Will Shetterly - Witch Blood

by Witch Blood (v1. 0)

  “She won’t.”

  “Then I won’t begin.” I folded my arms.

  “It’s Talivane’s wish that you teach.”

  “It’s my wish to teach everyone. Everyone includes your master’s wife.”

  “Perhaps the lady does not wish to study war.”

  “Perhaps a ship’s cat does not wish to swim, yet that’s an art it should learn if it’s to go to sea.”

  Feschian nodded. “I’ll speak with Lady Kivakali.”

  “Thank you.”

  We waited in silence for the captain’s return. I wondered if any of my students had yet to hear about Mondivinaw and Chifeo. The day had grown warmer, so I loosened my jacket. Naiji claimed the cold would return, but this weather felt like spring to me.

  Kivakali walked beside Feschian. Her hair was bound in two braids, and she came barefoot, wearing only a sleeveless tunic and loose pants, both the color of sand. Her hair was tied back with a green ribbon.

  “You’ve studied the Art?” I asked, indicating her headband.

  She nodded, blushing. “My father hired a teacher, when I was younger.”

  “Then you should have been prompt.”

  “I didn’t, um, know I’d have time.” Which meant Talivane did not wish it, of course. Kivakali smiled almost flirtatiously at me and looked quickly away. I realized that our roles in Castle Gromandiel were very similar, both of us outsiders, neither of us witches, both of us bound by vows rather than love. I had my skills and my steel weapons to make the witch-folk treat me reasonably well. Kivakali had nothing.

  The class went smoothly enough, excepting Avarineo’s occasional comment. His first was, “If we’re here to study art, where’s paper and charcoal?” That amused the giant sufficiently that he asked it twice. His second was, “Why should we learn to fight? When enemy comes, we’ll just say teacher’s name. They’ll run away with their noses covered, afraid of smelling farts.”

  Shortly after that I asked him to serve me as my model. “Sure,” he said. “Teacher will draw me?” He guffawed.

  Remembering the surprises Chifeo had given me, I told him to stand perfectly still while I demonstrated a few techniques. I kicked near his head a couple of times to warm up, and his long hair whipped nicely with the popping of air. He flinched when my heel stopped at the tip of his nose and stayed there long enough for him to focus on it. I punched and kicked at thirty vulnerable parts of his body in fifteen seconds or so, then quit. Avarineo stood like a wide-eyed statue for the entire exhibition. Afterward he said, “You may have a funny name, R-r-rifkin, but I will treat you as my friend now, for certain.” Then his eyes grew huge as he thought about what he had said. He added, “I planned to treat you as a friend all the time, just like Lady Naiji said. Of course. But now I plan to treat you even more as my friend. Much more as my friend. A whole lot—” I told him that I understood and appreciated this, which appeared to please him.

  There were several in this class who might someday be Artists. The most promising was a girl of seven or eight, who did everything with an expression of perfect seriousness. Captain Feschian had obviously studied with some school before. Her technique was competent but uninspired, as if she had learned what she knew long ago and had practiced alone since then.

  Kivakali seemed too self-conscious to show what she might really be able to do. She often confused the order of the moves when I told the class to practice specific combinations. I suspected that she had only stayed with her earlier teacher for a few months. At one point she apologized for being so awkward. All I could tell her was to concentrate less on how others saw her and more on what she was doing.

  When the afternoon class ended, I went again in search of the dungeons. The first likely door that I tried was to a bath occupied by an older woman from the class I had just dismissed. Her subsequent instructions were useless for finding the dungeons but did much to increase my knowledge of the witches’ dialect.

  The dungeons, when I found them, were damp and cold. The Gromandiels had done little to maintain them. The teak door’s leather hinges protested being opened. The stairs themselves were worn and moss-encrusted, ready to pitch a careless climber to a fatal fall. My torch, taken from the hall, barely burned in the stale, fetid air. Its light seemed to shine no more than a foot or two before me as I descended.

