The Whitefire Crossing (6 page)

As we wound along the canyon’s north slope, the kreeling shriek of a banehawk echoed off the sheer wall above. I turned to Kiran, wanting to see if he’d flinch or grab for a charm. That faint accent of his...I’d once shadowed a group of Kaithan traders who’d come straight from the southern blight. The liquid slur of their speech was the closest match I’d come up with for Kiran’s oddly inflected vowels. And southerners were all superstitious as hell. Varkevians, Sulanians, Kaithans...even the ones who scoffed at the vast southern pantheon of demons still wore devil-ward charms and turned pale at the sight of a banehawk.

Curiosity brightened Kiran’s face as he watched the hulking black shape soar past. “What kind of bird is that? I’ve never seen one so large.”

Ah. Banehawks were rarely seen in the city. I’d spied them on occasion perched near butcher shops and slaughteryards in hopes of snatching up offal, but I’d forgotten a highsider wouldn’t have cause to visit such places, not with servants to buy meat for them.

“Banehawk,” I said. “They eat carrion. Some say they’ve the souls of devils banished from Shaikar’s hells, and their call’s a death omen. Half the men in this convoy are snatching at devil-ward charms right now.”

“Devil-ward charm?” Kiran peered at me like he wasn’t sure if I was joking. “But devils are only stories. What would such a charm even do?”

Well. His accent couldn’t be Kaithan, then. I snorted. “Nothing. They’re just a way for streetside charmsellers to make easy coin. Slap together some loops of copper, etch on some fancy-looking sigils, and sell it to superstitious marks who’ll never know it’s got no magic.”

Superstitious though they were, southerners did know how to tell a good story. Khalmet’s their god of luck, and they say he has one hand of human flesh and one of skeletal bone. If he taps you with the flesh hand, your luck is good, but if he taps you with the other, no charm will save you from disaster. Any man who spends time in the mountains sees enough people die through no fault of their own for that to make perfect sense. But I’d never seen reason to believe invisible devils lurked about waiting to poison men’s souls. In my experience, men were capable of evil enough on their own.

Kiran shook his head. “But any mage could tell them the charm was worthless.”

I cast him a sharp, quelling glance. Thank Khalmet we were riding far enough back from the convoy that no drovers should’ve heard that little comment.

Confusion mixed with unease on his face. I leaned toward him and muttered, “Ask a mage? Right. Because so many of those live streetside. Besides, devils might be the stuff of campfire tales, but mages can kill you just as nastily. Ganglords and highsiders may think themselves clever enough to deal direct with mages, but ordinary streetside folk know to keep well clear.”

Kiran winced. “I see,” he said softly. His lips pressed together, his expression turning as stubbornly withdrawn as it had been before we entered the canyon.

I sighed. I hadn’t meant to shut him up entirely. But then, better he rode in silence than make any more dangerous slips of the tongue. Pello’s wagon wasn’t far up the line.

The afternoon wore on and the trail grew ever more rocky as we continued the relentless ascent. I kept an eye on the clouds overhead, which had started as occasional tiny puffs and were by now numerous and much larger. Still white, but I was guessing that would change soon. Sure enough, Meldon’s bell rang out once we reached a spot where the upward grade of the canyon lessened enough for the drovers to safely halt the wagons. We hadn’t reached the trees yet, but head high catsclaw bushes choked the boulder-strewn bottom of the canyon, which meant water lurked down there.

“We’re stopping here?” Kiran asked.

“Yep. See those clouds? They’ve been building all day, and there’s likely to be a storm. Cara’s told the boss, and he’s decided to stop for the night. Better to have plenty of time to cover everything nice and tight and set up shelter.”

“But what about water? I thought you said we wouldn’t stop today until we hit a stream?”

“We have.” I pointed down at the silvery green sea of catsclaw. “Catsclaw only grows where it’s wet enough. There’ll be a trickle of water down there. It’ll be a pain in the ass to bash through the bushes and fill the jugs, but it’s possible. We’ve got enough water left in the barrels to last the evening, but tomorrow morning we’ll have to replenish our stores.” I peered at the sky again. “It may even rain some, but I doubt it. This side of the mountains, you mainly get hail and lightning.”

A frown crossed Kiran’s face at the word “lightning.” He squinted up at the clouds, shading his eyes with a hand. “Is it normal to get this kind of storm?”

