Taelyn lifted an eyebrow.
"Now, even those are gone. They were bundled on our pack horse when Chohlit captured us. Gods know where they are now." Innowen gave a little shrug as he lay on his back. "Well, it was a peculiar hobby for a man, anyway."
A soldier came to the tent entrance with a tray, and a rich odor wafted through the air. Behind him came another man with a small field table under one arm. With a nod to Taelyn, he positioned it in the center of the floor and backed out. The first man set his tray down and prepared to serve. "I'll see to it," Taelyn said, dismissing him. The soldier offered a short bow and left without a word.
Taelyn rose and leaned over the table. On the tray were three bowls. Beside each bowl was a steaming, hot cloth. He lifted one cloth, kneeled beside the cot, and carefully wiped Innowen's hands one at a time. The hot moisture felt very soothing. Taelyn used the cloth to massage Innowen's fingers and knuckles, the bones along the backs of his hands, the palms, and the padded areas below the thumbs, even his nails. Taelyn worked patiently, never lifting his gaze from his task. When he finished, he folded the cloth neatly, placed it on the tray, and stood.
"Thank you," Innowen said simply.
Taelyn took a second cloth from the tray and turned to Razkili, who sat up and started to reach for the cloth. But Innowen spoke up. "Let him do it," he instructed. "It's our custom. The host washes the hands of his honored guests before eating."
Razkili looked dubious but raised one hand. Taelyn wrapped it in the warm cloth and worked with the same careful ministrations he had shown Innowen. It was almost funny, Innowen thought, to watch the petulance melt from Rascal's features. "A very pleasant custom," the Osiri confessed as he held up the other hand for cleansing.
Taelyn finished, folding the cloth with the same ritual care and returning it to the tray. He barely passed the third cloth over his own hands, though, before he laid it aside. "There now," he said. "Let's eat." Handing a bowl to each of them, he took his own to the foot of Innowen's cot and began to eat with a wooden spoon. Innowen inhaled the vapors that rose from his bowl, then began to eat also. It was a posset of cooked grains with chunks of pork added, and very tasty.
"Well," Taelyn said when they had scraped their bowls clean, "time to break camp." He tapped Innowen's knee again with affection and prepared to get up. "I delayed this long to give you time to rest and to give us this chance to talk."
Innowen interrupted, not yet ready to let Taelyn go. "You've changed, old friend," he said gently. "You used to chat the days away. Now your speech is crisp and abrupt. And I remember you used to hate horses, but the first time in five years I see you, you're sitting astride one like you'd always been part of it."
Taelyn shrugged. "The slave has become the commander of his master's army." A distant look stole into his eyes, and the lines in his face briefly relaxed. "I go where Minarik sends me," he said, "do what he tells me. Changed? Maybe. But don't fool yourself, Innocent. I don't. I'm still his slave." He collected Innowen's empty bowl, reached for Razkili's and set them beside his on the table.
"You sound bitter," Innowen observed.
"Blame it on the times," Taelyn answered wearily. "You'll find lots of changes around here, boy. You won't like them all." Their gazes locked for a moment, and Innowen looked for some trace of the old Taelyn in those eyes. If there was any, then it was deeply buried. "Well." His host rubbed his hands over his plain black kilt. "Time to get moving. I'll escort you to Minarik. With the loss of the Third Army, I have to report for reassignment, anyway."
Razkili spoke up suddenly. "Do you think you can locate our horses? Particularly the pack beast with Innowen's things?"
"I'll have some men look," Taelyn offered. "We captured most of Chohlit's stock. He'd most likely have put your animals with his." He crossed to the doorway. "We'll march within an hour." He left them then.
Innowen looked over at Razkili. His friend had resumed his semi-reclining leg-up position and pretended to examine a bruise on his forearm. He poked and prodded its purpled edge and ran his fingertips over it as if to test its tenderness.
Despite the growing warmth of day, Innowen drew his coverlet up to his chest. "Rascal," he said, "what's bothering you?"
"Damn thing hurts like all the hells," Razkili answered without looking up, "and I've got a lot more like it just as sore."
Innowen let several moments go by. Still, Razkili didn't look at him or say anything. "What's wrong?" Innowen pressed again.
