But Lorel nodded. “Right. We can’t do nothing. I wanna leave this dump.”
He couldn’t get away from this sandblasted city fast enough, if he couldn’t be with Jroduin. “Fine. Let’s collect Bess and the wagon and leave.”
Lorel froze and stared at him as if he’d grown a turybird’s feathered crest and a set of twenty-two bahtdor fangs.
Tsai’dona stumbled.
He gave Lorel a shove to get her going again. It was like pushing a granite boulder, but after a few more seconds of gawking at him, she did start walking.
Tsai’dona caught up with them at the armory door. “We can’t leave yet.”
Lorel whirled and growled at her.
“Not until we find you a horse.” Tsai’dona shrugged and grinned. “I can’t see you and Bess and Viper sitting on the coachbox from here to Zedista.”
They wouldn’t all fit, that was for sure. Not comfortably. When she relaxed, his turybird took up three-fourths of the driver’s bench.
Lorel blinked, but a crooked grin slid over her face. “I know where there’s horses for sale.”
He sighed. “Of course you do.” Now he’d be forced to make good on his promise to buy her a warhorse.
It would be worth the cost to hear her joyous laughter again.
∞∞∞
Welkinstele clinked like distant swordplay every time Lorel moved her shoulders. How she loved that sound! She’d never take the chainmail off again. Even if it did remind her of the kid’s washed-out linen. Sing to the Weaver he’d outgrown his obsession.
When he offered again to buy her a warhorse, she near to passed out. But no matter what he said, he couldn’t afford the kind of horse she wanted. Not in Shi, with their contempt for dark-skinned foreigners like her. She’d wait until Dra, or even Zedista.
Yeah, she’d love a good Zedisti horse. Sometimes mercenaries sold warhorses in the field behind Trader’s Inn. She could hold out that long.
So for now she picked out a fuzzy, aged, jug-headed mule of a horse with long legs and longer teeth.
Both Tsai and the kid looked at her like she’d fallen off the Shuttle.
Dust and dry horse crap swirled around them. Horses stomped and whinnied and squealed. The Nasty dealer leaned against the corral and picked at his teeth, patient as death.
The kid coughed and peered up at the big, blood-red bay gelding she’d chosen. “Are you sure about this? I don’t think it’s a warhorse.”
“Of course it ain’t a warhorse, Loom lint.” But since he never mentioned taking the price out of her wages, she couldn’t tell him why she didn’t pick a warhorse. Still, she’d pay him back eventually.
“It’s got to be the ugliest horse I’ve ever seen.”
Another reason she’d picked it. It oughta be cheap. But the worst of its looks was its unbrushed, mud-caked winter coat. Once she’d worked on it, it’ll look better than the roans.
But the kid had his haggling face on, and he wasn’t talking to her. He was real careful to avoid looking at the horse trader. “It looks meaner than a hungry bahtdor.”
The horseman yawned.
They dickered for a while, but eventually the kid shrugged and the dealer held out his hand. She was sure the man just wanted his money, but the kid shook the skinny white paw like he’d enjoyed their banter.
Finally the kid pulled out his purse and paid for the gelding.
What was he doing, carrying around that much money without warning her?
Her eyes near to fell out of her face. He paid sixteen gold coins for a lump of horsemeat? They never paid that much in silver for Nightshade, and he was a feisty young stallion.
Good thing she never picked a real warhorse. She’d’ve owed the kid forever!
This beast wasn’t a warhorse, but her war saddle oughta fit it pretty good. But not until she got the frayed monster cleaned up.
She clawed off the worst of the dried mud, got the bridle into the pricy plug’s mouth with the dealer’s help, and led the miswoven horse away from the corral.
It frayed her thread – and the gelding’s, too – but she made her feet walk slow to let the kid keep up.
Tsai smiled like she was trying not to laugh. “What’ll you name him?”
“Bitter blood. It’s not even a real ‘him’. It’s missing bits.”
The kid aimed a dirty look her way.
What was his problem? He wasn’t stuck with a jug-headed horse. Hey, that would do. “His name is Jughead.”
