Legends and Liars

by Julia Knight

  Kacha pulled her recalcitrant horse to a stop, where it jigged and snorted, knowing full well how these sorts of meetings generally went. Even Vocho and Kacha would have difficulty dealing with this many men, but the horse looked like it was itching to try anyway. Vocho’s horse stamped a foot as one of the officers kicked his scrawny beast towards them, while the other cantered down a line of grubby tents shouting something in Ikaran that Vocho couldn’t catch but was pretty sure meant bad news.

  The officer brought his horse to a stop insolently close, which almost cost him a chunk of flesh as Kacha’s horse whipped its teeth towards him, but he reined back just in time.

  “Your business?” the man snapped at Vocho, ignoring Kacha and Cospel.

  Vocho painted on a bright smile and nodded towards the mountains, where he could now see plumes of smoke rising over the ridges and valleys, no doubt signalling other encampments such as this.

  “Reporting for duty.”

  The man snorted in disbelief, ran his gaze over them both and didn’t much like what he saw, if the curl of his lip was anything to go by.

  “Reyens?” He turned and shouted something incomprehensible except for its tone, which had “Come and arrest these spies immediately” written all over it.

  Vocho slid a glance Kass’s way, got a nod of agreement and, while the man playing at being an officer was still turned away, they both rammed their heels to their horses’ flanks. Kass’s beast shied, looked like it was going to argue and then plunged towards a still standing field of tea. Vocho’s horse, permanently exhausted as it usually was, ambled after it and only broke into a canter with another jab of his heels. Cospel’s dogged little pony followed.

  The lush green plants hid them from view, at least partially–they couldn’t avoid the noise or the bushes shaking as the horses barged through. Behind them someone was screaming orders at someone else, and the crash of another horse entering the field had Vocho urging his horse on, as did the sound of a bullet whizzing through a bush to his left.

  His horse was no match for Kass’s great beast, and Vocho wasn’t much better–his back was still on fire, and the removal of the tattoo had left him weak. He fell further behind, leaning forward in the saddle to urge the horse on, desperate now. His horse pitched forward unexpectedly on the uneven ground, sending Vocho up its neck and almost unhorsing him entirely. He scrambled back into the saddle and risked a look behind. He could just make out a plumed hat above the plants, scything through them like a boat through water, scattering leaves in its wake. To his left, another; more to his right. They’d had more than the two horses then. And of course, if he could see them…

  He took his horse in hand, muttered dire imprecations under his breath and kicked so hard it shot forward like a cork out of a bottle. A few yards later the tea bushes came to an abrupt end and Vocho found himself in clear ground, which was exactly where he didn’t want to be with a load of guns behind him. The horse, all pretence at exhaustion disappearing as it picked up on Vocho’s desperation, jigged under him as he reined hard about with a grimace at the pain in his back, searching for Kass. He found her on a steep stretch, waiting for him on a snorting impatient horse, Cospel beside her. His own horse struggled to make it up the slope. It was slathered in white sweat by the time he made it, and his shirt was wet with his own. Kass gave him a look shot through with exasperation, turned and dropped down the other side of the ridge out of sight of their pursuers. For now.

  The other side was tea, tea and more tea–still not quite tall enough to hide them on horseback. In the distance, up another, steeper, incline, the waving bushes gave way to woods that might at least hide them for a time.

  Kass pulled up her horse just below the ridge so that she couldn’t be seen by anyone until they had breasted it. Meanwhile Vocho’s horse panted and blew, gasping for breath as he turned to see what she was about, drawing his sword as he did. He regretted that almost instantly and struggled to keep the blade up. The only way he managed was by imagining how great it would be to drink some of Esti’s jollop and neither feel pain nor care about it.

  The first of their pursuers fairly flew over the ridge, driving his almost spent horse for all it was worth. Too quick, because he was on Kass before he knew it, and on the ground an eyeblink later. The scrawny horse galloped on, eyes white, sweat streaming from its neck.

