'Come on, teamster!' someone called, and Vandien sent a smile around the room. So they thought he kept silent to tease them to attention. Let them.
'How shall I start?' he asked them rhetorically. He glanced at Ki, who held her mug aloft for a refill. 'Let me ask you this. Did you folk know what an amorous beast a skeel is? Did you know of the hidden stairwell in the temple of the Windsingers? Have you ever marked how the kneeling Windsinger over the fallen altar watches one with a tear at the corner of her eye? How her hands seem to rise and fall with the waves that kiss them?'
He had them. With a few questions, Vandien had them in silence, hanging on his tale, as if the temple he spoke of was not at their doorsteps, but a mystic place a legend away. Ki listened to him, and watched his flying fingers as he wove for them a tale full of omens and misfortune, spiced here and there with knowing laughter. Vandien made himself the fool, the teamster who came not knowing of the trickiness of the task. To Janie he gave the role of courageous village girl who saves the foolish teamster at the last possible moment. Ki listened silently as he gave every fact the twist it needed to tickle the villagers' vanity most. He painted them in their best colors, a doughty folk who braved the treacherous seas that bewildered and awed a simple teamster like himself. Even Ki found herself smiling at his words as he described how his own team had nearly dragged him to his death. And if he gave Janie the credit for pulling him back from the water's grip, Ki did not begrudge it. She knew what he was trying to do, and knew that he could not succeed at it. The village would not see Janie as a plucky young woman, no matter how Vandien turned the story. He might temporarily soften their feelings for her, but he could not change how they thought of her.
'And so here I am, alive but wet!' he was winding it up. 'And if I haven't a stack of gold coins to show for it, at least I've the experience. I'll never hear a man tell me what an easy life fishingfolk have without knowing he's never braved the sea. And that's a good bit of knowledge to have, worth as much to a man as a purse full of coin.' With a grin, Vandien snapped his string back into a loop. He settled it over his head again, and drained his cooling mug.
'Another drink!' called Berni, but Vandien shook his head.
'We're for bed,' he replied, rising slowly from the table.
'Let the woman stay!' A guttural voice called from a back table. 'She shouldn't have to climb in beside you until the light's out, teamster!'
That got a general laugh. Ki narrowed her green eyes, and parted her lips to speak, but Vandien caught hold of her shoulder and gave it a squeeze that silenced her. With a knowing smile, he turned the taunt, saying, 'Not Ki. She's a wise one, and knows that handsome is as handsome does.'
'I'll wager the fisherwomen know the same,' Ki added tartly. 'For I see that you drink alone, fisherman!'
The laughter was turned upon the man at the back table now. The sound of it followed them to the base of the stairs that loomed before them. It took an inordinate amount of time to climb them. Vandien's pace and steadiness were no better than that of the revelers in the room below. Ki slipped a hand under his arm. She found him trembling with weariness and cold, but he pulled away from her support. They reached the landing at the head of the stairs. Vandien turned and gave her a smile that rippled his scar but did not reach his eyes.
They stood like strangers in the semi-darkness on the landing. All the words that Ki had prepared since Dresh had told her how Vandien had been baited here were suddenly ashes on her tongue. She thought of the days and miles they had traveled together, the times when it seemed that Vandien knew the thoughts of her head before she voiced them. She had found comfort in their long silences. She had thought that Vandien shared that comfort. In those long evenings when they had ridden in silence but for the sounds of the horses' hooves meeting the road, when Ki had been watching the fir trees turn from green to purple against a darkening sky, what had been in his mind? When they swayed together on the hard seat, their shoulders jogging companionably against one another to the rhythm of the greys' pace, had his thoughts turned to his marred face and wondered why it had to be? A cold winter memory came to her. She had wakened in the darkness of the cuddy, jarred from sleep by a dream whose ending she could not abide. When she opened her eyes, the moon was shining in the small window. Her pale light touched the objects in the cuddy without giving detail to any of them. Vandien had rolled away from her and was sleeping on his back. The moon silvered the skin of his face, making him look like a very old carving of yellowed ivory. The proud jut of his jaw and the straight line of his nose were sharply delineated, but his eye hollows were filled with blackness. His still features were an empty-eyed mask, a mocking cold thing put into her bed to remind her of her loneliness. Her half of the bed seemed chilled and empty, but she could not bring herself to move closer to his warmth. For if that warmth were not there, if his profile were only an icy sham, a monstrous cheat of some sourceless magic... she had shivered then as she shivered now, with more than cold, with the child's sudden fear that the things she knew best she knew not at all. As she had shuddered in her bed that night, he had stirred, turning his face to her, and silently pulling her into his warmth and man-smell, holding her close and making the world real again. She had never wondered, then, at his wakefulness. But now she did. What dark thoughts had he followed as he lay on his back in the cold moonlight staring at the cuddy ceiling?
