Path of Fate (39 page)

They encountered Kebonsat halfway. He cast Reisil an inquiring look and she shrugged.

“I was explaining to your sister that I must heal all hurts—large or small—if we are going to reach Vorshtar in time to do any good. So she will have to put up with my ministrations until then.”

As Resil left them together and returned to the camp, she averted her head from the prisoners, bound to the wheels of a wagon. The first night of their jouney, Kaval had tried to speak to her. Wanting, she supposed, to explain. As if he could. But just hearing his voice conjured the memory of him grappling with Ceriba, his hands smeared with her blood. The recollection turned Resil’s stomach. She could not see him. Not yet, not without wanting to kill him.

 

Two days later, they emerged from the aptly named Bonelands. Before them spread the Vorshtar plain. It filled the horizon north and east, while the proud reaches of the Dume Griste mountains dwindled away to undulating hills in the west. Green and gold grasses rippled in the summery breeze, making the prairie lands resemble nothing more than a vast, verdant ocean.

“Where to now?” asked Juhrnus.

Edelsat pointed, shading his squinting eyes with the other hand. “Over there, at the old Conclave site, on the banks of the Trieste River. A long time ago, warlords met there to parley. It was sacred. Clerics would mark off a space and whoever entered was guaranteed safe passage. Their conclaves lasted sometimes for months. Good water, grazing and hunting.” He glanced at Kebonsat and then back to Juhrnus. “See those smudges? Smoke—a lot of fires.”

“Big armies,” Sodur commented.

“I didn’t know they could gather so fast,” Reisil said.

“The troops and horses were well rested from the truce. I doubt much infantry has arrived. These will be cavalry units,” Kebonsat said. “Some of those people will be support staff.”

“We can’t just walk in. By now they’ll know something went wrong. They’ll be looking for us.”

Edelsat glanced at the prisoner wagon, guarded by six of his men.

Reisil followed his gaze and found Kaval staring at her. He’d not tried to speak to her since that first night, but his eyes followed her constantly, pleading. She still carried the scarf he’d given her the day before he left in the bottom of her saddlebags. Every time she touched it, she felt dirty. A reminder that she wasn’t yet done with him. Sooner or later she would have to confront Kaval, to quit him face-to-face.

“Let’s go closer and get the lay of the land,” Edelsat suggested. “As many of us as there are, and armed, we shouldn’t stand out.”

“What about them?” Kebonsat gestured at the prisoners.

“I’ll take care of them. They’ll be no trouble,” Reisil declared flatly, flexing her fingers on her reins. “We’ll just want something to cover them with.”

“Or my men could knock them out,” Edelsat offered quickly, frowning.

Reisil shook her head, grateful for his concern for her welfare. “If I put them out, they won’t wake again until I want them to. If you bash them on the head, we won’t be sure.” She shrugged, feeling faintly disgusted with herself that she didn’t particularly care for the harm that might be done to Kaval and his companions if Edelsat’s men cracked their heads. Her only concern was seeing the treaty signed and the war averted.

“You’re certain? My men wouldn’t mind.”

Reisil glanced at the grim-faced men guarding the wagon. They had made no secret of their loathing for their charges. Indeed, they would not mind the opportunity to get some revenge on Ceriba’s behalf.

“No, it’s better this way.”

Edelsat was unabashed and gave her a friendly grin, which she returned. She liked him. He had an easy way about him, though he commanded quick respect from his men. He was thoughtful, clearheaded and compassionate, though she had no doubt that on the battlefield Edelsat would strike fear into the hearts of his opponents. He and Kebonsat had spent many hours over the last days discussing strategies for what to do next. Listening to them, Reisil learned a great deal about strategy and tactics, about how armies worked and about politics.

“It’s like a maze—there’s so much to know and so much of it seems silly and arbitrary,” she had complained to Sodur.

He laughed. “It is why you must go to Koduteel for training. The wheels of power turn on the silly and arbitrary, petty jealousies and bitter grudges.”

Now the group dismounted and prepared a simple lunch while Reisil set about the task she’d assigned herself. In an odd way, she looked forward to it. Not just to finishing things with Kaval, but to having an active part in bringing them all to justice.

