Burning Bright (12 page)

Leaving the path was the definition of stupid. He knew that, but he could not hold his feet still and felt helpless as he plunged into the dark forest following a feeling he did not understand.

Perhaps it was the mountains, he thought. All manner of stories surrounded the Jagged Mountains, none of them pleasant. Maybe he was being pulled in by one of the legendary monsters, the black beasts that moved like shadows brought to life. Raz made a face, tried to be scornful, but mostly he just felt afraid as he walked deeper and deeper into the dark forest.

It did not occur to him that he should not have been able to see until he abruptly tumbled out of the woods and into an enormous clearing where the moonlight once more shone brightly.

Raz stared, not quite believing what he was seeing. A manor—well, the ruins of what had clearly been a manor. His skin prickled again, and as much as he wished otherwise he knew it wasn't the cold air that made him shiver. Raz hugged himself, trying in vain to ward off the chill that seemed to work from the inside out.

What was this place? Why did it seem to be ... drenched in sadness was the best way he could think to put it, as stupid as that sounded even in his own head. He wanted to turn and leave, but his feet continued to drag him helplessly forward, over the nearest bit of broken wall and into the house itself.

As he walked, images flitted through his mind like glimpses of fish in deep water where the sun struck their scales. A splash of red and gold that seemed to be fabric:  An elaborate marble fireplace; a window that looked out over a garden; a dim hallway lit only by a single candle set in a sconce on the wall; a room filled with books; an empty kitchen; a stone path that wended through an elaborate garden; a tree—

Raz stopped abruptly as he came out of the strange collection of images and realized that he stood before the tree in his mind. Well, what was left of it. He could barely tell it was the same tree.

The tree in his mind had been lush with life, vivid green leaves spreading out in all directions and reaching up toward the sky, branches heavy with apples that looked as though they were carved from real gold.  Raz reached out, seeing that tree in his mind, remembering the taste of the apples, sweet and tart, the juice sticky on his fingers and chin.

His fingers hit only stone, jarring him from the memory, and he stared in brief confusion at the petrified remains of the apple tree and the barren branches with no sign of life left in them. He shook his head, trying to reorient himself. Swallowing, he rested his hands on the trunk of the tree and leaned his head against it, closing his eyes against emotions that made his chest ache, fought against what could only have been memories.

Some people claimed to be able to remember their past lives. It was, of course, better that no one did, for how could anyone move forward with a new life while still clinging to the past? But some people simply could not let the memories go, and in every life they remembered their previous lives. Was that what he was doing? Reliving the memories of …

Even thinking it seemed blasphemous. If he was the last Vessel, then he only carried one very small piece of Zhar Ptitsa's soul. There was no way he was truly recalling the memories of a god. But what else could they be?

The sound of movement in the woods made Raz whip around, crouch, and reach for his dagger, tense to spring—

And then he saw Shio come slinking out of the woods, the moonlight making her pale skin seem almost to glow. Beside her was Ivan, and Raz relaxed slightly. Letting go of his dagger, he stood up and waited while they slowly made their way over to him.

"What is this place?" Ivan asked. "It looks like a lord's manor, but these lands fall under the Duke of Vaklov, the Minister of Magic, and his home is some hours southeast of the village."

Raz shrugged, not willing to divulge that he thought it might have belonged to Holy Zhar Ptitsa himself once upon a time. "I don't know. What are you doing here, Ivan?"

"Bad news," Ivan said. "A couple of days ago I went to meet someone about a job. He wanted me to find the latest Vessel, kidnap him, and take him to my client—"

"No!" Raz said, panic bursting through him. He stepped back, gauging how best to get past them, and tensed when Shio abruptly lunged forward and grabbed his arms. "You can't take Pechal, I won't let you," he said desperately.

"Bank your flames," Ivan said irritably. "Fire and ash, I'm not going to turn Pechal over to some scorching lord who, when I refused, placed a death curse on me."

Raz stared, barely noticing when Shio let him go. "He did what?"

Ivan pulled at the laces of his shirt, drew the front apart, and displayed what looked like a particularly morbid tattoo of a bird skeleton.

"Basilisk's Kiss," Raz whispered. "Seven days of death."

"How could you possibly know that?" Ivan demanded.

Raz jumped and looked at him. "Know what?"

