by Watson Davis
The road leveled out and merged with another, sloping down into a valley, with more mountains and forests before them. Sifa drove the horse onto this new road. “I thought I did a good thing, freeing all those people, showing them the truth. I thought I was helping.”
They crossed over a narrow bridge leading to the east.
Che-su grimaced. “These people were better off in their ignorance.”
“Were they really?” Sifa asked, turning in the seat to peer back at her mother. “You saw how angry they were when they were freed. They’ve been locked away in their own minds. They were not angry at me for freeing them.”
“The Empress will come here and enslave them all again,” Che-su said, shaking her head, easing back down into the bed of the cart now that the road had smoothed. “In the end, you’ve freed no one and nothing will be different than it was.”
“Well!” Sifa said. “I am not done yet.”
“You are a beautiful, wonderful little girl,” Che-su said, smiling, pulling the burned cloth away from Shiyk’yath’s stub. “Why do you think you can make a difference in the world? We need to head to Tuth-yoo and get on a ship to Shria.”
Shiyk’yath groaned and said, “Morrin. It’s further away.”
“Fine, Morrin, then,” Che-su said. “We need to leave this insanity behind and live our lives somewhere we can be free of Vellin’s domination.”
“Yes!” Shiyk’yath said, his words slurred with pain. “I’ve been telling her that since we left Ofo.”
KA-BES SLID FROM HER saddle and dropped into a puddle on the muddy ground beside Ja-ast. Wagons creaked down the road, their wheels sinking into the muck, the horses’ hooves kicking up mud. Dark storm clouds churned in the distance to the southeast, flashing with lightning.
Ka-bes stretched her legs and her back, staring up at the name of the inn: The Charming Jackal. She punched Ja-ast in the arm. “Of all the places to eat in Basaliyasta, you brought me here?”
He shrugged as he tied his horse to a pole before the pub. “It’s a good place. They’ve got great food.”
“The last time we were here, Diyune marked us,” Ka-bes said, reaching up to her pommel and putting her foot back into the stirrups, preparing to jump back up into the saddle. “I’m not eating in this damned stinkhole.”
“Come on, it’s just an inn with good food and nice rooms,” Ja-ast said. “You can’t hold our bad luck against it.”
“There was no luck involved with our downfall, it was all my poor judgment in trying to help you get a passing grade,” Ka-bes said. The horse moved to the side, away from Ka-bes, and she hopped to maintain her balance. “Be still!”
“Well, I’m going in here,” he said. “I’ve eaten here several times since then because unlike some people I’m not superstitious and I don’t hold grudges.” He trotted up the stairs. “I’m not judging you or anything, you gullible bumpkin.”
Ka-bes sighed and yanked her boot from the stirrup. She tied her horse to the pole beside Ja-ast’s and followed him in through the door into the darkness of the pub. Her mouth watered at the scent of roasting pig and grilled asparagus.
A bartender sat with his thick forearms on the bar, glowering at Ja-ast and Ka-bes with a disapproving glare. Two soldiers at a table by the door gnawed on ribs, the red sauce and juice dripping down their chins onto the table top.
Ja-ast held up two fingers and said, “Two of the racks with the amber ale.”
“No,” Ka-bes said, shaking her head. “I’ll have the stew and a glass of red wine.”
Ja-ast turned to her and raised his eyebrows. “Who said the second rack was for you?”
She stared at him.
“Right,” he said, nodding toward the bartender. He selected a table and slid into a seat. “It was for you, but you shouldn’t make assumptions.”
Ka-bes slid into a chair next to him, keeping her eyes on the soldiers as they devoured their meal. She whispered, “So how are we going to do this?”
“Should we do this?” Ja-ast asked, leaning back in his chair and propping his right foot up on an empty chair across the table from him. “Diyune might not exactly welcome us with open arms and trot out Che-su to confer with you.”
“It’s not so much her,” Ka-bes said. “It’s more about keeping Sifa from doing something stupid. She has a gift for that.”
“So that makes it easy,” Ja-ast said. “We just go to the temple square and sit down on the front steps and wait for your girl to walk by. Boom.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Ka-bes said.
