She scowled. “I know it. Danu! Do you think Her Majesty didn’t nearly take my head off for it?”
I took the flask from her, definitely needing more. “You might as well tell me everything. Especially as it’s likely to have bearing on the rest of our journey.”
Jepp ran her hands over her short hair and Zynda watched our exchange with interest. I handed her the flask.
“It shouldn’t have been a big deal!” Jepp insisted. Always a bad sign, when someone started with the defensive. “He made it clear he was attracted. I sure was. He offered. I accepted. We spent a sizzling-hot night together—”
“Where?”
She frowned at me. “Does it matter?”
“It might. Indulge me.”
“His bed.”
I groaned. Worse and worse.
“Captain Harlan asked that, too. What’s the deal?”
“I don’t know that there is one. Except that there’s this edict. He hasn’t renewed his invitation?”
“Well, after he caught me with Brandur, he made it pretty clear that—”
She stopped when I held up a hand. “You had sex with Brandur, too? After a night and then some in Kral’s bed?”
“It wasn’t immediately after. Hours and hours. At least eight. Give me that cursed flask.”
Zynda passed it with an admiring gleam in her eye. “You have some stamina, sister, I’ll give you that.”
“What? I was restless. Too much sitting on my ass recuperating.” She sneered the word. “It’s not like I’d made either of them any promises. Brandur didn’t mind. Much. Though he did want me to make it up to him.” She sounded entirely too pleased with herself for someone who was supposed to be sorry.
“Neither is Brandur a Dasnarian prince who invited you to his bed.” No wonder Ursula had been so much crankier than usual right before we left. Not just worried about me, then. But I thought Jepp was wrong about the queen sending Jepp with me as a form of exile. She would have predicted Jepp’s presence would annoy Kral. Unless she’d done it on purpose. Ursula rarely did anything by accident.
“What is the significance of Kral inviting Jepp into his bed?” Zynda asked. “For us it means no more than a convenient place to be together.”
“For most of us, too,” I told her. “But Dasnaria has much more arcane cultural rules—particularly as regards the role of women.”
Jepp made a disparaging sound. “They can be real jerks about it, too.”
“I don’t doubt that. I’ve been trying to study what I can.” This might explain some of Kral’s circuitous warnings earlier, especially about me instructing my companions. As if I’d be able to instruct Jepp in anything at all. “You have to remember that the Vervaldr we know have been away from Dasnaria for many years. They’ve experienced many cultures and have adapted to and more or less understand that our ways are different. In no small part due to the leadership of Captain Harlan, who is an unusually flexible thinker.”
“Am I back in school?”
“Shut up, Jepp—I want to hear this. Keep going, Dafne.”
“I’m not perfectly certain, because so much of it is embedded in their society and so not always explained clearly in the texts, but it seems that women have essentially two roles to choose from. I use the word ‘choose’ lightly because I’m not sure the decision is up to them. Women are always either a wife, which is a respected role, as she then has access to everything that belongs to her husband—reputation, rank, wealth.”
Jepp had started to catch on, looking queasy, though that could have been all the whiskey. “And the not-wives?”
“Women don’t appear to have much of any rights on their own, can’t own property or work to make a living. So they’re entirely dependent on the men in their lives to provide for them. A woman who has a father or brothers is provided for until she marries—which seems to be a complicated arrangement involving many contracts and ceremonies. If she doesn’t marry, she can accept the protection of a man, who will commit to caring for her in exchange. That agreement is much simpler. The word they use is ‘rekjabrel,’ which translates more or less as ‘bed slave.’ He offers her his bed, symbolic of giving her a place to live and be safe.”
“Danu’s tits,” Jepp whispered in horror.
“Exactly. It’s possible he thought you were exclusively his.”
“People don’t own other people,” she snapped.
“They do in Dasnaria, in a manner of speaking.” I shrugged, took the flask, and saluted Jepp. “Always pays to do your research!”
Jepp gave me a sour look. “Aren’t you going to tell me this is why it’s perilous to ignore a librarian?”
