Mystic and Rider

by Sharon Shinn

  She nodded. “Let me know when you’re done with them,” she said and went to sit beside Cammon before the fire.

  The other four worked over the bodies for the next hour or so, murmuring among themselves as they came across a particularly fine knife or a leather belt that they liked. Even Donnal had resumed human shape to help check the bodies and drag them away from the fire.

  Cammon was quiet at first, but she could sense his presence beside her, curiously calming. “If it helps,” he said, “they really were intending to kill us. I have absolutely no doubt about that.”

  She smiled tightly without looking at him. Cammon she would have expected to pick up on her thoughts; Tayse, no. “I’ve killed men before,” she said. “There was a time I thought I was good at it. There was a time I could think of a lot more men I wanted to see dead. I couldn’t do it tonight, though. That will be a liability as we continue on this journey, I think.”

  “It’s because you’re afraid of how much death there is going to be,” he said softly.

  Now she turned her eyes toward him. He still looked so much the innocent youth, his ragged hair even more disreputable after days on the road, his clothes a sorry collection of rags. We have to buy something better for him to wear. Very next town we come to, she thought, letting her mind take refuge, just for a moment, in that unimportant detail. “Oh, yes,” she said. “We are setting out on a long road of blood.”

  “Turn away now, then,” he said.

  She shook her head. “I can’t.”

  “The part you play is too important.”

  She smiled a little. “So now you’re a forecaster as well as a reader? You can see my future as well as my heart?”

  “Only your heart—what little glimpses of it you ever bother to show. You’re the one who sees some role you’ve been cast in.”

  She sighed. “And I could be wrong. This all may be—” She flicked the fingers of both hands, as if dispersing troubles. “Posturing and playing and no death dealt. It may be nothing. But I think—” She shook her head and drew nearer to the fire. She was not sure even her own considerable body heat would be enough to warm her tonight. “I think we are heading into some kind of conflagration.”

  He gave her a little smile. “Lucky for us, then, you are so good with fire.”

  WHEN they were done with the bodies, Tayse called her over. They had piled the four men like so much cordwood on the side of the road. “The less trace we leave,” Tayse said again, “the better it will be.”

  “What about the one Kirra left on the road?” Justin asked.

  Kirra shrugged. “Mauled by a wild animal. Who will be able to tell differently?”

  “Good enough,” Tayse said.

  Senneth concentrated on the bodies, the basic materials of cloth and skin that would be most susceptible to fire. Gone the internal living flame, the raw blaze of creation; what remained now resembled nothing so much as the charred coals left behind after a bonfire sighed out. This fuel would catch fire, but it would never truly burn again.

  She spoke a quiet word, and the four bodies were torched to a yellow so bright that those watching stepped hurriedly back. The flames were quick and hungry and very well-behaved. Within minutes they had burned through the stack of bodies and then subsided. When Tayse bent to touch the ground where they had been, he rubbed his fingers together and looked at her over his shoulder.

  “A little black ash that will blow away by morning,” he said. “The ground isn’t even singed.”

  “Good,” she said, and turned back to the fire. She knew, they all knew, they should move on from this place right now, but they were all too weary to pack up and go.

  “I’ll watch,” Justin said.

  “I’ll help,” Donnal replied, and resumed his wolf shape.

  “We’ll leave early in the morning,” Tayse said. “And try to find someplace indoors to rest for a night or two. I think we could all do with a night of unbroken sleep.”

  Senneth nodded without answering, though it seemed she was the one he spoke to. She hunkered down in the blankets, closer to the fire. Still not warm, so she murmured to the fire itself. Hotter, stronger, higher flames. Cammon and Kirra drew back, but Senneth stayed as close as the threat of danger would allow.