“Yay!” Ja’ast clapped his hands. “Then we have a plan.”
A waitress walked up with a mug of beer and a glass of wine and set them down before Ja-ast and Ka-bes.
Ja-ast grinned up at her and said, “Looks like you guys have been having some bad weather.”
She rolled her eyes, but one of the soldiers seated across the room from them turned his head toward them and said, “Ain’t natural. Had a big magic battle between some hedge wizard and the bishop. Tore up the temple pretty bad.”
“A hedge wizard?” Ka-bes asked, her hands gripping the table to keep her from bounding to her feet, her insides twisting into knots and the blood draining from her face. “Fought Diyune?”
The waitress whirled and strode back around the bar and into the kitchen.
“Yeah,” the other soldier said, chewing with his mouth open, smacking his lips. “Got pretty fierce there for a bit. Storm was a killer. We heard Diyune beat her up, but the next thing we hear is she’s loose and we got to find her in the town and then the next thing is she’s escaped and we’re heading east.”
“She got loose?” Ka-bes asked, gulping.
The second soldier grinned and said, “Don’t worry, pretty lady. We’ll keep you safe if your boy there can’t.”
“Thought she was captured in town, but then they sent a bunch of guys off after her,” the first soldier said, pointing to the south-east. “She’s not hard to follow, though.”
The second soldier chuckled. “Nah, all you have to do is follow the lightning. Our squad will be leaving in a hand.”
“Thank you,” Ka-bes said, trying to smile naturally. “That explains so much.”
“No problem,” the first soldier said. He grinned and winked at Ka-bes.
She put her elbow on the table, her left fist against her cheek, and whispered to Ja-ast, “We have to go.”
“But I’m hungry,” he said. “And there’s food here. Good food.”
“That’s her, the hedge wizard they’re following. It’s Sifa.”
“Got it.” Ja-ast shrugged. “So we’re supposed to starve? I’m not seeing the connection.”
“No, we have to go after her. We have to get to her before the army does.”
“We’ve got to eat,” he said, putting his hand on her forearm. “We’re not going to be any help for her if we’re fainting out of our saddles before we get to her. So, we’ll eat and figure out what we’re going to do next. I mean, she’s running. Any idea where she’s running to?”
Ka-bes bent toward the soldier and asked, “Where are you guys being sent?”
Destination
THE BRANCHES OF THE trees arched over the road, allowing only hints of the sunlight above to trickle down. The leaves swished back and forth in the breeze that carried the scent of flowers and pollen and sap. Birds chirped and sang and bugs buzzed and chittered. Thick bushes blocked the sides of the road like a wall of brambles.
Sifa hunched in the carriage’s seat, rubbing the palm of her right hand, feeling Ka-bes behind her. Her stomach growling from hunger, her mouth dry with thirst, she wondered what she should do, where she had gone wrong. The horse angled toward the high grasses by the road and Sifa flicked the reins to keep the animal going.
Shiyk’yath and Che-su lay in the back of the carriage, their breathing labored, their eyes closed. The bandage around Shiyk’yath’s stump was brown with dried blood, his eyes swollen closed. Che-su murmured in her sl
eep and Shiyk’yath moaned.
The stone in Sifa’s necklace grew bright and then dimmed as it had several times since leaving Mendenen.
A dark shape dropped into the seat beside her, tilting the cart to the side and dumping Sifa sideways into the shape. She gasped and pulled away.
A quick hand darted out and snatched the reins from her hand. A harsh voice whispered, “Keep them quiet back there or the Empress’s scouts will hear them.”
Sifa blinked her eyes. “Wu Cheen?”
“Shh.” He snapped his wrists, urging the horse to speed up as he pulled at the reins, angling the cart off the road into a gap between the bushes and trees she hadn’t seen.
“I’m so glad to see you.” She wrapped her arms around his. “I didn’t know where you’d gotten off to or if I was still on the right road. Where did you get those new boots? We need to—”
“Shh,” he said, glaring down at her, his face twisted with desperation. “Maegrith’s spiky beard, girl, has no one taught you the meaning of the word ‘quiet’?”
