Path of Fate (18 page)

Kaval. She had been trying not to think about him. She had daydreamed of a future with him. But now . . . Tears burned her eyes and she retreated to the other side of the deck so that no one would see. Her fingers found the scarf he’d given her in her pocket and she caressed the smooth material between rigid fingers. She hadn’t had a chance to say good-bye, but as much as she missed him already, she couldn’t regret it. She didn’t want to see his face when he discovered she was
ahaladkaaslane
. When he learned she’d deceived him and the town both, that she’d refused the Lady’s gift.

Biting her lips and swallowing her pain, she forced her mind from Kaval. Later she would grieve.

She turned around and examined the other man accompanying Kebonsat. He had red hair with streaks of gray fastened at the base of his neck. His close-cropped beard bristled gray with streaks of red along his chin. He had wide shoulders and a thickened waist, though he moved with a kind of innate stealth. He was shorter than Kebonsat by half a head and his pale blue eyes darted back and forth, seeing everything. He wore well-seasoned leathers, a sword and knife on his left hip and a wickedly hooked lohar, like a tiny scythe, fastened on his right, a longbow over his shoulder.

“Well met,” Voli hailed with a flourishing bow. Reisil smiled. Sober and on the water, the man was a rogue. “Come aboard. Stow your gear. Keep out of the way, if y’please. Managed a bit of a cargo in the wee hours. That Rikutud is a hard bargainer. M’boys are getting it settled. Businessman, you know. Have to find a profit in every venture. Ah! The stragglers.” He glanced at the brilliantly lit dawn sky. “Punctual.” He said the word as if it offended him, as if punctuality meant idleness and sloth.

Voli greeted Upsakes gaily. Upsakes wore a new cloak of heavy wool, the weirmart back in its usual place on his shoulder. Behind him came Sodur, who, in contrast to Upsakes, looked already travel-worn. He wore an oft-patched cloak, its ragged hem hardly reaching his knees. His boots were scuffed, the heels worn low. As usual he looked hungry, his thin, crooked nose dripping in the chilly morning.

“By midday it will be sweltering and we’ll make a holiday feast for the mosquitoes,” declared Voli. Sodur eyed him darkly, his lynx twining against his legs. Voli was uncowed.

“This all of us then? I’ll cast off then, shall I?”

“There’s one more. He’ll be along shortly.”

“We don’t have time to wait,” Kebonsat declared.

“Just a few moments,” Upsakes said. “That won’t make much difference. Ah, here he comes now.” He waved his arm and the trotting figure began to run in earnest.

Reisil’s stomach sank. Juhrnus. Puffs of dust rose with every pounding step and he hardly paused as he leaped aboard, out of breath, his sisalik nearly strangling him with its tail as it clung to him for balance. He slung his kit into the waiting box and nodded greeting to Upsakes.

“My apologies, Kaj Kebonsat.” Upsakes said. “It occurred to me in the last moment that Juhrnus might be an important addition to our mission. His sisalik can move quietly and quickly in water and sees in the dark. I did not want to lose any advantage in rescuing the Dajam Ceriba.”

Juhrnus stroked his fingers over the sisalik’s head and glanced around. He did not seem surprised to see Reisil, but for once said nothing derogatory. Instead he gave her a cold look and turned his back. That suited her fine. Maybe now that she was
ahalad-kaaslane,
he would cease to torment her. Or she’d have Saljane eat that sisalik for breakfast.

She turned to face the river, feeling it catch the trading barge in its grip as the crew cast off. The wooded bank opposite retreated behind them. Her throat knotted as they floated away from her home, her life as a tark.

“Bright morning.” Kebonsat settled in beside her, forearms on the railing. He had tanned, callused hands with long fingers and a sprinkling of dark hair. He stared at the water. “What news of my sister?” he asked urgently, his hands curling into fists.

~
Saljane.

~Ahalad-kaaslane.

~
What chances?

The bird swept her away. She gripped the railing, closing her eyes against the doubled vision. Saljane remained in the tree. Below, the kidnappers broke camp. One prodded Ceriba to mount. She fought him, jerking out of his hands. He grappled her and shoved her to the ground. She kicked out but he dodged and his boot thudded into her ribs. Reisil cried out in shock. Another man approached and pulled the first one away, lofting Ceriba into the saddle like a sack of onions. He tied her hands and feet, though she listed to the side, obviously in great pain.

