Oathblood v(vah-3 Read online

  But there were no dead that were not of the guards in Tilden's livery, so if any of the attackers had died, their bodies had been carted away. A bad sign. Whoever planned this was well organized, well armed, and with a lot of men. And it wasn't a simple bandit-raid. Not one guard had been left alive to send word of the massacre. Those horses that weren't dead were grouped together, heads down, exhausted -- not carried off with the bandits. The two ponies that Meri and Kira had ridden out on stood under a tree beside the road, sadly nosing through the snow and biting at the withered grass they found there.

  Nobody actually stopped to loot either, not even the gear on the dead and living horses. All the arms and armor, all the packs that belonged to the dead men, it's all still here. Just the girls and their packhorse, that's all that were taken, and I have to wonder if the packhorse wasn't grabbed just because they didn't want to take the time to unload the girls' stuff off him. If we hadn't had Need, nobody would have known this happened until some trader or farmer stumbled over the bodies -- and even then, no one would know that the girls were missing. Until Tilden came looking for them, that is.

  "Where now?" she asked Kethry.

  "South and west," she replied immediately. "More west than south."

  Well, that certainly corresponded with those telltale blood trails.

  Tarma sucked on her lower lip, and glanced up at the sky to the west. Behind the gray pall of clouds, the sun shone feebly, no more than a finger's-breadth above the horizon. The air was sharply cold, too cold for snow at this point, so for a while they could follow the clear trail left by the kidnappers. It would be dark soon -- and no time to act on her hunch that the kidnappers were about to drive straight south. At least, not in time to cut them off.

  "Stay on the pillion, Furball," she told a weary Warrl behind her. "I'll track them as long as I can see, then you take over until we can't ride anymore."

  But just as twilight faded, that became easier to do, for the tracks of the running horses in the unbroken snow were joined by the tracks of wheels. Warrl raised his nose for a quick investigation, as Tarma read the churned-up snow. The blood-trails ended where the wheel marks began, so the kidnappers had paused long enough to rough-bandage their wounds.

  :New men, here. They waited for some time while the others created their ambush and sprung it.:

  "So they had a wagon ready and waiting, and that's where they put the girls." She gritted her teeth. "Smart. You keep them completely under control and you don't have to worry about someone accidentally seeing them. Hard to explain a little girl trussed up like a chicken for the pot, but no one is likely to be curious about a prison-wagon. I wish to hell I knew who these people were! It would tell me a lot about why they've done this and what they want."

  "Surely ransom," Kethry ventured, but Tarma shook her head.

  "Not necessarily, she'enedra. This could be political, an attempt to force Tilden into a position he wouldn't otherwise take by holding his girls." She used a little mental discipline to keep herself calm so that she could think properly, as her battlemare responded to her unease by shifting her weight and looking around for the danger. "It could be political in another way, to make an example out of the girls, to show how ruthless these people can be. Hellfires, if there are still any of Char's old allies around, I'd count on them to be that ruthless. It could be religious; the Triune Goddess Priests have been getting their noses out of joint since there isn't an official state religion anymore."

  "It doesn't even have to have anything to do with Rethwellan," came the small, uncertain voice from behind her. As she turned to peer at Jadrie through the gloom, the girl swallowed but looked straight into Tarma's eyes and bravely continued her thought. "Merili is supposed to marry the Prince of Jkatha. And the kidnappers are going south. Maybe someone wants to force Queen Sursha to do something to get Meri back safe. You know she'd have to do something, especially if it's Jkathans that took Meri and Kira."

  "Damn. Out of the mouths of babes. Good thinking, kitten." And maybe I ought to be grateful that she's along.... Tarma shook her head, then tried to visualize where they were on a map. With a sinking feeling, she realized that if the kidnappers continued southward, they would quickly strike a major trade route, and the odds were high that they would be able to muddle or hide their trail there in the tracks of ongoing traffic.

  Which meant that the odds were high that they would strike straight south soon. Going across country to try at least to catch up was a better plan than it had seemed a few moments ago.

  Plots on plots -- what if someone wants the boy to marry his girl? Getting Tilden to forbid the marriage in order to get the girls back would do that, and Sursha doesn't even have to enter into it. What if they want to make a political incident out of this, between Jkatha and Rethwellan? Making it look as if Sursha is behind it could easily do that. The trouble is -- the trouble is -- a lot of these plots end in murders.

  "Warrl, we need you now," she told the kyree, and with a groan, he jumped down off the pillion-pad behind her into the ankle-deep snow. "We'll keep going as long as we can, then we'll stop for a rest and start as soon as there's light."

