"We'll have to keep moving if we expect to reach camp before dark," she said, and Massan finally looked down at her to see that she stared off into the distance, in the direction they were both facing. "It isn't an easy trek, but you can make it if you pretend you're dragging me along by the collar. The last time you just about ran."
She started off without waiting for an answer, but Massan had had more than enough. He reached out with the speed that had kept him alive so long, took a split second to realize there was no longer a collar to hold to, then settled for the long, soft black hair. The girl yelped as she was dragged back, and then stood glaring up at him with a look he was beginning to find too familiar.
"What in the name of the Three Lordly Ones is going on?" he demanded, his anger putting a growl into his voice. "Who are you, and what is this place? How can the fair be here one minute and gone the next? Who is Rothaz, and what does he want? And why should it take almost until dark before we reach a place to camp?"
“If I answer all those questions now, we won't get to the camp until after dark," the girl maintained, ignoring the fist in her hair. “After sundown it rains here, and the temperature drops lower than a snake spell. I had to find that out the hard way, and if you want to do the same, be my guest. Just don't expect me to let you forget the choice was yours."
Massan stared down at her for a long moment, then felt the grin trying to crease his face. No, she wasn't one to forget things, especially if they made her wet and cold. Women had never given him exactly that sort of a warning before; it was the sort of thing they gave a man without warning.
“All right, I'll wait until we get to camp," he agreed, letting her hair go. "But not a minute longer."
“I knew I could count on your self-control," she answered, shaking her head to rid herself of the lingering feel of his fist in her hair. “For the second time."
The wide gray eyes barely glanced at him as she took herself off again, and this time Massan didn't try to stop her. He simply followed along across the plains, grinning his grin at her moving back.
They walked for hours through nothing but tall grass waving at an empty sky, the lowering sun and their mounting weariness the only indications that time was passing. Massan was glad his boots were well broken in and only then noticed that the girl was also wearing boots, but silver ones. Somehow they went well with her silver gown, and thoughts about the contents of that gown occupied him for the next few miles. He was diverted from those thoughts when a pile of something indistinguishable appeared in the grass far ahead, which eventually proved to be a small silver silk tent folded atop tent-posts and a small number of well-stuffed leather pouches. Massan put the tent up while the girl looked through the pouches, then watched while she carried three of them into the tent. The sky was darkening with more than the approach of evening by then, a cold wind blowing away the last warmth of the day. Massan followed her inside just as the first raindrops began spattering, and the girl shivered as she left the pouches to close the tent-flap, then went to light a small lantern that hung at the side of the tent.
"That's all there is that's fit to eat right now," she said, turning from the lantern to gesture toward the largest of the three pouches. "The rest is raw, and cooking after dark becomes impractical here. If it isn't enough, you can console yourself with that wine."
Her second gesture was directed at one of the smaller pouches lying to the right of the biggest, and Massan went over to crouch near it. Picking it up proved it to be a wineskin, so he settled himself on the tent floor, opened it, and took a long pull. That it was that full-bodied silver wine didn't surprise him, and when he lowered the skin he looked at the girl.
"I think it's safe to say we're in camp," he observed, watching her pull a sauced oblong of barbecued meat from the largest pouch before sitting back on the tent floor. "Do you need those questions repeated, or do you remember them?"
"I remember them," she said around a mouthful of meat, pausing briefly to lick two of her fingers. "I'm Indelee, I have no real idea what this place is or how we can be moving through here and the fair both at the same time, Rothaz is my stepfather and a wizard, and what he wants is beyond my knowledge. I'll know it when we come across it, though, in the same way I can see this place and the fair, both at the same time. Why it took so long to get here is something else I don't know, but I do know the same amount of ground wasn't covered at the fair. We're barely beyond the temple perimeter right now, just past the moneychangers and artisans and a short way into the wineshops and food stalls. If we weren't, we wouldn't be eating and drinking this."
"I can understand now why you didn't want to take all that time explaining things when I first asked," Massan said, his tone a good deal drier than the now rain-drenched ground outside the tent. "You had to save your breath for the walk."
'That walk calmed you down," the girl said, paying more attention to the meat in her hands than to Massan. "If I'd said the same thing back when you first asked, you never would have accepted it. I was supposed to make this walk alone, but Rothaz is punishing me for running away from him. He was hoping you'd get angry enough to beat me.
"It could still happen," Massan answered, his annoyance rising over the fact that she apparently couldn't even be bothered with looking at him. "If that's the only reason I'm here, let's get to it so I can go back."
"That was one of the reasons you're here," she answered, still not looking at him but this time likely because of the faint flush in her cheeks. "The other one is that Rothaz has heard of you, and is trying to get you committed to searching for him. If you survive this walk, he expects to have you netted."
"Does he," Massan said, leaning back slightly where he sat. "Why should surviving a walk be so difficult, and what would I be searching for?"
"Tomorrow's walk won't be like today's," the girl said, spilling some water out of the skin at her knee onto her hands before wiping her fingers on a silken cloth. "What you would be searching for would be more of those—things— Rothaz wants so badly, ones whose locations haven't already been found by previous searchers. All we have to do with the one we're after is retrieve it."