The forest floor was so gloomy that Reisil couldn’t make out more than blurry gray patches for faces, hard as she tried to pick them out. Without warning, Saljane leaped from her perch with a stomachchurning lurch and Reisil retched over the rail. Saljane glided between the boles, coming to a rest on the opposite edge of the clearing. Now Reisil could see better and hear. Ceriba’s captors were mostly silent and the morning stillness was broken only by Ceriba’s sobs, the sounds of jingling bridles and the snorting and sneezing of the horses. Her six captors mounted, leading Ceriba toward Saljane’s perch.

Reisil did not recognize the first man. He was middle-aged, with a hard-bitten face. A scar twisted from his left eye up into his hairline. Behind him . . . Reisil knew him, though not by name. Only a handful of years older than she, he was a journeyman wheelwright from Kallas. He was also the man who’d kicked Ceriba. Behind him came a stranger leading Ceriba’s horse, then Ceriba. The next man had a thick paunch, red cheeks and steel-gray hair. Reisil didn’t see who came after. Saljane skipped past to the last, snapping her beak. A black pit gaped in Reisil’s chest and she willed it not to be.

But it was.

Kaval.

R
eisil gave a sharp cry and staggered back from the railing, fist pressed to her lips. The connection with Saljane ruptured as her mind ricocheted from Kaval’s treachery.
What has he done?
Bile crawled up onto her tongue and she swallowed it down, feeling hands grasping her.

“What’s happened?” demanded Upsakes, and Reisil heard venom threading his voice. Justified, she thought. Because she refused the Lady’s gift.

She opened her mouth, not knowing what to say. Upsakes held one arm while Kebonsat steadied her with the other. The two men glared at each other and Reisil could feel their animosity like heat from tall-burning flames. She forced herself to give a dry chuckle, a sound that tore at her constricted throat.

“It’s nothing, Upsakes. I should not bond with Saljane when she’s flying and I am rocking on a boat. Makes me green.”

She felt Kebonsat’s fingers tightening on her elbow and she glared at him meaningfully, not wanting to reveal what she’d seen to Upsakes. Kebonsat was the only one she could really trust. He loved his sister and could not be involved in her kidnapping. The others—She bit her tongue, tasting blood. If Kaval could have done it, then any one of them could have too.

Much to her relief, Kebonsat did not challenge her story. He merely helped settle her onto the deck, offering her a flask of water, which she gulped.

“Proper training would benefit you,” Upsakes declared, standing above her. The sun blazed brilliantly behind him and she could not see his face in the shadow. “One does not learn to be
ahalad-kaaslane
overnight.”

Heat flooded Reisil’s cheeks and she bent her head down. Overnight. If she’d accepted Saljane from the first, she’d have had two weeks to acquaint herself with being
ahalad-kaaslane
. If she hadn’t fought her fate, would she have such debilitating reactions to Saljane’s flights?

“At least she found my sister instead of wasting time on a useless search,” Kebonsat retorted.

“Yes. We are grateful that she did that much,” Upsakes said, stroking his weirmart’s head. “As the only
ahalad-kaaslane
in Kallas with a bird companion, it was lucky she decided to help.”

Reisil cringed from the acid in his voice. Upsakes waited another moment, then retreated back along the deck to where Juhrnus watched with a sneer. Kebonsat crouched down beside her. The sun was growing hot and sweat dampened her tunic. She pulled off her cloak, letting it puddle around her hips.

“What does he mean,
lucky
you decided to help?”

Reisil licked her lips, avoiding Kebonsat’s brooding stare, trying to decide what to tell him. Somehow she didn’t want him to know how much of a coward she had been—continued to be, she thought, scornful of herself. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to be home, tending her raspberries, pulling weeds out of her carrots and stewing pungent magga root against winter need. Not here, with these grim-faced men with blood in their eyes and hate on their tongues.

“He thinks that I was hiding being
ahalad-kaaslane,
” she said finally in a tissue-thin voice.

“Hiding? Why? To aid in the kidnapping?”

Reisil stiffened, meeting the sudden cruelty in his voice with shocked horror.

“No! Never! Any brute who would do such a thing—” She broke off, remembering Kaval.

“What?” prodded Kebonsat, suspicion still coloring his voice.

