5.Death of Chaos
XV
SOMETIME AROUND MID-morning Gairloch carried me from the muddy slop of the track from Faklaar onto a firmer road composed mainly of small stones and gravel set in a clay as hard as rock. About then the rain lifted into low gray clouds. The wind picked up, enough that the trees swayed in the wind, but the air still smelled acrid and musty.
Huts gave way to small cottages and stubble-turned fields set off with split-rail fences, alternating with tree-covered hills-presumably local wood lots. In short, the countryside became more ordered, and Gairloch carried me more quickly. The mustiness in the air gave way to wood smoke.
Midday found us just beyond another unnamed village on a hillside over another stream I had never known existed. Gairloch found grass, some actually with a trace of green, and I ate hard biscuits and harder cheese, and the last of the dried peaches. I wished I'd brought more dried fruit, and even dried meat, tough as it could be. Instead, I had hard cheese and biscuits-plenty of both.
Then we traveled on, under a colder, drier wind.
The first hint of a larger town was a brown haze over the hilltop; the second was a line of trees bordering a fair-sized river; the third was a raised causeway leading to a stone-pillared bridge across the river. The stone-paved causeway- wide enough for two wagons abreast-ran through lower-lying fields filled with graying hay stubble.
I edged Gairloch to the right as two oxen pulled an empty farm wagon off the bridge.
“Gee... eee...” The drover had a light goad, but held it loosely. The oxen seemed to respond to his voice alone, unlike a lot of horses. Gairloch stepped around two women carrying baskets in slings and onto the bridge.
“Handsome lad...”
“... always looking, Nirda. Clersek is nice enough.”
“You have him, then.”
“And maybe I will.”
From the central span of the bridge, squinting against the sun that hung just above the town, I could see the walls of Sunta, not so impressive as those of Jellico or Fenard, but of solid gray stone. Another short causeway led from the edge of the river across low-lying muddy ground almost to the walls themselves.
The southern gates to Sunta, while guarded, looked almost rusted open, and I doubted they had been closed in years. At the outer gate, one of the guards, a thin man in brown leathers with a crimson sash, motioned to me. “What do you have there, young fellow?” He pointed to the bigger pack.
“My tools, ser.”
“Tools?” He raised his eyebrows.
“Chisels, planes, a small crosscut saw, an adz head, that sort of thing. I'm a woodworker.”
“Let's see.”
Since he didn't radiate chaos, but more a bored look, I decided not to create shields and disappear. That would certainly have the whole city looking for me, based on my experiences in Jellico. I could always disappear, anytime short of someone putting chains on me.
I got down and started to unfasten the pack.
“That's enough,” he said as the smooth wood of the saw grip appeared. “Why are you coming to Sunta?”
“To seek out a journeyman position.”
“Pretty young for that, aren't you?”
“I have to start sometime, and there was no room in the village.” I shrugged, then gave a self-conscious grin.
“Good luck, fellow.” He waved me on. “The craft quarter is off to the right of the main square, just beyond the Temple.”
“Thank you.”
I climbed back on Gairloch and looked at Sunta as if I'd never seen a big town before. Inside the gate, the street was paved in a fashion, with flat stones of all shapes, pieced together and roughly level. Some urchins walked alongside.
“... show you the best inn in Sunta... just a copper, ser...”
“... you want more than an empty bed, ser, I'll show you where to find it...”
“... they're all Kyphran goats, ser,” declared a taller youth with a scar over his eyebrow and a knife at his belt. “Best you try the Black Skillet.”
I frowned. The older youth didn't press or jostle. I slowed Gairloch with a gentle tug on the hackamore. “A Kyphran goat? How is a Kyphran goat different?”
“You an outlander, ser?”
I nodded. My accent was obvious. “Montgren way.”
“You got goats there?”
“Mostly sheep. Famous sheep.” I still wasn't about to forget my work with the sheep of Montgren-or the serious Countess Merella. I grinned. “But smelly sheep.”
The youth grinned back, then erased the smile professionally. “Sheep or goats, they're the same. The ones that run free, they're the smart ones. The ones that are penned or slaughtered, they're the Kyphran goats.”
“I fail to see.” I did, but it seemed better to play dumb. I could have come from Worrak as well as from Faklaar.
“The Kyphran ruler says any goat that isn't penned can be killed or held for a bounty,” explained the youth slowly, as he walked beside me. The other urchins had peeled away, waiting for another traveler.
