Tarbaby Trouble [Mudflat 1]

by Phoebe Matthews

  Bingo, the drawer was not empty. It held several small vials. I took them out, one by one, and opened them. The first left a sticky coating of oil on my fingers. Even holding it at arm's length, I could smell the perfume. I had never been close to Alakar or Ober, didn't know what scent they used, but it was pretty much overwhelming and what I'd expect of Erlan's girls. I wiped my hands on my tunic to dry them.

  The next vial was dry pottery sealed with a cork. I worked the cork loose and shook the vial. Liquid sloshed in it. It didn't seem to have any odor at all. It could have been water, but I doubted Ober would leave anything as harmless as water sealed up in such a small vial.

  Poison? Possibly.

  After setting down the vial, I picked up a small-lidded box made of hammered metal. Turning it slowly in my hands, I found the almost invisible hinges, then ran a fingertip along its opposite side until I touched the latch. Such a little box, easy to tip, and did I want its contents making contact with my skin?

  Perhaps it was a harmless face powder. Or perhaps it was something else.

  Nothing brings out curiosity like boredom, waiting and stifled fear. I put the box on the table, held it carefully by its edges, and pried up the latch.

  The box did indeed contain powder, a white powder, nothing meant to color the complexion. On the streets of Seattle white powder could be almost anything and probably not legal. As far as I knew, there was nothing like drugs among these people. Mead seemed to be their only indulgence. Oh right, that and hacking away at anyone in hacking distance with their broadswords.

  Bracing myself with my hands on the tabletop, I leaned over the box and breathed in very carefully. Again, there was no scent.

  Tarvik had been furious when he banished Ober, hissing, “Will you stay to tell my father that your daughter came to my room and mixed a drink for me? Shall I show him the locket she wears with its traces of the powder she added to my drink?"

  Was this more of that kind of powder? A drug of sorts? Anything from a sleeping aid to a mood changer to a ‘knock ‘em dead’ potion?

  Didn't want perfume, especially that stuff, so I put the little bottle back in the drawer, then slid it closed. It was harmless but nothing I cared to have sticking to my skin.

  The other two items, the vial of clear liquid and the little metal box filled with powder, might be anything. Until I knew what to do with them, I might as well keep them. I closed both containers and dropped them into my pocket.

  After that, I wandered out into the hallway, ran my hands along the rough stones, glanced at the doorsill and wished the old dog was there to talk to. But the last time I saw the dog, Tarvik had it in front of him on his horse.

  Tarvik's room was next. I went into it, knowing it would hold very little. Again, the tapestries were gone, the walls bare, the secret entrance closed, the edges of the door invisible among the many lines between stones. A long dark table remained against a wall, nothing else. Now I knew about hidden drawers, I crossed the room and headed straight to the table. Without crawling under the table I was able to reach below its top, find the drawer and slide it out.

  More vials and boxes. At first I was startled, wondering what they might contain. Didn't think Tarvik mixed magic potions. The guy liked to cook, so I would believe spices, but that face was all too open and expressive to be a mask for a mage. And then, through the dusky light, I saw the neat row of brushes lying in the dark drawer. They had long wooden handles and thin bristles, artist's brushes in several sizes. When I opened the first vial, I found a thick purple powder. The next contained green. There were a half dozen little metal boxes, each containing a thick paste in a different color.

  Paints.

  I turned to the opposite wall, the corner that used to hold the pile of sheepskins and blankets that were Tarvik's bed. Those were gone.

  From a high window slit a pale line of light cut across the wall. I could barely make out the drawings that decorated his room, a collection of wild animals and a picture of Tarvik's horse Banner. They were small drawings filled in with color against the lightened stones. I wandered over to study them more closely, took a moment to look at each drawing. They were pretty, neatly done with the fur of each animal carefully painted in sure strokes. I ran my fingers lightly over them, not wanting to disturb or damage them. It was comforting, in that empty room, to touch something familiar. Had a castle artist done the paintings to brighten the room when Tarvik was a little boy?