Before she began, she retrieved the scarf from her pack. When she approached the wagon, Edelsat’s men stepped aside with a deference that made her flush. She climbed inside, wrinkling her nose at the smell. She turned to Kebonsat, who waited nearby.

“They need to be washed. I can put them to sleep, but that stench will speak volumes.”

He nodded. “I’ll speak with Edelsat. Will you be all right?” His glance flicked to Kaval, who stared at Reisil with greedy intensity.

“I will. I have some unfinished business here, and I’d like to get it over with.” He gave a knowing look at the scarf bunched in her fist and nodded again, scowling.

“Remember where the blame lies. It is not your burden to bear,” he said in a gentle voice that belied his expression. Then he walked away, leaving her alone with the prisoners.

Before any could speak, she laid two fingers on the forehead of the closest man—the cartwright from Kallas. His eyes closed and he sagged over. The other men began to cry out and squirm, but Reisil quickly touched her fingers to each of them and soon they all slumped in unnatural sleep, all but Kaval.

He stared at her, his vivid blue eyes desperate and hopeful. Reisil felt herself harden, even before he spoke, seeing that hope. As if he could charm her, make her overlook what he’d done.

“Reisil, you must let me explain. Please!” His voice was thick and hoarse. Fury kindled inside her as she remembered how wonderful he had made her feel, how special, whispering in her ear in the dark. Her lips flattened. She wanted a bath.

“What could you say, Kaval? Did you like hurting Ceriba? Did you like beating and raping her?” Reisil’s lip curled and tears burned her throat. “In all the time I knew you, I never saw it. Never saw how cruel, how evil you could be. Did you hide it so well? Or was I just stupid, too infatuated, to see the real you?”

He shook his head, groaning softly as he did. “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t want to. I didn’t like it. But it had to be done. It was the only way to stop the treaty. You don’t know about the war. Not really. I saw, going to Koduteel—” He swallowed thickly, his lips swollen and bruised from the “care” of Edelsat’s men. “The treaty will destroy Kodu Riik. We could still stop it, you and me. That mark on your face—you’re
ahalad-kaaslane
now. We could do it.” He craned his neck up eagerly.

“Yes. Yes, I am.” Reisil took the scarf he’d given her and put it around his neck, tying it securely. “That’s why I am here. To put right what you have made wrong. There is no excuse, no reason in the world, that would justify what you’ve done.” She blinked away a tear. “I thought I might love you. I thought you might love me. But I was wrong, about so much.”

“And you’re wrong about this—the treaty must not happen!” Kaval insisted, the hope in his eyes turning to fear. Reisil shook her head.

“I have learned much on this journey. I trust in and I am guided by the Blessed Amiya, in this and all things.” She stopped, an ironic expression on her face. “I don’t want to do this, and I don’t like it, but it has to be done,” she said, in a conscious echo of his words a few moments before. “Now you must go to sleep, and when you wake, you will have the chance to confess and undo some of the harm that you’ve done before you pay the price. But I don’t think you can ever pay what you owe.”

Her voice was thick and shaking. She looked away for a moment, and then back. “Think about that, and pray to the Lady for guidance.”

With that Reisil put her fingers on his forehead and he slumped, asleep.

 

By nightfall they had trundled several leagues into the plain, trailing behind them a dark vein of bruised and bent grasses.

“Not much we can do about it. We’ll double the watch. We won’t have to put guards on the prisoners anymore. That will keep us fresher,” Edelsat said to Kebonsat as they considered making camp.

Far ahead, thousands of campfires flared like stars along the horizon as the sun dipped beneath edge of the world.

“I never imagined . . . How many are there?” Juhrnus said softly.

“Between the two armies? At least eight thousand, no doubt with more arriving every day,” Kebonsat answered, his voice expressionless.

Reisil shivered, thinking of the death the two massed armies could unleash on each other.

“There’s a hut.” One of the outriders had returned and spoke to Edelsat. Edelsat looked at Kebonsat, his eyebrows raised. “We’ve got to wash them somewhere. There’s bound to be a creek or spring close by. Couldn’t live out here otherwise.”

At Kebonsat’s nod of assent, Edelsat motioned for the outrider to lead the way.

