by Tanya Huff
Attacked. Gyhard kept his expression carefully neutral. He hadn’t told them what had happened back by the village; had ridden behind the two women until the rain had washed away all the visible signs and then the storm had made conversation difficult. And now? Although he remained a target for as long as he remained in Bannon’s body, the assassin was dead. He suspected that the moment the army received the corpse the hunt would be up again, but for now he was safe and therefore had no need to set Vree specifically guarding her brother’s body. No need to cause her more distress than she already endured.
“Who’s going to attack us out here?” he asked, gesturing with his right arm—his left carefully immobilized by a thumb through a belt loop. The shoulder was only bruised, but moving it twisted barbed spikes of pain in the muscle. The storm had helped him hide it all afternoon. “Bandits? They’d have to be pretty stupid ones considering how seldom this road is used.”
“And there’re no wild animals this close to the center of the Empire,” Karlene offered.
“No bandits? No wild animals?” Vree’s voice rose. “What the slaughtering difference does that make? We missed a target we should’ve been able to hit in our sleep!” She stomped back to the fire and dropped down to sit cross-legged beside it.
Gyhard’s hand hovered over her hair. When he saw Karlene watching him, he let it fall back to his side. “I think …” He paused with exaggerated politeness while the bard sneezed. “I think we should get out of these wet clothes and let them dry.”
Vree had no difficulty identifying the source of a sudden, intense rush of heat. Bannon’s thoughts. Her thoughts. All at once, it became very easy to tell them apart.
*The four of us, naked by the fire, keeping warm on a cool, damp, summer night …*
*Slaughter it, Bannon, with everything else that’s going on, how can you keeping thinking about fucking all the time?*
*Maybe because I can only think about it as long as I’m in your body!* He turned her head so she could see Gyhard stepping out of the wide folds of his trousers. *I had no idea you were such a prude.*
As the firelight flickered over the hard curves of her brother’s thighs and belly, she felt Bannon’s desire. It was easy to hide her desire within it. *And I never knew you were such a pervert,* she snapped, dragging dripping folds of silk over her head. When she emerged, still staring at Gyhard, her eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong with your arm?”
“What do you mean?”
“You can’t lift it over your head, you’ve barely managed to get your shirt off and …” Vree leaped to her feet and stepped toward him. “There’s a huge slaughtering bruise just below your shoulder!”
“I didn’t realize you knew your brother’s body so well,” Gyhard murmured. “The fire is throwing so little light, I can hardly see you at all.”
Vree leaned closer, studying his arm. “It’s swollen too. What happened?”
“My horse kicked me.”
“When?”
“When you two—pardon me, Bannon; you three—rode off without me this morning. I went off the horse, fortunately retained my grip on the reins, and while I was on the ground, he kicked me.”
*Vree!*
*Calm down, Bannon, let me find out how bad it is.* “Is anything broken?”
“No.”
“How much use of it have you lost?”
“About half.”
“Are you in much pain.”
A dark brow lifted, the upper curve of the arc disappearing under a wet curl. “Why do you care?”
“In case you’ve forgotten,” Vree snarled, “you’re in a borrowed body. If you’re feeling pain, then you’ve damaged it.”
*Asshole,* Bannon added.
“Touched as I am by your concern, I assure you that I am not feeling more pain than I can cope with and nothing has been irrevocably damaged.” As her fingers danced over the bruise, he became aware of his nakedness and caught her hands in his before he embarrassed himself. “Please don’t,” he said softly.
Vree looked at him for a long moment, then freed her hands and pulled away. Wetting lips gone inexplicably dry, she said, “Just don’t forget that Bannon wants his body back.”
On the other side of the fire, Karlene watched and listened and half thought that Vree’d meant that last reminder for herself.
* * * *
Hours later, Gyhard put another stick on the fire, watched a flame dance onto it, and smiled. He used to love to watch a fire, used to think he could see the world in the flames. The smile faded. All he saw in these flames were complications.
