Agnith's Promise: The Vildecaz Talents, Book 3

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  “You know this place well?” Ninianee asked, wary of such a pat opportunity.

  “As well as my hand,” answered Onpoleneraz.

  “I’ve been there, as well,” said Ferzal, not quite as heartily as Onpoleneraz.

  “It’s a short way up a secondary canyon on the south side,” said Onpoleneraz. “You can’t stumble upon it by accident.”

  That description alarmed Ninianee, and she saw a similar wariness in Doms’ light-blue eyes. “They’re hidden?” she asked.

  “Unless you know where they are, you can’t find them,” said Ferzal. “They’re one of the few places where you don’t have to worry about river-pirates.”

  “Then I suppose it’s a good place,” said Doms, his expression guarded. Hidden places worried him, and none more than this remote village.

  “I wouldn’t tell you about it if I thought it would bring trouble,” Onpoleneraz grumbled. “They’re your animals, and it’s your property. I wouldn’t take a chance with them, but if you decide to move on without giving them a rest, it’s your choice to make. You’re paying.”

  Ninianee could see Doms bristle, and she intervened. “You wouldn’t think much of us if we didn’t question you on such a point, would you? You’d think we were inexperienced travelers, and gullible.”

  Onpoleneraz harrumphed. “Nothing like that: it sounds as if you don’t think I know my business.”

  “That’s hardly the point,” said Doms. “I want to be sure of our situation, and what we may have to deal with.”

  “You’ll have to deal with a small village of fisherfolk. They live in fourteen houses and they have thirty-eight boats. There are nine large families in all, and about one hundred-twenty people all told. They’ve been there for many generations, and are content to have it so.” Onpoleneraz reported this with an air of undisguised umbrage that bordered on resentment. “There isn’t much else on this stretch of the river.”

  “What is this place called?” Ninianee asked.

  “Xerizan,” said Ferzal. “It’s my home.”

  There was a long moment of silence, and then Ninianee said, “It would be an honor to visit your home.” She rounded on Doms. “Wouldn’t it?”

  “Yes,” he responded neutrally.

  “Then it’s settled,” said Onpoleneraz.

  * * *

  Shortly before mid-afternoon the river began to look like the scales of a gigantic snake twisting along the bottom of the canyon, almost iridescent. There was growing power in its every move, and a reminder that it would take little for this serpent to crush them. Onpoleneraz frowned and spoke to Ferzal in the baffling dialect of the river-men. “That’s smaik, that is.”

  Ferzal nodded. “And turning nodi.”

  “I wish I understood what they’re saying,” Ninianee said to Doms as quietly as the river’s clamor would allow. They were finishing removing the nose-bags from the ponies and mules. “Jenshaz is off his feed.”

  “But they don’t want you to understand. That’s why they speak it,” Doms explained. “Is Jenshaz ill?”

  “I don’t think so – it’s the river. This kind of travel is hard on them – having to stand all day and half the night on a surface that is never steady underfoot,” said Ninianee, giving the two ponies and two mules a thorough perusal.

  “They’re none of them eating right. You’re right. It’s the long hours on the barge,” said Doms.

  “Ganprit pari,” Onpoleneraz called out emphatically, making no apology for using the jargon of the river-men.

  “Aporit,” Ferzal agreed.

  Onpoleneraz looked over at Doms. “I’m going to steer toward the center of the river – the current is rising and we could be dashed on the rocks if I don’t put some distance between us and the banks. There is half a league of this ahead. It will mean a harder passage and possible trouble, but it’s safer than taking a chance of breaking up on the rock. We’ll pick up speed at mid-stream, but that could be advantageous, from your point of view. We’ll cover more distance.”

  “It’s also risky,” said Ferzal. “You’ll have to help us pay attention.”

  Jenshaz was beginning to paw in his open stall, tossing his head in distress. Ninianee went to soothe him and to try to find out what worried him so. Rising water and bright bouquets of spray, noise, barge shifting beneath hooves, the water all around them, the pony thrashing against it as it rose, wanting to be free. The other animals caught his nervousness and fussed in their stalls, pulling on their lead-ropes and making distressed whickers.