She rose gracefully to her feet then and turned completely away from him, something that pushed Massan over the edge. There was something she wasn't saying, something that still didn't make sense. Without thinking about it, he was up nearly as fast as she was, and then his big hand was closing on a slender, silver-gowned arm.
"And why would risking my neck commit me to Rothaz?" he demanded, trying to ignore what touching that warm, slender arm was beginning to make him feel. "Why would he think something like that would net me for him?"
"He—expects you to come to want me," she answered with vast reluctance, staring at the faintly illuminated tent wall, her hands held in front of her. "That's what he used to get the others, to make them willing searchers. He's promised to choose among them by midwinter, but I don't care if he does. The next time I get away from him, I'll stay free no matter what I have to do. So now that you know the truth, you'll be able to show him you're not as great a fool as he thinks you are. As soon as we get back you'll turn around and walk away, instead of enslaving yourself to a wizard for nothing."
"For nothing," he muttered, reluctantly opening his fingers. As soon as the girl was free she went to the tent wall she'd been staring at and lay down, obviously preparing herself for sleep. Massan stood in complete silence for a minute, staring at her unmoving form, then turned and went back to the wineskin he'd left. Later he would eat something, but right then he wanted that wineskin.
The night was a long one for Massan, and by the time dawn came he was more than ready to get up. He and the girl shared what was left of the food and water, then they continued on in the same direction they'd been going the day before. The girl said not a single word to him, and he decided not to press the point.
The ground remained damp until midday, but that and sore feet were the worst they risked—until the girl suddenly gasped. Imme
diately thereafter there was a beast in their path, a kind of beast Massan had never before seen. All fur and claws and glaring red eyes it was, and it seemed to be in the midst of attacking even as it materialized. Massan pushed the girl out of its path and the next instant found the beast's front paws locked around him, ravening fangs intent on tearing off his face. His big hands went to the thing's throat almost as fast, and the cords stood out in his arms and shoulders and neck as he fought to keep those slavering jaws away from his face. He breathed in the reek of the thing's breath, a mixture of long-dead meat and freshly spilled blood, and then the thing's hug was crushing him, forcing the air out of his lungs and replacing it with pain. He grunted with that pain even as he braced his left arm to hold that thick, furry neck and head at bay, intent on doing it just long enough to free his right hand for an instant. He strained and shifted, refusing to feel the pain, and then the hand he had freed was no longer empty. A great silver-and-ruby dagger shimmered to life in his fist, and the next minute it was under the thing's throat and flashing upward, to rise through the thing's mouth and slash its way into whatever brain lurked behind the maddened red eyes. Blood spurted, and the thing screamed, the first sound Massan had heard it make, and then it was gone as abruptly as it had appeared, taking the wash of its blood and the stench of its breath with it. Massan staggered with the abrupt release and was down on one knee before he could catch himself.
"Are you all right?" the girl demanded, hurrying over to put a hand on his shoulder. "Did it hurt you?"
Massan let his head hang as he drew fresh air into his lungs, left hand to right ribs where they felt crushed, not yet up to answering. The pain in his chest eased with every breath he took, showing him that none of his ribs really had been cracked. Sweat rolled down his forehead into his eyes, making them sting, forcing him to bring his right forearm up to wipe at the stream. The silver-and-ruby dagger was gone again, returned to its sheath until he needed it the next time, and only after he had made sure of that did he look up at the girl.
"What in the name of Thotharn's deepest hell was that?" he asked with all the strength he could muster, this time taking over the job of glaring. "And if your vast storehouse of knowledge can handle it, I'd also like to know where it came from."
"I don't know what it was," the girl admitted with a flush to her cheeks, her wide gray eyes showing embarrassment. "Where it came from is something else I don't know, but it was caused to be here by the presence of an animal trainer walking one of his animals around the fair. I saw the two of them just before the thing attacked; I knew what would happen, but there wasn't time enough to warn you."
"All morning wasn't time enough?" Massan demanded, pushing himself to his feet. "Or are you simply that fond of giving people surprises? And how were you supposed to survive making this— stroll —alone?"
"I couldn't tell you about it," she answered as she looked up at him, a bitterness now in those eyes. "Just the way I couldn't tell you why you were a fool to take me back to Rothaz and claim his reward. I may have found a way to run from him, but there are certain of his spells I can't get around. If you still don't like the idea, why don't you try giving me that beating Rothaz expects me to get? Go ahead, just try it!"
She stood glaring up at Massan with her fists on her hips, her eyes and expression daring him to try. In spite of himself Massan felt that grin come back, but all he did was move his hand to his ribs again.
"I'll have to owe it to you," he said, wincing at the soreness his hand found. "You still haven't told me how you were supposed to get through this alone."
"When I'm alone I can—fade back—toward the fair if anything materializes," she said, slightly mollified but stitl proddish. "The appearing beast can't reach me if I move fast enough. Do you want me to look at those ribs?"
Yes, Massan wanted to say, but all he did was shake his head. I'm not a fool, he thought as they continued on their way again, but after a while he wasn't quite as sure.