The bard was sound asleep, head pillowed on her arm, one bare and muddy foot sticking out from under her blanket. Her life, for all the unanswered questions, was simple; all she wanted was to Sing the prince’s kigh to wherever it was kigh went.
He slid his gaze over to Vree who slept curled around her daggers. Vree wanted to save the prince as well—she had, after all spent her whole life sworn to defend the Imperial Family—but she also wanted him dead. Or out of her brother’s body which, without another host, amounted to the same thing. At least now that it appeared the army knew Vree and Bannon had deserted, Vree would not have to kill the bard to protect what was no longer a secret.
But both women knew his secret, so in order to protect himself, they would both have to die.
He didn’t think he could kill a bard.
He didn’t want to kill Vree.
And what if the prince were alive? Did that change anything except the body he’d end up wearing?
And what about me? He looked down at the mirror balanced on his knee. Ninety years ago, I foolishly fell in love, trusted the man with whom I was in love, and pushed him off the edge of insanity. Why am I racing after him now?
Because I am responsible for what he has become.
And why am I accepting that responsibility?
Because she’s made it impossible for me to hide from myself.
But once I catch up to him, what am I going to do?
He shook his head at the mirror, and Bannon’s reflection shook its head back at him. And why am I sitting up, asking myself these questions in the middle of the night? Bannon’s reflection offered no answer.
Shifting position slightly, he cupped his hand over the mirror and stared down at Vree.
As though she felt the weight of his regard, she stirred and opened her eyes, abruptly awake. “Why are you looking at me like that?
Why not? “Because you’re beautiful.”
Her brows drew in and her features subtly changed. “Leave my sister alone,” she growled. “She’ll only ever hate you for what you’ve done to me.”
Oh, yes, that was why not. “Are you jealous, Bannon?”
She half rose, moving fluidly to attack. Then under the satin sheath of her skin, her muscles spasmed and she fell to the ground, rigid and trembling.
His hand resting on the dagger by his side, Gyhard watched, wishing he hadn’t spoken, wondering which of them would win.
Her body lifted off the ground on shoulders and heels, spine arched painfully, then shuddered and collapsed.
When he moved toward her, she glared up at him and said, “Don’t.”
He stopped where he was. “I’m sorry.”
Panting, she clutched at the blanket and wrapped it tightly around herself. “Are you planning to apologize to Kars, too?” she asked and rolled over, back to him.
Why was it he loved her?
Because she’s made it impossible for me to hide from myself
* * * *
Vree lay awake for the rest of the night, listening to him breathe.
Fourteen
Although the rain had stopped, the road remained deep in mud. More an irritant than an obstacle for those walking or riding who could take to the verges where plants held the soil together, the heavy clay would stick to the wheels of a cart, build up between the spokes, clump around the axle, and stop it cold.
Vree worked her toes in the cool embrace
of wet earth and looked up. Between the pink and gold streaks of dawn, the sky was a pale silver-gray brushed lightly with cloud. The air was warm and damp and felt as if it had gone through other lungs.
She heard footsteps behind her and turned slowly.
Gyhard stopped a body’s length away.
Birds, insects, even the liquid song of the river seemed to fall suddenly silent.
“You took away everything I had,” she said. “Because of you, I broke oaths. Because of you, I killed a friend. The moment I can, I will kill you. That is all there will ever be between us.”
“There is, already, more than that.”
“No.” Bannon narrowed Vree’s eyes and drew her lips up off her teeth. “There is not.”
“You’ve never had serious competition before, have you, Bannon? There’s never been anyone in her life with enough allure to distract her attention from you. And now …” Gyhard spread Bannon’s hands. “… you’re competing, at least partially, with yourself. How ironic.”
“Smile while you can, carrion eater. When you leave my body, we’ll open another smile in your throat.”
“Incentive to stay, don’t you think?”