  “Who goes there?” demanded a nervous guard. He jumped up from the low bench on which he had rested, or perhaps slept.

  “Rifkin,” I said. “Rifkin Inquisitor.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Love, security, and the respect of those who know me.”

  “I mean, what do you want here?”

  “Oh. You should have said that.”

  “I did!”

  “So you did. I want to speak with your prisoners. Feschian said I might.”

  “One of them’s in a coma and can’t be roused.”

  “It must be contagious.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind.”

  “He put himself into a death-trance,” the guard whispered confidingly. “They can do that, you know.”

  “I’d heard.”

  “You want to see the serving boy too?”

  “No. Just the others.”

  He nodded, then unlocked a door behind him. “Remember, I’ll be listening to everything you say.”

  “I’m always best with an audience.”

  The room beyond was larger than the guard’s chamber. It was also darker, danker, and a thousand times worse in odor. Three Spirits, all wearing their black assassin’s garb, were manacled to the walls. Their chains appeared to be shiny brass, the only new things in this part of Castle Gromandiel. One spirit lay slack on the mucky floor. The other two, fastened to different walls, turned their faces away from the torch in my hand.

  “Greetings,” I said in Ladizhan. “Anyone feel like betraying the masters on Goon Isle?”

  “Moon Isle!” said one, a young girl.

  “You, eh? Excellent. To begin, who hired you?”

  She turned away and said nothing.

  I sighed. “That was short.” I turned to the other, a boy of Chifeo’s age with a wispy beard. “How about you? Will you talk?”

  “No.”

  “Hah! You just did.” When that clever ploy failed, I said, “I can offer you something.”

  “What?”

  “A quick death now. That’s more than the witches promise.”

  “I’m not afraid of pain.”

  “I heard your companion die last night. I hope he wasn’t afraid of pain either.”

  “He wasn’t.”

  “Good for him. The Gromandiels tortured him for hours. He wasn’t afraid of mutilation either?”

  The Spirit closed his eyes.

  “The Gromandiels are witches,” I said. “Of course, you knew that.”

  “Of course.”

  “And you’ve thought about what witches can do to make you talk, I suppose. Change you into something vile and strange...” I walked away and examined some of the scratchings on the wall. “Look here!” I improvised. “Oh, You can’t. Sorry. It seems someone started a poem. ”There once was a witch from the east, who was fond both of man and of beast—‘ That’s all. Maybe you’ll have time to finish it before the Gromandiels start on you. But I doubt it.“

  I walked to the door, then turned back. “You may think I’m not being very understanding, but I am. See my sword?” I drew it halfway to show them the steel. “I’m as human as you are. I wouldn’t want those witches to toy with me. You’d think they’d let you die human, but I doubt they’ll even let you have that little bit of dignity. Back at Moon Isle, your fellows will probably say...” I walked up to the male. “What’s your name?”

  He spat at me.

  I jumped back. “Spittle, then. They’ll probably say, remember young Spittle? Died as a slug. Horrible thing, dying as a slug. Me, I’d take an honorable death any day. But not young Spittle. Maybe he wanted to be a slu—”

/>   “Shut up!”

  “Maybe Spittle wasn’t a real human at all. Maybe his mother had a thing for witches.”

  The boy lunged at me as if he expected to tear his chains from the wall.

  “It’s your choice,” I said. “Tell me who sent you, and die human. Or die as a mangled thing, knowing that word will travel through every holding of Spirit Dancers of your incompetence.”

  “Why?”

  I gave him a cruel grin. “Because I’ll tell everyone I meet of the young Spirit with the mole on his left cheek. I’ll tell how he gave away his entire band with his clumsiness, then begged pathetically to be spared.”

  “It’ll be a lie!”

  “True. So?”

  “I can’t trust you.”

