Mist-Torn Witches 02:Witches in Red (7 page)

For all his strength, Amelie suspected Jaromir was capable of being gentle, and he proved her right in the next few moments as Céline held Pavel’s leg below the broken section and Jaromir took his time inching the boot off bit by small bit.

Céline took a deep breath once it came away from Pavel’s foot in Jaromir’s hand.

“All right,” she said. “Now I need to cut off the rest of this pant leg and then set the bone.”

“Have you done this before?” Jaromir asked, his voice tight.

“Yes, many times. My mother taught me how to set everything from broken bones to dislocated shoulders.”

That seemed good enough for him, because he fell silent and let her work. She glanced up at Pavel to make certain he was out cold; then, with a scraping sound, she set the broken shinbone until the parts lined up perfectly and the leg was straight. After that, she quickly but carefully dabbed the jagged wounds around the bone with a cleansing and healing ointment made from adder’s-tongue. Then she splinted his shin with the narrow boards and began the slow process of wrapping them tightly with strips of bandages.

This took some time.

Wiping her head with the back of her hand, she finally said, “All right. That’s all I can do. The bone is secure, and it should knit. But he cannot travel until he
wakes, and even then, we’ll need to make a space for him in the back of the wagon, so he can sit up with the leg straight. He can’t put any weight on it for weeks. Once he’s back home, he should be able to use crutches as long as he keeps his weight off.” Looking up at Jaromir, she hesitated. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to choose another man to remain with us in Ryazan.”

To Amelie’s puzzlement, a flash of relief crossed Jaromir’s face, as if a burden had suddenly been taken from him.

“Yes, of course.” He stood up. “We’ll make camp here and see if he’s fit to travel in the morning.”

Amelie raised an eyebrow. Why would Jaromir be relieved that Pavel couldn’t remain with them in Ryazan?

* * *

The following day, at midmorning, Céline pronounced Pavel fit to travel, and she supervised as Rurik, Jaromir, and Bazin lifted her patient into a cleared space in the wagon’s bed.

“Don’t try to help us,” Rurik told Pavel. “Just let us do the work.”

Once they had him settled, they leaned him against a large rolled-up piece of canvas, and he glanced down at his splinted leg. Céline had no idea how he was feeling. His expression was dark, and she guessed he was probably torn between gratitude that his leg had been saved and angry disappointment that he’d lost his place on the mission.

“Remember what I said about not putting weight on it,” she told him, playing the part of the healer to avoid
speaking of anything else. “The bone must be allowed to knit.”

He didn’t answer and didn’t look at her.

She turned to Jaromir. “I think it’s safe for him if we press onward.”

Jaromir exhaled through his nose, as if considering something, and then he stood up in the back of the wagon. “Everyone,” he called out, “over here.”

Faster than Céline would have expected, all the men had gathered round. Amelie was among them, looking up at Jaromir curiously.

“Ryazan is not far up this road,” he began, pointing north. “Guardsman Rurik will stay with me, but I’m sending the rest of you back now.” Turning his body slightly, he motioned down a wide, well-maintained road to the east. “I don’t want you crossing the river again, so head east and use the bridge up above Enêmûsk.” He handed the map to Bazin. “Then head straight home and make sure Pavel stays off his leg.”

Almost everyone nodded in agreement . . . all except for Guardsman Rurik, who was aghast.

“Me?” he asked. “Sir? Shouldn’t you choose someone else?”

Jaromir wasn’t accustomed to having his orders questioned. “Guardsman?”

“What if Prince Anton needs a message sent to his father?” Rurik rushed on.

Jaromir’s jaw twitched. “He can send someone else.” His voice held an edge of threat, and Rurik fell silent, but he looked shaken.

Céline wondered why. She’d found him to be a good
choice on Jaromir’s part. Rurik might not be as strong a fighter as Pavel, but he was steady and of a cheerful disposition, and on this task, those two qualities might be of more use. Why was he reluctant to stay? Had he heard any hints about what she and Amelie had come here to do? Even so, he was a soldier and didn’t strike her as someone easily frightened.