There were two more beast attacks that day, both smaller than the first one and easier to dispatch. The girl was able to give him warning each of those times, which also helped him to survive. That night they shared a tent half the size of the one they'd had the night before, and the temperature dropped a good deal lower. Massan awoke in the darkness to the sound of dripping rain, only to find that the girl had moved in her sleep to press herself against him, likely to share his warmth. He put his arm around the small, shivering form and thought, Indelee, her name is Indelee. Other thoughts tried to push themselves into his mind as well, but he wasn't fool enough to let them.
The next day the girl changed their line of march, and barely halfway through the morning they came to a place where the air shimmered above a small circular section of the grassy plain. When she touched his arm Massan could see corrals and barns and tents and wagons, the section of the fair where animals and animal acts were housed. The girl was just about to speak when the flying things and hopping things attacked, and he was quickly caught up in defending the two of them. The fetid green flying things attacked with beaks and talons, scoring Massan every time his flashing silver dagger was elsewhere, the bone-white hopping things jumping in every time the flying things retreated. He could feel the blood rolling down his face and hands and legs even as he swung wildly back and forth to clear the air above him, not knowing how long he could stand against that double attack. He stood for what seemed like hours, his strength seeping out along with his blood, and then suddenly they were gone from all around him, letting him fall to the ground in exhaustion.
"It's all right now, I've got it," came the girl's voice, and a moment later her hands were on his arm, trying to turn him over. "Nothing else will attack us now that we've got—whatever it is."
"Glad to hear that," Massan gasped, trying to fight off the dizziness spinning him around. "Don't think—I have enough—blood left—" His words ended abruptly as he passed out.
When he came to he knew immediately where he was and felt not the least desire to move. The girl sat near him with his head in her lap, patting gently at his face with a corner of that silver gown. Indelee, he thought without opening his eyes, Indelee. Then he sat up abruptly and struggled to his feet, only to find that the scoring and bites he'd taken and the bleeding he'd done were no longer in evidence. Nothing lasts in this place, he thought as he looked down at her, seeing the hurt in those wide gray eyes before she turned away from him. Nothing, most likely, but death and foolheadedness. He wanted to say something to her to make things better instead of worse, but he couldn't think of anything. All he could do was follow her across the grass of the plains in an entirely new direction, his silence a match to hers.
By the time the sun was low in the sky, Massan had made up his mind. When they reached that night's camp, he would take her in his arms and say her name, then tell her exactly what he was. If she was in the least interested after that, he'd— He didn't know what he would do about their lives, but they could work that out later on. The very first thing he would do was—
"Well, well, what a lovely memento of your stroll," came Rothaz's voice, jerking Massan's head up from the grass he'd been staring at for so long. The tall, robed man stood about five feet in front of him, the silent servant to Rothaz's left, and behind, between them, an even more silent girl— "Truly lovely," Rothaz crooned, peering into a small leather pouch above which the air shimmered. "How good of you to bring it to me."
"Rothaz," Massan began, taking a step forward. "Rothaz, wait ..."
"Do visit my modest little holding, Captain, if you ever find yourself nearby," Rothaz purred, raising one hand to a square, golden decoration on his robe, another into the air. "It lies to the east."
Massan tried to launch himself against the wizard even as Rothaz gestured, but that was far too late. Images began sliding about in front of his eyes, images of Rothaz laughing, of the servant holding the girl back by twisting her arm, of the girl screaming in pain even as she tried to escape—
&nbs
p; "Indelee!" Massan roared, falling through black space with nothin and no one in it. "Indelee!"
"Are you all right, ward captain?" asked a solicitous voice, and Massan looked around wildly to see the temple gates where nothing but grass had been, the temple official where they had been. He had been returned to the fair, and the height of the sun said no more than an hour had passed—if it was the same day.
Without answering the official, Massan ran to the pavilion he'd visited earlier, finding, as he had more than half expected, nothing but silent, unfurnished, unoccupied emptiness. They were gone, all of them—if they had ever existed. The temple official looked at Massan as if he were crazy as the ward captain headed back to the fairgrounds, and maybe that was it exactly. Maybe he'd been so bored he had fallen asleep on his feet and had dreamed the whole thing. Massan ran a big hand through his hair and tried to make himself believe that, but it had seemed so real, and the girl—
By the time the big ward captain was back among the food stalls and the wineshops, he almost had himself believing it had all been a dream. The trekking and fighting hadn't been much to think about, but to believe there was a girl like that, with eyes as gray as his own, a girl who would have made any man take notice— Massan snorted his scorn at himself, to daydream about a female like a boy just into his manhood. Didn't he have better things to do with his time?
"Hai, Massan, this you gotta hear!" a voice called, and
Massan turned to see Trig trotting up, looking furious. “Would you believe this? I mean, don't it beat all?"
“Believe what?" Massan asked, looking around to see how far he was from his favorite wineshop. For some reason he was really thirsty, not to mention hungry.
"My purse!" Trig answered, outrage all through the words. "Some little thief cut my purse! Do you believe it? Going after a fair-ward? When I find that little thief, I'm gonna skin him alive, you see if I don't!"
Norton, Andre - Anthology Page 9
