04c Dreams of Fire and Gods: Gods (13 page)

Part of Sael was repelled by anyone who would so readily betray his so-called friends. But as the
dekan
, he could hardly punish Vosik for coming to him with his news. On the contrary, he would likely have to reward the man, as loathsome as that seemed.

“They simply told us to gather after the bells,” Vosik continued. “Of course, I would never consider joining them, Your Lordship.”

“Of course.”

Geilin stepped forward then and said, “Might I suggest, Master Vosik, that you
do
join them? After all, were you to refuse to meet them, it would certainly raise suspicions.”

Vosik looked flustered. “Well, I…. If His Lordship wishes me to do so, certainly….”

“Yes,” Sael said. “I think that would be best. I will see to it that the escape is thwarted. And of course you will be absolved of any wrongdoing in the matter.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

There was little left to say, so he bowed and retreated.

“Now what?” Sael asked his old mentor as he sagged back into his chair by the fire. “Shall we send the guards to round them all up?”

“
Iinyeh
Sael….”

It wasn’t Geilin’s voice. Sael leapt out of his chair and spun to face the Taaweh who’d suddenly appeared in the room. Geilin looked no more pleased than he to see the intruder. The Taaweh were allies, but their slipping in and out of shadows when people were trying to discuss private matters was growing tiresome.

“What can I do for you,
iinyeh
?” Sael asked.

The man was dressed in the dark shadow robe and cowl many Taaweh wore, and it shrouded his face. Not that Sael was likely to have recognized him anyway. With the exception of the physician who’d attended him during his recovery, he’d seldom seen the same Taaweh more than once.

The man stepped forward. “There is a young man among the
caedan
who will be escaping with the
vönan
. The Iinu Shavi requests that you do not interfere with the escape until he has separated himself from the party.”

“Why?” Geilin asked.

“That is uncertain. However, this man could be quite dangerous, if you were to attempt to restrain him.”

K
OREH
had expected the mist to eventually lift, but it had lingered for well over a sennight. If anything, it grew thicker the farther west he traveled. He also hadn’t seen any villages or so much as a single house or traveler on the road during that entire time. He was moving a little faster now, riding on Sek’s back, and even with frequent rests to avoid wearying the horse, they must have covered almost a hundred leagues without seeing a sign of human habitation. Koreh was beginning to wonder if they’d reached the end of Bashyeh after all.

Then they came to a fork in the road, and Koreh tapped the reins lightly against Sek’s neck to turn down the right-hand path. Sek turned left.

Koreh was a bit surprised, since the horse was generally obedient. Koreh pulled back on the reins to stop him, but again he was ignored. Sek wasn’t exactly “out of control,” since he continued to walk at a sedate pace, but he clearly wanted to go down the left-hand path. Since it didn’t particularly matter to Koreh, he allowed the horse to go where he wanted to go.

He let Sek carry him down the road until what little of the sky he could see through the leaves overhead began to grow dark. Then, without any prompting from Koreh, the horse wandered off the road onto a wide grassy area and stopped walking.

“Time to camp for the night?” Koreh asked, amused. He slid off the horse and stretched, then rubbed his aching backside. He glanced around the clearing, hoping to see some deadfall branches he might build a fire out of, but he was distracted by a faint noise. It sounded like a cry. Or perhaps a shout. But it was definitely human.

Koreh froze, listening intently for the sound to repeat itself.

The wind sighed through the trees, and a crow cawed somewhere off to Koreh’s right, sounding muffled in the mist. He wondered for a moment if that was the sound he’d heard. But no… there it was again. A man was screaming… something. Perhaps it was a name, though Koreh couldn’t quite make it out.

He untied his walking stick from where he’d lashed it to Sek’s saddle and brandished it like a fighting staff as he moved into the forest, trying to locate the man. Fortunately, Sek made no move to follow him. It occurred to Koreh that it would be handier to have a Taaweh staff, rather than just his walking stick. In all the time he’d dwelt in Bashyeh, he’d never felt he was in danger. After all, he couldn’t
die
here. At least, he didn’t think that was possible. But now the eerie cries in the mist were filling him with apprehension.