She’d snorted at the inscription earlier, when she showed me how to hide the little daggers on my person without slicing myself. A more patient teacher than Ursula, Jepp had been most helpful. I did like her and she didn’t deserve me making light of her situation.
“I’ll do what I can to smooth things over with the general,” I told her. “I doubt you’re in any serious or permanent trouble. You offended his pride and now he’s repaying you by keeping you from being with any of his men.”
“The old ‘if I can’t have you, no one will’ thing,” Zynda agreed.
“But he could have me!” Jepp protested. “If he’d just bend his cursed rules a little . . .”
“Do you want my advice?”
“Even Ursula listens to your advice,” Jepp complained. “How can I say no?”
“Then I think you should let it go. You had your night and the aftermath went badly. Call it a bad deal and move on. It’s not like you want to go be his bed slave in Dasnaria for the rest of your life, right?”
Jepp pretended to look thoughtful. “It was a really good night.”
I groaned and Zynda burst out laughing. Jepp grinned at us. “All right. You have a point. At least I’ll please Danu with my celibacy until this journey is done. Maybe the sacrifice will appease Her to turn my luck around.”
We could all use some of that.
7
The barge took us down the river at what felt like a stately pace, the brown water flowing with few ripples and the banks crowded with overhanging trees, brilliant in their fiery autumn colors. When we reached a break in the foliage, however, we passed the dock or town far more swiftly than a horse would go.
When Jepp let me take a break from knife practice, I mostly sat on the deck, wrapped in my warm cloak, with my map and journal, enjoying the cloudless blue sky and noting the various villages we passed. Mohraya and then Avonlidgh on the right bank, the broad expanses of Duranor on the left. It made for peaceful travel, especially in the afternoon, with the great river flowing silently and all the Dasnarians napping.
A peace abruptly broken in the most alarming way.
The scream—a man’s scream, which is somehow more unsettling—startled me out of my thoughts, and I jumped to my feet. Jepp, who’d been napping nearby, had moved so fast she already stood between me and the increasing shouts, her blades drawn and body coiled.
“What is it?” I asked, unable to see anything, though the noises came from the downstream end of the barge.
“I don’t know and we’re not going to go look,” Jepp replied. “Where is Zynda?”
“She was bored and said she wanted to stretch her wings. I assume that means flying.”
Jepp didn’t reply to that, just watched, then cursed under her breath. “Put your things away. Have your big dagger in your hand. Be ready to run. Or jump overboard. Which means lose the cloak.”
I heard it then, as I hastened to do as she instructed, a beast roaring over the screams of men, along with shouting in a jumble of Dasnarian. A large bird, white, with a long, swooping neck, spiraled over me and landed on the deck, flashing into Zynda, who ranged herself next to Jepp, also in a fighting stance. “Trouble,” she said.
“What is that thing?” Jepp asked.
“I’ve never seen anything like it, but it just swallowed a man whole.”<
br />
Normally I’d be perfectly happy to cower behind them—and had been thus far—but curiosity got the better of me and I edged around Zynda to peek down the barge at what they watched. A violet haze rippled through the sky and water, as if emanating from some glowing thing. Then a man flew through the air, landing in the water with a splash. He began to swim for the barge, but a violet tentacle rose from the water, wrapped around his waist, and dragged him under.
“On second thought,” Jepp said, “don’t jump overboard.”
“So noted.” I sounded amazingly calm, even though the barge started tipping down, our end rising. The panicked whinnies of the horses added to the cacophony.
Jepp looked at Zynda. “Can you fly Dafne off this boat?”
“No. I don’t have an avian form big enough.”
“Besides, we’re not leaving you behind,” I said.
“If it’s a choice between getting eaten by this monster or facing Her Majesty with the news that I let you get eaten, I’ll take the monster,” Jepp replied in a grim tone. “Danu—look at them. The cursed Dasnarians are fighting it all wrong.”
