The Exile and the Sorcerer (23 page)

Tevi left her and wandered around the room. She was not convinced of the sorcerer’s wickedness. The villager had clearly enjoyed her own story too much to take it all on trust. The death of a seriously ill child was not proof of murder, and as for the rest, the Treviston sorcerer clearly had a peculiar sense of humour; perhaps this one did as well. The basilisk was a more urgent, and probably unrelated, problem. Tevi was considering the villagers’ plight when she was disturbed by Orpin’s whining.

“Tevi, I need your help.”

“What with?” Tevi said impatiently.

“Jansk is ignoring me.”

“What do you expect me to do about it?”

“Well...I thought...perhaps if you were to pretend that you were, you know, getting keen on me...” Orpin shuffled his feet. “She’d get jealous and stop acting funny.”

The suggestion did not deserve a reply, and three more days with the muleteers did not bear thinking about. On the far side of the barn, Harrick was talking to Sergo. Tevi headed in their direction.

She spoke in a rush. “Harrick, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but the villagers have a problem with a basilisk. Now we’re over the pass, you won’t need me. I wondered if you’d consider paying me off so I can stay here and help out.”

Immediately, an overjoyed Sergo made her own appeal. “Please. You don’t know what this could mean to us.”

Harrick hesitated, shamefaced. “I don’t mind you staying, but I don’t have enough coin on me. I was counting on selling the merchandise first.”

The traders were certainly running to a tight budget, but it was not Tevi’s concern. She shrugged. “You can pay my salary into the Rizen guildhall. I’ll collect my share when I get there and the guild can keep its quarter.”

She could trust Harrick to do that; no trader would dare cheat the Guild of Mercenaries. In the end, Harrick let her keep her pony as collateral against her wages. Everyone was happy with the arrangements—except Orpin.

*

The following morning, Tevi stood and waved goodbye to Harrick’s team. She spent the rest of the day learning as much as she could about her quarry and getting a feel for the countryside. This involved a lot of travelling and being introduced to folk, all very keen to talk, yet with very little information to give. Only one ancient woman, huddled by her great-grandson’s fire, could remember the last time a basilisk had troubled the valley, but her wits were going, and her speech rambled. Tevi left after lengthy questioning, unsure whether the woman’s advice was for killing basilisks or peeling potatoes. The reference to eyes could have applied to either.

In the late afternoon, a shepherd took her to see the most recent victims. High on pastures above the main village stood two stone sheep with eyes like polished glass. Tevi ran her hand over one. It was not proper stone. It felt soft, like powdery grey chalk. Dust clung to Tevi’s fingers, and already, much of the fine detail on the wool was gone, blown away by the wind.

The snow was pockmarked with the sharp round hoofprints of sheep and the larger, softer paw marks of the basilisk, like those of a great cat stalking its prey. Estimates of the size of the beast had varied wildly. Tevi tried measuring the prints with her fingers. Reaching any definite conclusion was not easy, apart from casting doubt on the more sensational claims.

The paw marks ran off in an undulating line across the fields. Tevi and her guide followed them until the trail reached a rocky ford across a stream, fringed with ice. The shepherd’s two dogs ran sweeps, excitedly sniffing the snow, although probably more interested in rabbits than basilisks. On the other side of the stream, the paw marks continued towards a wooded area high on the hillside.

“That’s where it’s hiding out. Its tracks always lead there.” The shepherd pointed to the trees.

“Has no one tried putting snares out?”

“One or two, but no one’s dared go back to see if they’ve caught anything.”

“Since the beast struck yesterday, they obviously haven’t.”

“True.”

“Have you seen it?”

“No. But my sister did at dusk, drinking at the pool on Matte’s farm. That’s when it comes out most—dawn and dusk.”