“Guardsman Voulter,” Jaromir said. “Tie the women’s travel bags onto one of the extra horses.” He continued giving orders in preparation for them to separate from the group, but Céline stopped listening.

She turned and gazed up the road to the north, forgetting about Rurik’s strange reluctance and Pavel’s broken leg.

Ryazan waited.

B
y midday, the already narrow road had turned into little more than a path, but when Jaromir saw a clearing up ahead, he knew they’d arrived at their destination. As his horse broke through the tree line, he had no idea what to expect.

But . . . he had anticipated at least seeing a number of small buildings. From what he understood, Prince Lieven had had men stationed here for five years.

“Tents?” Amelie asked in equal puzzlement, pulling her horse up beside his.

Six enormous tents and numerous smaller ones were the only dwellings in sight. Behind the tents stood a large, makeshift wooden barn, but it appeared to be the only permanent construction.

Several soldiers in dark brown tabards—and carrying spears—turned their way, but they all froze as Céline rode up beside her sister and then Rurik brought up the rear.

Jaromir raised a hand in greeting. No one responded, and the soldiers milling among the tents stood staring at Amelie and Céline. These men appeared unwashed
and on edge, with tight, anxious expressions. Following his instincts, Jaromir decided not to advance until someone approached him.

Finally, an overweight guard came walking over, gripping his spear but holding the point straight up.

“You lost?” he asked.

Two other guards came up behind him, looking even more unkempt up close. One was young, maybe seventeen, with long tangled hair and mismatched eyes: one blue, one brown. He appeared more skittish than edgy. His companion was a little older and taller, with two missing front teeth. The younger one hid halfway behind him, as if seeking protection.

But all three men continued to stare at Amelie and Céline.

Jaromir tensed at the complete lack of military discipline, and he pitched his tone to cold, angry authority. “I am Lieutenant Jaromir of Castle Sèone. We’ve been sent at the request of Prince Lieven. I would speak with Captain Keegan.”

There was still a soldier inside the rotund guard directly in front of him, because the man winced, as if remembering something forgotten. Then he straightened and touched his chest. “Guardsman Saunders, sir.” He pointed first to the youth behind him and then to the other man. “Guardsmen Graham and Ramsey.”

“Where is your captain?” Jaromir asked.

Saunders turned around. “This way, sir.”

Remaining mounted, Jaromir nodded to Amelie and then followed Guardsman Saunders through the tents. Many of the temporary shelters they passed looked
years old, with patches and untended holes. It wasn’t raining, but the sky was overcast and gray, adding to the dismal quality of their surroundings. Saunders led them toward the back of the encampment to the second- largest of the tents—the size of a small house—only this one appeared newer than the others.

Jaromir dismounted and turned to help Amelie off her horse. She looked at his outstretched hands and seemed about to push them away, but he shook his head once, hoping she’d have the sense to play her part. Thankfully, she seemed to realize this as well and let him lift her down. Rurik was on the ground, doing the same for Céline.

“Announce us and then see to our horses,” Jaromir ordered.

Saunders stuck his head inside the open front flap of the tent. “Captain, visitors here to see you . . . from Castle Sèone.”

Without waiting for an invitation, Jaromir walked past him, inside, motioning to his companions to follow. After the shabby visage of the camp outside, he was somewhat taken aback by the luxury now surrounding him. The floor was covered in thick furs. Tapestries hanging from the ceiling had been tastefully arranged to create partitions. There was a long polished table with six wooden chairs in the center of the main area, decorated with silver candlesticks. Looking through the partitions toward the rear, he could see a round, stone-bordered fire pit with a ventilation hole up above, so this tent could be kept warm when necessary.

At present, the tent held only two occupants, both men in chain armor and dark brown tabards. Jaromir pegged Captain Keegan right away, but only by virtue of his age. Keegan was of medium height, with a stocky, muscular build that was just now going to fat. His hair had gone gray, and he wore a close-trimmed beard that completely covered the lower half of his face.

The other man was in his late twenties, tall, well built, and clean-shaven, with sandy-colored hair and light blue eyes.

Keegan immediately bristled at the visitors walking into his tent. “What is this?” he barked.

Again, Jaromir hesitated. Had all semblance of military professionalism broken down here?