  “There’s more,” Vocho gasped. “Too many.” His back was on fire, and where his shirt was stuck to the wound with sweat he was pretty sure he could smell burning.

  Kass leaped down, checked the unconscious form at her horse’s feet and grabbed the gun from his waist.

  “It’s not that desperate yet,” Vocho said. Kass had a bad history with guns. “Just put it away, please?”

  She shot him a look but grudgingly tucked the gun away where it probably couldn’t do any damage, to anyone else or more importantly them.

  The Ikaran’s horse was below them, plunging through the plants as though it had wolves on its tail, all but obscured by their tops so that all they could make out was movement. So when Kass led her horse off to one side, quietly and carefully, mindful of the steep slope that kept her feet slipping to the left, Vocho slid down and did likewise, Cospel close behind. Dismounted, the tea plants towered over them, and it wasn’t long before they were hidden completely, and they stopped so the plants’ movement didn’t give away where they were.

  Horses crashed through plants, men grunted as they were jolted against saddles, the whisper of protesting leaves, and then they were gone down the hill, following the now riderless horse.

  Vocho’s horse struggled to catch its breath and Vocho didn’t feel much better. He fumbled blindly in his pack for the jollop and got a good glug down before Kass’s hand stopped him.

  “No telling if those men can actually track,” she whispered. “We need our wits about us, because it’s not just them.” She nodded to where he had earlier, to the other plumes of smoke towards the mountains. “We need to get away from here before they realise their mistake.”

  Right now Vocho hardly cared. He laid his head on his horse’s sweating neck and waited for the jollop to do its work. First came the light-headedness, which he welcomed–while it didn’t dull the pain in his back, it did make him care about it less. Then came the heaviness and with it numbness, so he could stand straight without breaking into a pain-racked sweat.

  Kass watched him with a frown, but she said nothing, only took the reins of his horse with hers and led them away, not downslope but not up either, for which Vocho was thankful. She took them around the lip of the valley, stopping every once in a while to scramble their tracks behind them or to clamber onto her horse and look carefully about.

  By the time Vocho began to get his senses back enough to ride rather than stumble blearily after her, it was long past noon and they’d come in a big loop to almost opposite where she’d downed their pursuer. Apart from a few far-off calls and once the crash of a horse close by to their left, they’d had no sign of the pursuit. The horses had cooled by now, and Cospel saw to rubbing them down and checking their feet. Vocho’s horse had a knee that was swollen and warm after its pitch on the uneven ground, but seemed sound enough provided he didn’t ask too much of it. That didn’t seem likely, given Vocho felt like he’d asked far too much of himself today. Every bone dragged with weariness, and even through Esti’s jollop there was a faint remembrance of pain as though it was just biding its time.

  Kass gave him an appraising look and said, “You wait there. I’ll see if I can find some water for the horses and take a look around. Cospel, try to look after the silly bugger.”

  Vocho didn’t argue, which only made her frown the more. Instead he fell to his knees, trying to stay alert while Cospel fussed over the horses. She wasn’t long, and he groped his way back to his feet.

  “No sign of them now,” she said. “And they’re pretty bad at covering a trail, so I doubt they’re much good at following one either. Still, better safe than sorry
. Come on. There’s a wood not far and a stream.”

  “Kass…”

  “Out here’s no good. Come on, Voch. It’s not far.”

  They started off in a silence that only grew between them, broken by the snorts of the horses, the jangle of harness and Cospel muttering under his breath about days off, getting shot at and how going back to the Shrive might be preferable and more peaceful. Fire grew again in Vocho’s back, and he kept casting furtive glances at his pack, though he made sure Kass didn’t see. No more of the jollop until sundown, he’d promised himself, and that was hours away.

  He didn’t like it when Kass was this quiet–it meant she was thinking. No pointed remarks, no needling him, none of the usual things that drove him mad and, when they weren’t there, he missed. He supposed he wasn’t being much like himself either, but damn, he just wanted a moment to sneak some more jollop. Just a swig, just a small glug. Just something to take the edge off.

