Path of the Sun: A Novel of Dhulyn and Parno (50 page)

Gun had rested fairly well the night before, but his nausea had returned with walking, and Mar had finally covered his eyes again, this time using the headscarf from his pack. They had been walking the better part of the day, but with the slow pace and frequent rests Gun’s condition required, they had not even reached the crevasse Bekluth Allain had told them about when noise and movement from what they now understood to be the north told them they were no longer alone. It was hard to be sure at first, but eventually Mar could tell there were five Espadryni approaching. Remembering something Parno Lionsmane had once told them, Mar and Gun had immediately put down their burdens and stood with their hands empty facing in the direction of the Horsemen. “Let them see you are no threat,” the Lionsmane had said. “Unless of course you are, in which case you should let them see that.”

“Stand steady,” Mar said as the Horsemen rode toward them with no apparent intention of stopping. “I’ll speak to them.”

“You said that already.” Mar glanced at Gun, but his momentary smile was wiped away with another grimace. He swallowed and licked his lips.

Mar turned back to face the approaching Horsemen and willed herself not to shut her eyes as all five horses came nearer and nearer without slowing down, until, in the last moment, they turned aside and rode in circles around them. The Horsemen passed so closely that her own headscarf fluttered in the breeze of their passage.

That’s meant to intimidate
, she thought.
So stay calm and unimpressed
. She glanced at each of the riders, looking for the one who would be in charge and wracking her brain for what little she knew about the Espadryni. Dhulyn Wolfshead was the only Red Horseman Mar had ever met—the only one in existence, for all anyone knew to the contrary—and while these five men all had the pale southern skin and the long, blood-red hair she associated with her Mercenary friend, they were armed strangers, and Mar had to treat them as dangerous.

And there was still, somewhere on this side of the Path, a killer, though Mar thought he was very unlikely to be one of this group. A man would need to be alone, she thought, to do what the killer had done.

All five men were dressed in leather dyed in a rainbow of colors, with their sleeveless jerkins decorated with patches of cloth and patterns of beading. Three carried spears, and two had short bows already strung and hanging easily to hand across the horns of their saddles. Except for the very long knives that each man had at his waist, Mar could see no swords. She blinked at the dust raised around her and cleared her throat as the men came to a halt. One came nearer and spoke to her, and while the words sounded familiar, they were in a language Mar did not know. Gun looked up and frowned, but when she touched his sleeve. he shook his head.

“Do you speak the common tongue?” she asked, forming her words slowly. She had hopes they would, since the trader had. “Are you Espadryni of the Cold Lake People?” she added.

“We are,” the one who was clearly the leader answered. “I am Josh-Chevrie,” he added. “We saw the burning and are come to investigate.” It was plain from his tone that he expected a similar explanation of their presence.

Mar was suddenly at a loss. How to explain who and what they were, and why they were here, when the fact that they were Scholars would mean nothing to these people? Mar had never before realized how much Scholars could rely on their distinctive blue tunics and their Library connections to give them an introduction and gain them a welcome wherever they went.

She hesitated only a moment more, pushing the scarf back away from her face and squinting up at the man on horseback. Even without Bekluth’s warning not to mention the Path of the Sun, Mar would have known to proceed carefully. Things left unsaid were not really lies, and she could always explain afterward, if the Espadryni seemed less superstitious than Bekluth had claimed. Better cautious than cursing, as the Wolfshead always said. There would be time to give the whole story, once she found Gun some help.

“I am Mar-eMar Tenebro and this is my husband, Gundaron of Valdomar,” she said. “We are looking for friends we have been told are in this area, but more immediately we are seeking help for my husband’s sudden illness. The trader Bekluth Allain told us that your shaman may be able to help us.”

“The trader sent you?” Josh-Chevrie slid down from his horse and came closer. Mar stood her ground. The man’s eyes were the same curious shade of stone gray that the Wolfshead’s were.

“Is it an injury of the eye?” he asked, reaching out to touch Gun’s bandage.

“Are you a shaman then? A Mage?” Mar asked. Though with so few Healers in the world, it made sense to send a Mage along with a scouting party.

“We are all Mages, we of the Espadryni,” Josh-Chevrie said. “If I cannot help your man, there are those more powerful at our camp.”

“It’s not the eyes exactly,” Mar said. She took Gun by the shoulder to steady him. “It’s nausea and dizziness. Gundaron’s a Finder you see and . . .” Mar’s words dried in her throat. If she hadn’t known Dhulyn Wolfshead so well, seen so often how very little of her moods and feelings showed on her face, Mar might have missed the way Josh-Chevrie’s face froze for just a split instant before it returned to his previous expression.

She looked around, but the faces on the other riders told her nothing. Somehow, she felt a tension in the air that hadn’t been there a moment before, as if they were all more watchful, though Mar wouldn’t have believed that possible. She tapped out a code against Gun’s shoulder, hoping he was not in so much misery that he missed it.

Josh-Chevrie let his hands drop and took a step back. “Marked is he?” the young Horseman said. “Are you Marked then yourself, girl?”

“No. That is, well, no.” Mar looked from one man to another. They all had the same wary hardness in their faces now, which told her this was not the time to explain that she
had
been Marked, in a way, once upon a time. Gun’s grip on her elbow warned her further.

“Step away from the Marked one, girl,” Josh said, holding his hand out to her.

“What? No. I don’t understand,” Mar said. Her grip on Gun tightened as one of the riders set an arrow to his bowstring. The Red Horsemen couldn’t possibly be prejudiced against the Marked, not when all their women were Seers. Unless that was not true here—in which case, why would Bekluth Allain make such a point of their telling the Espadryni Gun was a Finder?

Unless all were against the Marked here, which the trader would have known very well. An icy ball formed in Mar’s stomach.

