Will Shetterly - Witch Blood (27 page)

I jumped from the landing, another fifteen feet or so, and had to steady myself with my right hand. As soon as I touched, I stood, snatched a throwing dart from my belt, and whipped it into the face of the woman closest to me. It caught her in one eye, and she stumbled.

The remaining two moved to pass me on either side, thinking that I would pick one while the other reached the gate. I chose the unwounded one, a boy with a young face. Our encounter was nothing a poet would want to write about, not a duel that occurred between two warriors who found privacy in the midst of battle. I feinted with the axe, then took the boy with a thrust of the short sword to his throat.

The wounded woman was almost to the gate. Had I been kinder, I might have let her touch it. I threw the axe at the back of her helmet, and she fell forward. Then, because I had no rope or time to tie any of them, I stabbed each of the three in the back to be sure they were dead.

More intruders were on the southwest wall, yet the assault on the front gate continued. I noticed that Iron Eyes kept several warriors away from Fat Cat, who stripped himself of armor and clothing. I had seen greater acts of insanity on battlefields before, so I did not watch longer. Dovriex was using a pike like a staff to keep several of the Konds from approaching our bowmen by the gate. The rest of our guards on the southwest wall were busy in a desperate game of pushing away ladders.

The next part of the battle is still a blur to me. I went to Dovriex’s aid, and then, for long minutes, we fought back Komaki’s forces. A plump panther helped to create chaos, initially for our side as much as for the other. Feschian sent Avarineo and a few more fighters to join us, and we battled with no more strategy than tavern brawlers, though the results were far deadlier. At last, when witches were the only ones left alive on the walls of Castle Gromandiel, eight of our people lay dead and three more were seriously wounded.

Feschian, watching the retreat, said, “If they’d continued the attack for five minutes more—”

“Don’t undervalue us,” I said. “Six.” I let my axe fall to the ground and slumped down to sit. The sun was close to setting. The air was cold. Iron Eyes was dead, and Fat Cat, naked and human, cradled the fencer’s head in his lap as he cried. Livifal or Sivifal was badly wounded. She might not live out the night. The girl who had lamented the loss of the boy with the twitch now had an arm to add to her losses. I saw Dovriex by the rocksmith’s body and remembered the woman’s daughter who waited in the main keep.

Feschian said, “What are you singing?”

“The death song.”

“Who for?”

“All of us.”

18

“
WILL THEY ATTACK
after dark?” I asked Feschian.

“There’s a saying, never fright a witch at night. I doubt they’ll dare visit us this evening. We’ll still have guards out, of course.”

I nodded. “You never know when they might change an old saying.”

I helped Dovriex carry his sister into the castle. The dining hall had become the new infirmary, since it was on the ground floor and the nearby kitchens could provide food and fresh water. Kivakali bustled about as though the witches were her own people, speaking a few words of comfort to one and bringing a bedpan to another.

One of the red-haired twins came over to us. When she saw who we bore, she gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. I felt as if this would all be easier if I knew which one we carried and which stood before us. Dovriex said, “Sivifal, I’m...” His words trailed off. I discovered that knowledge only made me feel worse.

Sivifal pointed at a number of mattresses that had been dragged into the room. Most were occupied by the wounded, and a few by the dead. “Put her there.” Her tone mixed urgency and efficiency, saying clearly that she would treat her sister like all her other patients.

Naiji sat with her hands on the brow of the girl who had lost an arm. Both had their eyes closed, but then Naiji opened hers. “Rifkin.”

I gestured at the girl. “Is she—”

Naiji closed her eyes again, then said “No.” She looked at me and shook her head. “You need bandaging.”

“Later,” I said.

“Now.”

“Yes, Lady.”

We moved away from the dead girl. I took off my coat and let Naiji wash my chest. I tried not to wince.

“Were there as many scars on this body when you first occupied it?”

“None.”

“You should treat borrowed things better than you do.”

“Perhaps.”

“Da’s dead.”

I turned to stare at her. She nodded.

“I hadn’t heard.”

“I haven’t either.”