Razkili sat up suddenly and reached for his sandals. Quickly, he wound the straps around his calves and tied them. "Nothing," he said at last. He stood up. "I'll go find our horses. Your friend won't know which ones are ours. Maybe I can find the packs, too." He paused at the entrance, bit his lip, then turned around. "Innocent," he muttered. "That's a good nickname for you." Then he too was gone.
Innowen frowned as he stared at the waving tent flap. Rascal's footprints were plain to see in the dust at the entrance. Someone else might have thought they belonged to Taelyn or his two men. And some of the prints did. But he knew Razkili's. He knew the shape, the outline.
Wearily, he sagged back down on his cot. He hadn't slept enough. Usually, he and Rascal slept the day away and traveled by night. He drew his arm over his eyes again. Gods, how he hated the daylight.
A fly buzzed in his ear, lighted on his arm, flew off, and settled on his chin. He swatted it away. The heat grew inside the tent. The bedclothes, damp with his perspiration, clung to him. He turned onto his side, but that was uncomfortable. He returned to his back, but the fly was waiting for him.
Innowen gripped the sides of the cot and pulled himself to a sitting position. He followed the fly's progress as it circled in the air and finally landed safely away on the other cot. He cursed it and threw a pillow at it. The fly sprang into brief flight, then settled again on the same pillow, as if to taunt him.
He envied the tiny creature's mobility. So small and insignificant, yet it could not only walk, but fly, while he had to lean forward with his hands and lift each of his uncooperative legs and drop them over the side of his cot as he twisted the rest of his body around. It was almost enough to make him laugh. How clumsy he was, so clumsy he even managed to ensnare one unfeeling foot in the coverlet and nearly fall off the cot.
His loin cloth lay close by on the floor where he'd discarded it when he and Razkili had washed each others' cuts and bruises after their rescue from Chohlit. He bent forward, being careful not to overbalance, snatched it up, and wound it around his hips and through his thighs. His kilt, too, lay close. He wrapped the short strip of soft blue cloth about his waist and pinned it with a delicate Osiri brooch Razkili had given him. Taelyn had said they'd leave within the hour. The least he could do was get dressed and be ready.
His sandals proved a bigger problem. He couldn't spot them. He leaned far enough to see over the head of the cot, then beyond the foot. They weren't there. Nor were they on Razkili's side of the tent. Irritably, he levered his hips off the edge and lowered himself to the dirt floor. He might have waited until Razkili returned, but there was a certain pride involved. He let himself fall sideways, twisting as he did, and catching himself on his palms. As he'd suspected, they were under the cot. He drew them out, pushed himself back into a sitting posture, and took a long breath. Then with one elbow hooked over the cot's edge, he began to crawl back up onto his bed.
When Razkili appeared in the entrance, Innowen was sitting with hands folded in his lap, sandals laced, ready to depart. Only the dirt on one side of his kilt gave any indication of his travails. Razkili's gaze flickered to it, then back to meet Innowen's. "I found our horses," he said quietly. "Even the packs with your collection. And our money, too, where we hid it in the bottom of our sleeping rolls. I guess Chohlit hadn't had time to search our things thoroughly." His gaze strayed again to the stain on Innowen's garment, and his shoulders sagged. "I would have dressed you."
"I didn't need your help." Innowen looked down at his hands.
Razkili took a waterskin from a small peg set in one of the tent's cornerpoles. With his back to Innowen, he unstoppered it, but he didn't drink. For what seemed like a long time he stood with his head hung between his shoulders, the untouched container halfway to his lips. At last, he sat slowly down on the edge of his own cot.
"It's the first time you've ever hurt anyone deliberately." Razkili's voice was a bare whisper. "You danced and made them watch."
"I did it to save you," Innowen answered, matching his friend's soft tone. He wanted to reach out and touch Razkili, but the distance between them was too far. "I didn't know what would happen."
Razkili leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, the waterskin dangling from one hand. "You unleashed their darkest desires."
"But I didn't know what those desires were," Innowen insisted. "They might still have killed us. I did what I had to do."
Razkili stared at the waterskin and took a drink. "I know," he said finally. He passed it to Innowen, and their fingers brushed. "But they saw you dance." He hesitated, watching as Innowen lifted the skin and swallowed. Then, hanging his head, he murmured, "I want to see you, too."
