The Blood King (39 page)

“Mussa poison,” Vahanian said.

“But I’ve sworn off it now, by the Whore,” Linton said with a grin. “Stuff gave me the damnedest headache when it finally wore off.”

“You’re just lucky the bastards didn’t slit your throat to make sure you were dead,” Vahanian said.

“Calculated risk, m’boy,” Linton said. “When I woke up, there was no one left.

So I salvaged any-thing that might be of use and took off for the river. I had a few coins hidden about. Enough to set me up with this,” he added with an expansive sweep of his arm to indicate the tavern, “and here I’ve been.”

Carroway told the story of their escape from the slavers, with more than one poetic flourish that made Tris wince and caused Vahanian to roll his eyes.

Linton listened intently. At Carroway’s sus-penseful retelling of the battle at the Ruune Videya, the caravan master glanced from Tris to Vahanian and back again to assure himself of the truth of the fantastic tale. Mama hunched over the bar, spell-bound. By the time Carroway had recounted their journey to the Library, their reunion with Soterius and Harrtuck in Principality, and the word from Isencroft of Cam’s safe arrival, Linton grinned and slapped his thigh.

“Goddess True, that’s a tale for the bards!” he exclaimed, motioning for Mama to bring another round of drinks. Tris and Carroway waved away anything but ale, while Vahanian joined Linton in another of the throat-numbing whiskey.

“So you’re the ones who put up with his mangy hide before he came here,”

Mama sniped good-naturedly as she brought the drinks. “Well if you be a mage, then magic away those monsters what swim in the river before they eat up every last fish. Fishermen can’t make a decent living no more, with those things in there. Every so often they eat up a sailor what falls in, too.” She waddled back out of earshot and busied herself at the bar.

“That’s only a slight exaggeration, m’boy,” Linton said seriously. “It’s been edgy on the river since the thaw. There are things in the river that aren’t born of nature, and there’s more than one old hand has seen them. There’ve been Nargi on the move, too, but we don’t know why.” Linton glanced toward Vahanian on the last comment. Vahanian frowned but said nothing.

Kiara and Carina joined them at the table. Mama hustled back up the gangplank with a steaming stewpot and distributed enough chipped, mismatched bowls for each of them. She ladled out a generous amount of fish stew, pun-gent with onions and garlic. Coarse, crisp flatbread accompanied it, together with ample portions of salty butter.

“Someone was through here not long ago that might interest you, though she didn’t tell the full tale of where she’d been, I see. Alyzza turned up, looking a little worse for the wear, two moons ago,” Linton reported. “Cagey as hell when I’d asked where she’d been or what had happened with the slavers. Now I know why. Said she was bound

for Margolan,” he added. “Something about old business to finish at the Hawthorn Moon.”

“You’re sure she said the Hawthorn Moon?” Carina asked.

Linton nodded. “Certain. Didn’t think much of it, an old hedge witch wanting to be somewhere for a witches’ moon. Why?”

Tersely, Tris recounted what they knew of Arontala’s plans, and of Alyzza’s past with the Sisterhood. “Damn my soul,” Linton swore when Tris was through. “I never thought to see the likes of that.” He looked at Vahanian. “Picked a hell of a guide’s job on this one, didn’t you?”

“You know me, Maynard. Never a dull moment.”

“Watch your step, Tris,” Linton cautioned. “There’ve been more than a few guardsmen through these parts with as heavy a Margolan accent as you’ll ever hear. They might be a little more interested in your travels than you’d like.”

THEY TALKED UNTIL mid-afternoon, much of it Linton and Vahanian catching up on river news. Tris cradled the steaming bowl of stew in his hands for a while before he ate, appreciating its heat. The others did the same, to Mama’s amuse-ment. She called out something to Vahanian, punctuated by a sharp laugh, and he turned to them with a grin.

“She said to tell you that she hopes you aren’t try-ing to pass for river folk,” he translated. “River folk have ice for blood.”

“They must,” Carroway said, earnestly eating his stew. “I’m never going to be warm again.”

When she could force no more stew or bread on her guests, Mama plied them with hot tea and some small, caramelized nuts. Then she withdrew the flask again and offered more of its contents, but this time, even Vahanian declined to join her. She fixed him with a scornful look and muttered a pointed remark that elicited a shrug in return.

“I think she just called you something,” Kiara jibed.