  As I turned toward the doorway I saw another painting, one I did not remember, on the wall between the corner and the door. I went toward it, noticed the dark lines framing a pale oval. In the shadows my eyes had to adjust to the lack of light. Or was it that my mind didn't want to accept what I saw?

  The dark frame was flowing hair, long dark hair, moving as though in a breeze to circle the pale oval. That oval was my face, my eyes and nose and mouth. The exact curve of my eyebrows and length of lashes, the line of shadow beneath my cheekbones, a surprisingly accurate likeness right down to the slight frown that I must admit is my normal expression.

  But what was a drawing of me doing here on Tarvik's wall, near the door, painted in colors that carefully matched my own skin and hair? It was spooky. I turned slowly to look at the opposite end of the wall where Tarvik's bed used to be. Lying on his bed, he'd be looking at my face.

  And who'd want him to do that? No one at all except Tarvik himself. The painting was recent. It certainly couldn't have been here when he let Alakar into his room and she poisoned him. Though if it had been here then, hmm, no wonder she was willing to do that.

  No, that wasn't possible. Nance and I and the magician had been here after Alakar had drugged him. We carried him out. One of us would have noticed the picture. There was only one person with access to this room, who knew me without the paints and powders and elaborate hairstylings of the temple, and studied my face enough to draw it. So he must also be the artist of the charming animal drawings. I don't know which bit of information surprised me more, that the guy was an artist or that he wanted my picture on his wall.

  I left the castle and circled back toward the temple courtyard. On my walk around the stable, I paused at the door. It was empty like every place else, no horses, no blankets, no reins. The bins were swept clean of feed, the dirt floor raked. All that was left here of the horses was a water trough, dark beneath the cracking film of ice and the lingering odor of their warm bodies. Damn, now I was so lonely I missed the horses.

  "A girl afraid of horses,” Tarvik had said and laughed at me. Wherever they both were, Nance and Tarvik, I hoped they were far enough away to be safe. If we all survived Erlan, I needed to leave this country quickly because I was beginning to think of Nance and Tarvik as close friends. Oh sure, might as well imagine us all back in Mudflat and me saying, “Let me introduce you to my new friends, the barbarians."

  On the third night after the evacuation, I built my fire in the temple courtyard, ate my really boring supper which consisted of the last onion browned in oil and then simmered slowly until it was a pale imitation of onion soup. If Erlan didn't finish me off, my own cooking soon would. Then, as Lor had instructed me, I went to the castle. It stood on the highest ground. The thicket trees, a pleasant clump of tangled branches in the daylight, at night reached out like many-fingered hands. Where once hundreds of cookfires had dotted the surrounding hills and clouded the air with smoke, now the empty huts made shadow patches on the starlit slopes. The silence pressed in like winter cold.

  I ran to the castle, hurried past the gates and turned to climb the narrow stone stairs that the guards used to mount the outer wall.

  At the top, I stood slowly and did not look down. I never liked to stand at the edge of a high place with nothing to grasp. A balcony with a railing is okay. A cliff is not okay. The top of the wall was worse than a cliff. There was no place to step back or turn away. It was just wide enough to walk on, no more. I walked slowly, my feet feeling the way.

  My skin chilled beyond the effe
cts of the winter night, goading me to drop to my knees and crawl. To do so would be to tangle my hands and legs in my long cloak. That or drop the cloak and crawl in my short tunic. If I did that, I would soon be numbed by the cold stones. As I had done for the last three nights, I wound the cloak tightly around myself and shuffled slowly along the wall until I reached the far corner.

  Once there, I stood straight, waited for my heart to stop banging against my ribs, and stared into the darkness. And this time I saw what Lor had said I would see.

  Where a far ridge broke its line in a shadowed valley, I saw the sign of some long gone river that had once cut its path through the hills and flatlands, then disappeared. It left its bed, now dry and cracked beneath hundreds of changing seasons, to form a hard road. In that place where the road widened, I saw now the flicker of night fires. Erlan's army. Lor had pointed out the spot and said it was about a day's march away. They would break camp at sunrise and reach the city before the next sunset.

