Will Shetterly - Witch Blood

by Witch Blood (v1. 0)

“Rifkin always understood duty,” I said. “Why else did he serve Izla so well?”

  “Because it was easier than doing anything else, my brother. Rifkin always suspected that I, the Izla I, had dear Mother killed. He never acted. Why?”

  I stared, but he did not choose to acknowledge my anger.

  “Let us stroll through our memories together, my self. Rifkin feared Izla, for Rifkin feared witches.”

  “I didn’t,” I whispered. Perhaps I only thought it.

  “He told himself that it was important to spare our city from further dissent during a time of civil crisis, so he never spoke his suspicions.”

  “That was valid, at the time. There were no better—”

  “Perhaps,” Rifkin Spirit said. “But Rifkin’s greatest fear was that Izla’s existence was his fault, a result of a dalliance with the Sea Queen before he met his wife. And we both know that’s true, don’t we, my father, my brother, my self?”

  I nodded dumbly. I had told Naiji that my son was dead, and I had not elaborated, thinking all my sons were dead. I did not tell her that I thought I had killed the last one when I took over his body.

  “Let the Rifkin in your mind sleep, my brother. You do not need him anymore. You are not him. You’re Rifkinizla, now. You’ve always known that. Acknowledge it.”

  I looked into his eyes, my eyes. I had not known that dark eyes could be flecked with black. He smiled at me, and something in me said that I had borne Rifkin’s sense of honor for too long, carried his sense of guilt for too many deaths.

  And perhaps, I realized then, old Rifkin was a simpler man than I remembered. I should have understood everything much sooner than this. He played with me. One fact told him as soon as he saw me that I was only Rifkin, and never Izla, and that was that I carried steel weapons rather than bronze.

  I let my shoulders slump as if surrendering to him. I said, “You... You’re right.” I shook my head slowly as I studied the ground. “Whatever I am now, I’m partially Izla. Or his child.” I reached up to the back of my neck to rub it, as though it ached from many burdens. “How else,” I asked, finding the iron pin in my hair and whipping it at the Spirit’s chest, “could I trick you so easily?”

  He twisted, but the pin still took him high in his right shoulder, almost under the clavicle. His right hand had gone to his belt for a dart as soon as I had acted. My pin slowed him.

  I leaped aside, shaking the borrowed cloak from my shoulders, for it would only encumber me. As I moved, I threw a handful of dirt from my pocket at the Spirit’s eyes.

  Komaki watched desperately, trying to decide what the Spirit would do if he intervened too soon. I had seen the Duke’s responses to Rifkin Spirit’s threat, so I doubted he would stay quiet for long. During that moment when I might have attacked my other self, I kicked Komaki’s left temple to win a few more minutes of privacy.

  Rifkin had cleared the dirt from his eyes. He said, “You might have fled.”

  “I didn’t come here to flee.”

  “You still hope to save those witches?”

  I nodded.

  He laughed. “Yes, you’re definitely Rifkin, for all that you wear my body.”

  “Thank you,” I said. I wondered if he could use his right arm. When he snapped a throwing dart at me, I learned he could. It snagged my jacket as I spun. I continued the spin, flipping my last three darts at him and then finishing with a side kick at his injured arm. He parried with a forearm blow, which left his waist open. I snatched his weapons belt and pulled. We both tumbled to the ground.

  I had hoped to counter his skill by getting in close, where we would fight like animals rather than Artists. The result was that his strength gave him the advantage. He shoved back at me, throwing me several feet away. His belt, which I still held in my left hand, came with me. He was not weaponless now, but I had his sword, his knife, and his darts. I doubted he had much else hidden on him.

  He kicked at me from his crouch. I whipped the belt at his leg, snagging it. He slashed downward with a dagger that he had worn somewhere. Treacherous fellow. I released the belt, and he tried to stand. The belt served as a snare about his ankles, and he fell again. I kicked him in the head, hard. He fell against a camp table, knocking it down, and lay sprawled as if unconscious.

  My edge in battling every Spirit I had encountered had been that they did not expect Izla to fight well. I never thought Izla himself would fall for the same reason.

