The Horsemen's Gambit bots-2

by DAVID B. COE

  "Yes," he said, refusing to flinch from her gaze. "I can do it with magic, or with a knife, or with my bare hands, if you prefer. But I will do it."

  "I don't believe you." But there was doubt in her voice, and in her dark eyes.

  "Actually, I think you do. I think you understand just how serious I am. And if I'm wrong, if you really are foolish enough to try conjuring again, you'll realize, in the moment before you die, what a terrible mistake you've made."

  Her eyes held his for a moment longer, her expression now more sullen than menacing. Then she looked away and rubbed the back of her head.

  "It hurts here," she said.

  Besh hesitated, trying to keep up with her ever-shifting moods. "Would you like me to heal you?" he asked her.

  Lici nodded, more child than demon, at least for the moment.

  Besh glanced at Sirj and shrugged. Then he cut himself again, mixed his blood with a bit of dirt, and placed his hand over the lump that had formed on the back of Lici's head. Now that he understood how to wield it, he found that he liked healing magic. Within just a short while, the lump had vanished. Lici touched the back of her head again and smiled.

  "Is that better?" Besh asked.

  "Yes."

  That was all. She didn't thank him; perhaps she remembered that he had dealt her the injury to begin with. The two men stood and helped Lici to her feet. They led her back to the cart and soon were on their way again, angling southwestward into the heart of Fal'Borna land.

  The rest of their day passed without incident. Lici asked them to stop once, again to relieve herself. Besh and Sirj were reluctant to do so, but they relented. Amazingly, Lici saw to her needs and immediately returned to the cart; the entire stop delayed them for only a few moments.

  Besh wondered if he had actually scared the woman when he spoke of killing her. It had been a ploy born of desperation; he'd had little hope that it would actually change anything. But with Lici suddenly so compliant, he had to reconsider. He said nothing to Sirj, fearing that the old witch would overhear. Still, as they resumed their travels Sirj glanced at Besh, his eyebrows raised in surprise and the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

  They ate a small supper before making ready for sleep. As usual, Besh slept first, while Sirj kept watch on Lici. In the middle of the night Sirj woke him, and Besh watched the woman until daybreak. Lici appeared to sleep through the night, though she cried out in her slumber two or three times.

  With their breakfast that next morning, they finished most of their remaining food. There were small copses scattered across the plain along streambeds and in shallow dales where they might find roots and harvest berries. Sirj had brought a snare with him, so they could hunt for small game. Before long, though, they would need to find a sept and buy some food; the sooner the better.

  Lici seemed unusually quiet this morning. She hardly looked at either man, but from what Besh could tell she wasn't actually avoiding eye contact with them. She simply appeared withdrawn. She ate what they handed to her; he and Sirj had no trouble getting her into the cart. Once again, Besh wondered if his threats of the day before had reached her, and he decided to use this new docility of hers to his advantage.

  As they started out from their camp, Lici riding in the cart and Besh walking just beside it, he asked her how she was feeling.

  "I'm fine," she said quietly. "A little sore."

  "Where are you sore?"

  "All over."

  He nodded. She had taken a hard fall the day before. It made sense, really.

  "My head especially."

  Besh glanced at her and saw just a hint of her old malice in those dark eyes. But as suddenly as it appeared it vanished again, leaving her looking old and weary.

  "Lici, I'm wondering if you remember anything more about the merchant who bought your baskets."

  "The merchant?"

  He frowned, unsure, as usual, as to how much of her forgetfulness was genuine and how much she put on simply to frustrate him. "Yes. You met him in Sentaya and he bought the rest of your baskets from you. He was supposed to sell them to the Y'Qatt, but instead he took them into Fal'Borna land. If

  "He lied to me."

  "Yes, Lici, he lied. What else do you remember about him?"

  "I remember everything."

  Besh shot her a look, but Lici kept her eyes trained on the road before. He glanced at Sirj, who walked ahead of them, leading the cart horse. The younger man was watching them over his shoulder and he nodded encouragement to Besh.

  "What did he look like, Lici?"