  Staring west I narrowed my eyes against the windy darkness and searched for another fire.

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  Chapter 18

  Two days earlier, a lifetime ago, Nance and Lor left me.

  "We willl be back before Erlan arrives,” Nance had cried, clinging to my hands. “Stargazer, come with us. You must not remain here alone."

  I said, “If Erlan returns to an empty city, he will trail Tarvik."

  "But how can you stop him by yourself? He will kill you, Stargazer!"

  Tears brimmed. In another moment she would have thrown her arms around me and refused to leave me. As much as I might prefer to let her drag me away with them, that wasn't a choice. Not to sound conceited, but the way things were, I was the last best chance for all those poor people to survive. No more than a chance but it was better than the odds without me.

  Standing straight and looking down at her, my face stiff so she would not see my fear, I said, “Think about it, Nance. Tarvik didn't harm me when he first found me. Neither did Kovat. I have secret magic, stuff I haven't shown you. I can make Erlan believe what I tell him. I'm okay here and you'll be back in time to help me save everyone else. Now go on, hurry."

  She sniffed and rubbed at her eyes with her plump fists. “But what if we are late?"

  Lor pulled tight the last strap, tying their supplies to the two horses. Without waiting for Nance to think up new arguments, he grabbed her about the waist and heaved her onto Pacer, as easily as though she were a bundle of sheepskins.

  While she bent away from us to straighten out the animal's reins, he said, “I will light our signal where you said."

  "Lor, stay out of the city until after you see Erlan leave. If he stays or follows Tarvik, take Nance and escape."

  He glared at me from beneath his shaggy brows. “She is safe with me,” he muttered.

  Of course she was. If our plan failed, he would take Nance higher into the mountains. Nance told me that was where he came from, up near the snow line, where his small tribe knew how to hide and remain beyond the reach of warring armies.

  "Beyond Kovat's lands and so far toward sunset, even the elves don't go there,” was how she put it. Okay, I accepted that without trying to understand.

  Now I stared west toward the exact spot where the sun would set tonight beneath the hill. All I could see was shadow overflowing shadow.

  As I headed back toward the temple, I began to doubt my scheme. At least Nance and Lor were out of it. I would delay Erlan as long as I could to allow Tarvik to reach a distant valley and set up some sort of defense. Beyond that, there wasn't much else I could do for them. The trick I planned seemed more and more hopeless to me. All trick, no magic.

  If his approaching army had crossed routes with Ober's train, he would know Tarvik knew their plans. He would know from Ober that I helped betray her. Fat chance I'd have of conning the man.

  In the temple courtyard my fire burned down to embers. I sat next to it and leaned forward with my face and hands stretched toward the flickering heat until I kind of hypnotized myself into forgetting what was coming down. Curling up in a sheepskin, I slept fitfully until daybreak. When I woke I felt ill and feverish, not capable of controlling any situation.

  If I were a barbarian I would have consoled myself with thoughts of an heroic death that would take me straight to the Sun God. Oh hell, what do I know? Okay, I know astronomy, and I know the sun is this big hot gas thing, but does that have to mean it isn't a god? How comforting it would be to believe death would release my soul to go live in some magic place above the clouds, no more unpaid bills, no more Decko brothers.

  In the mountains the brilliant winter sky was free of city smoke and exposed every empty hut and deserted path. I walked back and forth in front of the castle watching for a fire glint or a wisp of smoke.

  Nothing. Nance and Lor had not returned in time. Just as well, I decided, because my plan was going to fail. This way they were out of it.

  Okay, it was up to me to do a con job on old Erlan, make him fall on his ugly face in awe of my magical and priestly powers. Up to me. Last chance.

  Nance herself couldn't have twisted my hair above my head with more care. I stood in front of the altar with the small mirror Nance left for me, glancing first at the wall painting and then at my reflection. I jabbed away with the pins and combs, unsure how Nance managed to make my hair stay put in a pile on my head, until my arms ached from keeping them raised so long.

  Extra rubber bands would have been a godsend, a quickie route to a double pony tail or braids, easy to coil on the top of my head and pin into place. No matter what I did, tendrils always broke loose to fall across my face or down my neck.