  I should have killed him. I wanted to kill him, but I had killed too many people in the last few days, and this one was myself. If there was still an Izla in my skull who might someday win, perhaps the Rifkin in his would wake again.

  I turned to Komaki, and Rifkin’s foot caught mine, pitching me. His knife opened my jacket and the bandages beneath it. He snarled, “Surrender, brother.”

  I tugged my axe from my belt. He tried to take me during that moment, but I had already drawn my own knife. When he lunged, I slashed his forearm.

  His face bled from one of my last throwing darts. Its trail told that it had skipped across his cheek, sliced his ear, and gone. A second one was caught in his coat. It did not appear to have touched him. The third must have missed him entirely.

  “They’re doomed,” he said, referring to the folk in the castle. “So are you, if you persevere.”

  “Never.” I thought of the bear, and brought my axe up toward his groin. He caught it with his dagger to deflect it. I stabbed for his torso, but then his foot drove into my testicles.

  Free me, Izla whispered. I will save you.

  “No!” I threw the axe at Rifkin’s head. He raised his arm to intercept it, which only resulted in the ruin of the arm. I buried my knife in his side.

  Kill him, Izla said. Kill him now.

  “I can’t even kill you, you damned thing. Why should I kill myself?” It seemed to make sense at the time.

  I limped to Komaki and slapped him until he woke. Perhaps I should have tried to be quieter, but no guards had investigated yet. I suspected that Rifkin Spirit’s orders were not to intervene unless he demanded it, no matter what anyone heard. And perhaps no one had heard anything, for we had fought with little noise, as we had been trained when we were a fishing village boy on White Mountain.

  When Komaki’s eyes fluttered open, I said, “I’m Rifkin.” I shook him again. “Rifkin. Say it.”

  “Rifkin?”

  “Right. Not him.” I pointed at Rifkin Spirit. “Me. Not him. Rifkin.”

  “Rifkin. I... I understand.”

  “Good. Understand this. I saw your fear of that thing that wears my name, my...” I shook my head to clear it. “My name. You see what I’ve done to it, here in the heart of your camp.”

  He nodded.

  “I could kill you now, Komaki, but I need you alive. I need you alive to...” I shook my head again, trying to remember. “... to order your soldiers away from here. Understand that? That’s the only thing I need you for. Will you do that?”

  He nodded too quickly.

  “Good,” I said. “Because if you do not, I will come back for you, Komaki, and I will kill you. Then I’ll find whoever rules this army after you, and I’ll tell that person to take your people home. I would rather not come back again. The person with my name will seem your best friend in the world, if you make me come back for you. Do you understand me, Komaki?”

  This time his nod was convincing.

  “Good.” I put him to sleep with a nerve pinch and turned to go.

  Rifkin watched me.

  “You’re hard to knock out,” I said.

  He smiled slowly, hiding pain. “You’re not an easy opponent, yourself. I thought I kicked your balls.”

  “You did.”

  He nodded, seeing that I also hid pain. “Yes. You’re old Rifkin.”

  “You could’ve killed me while I spoke with Komaki.”

  He smiled again.

  “Why didn’t you?”

  He shrugged and winced. “You didn’t kill me while I la
y here.”

  “So?”

  “Maybe a bit more of old Rifkin lives in me than I thought.”

  “Oh.”

  “Enough to tell you this: You spared me, I spared you. Go, now. If I recover, we’re even.”

  I nodded. “Even. What about the Duke?”

  “I’ll tell him that I can protect him, but he won’t believe me, not now. Did you kill all the Spirits I sent?”

  I turned over a hand, palm up, and let him read whatever he wished in the gesture. “They’re dead.”

  “All?”

  “Probably. We even caught Chifeo.”

  “Who?”

  I smiled. “Your masters don’t tell you everything, Rifkin Spirit.”

  I slipped under the tent wall and into the night.