I decided he wasn't exactly an urchin, and let my order senses extend around him, finding a touch of chaos, and a thin-linked mail vest under the stained shirt and tattered herder's jacket.
“The Black Skillet, you say?”
“The very best, ser. And tell 'em that Hempel sent you.”
He turned away, but I was bothered. So the autarch's law about free goats had become the basis for a derogatory term in Hydlen. And someone was watching the city gates, if casually. All of it was to be expected, in a way, I supposed, but it still bothered me.
Unlike the houses in Kyphros, a lot of those on the edge of Sunta seemed to have thatched roofs, although the walls seemed to be plaster over a basketlike frame of saplings. The plaster walls had a lot of cracks and patches.
“... 'way... give way...”
I edged Gairloch to the side of the street as a two-horse team rumbled past us and toward the gate. The slightly acrid odor of tanned hides remained in the air, mixing with smoke, and other less appetizing odors, some coming from the open sewer on the other side of the street.
Gairloch picked his way toward the square, where a handful of carts were scattered around a patch of browned grass and a few trees in their gray winter leaves. In the center was the pedestal for a statue, but no statue. Had it been for the previous duke? Or just empty from neglect?
Beyond the square I could see two inns-the Black Skillet and the Golden Bowl.
In addition to the black of the pan on the sign, the plaster walls of the Black Skillet were painted black, imparting a gloomy air to the place that seemed less than orderly. The yard was churned mud, and a smoky haze surrounded the building.
I rode past it and toward the Golden Bowl, which was situated another hundred cubits along the street off the square and seemed slightly higher-or higher enough that the yard was merely damp packed clay. The smoke seemed to come from the chimney, rather than through the windows and doors, and the plaster was dirty beige.
I rode to the back and found the stable. Two men wheeled an empty carriage into the big door at one end.
“Hello, the stable.”
One of the men pointed to a figure in the shadows. The other stable hand was a sullen-faced youngster with a bruise across one cheek. “Two for the pony double, three single.”
I gave him three and got another corner stall half under the brace posts where a taller animal would have hit its head. Gairloch just whuffed as I unsaddled and brushed him.
I shielded my gear and made my way through the fading light toward the public room. The Golden Bowl appeared at least marginally drier and cleaner, and it hadn't been recommended by a shill-or whatever Hempel might be.
The smoke in the public room smelled like food, rather than pure grease, and there was a table along the wall. I'd gotten very fond of wall tables since I'd come to Candar.
“You're new here, aren't you?” The voice was warm, almost sweet, and the young woman-a girl not much older than I-had red hair and freckles. She also had a nice smile above the wide leather apron. She wore a wide bronze bracelet without ornamentation.
“I haven't been to Sunta. What do you have to drink?”
“Light or dark ale, redberry, green juice, and white thunder.”
“White thunder?”
“If you don't know what it is, you don't want it.” Her smile turned wry.
“I'll have redberry. What's good to eat?”
“Most of it. Tonight the kisha's pretty good, and it's cheap.”
“If you say so. I'll have it.”
“Good choice.” She wiped the table with a half-clean rag and then slipped back toward the kitchen.
I glanced around the room. In one corner were three older men, clustered around what looked to be a Capture board. As I watched, the other serving woman, red-haired also, but older and hard-faced, refilled all three mugs with light ale. She also wore a bronze wristband.
A man who looked to be perhaps Justen's apparent age, neither old nor young, sat in the other corner next to a woman with painted lips who leaned against his shoulder, even as they both ate.
The younger serving woman set two crockery platters on the adjoining table. “That's six.”
“Six... reasonable, but it must be dog meat,” laughed the thin man.
“No, ser. Not dog, not horse. Teilsyr got a good price on an ox.” The serving girl turned to me. “Here's your redberry.” She set the redberry on the table, gently, without a thump, and offered another smile. “That's three. I'm Alasia.”
I set out the coins.
“You come from a long way away?”
“Montgren,” I lied again.
“Are you going back before long?”
“Depends,” I answered.
A wistful look crossed her mobile features. “Someday, I'd like to see a place like that. Travelers say it's peaceful there.”
“It is peaceful. It's mostly sheep. Sheep and more sheep.”
She offered a quick smile and was gone, responding to the insistent beckoning gesture from the man with the woman clinging to him.
I sipped the redberry, waited for the kisha, whatever kisha was, and listened to the conversations around the room, those I could catch.