  "Footing?" Jadrie said hesitantly. "For the horses? Shouldn't we have some light?"

  Tarma followed in Warrl's wake before she answered, but this was practical knowledge for Jadrie. "If we didn't have Warrl, or if he was fresh, or if we were on anything but Shin'a'in horses, I would agree. Warrl is too tired to make more than a walk," she pointed out. "At that pace, we let the horses feel their own way. I don't want to advertise our presence with a light -- in conditions like this, you could see a light for leagues. Plus if the kidnappers have a mage, he might be able to sense a mage-light."

  There was no more comment from Jadrie, so Tarma put the child out of her mind, and let Warrl lead them all onward, as the horses placed their hooves with deliberate care.

  At this point, she wasn't anything more than a passenger; she folded her arms and rucked her hands into her belt, let her head sag, and dozed. If the damned sword wasn't making life too difficult for Kethry, she knew her partner was doing the same. Catch sleep whenever you can. The mares and Warrl would warn of danger long before it was visible, and they were too far behind the kidnappers for there to be any likelihood of stumbling into their camp. Of course Jadrie wasn't going to nap, and shouldn't, because she didn't have a battlemare, only a Shin'a'in-bred saddlemare. But Jadrie also had two advantages over her elders -- the first, that she wasn't expected to fight or track later and didn't need the extra sleep, and the second that she was decades younger than either Tarma or her mother and could go longer on less rest.

  The horses plodded on into the thick darkness, as Tarma roused herself roughly every candlemark or so to check their bearings by Kethry and Need. As she had expected, some time within the first candlemark after darkness fell, the kidnappers turned south, and were probably on the trade road into Jkatha right at that moment. Probably camped. I hope the girls are all right, at least for now. It was some comfort to know that they were in a wagon, probably locked in there, and that the people who'd taken them were trained and disciplined. If all they were was terrified -- well, they could get over simple terror. There were other things that could happen to little girls that were harder to get over.

  Including being murdered.

  It was just after midnight that Warrl stumbled over a snow-covered branch, and admitted, :I'm done in, mindmate. We have to rest now. The track still says nothing has happened to the girls, and I can't go any further.:

  Both mares stopped when Warrl did, and Jadrie's horse only went another pace or two further than that. "Right. We're stopping, Keth," Tarma called.

  Kethry grunted a vague reply, and shook herself awake. As she and Tarma slid stiffly out of their saddles, Kethry kindled a very dim mage-light and Tarma looked around for a suitable campsite. There wasn't much, out here in an area of rolling hills mostly covered with scrub and very rough grasses, but a half-circle of snow-covered bushes
gave a certain amount of protection from wind and watchers. She got Jadrie to help set up the tiny tent, and Kethry got out grain for the horses and took over the three packs and extinguished the light. Then, while Kethry laid blankets down on the floor and tucked their packs inside for safekeeping, Jadrie and Tarma unsaddled the horses, rubbed them down, and gave them their rations. She didn't need to hobble the battlemares, for they wouldn't wander, and to keep Jadrie's mare from strolling off, she simply fastened her halter to Ironheart's.

  The tent was very small, but big enough for all three of them to lie down together, with a little room to spare for luggage. As Tarma had known she would, Kethry had set up a spell to keep it warm all night long, without a fire. She'd also done something to make the tent poles glow faintly (a glow that couldn't be seen from outside through the canvas) so that they could see to keep feet out of faces. Their blankets were to pad the tent floor beneath them, and to keep the cold from seeping into their bodies from below, not for warmth. It was possible that a mage could sense all this, but these were very minor magics, and well within the scope of just about any earth-witch or hedge-wizard.

  Without being asked, Jadrie brought in a leather pail full of snow, and rucked it into the comer to thaw, then took one of the outside positions. Tarma took the other, putting Kethry into the "protected" position between them -- but then Warrl wriggled into the tent, somehow getting into the available space (what there was of it) and put himself between Jadrie and the tent wall. Kethry gave each of them a strip of dried meat and a piece of hard journey bread; they ate in silence and warmth and passed the water-skin back and forth until the thirst roused by salt-dried meat and bricklike bread was gone. Kethry extinguished the glow of the tent poles, and the silence seemed even deeper.

  Then Kethry took a deep breath, and Tarma knew she was going to say something.

  "You've been quiet, you've kept up, you've obeyed orders, and when you've said something, it's been sensible," the mage said softly into the darkness, and all of them knew which "you" was meant. "You've been a help instead of a hindrance."