  * * *

  20

  CASTLE GROMANDIEL

  WHEN I SAY that I slipped into the night, I mean that I slipped into darkness, and when I say that, I mean that my mind became a place as quiet and as dark as the cloudy night. If my body managed to match my mind, that may explain my escape from Komaki’s camp. As I left our besiegers behind me, several tents exploded into flame, telling me that someone had decided to try the trick with owls and clay firepots. The ensuing confusion certainly helped me. Besides, no one was watching for anyone sneaking out of the camp and toward the castle. Deserters would go anywhere but Castle Gromandiel.

  This doesn’t explain how I passed the ring of bonfires, where the guards, in their confusion, probably shot at every hint of shadow. But then, I also can’t account for the wound across my buttocks that, Naiji told me later, had to have been caused by a musket ball. I have dazed memories of walking and falling often and in agony. I had functioned after Rifkin Spirit’s kick because I had to. That might also be why I ignored the fact that one of my eyes was almost swollen shut, that my nose dripped blood onto my split lower lip, that my ribs only hurt me when I breathed.

  My next coherent memory is of standing in front of Gromandiel’s gate shouting, “It’s Rifkin, damn you! I’ve saved your stupid asses, now get this goat-buggering door open before I get mad!”

  Feschian probably thought this was an unlikely ruse for Komaki to try in hopes of gaining admittance. Someone brought me in, I know, because my next recollection is of lying on a rough bed in the dining room infirmary and Naiji saying “Yes, everyone likes Rifkin’s toy boat, now be a good boy and drink your broth.”

  ‘Toy boat?“ I said.

  “I don’t know where it is, Rifkin. Sorry. Drink for Naiji-waiji, okay?”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “Rifkin!” She dropped her wooden bowl on the floor and threw her arms around me. “You’re all right!” She was crying and laughing at the same time.

  “I don’t know,” I said. ‘Toy boat?“

  “You kept babbling about—”

  I shook my head, which didn’t hurt too much. “Please. I think I don’t want to know.”

  “You were very cute.”

  “Rifkin Cutie. Lucky me.”

  She nodded. “You’re very lucky. Now sit back and drink your broth.”

  “You spilled it.”

  “I wouldn’t do that,” she said, then glanced down and saw the bowl. “Oops. I’ll fetch more. You rest.” She nodded to herself, then threw herself on me again for another hug and a kiss. “Oh, my,” she said a few minutes later. “I think you are much recovered.”

  “If this was a more private place, I’d show you how much.” I watched her walk away, and noted that it was a very good thing to be able to watch her walk away, especially knowing that she would walk back. Then I fell asleep.

  I knew it was night when I woke because the room was lit with candles. Sivifal sat near me. “Was I babbling?” I asked.

  She shook her head.

  “Good. How’s your sister?”

  “Better.”

  “She’ll recover?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I hope she does.”

  After a moment the red-headed woman said “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know. But you came saying you’d saved us, and then Komaki left.”

  “When?”

  “This morning.”

  “Excellent.” I reached out for a mug of water. Sivifal came near to help me, but I shook my head. “I’m fairly strong.”

  Sivifal nodded. “Naiji said you were tougher than you look. She said that now she’s rested, she’ll try to speed your healing when you wake.”

  “Zowie.”

  Sivifal glanced at me. “Zowie?”

  “Well, it’s a better thing to say than ‘toy boat,’ wouldn’t you think?”

  Sivifal nodded. ‘To be sure. How did you convince Komaki to leave?“

  “I appealed to his nobler instincts.”

  “I didn’t know he had any nobler instincts.”

  “Neither did he.”

  She smiled a little, then said, “I’ll fetch Naiji.”

  “For the healing?”

  She smiled a little more. “Yes.”

  “Zowie.” As she stood, I said, “Wait. Help me up.”

  She got me to my feet, and I shuffled to my old room. I was wearing a robe that depicted purple, gold, scarlet, and indigo songbirds. Its quality of understated elegance suggested that it was another of Talivane’s hand-me-downs. I carried my weapons belt in barely responsive hands.

  I was about to pass Naiji’s door on my way to my own when I heard her voice behind me. “You can step right in there, stranger.”

  I turned around slowly because that was easier than looking over my shoulder. “Naiji. You were following me.”