The kid rolled his eyes. “That is the stupidest idea you’ve had in lunars. Call him Daisy.”
“Weaver’s chamberpot! I ain’t calling no boy horse Daisy. Even if he is only half a boy.” She stiff-armed the bay to keep it from biting her. “I’ll call him Bay Boy.” Nobody could complain about that.
Tsai snorted and punched her ribcage. And shook her fingers like they hurt.
“Hey, that hurt.” She didn’t really feel it through the chainmail, but there was no cause to slug her. “It’s a good name.”
“Bay Boy is too much like Baby Bear or Baybid’ba’ir.”
Turtle turds. Too true.
Tsai looked the gelding over again.
It tried to bite her.
Lorel grabbed the bridle and yanked its head up.
Tsai danced out of tooth-range. “Call him Hemlock. He’s poisonous enough.”
The kid laughed. “Yeah, it fits.”
“Hemlock?”
The bay twitched his ears and pointed one brown eye at her.
“He sorta likes it.” She patted the gelding’s neck. “Hemlock. It’ll do.”
The kid nodded like he’d planned for the name all along. Knowing the meddling noodle brain, he had.
Never mind. She didn’t mean to keep this horse all that long. It was a pretty short trip to Zedista. Only fifteen or twenty days, she’d bet. “Let’s go grab Sumach and ditch this blood-woven town.”
Chapter 17.
For all of his wishing and Lorel’s rushing, they didn’t leave Shi in the hour before true darkness, when curfew locked the southern gates. They were trapped at the inn beside Jroduin’s wizard school for another night.
Lorel cussed and stomped off to the stable.
Tsai’dona paced the common room.
Viper tried to crawl out of his skin.
Only Bess seemed pleased (or relieved) at the delay. She chatted with the innkeeper about the road south.
He tried to listen, but gave up and settled into his room with a book. His quiet, spacious (comparatively) room, not the wagon. He didn’t want to hear one more word of Kyri’s halfhearted attempts at condolences.
Dawn found them loaded up and shivering in the chilly, smoky air. On the wrong side of the southern gate, of course, and waiting for the taxman to arrive.
Just his luck to get stuck with a late riser. He couldn’t get out of this sandblasted town soon enough. He rubbed his eyes and scrutinized his crew.
Lorel’s newest monster looked halfway decent, considering she’d brushed it for several hours. Apparently the stable master had taken her – and the obnoxious, blood-red horse – under his wing. She was much more cheerful this morning.
Tsai’dona must have spent as much time with Sumach. The little mare’s gray, red-spotted coat gleamed as brightly as copper-inlaid silver.
The team’s blue-roan fur gleamed almost as bright. The girls must have worked hard at ridding them of their winter coats, too. But right now both horses stood spraddle-legged, heads lowered, as if they were mostly asleep.
Bess sat beside him on the driver’s seat, staring up at the top of the city wall. She looked resigned to some horrible fate.
He wasn’t the least resigned. His skin still crawled. Acid boiled inside his stomach. A bahtdor perched on the top of his head, crushing it. Crushing him. He hurt more now than he had during the dragon’s torture sessions.
He’d never forget Jroduin. Never. He’d come back to her.
An old man with weary eyes and a large red notebook strolled up
to the wagon. “What do you have to declare?”
Declare? Blast. The fellow must be the taxman. He never guessed it would be as much trouble to get out of Shi as it was to get in.
“I’m a minor magician.” He gestured at the blue-starfish coated wagon. “Unfortunately, my skill isn’t acceptable for your festival celebrations. That’s why we’re leaving early.”
Bess whispered, “You’re talking too much.”
He was not. Officials always wanted more detail, not less.
The tax collector nodded solemnly. “I understand. How many shows did you put on?”
“Only one.” One disastrous performance he’d initially thought had gone well. “It was one too many.”
The taxman nodded again. “Seventeen nobles.”
Viper gasped, and tried to turn the sound into a cough. The escape tax was more than Lorel’s horse cost. No wonder Jroduin gave him a purse of twenty nobles. She knew how to plan ahead.
Tired eyes focused on him. “What weapons do you declare?”