  “Keep those creatures quiet,” Onpoleneraz ordered. “Go toward the bow and keep watch for things in the water.”

  “What things?” Ninianee asked, moving gingerly toward the front of the barge.

  “Logs, rocks, dead animals, parts of boats, anything that isn’t water,” was his answer. He picked up a sweep-oar and thrust it at Doms. “Get anything out of our way.”

  Doms took the sweep-oar without protest, going to the bow and standing next to Ninianee. “Do you think this is going to be trouble?” he inquired softly.

  “I think it already is trouble,” she replied, staring at the roiling river. “And there’s not much we can do to change it.”

  “Then we’d best be observant,” said Doms, and signaled his readiness to Onpoleneraz as he swung the sweep-oar forward.

  The barge rushed along, Onpoleneraz leaning heavily on the steering-oar to hold it on course. The noise of the water got louder, making a continual boom like a high wind, and the canyon echoed its roar. Ninianee scanned the surface until her eyes ached, and Doms used the sweep-oar to get all manner of floating detritus away from the barge, doing his best to minimize the impact on the sides of the barge, but not always succeeding – the sound of object bouncing along the hull added to the din of the river. After about an hour, the barge began to wallow, its port side listing, bringing water rushing across the deck.

  “Something’s got snagged under us,” Onpoleneraz said, leaning heavily against the steering-oar.

  “What can you do?” Doms asked, shoving yet another twisted tree-limb out of the way.

  “Nothing until we make safe harbor,” he admitted unhappily.

  “And when will that be?” Ninianee tried to sound confident, but her effort failed.

  “We’ll take the turning to Xerizan in about an hour. We should be able to manage until then,” Onpoleneraz said with more bluster than conviction. “Once we’re tied up, I’ll summon a Dej-sturgeon to pull away whatever we’ve got on us. Useful fish, Dej-sturgeons.”

  “Isn’t there a spell that could help us?” Ninianee asked, watching the banks, worry in her eyes.

  “Spells can go eishek when the river is this wild,” said Ferzal. “Best not to try one.”

  “We’ll be safe enough,” said Onpoleneraz.

  The barge lurched as if in disagreement with its owner, its broad deck now almost completely awash, and all the holding-nets showing signs of weakening. The mules and ponies whinnied, brayed, and pulled at their restraints, the whites of their eyes showing. Ferzal grabbed the railing and steadied herself while Onpoleneraz wrestled with the steering-oar to keep the barge from overturning. The water undulated by them, shining opaquely. In less than a thousand heartbeats, the barge lurched again, this time as if trying to climb a hill, then slapped down on the water with such force that one of Doms’ and Ninianee’s chests broke free of its netting and fell off into the roaring current.

  “That’s our cooking supplies,” Ninianee exclaimed as she watched the chest slide away from them, rocking in the current before being pulled down and away from the barge.

  “We can replace them,” said Doms.

  “Not out here,” said Ninianee.

  Ferzal left her position and went to check the rest of the netting. She avoided the terrified animals, taking no chance of being injured by a hoof or a bite. Two more lunges almost tipped her into the River Dej. She clung to one of the tie-posts, shouting, “It’s a kuatiree! I know it is!” The
se water-spirits were known to be most dangerous in winter, and although rare on this river, could still prove to be a serious hazard.

  “A kuatiree?” Onpoleneraz bellowed in disbelief.

  “What else causes such trouble?” Ferzal shouted her answer. “It wants to take the barge down!”

  “That’s tagono,” Onpoleneraz yelled as another judder went through the barge. “Hold on!”

  Doms and Ninianee remained in the bow of the barge, holding onto the front-stay. “Is it a kuatiree?” Doms asked, riding the pitching barge with apparent ease. “Or is it something else.”

  Ninianee kept one arm firmly around the front-stay. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, you can communicate with animals – can’t you summon up a kuatiree?” His question was only half in jest.

  “No, since it isn’t an animal. Erianthee could do it, if she were here,” said Ninianee, doing her utmost not to be frightened.