  They came to the end of the plantation, where it merged almost seamlessly into a wooded slope. He groaned at the thought of climbing, but better that than stay where there was no water and little cover. Not with all those fires he’d seen and the number of soldiers that must be around them.

  She stopped just before they left the tea bushes behind for good, and he joined her in scanning for any sign of… well, anything. People, ambush, wolves, surprise magicians. Once they were satisfied the way was clear, Kacha led on to the stream she’d found, and a small clearing bounded on two sides by near-vertical slopes and on the third by brush so impenetrable Vocho thought rabbits might have trouble getting through it. They debated a fire, and decided not. It wasn’t cold; they had enough food that didn’t need cooking and, though neither of them said it he knew they were both thinking it, there was an army massing around them. An army that probably wouldn’t be too friendly. They were Reyen by accent, by looks in Kass’s case, by the harness on their horses and by their swords–spies.

  Kass looked at him carefully before she spoke. “Can you ride without taking any more of that stuff?”

  He shrugged but not too hard because even the slightest movement made him wince now. His hand twitched to his pack, but he snatched it away. “Maybe.”

  “Voch, you’re going to need your wits about you if we hope to get through all that. And that stuff… it leaves you worse than when you’re drunk. If we get into trouble, I can’t get us both out, not even with Cospel’s help. I need you with me.”

  He’d rarely seen her so serious, and he had a sneaking suspicion he knew why. “You’re planning something, aren’t you?”

  She looked up guiltily. “Maybe.”

  “Well maybe you could tell me what? I’m not so far gone I can’t see straight.”

  A snort of laughter that was better at least than her silence. “Well, OK. Let’s start with, what does all that mean?” She waved a hand towards the shadowy mountains, the plumes of smoke between them.

  “Oh come on, Kass. I’m in pain and dosed up with the-Clockwork-God-knows-what, but that’s easy. Given the, er, gentlemen we met earlier, it looks very much like a lot of people who don’t normally live here spread over a large area. Probably for reasons of warfare.”

  “I saw a few things while I was looking for water earlier. The road up to the pass is all churned up, like a lot of horses and wagons went past not too long ago. Old fire pits, that sort of thing.”

  “Forward does not seem like a good option right now, then. Even less so than before.”

  She fidgeted with the gun she’d stolen, and Vocho leaned back out of the way and noticed Cospel subtly doing the same.

  “Not really, no,” she said.

  What is wrong with you, Kass? What aren’t you telling me? It struck him that he’d never before had cause not to trust her, but the feeling in the pit of his stomach was like someone had dropped a stone in it.

  “But you want to go anyway.” Not a question–he knew his sister far too well. “Why are we going, or rather why do you still want to go?”

  “Same reason as you, Voch. Undying devotion to Reyes, not wanting to watch her burn or her people’s blood run in the streets. You know, the good thing.”

  “Sod the good thing. I mean, I’m all for saving Reyes–I quite like the place even if it currently doesn’t like me–but what are we talking here? An army sat right in our path. Eneko planning his own little coup if Dom’s right. Sabates and Alicia behind and probably catching up. Us with an antidote but probably no way to get it to the person who matters. I’m not liking this plan of yours much.”

  “It’s all I’ve got. Give me a better suggestion.”

  “We could go around, go back, lie low somewhere. There’s a fucking big army out there if you hadn’t noticed, Kass, not a half-arsed bunch of nobles playing by the rules, not Orgull doing a bit of posturing to put pressure on the negotiations, even if you and I know those negotiations aren’t what they appear. Not just a few soldiers got together in case negotiations fail. There’s too many fires out there for that, too many tracks in the dust, too many empty fields in a country that relies on exporting what it can grow, because you aren’t the only one with eyes in your head.”

  “I realise that, but—”

  But Vocho was too far gone to stop now. Too much pain in his back, and tiredness making his eyes spin. “Kass, out there, right where we need to go, is a big, proper army, just waiting for the go-ahead. I mean, yes, I love Reyes as much as you do, which is why I agreed to come in the first place, but not so much I’m willing to die in some stupid wood because I don’t talk with the right accent. Why are you so all fired up to do this?”

