6
It was nearing noon, and the common room of the inn was slowly filling as farmers and other workers laid aside the tools of their trades and came in for a meal, a cool drink, or simply companionship. Certainly not for a friendly gossip; the room was almost silent as the Black Triad entered, despite the growing crowd.
Ton-Kel glanced around the room, sizing up the mood of the people. Aside from Lily's engaging smile — which was focused entirely on Baraccus in any case — and a polite nod from the fine gentleman in red and black, who had resumed his earlier place in the upholstered chair by the fireplace, there were no friendly faces here.
She followed Baraccus to an unoccupied table and sat. Lily glided to the table, somehow ending up wedged between Baraccus and Paulo.
"What is your pleasure, sir?" she asked in dulcet tones, her smile giving the words layers of meaning. Paulo reddened, but Baraccus just laughed.
"Something cool to drink, if you please," he said. "The day grows warm."
"We have much to choose from," she said, tilting her head coyly. "Beer and ale the like of which you've never tasted, mead, cider, a variety of wines…."
He smiled up at her. "I leave it to your judgment, Mistress Lily. Surprise us."
She flashed a white-toothed smile at him and Paulo before turning away, managing to brush her hips against both of them as she did so. Both watched her swaying progress toward the bar with an attentiveness that set Ton-Kel's teeth on edge. Before she could say anything, however, they turned back to the table.
"So," said Baraccus, "how have you fared?"
Paulo grimaced. "Not well. No one will talk to me."
Ton-Kel nodded. "We're not getting anywhere." She looked down, unable to meet their eyes. "Truthfully, in the light of what we learned at the meeting this morning, I think we've been given more than we can handle. Maybe it's time we admit it."
"If we accept the premise that the whole thing is hopeless, we'll never get anywhere," Baraccus said. "I don't believe we're just being thrown away. Remember, we're not on our own out here — the Factions are apparently working together on this, or the other Triads wouldn't be here. Our Patrons must have thought there is something we can do, some positive action we can take. So let's start from that point."
Paulo snorted. "Like, for instance, what in Hell's name are we going to do about it?"
They fell silent as Lily returned with their drinks, a nut-brown ale that even Ton-Kel had to admit was excellent. The men acknowledged her with smiles, but quickly returned to the matter at hand, and Lily left them for more fertile pastures.
Ton-Kel leaned forward, keeping her voice low. "I say we approach Galen and suggest evacuating the town. Just get everyone out. If all the Triads work together, we can escort the entire populace to the nearest large town. They'll be refugees, but at least they'll all be alive. Whatever this…being wants, we've little chance to stop him. But we may be able to prevent him from taking more lives in the process."
Paulo spread his palms wide. "But what if whatever he wants is right here? In the town?" He swept the room with one arm. "One of these people right here?"
"A Great One could take anyone — or everyone — he wanted," she argued. "If that was it, he'd have done so by now."
Paulo grimaced, gesturing for her to keep her voice down. "Maybe not. Not if he's running some sort of experiment and Westmere is the subject."
Baraccus looked at Ton-Kel. "Do you think you could do some scrying? Anything that would get us information on the powers we may be dealing with?"
She shook her head. How to explain the Mystic disciplines to one who had never walked that road? "Normally, yes. But not here. I can't describe it but…I just know it's not safe to leave my body or open my mind. There's something waiting to grab anyone who tries. I can feel it." She looked from Baraccus to Paulo and back, willing their understanding. "It's so thick in the air I'm surprised you can't feel it. Something is watching. Something or someone."
Baraccus and Paulo looked at each other and nodded. "We've all had a bad feeling about this place from the start," Paulo said. "I didn't realize that's what it meant, though."
"When you get that strong a warning, it's best to pay attention to it," she replied. There was no use going into greater detail. She had got her point across.
"We need more information," Baraccus sighed. "And unless people start talking, I don't know where else we're going to get it."
"The Sobaka woman I talked to said to talk to the boggies," Ton-Kel murmured, half to herself. "I wonder if it's possible?"
Baraccus sat up. "Sobaka?"
"The washer woman for this place. Said she walked into pocket magic in the woods about two seasons ago." Ton-Kel gave a hasty sketch of her conversation. "She was pretty insistent, really," she finished.
Paulo snorted. "I'm surprised you're even wasting time repeating it all. Her mind was obviously going. And you don't know what her motives were. She'd have said anything to get us to let her go." His voice rose with annoyance. "We can't talk to the boggies any more than we can talk to the trolkien."