The walking stick stubbornly refused to transform itself into a weapon. Koreh looked directly at it and willed it to become a Taaweh staff, but it remained just an oak walking stick.

Koreh frowned and gave up. The stick would have to do if he needed to defend himself and Sek.

He moved quietly, using a way of walking he’d learned from the Taaweh, so his footsteps on the dead leaves made no sound at all. An incoherent shout came from somewhere up ahead, slightly off to his left, so Koreh turned toward it. It was definitely the sound of a man, but he sounded crazed.

“Tanaah!” the voice screamed, or something like it. Koreh couldn’t make it out. And the deeper into the forest he went, the thicker the fog became, until he grew fearful of getting completely lost.

Suddenly, Koreh was hit from the side, strong arms latching around his waist as he staggered and fell into the soft leaves. A large man landed on top of him and yelled into his ear, “Where is she?”

Instinctively, Koreh dropped into the ground to escape his attacker. When he bobbed up out of the forest floor about twenty feet away, he saw the man thrashing around in the leaves, as if searching for him. Perhaps it would have been wise to return to Sek and leave this place, but Koreh was confident he could escape this bizarre man, if necessary. He was curious to see if he was truly a lunatic or if there was something behind his odd behavior.

“Who are you looking for?” he asked.

The man’s reaction was violent. He spun around and for just a moment, Koreh found himself staring directly into long-lashed green eyes that were shockingly reminiscent of Sael’s. Then the man screamed and launched himself across the clearing at him. Koreh sidestepped him easily, and the man stumbled and fell into the leaves again.

But the sight of those eyes had shaken him. He slipped into the shadows, where he could watch the man scramble up and dart around the clearing, shouting for him to show himself. The man was taller than Sael, and his nose and jaw were more angular, but his soft curls of blond hair were also eerily similar to Sael’s. It was as if a slightly older version of Sael were running around, acting like a raving lunatic. The sight was extremely unsettling.

But at last Koreh realized who this had to be. Of course.

“Seffni,” he said quietly.

The man froze at the sound of the name and slowly turned around, scanning the forest for whoever had spoken. But his eyes still seemed somehow unfocused and his expression dark, so Koreh remained hidden.

“Who?” the man asked. He seemed confused.

“Isn’t that your name? Seffni?”

The man squinted and gritted his teeth, as if thinking about this pained him. “My name? I don’t… I don’t remember….”

He fell silent for a long moment, and Koreh began to worry he might have made a mistake. If this lunatic wasn’t really Seffni, telling him he was might very well make his madness worse. But eventually, the man said, as if in a dream, “Seffni
dönz
Menaük, eighty-sixth
dekan
of Harleh and heir to the
veikit
of Worlen….”

“Yes,” Koreh agreed, though it was no longer accurate to say Seffni was the heir. Seffni stood motionless, looking as though he might weep. When he said nothing more, Koreh asked, “Why are you out here, Seffni? What are you searching for?”

Seffni started, as though he’d been lost in his thoughts. “Tanum,” he said.

“Tanum isn’t here, Seffni.”

“Where have you taken her?” Seffni snarled, suddenly angry again. He whirled around, peering into the mist, but it had thickened to the point where it was difficult to see anything beyond fifty feet in any direction.

“Nobody’s taken her anywhere. She’s still in Harleh.”

Seffni froze again. “Harleh….”

“You remember Harleh, don’t you?”

“Of course I remember Harleh! I’m the
dekan
of Harleh!”

“But this isn’t Harleh, is it?”

“No…,” Seffni replied, speaking carefully. “I’ve been… trying to find it… trying to find Tanum….”

Suddenly the fight seemed to leave him, and he collapsed to his knees in the leaves and began sobbing. Koreh watched in silence for a moment, until he could no longer bear it. Seffni looked too much like Sael for Koreh to stand by and watch him suffer. He stepped out of the shadows a good distance away and approached Seffni slowly through the mist.

Seffni looked up at the sound of his footsteps and asked, “Why are you tormenting me?”

“I’m not here to torment you, Seffni,” Koreh replied gently. “I’m here to help you.”

“To help me find Tanum?”