  "Tall, a bit fat, even for an Eandi. He had red hair."

  "What else?" Besh asked, eager now that she was talking.

  "He told me which one of the sovereignties he came from." She shook her head. "I don't remember now."

  "Try."

  She frowned, her brow furrowing. After a time she shook her head a second time. "I can't"

  "Was it Aelea? Stelpana? Tordjanne? Qo-?"

  "Tordjanne!" she said, her eyes wide. She actually smiled, looking happier than Besh had ever seen her. "It was Tordjanne!"

  "Good, Lici," he said. "Is there anything more you can remember? Anything at all?"

  "His name," she whispered. "He told me his name."

  This was almost too much for Besh to believe. "What was it?" he asked, his voice dropping too, as if he feared scaring the recollection away.

  "H-" she said. And then again, "H-" Her eyes darted from side to side, giving her a wild, insane look. "Hed… Hed… HedF… arren! HedFarren! That's it! Brint HedFarren!"

  "You're certain?" Besh asked.

  She nodded and cackled. "Brint HedFarren! Brint HedFarren!"

  "Well done, Lici! Well done!" Besh cast a quick smile at Sirj, who was beaming as well. "We'll find him now for certain. I know we will."

  She didn't answer, but she was smiling still, repeating the name to herself again and again. "Brint HedFarren. Brint HedFarren."

  "Can you tell me something else?" he asked her. "Do you know how to defeat your curse? Do you know how to stop it?"

  No response.

  "Lici? Can you tell me how to stop it?" He tried to look her in the eye, but she avoided his gaze, all the while repeating the merchant's name. "Very well," he finally said. "Maybe later."

  He hurried forward and fell in step beside Sirj.

  "How did you manage to do that?" the younger man asked.

  "I'm not sure. She's been behaving differently since yesterday. I thought I might as well try."

  "Well, it was brilliant."

  Besh dismissed the compliment with a wave of his hand. "It means nothing if we can't stop her curse from spreading, but at least now we have a better chance of finding the merchant and her baskets. We need a settlement of some sort. I'll stay with Lici. You go in, buy us some food, and ask around a bit. With any luck at all, Brint HedFarren has come this way."

  Besh's spirits were higher than they had been at any time since he'd left his home in Kirayde. Nven if they didn't find a sept, this had already been their most successful day of the journey. And yet, it seemed that their good fortune was just beginning. Before midday, they came within sight of a small settlement that fronted what must have been a tributary to the Thraedes.

  They steered the cart into a small wooded hollow, where it would be hidden from view. However cooperative Lici had become in the last day, they weren't ready to take her into a village of any sort, and if they left the cart out in the open while Sirj walked into the sept, it would arouse suspicions. They were Eandi-Mettai, no less-in Fal'Borna land. Even these precautions seemed inadequate.

  "Have a care," Besh said, as Sirj unhitched the horse from the cart. "The Fal'Borna don't like our kind."

  "Nobody likes our kind," Sirj said with a grin. "Why should the Fal'Borna be any different."

  Besh remained serious. "They are, and you know it. If they know of Lici and her curse, they'll be especially hostile."

  Sirj nodded. "I'll be care
ful. Don't worry." He patted Besh's shoulder and started toward the sept, leaving Lici and Besh in the small copse.

  Lici didn't seem to pay much attention to what they were doing. She sat on her cart, gazing into the trees, her expression unreadable. Besh eyed her briefly, then followed Sirj up the small rise leading out of the hollow, so that he might mark the man's progress toward the sept. Sirj was walking quickly, appearing a bit too eager. Besh had to resist an urge to shout to him to slow down.

  He'll be fine, came Ema's voice in his head. He smart and he's strong, and he'll be just fine. Still Besh watched him until at last Sirj neared the edge of the settlement. He saw several riders set out from the village in Sirj's direction, swiftly covering the distance between them. He and Sirj should have anticipated that. The Fal'Borna wouldn't just allow a man to walk into their sept. They'd want him to state his business first.

  "Damn," Besh muttered.