“But how—”

“He and I, we...” Her voice was close to breaking, so I took her hand in mine and held it.

“We shared similar gifts, Rifkin. He was the stronger mind-speaker, but my skills at sensing were...” She paused often, almost after every word. Each time, I thought she would cry, but she did not. “My skills were like his. Once I fell down in the woods, and Da came to find me. I never thought it meant anything more than, well, fathers do that.”

I nodded.

“And once he was away for weeks. I woke in the middle of a night, convinced that something terrible had happened to him. When he came back, he said robbers had beaten him and left him for dead. But I never thought we were linked until...” She held me with her gaze. “Until I felt him go.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You hated him.”

“I didn’t know him.”

“No,” she said. “You didn’t.”

We remained there for a moment, holding hands. Someone moaned, and Naiji went to help.

I found Dovriex in the kitchens, tending something in a kettle. “Smells like venison,” I said.

“It is. Stew.”

“That’ll be nice.”

“If there was more time, I’d fix something better.”

“Stew’ll be nice.”

“I was saving some mushrooms.”

“I like mushrooms,” I said.

“I’ll use a lot, then.”

“Your sister is...”

He glanced at me.

“She’s still alive, Dovriex. That’s not much, but it’s something.”

“She never liked mushrooms.”

“Don’t use them if—”

“I’ll use them. This dinner will be my masterpiece, Rifkin.”

“I’m sure it will.”

“If I had more time, I’d bake something.”

“That’s all right. Everyone likes stew. Especially venison stew.”

“Rum and raisin pudding for dessert,” Dovriex said. “Livifal loved my rum and raisin pudding. ”

I left the kitchens wishing he would just fix the damned porridge again.

The dead were being taken to the cellar. Feschian carried Mondivinaw by herself. We put each body on a blanket on the cool stone floor and left them there. I wondered if Komaki’s soldiers would bury us if they won, or bum us. I did not know what northerners did with their dead, but I saw that they cared, and cried as freely as any Ladizhan. Fat Cat mourned there, with the rocksmith’s daughter and several others. I fled that room as quickly and as discreetly as I could.

Feschian followed me. We walked in silence until I said, “How many left?”

“That can fight?”

I nodded.

“Counting the hearth cat?”

“If it’ll fight.”

Feschian ticked off names on her fingers. “You. Me. Avarineo. Dovriex. Sivifal. Fat Cat. Kivakali.” She caught my glance and said, “You asked how many could fight, not would. Evrian, Thessaval, and Baldriath. They’re members of the castle guard, and competent.”

“That’s all?”

“There are a few others who would die well, but fight badly. And there’re the children.”

“How many of them?”

“Seven.”

“What about Talivane?”

“You saw his hands. When he comes to, he’ll be next to useless.”

“Naiji couldn’t heal him?”

“She uses her magic sparingly. She’s saved several from death today, Rifkin.”

“Still—”

“She can’t pick favorites. Could you?”

“No.” Part of me thought that Naiji had done no kindnesses for those she saved. Another part said that she would have done better to help her brother, so he could help those of us who still lived. And another part said it did not matter. Komaki would try once or twice more to storm Castle Gromandiel. If those attempts failed, he would wait while we starved, and laugh whether Talivane sent ten thousand lightning bolts at his soldiers or not.

Dinner was a dismal affair. We ate in the kitchen, since the dining hall was taken by the wounded. At times the quiet would be broken by a groan or a request from the other room. In the middle of dessert Avarineo held up a spoonful of rum and raisin pudding and said, “This is good stuff! Dovriex should fix this stuff every day!”

We all ignored him. Avarineo looked sad, but he still asked for seconds.

I toured the walls alone. Our guard posts were parodies of defense. The watchers were too tired to watch well and too far apart to watch efficiently. When I returned to my room, Naiji was naked in my sheets. I sat on the edge of the pallet and held her while she cried. “We’re all going to die,” she finally whispered. “Aren’t we? Aren’t we?”

I undressed slowly, being careful of my bandages. “Turn over,” I said.

“Why?”