Koreh wasn’t sure what he could do to help Seffni, or even why he’d said that. But he knew he couldn’t just leave the man to his suffering. He knelt in front of the man and looked him directly in the eye. “There are things I need to explain to you. Come and join me at my campfire.”

M
ARIK
’
S
men were restless. They sat at broad tables along the sidewalls, talking among themselves in low voices, and casting suspicious glances at Marik, as she watched them from her raised dais with eyes that burned with an unnatural blue light. Thuna stood to one side of her high seat, and her presence was likely no less disturbing to them, as she was still clothed in the black robes of an
ömem
.

Donegh had brought the
vek
to Marik’s back room, and they watched from there, hidden for the moment.

They’re plotting something
, Donegh thought.

Marik’s voice came to him inside his head, as the
ömem
had done in the past. That small return to familiarity offered him some comfort, at least.
Of course they are
, she told him.
They’re thieves and cutthroats. They grumble and scheme and plot, but nothing will come of it. Few of them want to lead
. She paused a moment and then added,
Though you’d best be on your guard. They won’t soon forget how you made fools of them, and some aren’t above knifing you in the back over it.

Nice company you keep.

Marik didn’t answer, but a sly smile crept across her face. With her eyes burning like phosphorus, the effect was chilling. And it was yet another reason the men were uneasy, Donegh knew. Marik had explained as much as possible about the new magic she’d learned, swearing the men to secrecy. There had to be some explanation to prepare them for traveling to the capital through the ground, but of course the more she told them, the more unsettled they became. Few were religious men, but most were smart enough to realize that this “new magic” would be condemned as evil by the temple. It unnerved them. No doubt Marik was aware of that, but it appeared not to concern her.

Kessikh may have been embarrassed by his defeat earlier, but he was still strutting around as if he thought he was in charge. Donegh had been watching him closely. Now Kessikh approached the dais to ask Marik, “When exactly is this… job ye’ve been telling us about ’upposed to go down?”

“Tomorrow,” Marik answered flatly.

Kessikh snorted, as if the idea was ludicrous. “Tomorrow night?”

“No. Tomorrow afternoon.”

“Wha’? In broad daylight?”

“Yes,” a deep, sonorous voice announced. “In broad daylight.”

Worlen had stepped past Donegh and was now standing in the darkened doorway. He took another step into the room, and as the candlelight illuminated his features, the men jumped to their feet, knives and rapiers drawn. Marik merely chuckled, still smiling as though she’d planned this little trick.

Heedless of the weapons brandished near him, Worlen walked calmly into the center of the room. “I’m not going to go down in history as the man who snuck into the emperor’s chambers and knifed him in his sleep,” he told Kessikh. “Much as it might amuse me.”

“Ye’d rather go down in history as the man who got chopped into bite-sized chunks by the palace guard before ’e e’er reached the throne room?” Kessikh asked Worlen. He regarded the
vek
with a look of contempt.

“Kessikh!” Marik said. “Perhaps you don’t know who you’re addressing.”

“I know who ’e is,” Kessikh said contemptuously. “I should’a known ’e’d be behind all of this. And I know ’e’d like as not toss me into ’is dungeon, afore ’e’d ask for my ’elp—’less ’e was desperate.”

“I may have been banished from the royal court,” Marik said with a quiet tone of menace in her voice, “but I haven’t lost all semblance of civility. And I have no grievance with the
vek
. You will bow to him and address him properly.” She made no attempt to bow herself, still clinging to her status as an
ömem
, though she no longer truly was one.

Kessikh ignored her command, stepping toward the
vek
. “So wha’ are ye offerin’,
vek
, that’d make me wanta ’elp you, eh?”

He was a large man and taller than Worlen, though the latter showed no sign of being intimidated. “You are to address me as ‘Your Grace,’” he said coolly, “if you wish to survive the night.”

“Nah, I don’ think so. You ’ave no power ’ere. This is
our
kingdom.”

At that, a general chorus of agreement rose up from the men, who shouted and banged their tankards against the wooden tables or raised their knives and swords in a gesture of solidarity. In the midst of this, the
vek
continued to regard Kessikh with an icy glare and when he spoke again, his voice could be heard clearly above the din. “Marik, please curb your dogs.”