To call the decrepit shack a hut was generous. It was a windowless box made of grass bound in bunches and tied together. Smoke drifted from a hole cut into the roof. The entire construction kilted sideways on the verge of falling down, held up, it seemed, by a stake of twisted wood that formed a doorpost, to which was fastened a grass door. Alongside the hut was a makeshift chicken coop, and beside it a garden, overgrown with weeds, the tomatoes and beans looking woebegone while the corn appeared stunted.

At the sound of so many riders in the cupped-out hollow, the door opened, revealing a dim orange glow and a cloud of black smoke smelling of burned grass. A sallow, nervous woman stepped forth, closing the door behind her. She stood with arms crossed over her breasts, her eyes wide and staring, her lips flat and bloodless.

Kebonsat dismounted. “Bright evening, madam. We have need of water and a campsite for the night.”

Before he could go further, she began to shake her head, her snaggled teeth biting off every word. “No. You must move on. There’s nothing here for you.”

But then there was a shout as Edelsat’s men found the spring.

“I’m afraid we must insist,” Kebonsat said gently, seeing the woman’s fear. “We’ll not harm you. And we will pay a fee for the use of the land and spring.”

The last caught the woman by surprise and she wavered. And no wonder, Reisil thought, as pitifully poor as she obviously was. Then she gave an ungracious nod and withdrew inside, closing the door firmly behind her.

Kebonsat led the way around back to the spring, which lay farther down in the basin of the hollow. Reisil marveled. The Vorshtar plain looked flat, but its tall grasses hid a surprising variety of terrain.

As they set up the camp and prepared dinner, the prisoners were unloaded. The springwater ran in a tiny rivulet down into the grasses and Edelsat had several of his men sluice them clean, not bothering to remove their clothing.

“It’ll help some, but when it gets hot, they’ll start to cook and smell again,” he warned Kebonsat.

“It will be long enough. By noon we should reach the edge of the camps. Father said we had eight days. That means the summit between Iisand Samir and Karalis Vasalis will happen tomorrow or the next day.”

“We should split up,” Reisil said suddenly. Sodur nodded, his mind jumping ahead of hers. She continued. “Sodur should head directly for Iisand Samir, tell him what’s happened. As
ahalad-kaaslane,
no Kodu Riikian will hinder him. And”—she looked first at Kebonsat, then Ceriba—“he should take Ceriba with him. She’ll be safer. The Guild will have a harder time getting to her in the Kodu Riik camp. Meantime, we should get the prisoners to your father,” she said to Kebonsat. “Juhrnus can go with Sodur—Esper can see farther in the wizard dark with the aid of torches. I can guide the rest of us when the wizard night falls.”

“You sound certain it will,” Edelsat said, his expression faintly skeptical.

“I am. It will.” She did not explain further, but Edelsat accepted her certainty and exchanged a glance with Kebonsat. Kebonsat looked strained.

“I don’t like it.”

“But she’s right,” Ceriba said in a low voice. “You know it. Besides, they know their plan failed. They’ll be expecting you and will try to stop you. I’ll be safer with Sodur—they won’t know where to look for me—and you won’t have to worry about protecting me.”

“And if we should fail, we’ll still have a knife in our boot,” Edelsat reasoned. “So long as your sister gets to the Iisand before the heavens fall, the war might be prevented. Even if we don’t make it.”

Kebonsat gritted his teeth, his jaws bunching as he stared at the ground. Then he nodded. “Then so be it.”

“We’ll leave tonight,” Sodur said. “As soon as we have eaten and the horses have rested. The sooner we can get there the better, and if anyone is following, they might not realize you are three less.”

Two hours later, Kebonsat hugged his sister and helped her mount.

“Take care of yourself,” he told her, holding her hand in both of his. “Don’t get into trouble.”

She bent and kissed his cheek, saying something in his ear Reisil couldn’t hear. Each of the three riders had torches strapped to their saddles. The waning moon cast shabby light, but it was enough to see by and they waded out into the grasses, Sodur in the lead, then Ceriba, and Juhrnus bringing up the rear.

The others bedded down as Edelsat set the watch. Reisil, however, felt edgy and itchy, like ants crawled beneath her skin. She paced into the darkness, starting at the sounds of crickets and the nickering of the horses to one another, her head twisting and turning as if to catch an elusive sound.