The Traitor and the Chalice

by Jane Fletcher

  “Surely the closeness to where Lorimal did her work isn’t a coincidence.”

  “It’s not. This plant only grows on the southern slopes of the Barrodens. Elsewhere, you have to get it dried. It’s known by a number of local names. The least romantic is ‘stinking dog-root.’ I assume fragrance isn’t its greatest charm. Several sorcerers claim that the fresh berries have unusual properties, but they’re lost when the plant is dried, so they haven’t been thoroughly investigated. To tell the truth, nobody is certain what potential these berries have. It’s the sort of thing an ambitious young sorcerer would study, given the chance. Lorimal invented her spell while she had access to fresh berries. If they’re used in the spell, it would explain why Levannue had to go to the same region to repeat the work.”

  “You say if. Do you have any firm evidence?”

  “Two things.” Jemeryl counted on her fingers. “One, Levannue’s arrival in Corrisburn would have coincided with the fruiting season in early autumn. Two—and this is the clincher—while I was working with her, I noticed she was growing some potted plants. I checked this morning. It’s the dog-root.”

  “Then why would she need to go to the Barrodens?”

  “They were weak, stunted specimens. It isn’t a tropical plant and wouldn’t reach its full potency here. Probably no more than to confirm that the spell would work.”

  Tevi nodded slowly. “Can the Coven guard the entire area where this plant grows?”

  “People may not realise they have to. I don’t know if the Guardian will pick up on the dog-root. We can be certain Bramell won’t. The only ingredient Iralin knew about was the orchid nectar, because Lorimal needed special requisitions for it while she was experimenting. If Lyremouth gets their supplies of dog-root from a different town, they might not even make the link. So we’ve got to catch Levannue ourselves.”

  “How can we cover the entire mountain range?”

  “No need. Levannue won’t dare visit any spot along the Barrodens that’s under Coven control. Every witch and sorcerer is on the lookout for her. And since the northern border has been prone to attack, the Coven has it heavily guarded, even at quiet times. There’s only one place outside the Protectorate where she can get the dog-root: Horzt. That’s where we’ll wait for her.”

  “It could be another trap.”

  “I don’t think so. Levannue can make mistakes. Like when she fled, rather than overpowering you at the gates. She could have taken the warrant and lied to Bramell about it.”

  “Pretending to flee might be part of her plan.”

  “From what she’d said to me beforehand, I’m sure she assumed that you were the messenger for a powerful group of sorcerers. How else could you have known that something had happened to me? She can’t have realised that she effectively sent the signal herself. My link to Klara had been weak through the school shields, and Levannue didn’t know about her. So when she ensnared me, the bond was severed, and Klara was just an ordinary magpie again.”

  Tevi felt her throat tighten. “When she pecked me, I thought you were dead.”

  “Yes, well, killing me would have the same effect as far as Klara’s concerned.”

  Jemeryl’s light-hearted tone only intensified Tevi’s fears. “We don’t need to chase her ourselves. We should tell the Guardian where you think Levannue’s going. It would be safer.”

  “There isn’t time to get a message to Lyremouth. We’ll have to move sharply ourselves to be sure of reaching Horzt before her.”

  “What will Neame say?”

  “She’ll say I’m not well enough. So we won’t tell her.”

  “Might not Neame be right?”

  “Levannue has to be stopped. I know I’m not fully recovered, but I’m still the strongest worker in the sixth dimension left here.”

  Tevi frowned but said nothing.

  Jemeryl studied her expression. “Don’t you want to go after Levannue?”

  “Oh, yes.” Tevi took a deep breath. “And it’s not just the quest. I’ll never forgive that she tried to murder you, but it’s going to be dangerous tackling Levannue on our own. Especially if she’s just acquired a new weapon.”

  “It’ll come sooner or later. I’m sworn to die defending the Protectorate, if need be. A surprise attack before she’s mastered the spell might be my best chance.” There was no humour in Jemeryl’s voice, but then her grin returned. “Anyway, it’s vital that we leave Ekranos soon.”

  “Why?”

  “Probably a sign that I’m getting better, but it’s starting to get to me that they won’t let you share my room.”

