'I saw Rifa, and that dancing bear she consorts with... Ki,' he continued in a different voice. 'It wasn't just the money she offered. There was another matter.'
'Rifa. Of course. She'd find this funny. I bet they asked her to use her team, and she refused, but set them onto you, to put you in a spot. She'd guess that you wouldn't know a thing about False Harbor.'
'It wasn't just the money.' Vandien mumbled it this time, with a quick sideways glance at Ki. But she was not paying attention. The drunken tinker in the other room seemed to have switched tables, for his voice, raised in an obscenity, came from just outside the room. Ki glanced at the doorway in disgust. She had moved to this room to be away from the tinker and his diatribe against the Windsingers; she did not wish to hear it. His tales of woe would be usual ones: the rain taxes were too high for a small merchant like himself; the taxes burdened the farmers until they couldn't afford even his simple wares; the Windsingers were bleeding the farmers of their hard-won crops. They were old tales and familiar. Ki could not think of any place her travels had ever taken her that she had not heard the same groans. But usually the complainer had the good sense to whisper them quietly to close friends, not bellow them out in public like a stricken bullock.
She glanced back to a silent Vandien. He had drawn his belt knife and was slowly stirring his food with it. T'cheria used no eating implements, and furnished none in their dining places. Ki drew her own short blade and speared a chunk of the food in her bowl. Steam wavered up from the greenish cube, and she blew on it cautiously before putting it in her mouth. She instantly wished she hadn't. Whatever it was, it tasted like low tide smelled. She swallowed it whole to get it out of her mouth. Not even a gulp of Burgoon could cleanse her mouth of the taste. She turned with a tart comment for Vandien on his food choice, only to find him still staring into his bowl, and stirring it moodily with his blade.
'Stir with a knife, you stir up trouble.'
'Romni superstition!' he snorted.
'What more did she offer, Vandien, beside the money?'
Slow color rose in his face and then faded. Idly he fingered the scar down his face. 'Nothing of great import, I suppose.' He stabbed a chunk of green stuff and put it in his mouth. Ki watched him expectantly, but he chewed and swallowed with no change of expression.
'But what was it?' Ki pressed. He wasn't finding Rifa's stupid joke amusing. Vandien usually bore a joke well, if he could not find a way to turn it back upon the instigator, and Ki could not fathom his injured attitude. She continued to fix him with a green-eyed stare as he ate three more mouthfuls. At last he spoke.
'I did give her my word, you know. We touched hands on it.'
'And what else?' Ki demanded, sure there was more to it than this.
'Isn't that enough, dammit? I've seen you lay your life on the line to keep from breaking your word.'
'But Rifa intended it as a joke, Vandien. I'm sure of it.'
'Perhaps. But it was not a joke to the woman that made the offer, nor to me when I gave my word. Ki, what harm could come of us taking it on? Even if we failed like all the others, we would have...'
'Made total fools of ourselves,' Ki finished for him. 'Look, I've a team to feed and a wagon to maintain. I can't manage that on a room and board basis.' Ki paused. 'There's more to it than that. I don't take those kinds of jobs, Vandien. I haul freight. I sometimes buy, haul, and sell likely merchandise. But I don't do salvage, especially when the ownership of the salvaged item is in dispute. Do you think the Windsingers would be thrilled to have that metal chest hauled up and examined? Do you think they like the idea of anyone even attempting it? A teamster has to keep the goodwill of those in power; or at least be unnoticed by them. I do very well at being unnoticed, Vandien. I don't want to change that by hauling up some Windsinger relics and turning them over to a half-crazed crone who wants to prove that Windsingers are blasphemies against nature. By the Moon, Van! Remember, I'm a Romni! That makes me target enough!'
Ki paused for breath. But Vandien was not looking at her. He had a half-scowl on his face that made crowsfeet at the corners of his dark eyes. Ki knew that when his face relaxed, those same lines would show white against his tanned skin. But there was no hope of that just now. He was listening to the drunken tinker's litany from the next room.
Ki wished they hadn't gotten into this. But she couldn't give in, couldn't let him start taking on jobs for her without even consulting her, couldn't let him drag her into things he didn't know the depth of. Damn his impulsiveness. Her careful planning of each day's travel frustrated him. He was ever willing to push on to the very edge of nightfall, hoping to find a 'better place to camp.' How many times had he teased her to try an unknown shortcut, only to meet with her stolid refusal. Well, let him sigh over her caution. Let him laugh and tease her about her wariness, calling it 'bogey fears.' He hadn't grown up Romni, moving from place to place, living only by tolerance and chance. She spoke softly.