I shrugged. “Yeah. Usually it takes longer to build up again. The last one was maybe four days ago. This time of year, you usually get a week or two in between, but you never know. No doubt the southerners’ll claim that banehawk brought bad luck on the convoy.”

Kiran still looked concerned, which surprised me. Most city dwellers think lightning’s only a fun fireworks show, like the ones Sechaveh commissions from the mages for holidays. With all the mage wards on the towers, nobody ever gets struck in the city. Up here it’s a different story, but most don’t know that.

“You worried about getting hit? Don’t be. Lightning likes to strike the highest point, and we’re well below the ridgelines, here.”

“That’s good to know,” he said, but his expression didn’t change.

“We gotta head back to the outrider wagon and give Harken a hand with covering the supplies.” He followed me as I spurred my horse up the trail, but he kept glancing at the clouds when he thought I wasn’t looking.

***

(Kiran)

Kiran hung on to his corner of the oilcloth as a sharp gust of wind tried to rip it from his cramping hands. He was grateful Dev hadn’t asked him to help secure the ropes lashing the oilcloth over the contents of the wagon. Kiran had seen how swiftly and nimbly Dev and the others tied their knots. He couldn’t match their skill, even when his muscles weren’t already burning with exhaustion. He only hoped Cara, Jerik, and Dev finished with the other end of the wagon before he lost his grip entirely.

The clouds had grown dark to the west. Massive thunderheads towered above the serrated rock of the western ridges, and wind gusts kicked grit and sand into the air, stinging Kiran’s eyes. Far worse was the sting of power against his inner senses, crawling along his nerves. His initial suspicions had solidified into certainty: this was no natural storm, no matter what Dev thought. Magical power coiled and twisted through those clouds. Invisible and intangible to the others, but each lightning strike would slam that hidden power against his mental barriers with the force of a battering ram. And if his barriers failed...Kiran shuddered. Ruslan would have him, then, and he’d never get a second chance to escape.

Magic whispered against his senses, right behind him. Kiran started and nearly lost his grip on the oilcloth.

“Easy, lad, it’s only me.” Harken patted him on the shoulder, his dark eyes kind. “Storm has you on edge, does it? Same goes for the animals.” He nodded to the tethered outrider horses, who were snorting and tossing their heads. “Even good-natured, steady sorts like these don’t care much for thunder and lightning, so we drovers have a little trick...” He opened one blunt-fingered hand. A pile of thumbnail-sized discs, each bearing a single swirled rune, gleamed in his callused palm.

“Muting charms?” Kiran blinked at the harmless little charms, berating himself for reacting so strongly to their minor magic.

Harken smiled at him in approval. “Exactly, lad. Put one of these on a halter...” He moved to the nearest horse and deftly clipped a charm to the inside of the halter’s cheek strap. “Even the nerviest of beasts will sit meek as you please through a nasty storm. It doesn’t totally block their senses, you understand—they wouldn’t like that much. Only dims them, so all the noise and light aren’t so overwhelming.” He pulled a knife from his belt, pricked his thumb, and smeared a tiny drop of blood on the charm to activate it.

Kiran’s breath caught in his throat as an idea blossomed. “That’s...very interesting. May I see one?”

“Sure.” Harken tossed a charm onto the wagon’s outboard. “I’ve got plenty.”

Kiran released a hand from the oilcloth and snatched up the charm. Something so simple and small wouldn’t interfere with his amulet, and though the charm couldn’t possibly relieve the coming assault on his senses, it might take the edge off. Enough to help him hold his barriers fast, if he was lucky.

“Hey!” A sharp tug on the oilcloth yanked Kiran from his thoughts. Dev was scowling at him in exasperation from a few feet away, a length of rope in his hand. “Let go, already. I can’t tie this last knot with you pulling like that.”

“Sorry.” Kiran released the oilcloth and shoved the charm into his pocket. The storm was still far enough away that the thunder was only a low grumbling, but each distant lightning strike sent fire racing along his nerves. Dev finished his knot and directed Kiran over to help him set up a camping tarp. He used a huge boulder as the anchor for one long side and pounded stakes deep into the ground for the other, forming a slanted shelter with open sides.