Weapons? Had someone noticed the Crayl steel inside the wagon? It could only be the snoopy stable master. No one else went near.
He hadn’t planned for an illusion to hide the swords lining the walls. Or the magical weapons. Or Kyri, for that matter, though he suspected the serpent could hide itself.
And Kyri said he mustn’t use any magic here. He was so sunk into an abuelo snake’s den.
Bess pinched his forearm. “Stop gawking and say something.”
Say what? Don’t inspect my wagon? He couldn’t think. His head was full of dandelion fluff and thistles. He couldn’t be hungover. He’d had trouble getting water down his throat last night and this morning.
Bess leaned around him. “Only whatever his bodyguards are carrying.”
The old man hobbled around and inspected Lorel and Tsai’dona. “Three swords, two riding horses, two draft horses, and a wagon.” He scribbled in his notebook. “Thirty-seven nobles.”
Thirty seven? Highway robbery! Real merchants must leave their goods – and their guards – outside of the gates.
The tax collector frowned. “I say, is that chainmail under your clothing?”
Tsai’dona shrugged. Chain clinked in the silence of the dawn.
Lorel lifted her chin and pulled her jacket down. “Yup, a gift from the lady.”
“An additional seventeen commons, twice over.” The taxman froze. “A gift from– You’re the people who saved Lady Jroduikil?”
Lorel smirked.
Tsai’dona nodded, but kept her warrior face on.
Well, they hadn’t actually saved her, since the slavers hadn’t seemed interested in her. But they had stood by her, protected her.
Oh, Jroduin! How could he live without her?
He started to shake. Vomit crept up his throat.
Bess squeezed his hand.
He could do this. He would learn all the things she asked. He’d come back to her in a year or so, when he was older. When she could take him seriously.
The taxman gazed at Lorel, at Tsai’dona, and turned to frown at the wagon. Finally he nodded. “You do match the reports.” He crossed several lines out of his book, scribbled a few new ones, and looked up to the driver’s platform. “The lowest I can go is seven nobles, three patrons. I’m confined by the law, I’m afraid.”
It was a far lower tax than he’d hoped for. Viper nodded numbly, pulled his purse from his innermost vest pocket, and counted out eight gold coins.
The taxman handed back the change. “Thank you for saving her. Lord Eilandran’s daughter is Shi’s most valued treasure.”
His dearest treasure, too. The old lord was wrong to order him away from her. He needed to be on his way so he could come home again. He lifted the reins an inch.
The team stomped restlessly, even though they’d stood quietly for the last hour. They must know how much this journey meant to him.
Bess pried the reins out of his hands.
The team settled down.
Hey, he wasn’t nervous. Or upset. Only a little out of sorts. And nauseated. With his head trapped in a vice. Otherwise he was fine.
The taxman gestured to the gate guards, who opened the portcullis high.
Bess shook the reins and urged the team to move.
Once they were clear of the city defenses, Viper stood up on the driver’s bench and looked back. “Do you suppose Jroduin might be a wielder of one of the magical weapons?”
“No!”
“No way!”
“Not a chance, pet.” Bess patted his calf. “Not unless she plays the flute. Does she?”
His shoulders slumped. “Not that she mentioned.”
Lorel guided her evil horse closer. “Or she grows six feet taller and can swing the overgrown broadsword you made.”
He snarled at the turybird.
Tsai’dona rode up on the other side of the wagon. “Both the other times, the weapon moved itself off the wall and to the doorway. Has either of them moved?”
“No. But I truly wish she could travel with us.”
“Ain’t gonna happen, kid.” Lorel shrugged at him. Her chainmail jangled softly. “Besides, she’d hate every second away from her city.”
The turybird was right about that. He sighed and sank back to the bench. “At least it’s a good road.”
“One of the best we been on.” Lorel grinned at him unsympathetically. “If you gonna be grumpy, go sleep it off inside.”
And let Kyri natter at him again? Or let the blasted cub slobber all over him? No thank you.
“I won’t give you the satisfaction.” Viper crossed his legs on the bench and leaned back against the wagon.
Lorel laughed and shook Hemlock’s reins. They galloped off in a cloud of dust.