"Boggies?" Nayir slid into the remaining empty seat, smiling brightly around the table. "What about them? I'd heard there were some around here — where I come from, we call them something else, but if it's the same creature, they're perfectly harmless. Well, almost perfectly. You never know with the Fair Folk, naturally." He glanced at the tankards in front of the Triad. "Oh, I love their dark ale. But you should try some of their wines. Do you know they stock almost entirely from Anagni?"
Baraccus's smile was as warm and friendly as a summer day, but his eyes were a shark's. "We must be content with what our host sees fit to serve us, Master — I don't believe we caught your name?"
Nayir was apparently oblivious to the undertone in Baraccus's voice, but Ton-Kel heard it and decided to spare the lad. He meant well, after all. "Allow me; we met earlier." She gestured around the table. "Baraccus, Paulo, this is Nayir."
Paulo eyed him curiously. "A stranger to these parts?"
The young man nodded. "My caravan was attacked a few days ago; only a few of us survived." He smiled. "I can't claim any heroics, though. I lived by pulling a bloody cloak over myself and playing dead. I've only been here for a little while, but life is certainly interesting in this part of the world."
"What brings you here?" Baraccus asked.
"I was supposed to meet someone here, but, well…." The youth shrugged, then smiled around the table with an ingenuous expression. "I can't believe I'm sharing a table with a real Triad, buying them drinks, seeing them at work — I can't tell you what an honor this is." He looked at Ton-Kel. "May I go with you when you talk to the boggies? I'll stay out of the way — I just want to watch."
"I'm afraid not," she said, forestalling Baraccus's probable response. "It would be too dangerous for you, and besides, we're not going. The boggies attacked the Green Triad; they're not likely to do less to us."
"Really?" Nayir looked surprised. "I've never heard of boggies attacking anyone, unless they were lighting fires or something. And the Green Triad? That's almost like attacking family."
"Exactly," she said, relieved that he understood.
He shook his white-gold head in disbelief. "Where I come from, all you have to do is make an offering when you enter their territory. You know, a simple gift: food, a pretty rock, trinkets. I always sang for them. That works like a charm; they can't resist music. Especially songs about trees and the like." He shrugged. "I'll bet the Green Triad was so set on getting through, they forgot the proper rituals. Maybe they burned something. Or maybe they're all tone deaf."
She blinked, her mind clicking. "Music? They like singing?" She could feel Paulo and Baraccus's questioning stares, but her attention was fixed on Nayir. "Are you certain?"
He frowned, thinking. "It seems to me that even when they were angry about something, a song would get them to calm down lon
g enough to listen and talk to you. Once you can talk to them, you can do pretty well if you're polite. Like I said, they're mostly harmless. At least where I come from."
She smiled at him, bringing all her charm into play. "You must be from Anagni. Are you a minstrel?"
His eyes widened. "How'd you guess? Well, actually, I'm in the family business now. But I always wanted to be a minstrel. Once I stopped wanting to be a Ranger, anyway," he added with a laugh.
She laughed in return. "Me, too. I even made my living that way for a while."
"Really? You know, that doesn't surprise me — you have that look about you, that aura. And the hands." He reached out suddenly and snagged one of her hands in his, touching the backs of her fingers lightly while he smiled at her, eyes dancing with mischief. "My lute survived the caravan with me; let me play for you — I'd love to hear you sing."
"Tell you what," she said, leaving her hand in his and extending her ki just the tiniest bit, layering her words with a suggestion. "If you'll let me borrow your lute, I'll sing for you this very evening."
"I can refuse you nothing, sweet lady," he said lightly, and raised her hand to his lips. The next moment he was up and gone as though afire, leaving Baraccus and Paulo staring at her as though she'd gone mad.
"What was that all about?" Paulo asked.
"Exactly what I said," she replied lightly. "I used to be a minstrel. Another of my hidden talents. I will sing for the boy this evening." She paused, her smile widening. "But I intend to sing for the boggies this afternoon. Coming?"
Paulo's grin split his face in half. "Damnation, woman. You're good."
Baraccus shook his head, a smile of admiration lighting his features. He rose to his feet. "I'm ready any time you are."
A crash brought Ton-Kel's head around with a snap; a man clutched at the doorway for support, gasping. "Triad," he called between breaths. "We need the Triads."
"We're here," answered Baraccus, while Paulo and Ton-Kel rose around him. "What is it?"
The man squinted into the room. "Hurry — bandits. The Blue Triad is under attack. The Reds — please help."
Lily squealed in distress. "Galen's out there!"
Behind her, Alfred emerged from the kitchen and reached for her, his eyes anxious. Lily ignored him and turned toward Baraccus, her eyes wide. "Save him!"
Baraccus gave her an abrupt nod and slapped Ton-Kel and Paulo on the shoulders. "Get our weapons. Let's go."