  “Too bad,” said Doms with a philosophical grimace. “The barge can’t take much more of this.”

  “No, it can’t,” Ninianee agreed as the barge swooped down a curving mound of water, only to flatten abruptly on what seemed to be a hidden shelf of rock. The shock of this impact throbbed along the keel, the wood moaning from the strain. “Another one like that and it’ll come apart.”

  There was the sharp report of something cracking, and at the same time a surge in the water sent the barge swinging around whatever was holding them. As they moved athwart the current, the barge rocked more dangerously, and as a scend welled against the craft, the steering-oar flung up and out, knocking Onpoleneraz into the water. Shouting, he tried to grab the leather fenders hanging along the hull, but missed them, and was pulled away in the river, his hand still stretched out. The three people remaining on the barge stared in shock as Onpoleneraz vanished under the churning water.

  “May Reonoj, the Ubiquitous, spare us that fate,” said Ninianee, appalled by what she had seen. It had been three years since she had Changed into a seal and been caught at the end of the first night almost a league from shore. That long swim had almost killed her and left her with a horror of drowning. Watching Onpoleneraz vanish made her feel sick.

  “And may Monianaj seek for other companions than ours,” said Doms, and managed to work one arm around Ninianee. “We have to get off this before it breaks up. Swim for the towpath on the northern bank.”

  “In this water?” Ninianee was stunned at his suggestion.

  “If we wait until the barge comes apart, we’ll have no chance, especially if there’s a kuatiree doing it.” He waited while the barge writhed around the edge of an ominous eddy. “There really isn’t any other choice, Ninianee. At least we’ll have a chance.”

  Dread of the noise the barge made as it bucked in the river, rising panic as the deck shivered, filled the ponies’ and mules’ minds. Ninianee could summon up no images to calm them.

  “There isn’t another choice, is there?” She saw him nod. “Then I have to free the animals. I can’t leave them here,” Ninianee went on, glad to hold onto Doms as the barge gave a tremendous shudder.

  “All right, but do it quickly,” said Doms. “One more big shock and the keel will come off and that will take the barge under. Without a steering-oar, we’re at the mercy of the current.” He touched her face. “I won’t let you drown, Ninianee.”

  “You can’t promise that, not with the river near flood,” she said, and before her nerve could fail her, she broke away from him and lumbered down the moaning deck to the four open stalls. She unfastened the halters of the mules and ponies, then slid open the doors, slapping and whistling to get the animals to emerge. She pictured in her mind the northern shore, and she added the image of swimming, and was rewarded with Danliree scrambling across the canting deck to the river and plunging in. At once the others followed, and Ninianee went to the side of the barge only to find Ferzal there, her arms folded, her feet planted firmly on the keening deck.

  “Don’t jump. It’s madness. You can’t swim in such a river, not with a kuatiree causing trouble.” The pilot gave Ninianee a determined stare.

  “I have to, or let the barge plunge me into its wreckage. As risky as swimming would be, waiting for this vessel to break apart is more dangerous still.” She felt more than saw Doms come up behind Ferzal. An instant later, he and the pilot were in the water, and Ninianee leaped after them. Water closed over her head, tugging at her and pulling her downward. She struggled to get to the surface, gasping as she felt the chill air on her face. For two deep breaths she was disoriented as the river swept her along. Then she caught sight of one of the mules struggling out of the water onto the towpath, and she swam toward that spot, all the while being carried inexorably downstream. She looked about for her animals, and for Doms, but could see none of them as the river carried her beneath the shadow of a rocky promontory high above her. Forcing herself to keep swimming, although her arms felt impossibly slow and weak, and her kicks made no headway, Ninianee felt something brush her leg. She almost shrieked. A sharp kick and she was beyond whatever it was, and once more trying to reach the shore, although now her water-logged clothes were weighing her down, making each movement more difficult. Mustering all her determination, she put on a last burst of energy and made for the northern shore. She was already very tired, and wondered if the kuatiree had magical skills to snare her in the river. With a last, despondent summoning of will, she swam for the bank, trying not to look at how far she had to go. For what seemed to be an hour, she continued her mindless efforts, wanting to put off her drowning until the last possible moment.