  A sharp glance, so quick he might have missed it. “We swore, Voch, didn’t we? Swore to protect Reyes if it came to it.”

  “I never swore,” Cospel muttered, and they both raised an eyebrow, which he answered with a mysterious semaphore of his own. “I never! Never swore to the guild. I may have cursed the bloody thing for giving me you two as employers, and may be inventing new words for it as we speak. If it weren’t for the fact I’m up to my neck in as much shit as you two, then I’d have hightailed it a long time since. Because I never swore. I didn’t have much choice, did I? This or swing for thieving, and some days I ain’t so sure swinging would be worse.”

  “Fine, you never swore,” Vocho said. “Kass, we swore all right, and look where that got us. Reyes broke faith with us when no one even questioned my guilt, when we had to leave like sneak thieves in the night. When the prelate put a price on our heads–and that hasn’t been revoked, has it? No, Reyes left us before we left it. I was willing to go along because, well, because Reyes is home and maybe we’ll get a pardon, but I don’t owe it a damn thing. Not against an army, Kass. There’s reckless and then there’s downright stupid.”

  She still had that stubborn look to her face, the one that meant she was going to do it anyway, whether he liked it or not.

  “Come on, Kass. Why do this? Why not sit this one out?”

  It took a long time coming, her answer. “Because we’re better than that, aren’t we? I always thought we were. We’re duellists, Voch, whether we’re in the guild or not. Think of the glory if we help prevent a war.”

  But her gaze went everywhere but him, and he knew. Kass wasn’t like him, couldn’t lie as easily as breathing, in fact as far as he knew had only lied once to him, and that was only by not telling him something. She was not telling him again, and it’d take a team of horses to drag it out of her most like, but he could guess.

  Only one thing could make her lie to him now, and that was Petri bloody Egimont. Had to be. Damned man always made her go all noble, like Petri liked to think he was. Vocho didn’t give a crap for noble.

  He blew out an exasperated sigh and, despite Kacha’s glower, got Esti’s jollop out of his pack and took a swig, felt the pain in his back along with a lot else melt away to nothing much.

  The trouble was, he did give a crap about Reyes. And glory–glory was always good. But what in hells w
as going through his sister’s head? He knew her better than anyone alive but suddenly felt like he didn’t know her at all. She was lying to him, he was sure of it, and that made his whole life sway in front of his eyes. He’d fucked up before and sworn he wasn’t going to do it again. Besides, she was his sister, and he was going to make sure she didn’t do anything stupid. Like believe anything Petri told her. The glory, if there was any, would be a bonus, his muddled mind told him. A whole boatload of glory if they managed to stop a war–oh and brought the prelate back to his senses. Maybe they’d even get back into the guild. Not under Eneko or Petri though. He’d eat his sword before he did that. Maybe… Now there was a thought. With Eneko and Petri both having betrayed the prelate, who would be guild master? Not Eneko’s apprentice and once closest confidante, surely. Maybe a certain glory-filled young man with a bit of dash to him? A thought to warm the coldest recesses of his heart. He might even share with Kass if she got her head out of her arse about Petri. If she stopped lying to him about it.

  There was only one way he could think of in his addled state to make her see sense. He had to know what she was thinking. What Petri had told her. He had to see that letter.

  He fumbled at his horse’s saddle and went through all the rest of the routine–brushing the sweat from the gelding’s back, checking his feet, which had his back screaming through the numbing jollop. Cospel offered to help, but Vocho shook his head. Water from the stream, grain from the bags, hobble the gelding so he could at least graze. All through this he said nothing and neither did Kass, and that made him only more sure she was lying. Finally he slumped down next to where a fire should have been and cocked a weary eyebrow her way. She looked up from where she fiddled with a bit of harness and looked him over, not seeming to like what she found.

  “You and Cospel go first,” she said. “I’m not sleepy yet.”