Sifa jerked back. The stone on her chest grew brighter. A harsh voice screamed from far away and Sifa jumped in the seat, staring at the canopy of leaves above her. Wings flapped, beating against the air—large wings. The sound grew louder and closer.
Wu Cheen stopped the horse and looked up. He put his arm around Sifa’s shoulders and she leaned into him, thinking he did so to calm her down, to protect her, until his hand slipped over her lips, muzzling her.
A shrill, inhuman voice spoke from above the trees. Sifa struggled to listen, to understand, but it was no language she’d ever heard before: a stream of whistles and clicks like the song of a bird, but formed into words and syllables.
The horse nickered and pawed at the leaves on the ground, nibbling on the grass beneath. Sifa’s gemstone flashed once more.
Another shrill voice, farther away, shrieked something, and the wings thrashed above them, their sound retreating.
Wu Cheen bent down and whispered in Sifa’s ear, “Harpies.”
“Oh,” she said, squeezing her hands together and staring up at the patches of blue sky above them. She gulped. “I don’t care for harpies.”
“Not even harpies care for harpies.” He snapped the reins, and the horse moved forward, the cart creaking behind them as branches snapped beneath the wheels, the noise of their passage now plain to Sifa’s ears.
Please, Maegrith, don’t let them hear us.
A tree sparkled with magic before them, its trunk huge. Its limbs dipped down, blocking their way. Wu Cheen ordered the horse to move forward directly into it.
“There’s a tree.” Sifa tugged at Wu Cheen’s sleeve and pointed at the tree, but he didn’t change direction. The horse trudged on, directly into the branches, and disappeared.
Sifa blinked and squinted, staring at the tree, studying it, tensing as it approached her, wincing away from it. The branch never touched her.
A veil lifted to reveal no tree, but a collection of huts around a central cookpot, the huts nothing but branches and leaves joined together to form small dwellings. A clear stream burbled next to the huts. A man knelt by the fire with blocks of wood in his hand and children by his side, their faces smudged with dirt and ash.
Away from the huts sat a shack and outside the shack stood a middle-aged woman, stout with muscle, her face deeply lined and caked with grime, her eyes mere slits. Wu Cheen banked the wagon in her direction, easing the reins back and drawing the wagon to a stop several steps away from the shack.
“Where are we?” Che-su propped herself up into a seated position with her elbows on the side of the wagon. She smacked her lips, panting for breath. “I need some water.”
“Shh,” Sifa said, reaching down and pulling out the canteen from beneath the driver’s bench and handing it back to Che-su; only a few drops remained.
The woman from the shack sauntered toward the wagon, wiping her hands on a white towel, but her eyes drifted upwards, watching the trees and the sky above them. Magic clung to the woman. A thick pillar of magic radiated upward from her shack, flowing skyward before falling back to the earth like water from a fountain, forming a dome around the huts.
Wu Cheen slid down from the driver’s bench and gestured with his thumb to the wagon. “These are the people I told you about, Lonyo. They’re beat up pretty bad and need your help.”
“Quit your yapping or you’ll draw every scout in Galnya down on us.” Lonyo stomped past Wu Cheen and lay her towel on the wagon’s side. Her hands were clean. She climbed up into the bed of the wagon and knelt by Shiyk’yath, her fingers touching his bruised face, the bandaged stub of his wrist, and then floating over his body from head to knee.
Then she turned to Che-su and gasped, withdrawing her hand. “Che-su?”
Che-su squinted, licking her lips and glaring at the woman, still holding the now-empty canteen loose in her fingers. “Do I know you?”
Lonyo reached out and touched Che-su’s neck, then withdrew her fingers as though scalded. “Diyune didn’t let you go, did he? Who freed you?”
Che-su inched away from the woman. “Who are you again?”
Lonyo looked up at the sky and then back over to Wu Cheen. “What exactly have you brought to my camp?”
“Who knows?” Wu Cheen shrugged. “Maybe freedom, maybe not.”
The woman scowled at Che-su. “The last time I saw you, you were wearing a collar. Who let you out?”
“I did,” Sifa said, drawing herself up and glaring at the woman.
