Mairi glanced over at Odaman. His face was whiter than the snow on his shoulders. He had not uttered a word since entering the woods, and were it not for her, he would likely just sit in the snow. Was it even worth taking him to the river?
“You go,” she told Ally. “Even if we get him to the river, we’re not strong enough to tow him across and drag him out the other side. We will hide. Maybe they won’t find us.”
Ally stopped walking. She let go of Odaman’s arm. With the added weight, Mairi had no choice but let him sit in the snow. Ally regarded her with a questioning look. Arms folded, she said, “He’s been nothing but a pain in your backside, Mairi. Why are you risking your life for him?”
“Because they will kill him,” she said. “And I can’t leave him to die just to save myself. I’m sorry.” She waved a hand toward the river – which she still could not see. “You should go. Please, I want you to go. There’s no need for both of us to stay with him.”
“And why do you think they will spare him if you stay?”
“Because, for whatever it is they have planned for me, they will likely want my cooperation, and they will think threatening Odaman would be a way to get it.”
Ally raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?” she said.
In truth, Mairi had known all along. With all that had happened, all the death and turmoil, the attack on her carriage, what they had done to her guards; there was no reason why they should have kept Odaman alive. The king would not pay a ransom, he was not from a rich family, and, as Ally had pointed out, the man was an absolute pain in the backside. So why keep him around if not to use him to get to her?
And they were right to keep him, she thought, angry at her own weakness. Look at you. Ally is right, why risk your life for the man?
It was an intriguing question, and she did not have an answer, least not a simple one. She just knew she could not leave the man.
“Go,” she said again. “Head to Townhill, send a pigeon; let the palace know what has happened.”
Ally was shaking her. Not at a refusal to go to Townhill, Mairi knew, but more at her decision to stay with Odaman. For the longest time, she stared down at the secretary. He was a pathetic lump, rocking back and forth, his face buried in his hands. He looked like a frightened child. Ally made a disgusted noise in her throat. Clearly, she could not understand why anyone would give the man the time of day, never mind risk their life for him, and Mairi knew she could not explain.
Finally, Ally said, “Very well, I’ll send your message. Who do I address it—”
“Here! They’re down here!”
The cry came from a short way up the slope, barely twenty paces. It was followed by the sounds of snapping twigs and heavy-booted feet.
“Go!” Mairi urged. “Hurry, before they see which way you went.”
Ally readied herself to make a run for the river, then paused. The look she gave Mairi was both piteous and angry. She could not understand. Which was fine; Mairi was not sure she understood either.
“Evin Cesim,” Mairi told her. “Address the message to Evin Cesim.” She waved down the slope. “Now run.”
Ally gave her a sharp nod, then disappeared among the trees.
Mairi sat at Odaman’s side and waited for the inevitable.
* * *
Fa’rann sat by the fire. As big as the flames were, he still felt a chill. What was wrong with this body that he should feel cold all the time? The boy had brought food, but it remained on the small table next to his chair, untouched. He knew the body he had possessed was hungry, so why could he not force himself to swallow even a small bit of his supper?
“Maybe you need another body?” he whispered to himself.
It had been a long time since he had possessed a body, the last being a wolf, and before that, a Raekawn dragon. Was this how it always went? Did the body start to reject his presence? In truth, he had no idea; he had never stayed inside a vessel for more than a short span of days. But hungry or not, cold or not, he could not leave Lord Breen’s body. To do that would release all those he had brought to his side. He had to find a way to quieten Breen’s spirit. Even if it meant enduring more than hunger and cold, he had to wait. Maybe when the throne was his, and he no longer needed to control so many mercenaries, maybe then he could find the strength to remain in this body.
Growling, Fa’rann cursed himself for thinking such things. Breen was only a weak-minded human. Yes, he could feel him tugging at the back of his mind, but he should give up his pointless fight. Then, he could eat and feel the warmth of the fire. Yes, sooner or later Breen would quieten down. And if he did not…
And if he does not, you will force him, he told himself. For how are you to defeat the others if you cannot control a lowly human?