“... keeps a nicer place, Teilsyr does...”
“... fine if you're aware of the tariff...”
“Try the burkha if you like hot, or the Kyphran chilied mutton...”
“Real Kyphrans don't eat mutton; they eat goat and beans.”
“... young fellow a soldier, you think?”
“... could be. Trying not to be, maybe. Short hair, no beard to speak of...”
Half consciously, I ran my fingers along my jaw, fingering the scab I had picked up shaving in Faklaar.
“... anyone could be anything these days... Duke not much more than a herder with a deadly blade... white devil at his side...”
Clearly, the new Duke had some problems, at least with his image.
“Here's your kisha.” With the dish and a small loaf of oat bread, I got another friendly smile. “That's three.”
I gave her five and smiled back, but she didn't linger long. Wondering if I'd see her again, now that she had my money, I shrugged and began to eat the kisha, long strips of meat soaked in a mint-bitter sauce and laid over flat green noodles. Not as good as burkha, but better than the stew I'd had in Faklaar. As I ate, I continued to listen as well as I could.
“... seen Stulpa lately?”
“... just his apprentice... said he's gone off... left with Duke Berfir's troops... have to keep Freetown from taking the valley...”
“... need with a chemist?”
“... stuff the apprentice gave me... didn't work right with the glazes...”
“... frig... noble Duke Colaris... bless his soul...”
A clinking sound at the corner of the public room-that and the look on Alasia's face-alerted me. Three men barged in, and I threw up shields. That meant I couldn't see anything, but they also couldn't see me as I stood and edged toward the archway to the kitchen.
“There's a young fellow. Came in here. Brown-haired and wearing browns. He's a spy. Where is he?”
Their information was right, and their techniques were unsettlingly direct. I kept edging toward the kitchen, using my senses, and trying not to touch anyone.
Clunk...
Someone's mug went over, probably because I brushed it.
“Why'd you do that, Hyld?”
“I didn't do anything! Clumsy oaf.”
I kept moving.
“He was sitting there,” offered Alasia. “He left a while ago.”
The not-too-sturdy plank floor vibrated as the three stomped toward the wall table where I had been.
“Sure, miss. His kisha's still hot, and he didn't finish it, and his mug's half full. Check the back!”
One of the guards went running toward me, and I flattened myself against the wall as he rushed past. I had the urge to trip him, but refrained, instead swinging out and following him into the kitchen.
“You! Did you see anyone come this way?”
I could feel the cold iron of his blade as he jabbed it toward the cook and the scullery maid.
“No, ser. There's been no one here, 'ceptwise Alasia and Rirla.”
“No, ser...”
“... who else'd be here in this friggin' heat?”
Predictably he marched right out the back door and into the yard. I followed him.
Unpredictably, he turned around and ran into me.
“Oofff...”
His blade whipped through the spot where I had been. Half sitting, half rolling, I scrambled away and a line of fire creased my arm. Lips squeezed shut, I rolled from under his swings and rebuilt my shields.
“Frytt! Son of a bitch's out here somewhere. I sliced him! I know I did. He's another damned wizard! Won't escape cold iron, the bastard!”
I didn't think that it was that dark in the yard. I had seen him with my momentary lapse of shields. Since I couldn't see while holding the shields, and was finding my way toward the stable in my own private dark, I certainly wasn't in any position to know. With the fire in my arm, I wasn't dropping the shield to find out, or to find out why he was so upset.
Trying to step quietly, I almost tiptoed along the stable wall, ignoring the wild swings in the air as the guard whipped his blade back and forth. He headed toward the front of the inn. After all, who would hide in the closed stable?
I felt my way toward Gairloch. Sensing no one else around, I dropped the shield. It was dark, but I could see enough. The slash in my arm was more than a scrape, though not too deep, but there was blood everywhere. I fumbled through my pack and jammed some cloth against the wound. I thought it was a work shirt.
“Search the stable.”
“He's here somewhere.”
I took a deep breath and dropped into the corner under the manger, waiting to raise my shield until I heard steps. Holding shields was work, and I didn't have that much energy to spare. Gairloch snorted, but didn't step on me, tight as the fit was.
“Check the stalls!”
I swallowed and pulled the shield up around me, hoping I didn't have to hold it long, and keeping my lips closed, even as I tried to channel some order into the slice. The damned thing hurt.
“He's not here...”