Innowen slammed the stopper back in place. "You can't," he snapped. "I've told you before."
"I know," Razkili said again.
"Why do you keep asking me?" Innowen leaned forward, gripping the edge of his cot. His eyes burned; his heart hammered wildly in his chest. It frightened him the way Rascal kept reviving this argument. "Why?" he demanded. "You know the danger. You know what happens to people. I won't risk it, Rascal!"
Razkili looked at his hands. "I'm sorry," he said thickly.
Two soldiers appeared at the entrance. "Taelyn sent us to break your camp," one of them said as Innowen beckoned both of them inside. Razkili rose, and they quickly collapsed his cot.
"We'd better get out of their way," Razkili said. "Taelyn promised to bring the horses around." He bent, gathered Innowen in his arms, and carried him outside.
Innowen clapped a hand over his eyes to shut out the blinding sun. Even the red glare that squeezed between his fingers was painful. He clenched his lids tightly and pressed his face into Razkili's shoulder. Little by little, he dared to peek out until his vision adjusted and he could bear the light of day. "I hate the sun," he said to his friend. He glanced around. The camp bustled with activity. Most of the tents were already struck. A line of pack animals and supply wagons had begun to form. "I don't see Taelyn," he said. "Let's go find him."
"Over there," Razkili managed to point with the same hand that supported Innowen's legs. "He's coming our way."
Innowen shielded his eyes from the sun and spied Taelyn leading three horses. "I'm sorry," he quickly muttered in Rascal's ear.
The Osiri pursed his lips and gave a small nod. He started walking, bearing Innowen's weight easily. Innowen drew a breath, let it out slowly, and sucked in his lower lip. It was not a dignified way to get around, being carried like a child, but he called up as much dignity as he could, as he always did. It was better than crawling in the dirt. He locked his arms about Razkili's neck and studied him in profile. The sun glinted off his short black curls. Light bent around his brow and nose and chin, lending him a beatific radiance. He was handsome, was Rascal, and tall and strong. Innowen thanked the gods for the day he found him.
"I believe these are yours," Taelyn declared. He passed the reins of the three animals into Innowen's hand, and gave a curt nod to Razkili. Innowen recognized their mounts and the pack horse. All his bundles seemed accounted for, the sleeping rolls with their money bags, the bags with his dolls, all the little treasures he and Razkili had elected to bring with them to Whisperstone. "We were lucky, Rascal," Innowen said appraisingly.
"Let me have a litter brought and hitched behind your horse," Taelyn offered as his gaze drifted over Innowen's legs. "You'll be comfortable, and you can sleep as we travel."
"No," Razkili said before Innowen could speak. "That way is for the wounded and the dying. Innocent will ride with me."
Innowen glanced at Razkili with an expression of surprise. Razkili looked back at him and grinned. Innowen let go a long sigh of resignation. Some nicknames just couldn't be lived down, it seemed. His chin dropped to his chest for a moment, and when he looked up, Rascal's grin widened, and the powerful arms that bore him hugged him closer.
"He can't sit on a horse," Taelyn protested. "He's crippled. There's no feeling in his legs!"
"He's not crippled," Razkili answered firmly, his eyes narrowing at that word. "Not while I'm here to be his limbs. Now, come take him for a moment, and hand him up to me after I've mounted. He'll ride in my arms. If he's too much for you to lift, call one of your men."
Taelyn frowned disapprovingly, but he stepped forward and took Innowen in his own arms. "Don't you have anything to say about this?" he said with some exasperation.
Innowen watched as Razkili took his horse's reins and swung one leg high and over. For a moment, his friend lay flat on the animal's bare back, and he remembered that Rascal was still probably a bit stiff and sore from the beating Chohlit had given him, but then he pulled himself erect and reached down with one arm.
Innowen shrugged and gave Taelyn his biggest smile. "I say, hand me up to him when he's mounted," he told his old friend. "If I'm too heavy for you, then call one of your men." He winked suddenly and put on a mock-serious face. "I never argue with him."
"I should drop you, instead," Taelyn muttered as he handed Innowen up into Razkili's embrace.