  “I don’t blame you. But you know what the witches offer. Mutilation, transformation... They’ll learn more from you than I need to know, Spirit. They’ll learn all that I’d ask of you, and then they’ll learn everything that ever shamed you. Then they’ll laugh at you, toy with you—”

  “What of her?” He indicated the girl, who listened with a sneer.

  “She’ll tell no tales.”

  “You’ll be quick?”

  “Yes.”

  “With her too?”

  “Yes.”

  The girl cried to him, “Don’t—”

  “Lady Kivakali hired us.”

  I nodded as though this did not surprise me, then turned to go-

  “Wait! Our bargain!”

  I shook my head.

  His eyes widened. “But—”

  “Lord Death may be your best friend, but I won’t send you to him.”

  “You lied!”

  “Yes.”

  “You vile, dung-eating—” His face was contorted in rage and frustration.

  “Call me an honorless bit of slime,” I suggested. “That’s what I feel like.”

  I left him cursing in the dark.

  * * *

  12

  CASTLE GROMANDIEL

  THE GUARD GLARED at me as I closed the cell door. “You spoke in a foreign tongue!”

  “Did I?” I shook my head in sympathy. “Mother and Son, southerners are sneaky.”

  “What’d you tell them?”

  “That’d I’d kill them if they would tell me who hired them.”

  He laughed. “I can’t imagine that was effective.”

  “No.” I started up the stairs. “Probably not.”

  Captain Feschian waited for me in the hall. I nodded at her and moved to pass by, but she shifted to block me.

  “What’d they tell you?”

  “You listened?”

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  “Never mind that. What’d they say?”

  “I didn’t think you just happened to be visiting the cells while I was.”

  “No, Rifkin. What did they say?”

  “Exactly?”

  “Yes.”

  “Very well.” I began to repeat the Spirit’s story in Ladizhan.

  She sighed. “Don’t play with me, Rifkin. Talivane may be the only one of us who can use his power directly against someone wearing iron—”

  “What about Mondivinaw?”

  “You’re a stickler for details.”

  I shrugged. “I try to keep things straight.”

  “An unending battle, I’m sure.” Before I could say anything, she continued. “Understand this, Rifkin. There are ways for a witch to kill someone near iron. For example, I could loosen the stones over your head. The backlash would make me nauseous, but you’d still be dead.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “I don’t enjoy threatening you, Rifkin. But even Talivane will seem more patient than I am if you frustrate me in my duty.”

  “Which is?”

  “To protect the people in this castle.”

  “What am I, a tree?”

  “Rifkin.” Something in her voice reminded me of Naiji speaking to Avarineo.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t know what you are, but I’d like to think you’re a part of us. Do me a favor and help me believe it.”

  “And what’s Kivakali? Is she a part of ‘us’?”

  “She’s Talivane’s wife.”

  I shook my head. “That’s not an answer.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “The Spirits implicated her?”

  “The boy did. He said she hired them.”

  “That’s all he said?”

  “I thought it was enough.”

  “I wish Naiji’d been there to listen for truth.”

  “I doubt I could get him to repeat it.”

  Feschian fingered an old scar that ran along her jaw. “Did you believe him?”

  I thought about that for a long moment. “I don’t know. I’d rather not.”

  She nodded. “So would I.”

  “Could Kivakali have had the chance to hire Spirits?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You could guess,” I said.

  “Hmm.” Feschian looked at me, then said reluctantly, “She might have.”

  “And the inclination?”

  Feschian looked away.

  I said, “You’ve seen how Talivane treats her.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, then?”

  “I almost wouldn’t blame her, if she tried,” Feschian said. Then her features grew harsher. “I’d still stop her.”

  “Of course.”

  Feschian said, “The Spirits’ leader said Talivane and Naiji were their targets. That doesn’t mean they were their only targets.”

  I glanced at her.

  She said, “Who’ll you tell?”

  “Naiji.”

  She understood. “Your bond.”

  “Yes.”

  Cautiously, Feschian said, “We shouldn’t do the Spirits’ work for them.”