“Lieutenant Jaromir,” he answered stiffly, “of Castle Sèone.” He held one hand toward the women. “May I present the ladies Céline and Amelie Fawe of Prince Anton’s court?”

As with Saunders, his manner had an immediate effect, and both men came to attention but seemed at a loss for words.

Céline smiled. “Forgive our appearance, Captain. We have been traveling for days.”

This had an even more rapid effect than Jaromir’s words, and both Keegan and his companion hurried to the table, pulling out chairs. “Ladies, please,” Keegan said, “come and sit.”

Saunders was gone now, and Rurik stood in the doorway. “You’re dismissed,” Jaromir told him quietly. “Make sure the horses are cared for.”

“Yes, sir.”

Keegan was pouring wine for Amelie and Céline, who were seated at the table, and he motioned to the tall, sandy-haired man. “This is Corporal Quinn. He is my current second-in-command.” Glancing back at Jaromir, he asked, “You were sent by Prince Anton?”

“Via his father, to offer our assistance,” Jaromir answered, stepping forward and pulling two letters from inside the quilted shirt beneath his armor. “The first is a letter from Prince Lieven to my lord, and the second is a letter from my lord to you.”

He and Anton had decided to hold nothing back and allow Keegan full access to all pertinent information.

With a confused frown, Keegan took the letters from him and took his time reading them both. The first one was the same letter Leonides had carried from Prince Lieven, explaining the situation and clearly asking Anton to handle the matter. The second letter was from Anton, written directly to Keegan, explaining that Céline and Amelie were seers and healers from the court of Sèone, who were to be given full cooperation. Anton blatantly stated that if Keegan wished to have the heart of this problem rooted out and solved, he must grant Céline and Amelie’s every request.

Finally, Keegan looked up and handed both letters to Corporal Quinn. But the captain seemed on the edge of strained disbelief.

“Let me understand this . . . ,” he began. “So, instead of sending a replacement for me or even reinforcements from Pählen, my prince appealed to his youngest son . . . who in turn has sent two women who claim to
be ‘seers.’” His voice was rising toward the end of this short speech.

“Your prince already sent reinforcements once,” Jaromir answered. “They were no help.”

“Please, Captain,” Céline said. “I know how this must seem, but Prince Anton had a similar, seemingly unsolvable . . . problem in the spring, and my sister and I were able to stop a series of unnatural deaths. We would not have been sent here unless your prince and mine believed we could help you.”

Corporal Quinn was listening to her with interest. He had the same haunted, exhausted look of everyone else Jaromir had encountered here so far, but the man’s light blue eyes were more alert. “Did you ride all this way with no escort?” he asked.

“No, of course not,” Jaromir answered. “We had a small contingent, but I sent them back.”

“Sent them back?” Keegan repeated. “Why?”

Again, Jaromir decided on honesty. “Because my lord thought you might feel challenged or that your authority was being threatened if I rode in with a contingent of men from Sèone under my command.”

When Keegan glanced away, it suggested that Anton’s instincts had been correct.

“My lord wishes you to understand that we are here to help,” Jaromir went on. “That is all we wish to do. And he wanted to show his confidence that he trusts you to keep these ladies safe.” The last part was a mere compliment. He would protect Amelie and Céline himself.

Keegan let out a long exhale. “If he wanted to keep them safe, he shouldn’t have sent them here at all.”

* * *

Céline listened as the men talked, but on the inside, she was trying not to panic over everything she’d seen and felt since riding in.

This was a place deserted by hope. She could see it in the faces of the men, in their shabby living conditions, in the fact that they’d long since ceased to wash or have a care for the proper manner of soldiers on duty.

Worse, the inside of this tent only increased her concerns, as it suggested their leader had cut himself off and lived apart with his thick furs and his red wine and tapestries. And still . . . the entire encampment felt so temporary, as if for years, none of the rotating groups of men stationed here had ever harbored any intention of staying long enough to put up wooden barracks.

So far, Amelie had remained silent, but Céline knew she must be just as troubled by what they’d walked into.

It was difficult to help men who appeared to view themselves as beyond help—and that’s what she was sensing.