"That it'll take me seven days to die. I haven't told anyone that part."

"I—I don't know," Raz said. "So why are you here if you're not going to take Pechal?"

Ivan closed his shirt again, still eyeing him warily, but slowly said, "We came to warn you; it seemed the least I could do. I also wanted to let you know that we've found the comb, and it should be an easy steal—for you, anyway. We couldn't do it; the scorching thing is locked up tight in the bedchamber of the Minister of Magic at his private home in the Heart, right smack in the middle of the Noble District. Do you still want to do the job?"

Raz nodded and swallowed, the taste of hope equal parts sweet and bitter. "Yes, of course. I'll go at once. Bedroom steals aren't actually as difficult as most think." Talking about a job almost made him feel as if everything was all right, as if it would all work out. He clung to that thin hope and prayed for it to hold.

"The Minster of Magic," Raz repeated thoughtfully, remembering the arrogant looking man on his horse watching loftily as the workers of the Sword and Sorcerer were dragged out into the street, arrested, and hauled off to be hanged. "A man like that would keep all possessions of real value in or near his bed. Men like that also either sleep heavily, or drug themselves to sleep."

He worried his bottom lip as he tried to figure out what he was supposed to do with Pechal. Normally, they worked as a team. Pechal was the one with a real talent for ferreting out information; he could sweet talk wood into lighting itself. Before he had teamed up with Pechal, Raz's thieving career had been far less stable.

He could certainly do it without Pechal, he had enough information to be going on with, but that still left the problem of how to keep Pechal safe while he did the job since he absolutely could not take Pechal with him. Not in his current state, and Raz had no idea when he might come out of the fog in which he was lost.

"When will you head back?" Ivan asked.

"Tonight," Raz said. "I'm not tired any way, and time is of the essence. How are you going to break that curse, Ivan?"

Ivan grimaced and sounded almost petulant when he replied, "I'm trying to get in contact with Sasha. There's no one else I can think of on the streets who might know how to break it, or how I can reach the people who can." He pressed a hand to his chest, grimacing again. "I don't know what else to do, unfortunately. I have four days left."

Raz's mouth tightened, hands balling into fists at his side. "You don't know why the scorching bastard wants Pechal so bad?"

"My impression is that he does not want him going to the Sacred Fires. Why, I couldn't say, but that seems his goal. Definitely a lord, but that doesn't really do us much good."

"Are you headed back to the Heart, then, too?" Raz asked. Ivan nodded. "Would you take care of Pechal for me? I can travel faster without him, and he's in no state to help with the job. If you can watch him and get him back to the Heart for me, I can work that much faster." Ivan hesitated, and while Raz could understand why he wanted no part of hiding a Vessel and interfering with the sacrifice, it made him bitterly angry all the same.  "Please, Ivan. I don't—I can't let him die. Please. You can take Sasha's fee out of my pay—"

"Oh, scorch off," Ivan said. "I'm not a complete bastard. I'll take care of him, all right? I don't like the sacrifices any more than the next person. We'll leave first light, take him back to the Heart, and hide him in the docks so you can leave that much faster."

Raz slumped, eyes burning with relief and that bittersweet hope again. It had to work, it just had to. He just wished they could leave immediately instead of doing one more scorching job, but it was the easiest way. That, and he owed Ivan now for coming to warn him—for that curse on his chest. He'd do the job, secure passage, and then he and Pechal could leave. "Then I am leaving."

"This place gives me the chills," Ivan said, looking up at the petrified tree. "How did it turn to stone like that? Nothing else around here is like that, and it's right in the middle of the scorching house. Creepy."

Reaching out, Raz ran his fingers along the trunk of the stone tree. "It's not actually in the house, but a walled garden at the back. This was an apple tree, once. I don't know why it petrified, but I would guess magic."

"How do you know that?" Ivan demanded.

"Memories," Raz whispered, and letting his hand fall, walked away.

Back at the inn, Ivan's men sat huddled in a shadowy bunch in front of it, their horses tethered nearby while they made quick work of food and drink. They lifted their hands in greeting, but did not speak as Raz and the others approached them. Raz watched in amusement while they communicated with Ivan by way of hand signals. Pechal had understood some of them, but Raz had never quite managed to learn the mercenary cant.

