Will Shetterly - Witch Blood

by Witch Blood (v1. 0)

  “Half our force will be along this wall,” Feschian said.

  “Half,” I repeated, counting them in my mind.

  “Yes.”

  “Does that include the hearth cat?”

  She did not smile. “Probably.”

  The main gate stood in the middle of the northeast wall, which was the shortest wall of the four. A moat had been carved centuries ago, and a trickle of water flowed through it from the melting snows. Splashing through knee-deep ice water might slow a few soldiers, but it would not stop them. The gate itself showed a few signs of rot. I wondered if Komaki had sufficient funds for cannon. That he could afford to hire a band of Spirits told me he was not poor.

  “We’ll put the rest here,” Feschian said.

  “How many’s that? Four warriors and a couple of well-meaning farmers?”

  “And several children.”

  “Oh, of course. How could I forget the children?”

  “They can help. They’ll bring weapons, deliver messages—”

  “I know,” I said. I sat on the parapet and stared out at the sunset. “What’s our store of arrows?”

  “Two or three hundred.”

  “Steel-tipped?”

  “A few. Mostly bronze or fire-hardened.”

  “Will Talivane’s trick with the lightning help us?”

  “For a little while. But when he exhausts his power...” Feschian shrugged.

  “How many could he kill before that happens?”

  “Ten. Maybe twelve.”

  “Any of the rest of you have any helpful surprises?”

  “A few. Nothing to count on, especially if Komaki’s force is large. Magic is very tiring, and several successive spells would leave most of us too exhausted to do anything more. Best to plan to wage this battle conventionally.”

  I nodded. “Any secret weapons you’ve yet to tell me of? An alliance with giant mountain lizards? An army of the undead? A cache of slingshots?”

  “Two slingshots.”

  “Great.”

  “There’s an old musket in the armory. It might still fire.”

  “I’m overjoyed.” I looked around. The walls were dotted with piles of rocks and wood, ready to be dumped on attackers below. While I looked, two witches came with buckets to the central well, so I knew they were stocking up on water in case Komaki’s force breached the walls and we had to retreat to the central keep. Feschian was obviously competent; I doubted there was anything she had overlooked.

  “You’ve sent out hunters?”

  “Yes. Two archers and a falconer, and several herbalists, as well.”

  “How long could we stand a siege?”

  “Three weeks, maybe four.”

  “Eating how often?”

  “Once a day, very little.”

  I thought about this. “What about your Queen? Can we hope for her help?”

  “Of course. Hope is free.”

  “Oh.”

  “Well? Any suggestions?”

  “One. Surrender.”

  “Komaki’s often said he’d never allow a witch to live.”

  I looked at her. “I understand why Talivane wants to stay. He’s trapped by his pride. What excuse do the rest of you have?”

  “Loyalty.”

  “Stupidity.”

  “No, Rifkin. You’ve only seen one side of Talivane’s nature. He can be kind. He gave us all homes when we had none.”

  “Is a home worth a life?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “If you’re so wise, why do you stay here?”

  I looked away, and we walked to the dining hall in silence. Talivane nodded to us from his seat. Feschian told him, “I showed Rifkin the walls.”

  “Good,” he said.

  Naiji smiled at me. “What did you think?”

  “A great view,” I said. “You should open a resort for the wealthy.”

  Talivane laughed. “A little late for that, I fear.”

  Kivakali sat beside her husband. She never looked up at me.

  Dinner consisted of more bear stew. I ate my share without regrets. If there are gods who judge us, surely they think it appropriate that the bear, dying while trying to take my life, now helped to sustain it. Most people ate with gusto, which told me that Komaki’s advance was not yet common news. Avarineo sat glumly, eating raw tubers. I caught his glance once, and he looked away. Perhaps he still wanted vengeance on me for the bear’s death. This afternoon’s demonstration might only have convinced him to be subtle when he finally attacked me. I wondered what Avarineo would consider subtle. I decided that if we were both standing near a cliff and the giant suddenly shouted, “Look! Magrath’s comet!” I would not look.