  *

  The road cut a diagonal slash up the side of the gorge. Tufts of grass sprouted on the central ridge between two deep ruts marking the passage of carts. Rain had scored fernlike patterns in the dust. On one side, pines overhung the trail and purple heather clung to exposed rocks. On the other, the slope dropped so steeply that the tops of tall trees were at eye level with the riders on the road.

  Tevi stopped her horse by the edge and looked down. Far below, the river Danor thundered through the ravine. Her eyes scanned along the trail. Apart from songbirds, the only activity was the first wagon rounding the bend several hundred yards back. A second team came into view. Tevi spurred her horse on to catch up with the other two mercenaries in the caravan’s vanguard.

  After half a mile, the gradient eased. The roar of water grew close and then softened. They rounded another bend, and abruptly, the valley fell away. Ahead lay a wide basin, hollowed in the mountains. The rim was a circle of wooded slopes broken by scree, leading up to bare mountaintops.

  Miles away, a tumulus erupted from the basin floor, covered with buildings and surrounded by a high stone wall. The mercenaries stopped their horses by a patch of meadow, and the eldest pointed to the distant town.

  “That’s Horzt. We’ll be there by evening. Beyond is the high pass—if you’ve changed your mind.”

  “I haven’t.” Tevi’s tone was polite but obstinate.

  “I’m sure the caravan master will have no trouble replacing you,” the older mercenary said sourly. He indicated the stretch of grass. “We’ll stop for one last break.”

  Tevi swung a leg over her horse’s rump and dropped to the ground. She climbed to the top of a bank to view the terrain. In the distance, Horzt was a confused mound of walls and towers. The river Danor threw a loop around its base before winding through swaths of farmland dotted with small hamlets. The water flowed over shingle as it eventually passed the slope where Tevi stood.

  The Danor had carved the only wagon route through the Barrodens east of Whitfell Spur. Barges navigated the river as far as Gossenfeld, which was also the boundary of the Protectorate. From there, Tevi had taken a guard’s contract on a caravan to Horzt. Part of her salary paid for Jemeryl’s place on a wagon, since the sorcerer was disguised. Even Tevi was using a false name. She suspected that Jemeryl was enjoying the game, but personally, she thought it an unnecessary strain.

  The wagons began to arrive. The creek of axles and shouts of drivers broke the peace. A few passengers emerged, yawning and stretching cramped muscles. Traders clambered over the loads, pulling on ropes. More wagons arrived, and suddenly, travellers sprang from everywhere.

  Tevi trotted across to one of the covered wagons. She pulled back the awning. All the passengers had left except for a withered crone. Ancient eyes blinked in the light. Etched lips puckered on toothless gums. One knotted hand gripped a walking stick; the other hugged a wicker cage containing a sorry-looking magpie.

  “Is that you, Laniss?” the ancient voice quavered.

  “I’ve come to help you down, Gran.” Tevi spoke loudly, as if addressing the deaf.

  “Are we there yet?”

  “Nearly. You can see Horzt.”

  Tevi assisted the old woman to a spot where they could view the town and, more important, not be overheard.

  “Are you sure this disguise is worth it?” Tevi asked wearily.

  “Yes,
I am.” Jemeryl spoke with her own voice. “Levannue may scry the town before showing her face. Even disguised like this, I’ll need to keep a low profile, but all she’ll have on you is a name.”

  “If it’s so risky, won’t she avoid the town altogether?”

  “She has no choice. The dog-root doesn’t grow profusely this far east, and it’s usually in awkward places. Levannue isn’t young. She’s not up to rock climbing, and enthralling people won’t help, as they’d be too clumsy to do much apart from fall down cliffs.”

  “Who normally harvests the dog-root?”

  “It’s too rare around here to do it commercially. Herdsmen gather the odd sprig if they spot it and trade to the alchemists in Horzt. Which is where Levannue will have to go to buy it in quantity.”

  The magpie gave a pathetic croak. Tevi held the cage at eye level. “Klara’s not enjoying this. I’d be happier without it as well. I’m no good at acting.”