“You’re a dead man!”
“You’re an idiot.”
“Sod off, both of you!” Vree snapped, yanking her body out of Bannon’s control. She jabbed a finger at Gyhard. “I don’t give a rebel’s tit for what you think is going on or what Bannon thinks is going on, either. You are in my brother’s body, and I want you out of him as much as I want him out of me. Everything else is bullshit!” Nostrils flared, she stomped past Gyhard toward the ruined building, water spraying up from the saturated sod with every step. “I’m going to wake Karlene, and we’re going to get moving before the mud bakes dry and we lose this chance.”
*Slaughter it, Vree …*
*Don’t push me, Bannon.*
*Me push you? You’re not the one who’s being betrayed! You’re supposed to hate him!*
*Hatred dulls your blade.* It was one of the earliest lessons an assassin learned. Clutching it tightly, Vree stepped over the threshold and moved toward the fire where a small flame still danced along a partially burned stick. What point in making a stronger denial; as she felt his betrayal, he felt her guilt.
* * * *
Broader wheels might not have sunk so deep—although broader wheels would have picked up more of the sticky mud with every turning. He thought of abandoning the cart, but his old bones moved so slowly that it would add many, many days to the trip home. Time enough to leave the cart when they had to leave the road.
He patted Kait on her thin shoulder, damp fabric sticking to her graying skin, and answered her slow smile with one of his own. “Keep pushing, child.”
“Yesss, Fa … ther.” She threw her weight against the bar that joined shafts, mud churning beneath bare feet. Pushing beside her, Wheyra crooned to what decay had left of her baby.
Slowly and carefully, his robe dragging in the wet, his fingers wrapped tightly around his staff, he walked to the back of the cart where the two most recent members of his family watched over his heart.
It had become necessary that Iban and Hestia push from the back—or the cart would not pull free of the mud’s embrace. But that would leave his heart alone and unprotected.…
He had lost his heart once before. He would not allow it to happen again. When the beautiful eyes that had haunted his dreams for longer than he could remember lifted to meet his, he said as he had said a hundred times since the turning of the Circle had brought them together again, “Don’t leave me.”
* * * *
His horse had not gone far. Much as the storm had driven him to seek shelter, it had driven the horse under the roof of a three-sided goat pen in the fishing village. They spent the night together, the assassin, the horse, and the half-dozen goats. Just after dawn, after swallowing a painfully chewed mouthful of journey bread, Neegan led the horse from the shed. The owner of the goats, arriving to check her stock, saw the Imperial uniform and, although she had no idea of what the black sunburst meant, recognized danger when she saw it. Hands out from her sides, she stayed well back as Neegan emerged from the pen, and asked no questions.
“Ya need a hayla,” she said after a moment, as he checked the animal’s hooves.
Neegan straightened and stared at her in some confusion, one eye swollen nearly shut. “I need a what?”
“A hayla,” she repeated. “Fer ya hayd.”
“A healer.”
“That’s what Ah sayd, a hayla.”
He glanced over the cluster of weatherworn buildings. “Does this place have a healer?”
“No. Shahbridge’s closest.”
Teeth clenched, he swung into the saddle. “I’m going the other way.”
“Road’s gonna be amass.”
“A what?”
She sighed and spat. “Amass. Muddy.”
“Thank you for your concern. I’ll manage.”
Her shrug very clearly told him to suit himself.
* * * *
“We’ve got to be making better time than he is.” Karlene swiped at the sweat rolling down her face with the back of her left hand, leaving a smear of mud behind. “Don’t we?”
“Unless he’s abandoned the cart,” Vree muttered, pulling the sweat-damp silk away from her skin in a futile attempt to find cooler air.
“Do you think that’s possible?”
“Anything is possible,” Gyhard growled. The offer obviously covered more than the cart.
“Anything is not possible.” Vree’s voice held Bannon’s intonation pattern.