“What about the comer stall?”
I could sense a figure looking into Gairloch's stall.
Whheee... eeeee... Gairloch sidled away from the intruder, shielding me even more.
“Not here. What about the loft?”
More scraping and scuttling followed, and I had to hold my nose to keep from sneezing as hay dust filtered down around me through the gaps in the boards overhead.
Wheee... eeee...
“Stuff it! Make you into dinner!” snapped a guard, so close he could have been standing over me.
So Gairloch whuffed instead. I wanted to hug him.
“Sure he's gone?”
“He's wounded. Would you stay around here? Can't be that good a wizard if he's running.”
“Where did he go?”
“Probably right out the front while you were yelling, Dosca.”
“No stuff in the stable?”
“No. Rudur checked that soon's he came in.”
“They can take care of the damned horse in the morning. He's not going anywhere.”
The voices moved off, and I lowered the shields, and tried to rest for a moment, still holding the shirt against the wound. I heard the stable hands walk by at least twice, but after the guards no one looked into Gairloch's stall.
As I waited, I wondered about Alasia, the serving girl who'd tried to cover for me. I hoped she hadn't gotten punished.
Later, when the stable got quiet and dark, I checked the arm again with my own order senses, using what little reserves I had to force out the traces of chaos. Then I ripped a section off the tail of the shirt and bound the gash.
“You shouldn't make so much noise.”
I looked up. Alasia smiled at me from the stall door.
“Probably not. Did you get in trouble for lying about when Heft?”
“No. Not much.”
She was lying, and I could see the bruises across her cheek, and sense those on her arms, although she huddled under a woolen shawl.
“I'm sorry,” I told her. “You didn't have to lie for me.”
Although I didn't have too much order to spare I lifted my good arm and touched her face, letting a little order trickle into the bruises.
“They said you were a wizard.”
I wasn't sure, but she seemed pale, despite the order I had given her. Was she one of those who were terrified of any sort of wizardry?
“I know just enough to get myself in trouble,” I admitted. “Most of the time, I'm a woodworker.”
“Are you going back to Montgren?” Her voice was low, and she looked over her shoulder toward the flickering lamps of the Golden Bowl.
“No. I hadn't planned to go that way.”
“Will you take me wherever you're going? Please?” She glanced over her shoulder again, and she was trying not to shiver.
I let my senses run over her, trying not to be too intimate, but learning she was very feminine-and without a trace of chaos. Lack of chaos did not mean she was good-only that she was less likely to be thoroughly evil.
“You supposed to be going to the jakes?”
She nodded.
“Go, and come back.”
She scuttled toward the small building at the end of the stable.
One way or another I wasn't safe in the stable, not any longer. Clearly, they thought I had fled and wouldn't be coming back. Just as clearly, they'd be back to sell Gairloch and all my gear-probably at first light, although I didn't know why they hadn't tried that already, but I wasn't questioning that small bit of good fortune. I quickly saddled Gairloch, and after releasing the shield from around my staff and pack and bags, I hoisted them onto Gairloch. I tried to use my good arm.
As I was strapping down my bedroll, Alasia slipped back. “You can't just ride out. There are guards there.”
I frowned. “Why do you want to leave here?”
“You idiot!” She raised her left hand and pointed to the bronze band. “Don't you know what that means? Teilsyr owns me. If he wants to sleep with me, he can. If he wants me to sleep with someone else, I have to.”
“That's slavery...”
“Bond servitude they call it. The Dukes like it.” She glanced toward the inn again. “Please...”
“Are you ready to go?” I asked.
“What are you going to do?”
“You'll fall asleep. Don't worry.” I was concentrating, trying to recall how I had put the officers of the Prefect of Gallos to sleep. This time it was easier, but not much, because I was tired.
“Don't...” Alasia slumped into a heap.
With a deep breath I lifted her body, and I sort of enjoyed it, although I didn't have any illusions about her interest in me. I just laid her across Gairloch's saddle. Then I eased open the stall door and led Gairloch to the half-open stable slider.
Again, I raised my shields and walked Gairloch slowly through the yard toward the two guards leaning against the plastered side of the building to the left of the inn.
“You hear something?” asked one of the guards.
“Besides Teilsyr and his whips?”
“How's he get 'em?”
“Geras the leather fellow makes them.”
“I meant the girls.”
“Buys 'em. How else?”