  CHAPTER 9

  THE morning was cold, even for Senneth, and no one looked particularly rested. It was almost a relief to pack up and get back on the road, leaving this undesirable location behind. Senneth glanced around once, but they had left no overt signs of a fight behind them. Some blood in the grass, scuff marks in the dirt. A good tracker could probably read that story, but it would not be definitive. There would be proof of nothing. She turned her horse’s head and followed Tayse’s lead out of the camp.

  A few days ago, they had left the main road that served the southern Houses, but they were still following pretty well-traveled routes that connected the smaller towns to each other. The land around them was mostly open, with occasional valleys of wild grass and brambles, and occasional stands of fairly dense woods. They only passed a few other travelers, a mix of farmers and peddlers and gentry, and rarely exchanged more than a few courteous words with any of them. None of them looked like mercenaries, even civil guards disguised as mercenaries. Neither Cammon nor Donnal showed alarm when any of them approached, and Senneth took her cues from them.

  A few hours after lunch they came to a small town in unaligned territory between Fortunalt and Rappengrass lands. It seemed to be something of a local crossroads, for it boasted two inns and a number of taverns, and the stables at the far edge of town appeared large enough to hold a fair number of horses.

  “Forge down that way,” Tayse noted, jerking his head.

  “Looks like a market town,” Senneth said.

  “We could stand to replenish supplies,” Tayse said.

  “And find something for Cammon to wear,” Kirra added with a laugh.

  “Who are we this time?” Justin wanted to know.

  Kirra shook her head. “I don’t think I should be the fine lady again, not so close to Forten City. Not even a lady from the Thirteenth House.”

  “But we might be some agents carrying out transactions for Malcolm Danalustrous,” Senneth said. “That seems harmless enough.”

  “My father will be—interested—to hear how much business he and his vassals have been conducting in the southern regions lately,” Kirra said.

  Senneth glanced at her. “A bad idea, then, you think?”

  Kirra laughed. “Well, if he doesn’t like it, he can tell us so once he finds out.”

  “But I think we should not volunteer much information, and perhaps no one will think to ask,” Senneth said. “Travelers must pass this way all the time and not share details of their journeys.”

  Cammon spoke for the first time. “It’s a strange place, though,” he said.

  They all looked at him. “Strange how?” Tayse asked.

  “There’s—shouldn’t there be more people on the street? At this hour of day? It feels like—there’s fear or something here. In the houses. In the alleys.”

  “Fear of soldiers? Fear of retribution?” Senneth asked. “Are there Rappengrass guards here enforcing some kind of order?”

  He shook his head. “I can’t—I don’t think so. It’s just—it’s strange.”

  “He’s right. The streets are a little too empty,” Tayse said. His hand had dropped automatically to his sword hilt. Justin’s tiniest dagger was in his palm. “Trouble of some kind has visited this place.”

  “Should we ride on?” Kirra asked.

  Senneth glanced around. Two women were hurrying between buildings, their arms wrapped around each other as if for warmth or support. A cluster of men stood outside a tavern, so close to the door they could dart back inside instantly if need be. Here and there, in shop windows and the upper stories of houses, faces were watching through the curtains. A man rode by on horseback, faster than it seemed he should. Even the dust behind him seemed in a hurr
y to float away.

  “Or stay,” Senneth said slowly, “and see what the trouble is.”

  THEY rode warily down the main street to the stables, all of them alert for any kind of attack. The big wooden door was closed, so Tayse swung down to push it open, and the rest of them rode in. Instantly they were enveloped in the warm, sharp smells of horse and manure and oiled leather. Two middle-aged men jogged over from a stall near the back.

  “Room to stable six horses for a night or two?” Tayse asked.

  One of the men glanced around at the new arrivals; the other turned and went back to his chores. “Room if you really want to stay,” the ostler said.

  “Something we should know about?” Tayse asked. His voice was gentle, but he managed to make the words sound menacing.

  The man glanced around again, this time at the interior of the barn. He was heavyset but thick with muscle; his clothes were rough and dirty, as an ostler’s would be, but he looked like a reasonably decent man, Senneth thought.