'Vandien, my friend, the ill will of the Windsingers could follow us anywhere we might choose to go. It would not be a simple mistake, an excuse me, please and backing out of their territory. There are no limits to their influence. Once they had marked us we would never know a day of fair weather again. No one would hire me, nor buy goods from me.'
Vandien had finally turned to face her, his eyes meeting hers. But the damn tinker was making so much noise that Ki had to raise her voice to be heard. Around her, T'cheria were beginning to scuttle from the room. They considered it an insult to be disturbed while they were feeding. Ki didn't care what they thought. She would make Vandien understand her. It annoyed her that he was obviously half-listening to the noisy tinker. She took both his hands, raising her voice yet again. But the tinker's voice still overrode hers.
'And I say, burn them! Burn your crops in the field and scatter the sheared wool of your flocks. Let them whistle for a share! They want the best that your sweat and blood can bring them, and what do they give you? Only the rain and the gentle winds that are the right of any creature that walks the face of the world! Burn them in the fields, and let them sniff smoke and weave ash for their share! Keep only what you need for your own families. Let them suffer a winter of privation, such as the many you have known. Maybe then...'
Vandien seemed awed by the man's hysterical cant. Ki squeezed his hands and half-rose, shouting to make herself heard. 'Only a fool would oppose the Windsingers! And I'm not a fool. Let someone else be a hero. I just want for us to go our quiet way, unnoticed by them. Vandien, there's you and me and the team, and not much else I care for. But, dammit, I care for that a lot, and I'll go a long way to protect it. Leave the Windsingers alone,' she shouted at him, 'and they'll leave us to live in peace.'
To her sudden chagrin, Ki found herself bellowing into a silenced common room. The T'cherian diners were gone. Angry faces, Human, Olo and Kerugi, clustered in the low doorway, staring at her. Her raised voice had not only reclaimed Vandien's attention, but captured that of everyone else in the inn. The tinker was glaring at her, pale eyes peering around a hank of greasy hair. His wet mouth worked as he sputtered for words. Ki's stomach fell away. He, and everyone else in the room, thought that she had risen in body and voice to oppose him. An Olo draped on its Kerugi's shoulders twittered into the silence.
A T'cherian in the corner dropped her serving tray and scuttled out a low door into the kitchen. Ki glanced after her, wondering at her haste. Vandien was struggling to his feet beside her. He jostled her roughly as he stooped and seized the edge of the sand table. With a heave he upended it, spilling sand and food in a cascade across the floor. His strong fingers closed on the shoulder of her blouse, tearing it, as he jerked her to the floor behind the table. The first missile hit the table with a solid thunk. Bits of broken pottery and splats of stew flew over the top.
Vandien's hand went to his hip and came up empty. Even if his rapier had been there instead of on its hook in Ki's wagon, it would have been little protection against flying pottery. Their sh
ort belt knives were useful for bread and cheese but little else. As three mugs and a serving dish hit the table, she and Vandien ducked at the same moment, rapping their heads together.
'Damn,' muttered Ki, rocking back on her heels as she saw sparks of light. Several low cries of triumph came from the entryway. Whoever had thrown the mugs felt they had scored. Ki peered around the corner of the table. No one had ventured into the T'cherian room yet. They all preferred to throw from the shelter of the doorway. A metal pitcher arched toward her. Ki ducked back as it clanged against the front of the table. Her eyes flew to Vandien's. 'What are we going to do?' she demanded angrily as she saw his grin. 'They've gone crazy!'
It was just like him to be merry at a moment like this. 'I don't know, but I promise never to stir with a knife again. What did you have planned, when you so aptly stirred them up?'
'I was talking to you!' In spite of herself, she felt her mouth twisting up into a wry grin to match his. 'If you had been listening properly, I wouldn't have had to shout.'