She watched him walk away from her. His shoulders sagged. The short darkened hallway closed in on him, folding him away from her in its depths. Ki felt the sudden sting of tears, so long foreign to her eyes. She straightened her body and took a deep breath. I am just tired, she told herself, and I am letting my emotions run like unbroken yearlings. Vandien kicked open a door. Yellow lamplight flooded out in a folded rectangle on the floor and opposite wall. Ki hastened to follow him, but he was standing in the doorway, not entering the room.
'I've failed you, Srolan.' His words were slow and deep, sounding drunken. Ki moved up to peer past his shoulder.
A woman was sitting on the bed. The imprint of her body was on the blankets and pillows. Emotions swirled up in Ki, anger, surprise, jealousy, and then subsided as she realized the age of the woman. Her night-black hair was smoothed back from her face to hang in waves down her back, her jet eyes shone, but her mouth was framed in lines. Crow's feet bracketed her eyes. The papery skin of her cheeks had fallen, abandoning the proud bones of her face. Ki could see the beauty she had been, but youth had fled that face, leaving only the shadow of its memory and its proud lines.
Ki glanced at Vandien. He stood in the doorway, brow furrowed, staring as if he did not trust his eyes. The woman's gaze fell before his. 'So you see me. Just an old woman now. It's a hard glamor to maintain. And it grows harder with each passing year, especially before eyes as discerning as yours. You tempted me as I have not been tempted in years, Vandien. You love and hate and hope with such abandon, with such a plenitude of emotion. I could feel you burning to achieve my goals for me. You were like a hawk on my fist; I could have flown you at the sun, and you would have gone. You should be grateful to me, woman.' Srolan was addressing Ki now. 'I could have had him, you know, body and soul. I could have made him burn for me in any way I pleased. But didn't. I've that much honor left to me. As you say, you've failed me, and there is no reason to deceive you any longer. Is Janie all right?'
'She's alive, if that's what you mean. She is scarcely all right, nor do I think she ever will be. Tonight she spilled every last bit of courage she held. I do not know what she will use to face the village folk after this. Bitterness may have to suffice.'
'Well. She has plenty and to spare of that. As do you, teamster. Do not think too hardly of me, for I am not as cold as I seem. Only old and disappointed and weary. You made an effort, teamster. That's more than has been done for many years.'
'But not enough. You will keep your gold, and I'll keep my scar.'
'Yes. But take my good will with you when you go. That's not a bad thing to carry
off with you.'
'And all it cost me was four skeel and a near drowning.'
'I've heard of worse bargains. It isn't as if this were done solely for amusement, Vandien. Do you think you are the only one disappointed this night? It is beyond your imagination to guess what I have lost this night. I believed you could do it, Vandien. I looked into you. You are a man whose feelings drive him to do the impossible. So I hired you. So I opened the door on my caged dreams... and now I see them, feet up in the straw. I am too old to try again. And I have so many regrets. If only I had found you years ago; if only they had left young Killian to sing the wind, instead of bringing in that Windmistress; if only I were young enough to have one more chance.'
Srolan rose slowly to go, an old woman lifting her tired bones. Her body moved with the rasp of her breathing. Vandien stepped aside from the door. But Ki didn't move. Windmistress. Her lips formed the word, but she could not utter it. Rebeke? Who else? Her antagonizing of the Windsingers had led to Vandien's defeat. She had drawn their attention to herself and her friend.