  She nodded.

  “I suppose I dazzle you with my powers of deduction.”

  “Actually, stranger, it’s hardly your powers of deduction that I’m interested in, just now.”

  “Oh,” I said, and reached a hand for her door. When she nodded again, I opened it.

  I noted that it was a sumptuous bedroom of the sort I expected Naiji to have, and that the bed, which was large and covered with quilts, looked very soft. I shuffled toward it, set my weapons belt on one corner, shucked the robe and let it drop, then fell forward.

  “What grace,” Naiji said. “What style.”

  “Heal me, sweet vision,” I said. “Heal me all night long.” Then I fell asleep again.

  Something was doing very nice things to my thigh as I woke. I thought I should look to see what it was, but that might scare it away. I lay still while it moved higher up my leg. I looked down, and Naiji grinned wickedly at me.

  “I don’t exactly feel healed,” I said, “but I’m not complaining.”

  “You also aren’t concentrating,” Naiji said.

  “I am.”

  “On healing.”

  “On what? Oh. That.”

  “You’ve got to help me, Rifkin. Think of something warm inside you.”

  “I’d rather think of something warm inside you.”

  “Rifkin!”

  “Yes, Lady.”

  She began to peel bandages away. I saw how many I wore and said, “I don’t see why Sivifal bothered to put me in the robe.”

  “Because she thought that if anyone else saw your cute little buttocks, you wouldn’t have reached my room.”

  “That’s understandable.”

  “Rifkin!”

  “Yes, Lady.”

  I tried to focus on my wounds as things independent of my body. The warmth began to grow again. I wondered if Talivane’s lightning was anything like whatever it was that Naiji and I shared. Fire seemed to race through us both, and when I finally entered her, the world faded in a flare of light.

  It continued as a simple game of pleasure. I don’t know how or when it became something more, but at one point I said, “I love you, Naiji,” and she said, “Yes. Thank you.” And later, when we both lay in sheets damp with shared sweat, she said, “I love you, Rifkin Freeman,” and she hugged me tighter.

 
After a while, I said, “How did it go?”

  “Wonderfully.”

  “Not that. The day.”

  “Oh. What do you remember?”

  “Almost nothing since leaving Komaki. Tents burning, which I first thought I’d imagined.”

  Naiji touched my nose, perhaps for the pleasure of doing so, smiled, and said, “You made a horrible ruckus at the gates.”

  “I remember a little of that. Nothing after.”

  “Feschian brought you in. She was upset. I think she likes you.” Naiji kissed my cheek. “Sivifal and I took turns caring for you. There really isn’t much to say. Komaki left soon after sunrise.”

  “Who sent the owls with the firepots?”

  “Feschian.”

  “I should’ve guessed. How’s Talivane?”

  “Better.”

  “I have to talk to him.”

  Naiji snuggled closer. “In the morning.”

  “No.” I sat up. “Now.”

  “No,” she said again, suddenly urgent. “Please.”

  “It’s important.”

  “I’m sure. But not now, Rifkin. I beg you.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t tell you.” She began to cry into her hands.

  I stroked her hair. “Why?”

  “I can’t tell you! Please, Rifkin. Just wait. Please.”

  I shook my head and tried to explain. “It’s about Komaki. He left because I threatened him, told him what I would do if he stayed. So he went. But he won’t forget about us. He’ll be back, better prepared. All I’ve won is time, and if we waste that—”

  “Talk to Talivane in the morning. Not tonight,” Naiji whispered. “Don’t make me choose between you, Rifkin. Please?” Her eyes were wide and moist.

  “I’m sorry.” I stood and found the robe.

  “Rifkin?”

  “Yes?”

  “If I tell you... what he does, will you promise to wait?”

  “I’ll listen. But I won’t wait all night.”

  “Decide that later. Agreed?”

  I nodded. “As you wish.” Her pale hair had fallen about her face, so I brushed it back behind her ears. She kissed my wrist as my hand passed by her.

  “He’s in his room with the last Spirit. He practices magic. Magic of ... of passion. To increase his power. Like when I healed you tonight, but different.”