A knock at the door wrenched Fa’rann from his self-pity.
“Who is it?” Fa’rann croaked.
The door opened, and Bayon entered. He looked apprehensive. What had gone wrong now?
Bayon cleared his throat. “Re’adh and the secretary are safely locked in the cellar, sir. But… err… the guards, they lost the Toyan woman, sir.”
Fa’rann fought the urge to rip Bayon’s throat out. A flash of red darted across his vision, and he had to clench his fist, remembering he no longer had claws – such a useless body. Really, was all this worth it? King or not, living as a mere human was more than humiliating.
“I thought you said you sent six men?” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “How did six men lose an unarmed woman?”
“I-I’m not sure of the details, sir. Captain Farrier said she summoned the wind. He spoke of a great flurry of snow and dreadful cold. They lost three of their horses, sir. One man has a broken leg from a fall, and another—”
“Yes, yes, never mind all that. What’s this about summoning wind? Are they sure?” Fa’rann said.
If true, that was an interesting turn of events. He had thought the Toyan had the Earthen Voice – a worthy vessel, should he be forced to abandon Breen’s body – but if she had the Sky Voice, too… With his innate Spirit Voice, should he take her as a vessel, a simple Rainstone shard would complete the set. With all four Voices, he could take care of Ash’mael on his own terms – he would have no need of the Cinné’arth. With that prospect, it would almost be worth abandoning his plans.
No, you have come too far. Maybe when you have rid yourself of Vierdan.
“I want her found,” he told Bayon. “Wake up every man with a horse and have them search the fields south of the river. Everyman, you hear me? Leave only enough guards to watch the gate.”
Bayon swallowed. Eyes on his feet, he said, “Do you think that wise, sir? What of what the legite told us? If Re’adh comes for his wife while the guards are south of the river…”
“I am aware of what the young fool said, Bayon. I also recall him saying there were only six travellers.”
“But the dragons, sir, what if—”
“The dragons will not attack,” Fa’rann said. He felt Breen’s lip curl into a grin. “There is a treaty, and if I know dragons at all, they will not break their word.” He could not help laughing at the thought. Just how stupid were the Gan?
“As you say, sir. Would you like me to bring the Re’adh woman to you?”
Fa’rann pondered the thought. Just what was the Re’adh boy up to? Would his mother know anything? Likely not, but it was past time they met. Maybe she had a touch of the Power. If that were so, she might at least know where Bausamon’s pawn had been these past weeks, and maybe she knew if Sek had taken him anywhere, if he had travelled beyond Atria.
“Yes, bring her to me. But after you have seen to the search. Find that woman, Bayon. And make sure the men know not to harm her.”
Bayon bowed deeply. Then, walking backwards, he closed the door behind him.
Fa’rann huddled on his padded armchair. The fool serving man had let the heat out of the room. Poking a hand out from under his cloak, he threw anothe
r log onto the fire. It would not do any good, but what else could he do? Scowling at the fire, he wondered again whether possessing the Toyan might not be the better plan.
“Not yet,” he whispered. “At least rid yourself of the king. Do that, and maybe you can force this damned body to follow your will.”
CHAPTER 32
The Hour Before
“Is it safe?” Gyna asked.
Daric patted the lining of his cloak. “Safe as I can make it. I’ll be fine if they only search my pockets.”
Gyna frowned. “And are they likely to do that?”
“No,” Daric admitted. “But it’s small; they would have to know where to look.”
Gyna nodded. She seemed satisfied with his answer, but still not particularly happy with the plan. Daric could not blame her; too many things could go wrong, and he hated relying on luck, especially when the stakes were so high.