“They’ve never fought a magical creature before,” Zynda said. They exchanged glances. “They need help. Advice.”
“We have to stay here. It’s our duty to protect the librarian.”
“If they all die, we go down with them and we’ve failed to protect her anyway.”
Instead of pointing out that I was standing right there, I said, “Zynda can get Kral, bring him here. You give the advice and I’ll translate.”
They only looked surprised for a moment before Zynda took off running. She came back after a long stretch of minutes during which violet tentacles pulled more men off the barge and the surface tilted enough that we had to grab handholds not to slide.
“We’ll roll straight down its maw soon enough,” Jepp predicted. “I should tie you to something.”
“The barge will break in half first,” I told her. “Then likely sink. Tying me would just ensure I’d drown.”
She grunted but didn’t disagree. The barge made groaning, creaking noises, bearing me out. “Here he comes.”
Kral jogged up, Zynda pulling him along. He gave Jepp a vicious glare. “What? We’re a little busy saving your pretty asses.”
“And fucking it up, too!” Jepp retorted in her coarsely broken Dasnarian. I stepped between them.
“General,” I said. “Jepp and Zynda have both fought magical creatures before. I suggest you listen to their advice.”
He nodded curtly.
“He needs to pull his men back,” Jepp switched to Common Tongue. “No solid ranks. Think wolves worrying a deer. Fast, sharp attacks. In and out.”
“Stop cutting off the tentacles,” Zynda added. “For each cut, two or three more grow. Pour salt on them instead to get it to release the boat.”
“Give it a decoy.” Jepp again. “It’s eating wood and men alike. Give it something big and metal that it can’t swallow. It’ll choke.”
“And use this.” Zynda handed him a blue glass ball. Then she took a knife and cut her finger, squeezing blood onto a cloth. “When you’re ready, wipe the blood on the globe and throw it down the monster’s throat. Don’t delay. Then take cover. Get the tentacles off the barge first.”
I translated as fast as I could, stumbling here and there over the terms that had never quite come up in polite conversation. When I got to the point of putting the blood on the glass ball, Kral gave me an incredulous look.
“Tala blood carries magic,” I told him. “I’d trust her.”
Without a word, he took the blood-soaked cloth, turned heel, and ran back down the barge.
“You’re welcome,” Jepp muttered, shifting restlessly, clearly wanting to join the fight.
“He listened,” Zynda told her. “See?”
Jepp hadn’t bothered to put me behind her again, so the action down at the other end became easier to follow, especially with the ranks of big men retreating back to the center. A team of five worked to break the chain to the big anchor at midship.
“Smart,” Jepp commented. “The man is a jerk, but he’s no slouch.”
Another team of Dasnarians brought out sacks of salt, knifing them open as a small crew distracted the monster, worrying at it and darting away again.
“How do you know the salt will work?” I asked.
“I don’t,” Zynda admitted. “I’m guessing. But it’s a freshwater creature and it doesn’t have scales, so the salt should burn, if nothing else.”
The results were spectacular. As soon as the soldiers poured the salt on the tentacles, deep-purple steam billowed up and an unearthly shriek filled the air. Quick as snakes disappearing into grass, the tentacles unwound from the barge and slithered into the water.
Jepp gave Zynda an impressed nod. “Good guess.”
“Tala children learn early to be careful of taking a freshwater animal form and jumping into the ocean,” she said in a wry tone. “No one makes that mistake twice.”
Muscles flexing, the men with the freed anchor carried it to the monster’s screaming maw. I couldn’t make it out very well, as it wasn’t very much above the water level. The men chanted, swinging the anchor. A bright blue flash of light sailed through the air and the men let the anchor fly. They all dropped flat in an instant, curling into balls that presented only their hard armor to the outside. Jepp reached to grab me, but Zynda stopped her.
“We’re fine here.”
For a long moment, nothing happened, except the monster thrashing, wailing like a pitiful thing, violet tentacles reaching up from the water and slapping down again. Then the air seemed to ripple, hot and then cold. A boom of unheard thunder vibrated in my bones.
