He seemed amused by my irritation, which only made it worse. The headache’s not his fault, I reminded myself.
“I suppose I should have said something about that,” he said. “I’ve been giving it a lot of thought, and I think I know of some people who might have the information we need, who may be willing to help you.”
“Fantastic!”
“But they’re hard to locate. They move around a lot, and I’m not sure where they’ll be right now.”
“Are they Wanderers?”
“No, they just disappear frequently. But they tend to be more intelligent than most people, and they have access to a lot of information. Since I can’t go back to the libraries in Luid, they’re our best chance at figuring out what exactly happened to you and how we can undo it.”
“But you have no idea where to find them?”
He shrugged, and looked toward the sky. “Johen told me that there’s some nasty weather coming in from the northwest. There’s a lake just north of here where wealthy people from Luid keep summer homes. It should be deserted now, we’ll ride out the storm there.”
His horse was several paces ahead of mine before he noticed that I’d stopped.
“Wait,” I said. “I’ve been missing from home for what, five days? I haven’t been able to tell my family that I’m all right, I don’t even know if I am all right, my headaches only seem to be getting worse, and you’re telling me that we’re going to take a few days for a little lakeside vacation? Please tell me you’re not serious.” I knew I was acting like a petulant child, but had always found it hard to control my mind and mouth when I was in pain.
He didn’t say anything until I nudged my horse to move forward and caught up with him. His face was nearly expressionless, but there was a hardness there that I couldn’t read. I thought at first that he was trying to keep his temper in check, that I’d crossed some line by questioning him. Then I realized he was trying not to laugh. At least a good night’s sleep had improved someone’s mood.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “This is just ridiculous.”
“What, me?”
“No, all of it. Everything that’s happened in the past few days. If I’m handling this badly, it’s because I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m usually giving orders or following them, not discussing plans with people. Especially not with someone like you.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know how to take that.
“Did you have another idea about where we should go?”
He knew damned well that I didn’t. I scowled at him. “I just want to know what’s going on. How exactly are we going to find these mysterious people?”
“There’s a good chance they’re at the lake.”
“You might have mentioned that.”
“Might have.” He smiled to himself and nudged his horse forward.
I rolled my eyes and followed. The remorseless killer thinks it’s amusing to tease me. Fantastic.
We turned when we came to a narrow road that cut through rolling, forested land, and I passed the time by observing Aren as he rode slightly ahead of me and to my left. Such a confusing person. Since I’d met him he’d hurt people, done things to their minds, killed them. But while I knew those things were wrong, he’d done them to keep us safe. As I spent more time with him, it all seemed to fade to insignificance. He’d been nicer to me since the incident at the fire, when he’d cut himself. Not friendly, exactly, but more relaxed and less cold. Sometimes it was easy to dislike him, but at other times he seemed like the sort of person I could get used to having around. He was certainly more interesting than anyone I knew back home.
When he said “just north of here” I imagined an hour’s ride, maybe two. I was wrong. We stopped to eat and to tend to the horses before we got to the lake, and all Aren could tell me was that it wasn’t too much farther. I was beginning to realize that his concept of distance was far different from mine, and resigned myself to another night of being kept awake by my aching butt.
Sunset found us on a bare dirt trail that meandered around a massive lake, weaving in and out of the forest. Dozens of islands dotted the glassy water, and docks jutted out from the shore in small clusters with broad stretches of land between them. Even if they knew we were in the area it would take someone forever to search every house.
I hoped we’d be settling in at one of the closest places. The ones I could see were beautiful. These people’s summer homes were bigger and better-built than most of the houses in my hometown. My spirits lifted as I anticipated a hot drink and a soft bed, and soon.
The sun became a sliver of pink light beyond the now-distant mountains, and still we rode. I pointed out a few nice-looking places, but Aren seemed to want to get as far from the road as we could. I gave up and followed, silently cursing him with every step my horse took.
The path grew narrower and rockier, and we dismounted to lead the horses over the uneven ground. I was so close to falling asleep on my feet that I nearly collided with the back of Aren’s horse when he stopped in front of me and turned up a dark path.
“Oh, thank goodness,” I said, and a loon yodeled back from somewhere across the lake. I pulled my cloak tighter, and followed the horse’s rear toward a house, hoping that this place would be even better than the others I’d seen.
It wasn’t. It was nice enough, two levels and certainly more than enough space for two people. The wide-windowed, wood-paneled building sat on a broad stone foundation, solid but plain. It didn’t look nearly as rich or as comfortable as the other houses.
A white chicken burst into the clearing that surrounded the building and dashed back into the forest on the far side. Other than that, the place seemed deserted.
“Trust me,” Aren said, and led the way around back, where a stable shared a wall with the house. It was unlocked, and it only took us a few minutes to put the horses’ tack away and turn them out to forage.
We searched all around for a key. Aren found one on top of the door frame, but the door remained stuck closed. I remembered the magic Aren had done with the gate lock when we took the horses. “Can you open it?” I asked, hoping he wasn’t going to burn himself again.