  I was wiping the last bits of stew from my bowl with a crust of flatbread when Talivane stood. The hall quieted, except for a few infants. Talivane said, “I have news for you all. Komaki is coming.”

  Several people stood in anger or fear. Talivane raised his open hands and smiled soothingly. “He’s not here yet. We have until tomorrow, at least.”

  “How do you know?” asked one of the red-haired twins, Livifal or Sivifal.

  Talivane turned to the scarred fencer. He said, “I spoke with a hawk.”

  The other twin said, “Which?”

  “Old Firewing.”

  Both twins nodded. One said, “Probably true, then. Stardart couldn’t tell the difference between a merchant’s wagon and a cannon on wheels, and all Young Firewing remembers are mice and hares. Old Firewing can be trusted.”

  The fencer smiled patiently. “That’s what I thought.”

  “How far away are they?” asked Dovriex.

  “Ten miles, maybe fifteen,” Naiji said.

  “I expect them tomorrow afternoon,” Talivane stated. “So we have until then to prepare. Perhaps longer. If they arrive late, they may not attack until the following morning.”

  The plump shape-changer stood. “I’ve thought about this. We should attack them first.” He spoke with determination, then looked around for approval. Avarineo pounded his fist on the table in agreement. I wondered if these two were friends.

  “Oh?” Talivane turned to him. “How?”

  “I could go and have a look-see. Might learn something.”

  “And you might not.”

  “Might kill a few.” He grinned.

  “The risk isn’t worth it.” Talivane smiled at the man. “We’ll need you here, Fat Cat.”

  Dovriex said, “They keep too much steel around them to try for a sending.”

  Talivane nodded. “I suspect there’s nothing we can do tonight.”

  “What about your hawks?” I asked. “How well can you control them?” Everyone stared at me as if I’d materialized among them at that instant. “Just asking,” I said.

  “We control them well,” said Talivane. “Why?”

  I hesitated because I seemed to be the only one aware that we made our plans to defeat Komaki in the presence of his daughter. Kivakali continued to sit passively, so I said, “Could they carry tins of hot coal to drop on the Duke’s tents?”

  Talivane stroked his lip with his index finger. “Interesting.” He glanced at Naiji.

  She shook her head. “Not the hawks. Not in the dark, anyway. And tin would get too hot for their talons. And the camp’s too far for them to fly burdened.”

  I shrugged. “How am I doing in the stupidest question of the night contest?”

  Naiji smiled. “You haven’t won yet, Rifkin. The owls may be able to help us. We could put the coals into clay pots with handles of twine. The owls might be able to carry them comfortably.”

  Talivane said, “Any other suggestions, Rifkin?”

  “What other animals do you control?”

  Naiji said, “We don’t control any, as you think of it. We speak with them.”

  “Mindspeaking?”

  “Something like that. Iron Eyes there is our falconer.” She tipped her head toward the thin fencer. “But Livifal’s better at talking with the birds. Sivi
fal’s talents are with fish. Avarineo speaks with most animals, but Feschian is good with small ones. And Talivane has an affinity with snakes and lizards.”

  “I should have guessed that.”

  Talivane smiled. “Annoy me more, Rifkin, and you would do well to search your bed for my friends before you lie in it.”

  I kept myself from offering a retort concerning Naiji.

  Naiji said, “Why do you want to know these things?”

  “They may be useful. Could you arrange for an army of, say, moose and bear and forest cat and such to battle Komaki?”

  Naiji shook her head. “We communicate with many beasts, but we can only command a few. Most animals know enough to fear armed warriors in large numbers.”

  “Any other suggestions?” Talivane asked.

  I nodded. “I gave one to your captain, but she didn’t like it.”

  “What was it?”

  “Surrender. But from what I hear about Komaki, abandoning this castle might be the better idea.”