Tevi studied the distant wood, shading her eyes against the setting sun—a reminder that dusk was not far away on that day. The trees gave no clues to their unwelcome occupant. Tevi’s survey followed the hillside down to the valley floor. Three villages and a dozen isolated farmhouses dotted the fields. Sheep, goats, and cattle grazed the lower slopes of the valley. Above them, directly opposite where Tevi was standing, the castle hunched on its outcrop of rock, a sombre presence in the valley. The fortifications were fading into the shadows of evening. The shepherd followed the direction of Tevi’s eyes and spat into the snow but said nothing, only whistled in the dogs and led the way down to the welcoming lights of the village.

That night, Tevi lodged in the reeve’s home. Sergo lived with a woman relative and a young son. Tevi could not work out whose son he was, but the three were so close, it did not seem to matter. The family lived in a room at one end of the cottage, while the rest of the building was given over to a cow barn, dairy and all-purpose workroom.

The cottage was cramped and noisy, particularly when a group of villagers squeezed in and stayed up late to recount all they knew of the basilisk. Their advice did not amount to much, apart from a general agreement that looking into the third eye was the thing to avoid. However, the cottage was warmer than the hall and homely, smelling of cows, cheese, and wood smoke. And the bed, when Tevi finally got to it, was soft.

*

Dawn was cloudless, though the sun held little warmth. The mountains of the Spur cut a sharp line against the winter sky. In the reeve’s cottage, Tevi awoke before first light. While Sergo and her relatives began their daily tasks, she sat by the fire with a bowl of porridge and completed her preparations. A knock announced the arrival of the village blacksmith. In addition to the promised small iron shield, he brought an old two-handed battle-axe, scavenged from the castle decades ago and since used for chopping wood. Now it had been sharpened to a keen edge. Tevi accepted it with a wry smile, remembering Cayell’s remarks concerning axe-women.

On the previous afternoon, in a display of bravado, two local youths had volunteered to accompany Tevi. They joined her outside the shearing barn. The three left the village to a chorus of good wishes. The young men were putting a brave face on for their friends, although Tevi wondered if they were regretting their rashness. She was wondering the same thing about herself.

The wood was silent as they approached. All that they could hear was the whisper of wind in the branches, the bleating of sheep, and the distant clatter of a cowbell. A clear trail of paw marks, less than a day old, disappeared into the trees. The basilisk was using a path made by wild deer. Tevi peered along it. The summer undergrowth had died back, but there were still enough evergreen leaves and coils of bramble to prevent her seeing more than a few yards.

“Do you want to wait out here for me?” Tevi asked.

“We’ll follow you a little way.” One of the youths managed a sickly smile. “After all, you’ve got the weapons if the thing shows up.”

Progress was slow and uncomfortable, watching each footfall while crouched double under low branches. They had covered about one hundred yards when they heard the unmistakable sound of a large animal nosing through the undergrowth ahead. The noise was too loud to be a bird, although it might be a lost sheep. The rustling ceased briefly and then began again. The sound played among the trees, making it difficult to assess direction or speed. Tevi’s hands tightened on her spear. Her heart thudded against her ribs. Behind her, the villagers froze as if already turned to stone. Even their breathing stopped.

“Wait here. If it’s safe, I’ll call to you,” Tevi whispered.

“Right.”

“And if anything goes wrong...”

“We run.”

Tevi smiled grimly. “Right.”

Twenty yards farther on, Tevi reached the edge of a small clearing. She hid behind a tree with her back braced against its trunk and then cautiously peered around the side. The rising sun had cleared the treetops. Light glinted dazzling white off the ground, while in the shadows, the snow was palest blue. Bushes and trees on the far side made a dark, knotted, unbroken barrier. At first, nothing stirred. Then a bush twitched, and another, and then stillness. Tevi’s eyes were locked on the spot where the last sign of movement had been. Abruptly, the branches dipped and the basilisk broke through the undergrowth.

The beast was smaller than Tevi had expected, the size of a large dog, with a long, sinuous neck and a head that would have been otter-like if not for the bulging third eye in its forehead. The basilisk was dark brown, covered in a thick pelt that told of its home in the high northern mountains. It stood poised ready to spring with its nose pointed into the air, casting about for scent.