“I think so.” He cracked his knuckles, then backed up a few steps and ran forward to slam his shoulder into the door, which groaned gently and popped open.
“Not exactly what I was thinking.”
He grinned and pushed his hair back from his face. “I know. Come on in.”
The moonlight from the windows cast eerie shadows on the interior of the cabin, and I hesitated before stepping into the large, open space inside of the door. A group of chairs and a sofa formed a seating area to the right. To my left was a kitchen with only a counter separating it from the rest of the room, and a dining table. Aren pulled a few candles out of his bag and lit them, pressing the bottoms into holders as we found them, making the room far more inviting in spite of the chill that remained in the air.
An open door at the back of the kitchen area led to a room with a large bed. A smaller bed sat in the back, with storage shelves hung on the wall above it. “This will be the best place to sleep for now,” Aren said. “If we light the stove, it’ll be warmer in here than upstairs.” We left our things there and I continued exploring the house.
A hallway behind the sitting area led to a clean toilet room and a back door that opened onto the garden. A good-sized hen house had been left with the door open. Nothing grew in the garden except for a healthy crop of weeds and a few of the summer’s leftover vegetable plants, all picked clean. Beyond that, the forest stood silent and shadowed. I pulled the door closed and made sure it was locked before I left it.
The back half of the house had a second level with a wide staircase leading up to an open area flanked by two bedrooms. The beds up there looked more comfortable than the ones downstairs, but the air was freezing. I closed the doors to both rooms and hurried back downstairs.
Aren had both the wood stove and the fireplace lit and was busy looking t
hrough the kitchen cupboards. “We should be fine as far as food goes,” he said, his voice muffled by the cabinet doors. He stepped back and closed them. “Lots of preserves, and whoever was living here left some fruits and a few vegetables in the freshbox that still look good.”
“That’s impossible, unless they left this week.”
He shook his head, bemused. “I don’t know how you people survive, really. There are probably a few of those chickens outside, can you catch them?”
“Not my favorite thing, but I can do it.” All I cared about at that moment was sleep. The night at the inn had been helpful, but letting Aren sleep while we were with the Wanderers had left me with only a few hours to rest. I wondered if my body would ever adjust to life at this pace.
I went back to the small room off of the kitchen and sat on the edge of the small bunk to remove my boots. Having my feet free felt incredible. I groaned and wiggled my toes.
Aren followed me and leaned against the door-frame. “What are you doing?”
I looked down at my feet. “Taking off my boots. Sorry.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose like he was getting one of my headaches. “No, I mean what are you doing on that bed? The other will be more comfortable.”
I gestured toward the large bed. “It’s all yours. I got the only bed the other night at the inn. Besides, you’re bigger than me. I’m sure this will be fine.”
He frowned and looked out the door at the exposed rafters. “Thank you, but it’s probably better if I change.”
The disappointment that flashed through me caught me by surprise. I tossed my boots into the corner of the room. “Why? Why is it better? Do I make you uncomfortable? Do you find me less irritating when you’re not human?”
“I told you, it’s easier for me to stay alert that way. Obviously it doesn’t always work, but I’d like to avoid repeating the other morning if we can.”
I brushed past him and went to the kitchen window. The lake was visible through the trees, glowing in the cloud-diffused moonlight. “So you think they’re here now?”
He sighed. “No. There’s no one around.”
“Why don’t you get one more good sleep while you can? You seemed so much better today after you stayed human overnight.”
“I’m fine.”
I let the curtains fall closed, then sat at the oak table and traced the patterns in the wood with my fingers. “I know it probably seems silly to you, but I also find it’s a little less lonely when you’re a person. Even when you’re not talking to me.”
He raised his eyebrows.
That never crossed your mind? Maybe he didn’t get lonely the way I did.
“You’re right,” he said, and rubbed a hand over the stubble that had grown back on his face since we’d left the inn. It looked good. Really good. He didn’t seem to notice me studying him, and I enjoyed it while I could. He looked over, and my heart skipped as his eyes met mine. “I should try to sleep, and if we’re lucky Severn won’t be able to locate us. He might be too busy to focus on that right now. That’s not the only thing, though. It’s—hang on.”
He rolled up his sleeves, pumped water from the faucet into a big kettle and set it on the stove. I suddenly realized that he was familiar with this house. I would have asked, but didn’t want to distract him if he was about to tell me something about himself.
As he moved around the kitchen, I caught a glimpse of the inside of his left arm. A clean white scar divided it, all that was left of where he’d cut himself so badly. That bit of insanity was starting to seem like a dream. A nightmare, really, but I could forgive him for it. I certainly wouldn’t go so far as to thank him for that pain, but…
“You don’t seem like a villain,” I said, the words out of my mouth before I could stop them.
He frowned at me as he poured steaming water into a tea pot. “What do you mean?”
Can’t you just shut your mouth? I asked myself. I didn’t listen. I didn’t usually. “Just that you aren’t what I expected you to be. Any time I’ve heard people talk about your family, they were afraid. Sometimes they tried to sound brave when they mentioned how powerful you all are, or horrible things you’ve done, but I could always tell they were covering up their fear. According to my brother, you’re practically the Big Bad Wolf. You know, like from—”
“Fairy stories, I know. I’m familiar with the concept.” He set the tea pot and cups on the table.
