by Emerson, Ru
"No word,” he said. His voice sounded strained.
"You all right?"
"Don't worry about me; find the blue-lights."
"I'm working on it,” Jennifer snapped. A moment later, she came up with a pair of them. “Here. God knows where the third is; two had better do us.” Robyn, her eyes angry, came back to grab them and marched back to the front, where she handed one to Aletto. “Get the mule moving; the rest of you go on. Dahven, stay back with me, will you?"
"What—?” Lialla began.
"Nothing,” Jennifer interrupted her sharply. “I can't work Thread from horseback, remember? Will you please stay with the wagon?” Lialla, her face a pale and unreadable blotch in windblown black scarves, rode on in stiff-backed silence. Dahven rode up and reined in. Jennifer looked up at him. “Well?"
"I said nothing,” he replied. “Is something wrong?"
"I don't know.” She sighed. “I'm snarling, aren't I? Everyone wants to argue; it drives me frantic. I don't know if anything's wrong, but somehow it doesn't feel right—oh, hell, that doesn't make any sense. I want to check it but I'm not going to stand back here in a Thread-trance by myself."
"You certainly aren't,” Dahven said vigorously. “Do what you have to. Shall I stay up here, or is there something I can do to help?"
In spite of herself, Jennifer laughed quietly. “Don't sound so meek; it doesn't suit you. Stay where you are and keep that damned beast still; for once I'm going to lean on you.” She let him take her reins, caught hold of his knee to steady herself and closed her eyes.
Thread wanted to evade her at first—too many thoughts cluttering her mind, too much going on. Hard to concentrate. Finally she let go of Dahven's leg, sat in the road and began simply breathing: count of three, in; count of three, out. She was only vaguely aware of Dahven drawing the horses away from her. The Thread she wanted—red, thick stuff, and that yellow Neri had shown her, both caught up together, twisted together into a temporary, doubly thick rope. The Sikkreni were following them: fourteen men on horses. They weren't as far away as she would have liked, but the bicolored twist of Thread let her judge distance much better than the red alone ever had. It would take a hard burst of speed for the guardsmen to take them tonight, and they weren't taking the chance of riding that hard. She suspected they had a lead man riding or walking ahead also.
But they weren't her main concern—there was something, or someone, else. A familiar sensation of being—watched? Was Jadek once again readying a Light spell? But he was easy to stop, if that was all—at least, if he hadn't already located them exactly. “Dahven,” she said urgently.
"Jennifer?"
"Hum. Or sing. Don't stop.” With her fingers woven in the stuff of night, she could sense his surprise and confusion, but after a moment, he began singing, softly, something that might have been one of those he'd sung for her before, “It blocks a Triad,” she added; it was awkward, trying to speak with so many sensations vibrating her fingertips.
Jadek. It wasn't Jadek, or his Triad. Or any of the odd magic that had come from the Thukar's tower, neither Light nor Thread. Something—Dahven's singing somehow made her certain of that, something it blocked or changed in her perception.
Something else, then. But there was no sign of habitation for miles about; if there had once been bandits along this road, villages like the English coastal ones of her own world a hundred or so years earlier—wreckers, who lived by attacking merchants and taking their goods—there was no such village now. Not within her grasp. Far up the road, a faint jangle on the edge of her ability to sense, something that might have been Enardi's inn, run by an outland woman.
Something that caused unease and yet left no trace in Thread—Jennifer leaped to her feet, snatched the reins from Dahven's hand and threw herself into the saddle. The others were already a distance ahead, the blue-lights scarcely visible; the wind had picked up and what stars there might have been were muffled behind thick clouds. She brought the horse around and urged it forward at the best speed she dared, clutching two-handed at its mane for balance while she tested the ground with Thread. She couldn't keep that up for long; it would make her physically ill. But—
"What?” Dahven was at her side, hand outstretched to catch her when she swayed in the saddle. She let go of the Thread, shook her head to try and clear it, not too successfully.
"There's—I think maybe Casimaffi didn't lie, I think there's a Host, not far ahead. Something familiar about the feel of things.” She swallowed, grimaced at the taste of bile. “God, we really needed this. Chris! Birdy!"