  He squinted at me. “You don’t think we can defend it?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “Then we’ll do it.”

  “Swimming from Land’s End to Palm Isle in winter is also possible,” I said. “Still, no one’s managed to do it.”

  “If we run from Komaki, our cause will mean nothing.”

  “Neither will your lives, if you don’t.”

  “Oh? And where would we go if we left, Rifkin? Who would take us in?” He hesitated, and I started to speak, but he said, “Don’t tell me again of Witchhold if you can’t lead us to it.” He glanced around. “Anyone have any intelligent suggestions?”

  No one spoke. I glanced at Kivakali and saw that she stared at me. The moment our eyes met, she looked away. I thought I saw tension in her face, though I might not have. I might have only seen what I expected to see. Perhaps she was only a little drunk and very weary of plans in which she would take no part.

  “There’s much that should be done,” Feschian announced. “We’ll divide into smaller groups and work late.”

  I chose Dovriex’s crew and sliced thin strips of venison for most of the night. When the smoking racks were full and the hickory fires burned properly beneath them, I staggered off for a much-desired sleep.

  * * *

  13

  CASTLE GROMANDIEL

  THE SCREAM THAT woke me during my second night in Castle Gromandiel was higher and shriller than the one I’d heard the night before. Stories are told in Loh about the girl who cried “Shark!” and I admit that a nagging feeling I had done all this before kept me from hurrying as much as I might have. I grabbed my cloak as well as my short sword and only tried the connecting door to Naiji’s room once before I hurried into the hall. My first call was “Lady Naiji!” After listening for a second or two, my second was “Feschian!”

  I heard light, quick footsteps, and then the captain’s voice. “Perhaps we should give you a schedule of the events of the day, Rifkin.”

  “It’d be amusing to see. Dinner at dusk, conversation until nine, and don’t miss everyone’s favorite, the midnight death shrieks at, ah...”

  “Yes?”

  “Midnight,” I finished lamely. “Naiji’s well?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why don’t you tell me what’s happening? It’d make life easier for both of us.”

  “You needn’t know.”

  I heard something harsh, possibly annoyance, perhaps disapproval, in her voice. I said, “And you needn’t either?”

  I listened to the silent hallway until she said “No.”

  “What do you think they’re doing?”

  “You tell me, Rifkin.”

  I bit my lip as I thought, then said, “It’s sorcery, probably. Involving the Spirits, almost certainly. I assume that if anyone asks, we’ll hear that another one died during questioning?”

  “Probably.”

  I thought of the quality of the shriek and guessed, “The girl?”

  “Yes.”

  I remembered her, sneering at us in the dungeon. I hoped her end was quick. And then I pitied her companion more, the fearful boy who still waited. Would he follow tomorrow evening? Or would Chifeo take his place?

  “Why’s Talivane doing this?”

  “Why does he do anything? To help our cause, I’m sure.”

  “You’ve no sympathy for the Spirits?” I said, not expecting any.

  “No. But that doesn’t mean I like this. I hope Talivane learns all he needs, soon.”

  “So do I. Will this happen again tomorrow at midnight?”

  “I don’t know,” Feschian said, and I wished for enough light to see her face. A thought flashed through my mind. Not with so much iron near, and left as quickly.

  “What is it?” Feschian’s voice was quick and suspicious.

  “Nothing,” I said, perhaps too fast, trying to hide my fear. I knew, in that moment, who had struck down Mondivinaw, and why.

  “You’re sure?”

  I made myself smile, for I assumed that she watched me with witchsight. “Of course.” I lie fairly well when I must.

  “Whatever you say, Rifkin.”

  “Did you learn anything more about Kivakali?” I asked.

  “No. You?”

  “No. Watch Naiji, watch Kivakali, and try to save this castle. I doubt it’s possible to do one of those things well, let alone all three.”

  “Probably not. Go sleep, Rifkin. You have your class to give in the morning, and archery’s been added to the schedule.”

  “It has? Thanks for telling me.”

