The Traitor and the Chalice
Page 23
From behind a dense bush, she surveyed the scene. A simple tent was strung between two trees. A horse was grazing upstream, and a trickle of smoke wafted into the air from a campfire. There was no other sign of life and nothing to explain Tevi’s certainty that this camp was the centre of the summons that had ensnared her. She eased back, about to slip away, when a harsh voice spoke.
“You could just walk down to the camp.”
Tevi spun about, half-drawing her sword even as she recognised the voice.
A magpie was perched on her horse’s rump, head cocked to one side. Klara continued speaking. “You’ll have to excuse Jem for not rushing out to greet you, but she’s very tired. She’s been calling you for days.”
*
Ripples of flame chased over the logs. Tevi snapped another branch in half and fed it to the campfire. A light breeze fanned veins of red through the ash and wafted a rich aroma of stew that made Tevi’s stomach growl. She gave the pot another unnecessary stir before settling back.
The dark mass of the hillside rose opposite. Its top was fringed with trees. Clouds were rolling in from the south, swallowing the stars, but for now, the moon floated clear, pure, and cold against the black sky.
The new wood crackled as sap exploded under the bark. Other sounds came from farther off—a snort from a horse and the undulating gurgle of the brook. Tevi felt at peace, especially since Klara was patrolling the treetops.
Tevi shifted so she could see inside the tent. Firelight rippled over Jemeryl’s sleeping form in dull reds and warm shadows. The sight held Tevi a long time, watching.
It was obvious that the sorcerer had scarcely slept in all the time they had been apart. On Tevi’s arrival, Jemeryl had staggered from the tent, clung to Tevi like she never meant to let go, sobbed, “I’m so pleased you’re here,” and fallen asleep on her feet. The food was ready, but despite her own hunger, Tevi was happy to wait until her lover woke.
Eventually, Jemeryl stirred. She rolled over, and her eyelids flickered. “What time is it?”
“Late.”
“Is dinner cooked?”
“It was ready ages ago.”
“Was?” Jemeryl levered herself up. “Have you scoffed the lot?”
“I was very tempted.”
Jemeryl shuffled out of the tent, dragging a blanket behind her more by chance than design. She burrowed into Tevi’s arms in an emotional, although clumsy, embrace. Her lips steered towards Tevi’s as she mumbled, “I didn’t say hello properly before.”
The kiss that followed was also slightly uncoordinated, but Tevi was not complaining. Her stomach, however, was not so patient.
Tevi broke off at the rumbling. “I’d better serve up the food.”
Jemeryl gave Tevi one last hug and then sat by the fire looking dazed. Her eyes stared blankly, and her hair was even more dishevelled than normal. Tevi smiled as she handed over a bowl of the stew. For a while, they ate in silence, sitting side by side with the blanket draped around their shoulders. The night air was chill, and Jemeryl shivered as she put aside her empty bowl.
“Are you all right?” Tevi asked, concerned.
“I will be. I simply got overtired.” Jemeryl rested her head on Tevi’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t turn down another bowlful. Why don’t you tell me what’s been happening to you? My mind’s working, it’s just my body hasn’t woken up yet.”
By the time Tevi finished the story of her capture and escape, the clouds had completed their advance and cloaked the moon. The firelight cavorted demonically now that it had no rival. The stew was finished, and the empty pot stood to one side. Tevi concluded with a brief description of her entranced arrival at the camp.
“I’ve wondered what it’s like to be caught in a spell.” Tevi’s face held a bemused frown. “It was odd. I knew something was up, but I couldn’t be bothered to work out what.”
“I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t want to ensnare you, but I didn’t know how else to get you here. I was terrified you’d walk into the hornets’ nest I’ve stirred up in Horzt.”
“Hornets? What did you do?”
“At first, I sat and waited. By midmorning, I was convinced you’d been caught by Levannue. So I dropped the old crone disguise and went looking. It set off the mayor’s wards, and some people started acting very silly. No one would tell me anything. In the end, I’m afraid I lost my temper.” Jemeryl stared into the dancing flames. “In the Protectorate, you lose sight of what you can do if you want. Of how vulnerable the ungifted are.”