'How much?' Ki demanded suddenly. Vandien and Srolan were startled back to awareness of her. Ki didn't step out of the door. Her sopping hood hung down her back. Lank brown hair framed her narrow face. 'How much?' she repeated, more insistently. A note of anger crept into her question.
'How much... what?' Srolan stood puzzled, seeking to leave, but blocked by Ki.
'How much to lift his scar... if you can do it.'
'That's not a thing bought with coin.'
'Damn you, that's not an answer! You can't do it, even if he brought you the whole damn temple! Admit it!'
Srolan stared at Ki. Ki knew her measure was being taken by those dark eyes. A chill power flowed behind them, but Ki was too angry to be wary.
'She's right, Vandien. I couldn't lift the scar But if I had the chest, there is one who would be persuaded to lift your scar for a single peek inside the box. I would have carried out my side of the bargain, if you had yours. But you didn't.'
'That wasn't the only possible bargain in the world. Who is this one who can lift the scar from a man's face?' Ki was not screaming. Screaming would have been pleasanter than the cold hoarseness of her voice.
Srolan looked at her with knowing eyes, and the corners of her withered mouth turned up in mockery of a smile. 'Do you really need to ask that of me, Ki?'
Ki could find no words to answer. She felt shamed by Srolan's appraising eyes, but could not imagine what Srolan knew, or thought she knew, about Ki. No deed in Ki's past could be as loathsome as her tone implied. But Ki found herself drawing aside to let Srolan pass. A chill wind seemed to follow her, that set Ki to shivering until her teeth chattered in her head. She clenched her jaws against it. She looked down the hall, but Srolan was already gone. She turned back to Vandien.
He stood in the middle of the room stripping efficiently and dropping his sodden clothes into the bathtub. Ki came into the room, drawing the door shut behind her. She watched him undress. His feet were wrinkled and red with their long immersion. As he drew his wet smock off over his head, his neck bent in a graceful curve, the arch bared to show the small dark shape of a hawk printed on his nape. The woolen smock slapped into the tub on top of the rest of his clothes. He stood rubbing his face. Putting one hand on each side of his face, he pushed firmly. His scar went narrower, no longer dragging at his eye. But when his hands dropped away, his face fell again into its marred configuration. He was surprised to find Ki watching him.
'It hurts all the time, doesn't it?' she asked gently.
'No.' He denied it flatly. 'Only when it's cold. The rest of the time it's just a stiffness, a place of no feeling. It doesn't really trouble me all that much, Ki. It was just a chance to be rid of it, and have a pouch full of coin into the bargain. Anyone would have jumped at it.'
'Certainly. Even I, if anyone had bothered to tell me what the stakes were.'
He looked acutely uncomfortable. Vandien turned away from her and went to the bed, to climb in under the covers.
'Vandien.' Ki groped for words. 'I never stopped to think what a burden that scar must be to you. But now that I know...' Ki floundered. 'Let's go to Srolan in the morning. Let's find out who can lift your scar, and go see...'
'Just like taking a kettle to the tinker. Here, fellow, patch this up, and I'll give you a coin for your time. Ki, dammit, it's my face. I'll not have you paying to have it repaired. Must we dredge all this up and talk about it now? I'm tired and cold.'
'So am I.' Ki sank down onto the stool and began to work her boots off her feet. For a time, the silence held. The boots dropped to the floor and she rose to pull her hood and tunic off. Her voice came muffled and bleak through the fold of damp cloth. 'As I put the scar there, why should I not help to remove it?'
'Must this damn thing come between me and every other person in my life?' Vandien demanded petulantly. 'I'd prefer you continue to ignore it, Ki. You didn't put the scar on my face. A Harpy did that. You had no say in it. You never called to me for help. Up to that moment, you didn't even welcome my company.'