Reisil swallowed. What had Nurema and Leidiik told her? Patriotism. Kaval thought of himself as a patriot. Her throat burned. He might call it that. But he had stolen an innocent girl from her family, bloodied and bruised her, maybe even planned to kill her, if Leidiik was right. That wasn’t patriotism, wasn’t love for Kodu Riik. That was not justifiable. Not forgivable. So why did her mind and heart keep crying out for him to hold her, to smile that lopsided grin and reassure her that everything was all right, that he hadn’t really done it, that there was a reasonable explanation?

She remembered his reaction when she told him of the treaty and felt a tearing grief building in her chest. She caught her breath against the pain.
This must be akin to what Kebonsat feels,
she thought. She gripped his hand, tears slipping down her cheeks.

“I am so sorry. He’s right. If I’d accepted Saljane, if I hadn’t fought so hard not to be
ahalad-kaaslane,
I would have been able to help sooner.”

Kebonsat looked startled, his strong, callused hand clenching on hers.

“I don’t understand.”

Reisil’s breath jerked in her chest and she pressed her other hand to her lips and closed her eyes. Finally she pulled it away and gave Kebonsat an unsteady smile. She glanced past Kebonsat and saw Upsakes glowering at them. She dropped his hand. “Now isn’t really a good time to talk about it. I do have to talk to you, but—” She broke off.

“But?”

“You love Ceriba. I know you wouldn’t have done this to her.”

Kebonsat’s eyes turned flat black and Reisil heard his teeth grind together.

“What are you saying?”

Reisil licked her lips. “Just that I am sure you didn’t have anything to do with this.”

“And you think someone here might have?” Rage kindled in his expression.

“I’m new to being
ahalad-kaaslane
. And I don’t understand much about what I am supposed to be,” she said. “And neither do I know much about intrigue or politics. I am just a tark.” Her voice cracked. She swallowed. “But even so, I can’t believe the men in the forest are working alone. Not that you can trust me.” She thought about Leidiik’s words to her and found them on her tongue. “I know what I’ve been up to, but you don’t. I could always be lying.”

Something that she could only call fear rippled over his face and was gone. Somewhere, men were taking his sister farther away.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have told you she was all right. Though she keeps fighting back and they don’t like it.”

Kebonsat’s face went red, then white, and he swore low, bitter, sharp-edged curses.

“She’s never had the sense to know when to be still,” he said.

“She’s brave,” Reisil replied. “I wish I had such courage.”

“I wish she had less.”

“No, you don’t. She must know you’ll come for her, and she’ll start planning for it. She’ll stop antagonizing them and start making a strategy.” Reisil spoke confidently, sure of Ceriba. She hardly knew the other woman, but tarks were taught to read people, to know them.

So why didn’t you know about Kaval?
a niggling voice accused her. She remembered what Leidiik had said:
That’s the reason why the
ahalad-kaaslane
don’t get to call any place home. Can’t afford to get too attached to anyone.
Had her feelings for Kaval so colored her judgment that she could not see the traitor lurking within?

“Your pardon, but may I speak to Reisil a moment?”

Despite his pinched, hungry appearance, Sodur wore an expression of quiet comfort, and Reisil found herself nodding. Kebonsat rose and returned to the company of Glevs and the other Patversemese man.

Sodur sat cross-legged beside Reisil, turning to watch the flow of the water, his lynx curling up with his square head on his
ahalad-kaaslane
’s knee, tufted ears swiveling. A low purr rumbled from deep in his silvery belly.

“Bright morning,” Sodur said, wiping the drip from his nose with a dirty handkerchief. Reisil returned the greeting, unable to read much from his profile.

“You pose something of a problem on this journey,” he began without preamble. “We will depend on you to be our guide, but you have not had any training, and the bond with your
ahalad-kaaslane
is weak yet—I suspect even damaged.” He paused and Reisil swallowed heavily. He stroked the lynx’s ears and the purr intensified. “Such a crisis is not the best way to solidify the
ahalad-kaaslane
connection. How does your Saljane respond to you?”

“I don’t know,” Reisil mumbled. “How is she supposed to?”

Sodur chuckled and patted her leg, speaking in his quiet, kind way. “Indeed. Most
ahalad-kaaslane
animals live as long as their human counterparts. I’ve heard of rare occasions when the animal dies, the Blessed Lady sends another in its place. But most often not. I could not imagine losing my Lume. I would not survive his loss, I think. If I did, I would not wish a replacement. But that is not of importance now. I have no experience with any but Lume. I cannot tell you how Saljane is supposed to respond. Do you think it is a good bond?”