river and the other cutting through the forest, its entrance hidden from the untrained eye by a wall of green. In a less than a quarter-candlemark they’d reach this spot.
Teverus could touch the twisted iron charm at his neck and ignite a small flash of light, blinding Kat for a few critical moments as he urged his horse into a gallop. He could send the horse down the main path and dive behind that wall of bracken and brush.
He estimated his chances at success at two parts in three.
It was a foolish risk--if Kat really planned to honor her promise to save Kilah. But why should she? If she was really on the run, why would she leave a loose end?
And if she weren’t . . . ?
Teverus could think of no reason why she’d be here if she weren’t being hunted. And yet her story bothered him. Who would choose to come to this land of grinding poverty?
“You are quiet, Master Teverus,” said Lady Kat.
He glanced back at her. “When you compelled me to be your guide I didn’t realize I was also required to keep you entertained.”
Lady Kat flashed him a lopsided smile that despite everything somehow managed to be fetching. “Well, now that you know, I expect you to make a better effort.”
He turned back to the path, feeling the heat of the day baking him in his clothes, the thorny branches of bracken pricking and pulling at him, the river singing to itself in its liquid voice. “Something’s not right,” he finally said, looking back at her.
“Oh?” she said, raising an eyebrow.
“I am fairly certain you don’t intend to kill me.”
“A supposition strongly supported by the fact that you yet remain alive.”
“But why would you choose to hide here.”
She shrugged. “Why choose to hide anywhere? This strategy is not expected. The point of hiding is not to be found.”
“But, my lady, the Commons is a place of death. It positively reeks with it. Here there is starvation and disease, drunken brawls and blades in the back. Death stalks the mice in the fields, the beasts in the abattoir.” He paused. “The children in their beds.” He shook his head. “What kind of person would choose to hide amongst all that death?”
She smiled then, but it was not the kind of smile that he’d ever seen on her face before.
Usually he found her smiles to be lovely. They were little girl smiles, spontaneous and bright against her dusky skin, joyous and mischievous, trouble and wonder all rolled into a single expression.
This was not one of those.
This was a small, tight smile. The cold, lifeless smile of a skull stripped of its flesh.
It frightened Teverus immensely.
“My enemies have pushed me out of the city,” she says. “My city. But I plan to stay close. And watch. If they make the slightest misstep, I will be on them in an instant.”
“Well,” said Teverus. “I’m certainly glad I decided to entertain you. Because that wasn’t mad or unsettling at all.”
She laughed at that and she flashed him her regular smile, but there was something there in her eyes, something hard that Teverus didn’t like.
Teverus turned and his gaze traveled down the narrow path. They had nearly reached the spot where he might escape. Again he balanced the risks and advantages against each other. It rankled him to admit it, but he was not entirely sure what was going on. But one thing was absolutely certain.
Lady Kat was a dangerous, deadly creature.
His right hand drifted up and he placed his hand on his chest just below his neck. He felt the hard links of chain beneath the rough skin of his hand.
This time, Kat didn’t notice the dangerous motion.
All he had to do was reach inside his shirt and clasp the--
Something jerked his hand away from his chest, as if a man had grabbed his arm and pulled. Teverus glanced down and was astonished to see that a red-fletched arrow had pierced his sleeve.
“Lady,” he shouted.
But Kat needed no warning. She brushed her hand against a ring she wore on her right hand. When a man wielding a long sword burst from the forest she hit him with a flash of yellow light and the man collapsed to the ground, his limbs locked in place like he were a statue.
She wove another spell and suddenly the world was blurry. It was as if Teverus were drunk. Objects, trees, and Lady Kat, and Teverus’s own hand, seemed to have echoes. They were hazy and indistinct, smeared out through the very air. It was only an illusion, Teverus could feel that he only had one hand, but it would throw off the archer’s aim.
Not that they weren’t still trying.
Arrows whispered through air. Teverus heard an arrow thunk into a cottonseed trunk no more than an armslength from his head. The archers were finding their range. In a moment he and Kat would be pincushions.
At the same time he heard the sound of galloping hoofbeats.
The riders were coming.
All this he thought in a flash of insight.
Teverus turned his mount slightly, angling it across the path. Another arrow passed close by, close enough he felt its flight.
“Trust me?” he demanded.
Kat frowned, but nodded.
“When I tell you, close your eyes as tight as you can. And then ready yourself to ride.”
A rider burst around a corner. He was sixty, seventy strides back and riding hard. Teverus flashed on long, black hair and a scar on his chin. The man saw Teverus and his face twisted into a scowl. Quick as lightning the man raised a bow and loosed an arrow. Despite Kat’s spell the arrow was disturbingly close.
When Teverus saw the second rider appear behind the first, he clutched the charm beneath his shirt.
“Now,” he shouted, screwing his own eyes tightly shut.
And then the world exploded in a flash of light. It was blinding, like being caught inside lightning. Ev
en with his head bowed and his eyes shut as tight as he could make them, the flash stung his eyes.
“Hah,” Teverus shouted, urging his horse on. He heard hoofbeats behind him and glanced back. It was Lady Kat.
Teverus galloped right around a turn in the path and turned left around a second. Still there was no pursuit.
That would change quickly enough.
There. A fallen cottonseed log half-hidden by a blanket of ferns. Teverus drew his horse to a halt and dismounted.
“What are you doing?” Kat whispered fiercely.
“Get down,” Teverus whispered back. “Now.”
He slapped his own horse on the rear flank and it took off, galloping down the path.
Kat hesitated and then she vaulted off the beast. She sent her own mount chasing after the first.
Teverus grabbed her hand and pulled her along with him, stepping around the log, careful not to trample any of the ferns or leave any other signs of their passage. He pushed through a curtain of pale green hanging moss and suddenly they were on a second path.
Teverus looked back at Kat and held a finger to his lips. Then he crouched down, not wanting to draw attention through the sound of their flight. Lady Kat crouched beside him.
Moments later, he heard a horse gallop past. And then a second. And then a third. Followed by men running, no doubt the local archers and armsmen the riders had hired to spring their trap. Of the men on foot, Teverus estimated there were no less than three and no more than six.
He never heard the fourth horse. Teverus frowned at that. Perhaps one of the riders had been knocked from his mount by the flash of blinding light. It seemed a likely possibility, but there was no way to be certain.
When he was absolutely sure their enemies had passed he stood and glided silently down the path.
After a hundred strides, Kat spoke in a low tone. “So we go the rest of the way on foot?”
“It’s not far,” said Teverus.
“That was quite clever, back there.”
Teverus acknowledged the compliment with a nod.
The Taste of Waterfruit and Other Stories (Story Portals) Page 14