“Forgive me,” Corporal Quinn said cautiously, looking at Céline. “But I don’t quite understand the word ‘seer.’ What is it exactly that you claim to be able to do?”

She studied him. While Captain Keegan appeared to be a man letting himself go to seed, Quinn was in his prime. He, too, had been under great strain, but unlike those of the men outside, his tabard and face were clean. He had a coiled energy about him, as if he was capable of quick action when necessary. Céline thought he might be useful if she could win his trust.

“We each have a different ability,” she answered. “I
can read a person’s future, and Amelie can read their past.”

Gulping half a goblet of wine, Captain Keegan made a loud, derisive snort, and Céline realized it was too soon to ask him to allow her to start reading his men. He would first need to understand they were not charlatans. Besides, she needed a better idea of the situation, and it seemed she was going to have to fall back on the authority that Anton had provided by sending his letter.

“Your prince mentioned that some of the workers here have been killed, but . . . where do the workers live?” she asked. “Riding in, we saw only your own encampment.”

Quinn glanced at his captain, and Keegan pulled out a chair, sitting down himself. He pointed north. “There’s a path through the trees, toward the mines. The workers live in a cleared area over there. I’ve been posting guards for them at night.”

She nodded and then steeled herself. It was time for more difficult questions.

“Captain, can you tell us . . . what exactly did you mean by reporting that your men are ‘turning into beasts’? What sort of beasts?”

A short silence followed, and this time Quinn answered.

“Like wolves, only larger, with wide chests and red eyes. It seems to happen quickly, with no warning.”

“But this is only happening to your own men,” Jaromir broke in, “not to any of the miners or their families.”

“So far, yes,” Quinn responded. “But you can’t imagine . . . these things, these wolves are savage, mad, and they start killing anything in sight within moments of the change. Not long after this started, our workers began trying to escape, and we’ve had to actually ride some of them down and bring them back.”

“Ride them down?” Amelie spoke up for the first time. “They’re not allowed to leave?”

The question appeared to baffle both Keegan and Quinn.

“Well . . . of course they’ve signed contracts,” Keegan answered. “My only duty here is to ensure the silver continues to flow. I cannot do that without enough workers.”

Céline digested this quickly. What he was describing sounded a good deal like slavery, via these “contracts.”

“How many soldiers have you lost?” she asked.

“Ten have been infected,” Quinn answered, “including one officer, Lieutenant Sullian, and we lost the tenth man only three days ago. But we’ve also lost several more of our own men who were killed by the wolves, so the captain hasn’t been able to spare anyone to carry a report to our prince about this last case.”

“Infected?” she repeated.

“Well, what else could it be?” Keegan snapped, taking another swallow of wine. “And it’s intentional. At first, I thought that one of the men had somehow . . . contracted this and it was spreading at random. But only my men have been affected. There is someone behind this.”

Céline had been coming to this conclusion as well,
but the captain seemed so certain. Did he know something he wasn’t sharing?

“Have you noticed any warning signs before the men begin to change? Or made any connections between them?”

Quinn shook his head. “I’ve only seen it happen twice, and it was sudden both times. One moment the man was fine, and then he began to retch, and then . . . we have to kill them as soon as possible.”

“Do the bodies revert back to human form once they are dead?” she asked.

Both men were taken aback by the question, and she was aware that she probably didn’t sound anything like a lady of court, but these things had to be asked.

“No,” Quinn said. “And we burn them soon after.”

“You burn the bodies of the wolves?” This was not good news. Céline wanted to examine one. “What about the miners and other soldiers who’ve been killed? Are they burned too?”

“I’ve seen no reason to enforce that,” Keegan answered. “Some of our workers are Móndyalítko, and they have their own way of doing things, and I’m certain the infection is not being spread through the bodies of dead miners.”

“Móndyalítko?”

That hardly seemed likely. From what she understood, her mother’s people were nomadic.

But neither Quinn nor Keegan responded, and she glanced at Jaromir, who so far was allowing her to run most of the questions.

“Captain,” she began, wondering how to word her next request, “it is a pity that you do not have the body of someone who has undergone this . . . change for me to examine. When it happens again, it would be best if you could incapacitate the victim for me to study.”