Che-su’s hand shot out, grabbing Sifa’s arm and squeezing it.
Lonyo turned her dour attention to Sifa, studying her for the first time. Her eyes widened and she scrabbled away from Sifa, out the rear of the wagon and back onto the ground. “You have to get these people out of here!”
“You can’t send us away!” Sifa leapt down from the driver’s seat and darted to the back of the wagon, pleading. “We need help!”
Lonyo backed away from Sifa. “Nothing binds me to help someone simply because they need it.”
“But—” Sifa stomped toward her. Wu Cheen grabbed Sifa around the waist and pulled her back. Sifa pointed at the woman. “Common human decency should bind you to help those you can.”
“Common human decency?” Lonyo snorted and planted her fists on her hips. “Look around the world and find me these decent humans that are so common.” She raised her hand and swung it out, gesturing toward the shacks and hovels behind her. “My duty is to protect those I love and those I know, not strangers who will bring the wrath of the Empress down on us and kill us all—if we’re lucky.”
“She’ll stop looking for us soon enough,” Wu Cheen said, setting Sifa back on her feet.
Lonyo placed her hand on the top of Sifa’s head but with her attention on Wu Cheen, said, “She will not let one of Her special sacrifices get away. She will never stop looking.”
“Me?” Sifa blinked. “If I’m the problem, then what if we leave our wounded with you?”
Che-su said, “You are not leaving me anywhere.”
Shiyk’yath moaned and shifted in the bed of the cart, mumbling something. Che-su nodded and said, “Neither of us.”
Sifa threw up her hands and sighed.
“Listen,” Wu Cheen said to Lonyo. “How about a deal? You’ve got people who are still collared that you can’t bring into the group, right? Heal our wounded, and we’ll go there and free them.”
“No.” Lonyo gnawed on her lip and stared at Che-su and Shiyk’yath in the cart. “I want you all out of here now. I will heal them on the way.”
KA-BES CRAWLED THROUGH a dark tunnel. Her hands shook, the narrow walls and low ceiling seeming to close in on her, but she was drawn forward by the furtive tread of Ja’ast’s boots and his slow, calm breath.
A door creaked open, revealing an ornate bedchamber beyond, and dim light flooded into the tunnel. Ja’ast eased himself out of the tunnel, with Ka-bes scurrying out behind him.
She too
k a deep breath, closing her eyes, clasping her hands before her chest and silently thanking the god of fresh wind for his presence.
“Oh, come on,” Ja’ast whispered, grinning and hitting her with his elbow. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“Oh, yes, it was.” Ka-bes nodded her head, then made a show of looking around.
A four-poster bed with a lace canopy loomed out of the corner, closets along one side, and a desk against the wall by the door next to the fireplace. Paintings of anonymous priests and priestesses covered the walls.
“Where in the Nine Hells have you brought me?” she asked. “A brothel?”
Ja’ast touched one of the doors to the closet, pushing it further open, revealing the rich robes hanging there. “Looks like the rector’s bedroom. The tunnel must be an escape route.”
“I thought you were taking me to the dungeons!” Ka-bes said, grabbing Ja’ast’s arm and pulling him toward her and the questionable safety of the tunnel.
“That’s not what I said,” he said, shaking his finger at her. “I said it might be a tunnel into the dungeon. Lots of these older temples had them.”
Ka-bes’s hand flicked out, grabbing Ja’ast’s finger before he could retract it. “We have to find Sifa.”
Ja’ast twisted in Ka-bes's grip. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You have made that clear.”
She released his finger. “So what do we do now?”
“Some of these older temples have strange layouts,” he said, walking to the door, shaking his hand, “but we should be able to find the holding cells easily enough.”
He grabbed the handle to the door, but Ka-bes grabbed his arm. “You can’t just go marching out there! What if someone sees you?”
“Why don’t you think up a cover story for us?” He opened the door and pulled out of her grasp, stepping into a dimly lit hallway and looking both ways.
“And not a single one of you saw her leave?” a harsh voice asked, echoing down the hall along with the click-click of boot heels on stone.
“No,” a sobbing voice answered while others hemmed and hawed their agreement.