I kept walking, patting Gairloch and trying to reassure him as we edged toward the street. No wonder she wanted out! Whips?
“Sure you don't hear something?”
“Look! Do you see anything?”
Gairloch's hoofs clicked on the stones of the road.
“It's out there. Somewhere across the square. You can hear better when it's dark.”
“I don't know.”
When we got to the other side of the square, I dropped the shield and eased Alasia's limp form in front of me and climbed into the saddle.
I turned Gairloch toward the northern end of the town and hoped that the gates there were as rusted open as the southern ones had been.
They were, and a single guard half watched, half dozed, as I struggled to hold shields around the three of us while we crossed the torchlit space. Gairloch even stepped more delicately, it seemed, but that might have been my imagination.
Less than a half kay beyond the walls, on the northern causeway, I dropped the shield. Although I was sweating, in the cold air, with the effort of almost continual order-mastery, I was exhausted and shivering. I fastened my jacket tightly and kept riding, letting Gairloch pick his own pace. He was the one carrying double.
Although it took a long time, we didn't go awfully far- only until I could reach a woodlot, or a grove-I couldn't tell. The grove was maybe three or four kays beyond the gate and the first one that wasn't close to a hut or a cottage.
I struggled to get Alasia down, perhaps more intimately than I should have. I was glad Krystal and Tamra weren't watching. After wrapping a blanket around her, I laid her on a pile of evergreen needles. I found some cheese and drank the last dregs of the redberry. It was turning fermented-type sweet, but it was still all right.
After a little while, I stopped shivering and started feeling merely exhausted and achy. The smell of the evergreens overhead helped.
“Oh... who...” Alasia jerked upright. “What did you do?”
“I put you to sleep. That was so we could get past the guards. You're all right. I didn't do anything except carry you out of Sunta.”
“I don't fall asleep, just like that. And I don't faint. Even at the wrong time of month I don't faint. What did you do?”
“I told you. I helped you go to sleep. That's all.” I tried to make my words gentle, but my arm throbbed, and my head ached, probably from holding shields when I was exhausted.
“Where are we?”
“Probably four kays out of Sunta on the north road.”
She shivered and wrapped the blanket around her. “I'm not dressed for traveling.”
“You said you wanted to go, and we couldn't exactly wait,” I pointed out. That got a slight laugh, a nervous one.
“How did you get by the guards?” she asked.
“I walked by.” My stomach twisted at the partial truth. “I tried to make it so they didn't see us. One of them heard me, but the other said he was imagining things. They talked about Teilsyr and his whips.”
“I had to get away... Rirla, she already has scars.” She shook her head.
“I'm sorry.” I shifted my weight from one buttock to the other, and winced as I put weight on the injured arm. “Why didn't anyone search the stall?” I asked, trying to change the subject.
“They did-right after you went inside. That's how it works. They didn't see anything; there was nothing in your saddle. So you had to have your coins on you. Teilsyr's men come in. They claim you're a spy from Kyphros, and no one cares what happens.” She shrugged. “You seemed too nice to be a spy. And too young. I didn't know you were a wizard. Are you really as young as you look?”
There was something she wasn't saying, but I was tired, and I couldn't figure it out, except maybe the distrust of wizards.
“I'm as young as I look. That's why I got sliced up by those thugs.” I yawned.
“You're not some wizened old man?”
“No. I'm a tired, wounded young woodworker who knows just enough wizardry to get in trouble, and I'm doing my best to help you.” I stifled a yawn. “Are you all right?”
“I don't have any clothes for traveling.”
“I think I've got a shirt you can have. I'll dig it out in the morning. Just wrap up for now,” I told her. “I need some sleep.”
“Are you sure we're away from Sunta?”
“Not far enough, but I need the sleep, and you could use some.” I yawned again, and my arm throbbed.
“I don't know.”
“Fine. This whole business has worn me out. You stay awake and listen for the innkeeper's guards.” I did set wards, almost out of habit, around the camp and around me. I mumbled “Good night” to Alasia.
“Goodnight.”
I could almost feel sleep and exhaustion crashing over me. Almost immediately, I dropped into another dream where the silver-haired woman was trying to tell me something about the earth. She was a druid. At least, in my dream, she was.
Wheeee... eeeeee!!!
Gairloch's cry roused me straight out of the dream or sleep, but, for an instant, I was so tired that I just lay there.
Wheeeee... eeeee!!!
“Quiet...” hissed a voice. “Damn you...”