  A bell sounded the signal for the midday meal. Tevi offered Jemeryl her arm for the walk to the food wagon. She tried to take comfort that the worst of the acting would be over when they reached Horzt and were no longer in close contact with fellow travellers.

  “Think of this disguise as a rare opportunity.” Jemeryl’s voice reverted to the elderly quaver.

  “For what?”

  “It gives you the chance to work out if you’ll still love me when I’m old and wrinkly.”

  Tevi snorted derisively, but the corners of her mouth twitched in a smile. “I’ll let you know.”

  *

  A rolling blanket of grey hung above Horzt, hiding the mountaintops. Light rain blew in clouds of mist over the city walls and fell as a persistent drizzle in the narrow streets, running down walls and dripping off lintels. Everywhere smelt sour of damp stone.

  The road split just inside the city gates. The lanes fanned out through the packed mass of houses that clung to the sides of the tumulus. Wet cobbles glistened with an oily sheen. Small torrents cascaded over wedged dams of rubbish in the gutters. More water flowed from passageways where worn steps scaled the hillside between featureless walls.

  Tevi stood in the shelter of one such alley, not that it offered much protection. She made another futile attempt to adjust her militia-issue cloak so that the water running off her militia-issue helmet did not drip down her neck, while again cursing the militia authorities for issuing the poorly designed uniform.

  Tevi had joined the militia on her arrival in Horzt. Although the town was outside the Protectorate, well over half its militia bore red and gold tattoos of the mercenaries. There was even a guild house in the town. The disguise was good for watching every traveller who entered. Yet nearly a month had passed without sign of Levannue. Jemeryl still spoke confidently, but Tevi knew she was starting to worry.

  From the alley, Tevi had a clear view of traffic through the gates. The people wisely did their utmost to avoid attracting her attention. She was off duty, but the passers-by were not to know. The Horzt militia were notorious for their ready use of fines, stocks, and the whipping post. It gave Tevi mixed feelings. She was in favour of lawful behaviour but did not enjoy playing the bully.

  The clouds began to break up, although a moist wind still gusted under the gatehouse. The outline of the sun appeared briefly before dark tendrils obscured it again. A last burst of rain splattered the ground. Tevi dislodged a row of drips from her helmet’s eye guard and then froze at the sound of an urgent metallic beat: three taps, a rest, one tap, and then two taps. The sequence repeated.

  The helmet made it hard to locate the source of the drumming. Tevi looked all around. Then she looked up. Klara was perched on a rusted bar sticking from the wall a few feet above her head. Raindrops rolled like diamonds off her stark plumage. The magpie’s head bobbed, again beating out the signal, but Tevi did not wait for confirmation. She spun around and leapt up the stairway. Puddles splattered explosively under the impact of her feet. She took the last flight three steps at a time.

  Tevi burst onto the street above and raced past shops stacked with barrels, dried meat, and cheese. A thin band of grey sky snaked overhead between the roofs. Civilians melted from her path. A stout trader stumbled as he flattened himself against a wall. Running militia meant trouble.

  The streets flew by. Tevi ducked into a crooked alley that twisted behind shops. Around a bend, she collided with a handcart. The porter mumbled a confused apology. Tevi squeezed by. Her cloak scratched on the stone wall, and her jerkin became drenched as it wiped along the cart. The material flapped cold against her stomach as she ran on.

  Another bend hid the cart from view. Tevi slowed to the purposeful stride of a routine patrol while fighting to steady her breathing. She rounded the last corner and emerged into a small square.

  Technically, the shape was more a bent triangle, formed where five roads met. A drinking fountain shaped like a lion’s head spewed water into a basin at one end. Tevi halted by it and looked up at her destination: the steep road known as Abrak’s Alley. Here charm sellers, alchemists, and healers plied their trades. The street seemed to revel in an arcane sleaziness. The gradient was so steep that steps were provided for pedestrians.

  Tevi leaned against the wall by the fountain and folded her arms as if waiting for trouble, adopting a typical militia pose. A group of drunken barbarians quietened instantly. Tevi hardly noticed them. Klara was the one she wanted.