Moments later, as she ran down the main road out of town and past the stockade, Ton-Kel decided that the first thing she was going to do when all this was over was insist that the Black Triad acquire horses. She hadn't ridden much in her life, but it was never too late to learn, and the idea grew in appeal with each passing step.
The messenger had given them directions: a half-mile past the stockade was a large oak with a blaze on it that marked a patrol trail. The attack on the Blue Triad had come one or two miles farther on. Close to town, closer than the bandits had struck before. What had drawn them in?
Baraccus's long legs gave him the edge, but Paulo, unhampered by armor, managed to keep up, drawing on his natural quickness and boundless energy. Both were drawing away from her, vanishing around curves in the road and reappearing as she rounded them in their wake.
A growing stitch in her side caught her with every breath as she ran, her pouch with its precious contents slapping against her side. Her mind pummeled her with anxieties in time to her running feet.
They were going into battle. She still hadn't made any fireballs. Baraccus had no helm. Where was the Green Triad? What were the Reds doing? How had the Blues gotten into trouble so quickly? And why must this happen now, just when they'd been about to get somewhere?
Ahead, Baraccus and Paulo sprinted around a stand of trees, temporarily vanishing from her sight. "Blast it you two," she shouted, "slow down!"
Paulo zipped back into view and waved. "Sorry," he called, reaching out as she approached. "Here — take my hand."
"I can run on my own," she panted as she raced past. She called over her shoulder, "Just don't leave me behind. We shouldn't split up like this."
Baraccus paused and looked back, waited for them to catch up, then ran on, though this time he kept pace with her shorter stride. "Come on."
She decided not to waste breath pointing out that she was doing her best. She gritted her teeth, fought to keep her breathing even. She was not used to long-distance running. Doubtless this was another thing she would have to change. Curse it! Why couldn't she have been born tall and lean instead of short and buxom?
Just as she feared she'd reached her limit, Baraccus slowed at last to a walk. Panting, he scanned the trees on either side of the trail. "We should be almost there. Keep an eye out for that oak."
Paulo simply nodded, though he didn't seem too winded for speech. It looked as if Baraccus planned on walking until they found their landmark. Clutching her side and panting beside him, Ton-Kel hoped the damned tree was still a long way off.
But no. It seemed only a few moments before Paulo signaled and pointed. The promised oak, off to the right of the trail, dominated the woods around it, the blaze a pale scar against its time-darkened bark. The path, though screened from the casual observer by bushes, was exactly where the messenger said. Though obviously well traveled, it was so narrow they would have to go single file.
Baraccus took point and slipped into the brush; Paulo fell in close behind him, once more leaving Ton-Kel to bring up the rear. She stood and watched the leaves rustle back into place behind them. Well, let them go right ahead. They could just encounter the brambles, hanging branches, and spider webs first. She took a final deep breath, straightened, and followed.
The ache in her side had only just faded when Baraccus broke into a trot once more. Paulo followed suit and, with a groan, Ton-Kel picked up her pace.
The forest's shade embraced them as they ran along the trail, the coolness easing her throat, the soft loam muffling their footsteps. She brushed aside leafy fronds, jerking her hands back to her chest as a strand of devil's club stung her unsuspecting fingers.
The pain slowed her for a few strides and Paulo and Baraccus increased their lead. To her chagrin, she found she was no longer sheltered in their immediate wake. Branches sprang back from their passage and slapped her with bruising force; she threw her arms in front of her face to shield it. Blast!
To her relief, the path widened around a series of serpentine curves, finally opening into a broad clearing as they rounded a shrouded turn. Baraccus raised his hand and slowed.
"We must be getting close." He wiped sweat from his face with one hand. "Keep your eyes open and let's go slow and quiet. Paulo, take point."
Panting, Paulo nodded and shrugged his bow off his shoulder. He slipped to the front, nocking an arrow as he went — and whipped the bow up, drawing it back with a hiss of warning. Ton-Kel scuttled sideways into the shelter of the tree branches, gasping for breath as she fumbled for the sling at her belt, before the voices coming from ahead registered in her mind.
Two figures staggered into view, one supporting the other; the Blue Mystic, leaning heavily on the shoulders of the Red. Gottfried saw them and waved. "Black Triad! Thank the good God. Your Mystic is with you?"
Ton-Kel stepped forward. "I'm here. What…." She stopped, staring. The Blue Mystic raised his head to send her a beseeching look. He had an arrow sticking sideways through his face.
He started to say something, but the Red Mystic overrode him. Gottfried waved back the way they'd come. "We were at the smithy when the messenger came, so we made all speed to assist. I have stopped the bleeding, but I must go back — my Triad needs me. Take him!" He shoved the Blue Mystic at Ton-Kel.