Tsai’dona shook her head and huffed. “Sumach can’t keep up with that long-legged monster.”
The road really was a good one, smooth and well maintained. He couldn’t see a pothole anywhere. The wagon rattled on quietly, soothingly. They’d reach Na in a few days, at this rate. There he could start his work for Jroduin. Beautiful, brilliant Jroduin.
Here though, there wasn’t much to look at. Miles of fallow fields surrounded the city. What would the farmers plant? Or had they already seeded the ground? He didn’t know what to look for, and it wasn’t worth the hassle of asking. He’d rather close his eyes for a minute.
A couple of hours later, from the angle of the sun, Lorel swung up to the driver’s seat and jostled him. “You gonna snooze all day, kid?”
“I was not sleeping.” He’d merely rested a bit. And it’d helped. His headache had eased up some.
Deep shadow covered the road. They were traveling through a dense but newly leafed-out forest. The very air smelled green and fresh, completely unlike the smoky city.
He’d relaxed longer than he’d planned.
Kyri nudged the door up a scant inch. “This one recommends the assembly vacate expeditiously. Ineffable dynamisms compromise this vicinity.”
Undefinable forces? Surely it meant slavers, though he didn’t see any evidence of them.
Lorel dropped her face into her hands. “Little words, toad.”
Kyri hissed and withdrew. The door wiggled as if the serpent was trying – unsuccessfully – to close it. From the sounds of clawing on wood, the blasted cub was trying to escape again.
Viper leaned back hard on the door. All they needed was for the not-so-little monster to get loose in a patch of poison oak.
Bess braced her feet and pushed even harder.
The door swung up another three inches.
“Later, Baby.” Lorel pushed the door shut with one hand and drew her short sword with the other. “Let’s get moving, kid. If trouble finds us. I’m ready for a fight.” She sliced air with her blade. “Ho, Dondarik! There goes your head.”
For all her clowning, of course the turybird understood Kyri’s warning.
But rather than scold her, he imagined her sword slashing a certain lord�
��s neck. If the old man hadn’t hassled her, Jroduin would never make him leave her city.
Tsai’dona shook her head and rode back to the rear of the wagon.
Lorel jumped to the ground and trotted to her horse.
“My turn to drive.” He took the reins from Bess and glanced at the trembling leaves.
A storm was coming. Eventually, anyway. After they camped he’d try out the weather prediction spell in the new grimoire.
Around midafternoon the road drew near the shoreline and its low sea cliff. Hungry waves lapped at the cliff top, spilling salt water onto dry land.
Blast. That little cliff couldn’t protect them from an Alignment’s tidal surges. Praise the Thunderer the Alignment wasn’t due until after they’d reached Na.
Lorel chortled louder than a crow stuffing itself on carrion. “Ain’t it wild, kid? I love the ocean. I hope we have a good storm.”
Bess coughed and muttered, “Was she born insane?”
“She’s always loved the ocean.” He looked up at the single cloud in the bright sky and grinned. “But she also enjoys teasing me.”
Tsai’dona rode back from scouting ahead. “This stretch of road is the last flat bit for several miles. And the road gets a lot closer to the cliff from here to those hills up there.” She pointed to a coastal range.
Which probably was ten miles away. Too far for today.
Lorel laughed. Her evil horse startled and tried to run. She reined it in circles until it calmed down. “Let’s go on, kid. It’s a couple hours until dark. We can get lots farther.”
“Lots closer to the ocean,” Bess grumbled.
Lorel’s eyebrows rose. “Of course. But we ain’t nearly close yet.”
“I say we camp here.” Tsai’dona swung off her mare and stretched.
Lorel scowled at her. “It ain’t time to quit yet.”
“I think we should stop, too.” His turybird turned her glare on him. After all these years, she thought that would bother him? “If we camp too close to the ocean, we won’t hear if slavers sneak up on us.”
“Loom lint.” Her shoulders sank. “You might be right.” She leapt off her horse, startling the gelding into snapping at her. She pushed its nose away and led it to the back of the wagon.
Alchemy's Child (The Mindbender's Rise Book 5) Page 23