  “There’ve been attacks the past two weeks or so,” the man said in a low voice. “At first we thought it was a wolf, even a cougar. You know. Wild creature come too close to civilization and learning to like the easy life. But none of our hunters can catch it. We put out the usual poisons, and it won’t take them. Now and then someone swears they’ve seen it, but it’s so fast they can’t make out its face or even the color of its fur. But then, the next morning, there’s a body in the street.”

  “Human body?” Tayse asked, not sounding particularly shocked.

  The ostler shrugged. “Twice. Little girl, only five years old, shouldn’t have been out wandering the streets anyway, but her mama said she would get up and walk in her sleep, and what should she do, shackle her to the bed? But now she’s wishing she had. And then an old man, always drunk on bad wine, you could find him sleeping in any alley come morning. Only one morning, he wasn’t sleeping, he was dead. And then there have been dogs— five or six of those. A cat. No one knows what will be attacked next.”

  Tayse looked straight up at Senneth, as if he thought she might understand this mystery. She didn’t say anything.

  “And no one knows what it might be?” Tayse asked.

  The other man shook his head and lowered his voice. “Folks are saying,” he said, “it might be mystic work.”

  “Really,” Kirra said in a sharp voice. “How would that be possible?”

  The ostler gave her one quick look and returned his attention to Tayse. “Some mystics can take animal shape, you know. And they can move faster and strike harder than a real animal. Or maybe it takes the form of a different animal every time it goes out to kill, and that’s why no one can say for sure what it looks like.”

  “Are you having trouble in these parts with mystics?” Tayse asked.

  The ostler shrugged. “Not really. I mean—my mother-in-law was always a little gifted, you know—she could do small spells and was a wonder with the garden. And folks in this town never got too stirred up about mystics the way they have in the big cities. But that was before this creature came. Now—well, people are talking. And the Daughters of the Pale Mother have been by, now and then, warning us all not to let magic drift into our lives. If this animal turns out to be some kind of witch creature—well, I think you’ll be seeing some angry people. I’m a little worried for my mother-in-law, to tell you the truth. I see people casting looks at her, as if she knows something she’s not telling.”

  “Everybody knows something he doesn’t tell,” Tayse said with a slight smile. “But I have to say, your creature sounds real enough to me. I wouldn’t be so quick to blame magic for what might be nature.”

  “No,” the ostler said. “And the old man who got killed—he was wearing a moonstone amulet. I wouldn’t think a mystical creature would be able to touch him if he was wearing a moonstone, would you?”

  “I wouldn’t,” Tayse said.

  “In any case,” the ostler said, “watch yourselves while you’re here.”

  “We will,” Tayse said. “I imagine we’ll be safe enough if we stay together. Any place you’d recommend we spend the night?”

  “My brother runs the Golden Cup, just up the street. Pretty sure he’s got a few rooms open.”

  “We’ll try it, thanks.”

  In a few moments they’d paid the man in advance, unstrapped their bags, and were jostling each other as they moved in fairly close formation down the street. They only passed two others during their short walk, and both of them were moving at a near run.

  “So what do you think it is?” Kirra asked Senneth.

  “That was going to be my very first question,” Tayse said.

  She couldn’t decide if she should be amused or annoyed. “Why would you think I would know?”

  “You know everything,” Kirra said. “Or most everything, particularly the things no one else knows.”

  “Well, he didn’t really tell us very much,” she said. “It could be anything. We’d need to know more about—” She shrugged. “How it kills, what state it leaves the bodies in, what kind of tracks it leaves behind. How often it strikes.”

  “I don’t think it’s magical,” Cammon said. “I think we’re the only ones in town who’ve brought in any abilities.”

  “That would be my guess,” Senneth said. “I’m sure we’ll find out more over dinner.”