She caught him, staggering. "Wait!" She wanted to point out that her Triad needed her as well, but Baraccus thrust in arm in front of Gottfried to stop him.
"Where a
re they?" he demanded.
Gottfried pointed up the trail in the direction he'd come. "Ahead, in the woods somewhere. They went on after I stopped for this one." He jerked his head at Ali.
Baraccus looked at Ton-Kel, chewing his lip as he thought. "We may need him," he said finally. "Patch him up and follow as soon as you can."
She opened her mouth for a blistering negation, but closed it again. Cavalier's prerogative — however idiotic it seemed. They were going on without her, were they? Did Baraccus think he and Paulo could do without their Mystic? Did they plan on depending on the Red Mystic in her place? She glared up at Baraccus. Bad form to call your Cavalier an idiot in front of an outsider. Instead she scowled, but nodded. "Very well. Go. We'll take care of him." She glared at Gottfried. "Won't we?"
Paulo and Baraccus were off before Gottfried could protest, and she pushed Ali back into the other Mystic's arms. "There's no time," Gottfried insisted. "My Triad—"
"And mine," she snapped, interrupting him. "Hold him up and let me see. What happened?"
Ali rolled his eyes at her as she grabbed his head to turn it to the light. "I was following Sir Charles and Dale to the stockade, because Sir Charles wanted to look and Dale did also," he said, the words only slightly slurred by the shaft of wood running lengthwise through his cheeks. "Although I do not understand what it is they wanted to see, but there was a man running away into the woods and he did not stop when Sir Charles told him to, so we ran after him and suddenly there are arrows flying out of the woods everywhere, and Dale cried that he got one and ran after him and Sir Charles ran after Dale, and I ran after them both, but suddenly I am lying on the ground with this arrow in my face and this most kind person stopped to help me—"
"This will be much easier if you don't talk," Ton-Kel said. To Gottfried she said, "What did you see?"
He shook his head. "Arrows. We heard shouting and ran into the woods, and I almost fell over this one. Sir Ulrik told me to take him, so I did. I have suggested him against pain and stopped the bleeding."
Well, he'd done that right enough. The arrow had entered the left cheek and come out the right, somehow missing the hinges of the Blue Mystic's jaw, which was how he was still able to talk. He must have had his mouth open when the arrow was fired. No big surprise there. She shot Gottfried a look of disgust. "You healed the arrow into the wound. We'll have to cut it out."
"Oh, I am not liking what I am hearing," wailed Ali.
She turned the look on him. "Oh, hush. It's not serious. Here, lie down so we can get this thing out."
With Gottfried's help, she lowered Ali to the ground. The comparative lightness of the wound reassured her — this was well within her capacity; it shouldn't even take her long. She hesitated, then gave up and looked at Gottfried. "They'll need a Mystic in there. Go find them. I'll follow in a few minutes."
Gottfried nodded, relieved. He turned and sprinted back the way he'd come, leaving her on her own. Well, that was fine. She'd been on her own for most of her life, and didn't need any help now.
But her Triad might.
Squelching the thought, she pulled her dagger from its sheath. "I have to cut the arrow into pieces," she told Ali. "Don't move your tongue. I'd hate to slip." Though his Triad might thank her for it later.
"Oh, kind lady, please be very careful with that knife. I think this will hurt me very much if you slip and cut me because I need to talk to chant to heal." Ali looked up at her, his eyes white-ringed with anxiety.
She ignored him, tapping the knife hilt against her hand. Perhaps it would be wiser to prepare her ink first, have it ready for when the arrow came out and tore open the wounds again. She reached for her pouch.
"I will heal him."
Ton-Kel's neck popped as her head whipped up, and she stared at the lady in the blue gown. A Lady indeed! Not tall, but with a stately presence that commanded respect. Black haired and beautiful, eyes more blue than the rich luster of her gown. No one Ton-Kel had ever seen before. "Wha-how-who are you?" she managed.
"Call me Laurel," the Lady replied. "I'm a healer." She reached down and caught Ton-Kel's free hand, drawing her to her feet. Her smile, surprisingly warm and friendly, took away none of her dignity. "I'll take care of him — you should be with your Triad."
Relief flooded Ton-Kel. She sheathed her knife and bowed. "Thank you, my Lady. Go back to Westmere when you're done — it's not safe out here." She turned and ran without waiting for a reply, her ears already straining for the sounds of conflict that would lead her to Baraccus and Paulo.
Tales from Opa: Three Tales of Tir na n'Og Page 35