  ‘Think nothing of it. I’ve been trying to tell you many things. It’s nice that one’s gotten through.“ She patted my arm to say the insult was not meant, then left me.

  I returned calmly enough to my room and put aside my cloak and sword. What I wanted was a skin or two of wine, but I doubted I could find the kitchen or the cellar in the dark. I didn’t want to wander near Talivane’s quarters, not even by accident. I was not afraid of being found. I was afraid of what I would find, and what it would mean to my vow to Naiji. I had enough worries already. I did not need to go looking for more.

  I shoved the pallet against the wall, then stood nude at the center of the small room. I began to walk the first pattern of the Art, transforming each ugly killing technique into a dancer’s action, or at least trying. The second pattern was more difficult, which pleased me, and I moved faster, striking harder. By the time I’d finished the third, I was racing. I executed each action with twice the strength that was needed, and three times the speed. My teachers would have been furious.

  I made myself see opponents at each end of each part of the fourth pattern, so the move called “heron takes flight” ripped three ribs from Talivane’s side, and the one called “cat scratches” tore Izla Seaprince’s testicles from his body. “Dragon leaps” needed someone, so I set a faceless Spirit there, but as my foot almost tore his head from his neck, he suddenly had a face, the face of the girl Spirit who had died this evening. That made me stumble, which was never a part of the fourth pattern. I had the choice of crying or continuing, so I continued, from fifth to sixth to seventh....

  “Rifkin?” Naiji’s voice came from the hall. “What’re you doing in there?” Her tone was gentle, curious, slightly guarded.

  “What’s Komaki look like?”

  “He’s short and thin and balding. Why?”

  “Not tall and fat?”

  “No.”

  “Maybe he has a henchman who looks like that?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Good. I just killed his henchman seven times. The last time was particularly thorough. I popped his eyes out like grapes.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Rifkin?”

  “Yes.”

  “May I come in?”

  “Sure.”

  I felt a caress of cool air as the door to my room opened and closed, but I did not bother to look. I took a d
eep breath and began the ninth pattern. I did it for Naiji, not for myself, and the anger and fear left me. My limbs moved by themselves, calmly and slowly and strongly. My arms swept the air as if I flew instead of killed, and my legs and body seemed to step and leap through high grass. I forgot my imaginary opponents, forgot my real ones, forgot the sudden, hated knowledge of the intruder who spoke in my skull, forgot even that Naiji was there until I finished the pattern.

  “Rifkin?”

  I came out of the final posture, and though my mind left the pattern behind, I was calmer than before. Enough of myself had returned to me to expect a compliment from Naiji, for the part of me that watched saw how very well that last pattern had gone. I said, “Yes?”

  “Hold me.” Her voice broke with the second word, and I staggered backward as she threw herself into my arms.

  “Whoa!” I said. “There, now.” She was crying, so I stroked her head with one hand while I hugged her. “There, now,” I repeated, and I remembered why I had walked the patterns at midnight. “It’s all right,” I said, which I suspected was a lie, but that did not matter then.

  “Love me,” she said.

  “I don’t—”

  “No!” She forced her lips against mine with sudden violence, and her tongue tried to force its way into my mouth.

  I cupped her head with both hands and pushed her back. “You don’t have to—”

  “Love me!” she said. “Love me, Rifkin, damn you!” Her hand clutched my little man as if she would force him to stand.

  “Naiji,” I said.

  “Lady Naiji!” she corrected. “Lady Naiji!”

  What could I do? I could not calm her and I could not please her then. I caught her wrist and hoped she would not treat me as I’d imagined myself treating the Seaprince some twenty minutes earlier. “Lady Naiji,” I whispered. “Help me.”

  “Help you?” Her voice was scornful.

  “Yes. Help me.”

  “Help...” Her grip loosened, and she said, “Gods, Rifkin, I—”

  I stroked her hair again. “Quiet, Lady. We’ve both experienced much this evening, I suspect.”