Tevi loosened her sword in its scabbard and tugged the strap of the axe over her shoulder. One hand grasped the spear firmly. The other hand raised the shield in front of her face, guarding her eyes. All she could see of the creature was its shadow. She stepped around the tree into the open. The basilisk gave a soft whine and padded towards her.

Under the rim of her shield, Tevi watched the basilisk’s shadow approach. She noted the swinging of its head and its graceful catlike gait.
And will it also pounce like a cat?
she wondered.
Or charge like a boar?
The villagers had been able to give no advice.

The basilisk halted a few feet away, wary. It appeared to rise up and then drop back on all fours. Its head swung low and wide. Tevi prayed that she was interpreting the shadow correctly. For a split second, she almost gave in to the temptation to lift her shield and see what the basilisk was doing. She clenched her teeth. A second’s lapse in concentration—that was all it would take.

Without warning, the beast sprung, a high, lunging attack. The claws of one paw caught the edge of Tevi’s shield, but already she was moving, ducking with her eyes closed and thrusting upwards with the spear. She felt the point make contact and lodge in the animal’s chest. The basilisk’s howl filled the clearing. It flung itself back, dragging the spear from Tevi’s hand. Still with her eyes shut, Tevi shrugged the axe off her shoulder and grasped the handle. She risked one glimpse of her quarry. Scarcely an arm’s length away, the basilisk’s head was thrown back in a second long howl. Its front paws scraped at the shaft of the spear while its body writhed backwards. The axe felt solid in Tevi’s hands. She swung as hard as she could and, with a single stroke, decapitated the beast.

Suddenly, it was very quiet. The headless carcass collapsed, gushing red blood into the snow. There was the twitch of a back leg, and then the beast was still. Tevi was surprised to realise she was shaking violently. She sank to her knees, breathing deeply, and waited for the pounding of her heart to ease. Unexpectedly, she felt a childish grin spread across her face. Fighting back giggles, she scooped up a handful of snow and rubbed it over her cheeks, and then took another deep breath.

“It’s all right. It’s dead.” She shouted to the young men. Despite her assurance, they advanced cautiously, with hesitant steps and hushed voices, until they reached the clearing and saw the scene.

“Hey, you did it!”

“Swiped its head clean off!” They gave vent to twin exclamations of delight.

“It was pretty straightforward. The thing didn’t...” Tevi stopped; too much modesty might seem arrogant.

Feeling detached, Tevi stood back and watched the men approach, prodding the body with their feet and making silly jokes. Her gaze shifted to the basilisk’s head. It had bounced, rolled, and ended up in a small hollow a dozen paces away. Tevi walked over and grabbed it by the fur between the ears. “Who gets to keep the trophy?”

One of the villagers laughed. “You do, if you want it.”

“It could go on the wall of the shearing shed,” the other suggested.

Tevi held the basilisk’s head level with her own. The jaw hung open, revealing a row of peg-like teeth. The basilisk could never deliver a serious bite, and its body was ill adapted for a fight. Tevi had already noted that its claws were weak and blunt. The creature had only one weapon: the strange protrusion on its forehead. Tevi examined the thick lids. Close up, the organ looked more like a mouth than an eye. With her free hand, she tried to prise it open to see what lay beneath. The lips were just starting to part when Tevi felt the twitch of muscle under her fingers. The central eye snapped open.

*

The young men did not realise that anything was wrong until Tevi screamed. Both heads jerked in her direction, in time to see her crash to her knees, the echo of her scream still ringing in the air. Tevi’s hands were pressed against her eyes.

The men froze, caught on the brink of flight, but no new danger was apparent. Slowly, one crept to Tevi’s side.

“What’s wrong, Tevi?”

She did not answer.

He took hold of her wrists, trying to pull her hands away. The attempt was futile. Whatever the problem, her strength was unaffected. Tevi’s shoulders shook with gasps, sounding like they were ripped from her throat. The man looked to his friend, unsure of what to do. The other could only shrug.