The bard stifled a sigh. Between the brooding silences and the beating-with-a-blunt-object repartee, the mood surrounding her companions was very nearly as heavy as the weather. While the latter hung weights of heat and humidity off the body, the former dragged at the spirit. And it’s not like we were lighthearted to start with.
She would have given anything to know what had happened while she lay asleep and oblivious. Two years in the Capital have really dulled my senses. I’ve got to get out on the road more. She’d asked them both, using the morning’s travel preparations to get each of them alone, but neither would talk. Vree had closed her lips with an emphasis that suggested she was preventing Bannon from speaking, and Gyhard had coldly informed her that it was none of her business.
Perhaps not, but she was in the middle of it and couldn’t let it go.
Gyhard loved Vree. Vree was, at the very least, physically attracted to Gyhard. Although Vree should hate Gyhard because he was in Bannon’s body, it would’ve been difficult to consider him an enemy and her reactions to him would’ve been skewed from the beginning. How far skewed? And what would Bannon think about that? Actually, that last question wasn’t hard to answer.
Karlene shook her head, trying to shake the mess down into some kind of clarity. It didn’t help.
“I’m going to Sing,” she announced suddenly. It wouldn’t help straighten out the tangle, but it would make her feel as though she was actually doing something instead of merely being carried along by the turning of the Circle.
“You Sang a while ago,” Gyhard pointed out as he squelched from one hummock of grass to the next, dragging his reluctant horse along behind. “Don’t you think you should save your energy?”
“It was hours ago, and no.” Karlene drew in a deep breath of the clammy air, and Sang the four notes that would call the kigh. A few moments later, she frowned and Sang them again. Then again.
Vree turned toward the bard and found herself staring across her at Gyhard, who’d mirrored her turn.
Steadying herself on the bay’s shoulder, Karlene spun around and pointed back the way they’d come. “There! Look!”
In the distance, they could see the willows by the river bending and straightening, first one way and then the other, as though they were being brushed by a giant, invisible hand.
“That’s as far as they’ll come. We’re only a day’
s walk away and that cart’s hardly moving!” She Sang a brief, explosive gratitude, then let her head fall against the warm, solid, living flesh of the horse. He shoved at her with his nose as a few hot tears—of relief, of exhaustion, of anger, Karlene wasn’t sure—squeezed out onto his shoulder.
Vree and Gyhard stared past her a moment longer then, abruptly, both turned away, a silent question hanging between them.
What happens when we catch up?
* * * *
He stopped suddenly, cocked his head, and listened to the silence. He could hear … He could hear … No. Nothing. But just for a moment, he thought…
The cart rolled by him, one laborious inch at a time. He turned as it passed until he faced back the way they’d come. In cities and towns and villages, where lives were crammed in close together, he could sense only life. Out where lives were spread across the land, he could sense each one. He sensed a small cluster of lives up ahead and to one side. He brushed over the lives of his companions, each one bending toward him like flames in a breeze. And he touched, like a whisper in the distance, four lives following behind.
The mud made a soft wet sound as he poked his staff into it. This was a road. People traveled on roads. Who was to say that these four lives were not just simple travelers, as he was; simple travelers going home.
But there was something about them, something that made him remember old pain…
“They are demons, Kars! They are not enclosed by the Circle!” The teacher raised the rod again and again. And again. “Sing to these demons and remove yourself from the Circle! Or surrender your voice to the truth!”
He surrendered his voice to the screaming, the only truth that he could find.
“Fa … ther?”
He turned to see Kait staring at him from her new position at the back of the cart, a shadow of concern lying over her face. “I’m all right, child,” he told her, managing to find a reassuring smile. He let it drop when she lowered her gaze, and he looked past her at the young man by her side.
He remembered staring deeply into those incredible, luminous eyes and seeing love stare back. He couldn’t see it now, but he would as soon as they were safely home. He knew he would.