  There was nothing he could do to help Sirj now. He had to trust that the younger man could convince the Qirsi that he was merely a traveler in need of food. He recalled pledging to his daughter that he would keep Sirj safe. Now, remembering, he scoffed at how arrogant he had been to make such a promise.

  "Don't anger them," he said, as if Sirj could hear him. "Don't push too hard. Better we should go hungry."

  He was still watching, trying to determine from Sirj's stance and the actions of the riders what was being said, when he heard a footstep behind him, far closer than should have been possible. He whirled around and found himself face-to-face with Lici. She had one hand balled into a fist and blood oozed from a fresh wound on the back of her other hand. He should have pulled his own blade free, but he simply froze, like a rabbit caught in the hungry glare of a wolf.

  Earlier in the day she had appeared withdrawn, even meek, and both Besh and Sirj had been all too willing to believe that they had tamed her. Clearly she'd been deceiving them yet again.

  All pretense had vanished now, and with it any semblance of submissiveness. Her eyes glittered like emeralds in the grey light, bright and angry, and she wore a cruel grin like a gash across her face.

  "So," she said, in a voice as cold as death, "you think you can kill me."

  Chapter 7

  F'GHARA'S SEPT, THE CENTRAL PLAIN

  Halfway between the copse of trees and the Fal'Borna sept, Sirj wished that he'd remained behind and left it to Besh to enter the settlement.

  He could handle a trade, of course. He'd been trapping and selling skins for nearly sixteen years. He could deal with the Fal'Borna as well. They might hate the Mettai, but gold was gold and trade in the Southlands crossed all boundaries.

  But Besh wanted him to learn what he could of the merchant, of this Brint HedFarren, who had bought Lici's baskets. Sirj didn't do well with people, at least not with people he didn't know. That was Besh's strength, and Elica's as well. Even Mihas, his eldest, was better than he at making conversation and winning people's trust.

  He very nearly turned around and went back to the hollow where Besh and Lici waited for him. But Besh was old to be wandering so far from Mettai lands, and his appearance in the settlement would have raised more questions than Sirj's. And the last thing they needed was to draw attention to themselves and to Lici. Reluctantly, he continued toward the settlement.

  He'd had few dealings with the Fal'Borna, none of them in Qirsi lands. They were said to be a hard people-arrogant, cold, fearsome in battle. Those Fal'Borna he'd encountered in the marketplaces of Kirayde and other Mettai villages around the Companion Lakes had struck him this way. They showed little humor; they rarely even smiled. It always seemed to Sirj that they charged too much for their goods and refused to entertain even the most reasonable counteroffers. He scoured his memory, but he couldn't remember a single pleasant exchange with a Fal'Borna peddler.

  "That bodes well," he muttered under his breath.

  Fortunately, Besh had taken a good deal of gold from Lici's but before leaving Kirayde, and Lici had been carrying a great deal more when they found her near Sentaya. He'd pay a lot for the food he bought this day, but they could afford it.

  As he approached the sept he realized that it was smaller than he'd expected it to be. There were perhaps a hundred shelters clustered near a meandering stream. Beyond them he could see a large paddock holding several dozen horses and a series of rectangular plots of land that were now bare, where the Fal'Borna probably had grown their crops.

  He hadn't yet reached the shelters when four figures ran to the paddock, leaped onto horses, and started riding in his direction. All of them carried spears. With his heart abruptly pounding in his chest, Sirj raised a hand in greeting. The riders, all of them men, halted a short distance from him.

  "Stop there, dark-eye," one of the men called.

  Sirj stopped and lowered his hand. Lici's horse let out a low whinny, and he stroked her nose, all the while keeping his eyes on the Fal'Borna.

  "Who are you?" the man demanded. "What do you want here?"

  "My name is Sirj," he said. "I come from Kirayde. It's a village on Ravens Wash, near the Companion Lakes. I was hoping to buy some food."

  Too late, it occurred to him that he had been planning to buy a good deal of food, far more than a lone traveler would need. Probably he would be better off buying some here, and then finding another sept in which they could buy more. It wasn't an appealing proposition, but he thought it wiser to risk a second encounter with the Fal'Borna than to raise the suspicions of these folk. That is, if he survived this first encounter.