  I stared, and she nodded slowly. Her message was plain enough. If the Gromandiels thought Kivakali might be their enemy, Kivakali would die. But if I told no one and Kivakali was truly an enemy, Naiji might die.

  “What do you want me to do?” I said.

  “Trust me. Tell no one. Watch Kivakali. And guard Naiji. That’s all.”

  “May I sleep and eat as well?”

  “In your spare time.”

  “Spare time. Right.”

  “Well?”

  “I’ll watch Kivakali.”

  “What’ll you tell Naiji?”

  “To trust no one.”

  Feschian studied me, then smiled. “You’re a good man, Rifkin.”

  “Everyone says so.” I stepped by her.

  “Dinner’ll be ready soon.”

  “We eat later in the south.”

  “I doubt anyone’ll save your share.”

  “Dinner sounds like a good idea, now that you mention it.”

  Actually I was far from hungry, for the taste of the business in the dungeons was still thick in my mouth. I only said that to see if Feschian would smile, and she did. The lines around her eyes deepened. She had never been a beauty, and her broken nose should have made her ugly, but her strength and her character made her face very pleasant to look upon.

  I started to walk toward the dining hall. Feschian stopped me with a hand on my shoulder and jerked her head in the other direction. “This way.”

  “I’ll never learn my way around here.”

  “We’re not going to dinner yet. Come.”

  “Where?”

  “Come.”

  I shrugged and followed. We went outside, into the empty courtyard, and climbed the broad, stone stairs to the rear wall where Castle Gromandiel butted against the cliff. I looked up, seeing only bare rock, and higher up, the snow line. I turned and looked west. The sun was close to setting. A few clouds made swatches of pink and purple across the sky. The valley was already dark, though several naked tree tops caught the sun’s last rays to shine like silver sculptures in the sea of evergreens.

  “It
’s pretty,” I said. “Why’d you bring me here?”

  “Because Komaki’s coming.”

  “What?”

  She nodded, either grimly or wearily. “You’ve known that.”

  “I didn’t expect it so soon.”

  “Naiji just told me, maybe half an hour ago.”

  “How many soldiers?”

  “We still don’t know. Perhaps sixty, perhaps six hundred.”

  I smiled at that. “Your scouts can’t count? Or is this a seer’s report? If Dovriex sampled some bad mushrooms and dreamed—”

  “Our scouts are birds, Rifkin. They understand a few and a lot. That’s all.”

  “Oh.”

  “Want a tour of the defenses?”

  “I’ve done a little looking on my own.”

  “You don’t say.” She indicated the cliff with a jerk of her chin. “We’re fairly safe here.”

  “They can’t get above us?”

  “Not even if they were goats.”

  “What if they were mountaineers?”

  “If you’re trying to say the Spirits may have come this way, I know that already. I’ll leave a few youths here with an elder who knows about war. They can shout for help if they need it.”

  I nodded. “Sounds reasonable.”

  The southeast wall grew out of the mountain, thirty feet above a narrow lip. Beyond that was a sheer drop for far too many feet. This was the route Naiji and I had taken the night before, climbing endlessly up a knotted line. My arms ached to remember it.

  “This is probably our safest post. We’ll only need a guard or two up here,” Feschian said, looking down to where Avarineo watched. “And that’s only in case they learn to fly.”

  I thought she was making a joke. Then I remembered that the Spirits were willing to employ witches to battle witches. Komaki might too.

  “Avarineo would be better used elsewhere.”

  “I know. I thought Livifal and Sivifal could take turns on this wall.”

  “Livifal and Sivifal?”

  “The twins. Dovriex’s sisters.”

  “Ah.”

  The southwest wall looked over most of the valley. The old trading road was visible in a few places as a dark line cutting through the trees. The ground sloped steeply up to the wall, so that a soldier would have to scramble on all fours through brush and loose rock. It would not be easy for armored warriors to climb with scaling ladders on their backs and a fusillade of arrows about their heads, but it could be done if they were determined.