Wheeeee... eeee!!!
I struggled up, just as Alasia climbed onto Gairloch, right beyond the edge of the trees. I hadn't even taken two steps before Gairloch bucked in a way I wouldn't have believed if I hadn't seen his reaction to the stable hand in Freetown when I'd bought him. Alasia hung on for perhaps two heaves before she was on the ground, moaning.
Gairloch settled down, and I gave him a pat on the shoulder.
Alasia tried to sit up, but her shoulder sagged in a way that indicated more than bruises. She wore my waterproof, about the only piece of my clothing that hadn't been within my wards.
“Sit still!” I snapped. “That is, if you ever want to use that arm again.”
Her eyes were hard, and as cold as the white stars overhead. That I could see even in the darkness, since, like most order-masters, my night vision is good. She had loaded Gairloch with most of the provisions, anything that had been outside my personal wards.
I leaned forward, then away as I saw the glint of a knife in her uninjured hand. “Do you want me to heal that shoulder, or keep the knife?”
“I'll keep the knife,” she grunted.
“If that's the way you want it.” I started to lead Gairloch away.
She raised her hand as if to throw the knife, but she shuddered and slumped forward. The knife thudded on the hard ground.
I dropped the reins and hurried to her. Between my order senses and my fingers, I could tell that she had broken both her upper arm and collarbone. How she had even moved was a wonder.
It took me a while to find some branches, and cut them. I wasn't exactly happy about using my good saw on resinous evergreens, but I needed to do something. Then I did a quick job of planing and shaping, and cobbled together a sort of sling that immobilized her bones. I offered her a little order for healing, but not much, because I had little to spare after little sleep and the night's events. I also didn't feel that charitable, not after her effort to rob me and steal Gairloch, even if she distrusted men and wizards. I'd tried to help her, hadn't I?
The sky was graying by the time I had eased her out of the waterproof and into the old tattered work shirt that I'd bled over. It might pass for some sort of work smock on her. Then I strapped the splint gadget around her. She moaned the whole time, but she wasn't really awake, either. The bronze bracelet was actually brazed in place, and whoever had done it hadn't been gentle, since there were white scars under it on her wrist. That made me feel worse.
I was still weak. So I did take a chunk of hard cheese and some orderspelled water from my canteen after that.
Then I packed up and lifted her into the saddle. I almost didn't make it, but struggled up behind her limp figure.
Whheee... eeeee... Gairloch pawed the ground.
“I know. She wasn't very nice, but I don't think people have been nice to her, either.” One way or the other, though, if I left her near Sunta, I had the feeling the story would be that I had kidnapped her, and I'd be wanted by more than Teilsyr's hired guards.
Gairloch plodded; Alasia moaned; and I hung on.
By the time the sun actually cleared the horizon, Gairloch was walking steadily northwest on the road to Arastia, perhaps another eight to ten kays away from Sunta. The road ran along the ridge lines, and while the woods came close to the road on the uphill side, the trees had been cut back on the downhill side to allow a view behind us and downhill.
The sky had begun to fill with high hazy white clouds, moving quickly from Easthorns, and the wind was chill. I could see goose bumps on Alasia's neck.
“Let me down! Let go of me.”
I wondered how long she had been awake, but didn't ask. I half let go, holding just loosely enough that she wouldn't fall.
“Oh...” She grabbed Gairloch's mane, and he, the ever-obedient pony, stopped. “Oooooo... bastard!”
I could sense the pain, but I wasn't feeling totally charitable. “I'm not a bastard. You don't trust men or wizards, and you have decided that I'm both. You don't have to trust me- but you also didn't have to try to steal everything I owned.”
“You're just like all the others.”
“I could have left you. I've splinted and tried to help heal your arm, and I've carried you along as best I could.” I took a deep breath. “Do you want to walk from here?”
“Where are we?”
“A lot closer to Sunta than we would have been if you hadn't tried to steal everything I own.”
“I did not. I didn't touch anything you wore.”
I laughed.
“It's true.” Her voice was low. “I just wanted a mount and food to get away from Teilsyr.”
“I would have been happy to help you without being robbed.”
“And what would you have asked of me? Look what you did.”
“I didn't do anything. You did. Your arm and collarbone got broken when you tried to ride off on my pony.” I took a deep breath and swung down off Gairloch, taking his reins. “I owe you something for trying to help me, but you're making it hard. Now... we've got to keep moving, and Gairloch's been carrying double for too long. Hold on.”