  "Kirayde," the man said. "I don't know that place."

  He tried to smile; failed. "It's very small."

  "Are you Mettai, Sirj?"

  For just an instant, Sirj thought about denying it. It quickly occurred to him, though, that the men had only to look at the back of his hand and see the scars there to know the truth.

  "Yes, I am," he said.

  "What do you have in the carry sack?"

  Did these men know about Lici and her baskets? Is that why they were asking these questions and keeping their distance?"

  "A second overshirt, a change of clothes, some rope, a waterskin, what little food I have left, and… and a pouch of gold."

  "That's all?"

  "That's all."

  "Then you won't mind opening the sack and showing us."

  They were as much as calling him a liar, but Sirj didn't say anything. He merely opened the sack and began to pull out every item it held. When he was done, he held it upside down and shook it.

  "Satisfied?" he asked.

  "I believe that your sack contains nothing more than what you told us it did," the Fal'Borna said. "But I still can't allow you to enter F'Ghara's Sept.

  "Why not?"

  "Our people have had dealings with the Mettai in recent turns. We know how dangerous your kind can be. Any of the things you just pulled out of your carry sack could be cursed."

  "Cursed?" he said, trying to sound surprised. But inwardly he despaired. They did know about Lici. He'd buy no food here, or anywhere on the plain for that matter.

  "That's right. Your blood magic clings to all it touches. And it sickens my people. There are those in my sept who would kill you where you stand, just for being Mettai. Fortunately for you, the a'laq isn't one of them."

  "I'm grateful to your a'laq for his mercy. But I need food. I don't have to enter your sept. I don't even have to get near you. If you can bring me food to buy I can leave gold here. You can take it when I've gone."

  "And if your gold is cursed?"

  "It's not!" Sirj said.

  The Fal'Borna shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't take you at your word. Not about this."

  "You have magic that can tell you if I'm lying, don't you?"

  The man narrowed his eyes and regarded him for several moments. Finally he nodded. "The magic you speak of is called mind-bending. It doesn't tell us when you're lying, but it can compel you to tell the truth. And I don't wield it; our a'laq does."

/>   Compel you to tell the truth. About anything? Sirj didn't dare ask the question aloud for fear that it would give away too much. But he wished he had left the Fal'Borna while he still had the chance. He and Besh could look for roots and use the snare. If need be, they could go hungry for a night or two. Now, though…

  "You would consent to this magic?" the man asked.

  Having raised the possibility himself, how could he refuse?

  "If it's the only way I can enter your village and buy food, yes, I'll consent to it."

  The Fal'Borna seemed to consider this briefly. He glanced at the man beside him and said something in a whisper that Sirj couldn't hear. His companion nodded and responded, also in a whisper.

  "Remain here, Sirj of the Mettai. We'll return shortly with an answer for you. If you come any closer to our sept, you'll be killed. Do you understand?"

  "Yes," Sirj said.

  The four riders wheeled their mounts around and rode back toward the shelters.

  Watching them ride away, Sirj wondered whether he should flee or await their return.

  And where would you hide? he asked himself. Now that they know to look for you, you'll be easy to spot.

  The horse shook her head and stamped a foot impatiently.

  "Yes, I know," Sirj said. "Besh would have been smarter. So would Lici for that matter."

  If the Fal'Borna only asked him about the things he carried and if they were cursed, he'd be fine. But if they started asking him other questions-Do you know who's responsible for the pestilence that's killing our people? Can you lead us to her?-he'd be in trouble. He couldn't be certain what the Fal'Borna would do to him and Besh. But they'd kill Lici for sure, and chances were they'd be just as ruthless with her companions.

  He shook his head, his stomach knotting itself like wet rope. Besh should have come instead of me.

  Soon-far too soon-he saw the riders returning, with a fifth man at the head of their party. This man's horse might have been slightly larger than those of the warriors, but otherwise Sirj saw little in his appearance or attire to mark him as the a'laq.