The wind was rising, making it increasingly hard to be heard. But Robyn's hearing was phenomenal; the wagon came to a halt, shifted on the uneven surface and slid sideways. Chris, with a blistering oath, threw himself from his horse and slammed his back into it. “Jeez, was that really necessary?” he demanded breathlessly. “Eddie, damnit, give me a hand with this thing, will you? Aunt Jen—"
"Can it, kid,” she snapped as she came up even with the back of the wagon bed. “I think there's a Host out there”—she waved a hand—“ahead of us, somewhere.” She took the reins to Dahven's horse as he jumped down to help lift the back of the wagon clear of disaster. He staggered back into his mount when they set it down, swore breathlessly.
"Hey, don't try for a relapse, we got this under control, dude,” Chris said. “You better keep a hand on Jen and an eye out for funny lights, you know?"
"Got it,” Dahven said. He was a little slow in remounting, but his face was so grim, even in the faint light, that Jennifer prudently said nothing. “I know about the lights."
Lialla materialized from somewhere on the other side of the wagon. “I don't suppose you remembered anything about stopping them,” she began.
"I've been trying to think.” He drew a little away from them all, set his elbows on the saddlebow and let his head fall into his hands. “One of the caravaners, coming across the north way from Dro Pent three summers ago. Something about—that wasn't it, either."
"I'll watch for lights,” Jennifer said as Chris and Edrith guided the back of the wagon over another rough spot. “You think."
* * * *
Moments later, the mule stopped, and absolutely refused to go on. When he did move, it was to plunge sideways half a dozen steps before he froze once more. The wagon lurched, and something cracked loudly. There was a very uncomfortable silence, which Enardi finally broke. “All right,” he said. “Chris, help me unfasten him; we can pull the wagon over—"
"Absolutely not!” Lialla said sharply. “Didn't you hear what Jen said? There's a Spectral—"
"I heard!” Enardi snapped back. His voice was nearly as high and shaky as hers by now. “I—he won't go! And even if he did, the wagon can't! Didn't you hear that? It was the wheel or the axle; it can't go anywhere like that, can it? We have to unload it, we gotta get it off the road, get out of here—"
"The damned mule won't go!” Lialla shouted.
"It might if it's unhitched!” Enardi yelled. “If not, I'll turn it loose!"
"Hey, chill out!” Chris's bellow cut across both now very shrill voices. “Ernie, you know the harness better than anyone else; go unhook it, then leave the stupid thing with Mom and come help us divide the stuff in the back. We can worry later about who carries what, right?"
"I'll—” Aletto began. Chris cut him off.
"You come help us figure out what's back here and get it on the horses so we can go, will you?” To his credit, Aletto left the mule in Robyn's hands and came back at once. “Jen, you're watching, right? Li, you'd better stay on the horse, get up front. I'll call you back when we've got stuff for you to carry."
"I—” For one moment, Chris thought Lialla might argue with him. From the anger in that one word, Lialla thought so, too. She turned then, rode on past Robyn and drew in, a dark shadow in mid-road, only the movement of scarves in the stiff breeze marking who and where she was. Robyn, motionless as the mule, was barely visible at all.
&n
bsp; Chris and Edrith were in the bed of the wagon, Chris checking ties, hurriedly stuffing loose items into bags, handing things to Edrith to fasten onto first Chris's horse, then his own. Aletto, seated cross-legged up front, was locating items that had rolled under the seat and into the corners, by feel, and passing them to Chris. He swore hard as he felt along the rough boards and ran a splinter under his thumbnail. “That's it."
"It's good enough,” Chris said. “Jen?"
"Still nothing."
"Look, are you certain—?"
"I'm not certain of anything, kid, I just know what it felt like, and you're the one who said he'd rather be overcautious than dead."
"What I said was—never mind,” Chris said stiffly. “That damned mule moving yet?"
"One step into me,” Robyn said. “I think it scared him as much as it did me; he did a little dance sideways but now he won't go again."
"Swell,” Chris muttered. “All right, the wagon's empty. Can we get a couple of us under the back end? Ernie, maybe you can pull, help us get it off the road? Personally, I'd like to leave it here but I guess it wouldn't slow those guys down and it isn't mine."
"I—I—” Enardi seemed incapable of anything but a high-pitched, faint stutter, and after a moment, he gave that up.