“She did,” Vahanian said, with a wink at their hostess. “But out of respect to the healer here, I can’t repeat it.”

Mama pushed past them to dig through a box of jumbled belongings. From it, she withdrew a half-moon pendant of carved bone on a leather strap, which she brought on an outstretched hand to Carina. “Please, m’lady, if you would,”

Mama said earnestly in the Common tongue, “a blessing for an old woman.”

Carina took Mama’s stained hand in hers. “I don’t think I’m qualified to bless anything,” she said. Mama looked crestfallen. “But perhaps I can help that limp if you like,” she added quickly.

Mama brightened and tucked the pendant into a pocket of her ample apron. “A healing is twice as good as a blessing. What do you think I wanted it blessed for?” She laughed raucously. The others made room for Carina to examine the woman, try-ing not to watch as Carina let her hands move slowly over Mama’s hips and legs. Finally, Carina stood, brightening for the first time since they left Principality.

“I can fix that,” Carina said confidently. “Just sit down while I work.” For the next half candlemark,

Carina worked as Carroway kept Mama diverted with stories. It seemed to lift the minstrel’s dark mood, and had Mama clapping in delight. Sakwi looked on with interested approval.

“Try standing,” Carina urged Mama.

The river woman struggled to her feet, then cau-tiously took a step. Slowly, her bulk settled onto her forward foot. She relaxed with a look of wonder, taking another step and then a third, until she made a hop of joy that rocked the houseboat

“Oh, dearie!” she exclaimed, running to clasp Carina in a bear hug. “That leg has hurt me for more years than I can count. The Lady was good to me today,”

Mama said. “You’re welcome here any time.”

“Nyall’s coming,” Vahanian called from the doorway. Mama bustled to meet him.

“Nyall,” she shrilled. “Nyall. Come look what your healer’s done. She fixed my leg, good as a lit-tle baby’s!” Mama exclaimed joyfully. She made a giddy pirouette for the river pilot, who smiled indulgently.

“I told you they were good folks,” the pilot man said. He sobered as he turned back to Tris and the others. “Boat’s ready. Like as not, you’ll want to get going.

Got a break in the storm, but no telling what’ll come next. Wind’s blowing like more rain.”

“Wonderful,” Carroway muttered as he reached for the dry cloak Mama proffered.

“Here, take these with you,” Mama said, rum-maging around the small houseboat in a frenzy as her guests prepared to leave. She tossed items into a bag.

“Some crackers, dearie, for your stomach,” she said with a nod to Carina, “and some of those sugar nuts for that cough,” she said to Sakwi. “A little tea for all of you tonight—Nyall never remem-bers to take enough tea. A little dried fish to keep up your strength and this,” she said, withdrawing a second small flask and lifting it in salute to Vahanian, who grinned. “To warm you up.”

“Now off with you,” Linton said with mock gruffness, “before she gives away my profits for the month.” He paused, and laid a hand on Tris’s shoulder. “Goddess go with you. Good luck.”

“Off with you!” Mama protested, waving them away. “And Goddess be with you.” She reached into her pocket to finger her pendant, watching them from the gangplank. Nyall led them into the maze of docks once more, and the houseboat dis-appeared from view.

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THE RAIN HELD off until late afternoon, when the clouds rolled in once more and began a steady downpour. Vahanian’s mood became decidedly worse once the floating city was behind them and they head-ed downriver, into Nargi territory. His banter disappeared, and his replies, if he spoke, were terse. He was clearly alert for trouble, and his jumpiness made a noticeable difference in all of their moods.

Despite Mama’s crackers Carina once more looked sick. Kiara was troubled, foregoing her rest breaks and joining Carroway in watching the river-bank for danger. Nyall, too, wore an expression that made it clear that the pilot looked forward to completing the passage. His unruly black beard and brows were like storm clouds, and his piercing black eyes harbored an unspoken worry. Even the horses seemed affected, and it took all of Sakwi’s and Carina’s skills to quiet them.

“I never thought I’d feel safer in Margolan,” Carroway grumbled as Tris leaned past him to clear debris from their path with his pole. “But the sooner we’re off this river, the better. Something feels wrong.”

“I’ve had a bad feeling since we left Mama’s,” Tris agreed, looking along the gray forests of the riverbanks and seeing nothing but shadows. “I don’t like it either.”

He had sensed the spirits of the river ghosts after they left the houseboat village.