'You offered me a bargain, once,' Ki recalled. She had freed her hair from the braid and was combing her fingers through it. 'You offered no debts between us, nothing given, unless it was given freely. As I offer this now. What harm can it do to spend a few days upon this, to see exactly what can be done?'
'The same kind of harm that is being done right now!'
'Harm.' Ki gave a choked laugh. 'That's what I am best at. You might have succeeded, if they had not brought in a Windmistress to sing. Did not Srolan say that?'
'I have no idea what she meant.' Vandien shouldered himself deeper into the bed.
'I'm afraid that I do. You have not asked what errand kept me away from False Harbor.'
'You don't need to give me excuses.'
'Not usually,' Ki said gravely. 'But I suspect I brought the Windsingers down on you. Did I tell you in Dyal not to risk their enmity? I should have advised myself. I did more than earn their anger. I owe my life to one Rebeke, Windmistress. She kept me alive; but I doubt if she has any fondness for me. Or for my friend.'
Vandien propped himself up on an elbow. His dark eyes bored into hers. With an effort, he lightened the mood. 'It sounds like a tale worth the telling, but one that deserves a night fire under high stars. Let it wait awhile, Ki. And remember, there is no changing what is done. Even if there had been no Windsinger, I doubt if I could have found that chest. The night was too dark and the water too deep. Besides,' he tried for a smile, 'I can't let you steal the only morsel Srolan threw to my vanity. Let me believe the Windsinger Killian knew herself no match for me, and called in reinforcements.'
Vandien flopped back to stare at the ceiling. Ki bent to blow out the lamp. In the chill darkness she found the bed and crawled into it. She rested beside him, their bodies not quite touching. She could not see in the blackness of the shuttered room. Uncertainly she reached out to put her hand on his chest. She felt the hair bend softly beneath her fingers, felt the chill of the sea on his body still. He made no sound, and she grew bold enough to huddle closer, fitting her body to his. She eased her head onto his shoulder, until she felt the softly bristling stubble on his chin tickle against her forehead. 'Did you believe Janie...' she began cautiously, but could not go on.
Vandien shifted. His hand moved to tousle her hair. It rested on her head, lightly pressing her to his chest. When he spoke, his weary voice hummed by her ear, with a shade of his old humor in it.
'What Janie said out there in the temple? That you would like to see me stay scarred? As soon as she said it, I knew it would gnaw on you. It's just the type of insidious suggestion you can't abide.' He fell silent.
Ki waited. Vandien sighed out a deep breath. He bent his head and she felt the brush of his moustache as he kissed her lightly on the forehead. His body relaxed as sleep took him.
'I asked if you believed her!' she reminded him in an exasperated voice. She punctuated her reminder
with a light jab in his ribs.
He jumped and chuckled infuriatingly. Ki knew he had baited her into repeating her question. A little of the day's tension went out of her. If he could still laugh and tease, then their companionship could survive this day's folly.
'It bothers you that much, does it? It is like this. Every person hides inside her some small bit of ugliness. Perhaps it makes Janie feel she is not so wicked and selfish if she can imagine you are no better than she. Did you notice Collie, the mute harper?'
Ki nodded against his chest. Their bodies were beginning to warm the bed. She liked the way his chest thrummed against her ear when he spoke.
'Janie likes him better mute. Had he a voice, other than his harp, he might mock her as the other men in the village do. Then she would have to sneer at him and reject him as she does the others. But while he is voiceless, she can care for him, in the depths of her blighted little soul, and rest assured that other women will not find him too attractive. I doubt if she has put her feeling into words, even to herself. But some part of her knows, and her guilt stings a little less if she imagines you share a little sentiment for me.'
'Oh.' Ki rolled over and arranged herself so that she could lean on her elbows, and look down into Vandien's face. She could see little but her eyes weren't needed. She lightly trailed her fingertips over his face. The lines in his forehead smoothed away under her touch. She fluffed the damp curls away from his face and cautiously ran a finger down the stiffness of his scar. A light touch told her that his eyes were closed. She stroked his face. 'Does it ease the pain when I touch you like this?'
The Windsingers Page 25