They were standing in the mouth of the cave, waiting on Gaiden and Ishban – who had decided they needed breakfast before they set off. Aleria and Brin were waiting by the fire, and Cal was outside, leaning against a tree, sharpening his boot knife. Daric had no doubt Breen’s men would find that blade. But then that was the point; they would be suspicious if they found nothing – Daric’s own boot blade was safely tucked away, and he had another under his belt. With any luck, Breen’s men would find them and not look too closely at the lining of his cloak. It was a risk, and Daric did not like it, but it was all they had. Not for the first time, he hoped Gaiden’s plan would work, and he would not have to count too heavily on chance.
“I’d feel better if I were coming with you,” Gyna said.
“As would I,” Daric said. “But if this is going to work, someone has to stay behind, and you’re the only one I trust.”
Gyna raised one eyebrow. “Aleria could do it. You trust her, don’t you?”
Daric tried not to laugh. Grinning, he said, “I trust her heart is in the right place, but she is no soldier.”
Gyna returned the grin with interest. “It may have escaped your attention, Daric, but I am a witch, not a soldier.”
“True, but you act like a soldier. I can trust what comes out of your mouth is what you believe and not just what little you think I should know.”
Gyna snickered at that. In her huge frame, it sounded like barrels rolling down a ladder. “You really do not know witches, do you? Remind me to take you to the Blue Tower on of these days,” she said, smiling. “But I appreciate your confidence. I will be ready.”
Daric nodded. “That’s all I can ask. Thank you.”
To the east, the sun was almost its own height above the trees. The sky was the pale blue of early winter. It was cold, and the snow was sealed with a layer of frost. They would have to go along the road.
Daric had hoped they could cut across the fields, but without horses, that way would take too long. He wanted to be finished at the manor well before the wagons which usually arrived around noon. There would be more men in those wagons, and the courtyard would be busy. Not a good time for a parlay with His Lordship – there would be too many curious eyes watching them.
At least that was the plan, but if Gaiden and Ishban did not hurry up, they would be lucky to hit the road before lunch.
As if hearing his thoughts, Cal said, “Are they ready yet? We should be off.” He made his question loud enough for all in the cave to hear.
“We are ready,” Gaiden said. “Just allow an old wolf a swift visit to the thicket.”
With that proclamation, the others gathered their things.
They were an odd bunch. Aleria and Brin representing the Oracles, Ranyr the Ulroch priest, Cal the woodsman, Yacob and Mags the two remaining legites – the other two were up in the hideout – Ishban and Gaiden of the Rukin; all they needed was a Salrian, and they would have all the major races of Moyathair in one group. Absently, Daric wondered what Si’eth was up to, and whether he had left the Southern Isles.
That thought did not last long.
“Would you lead the way?” Aleria said.
Daric nodded, and with Cal by his side, they headed off toward the Townhill road.
* * *
The march through the clearing was uneventful, but they had barely reached the narrow field they must cross to join the road when Gaiden started talking.
“What were you and the Ulroch woman talking about?” he said.
“Nothing,” Daric lied. “Just discussing palace business.”
Unsurprisingly, the wolf did not look convinced by the lie. “It’s just, I am curious as to why she is not with us. An Ulroch witch in our group would go a long way toward convincing Lord Breen to accept our proposal.”
“We have an Ulroch,” Daric reminded him. “Ranyr is a priest, he will do well enough.”
“Yes, but he is not one of the Twelve. If you wanted to leave someone behind, better you had left Ranyr.”
“Gyna is doing something for me. It is just a precaution, it will not change our plan.”
“If you have other irons in the fire, Daric, you should share. This negotiation will be tricky enough, we do not need surprises.”
Daric stepped closer to the wolf. “I understand that, but we have already had one legite turn traitor on us. And as I say, what Gyna is doing will not affect your plan. You will have to trust me, and accept my word that I would have told you if there was time. Really, you need not worry.”
“Hmm,” Gaiden said. “I will accept your word, but I do not like it. If the opportunity arises, I would hear of this… task you have seen fit to give the Ulroch. Not because I am a nosey old wolf, you understand? I may be able to help.”
“I know that. There just wasn’t time.”