  A dilapidated inn filled one side of the square. Its tottering facade bore witness to a history of modification. Tevi did not bother looking for Jemeryl at the window to their room, with an unobstructed view up Abrak’s Alley. Levannue was about. Jemeryl would not be so stupid as to stand where she could be seen—on any plane of existence. Instead, she would use Klara’s coded signals to identify the traitor.

  A simple physical description was useless, as demonstrated by Jemeryl’s own disguise. Levannue could be anyone: the gap-toothed street urchin darting past; the rich trader sauntering by, until the edge was taken off her swagger by Tevi’s attention; the lounging whore whose clothing, or lack of it, left no doubt of his profession. He noticed Tevi watching and smiled coyly; the militia were good customers. Tevi’s eyes swept on. Still, Klara did not arrive.

  The minutes passed while Tevi’s anxiety grew. People flowed in and out of the square. Already, Levannue might be leaving with her purchase complete. Jemeryl had been sure that Klara would go undetected, but something was wrong.

  Tevi pushed away from the wall. Her first impulse was to rush into the inn. She forced herself to stop and think. In all honesty, if Levannue had discovered Jemeryl, there was nothing Tevi could do. It was better to be optimistic. Klara’s signal meant that Jemeryl had spotted Levannue. The place to look was in the alchemists’ shops. Maybe Klara was waiting farther up the street. Tevi turned her back on the inn and started to climb the uneven cobbles.

  The first alchemist’s shop was a cavelike opening lined with ramshackle wooden shelves stretching back into darkness. The ceiling was an upside-down forest of herbs hanging from the rafters. Tevi glanced in. The bandy-legged owner was smiling benignly at two potential customers who were examining a small bag. Tevi noted their hawkish features and dark, knotted hair. She recognised them as traders travelling with a mule train from the eastern reaches. It’s one useful thing to do, she told herself. Remember who’s here. Then Jemeryl can describe Levannue’s current appearance so I can identify her.

  Tevi continued the climb. People slid away from her belligerent gaze. A dozen yards farther on, she passed another alchemist’s, identical to the first. Only one customer was lost in the gloom at the rear, and shrouded by a voluminous grey cloak.

  The rhythm of Tevi’s stride did not falter, but she could have laughed. The customer was Levannue; her posture said it all. The whole stance, from rigid neck to shuffling feet, shouted fear and guilt. If the customs officers of Ekranos had seen a captain stand like that, they would have torn the ship apart plank by plank.

  At the top o
f the street, Tevi stopped and looked back. Rooftops fell away before her, stretching down to the city walls. On the fields beyond, over a hundred wagons were camped in a temporary city. Tents wove rivers of canvas along muddy trackways. Herds of lumbering carthorses filled the water meadows. Farther away still were farmlands and mountains.

  Tevi’s gaze returned to the street. The woman in grey scurried from the shop, clutching her purchase. Tevi caught a glimpse of the traitor’s disguise. Levannue had chosen a face so lacking in distinctive features as to defy description. Once seen, instantly forgotten. But the way she moved! Short, desperate steps revealed tension in the knees. Tevi could have picked her out of a crowd at a hundred yards.

  Tevi strode after the retreating figure but hesitated outside the inn, tormented by the urge to go and check that Jemeryl was all right. The shutters were half open on the window to their room, just as she had left them that morning. Surely there would be some sign if Jemeryl had been attacked.

  Tevi bit her lip. She dare not waste time. After her month in the militia, she knew every alleyway and shortcut in Horzt. It would take all this knowledge to shadow Levannue without attracting suspicion, although the militia uniform would help. The militia were expected to be everywhere, asking questions. Tevi had lots of questions to ask. She threw one last pleading look at the window before setting off. The hunt was now on in earnest.

  *

  Darkness had fallen by the time Tevi returned to the inn. No moonlight penetrated the unbroken sheet of cloud, yet few were deterred from venturing forth. Shouts and laughter echoed along the ill-lit streets. They were high points over the continuous chaotic background hum of Horzt by night, the sound of eager people in search of pleasure. At times over the previous month, Tevi had been reminded of Torhaven. Horzt was also a frontier town outside the Protectorate. However, the differences were equally strong, and the nightlife was, if not completely harmless, at least mainly devoid of malice.