“You are safe now, come away,” Josh said, beckoning her forward. “He cannot hurt you any more. Release her at once, Marked one, you cannot escape.”

Go
, Gun was signaling her, his fingers tapping rapidly on the back of the hand she had on his forearm.
Go,
he signaled again. “One of us must be free,” he muttered under his breath. Mar took a scant step away.

“I don’t want to escape,” Gun said, louder, but in the gentle, reasonable tone he would use to the youngest apprentices in the Library, those who still thought of their homes with longing. “I’m ill, I’m no danger to anyone. As you can see, I can barely stand up.”

For answer a rope came snaking out of nowhere, the loop falling over Gun’s head and immediately tightening around his upper arms. Another, from a different rider, flicked out and settled around his throat. The bowman, Mar now saw, had raised his weapon only to cover the movement of the men with ropes. Mar tried to lift the loop of braided leather free from Gun’s neck, but she was seized, firmly but gently, from behind and pulled away from Gun. He swayed only a little, the noose around his shoulders actually helping him to stay upright.

“All is well now, my girl,” Josh said, his arm around her shoulders. “See, we have caught him, and you are safe.”

She wrenched herself out of his grasp and ran to Gun. The noose around his throat had tightened, and his breathing was slow and painful.

“What are you doing,” she said. She tried to get at the knot of the noose with fingers that wouldn’t stop trembling. Finally she pulled the knife from her belt, only to find her wrist caught in a grip of steel.

“You do not wish to be free of him?” Josh’s voice was as hard as his grip.

“Mar.” Gun’s voice was a rasp, but firm.

“I . . .” Mar looked from Gun’s set face to the that of the Red Horseman. “Why are you doing this? Is it against the law to be Marked?”

One of the other riders gave a harsh laugh, and Josh-Chevrie himself moved his lips in a way that held no humor. His knife was suddenly in his hand, and he took Mar by the hair, bent her head back and held it to her throat.

“The Marked are broken, unsafe for all they come near, and are to be killed, as you must very well know,” he said. “And those who would help them are no better than they. Did you think that because you are so far from your streets and fields that we would not know this? Did you think us ignorant of the laws of the world?”

“She’s not Marked, don’t hurt her.” Gun’s voice was tight. “Mar, tell them.”

“But—” Mar coughed. It was almost impossible to get her throat to work when her head was being held at this angle. “We’re from the Path of the Sun,” she managed to croak. “The other side.”

“Of course you would say so now,” Josh-Chevrie said, signaling to his comrades. “But the Marked lie as easily as the rain falls.” The hand holding her hair shook her and Mar winced at the sharp pain. “I ask you again, do you wish to be free of him.”

“Yes, yes, she does.” A tug on the rope brought Gun to his knees.

One of them had to stay free. One of them had to find the Wolfshead and the Lionsmane. But she knew full well that neither one of the Mercenaries would save themselves at the other’s expense.
Never
? A small voice inside her spoke up. Not even to save others, many others? Not even to fulfill their mission. If she gave Josh-Chevrie the answer that would keep her free, would it really be because Gun wanted her to?

Mar tasted cowardice in the back of her throat. “Yes,” she said. “Free me.” She almost staggered as the hand in her hair loosened, but the young Horseman caught her, holding her up with an arm around her waist.

“Josh.” One of the others had been looking out from the circle. “Here are their tracks,” he said. “They have indeed come from the direction of the Door of the Sun.”

Mar’s heart leaped. Here was proof, the Red Horsemen would believe them, and all would be well.

“They may well have,” Josh agreed. “Did we not see the smoke?” He pointed with the knife still in his left hand to where Gun lay on the ground. “Doubtless this piece of inglera dung set the fire when he found he could not escape through Mother Sun’s Door.” He released Mar and squatted next to Gun.

“For that we will burn him ourselves.”

“Josh.” The pensive tone came from one of two men still on horseback, guiding their mounts with their knees to keep the ropes around Gun taut.

“What now, Tel-Banion?” Josh-Chevrie’s tone was clearly impatient.

“Are we sure? He seems to care about the girl, to want her to save herself. A Marked one, a broken one, would not do such a thing.”

Mar’s heart lifted with hope.

“Unless he is trying to trick us,” another of the Horsemen said.

“Gun would never hurt anyone,” Mar said. “Never.”

“If these
have
come through Mother Sun’s Door, perhaps they are like the Mercenary woman we have been told of.” Once again it was the Horseman called Tel-Banion.

“Wonderful.” Josh-Chevrie threw his hands into the air. “Now all broken people will simply claim to be from the other side of the Door. I lead here,” he said. “And I have decided.”

“You lead here so long as we agree,” Tel-Banion corrected. Something told Mar he’d had to make that distinction before. “Why not at least cloud speak? Get the assistance of those who have had to make this decision in the past.”

Josh strode over to where Gun was kneeling on the ground and pushed off the headscarf, grabbing a fistful of his sandy hair. The Horseman looked at each of his companions, and he evidently did not care for what he read on their faces. For a moment Mar thought that Josh would simply cut Gun’s throat, and she covered her mouth to keep from crying out.

Finally he lowered his knife hand, and thrust Gun away from him.

“Very well,” he said.

The next morning, when the sun was creeping toward the middle sky, Dhulyn Wolfshead was a handful of spans away from the pit, examining the ground as she rode in ever widening circles.

“What is she doing?” Bekluth tapped his thigh with the fingers of his left hand. He could see even from this distance how the light shone right through her.
There’s no darkness in her, not even a spot
.

“There’s quite a mix of tracks here, immediately around the orobeast trap,” Parno Lionsmane said. “My Partner is looking farther afield for the tracks of our two Brothers, to determine the direction they were coming from when they fell into the pit.”