And the creature was gone.
Nothing to be seen but the glasslike sheen of the river and the thick forest lining the banks.
“Good trick,” Jepp commented.
Zynda nodded, looking unhappy. I felt much the same. The monster had been beautiful in its way, and now we’d destroyed it. At least, I thought so.
“What happened to it?” I asked her. “Is it dead or . . . gone elsewhere?”
“You know how I explained that the shape-shifting can feel like parking one body in another place? That spell sent it there.”
“Oh.” It seemed a dire fate.
Jepp gave us both a disgusted look. “It was the enemy. Never feel bad for defeating an enemy that tried to kill you.”
“It didn’t actually try to kill me,” I pointed out.
“Not something you want to wait and see about,” she insisted. “Sentiment is for books and poetry. There’s no place for it in a battle with a hungry monster. Sentiment makes you hesitate, and a blink of hesitation is sometimes all the space you have between living and dying.”
“I have you,” I said, “to not hesitate for me. So thank you.”
“I will echo the thank-you,” Kral said, walking up to us and using the Common Tongue phrase as he nodded with respect to Jepp and Zynda. “It was good advice and has saved us when we might otherwise have perished. Have you more of those blue globes?”
Zynda looked amused when I translated the last. “I can make more,” she replied to me in Tala, “but tell him that it takes me much time and effort.”
I did and Kral studied her, wheels clearly turning in his head. He looked at Jepp then, grudging respect, simmering anger, and something else in his expression. Longing, perhaps. The same mix I’d seen the day before as he watched her while riding. It seemed he wanted her as much as she did him. But the rigid set of his body showed he would not unbend.
“Ask them if they would train my men in these tactics,” he said without looking at me. “It seems we have things to learn if we are to survive this journey.”
Though we debated whether to get off the river, ultimately Kral cut off the discussion by asking if there was any reason to believe, given the randomness of the reports of strange and magical creatures, we’d be less likely to
meet one on land. Given that we’d go faster on the river, we stayed that course.
Zynda, however, took a nocturnal animal form, to keep an eye out while we slept. I hadn’t known she could make spells like that. Shape-shifters and wizards, the tales always said of the Tala, and stories of the Great War implied that Salena, or others in the armies she brought from Annfwn to fight for Uorsin, had performed feats of magic. I’d seen some during my time in Annfwn, but most of the tricks I’d seen had been for entertainment—making colorful patterns in the sky and conjuring pretty toys for children—or involved the staymachs, which were shape-shifting animals guided by trainers.
So far as I knew, while Andi could control the barrier using the Heart, she couldn’t make spells like Zynda’s. But when I mentioned it again, after Kral stalked off to assess the damages to his battalion, Zynda put me off in such a way that I felt as if I’d invaded her privacy. Given that she’d been open and forthcoming about sex, I found it interesting that this topic would be off-limits. I respected it, however, much as it piqued my curiosity.
The Tala had their secrets, to be sure.
By early morning we’d reached the confluence of the Danu River and the Del, which flowed out of the mountains of Avonlidgh. It marked the nexus of three borders—the point where Duranor, Avonlidgh, and Aerron meet—presided over by the imposing bulk of Castle Avonlidgh. Though Ami preferred Windroven, where she and Prince Hugh had made their home after their marriage, Castle Avonlidgh traditionally had been the seat of the kings of Avonlidgh. It also marked the point of our debarkation, as the mighty river would begin to fracture into swamps as it crossed through the intensely dry heat of the southern coast and spread into a vast delta that led to the Sea of Elcinea.
We passed by Castle Avonlidgh, a stern edifice with little to recommend it. No wonder Ami had no affection for the place, beyond that her despised father-in-law had lived there. Was she still in residence or would they have moved on to Windroven already? Ursula had told her not to, but Ami was nothing if not stubborn. And she’d become a committed ruler. She’d want to see if the volcano posed a danger to her people.
The Pages of the Mind Page 9