Alasia swayed in the saddle, but grabbed my staff for balance as Gairloch started up. She let go almost instantly. Gairloch and I walked onward, the sun at our backs.
“You don't understand,” she said, after a time.
“I do understand. You're indentured to Teilsyr. He abuses you, or threatens to. You want to escape. I agree to help you, which is not a good idea because I could be hung for theft, among other things. As soon as you find out I know something about wizardry, you try to steal my horse and provisions. Then, when I try to treat the shoulder you break trying to steal from me, you throw a knife at me.”
“You make me sound awful.”
“I'm not trying to make you sound any way. You make it hard on me.” I paused. “Can you get down? It's your turn to walk, at least for a little.”
She let me help her down. She couldn't conceal the wince. “I'm cold.”
I unstrapped the waterproof from the bedroll and fastened it around her much like a cloak. After standing like a statue until I stepped away, she continued to stare at me as I mounted Gairloch. I had to slow Gairloch because she didn't walk that fast, but I needed a little rest, too.
After another kay or so, round another turn, I heard hoofs and the creaking of a wagon. A bearded man drove the wagon, half laden with what appeared to be cabbages and potatoes, past us without even looking in our direction.
“Friendly fellow.”
“The men here are all like that. Did you expect him to smile and wave?” asked the redhead.
I think I had.
We kept alternating riding and walking, except I walked more than I rode, a lot more, and I had to hold the reins when Alasia rode, not to keep her from riding away, but to keep Gairloch from bucking her off.
Before mid-morning, we came to another stream through the woods. There was an open grass spot, and the remnants of a campfire. Alasia sat on a stump and watched me. I pulled out some cheese and biscuits, and let Gairloch drink and graze.
I didn't even ask Alasia, just set two wedges of cheese and some biscuits by her. She ate them quickly, leaving no crumbs, and I ate two myself.
“Would you like another?” I asked.
“Yes.”
I cut her two more, but she still wouldn't look directly at me.
“What are you going to do?” she finally asked.
“With you? I wanted to help you-that's all. So, I'll get you on the road to Telsen, and let you find your own way home, or wherever it is you want to go.” I sighed. I couldn't just do that. “And I'll give you a couple of silvers to help, but I'm not going that way.”
“You still don't understand.”
“Probably not.” I ate another thin slice of the cheese and handed one to her.
“What did you do with my knife?” She swallowed the cheese in two quick bites.
“Left it where you threw it, I think.”
“You idiot. That was Teilsyr's. It was worth something. What am I supposed to use for protection?”
“You're probably better without it, then. At least they couldn't hang you for theft if they catch you.”
“Hanging would be fine. Teilsyr wouldn't be that kind. Not after what I saw him do to Rirla.”
“I said I was sorry. I never intended to hurt you.” I still felt guilty. While I didn't like Teilsyr at all and could understand Alasia's need to escape, I hadn't done anything-except put her to sleep. And I'd even warned her, but I felt guilty because she'd been hurt.
I brushed the few crumbs off my fingers and looked at the sun and then in the direction of the Lower Easthorns. All I saw was tree-covered hills. “Get some water to drink. Wash up. Whatever. We need to keep moving.”
“You don't understand,” she repeated.
I never did understand, except that she thought that most men and wizards were never to be trusted.
I hoped that wasn't true, but it bothered me even as I watched her walk down the road toward Telsen late that afternoon. I'd called, “Good luck,” but she hadn't looked back.
I'd let her keep not only the shirt, but the waterproof, and some of the cheese and biscuits-and I'd given her two silvers and some coppers.
She just walked toward Telsen, slowly, and she didn't look back once. I finally nudged Gairloch forward and toward Arastia.
What could I say? I'd gotten her free of Teilsyr, and she seemed to think that it was almost her due, as though it were my duty. Alasia wasn't chaos-touched, but, abused as she might have been, I still didn't think she had the right to try to steal everything she could. I wasn't Teilsyr, not even close.
My arm still hurt, and my head ached, and I wondered why I'd even considered traveling such a roundabout way to investigate Gerlis and his magical fires. All I had discovered so far was that sword wounds didn't heal all that quickly, even with order-mastery, and that not everyone liked Duke Berfir, and even fewer liked Kyphros and Kyphrans in general-or wizards. I'd needed to travel for an eight-day to discover that?