“Did you hurt anyone?”
“Not seriously. The only real casualty was the mayor’s dignity. I suspended him upside-down over a cesspit and threatened to drop him. He blabbed everything, but by then, you were too far away.” Jemeryl shrugged. “So I dropped him anyway. Then I thought it would be tactful to leave town. I didn’t want a confrontation with the militia.”
“I doubt they’d have fought you. Most are guild mercenaries, so they’re sworn to obey Coven sorcerers, and I’ll bet even the non-guild militia appreciated what you did to the mayor.”
“It’s true that nobody risked their neck coming to his aid, but I couldn’t count on it lasting. With rumours of a renegade sorcerer going about, it only needed someone to take the initiative and things could have got nasty.”
“Could they have hurt you?”
“Unlikely, but they might have forced me to hurt them. Oaths go both ways. I’m sworn to defend Protectorate citizens. So I came up here. I guessed they wouldn’t chase me once I left town, but I was worried about you.”
“It could have been unpleasant if the mayor got his hands on me. I suspect he’s the sort of person who holds grudges.”
“Which is why I haven’t dared sleep. I didn’t know when you’d escape or whether you’d arrive by day or night.”
“You knew I’d escape?”
“I had faith in you.” Jemeryl caught one of Tevi’s hands. “And no matter how faint the chance you’d return, I couldn’t take the risk of your getting caught.”
“So Levannue’s plan worked. She managed to pin us down and get away.”
Jemeryl hesitated before saying, “I don’t think Levannue had anything to do with your arrest.”
“She must have. Who else is going to send a false warrant?”
“I’m not sure it was false. Your captors had been warned of your strength. Levannue wouldn’t know about that.” Jemeryl pursed her lips. “After we left Ekranos, there weren’t enough sorcerers to send a message by magic, so Neame needed to find a ship bound for Lyremouth, which would take a month to arrive. A few more days for the Guardian to make a decision and the pigeon to get to Gossenfeld. If you add the dates up, it ties in with when the warrant arrived.”
“But why?”
“Levannue fell for the lure of this spell. With me absconding from Ekranos, people might be worried that I’ve found out what the spell does and have given in to temptation as well. I might be about to swipe the chalice from Levannue and set off on my own. Perhaps the Guardian wanted to find out what was going on and whether it’s one or two traitors they have to deal with.”
“But taking me prisoner stopped you from catching Levannue. Either way, they’d have been better leaving you alone. If you were loyal, it was insane to distract you. And even if you weren’t, after you and Levannue had fought for the chalice, they’d be back to just one traitor again.”
“I don’t think they’d have done the sums that way, and for the very same reason that Levannue wouldn’t have used you as a decoy.” Jemeryl raised her hand and guided Tevi’s face so that their eyes met. “It would never have occurred to either the Guardian or Levannue that I’d stop doing something important for the sake of one ungifted mercenary. I’m afraid, my love, they wouldn’t believe that I’d think so much of you.”
“The Guardian knew we were lovers.”
“And I’ll bet she’s certain I’ve tired of you by now. Brief affairs are rare enough between sorcerers and the ungifted;
long relationships are unheard of. The Guardian would reckon that if I’d turned traitor, I’d be using you, so arresting you deprived me of a servant, and if I was still loyal, she’d be doing me a favour by taking you off my hands.” Jemeryl’s hands slipped around Tevi and held her tight. “Very few sorcerers have any real regard for the ungifted. Our oaths to protect them are just the glue that holds the Coven together. This time last year, I felt the same. I saw the ungifted as pawns a sorcerer uses when playing for status.” Jemeryl’s words were murmured into Tevi’s shoulder. “Between Neame and you, I’ve learnt an awful lot.”
A series of emotions chased through Tevi’s head. Her eyes caught sight of the tattoos on her hands. “Does this mean we’ll be in trouble when we get back to Lyremouth?”
“They can’t blame you. You acted in good faith. If we return with the chalice and Levannue as prisoner, they’ll forgive us everything.”
“That’s a big ‘if.’ She could be anywhere.”