  The bank manager hated my hair, along with my clothes, thought they were too casual, too messy, and I resented that, but man, he never once considered beheading me. I didn't know back then how lucky I was.

  Without gold threads or jewels, all carefully wrapped and carried off with the temple treasures, I had only my hair and paints to work with, so if Erlan hated slipped tendrils, I was in big trouble. By the time I pinned the last strand into place, tears of frustration burned my eyelids. I blinked them away and bent over Nance's pots of shaded liquids and powders.

  When I couldn't think of one more trick to make me resemble the portrait of the Daughter, I hid away the paints and combs, left my wool cloak in Nance's chamber, pulled my velvet temple robe over my tunic, and returned to the outer gate to watch for Erlan. The afternoon sun shone back at itself from the metal trimmings on the advancing army.

  They moved slowly, a walking pace of men burdened with heavy loads strapped to their backs. They would reach the city before sunset. Although I knew there was nothing to see, I peered once more toward the spot where Lor had said he would set his signal. Then I returned to the temple. If the planets offered me a choice, I had been unable to read it in my horoscope.

  My only hope lay in Erlan's planets. At this time they offered him nothing. He would face this challenge and win or lose on his own decisions. He had neither Kovat's strength nor Tarvik's courage. Erlan was a superstitious man. I counted on that, didn't know if it would be enough.

  In the late afternoon when the procession reached the opposite ridge, the army slowed. Now I could see Erlan at the lead on Kovat's large horse, dressed in fur and leather, wearing a war helmet. Guards in tattered gear walked on each side of him. Even the horse looked exhausted. What did Erlan expect to meet? Did he think a parade, led by templekeepers and his wife and daughter would come out to greet him? I saw no sign of Ober, in her fur-lined cloak, riding near him, but she might be wrapped in something dark and riding at the end of the line.

  Erlan's men trudged up a nearby hill to search those tumbled down empty huts of wood and stone. They went slowly at first, peering into huts, entering, coming back out into the daylight and turning from side to side to search the yards between the huts.

  After the first few searches they moved more quickly, hundreds of men spreading o
ut across the hill, ducking through doorways, rushing back outside, gesturing widely. I could hear their shouts if not their words.

  What they found everywhere was nothing.

  Floors were swept clean and every sign of goat or chicken gone. No piles of firewood, no sheepskins. Only empty huts separated by dead vegetable patches and small twisted shrubs. Not that I had gone over to the lower hills and looked because I hadn't. I'd never been in one of those places. They weren't open to me when the families were in them, templekeepers didn't wander the city, and now they would be empty and kind of spooky to walk through alone.

  While the men delayed their return to look through every shack, I stood in the gate's shadow and studied them, noting the torn clothing, the marching boots worn to shreds, the small number of horses carrying supplies. Although the size of Erlan's army had dwindled, his was still a huge following to feed.

  I hurried back to the temple, left open all the gates and doors, and lit the candles in the ceiling lamps. Their light barely touched the walls, so the painted faces above the altar shone dimly in the shadows, the painted eyes luminous. I stood beneath the portraits, faced the door and waited. I did not wish Erlan to hurry, but if he took too long I could die of fear before he arrived. Or the candles might burn away to nothing but sputters of smoke.

  Think. Think. Was there anything at all in his horoscope that I'd missed?

  The confusion of arguing voices approached up the hill. They came slowly and I could hear the horses’ hooves and the marching boots on the frozen path, moving in a patterned steady beat, then stopping. They shuffled in broken rhythms and spoke over one another. The march began again, louder, reached the leveled hilltop, stopped by the empty stables, and then headed toward me.

  My heartbeat doubled while the sound of boots outside the temple slowed, hesitated, took a lifetime to cross the courtyard and then stepped into the temple.

  Okay, time for my Oscar-winning performance.

  Raising my arms toward Erlan as he paused in the doorway surrounded by his guards, I willed my knees to quit shaking and cried, “Welcome back, my lord Erlan. The Daughter of the Sun has foreseen your safe return."