“Very well, we will talk no more of it. But if you are going to do something drastic, at least try and give me some warning. We are going to need more than luck if we are to pull this off.”
“I will. I promise.”
“Making promises?” Aleria said.
Daric winced; he had said the last too loudly.
“It’s nothing. Gaiden was just wishing me luck.”
Aleria caught up. When she had matched his pace, she said, “Yes, I fear we are all going to need a little luck. I must say, I would not have taken this approach. Better had we come from a position of strength.”
They had not told her most of the Rukin were in Crenach guarding the canyon, and in turn, she had not fully agreed that just asking for the prisoners would work. “More likely to give Breen more hostages,” she had said. But Gaiden had convinced her his plan was worth a try. Still, she was clearly unhappy at not having a few hundred wolves at her back, and less so, that Gaiden’s plan did not include the Tandrian blade. “You must destroy the creature and return Whitecliff to the Balance,” she had told Daric, more than once. In return, Daric had reminded her of his own priority: to see Mairi safely away from the manor.
“We must work with the tools we have,” Daric told her. “Breen can read between the line; he will understand the significance of Gaiden’s presence. And we have Ranyr and Cal, he will have no doubt over the cost of refusing our request.”
“And the dagger?” Aleria said. “Do you at least have it with you?”
Daric tried not to sigh at the question – the woman was nothing if not persistent. Instead, he nodded.
“Perhaps you should let me hold it. They are less likely to search an old woman.”
Daric laughed. “When was the last time anyone described you as an old woman? You look barely five years older than me.”
For a wonder, Aleria smiled at that. “Thank you, Daric, that was good of you to say, but we both know it is not true. Still, I am a woman, and you know what men are like; they are less likely to look in… certain places.”
Daric felt a blush creep up his neck. Of all people, he had not expected Aleria to suggest such a thing. “Thank you for the offer, but no. You will have to trust me; the blade is quite safe.” He smiled back at her, and tried not to pat
the lining of his cloak.
Aleria glanced up at him, then gave a short nod. Sighing, she said, “If you are sure. But if you change your mind, tell me before we reach the road.”
“I’ll bear that in mind.”
“Speaking of plans, have you agreed on a signal for the dragons, should we need to get out in a hurry?”
“Lyduk is at the lookout with what is left of the legites. Ban should be in position south of the Townhill road. If there’s trouble, one of them should raise the alarm.”
“Pity we could not just bring them along,” Aleria said.
“They’re watching. If we need them, they’ll be there.”
“Yes, but our hand would have been strengthened had we arrived on the back of a dragon.”
“I’ve said this before, Breen will know about the treaty, and dragons fly up and down the river all the time, he will not be impressed. Better if they are keeping an eye on us.”
“I suppose,” Aleria said. “Still, I would have felt better had they come with us.”
“As would I. But we don’t know what is happening at the manor, best we keep something in reserve. And as Gaiden said, we don’t want to put them on the back foot. I expect – I hope – we will walk out of there with my wife and other hostages safely in our hands; had the dragons come, I don’t think His Lordship would have come out long enough to listen to our plea.”
Aleria shrugged. “Again, I suppose you are right.” She pointed at a gap in the hedge. “We are almost at the road, are you sure you don’t want me to take the blade?”
“I’m sure,” Daric said. “Believe me, it is quite safe.”
* * *
The young man was close to death. Mairi had tried to clean his wounds, make him comfortable, but thus far, he had not so much as opened his eyes.
“You should let him rest,” Odaman said. “Or at least stop talking to him. It is obvious he cannot hear you.”
“Am I bothering you?” Mairi said. “Would you rather I was quiet?”
During their first four hours in the cellar, Odaman had not uttered a word. Then, as if waking from a restful sleep, he had started complaining about the conditions, just as if nothing had happened. Had he not remembered she had sacrificed her freedom to stay with him?
The Ship of Tears_The Legend of the Nine_Part One Page 37