“We can still catch her. Don’t overestimate her abilities. Magic removes some physical restrictions, but she’s still an old woman. Even sorcerers don’t find flying a practical mode of transport. I think she’ll stick to caravans.”
“She may have swapped route. According to the traders in Horzt, there’s a campsite at the other side of the pass where people can change caravans.”
“Then we need to pick up her trail there.” Jemeryl looked thoughtful and then sighed. “Of course, she might be stopped just north of the pass, using Lorimal’s spell to create an army of hideous monsters ready to sweep down on the Protectorate.”
“In which case she won’t be hard to locate.”
Jemeryl laughed and snuggled back against Tevi. “I guess there would be that advantage.”
Tevi was silent and then said, “I wonder what the spell does, because...” She paused. “Has it struck you that right from the beginning, the Coven leaders were far more concerned with keeping the spell secret than with catching the traitor?”
Jemeryl chewed her lip. “You’ve got a point.”
*
By the time they were ten miles north of Horzt, the landscape was noticeably drier. Dusty hollows pitted the crumbling soil. Even in sheltered valleys, the covering of trees was thinning out, giving way to matted gorse and bracken. The air was thinner too, and colder. On all sides, the mountains rose to new heights. Bare fists of rock punched the sky.
The late-morning sun was on their backs as Tevi and Jemeryl followed a trail across open moorland. Ahead of them was a saddleback ridge slung between two peaks. They paused at the crest. On the other side, the terrain plunged in a series of vertical steps, which sprouted around buttress-like folds on the mountainside. The Danor glittered white at the bottom of the gorge, twinned with the darker line of the wagon road.
Until this point, the route had been clearly defined. Faced with the precipitous descent, the path broke into a web of goat tracks, as if the trail makers had been unable to agree on how to proceed.
Tevi followed each track with her eyes until it dropped out of sight. She turned to Jemeryl. “There probably isn’t a best way down, but do you have any idea which might be the least worst?”
“Would it be unduly smug of me to point out that those of us who can fly are all right?” Klara was perched on Jemeryl’s saddle.
“Yes, it would,” Jemeryl said firmly.
Tevi looked at the magpie. “Could you use Klara to check out the route?”
“I’ll give it a try, but paths that look fine from the air are sometimes impassable on foot.” Jemeryl’s voice held little optimism, but she scooped Klara onto her wrist.
Tevi watched, intrigued. Jemeryl’s eyes closed. Her expression froze and then faded. It was as if the air thickened and stilled with the weight of the spell-casting.
Without warning, the silence was broken by a shout. The sound ricocheted around the gorge. Jemeryl jerked out of her trance. Her eyes chased the echoes.
Tevi had already located the source and was urging her back from the ridge, out of sight of the horsemen who had appeared below. The riders were more than a hundred yards away on their ascent of the cliff path, but closing in rapidly. They were clearly a militia patrol. Helmets glinted in the sun, and the distinctive cloaks flapped. The leader stood in the stirrups and called again—an assertive cry demanding attention, but not yet hostile.
“Jem, we’ve got to get away. If Russ has returned to Horzt, they may have my description. The guild members won’t let me go. Not with the guild’s integrity at stake.”
“No. There’s no need. I can take care of it. Come on. Get out of their way so they don’t ride into us.”
Jemeryl led the way towards a small knoll twenty yards from the path. Her horse stepped high over the coarse vegetation. Tevi followed, towing the spare horse and looking around in despair. There was no cover on the open heath. The knoll was barely high enough to hide a cat, and Jemeryl made no attempt to get behind it. She stopped to one side and faced the road. Her fingers started to trace elaborate patterns.
Tevi brought her horse to a halt beside Jemeryl’s and waited. Her mouth was dry, and her eyes jumped between her sword hilt and the point on the skyline where the riders would appear. She tried to convince herself of her faith in Jemeryl’s abilities but felt hopelessly exposed and vulnerable.
In a fury of pounding hooves and the clash of metal, a score of militiamen exploded over the ridge and thundered down the trail. Almost immediately, their impetus started to fizzle out. One by one, they pulled back so that within seconds of their appearance, the charge collapsed in a melee. The lead rider reined in her horse. The plateau provided no hiding place, yet her confused gaze passed by Tevi and Jemeryl. From the body of the patrol came anxious queries.