"It's all cool, guy,” Chris assured him. “No one's really gonna get us, right?"
"Light!” Lialla shouted.
5
"There is not!” Robyn's voice soared above Lialla's, drowning whatever else the woman said. Aletto caught her arm, then both shoulders and pulled her close; he said something against her hair no one else could hear.
Lialla was standing in her stirrups, staring intently north from the road. “I saw a light up there! And I don't sense anything human anywhere near it; that means a Host! And it means one any time now! Let's get away from here, get the rest of the things out of that wagon—"
"They're out,” Chris yelled. “Ernie, pull, damnit! We gotta get this thing off the road—"
"Leave it,” Dahven said curtly. He drew his horse back from the wagon, looked at Jennifer. A faint breeze lifted the hair from her forehead and moved clouds away from the moon. Her face was pale in the sudden light. “Get off your horse, lead it past,” he told her. “If it's a Host, you don't want to be trapped back here, or between the wagon and the drop."
"You don't either, Dahven!"
"I'll come in a minute. I remember something, I think, someone from Gray Fisher's told me."
Jennifer shook her head. “You think?” Without turning away from him, she shouted, “Chris, get the wagon off the road, fast! Lialla—"
"I'm watching,” she yelled back. “Aletto, remember last time, get back on your horse!"
"I—Robyn—” Jennifer heard that much of his spluttering reply, his voice tense with irritation and worry, equally mixed.
"That was my fault last time,” Robyn said sharply. “Aletto, I'm all right, see? Where's the reins—thanks."
Worry about one thing at a time, Jennifer told herself. “Dahven, look,” she said. “I've seen a Host in action. Trust me, this is not the time to be fiddling with possibilities! Let's get away from here—"
"And if it follows us?” Dahven looked past her; Jennifer heard the wagon creak ominously, heard Chris swear furiously as something crashed down, hard. Robyn for once didn't say anything; from the sounds of it she had her hands full with her horse and the mule.
"What if—well, but, they don't do that,” Jennifer retorted. And, in a smaller voice, “Do they?” Dahven shrugged.
"How would I know? I was told a Host hunts in one locale, but it can be a damned large locale; what if we're just on the edge of that? And what if it's really true that a Host doesn't quit without taking a life, once it's scented its quarry?” He waited. Jennifer folded her arms across her chest, as much to fight a sudden chill as for effect, and met his eyes squarely. Behind her, Lialla said, “Nothing yet—” and Chris, his voice tense with the effort of shoving at the wagon, grunted, “Maybe it was a star, a low one?"
"Inside the line of hills?” Lialla demanded sarcastically. “I'm going a few paces down the road; maybe I can see farther up that way."
"Suit yourself,” Chris mumbled; only Jennifer heard him—and Edrith, who bit back an explosive snort of laughter. Dahven was still watching her, waiting her out.
"I can't convince you, can I?” she asked finally. He shook his head. “I don't like it."
"Who does?” He glanced behind her. “Wagon's moving."
"Good,” Jennifer said calmly. “Then you won't be difficult about my sticking with you—"
He shook his head. “I won't waste the time right now.” He glanced in Lialla's direction, bent down to check the surface of the road, walked back a few paces. Jennifer dismounted, took the reins to his horse and led the two a short distance away. Dahven straightened, fought a cough, cleared his throat noisily and held out a hand. “Your staff—the bo. Let me have it.” She fumbled it loose from its place along the horse's side and pressed the end into his palm. “Thank you. Damn, I'd give a lot for light."
"Light. Maybe I can manage a little."
The horses were nervous, but not unduly so; they stood still when she twisted the ends of the reins together and set them on the road, put her foot over them. The handbag was in its usual place, fastened to the saddlebow; she had followed habit, fortunately, and hooked the little flashlight back on the keychain that was in turn attached to the shoulder strap. She shoved the switch forward with her thumb, flashed the light onto the track. It was weaker than it had been the night they'd lost Chris in the desert; slightly yellow now, but still functioning. Dahven glanced at it in momentary surprise, then turned his attention to the figure he was scratching in the dust. She trained the pool of light there, squatting down to give him the best intensity, recapturing the reins from under her high-top.