'The tinker caught my ear.' Vandien reached quickly around the end of the table, managed to snag his food dish. He sent it spinning across the room. It shattered against the door frame, and their opponents momentarily vanished. 'It seemed to me that what he was saying was just as applicable to us as farmers and weavers. But...' he cut in swiftly as Ki's face darkened and she lowered her brows. 'Now is not the time to renew that discussion.' Ki groped around her end of the table and came up with her glass. She took hasty aim and hurled it. From the other room came the scuffling of feet as more ammunition was gathered. Vandien went on speaking calmly. 'Your words were the perfect catalyst for the situation. Not one of them wanted to agree aloud with the tinker, for in their hearts they knew the foolishness of opposing the Windsingers. But he made them feel guilty and cowardly for such thoughts. Just when they would have had to agree with him, or slink off with their tails between their legs, here comes Ki to stand up and voice their craven opinion for them. Thus making it possible for them to take out all their frustrations on us, instead of turning it on themselves or the Windsingers.'
As he spoke, Vandien tried his strength against each table leg in turn. The short stout legs were firmly affixed to the sand table, possibly in foresight against situations like this one.
'I don't consider it a craven opinion,' Ki hissed. 'It's common sense!'
'Whatever!' Vandien shrugged and ducked at the same time. A mug clipped the upper edge of the table and bounced from the wall to fall harmlessly beside him. He returned it quickly. 'Shall we argue about it before or after they get up enough courage to rush us?'
'All journeys begin from where you are!' Ki grunted out the old Romni saying as she popped up, grabbed two jugs from the shelf behind them, and crouched down again.
'Meaning all solutions start in the now, not by looking for someone to blame,' Vandien said loftily as he snatched down ammunition of his own. 'Ki, this is decent drink, a rare thing in Dyal. I know, for I've sampled around. You don't mean to throw full jugs?'
'Watch me!' Ki retorted, and dared to stand to let one fly. She had the satisfaction of seeing it shatter on the door frame, drenching at least two of their attackers and sending flying shards of pottery across the room. Ki laughed as they cringed. The stinging odor of splashed Burgoon rose.
Vandien pulled her down barely in time; the basin that hit the wall behind her spattered them both with the brown slime of fermented Kessler beans. They gasped in the stench. Vandien's reluctance for throwing full jugs vanished. Grabbing both of his, he rose and heaved them with a windmilling motion. Ki took advantage of his cover to seize two more jugs on the shelf. As they ducked together behind the table, several cries rose from the outer room. 'We got one!' Ki smiled savagely. As her eyes met Vandien's, a spark jumped between them. This was dangerous, reckless, and above all a waste of good drink, but, damn, it was fun! The tension between them evaporated. The scar up Vandien's face rippled with his shout of laughter as his flung jug took the tinker in the paunch and cleared him from the doorway.
Ki heard an ululation of dismay. From the low T'cherian door that led to the kitchen, a dark set of stalked eyes peered at them. The shrilling rose and fell. Other eyes ventured around the frame to peer in. The tavern keeper. Ki sent a bottle to smash against the kitchen door, and the T'cheria darted back to shelter. Maybe now that her stock was being destroyed, instead of metal cups and mugs bouncing about, she would take action.
Ki guessed correctly. Just as Vandien heaved the last jug they could reach without leaving the shelter of the table, she heard the warning shouts of the city guard outside the inn. The ruckus was over as suddenly as it had begun. Ki heard the rattle of retreating boots and shuffling Kerugi. Silence fell. She sent a delighted grin to Vandien that changed to a dismayed laugh as she tried to brush bean mash from her clothing. But Vandien's face went suddenly blank, and she turned to follow the direction of his stare. The T'cherian tavern keeper stood in the doorway, flanked by two huge Brurjan. They wore the neck chains and harness of city guards. Their huge faces split in mirthless grins as the tavern keeper shrilled in lisping Common. 'Those are the two! They started the riot, and must pay the full damages!'
It was full dark when Ki and Vandien emerged into the dusty street.
'Where'd you leave the wagon?'
'A clearing outside town. Looks like a house burned down there, and someone abandoned the land. Good pasturage still.'
They moved off down the street, taking long, swift strides. The night was rapidly becoming as chill as the day had been hot. Puffs of greyish road dust rose with every footfall.
'How much did they leave us?'
'Five dru.' There was deep disgust in Ki's voice. 'After you settled for your room and meals...'
'At a reasonable price,' Vandien interjected.