“Where’ve they gone?”
“They were here, clear as anything.”
“There’s nowhere for them to be.” Panic tinged the voices.
In sudden comprehension, Tevi looked at Jemeryl’s calm face. The sorcerer’s hands were now motionless. Her eyes were glazed, focused on a world beyond the open heath. Tevi took a breath and forced her hands to unclench. She looked around, savouring the dreamlike quality of the blue sky and the rough vegetation. It felt so very strange to stand on a hillside in broad daylight and know herself to be invisible.
“Meric. Come here. Examine the track, and see what you can spot.” The sergeant barked the order. It made little impression on the wiry scout who sat leaning forward in his saddle.
“I don’t need to look for footprints. I can see the same thing as you. The work of a sorcerer.”
Despite his words, the scout dropped lightly from his horse and walked along the track. He knelt and traced over the soil before raising his head. For a moment, his eyes fixed directly on the knoll.
He stood, faced his sergeant and shrugged. “There were three horses, two with riders, but there ain’t now. They might have taken wing and flown, for all I can tell, or they might be standing by my elbow, invisible.”
His words did nothing to calm his colleagues. Several shuffled nervously in their saddles.
Smiling at their discomfiture, the scout added, “I wouldn’t worry. If the sorcerer wanted us dead, we wouldn’t be standing here now.”
The sergeant was clearly unhappy with the scout’s assessment. She chewed her lip while making her decision. “Tadge. Elamis. Go back to the main road. Catch up with the lieutenant and report what we’ve seen. Tell him the rest of us will carry on.” She snapped out the order and raised an arm to wave the rest of the patrol forward.
Tevi grinned, recognising the style of an officer who does not worry whether a command achieves anything worthwhile, as long as it is given and obeyed. From the expressions of the militiamen at the rear, she was not alone in her opinion.
The horsemen rode two abreast along the path. The sound of hooves and harness faded as they shrunk into the distance. Behind them, the detailed militiamen waited until the others were out of earshot.
“I know what I’d like to do,” the other said calmly.
“What?”
“If it’s the same sorcerer as what dunked the mayor, I’d like to offer to buy her a drink.”
A yelp of laughter met his words. “You and the rest of the militia.”
“It doesn’t pay to make enemies you can’t beat.” The older militiaman urged his horse around. “And it’s good news for those three mercenaries who arrived back in Horzt last night.”
“In what way?”
“I know one of them. Russ. From what he said, they’ve had a prisoner abscond, and I’ll bet it was this sorcerer’s companion. Once we tell Russ that his prisoner is under the protection of a sorcerer, the three of them can stop wasting time on the search and report back to their captain. There’s no way they’ll recapture the prisoner now, and no one will blame them for the escape. Like you said, there’s nothing an ordinary person can do about a sorcerer. If anything, I reckon Russ is due a commendation for not getting anyone killed. Or he will be, if he tells the story right.”
“Stupid to send them after a sorcerer’s servant to start with. The entire Horzt militia couldn’t stand up to her.”
“Was that your excuse for not rushing to rescue the mayor?” The militiaman laughed. “I guess both Russ and the mayor were lucky that this sorcerer doesn’t seem too aggressive. Like just now, hiding rather than blasting us to ash.”
“You say the most comforting things.” The young soldier shuddered. “Let’s go.”
After a last jittery glance over the heath, the militiamen wheeled their horses around and trotted back over the ridge. Jemeryl’s head followed them, though her eyes remained unfocused.
“Can you keep this up if we follow? They probably know the best route down,” Tevi said quietly.
“As long as we don’t get too close.” Jemeryl’s voice sounded oddly flat.
With the help of their unwitting guides, the steep descent proved reasonably easy. The route twisted down the hillside. Several times, it seemed certain that a sheer drop would block their way, only for a side path to branch off at the last moment. As the gorge rose above them, the sound of the Danor grew, an unceasing roar of white water. The last few yards were a steep gravel slide onto the road. The militiamen turned south. With high shouts, they spurred their mounts into a gallop, raising a plume of dust behind them.