The ghosts kept their distance, watching them in silence. Tris had a distinct feeling of uneasiness from them, and sensed a foreboding that made him wish for shore.

“What’s that?” Kiara called. Tris and Carroway came at a run. Jae took to the air and flew ahead of the boat, circling and squawking.

“What’s what?” Carroway asked, scanning the river.

Kiara shook her head. “It’s gone.” She squinted for a better look. “Something in the water, some-thing big.”

“Maybe a log,” Tris suggested hopefully, scan-ning and seeing nothing.

Kiara shook her head. “Logs don’t move like that.”

“Look there.” Vahanian pointed, and they swiveled starboard just as something dark and large dipped below the river’s surface. “That was no log. I don’t like the look of it.” He turned to Nyall. “Can this thing go any faster?”

The river pilot gave him a withering look. “This isn’t a little smuggling skiff,”

he replied. “We put up a sail in this wind and we’ll be capsized in a moment.

You ever see horses drown?”

“You’ve made your point,” Vahanian said. “But I—”

His words were lost as something crashed hard into the bottom of the boat.

“Hang on!” Nyall shouted, throwing his bulk into turning the rudder. Everyone but Sakwi and Carina rushed to the rails, poles in hand, watching the turbu-lent, dark waters. The horses squealed and reared in panic. Sakwi and Carina struggled to restore calm, but the frightened animals shied, lifting their heads as if they smelled danger on the wind.

“There’s something out there!” Sakwi shouted.

“No kidding,” Vahanian shot back, anxiously scanning the waters.

“I can feel it,” the land mage returned. “Something big.”

“Tell it to go away,” Vahanian said.

Sakwi’s eyes squeezed closed in concentration, then opened wide in alarm. “It’s not listening,” the thin mage reported, as Carina turned to him wor-riedly.

“Something’s very wrong. Whatever’s out there… shouldn’t be. It’s not a living thing.”

Kiara and Tris exchanged worried glances. “Magemonster,” they said at once.

The river erupt-ed around them, hitting them with a wall of water. The deck of the ship suddenly pitched, sending them all into the black water of the raging Nu.

An unnatural shriek pierced the night and a huge, scale-covered tail thrashed out of the water, shatter-ing the ship and sending beams and boards flying amid the terrified horses that flailed for their lives in the swift current. Tris felt something brush his leg and he lashed out an arm to grab for Kiara, who was struggling toward shore.

“Hold onto this!” he shouted, thrusting a bit of decking toward her He felt something grab onto his leg, dragging him under.

Mud churned in the cold water, making sight impossible. Tris knew he had only moments to break free before he was doomed by either the chill or the current. He grabbed for the knife on his belt and slashed at the thing which held his leg. His blade, sharp enough to slice a thin leaf to ribbons, bounced off harmlessly. Tris was grow-ing lightheaded, his chilled body barely responding as he pulled at the heavily muscled tentacle.

Something streaked past him in the water. Tris felt pressure, then a sudden release. The tentacle jerked free, releasing a cloud of ichor that burned his skin.

A strong hand grabbed at the front of his tunic and pulled upwards.

Around them, the water churned and more tenta-cles reached for them. Tris jabbed and slashed with his blade as he and his rescuer struggled to evade the slippery river creature. Tris knew they were both fading fast. His lungs ached for air; pinpricks of bright lights danced in the darkness before his eyes. As he began to lose consciousness, Tris stretched out with his power in one urgent cry for help. His rescuer stopped struggling, and the dark form began to sink. His hand closed around a thin, strong wrist. Kiara, he thought, making one last, futile push toward the surface.

The waters stirred. Expecting to feel the monster’s grip, Tris instead was borne up on hands strong but insubstantial. As he slipped toward unconscious-ness, he could sense the spirits rallying around him, driving back the creature in response to his sum-mons before he blacked out.

TRIS SPUTTERED, AND spat river muck out of his mouth. “If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I’d have never believed it,” Nyall was saying over and over again, pounding Tris on the back to clear the water from his aching lungs.

“Never in all my life. Dark Lady save me. I’ve known there are ghosts on a river’s bed, poor souls, but never in my life have I seen the dead bear up the living and deliver them nice as that onto the bank.” He stopped his pound-ing when Tris could finally wave his arms in protest.

“Kiara,” Tris managed, still spitting grit from his mouth.