  There was gravely sand under her hand, and then, her foot touched the bottom of a protected pool out of the main current. Dazed, Ninianee got to her feet and staggered ashore, only to collapse against a huge driftwood log. She lay over its twisted bulk, panting and trying to restore a little strength to her exhausted limbs. The sun was fairly warm but would soon drop behind the high walls of the canyon, and then her wet clothes would turn cold, making her situation much worse. She rose long enough to peel off her pelgar and zenft, laying them out on the driftwood to dry. Shivering as the wind picked up, Ninianee huddled down against the flank of the log, and thought of how much she had lost with the barge – all her things were gone, and her animals. The one mule she had seen get out of the river might not want to be caught again, not that she was in any condition to chase down a mule, or even a redcoon, she thought. She called out to the mules and ponies with her mind, looking around her to establish an image of her location in their minds, but she could not keep her focus as fatigue overcame her.

  What she needed right now, she knew, was a fire, a meal, and some sleep. If she had those, she could then turn her attention to what she would have to do next: it would be a long, hungry, lonely journey back to Vildecaz with animals, supplies, money, and Doms all gone. And with that forlorn thought of Doms Guyon, sleep, soothing and muffling, caught up with her, and for the rest of the night all the losses she had endured that day were forgotten.

  * * *

  Housekeeper-General Dochanee Rocazin offered Poyneilum Zhanf a respect before she entered the library. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, but I must talk to you about Last and First Day celebrations. We have made no plans for the feasts.” She stepped into the room as Zhanf returned her respect.

  “Would celebrations be appropriate, under the present circumstances?” Zhanf asked. He glanced over at Neilach Drux. “You would know better than I what would be best – with the Duz and Duzeons absent, what kind of festivities would Nimuar expect the Duzky to keep?”

  “Duz Nimuar always deferred to the General and his daughters on such matters,” said Nimuar’s valet. He regarded General Rocazin with curiosity. “Do you have something in mind?”

  “Actually,” said General Rocazin, “I have three possibilities that I would like to propose to you. I think you may find that each has its merits, and each has certain disadvantages, but I don’t want to make a decision withou
t consulting you, since you stand as deputy to the Duz and Duzeons.” She put her hands into the square sleeves of her gaunel and continued formally. “If you would like to discuss the matter now, I am at your disposal. If you would prefer another time, you have only to suggest it to me. I can accommodate my schedule to yours.”

  “Now is satisfactory,” said Zhanf with an inclusive glance at Drux. “Do sit down, General, and tell me what’s on your mind.”

  General Rocazin selected the high-backed chair upholstered in a tapestry showing the meeting of Burinee and Lorjoran, the Provider. Her composure was reassuring to Zhanf and Drux as she waited for them to join her near the fireplace. “I have given this much thought, and discussed it with Cook-Major Ver Mindicaz, attempting to decide how we’re to proceed. We have agreed to certain limits that will not burden the kitchen overmuch, or make an unseemly display at a time when too much jollity would be inappropriate.”

  “That’s wise of you,” said Zhanf. “At this time, too much display would be seen as offensive to many.”

  General Rocazin made a sign of agreement. “We have an increased awkwardness in that First Day is Duzeon Ninianee’s birthday. If she hasn’t returned, our observance of the occasion must follow Vildecazin traditions for such instances, which would include a half-meal, the other half to be served on her return.” She let the men consider this, then continued. “I believe that Last Night bonfires should be lit, no matter what else we decide to do, and an entertainment of some sort be arranged. Nothing extravagant, but enough to mark the occasion.”

  “It is customary in fortunate times and desolate ones,” Drux said, supporting the General.

  “I’ll dispatch Burinar to Valdihovee to engage performers for the evening, if this is satisfactory to you? It isn’t too early to make such arrangements, as many other hosts will be vying for such amusements for Last and First Day festivities.” General Rocazin paused. “Unless you have other suggestions?”