“I just mean that you’ve been helping me, even when I thought I didn’t want you to. Even when you didn’t seem to want to, actually. You’re not what I’d call friendly most of the time, but you’ve been teaching me things…” My words trailed off, and I cleared my throat. “I guess you just don’t seem like a bad person, when you let your guard down a little.”
He stood frozen in the space between the kitchen and the table, and stared at me. “Don’t say that,” he said quietly. He sank into the chair across from me and drummed his fingers on the table.
“I’m sorry?”
He flexed his fingers, and the scar on his forearm stood out more clearly. “It’s not you. I should have told you a lot of things already, but I was… I don’t know. You didn’t seem to know much about me, and I didn’t want to frighten you off. And then I started to enjoy having you around, and I didn’t want you to think badly of me. I mean, you ask too many questions, and it makes things difficult.”
“I—”
“But I actually like that you’re curious about magic, and everything else your people didn’t want you to know about. It was nice feeling like I could help you with some of that. But that’s not who I truly am, and you need to understand that. I’m not who you just described. I can’t be. Not in the real world.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “If you were really bad or untrustworthy, you’d have shown it by now. You’d have left me to be eaten by that dragon.”
“You got out of that yourself.”
“You were there, though. You came looking for me. I think it probably took a lot for you to stay with me at the inn when you could have just flown away and saved yourself. If you were such a bad person, you’d be at home in Luid right now. You wouldn’t have bothered to save me from your brother. You’re tired and under a lot of pressure, and that would bring out the worst in anyone, but you haven’t shown that at all. You’ve been a bit of a jerk sometimes, but underneath that you’ve been trying to do the right thing.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” He pushed his hair back from his face and squeezed his eyes closed.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m thinking.” He took a deep breath, then stood and started pacing. “What have you actually heard about me?”
“Not much. You’re sort of a blank to most people I’ve heard talking about your family. They don’t seem to know why, but they’re as afraid of you as they are of Severn, or even of your father.”
“That sounds about right. How do I explain this?” He continued pacing, and for once I managed to keep my mouth shut while I waited. “I have three brothers, all older. My father was the king, and he was always busy while I was growing up. My brothers were able to do work for him before I was, so I was left behind. Like a spare, almost. My father didn’t need me, but Severn saw my potential after he tried to kill me.”
“What?”
“It happens. I survived, and Severn eventually realized that instead of getting rid of a rival, he could use me to strengthen his own power. When our father put him in charge of keeping peace in the outer provinces, making sure that no one who opposed him was able to make trouble, Severn took a more aggressive approach than others had in the past. He got rid of those people. Not personally, but he made sure it was taken care of.”
“Taken care of by people like the gang that attacked my group on the road to Ardare?” I thought I knew where this was going, but I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want a reason to be afraid of him again.
&n
bsp; “He uses people like that for big jobs. Out of control crowds, guarding his own safety. A lot of the time, though, Severn relies on subtler methods of getting things done, methods that are actually more frightening for his enemies because they don’t understand what’s happening and can’t prepare for it. He doesn’t want people to be able to prove that he’s responsible for these things that happen to them. He can’t be openly accused of murder. Or massacre. Or—”
“I get it.” I shuddered, remembering the magic hunter my brother told me about. It had been so easy to forget.
Aren crouched in front of me and looked into my eyes. His looked pained. Angry. “I don’t think you do. The rest of us all support Severn. There’s nothing else for us to do. He won’t allow rival sorcerers to live, not if they’re any kind of a threat, not even if they’re family. I hate him, but I do what he wants. Or I did, until I met you. I had no choice. I’ve been well-rewarded for my efforts, though. I had a good life in Luid, and often I didn’t even feel badly about the things that I did, or the things I’m still doing to keep us safe. I think my brothers enjoy it. Wardrel has killed children while their mothers screamed for mercy and laughed while he was doing it.”
My hands gripped hard onto the edge of my chair. “You’re not like that.”
“No, I’m not him. But you have to understand that while what I do is subtler, it can be just as cruel in its own way.”
“The mind-control.”
He nodded. “I’m good at it, too. My methods aren’t perfect, but I’ve incited riots by working on a few key people and using their influence to set off a crowd like an explosion. I’ve turned people against their own brothers, wives, parents. I once made a man kill his best friend, a Sorcerer who had plans to challenge my father. That one drowned himself when he realized what he’d done. I’ve never killed a child as far as I know, but I’ve probably made a few orphans.”
“Probably? You don’t even know?”
He stood again and moved a few paces away. “No. I do my work, and I get out of town before anyone knows I’ve been there. I don’t enjoy what I do as much as Wardrel does, and I don’t mastermind plans like Severn does, though I am one of his close advisers. But I’ve done as much damage as any of my family. Severn made me what I am, and it was his idea that I learn how to do this. As I said, he doesn’t know everything I’m capable of, but—”
FIERCE: Sixteen Authors of Fantasy Page 162