'After you went to get your gear, the innkeeper reckoned up the damage - not only what we did, but also what the others did. The innkeeper told the guard that, but for my arguing, the tinker would have had his little drunk and done no harm. And she insisted that the jugs of Burgoon we threw held Sheffish brandy.'
'What?' Vandien stopped and rounded on her, aghast.
'Yes.' She confirmed it grimly. 'That's what took most of the money. I had no way to prove it was Burgoon. Arguing with a Brurjan did not appeal to me.'
'I doubt if there is a drop of Sheffish brandy in this whole town, let alone jugs of it.'
'Nonetheless,' Ki replied, 'if she was going to be paid for liquor spilled and soaking into the floorboards, why not be paid for fine Sheffish brandy instead of cheap Burgoon? The Brurjan saw it her way.'
'Moon's blood.' Vandien spat. They resumed their striding pace. The streets were all but deserted, and few lights showed from slit windows. Door hides had been dropped and tied over the slats. Beggar dogs ran free in the streets, sniffing out whatever they could. An odd sort of peace welled up in the shuttered town.
'Well. We may as well push on toward Bitters tomorrow, then,' Vandien ventured.
Ki glanced over at him. 'Why Bitters? I plan to pull my team and wagon into the hiring mart tomorrow and take whatever is offered. Five dru will not keep the team long in grain. I've almost run out of supplies myself. I can't go on to Bitters on the chance of work there, and arrive completely coinless.'
'But just beyond Bitters is False Harbor. There we would have food and lodging, for a few days, and a chance to find work afterwards.'
She rolled her eyes at him. 'Will you put that out of your head? Hasn't it brought us enough trouble?'
'You perhaps. Not me. Having given my word, I intend to see it through.'
'Not with my team,' she said flatly.
'Of that I'm aware, my friend. So it must be another. Which means that I had best start for False Harbor immediately, to allow myself time to rent or borrow a team in Bitters.'
'Rent?' Ki asked incredulously.
'Payment conditional upon my getting paid.' Vandien shrugged off the difficulty.
'Well, if anyone could talk a team owner into a deal like that, you could.'
'Unless I were trying to convince my friend.'
She flinched to his barb. 'Are you actually angry about this, Vandien?'
'No!' He gave a sudden snort of laughter. His sinewy arm hooked suddenly around her waist. They strode on, hips bumping. 'Just shy of doing it alone. What you have said makes a great deal of sense. Arriving with a starved team would make our chance of doing the impossible even slimmer. No, Ki, it's just that there are things I do best when I am in your company... like making a fool of myself.'
'It is a talent we share,' she admitted with a low laugh. Then she sighed. 'What say you to this, Vandien: I'll take what work I can find now, but when I've coin in my pocket again, I'll join you in False Harbor. If I'm in time for their low tide, I'll watch you make a fool of yourself. But I'll be damned if I'll help you. Damn Rifa's eyes!'
'She still hasn't forgiven you for taking up with such a stray dog; especially since I give you no children.'
'I've had my children,' Ki said shortly. Vandien veered from the topic.
'I'd best leave for Bitters right away, then.'
In reply, Ki put her arm around his waist, gripping his belt just above the hip. The strength of her hug knocked him off stride. She smelled the fern sweet smell of him, like a new mown pasture in twilight when the warmth of the day rises from it. For an instant she seemed apart from all things, seeing only his dancing dark eyes, feeling the springy mass of his unruly dark curls on the back of his neck, touching the firmness of his mouth beneath the soft moustache. 'Not immediately,' she told him gruffly. 'Tomorrow morning.' The wagon loomed before them in the darkness, and Sigurd lifted his great grey head in a whinny of greeting.
TWO
The boy worked his way through the breathless market stalls, his bare feet raising puffs of hot dust. The cries of hawkers and the muted arguments of the bargainers only made the day hotter. How could folk trade on a day such as this? Yet they did, and he worked at his own small craft, the carrying of messages through the congested town. Too soon, he knew, the sudden storms of autumn would come. Then he would long for hot dry days like this as he slogged through rain and mud. He licked his dusty lips and wriggled through a knot of farmers.He was in the hiring end of the market now. Harvest workers stood about, shovels and scythes resting beside them, hoping some late harvester would come seeking them. But it had been a dry year, as the Windsingers had threatened. Most farmers had found it short work to harvest the paltry crops the earth had let forth. The boy sought no harvest workers.
The Windsingers Page 2