He slipped past them into the inn and up the stairs to the room he shared with Pechal. The room had six beds in total with very little space between them. Shinju stood by the window where Raz had been earlier. Pechal still slept in his own bed, his blankets once more tangled around him. Raz patiently unwound them again, smoothed them out over him, and combed out the tussled hair.

His plan had been to wake Pechal and tell him what was going on, but he suddenly was loathe to do it. Waking Pechal to say goodbye seemed to final, and their parting wasn't final. He would be back soon.

Instead he just tucked the blankets firmly around him and pressed a kiss to Pechal's cheek. "Fire warm your hearth and light your path," he whispered. "I'll see you again soon, Pechal."

Rising to his full height, Raz went to his own bed and gathered up his things, slinging his satchel over his head to fall across his chest. Shinju approached him. "Raz—" She hesitated, and then said, "Be careful."

Raz wondered what she had really meant to say, and why she hadn't said it. "I don't know why you and your sister are helping us, but it's appreciated, Shinju. I hope someday I can repay it and that helping us does not get you into trouble."

Shinju laughed, sounding a bit unsteady. "You're sweet, Raz. Too sweet, I think. You've been kind to us since we met you back when we knew almost nothing about Pozhar. This place is nothing like home, but you and Pechal made it more bearable. I wish … well, I hope everything goes the way you want, in the end."

"Thanks," Raz said, though he still felt as if he was missing something. "You will take care of him, for me? I don't like to leave him, but no one will just give me that kind of money and now Ivan's cursed because of us—" His voice cracked, and he balled his hands into fists.

He startled when Shinju embraced him, but then relaxed into it, surprised as always at how much she smelled like the ocean. He'd known other people from Kundou, fires he'd slept with a few of them, but they had never smelled like Shio and Shinju. "Be careful, Raz," she said as she drew back and kissed him on the mouth. "We'll see you again soon."

Raz nodded and pulled away, stomach full of rocks as he left Pechal sleeping. A couple of days and they'd be reunited on a ship sailing toward Piedre. They could elude the Vessel hunters for a few more days.

So why did it feel like he was saying goodbye?

Ignoring his pessimistic thoughts, Raz went downstairs, left coin for the innkeeper, and slipped outside to where Ivan and his men were still clustered around the front. He wasn't surprised to see that his horse had been readied while he was upstairs. "Thanks," he said and climbed clumsily up into the saddle. "Shall we meet tomorrow night at the Incoming Tide at the final bell?"

"We'll be there," Ivan said. "Be careful, Raz. The Minister of Magic is no one to trifle with; he's sent more than a few to the noose, and everyone's been on edge since you nearly leveled Ashes."

Raz nodded. "I'll be careful, but everyone on edge should work to my favor. For one, it means he'll be at the palace or out in the streets and not at home. His grace will have … " He trailed off when he realized belatedly that he had not seen Ailill. "Where is his grace?"

"He stayed in the city in case Sasha got back in touch with us," Ivan said. "All of this … he has to be careful. If it's found out that a White Beast of Verde is interfering in the sacrifices it would not go well for relations between our nations. I do not want to know what would happen to all of us then."

"Good point," Raz muttered. "Tomorrow night, then, at the Incoming Tide. Protect him, Ivan. "

"We will, I promise," Ivan said.

Raz nodded and heeled his horse into motion, ignoring the churning in his stomach that said he was making a mistake.

Ivan watched Raz until he could no longer see him, then dropped his folded arms and sighed. "How in the Fires did we get tangled up in such a mess?"

Around him, the men sighed and grumbled. "Do you really think they'll be able to get away, boss?" Gleb asked. "I feel bad for the poor little sparks. Almost want to just give them the scorching money and see them off. Raz and Pechal were always a good sort, unlike the rest of us."

"No, they never really were like the rest of us," Ivan agreed quietly, ignoring his own nagging guilt. He was already doing too much and had wasted too much time—would be wasting even more just getting Pechal back to the Heart and babysitting him. He just hoped that when they got there somebody would be able to break his curse. He started to reach up to rub at his chest again, but caught himself and resisted. His men did not need to see him worrying. "Come on, we need to get some sleep, give the horses a chance to rest. We'll head out at dawn. Luka, you're riding with Pechal. If something happens, get him back to the Heart as best you can, but don't die doing it."