  TWO hours later they had settled into their rooms, washed up, and gone down to the taproom to arrange themselves around a couple of tables. Tayse and Justin sat closer to the bar, where they might hear or be included in the conversation of the local men. The mystics sat nearer the back, where travelers were more likely to congregate, so they could pick up stories of the road.

  Not that there were many other customers in the taproom at all, Senneth noted. People were afraid to walk the streets alone at night, especially after they’d tipped back a few glasses of home-brewed, if there was a creature lurking in the shadows waiting to strike. And travelers were disinclined to linger anyplace that seemed marked for trouble. If this predator wasn’t disposed of quickly—or if tales of its supernatural qualities became commonly believed—this little crossroads town might lose all its commerce and livelihood within a few weeks.

  When the very pretty, very young waitress brought their food, Senneth tossed her a coin in payment. “Slow tonight,” she commented.

  The girl nodded glumly. She had a riot of brown curls and a full red mouth, and she probably did quite well in tips and favors. “Been that way for two weeks or more,” she said. “Ever since—whatever that creature is—came to town.”

  “Ostler told us a bit about it,” Donnal said. “Kills something every night, does it?”

  She glanced around the table once, showed no interest in the women, and clearly decided Donnal was the best of the male prospects, for she gave him a little smile. “Not every night. Every second or third night, I guess it’s been. My sister said she saw it once, running down the street with a bloody hand in its mouth.”

  “Did she say what color it was?” Donnal asked. “How big it was?”

  She looked surprised at his interest. “Why do you want to know?”

  He gave her a smile, but his face still looked serious. He was incapable of ever looking other than serious, Senneth thought. “Done some hunting in my time,” he said. “I thought—maybe it was something I’ve come up against before—”

  “Well, we’ve had hunters and hunters here,” she said pessimistically. “This one used to shoot game with Ariane Rappengrass herself. This one used to track wolves for King Baryn.” She shook her head. “You know how men talk. But none of them could kill the thing.”

  “They think it’s a wolf? Is that what your sister said it looked like?”

  She shrugged. “She said it was the color of a fox, but bigger. And fast as a deer. Faster. She said she’s never seen anything run so fast.”

  “Northern harewolf, it runs fast,” said a man sitting one table over. He was dressed in well
-worn travel clothes, and it appeared as if it had been weeks since he washed his tangled gray hair or beard. “I’ve killed a few in my time, though.”

  The pretty girl looked over at him with even less interest than she’d showed Cammon and the women. “Have you?” she said politely.

  The traveler nodded. “Any reward being offered, if this creature would be killed or captured?” he said. “It might be worth my time to try it, if the money was good enough.”

  “A few gold pieces,” she said. “The innkeepers and tavern masters have each put up some coins. They’re losing business.”

  The traveler looked interested. “Gold pieces,” he said. “I’ll have to find out how many.”

  The girl rolled her eyes at Donnal. “Were you wanting anything else to eat? You or your friends?”

  “Thank you, no,” he said, and she left.

  “What do you think?” Cammon asked.

  Senneth smiled. “I think no one has any idea what it looks like or how fast it is.”

  “You do,” Cammon said.

  “Not sure yet,” she replied.

  They sat in the bar another hour or so but didn’t glean much helpful information. The four of them paid their shot and went back upstairs to their rooms. Cammon and Donnal were sharing a room across the hall with Tayse and Justin, but they came directly into the women’s quarters. A few minutes later, the Riders arrived.

  “Learn anything?” Tayse said, leaning against the rickety chest of drawers that was the only furniture in the room besides the bed. Senneth thought for a moment that he was so big and so heavy the chest would splinter under his weight, but it held firm.

  “Fast as a deer, red as a fox, doesn’t kill every night,” she recited. “You?”

  “It prefers to eat only sweetbreads,” Tayse said. “Leaves a lot of the body to go to waste. That’s why it kills so often.”

  “Aahhh,” she said, and sank onto the bed next to Kirra. They all looked at her.

  “So you do know,” Kirra said.