"It's a set of four looped circles,” Dahven mumbled. “Once it's done, I erase all the inside lines, then do another one in the middle.” He cast her an apologetic grin, teeth flashing in the yellowish light. “It's what I remember. There's more; maybe the drawing will remind me."
"I hope you have the time,” Jennifer began; she came half upright to glance nervously at the slope north of the road. Dahven made a vexed little sound and she brought the light back into place. “Sorry. Chris? That wagon—"
"Almost,” he panted. “Eddie, can you hold the weight while I get my back into this? Ernie, are you pulling?"
The response was so high, breathless and shrill Jennifer would never have known it for Enardi's. “I'm—I'm—I'm—!"
"Hey, guy!” Chris drew a deep breath and somehow managed to sound reassuring. “No big deal, right? Let's just get this wagon out of the way so your old man doesn't ground you for the next year and a half, right? It's cool, Ernie, trust me, c'mon, now.” The strain of the lift showed in his voice; the wagon creaked and something hit the road with a clank. “Damn—okay, you guys, let's move it.” Jennifer glanced over her shoulder to see the wagon move in a series of uneven jerks; it came to rest most of the way out of the two dusty ruts that separated the road from the surrounding land, and the back corner went down lower than it should have.
"Damn, we lost the whole wheel,” Edrith said feelingly.
Chris groaned. “I know; it bounced off my foot, I think I broke a toe. Ernie, you all right up there?” Silence. “Ernie?"
"Light!” Lialla's shrill cry brought them up short.
"I see it,” Robyn shouted. “North—it just went out, no, there it is again—!"
"Watch for me,” Dahven told Jennifer tersely. “Steady the light."
"Got it.” She came up onto one knee, peering up the now blue-white lit, brushy hillside. Somewhere along the line, they had left the steep cliffs behind; here the land sloped up into rounded hills. There were narrow gullies and washes everywhere, most only visible as lines, making the terrain extremely treacherous. All the same, the riders who bore down on them were moving at a very f
ast trot.
An awkward trot. Jennifer squinted, shook her head, could make no sense of what she saw until Chris laughed rather wildly. “Oh, man? First camels and now donkeys? Gimme a break!"
"Watch yourself!” Robyn screamed at him. Jennifer tensed, eyes fixed on the riders. Her thigh muscles were already beginning to cramp but she was afraid to move, afraid movement might shift the flashlight from Dahven's drawing at a critical moment.
There were seven of them: short, dark and very wild-looking men whose legs dangled almost to the ground on either side of the sturdy little long-eared donkeys. Instead of cutlasses, most of them carried long, broad-bladed knives. “Try to hold steady!” Dahven yelled.
"Trying!” she shouted back. “They're going east of the wagon—gone past!” She could hear the clatter of small hooves across rock farther along the road, could smell what she would have sworn was stale sweat, woodfire smoke. They passed close enough for her to see the nearest man's oily curls, the unshaven face and thick moustache, a gleam of teeth—the shining lines spreading out from the long knife edge where it had been recently honed. At the same time, unnervingly, she saw Robyn and Aletto on the other side of him—through him. The bright, intent eyes were wide open but seemed fixed on a point just in front of the donkey's ears. They bounced down the slope toward the sea—and simply vanished. Silence, except for someone's whistling pant, and the scratch of Jennifer's bo in the dirt as Dahven drew his figure.
"Geeks on donkeys.” Chris was still giggling. “What, are they filming a remake of The Corsican Brothers out here?"
"Can it, kid!” Robyn snapped. “And pay attention, all right?"
"Hey, just trying to lighten things up, okay?” He was still laughing when Aletto pointed downhill and said, “There—light!"
"Got it,” Lialla replied tensely. “Everyone pay attention!"
Edrith slid along the side of the wagon, heading toward her. “Anyone see Enardi?"
Chris stopped laughing. “Not—oh, jeez. That didn't get him, did it?” He started up the road, stopped as Robyn shrieked in sudden surprise. The riders were maybe twenty feet away, coming up the slope fast, straight for her. Aletto grabbed his reins and hers, kicked his horse hard. It bolted down the road, hers of necessity following. Lialla followed; Chris grabbed Edrith and rolled him away from the front of the wagon. Both fell.