“I doubt we’ll get rain, but it’s best to be prepared,” he yelled over a loud wind gust. Kiran gritted his teeth and tried to focus on the task and not the increasingly ominous sky. When Dev turned away to check the stakes, Kiran slipped the muting charm out of his pocket and under his sock cuff, against his skin. Thankfully, only the untalented had to activate charms with their own blood. Kiran sent a slender thread of power into the charm. His sight dimmed, the world turning gray. When lightning struck again, to his relief the fire burning his nerves raw lessened a fraction.

Dev pulled Kiran under the slanted shelter of the tarp and sat down on folded blankets. “Now we wait,” he said, his voice faint and tinny sounding.

Kiran drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, hoping to hide his shivering. Lightning flashed outside, and the resulting crash of thunder was lost in the soundless white fire in Kiran’s head. So much power, so close...even with the little muting charm’s help, the sensations threatened to overwhelm his control. Under his clothes, the amulet sparked and burned against the skin of his chest, and he hoped desperately its protections would hold. Lightning struck again, closer yet. Power smashed against his barriers. He buried his head in his arms, choking back a scream. He had to stay hidden from Ruslan, regardless of the cost.

***

(Dev)

The storm’s fury raged outside the open end of our tarp. No rain, but we got near-constant lightning mixed with the occasional violent burst of hail. The clouds were thick and dark enough to give the scene the look of late twilight, even though another few hours remained in the day. The cracks of thunder sent booming echoes rolling through the canyon. I kept an eye on the canyon’s opposite wall, watching for rockfall.

Beside me, Kiran sat hunched up in a ball, his head down in his arms so only a shock of brown-dyed hair showed. He’d been skittish as a kicked colt before the storm hit, although he’d tried to hide it. And when I’d pulled him under the tarp, his arm muscles beneath my hand had felt tight as guy ropes. He hadn’t said a word, only curled up tight as a snail on the blankets.

As a searing flash lit the world outside, I noticed he was trembling. Huh. I had seen little kids and animals afraid of thunder, but never an adult, young or otherwise. But then, I’d once met an outrider terrified of the harmless little whiptail lizards that liked to sun themselves on courtyard walls in Ninavel. He’d told me he knew it was crazy, but he just couldn’t help it.

Maybe Kiran was the same; or maybe it was yet another piece of the puzzle. I wished I could start fitting pieces together, but so far nothing about him or the job made much sense. What really confused me was Kiran’s obvious inexperience in shadow dealings. Unless this was only a practice run—maybe his superiors weren’t sure a person could be safely smuggled through the border, and wanted some evidence of success before putting their real plan into motion. But if they wanted to send someone expendable on this run, why a highsider? Why not some streetsider eager for coin and safely ignorant of highsider business? Then again, given Bren’s instructions, maybe somebody back in Ninavel wanted Kiran gone and didn’t much care if he ended up truth-spelled and spilling his secrets to angry Alathians.

A wide bolt of lightning struck a pinnacle jutting like a broken finger from the ridge across the canyon, in a stuttering flash so bright it left glaring afterimages printed on my vision. Thunder exploded, and Kiran flinched violently. He made a choked noise loud enough for me to hear over the echoes, but didn’t raise his head.

A puff of vaporized rock rose from the pinnacle, and a shower of enormous boulders tumbled down the cliff face, sending up an even larger cloud of rock dust. A sharp, flinty smell filled the air. I coughed, trying to get the scent out of my mouth and nose before it brought up memories I didn’t want to think about. Just as well Kiran hadn’t seen the rockfall happen. If the storm scared him now, I’d hate to see his reaction if he realized we were easy targets for any rockfall from the cliffs on our side of the canyon. I grinned sourly to myself at the thought as the rocks smashed into the talus slopes at the base of the cliffs. The grinding roar of the collision mixed with yet more thunder.

Gradually, the storm moved off eastward, taking the light show with it. We got one more shower of hail that made the horses fling their heads and snort in protest despite Harken’s calming charms, but after that the clouds started to break up. Cautiously, I poked my head outside the tarp. The sun had sunk behind the peaks during the storm, and the western ridgelines stood out clear and sharp against a rose-colored sky.

The city wasn’t visible anymore, thanks to the twists and turns of Silverlode Canyon, but the eastern sky was a sullen black. Continual flashes lit up the clouds, accompanied by the distant growl of thunder. The cityfolk would get a real show tonight. That was by far the most powerful storm I’d ever seen this early in the season. Usually storms didn’t get anywhere near this bad until the heat of late summer. Of course, any outrider knows the mountains can always catch you by surprise.