For an instant, Innowen sat sideways on the horse's withers, his balance precarious. Then Razkili twisted and maneuvered him until one leg slipped over the horse's neck, and he straddled the animal like a proper rider. Finally, one strong arm locked around his waist, and he was settled.
Taelyn helped keep the horse steady by holding its bridle strap until Razkili had a firm grip on the reins. "Can you manage a lead line on your other two beasts?" he asked Innowen, and Innowen nodded. Taelyn disappeared briefly and returned with a rope, which he passed through the bridles of their other two horses. He handed the line to Innowen.
"Now, I've spared enough attention for the pair of you," Taelyn said good-naturedly as he brushed dust from his hands. "I've got an army that needs a little bit of me, too." He turned and pointed to a gathering of mounted soldiers. "You wait with that group forming over there, and I'll join you when we're ready to move out." With that, he left them.
"Ready?" Razkili asked.
Innowen settled back, letting Razkili take his weight. He rested one arm over the arm around his middle and let the hand holding the lead line dangle over Rascal's thigh. Their flesh quickly stuck together wherever they touched, for the day was hot, and already, he had a fine sweat.
Off to his right, a pair of soldiers stared in their direction and whispered to each other. How, he wondered briefly, had Taelyn explained him to his soldiers? He had walked into camp last night. Now, he had to be carried. He couldn't even ride his own horse. Had Taelyn even bothered to explain?
It wasn't important. Let them think what they would. With his free hand, he squeezed the forearm that crossed his belly, feeling the muscle corded beneath the sun-bronzed skin. As if in response, that arm drew tighter about him.
He lifted his head, and the slightest breeze brushed his face. "Ready," he answered.
Chapter 7
Ispor by day was quite different from the Ispor Innowen and Razkili had traveled through at night. Gone were the moonlit mountain peaks and star-speckled rivers, the vast gray and white plains so beautiful in their starkness. Under the sun's searing glare, the land screamed. The grass shriveled into a course brown hair that only grew in clumps and patches. Dust swirled and eddied in the slightest wind. The trees stood like frail and fatigued old men, stooped and twisted, as if even their wilted leaves were too heavy to bear in such torrid heat.
The deeper into Ispor they journeyed, the worse were the effects of the drought. Ponds and small lakes lay like dried-u
p scabs on the earth, leeched of water, the black silt bottoms turned to caked and cracked depressions where fish scales and tiny bones gleamed. Even the larger lakes and streams shrank away from their banks, leaving rings or stretches of mud where clouds of insects droned.
Innowen stood outside his tent remembering all he had seen that day. Though night had fallen, the air was still warm enough to cause a few beads of sweat to trickle down the valley of his chest. He caught them on his fingertips and tasted his own salt tang as he gazed into the distance.
The tent fabric gave a slight rustle as Razkili slipped out and joined him. "What are you thinking about?" he asked, touching Innowen's shoulder.
Innowen let go a long breath and rubbed the ball of his thumb over his lips. "I was remembering that deer carcass we passed," he answered slowly. "It must have died from thirst." He stared toward a faint star that hung just above the horizon. He'd specifically chosen this spot for his tent, on the outer perimeter of the camp, facing away from all the others. It was quieter, more private. It made it easier to steal away when he had to later. "Sometimes I feel like that," he went on softly, "like I'm dying of thirst. Only it's not water that 1 need. I don't know what it is."
Razkili didn't say anything, but his fingers massaged the muscles of Innowen's neck. Innowen leaned his head to the side and closed his eyes, tried to feel nothing at all but the gentle hand doing its work. The wind brushed his nipples, and the dim notes of an unnatural music hovered just at the edge of the night, where only he could hear them. It was almost time.
"I have to dance," he said after a long silence.
Razkili's hand continued to massage. "I know."
"Walk with me," Innowen offered, "but just a little way."
The dry grass made a brittle sound beneath their sandals as they walked through the darkness. Most of the camp was asleep, but as Innowen glanced back over his shoulder, he saw, here and there, the shadows and silhouettes of men who still clustered around a late fire swapping tales, men like himself, he suspected, who belonged more to the night than to the day. He wondered if Taelyn might be among them.
Shadowdance Page 12