  "Thank you," Jadrie said in a small voice.

  "I'm not glad you're here, kitten -- and all you have to do is think back on the ambush to know why." Her voice broke a little. "The idea that something like that could happen to you has me in knots. You're only a child. You aren't supposed to be seeing things like that."

  Tarma heard jadrie swallow, then she said, "But -- I already have. How can we be sheltered when we're your children?"

  "She's got you there, Greeneyes," Tarma said dryly.

  "I promise, I promise, that unless you tell me to do otherwise, when we find these people, I'm going to stay far enough behind that I can run if I have to." Jadrie paused and then said, in a new and tearful voice, "But you have to promise that you won't let anything like that happen to you!"

  It was almost a wail, and Kethry caught her daughter up in her arms, as Tarma grabbed a free hand and squeezed it.

  "I can promise we'll try, kitten," Kethry said, in a voice nearly as hoarse as Tarma's.

  And with that, they all sought uneasy sleep, and were exhausted enough to find it.

  * * *

  When you're sick, riding in a wagon is really a bad idea. By the time darkness fell, the seeds they'd eaten had taken full effect, and Kira really did feel sick; her stomach churned, there was a fat lump in her throat that kept making her gag, and her mouth felt sour and dry. In fact, she wasn't sure now that she could manage to keep her nausea under control much longer, which could make things really nasty in there. When the wagon stopped, she pounded on the door, and put desperation into her voice.

  "Please!" she wailed, and fought back the nausea. "Let us out! We're sick!"

  Footsteps creaked on snow just outside the door. "What do you mean, sick?" asked a suspicious voice from the other side.

  "Please! I'm going to throw up!" she gulped, beginning to retch a little in spite of herself, and the door opened immediately.

  "If you're faking--" the man began, but had no further chance to say anything, for Kira couldn't control her heaving stomach anymore, and threw up at his feet. He jumped back just in time to avoid being splattered, cursing.

  "I'm-sorry-" She clapped her hand over her mouth, as tears rolled down her face from the pain of her bruised stomach muscles. He kicked snow over the mess and lifted her and Meri out with surprising care, seeing as she'd almost thrown up on him. Maybe he just didn't want to have to dodge the mess again.

  I don't think he's angry, though.... "Please-" Meri gasped. "-where?" He pointed, and they ran for the bushes at the side of the camp, where they rid themselves of the dreadful little seeds, and everything else that was in their stomachs. Both of them were chilled, shaking and weak when they finished. Kira filled her mouth over and over with snow, spitting it out again to rid herself of that awful taste, and Meri did the same. Her hands shook, her head ached, and her stomach muscles were so sore she wanted to just lie down in the snow and never get up again. But she did, even though her knees threatened to collapse as she helped her twin to her feet. No one asked if they were all right, or came to help them.

  But no one kept them from going to the fire instead of the wagon either, and they huddled together as close to the warmth as they could, eyes half-closed, holding hands. Surely the way they looked now would keep anyone from thinking they had it in them to try and escape. But now that the seeds were gone, every passing moment brought a little more relief and strength.

  In spite of the -- now ebbing -- nausea, Kira saw quite a bit behind her eyelashes. They were on a road, or rather, in a camp just off of a road, so it was a good thing that she'd been dropping silk and beads were about twenty men in this group, which seemed like an awful lot to kidnap two little girls.

  The man who'd let them out came over and poked Kira with his toe. "Hey, why're you sick?" he asked gruffly. He didn't seem unkind; in fact, there was some concern on his unshaven face. Although he wasn't anyone she would have picked for a friend, she sensed they might have a reluctant ally.

  It was Meri who answered. "A lot of the students were sick before we left," she replied in a thin and weak-sounding voice. "I didn't think we'd get it, but I guess we did." She shivered and said in a half-moan, "I feel awful. I want to go home!"

  "I told you there was nothing to worry about. It's just some childish ailment, and it will pass off in a day or so." The irritated voice out of the dark beyond the fire was a new one, and had an odd accent. Kira didn't place it, but Meri did.

  She put her head down on Kira's shoulder, and pressed her mouth up near Kira's ear, as if she couldn't hold her head up any longer, "Jkathan," she whispered, a mere thread of sound.

  The man who'd helped them seemed to feel a little sorry for them now; he hovered over them both for a moment, then went a few paces off and returned with a huge fur rug -- a bit motheaten and bare in patches, but warm. He wrapped it around both of them, and actually tucked it in awkwardly.

  "I don't s'pose you want anything to eat?" he asked. "Beans ain't done, but they're cooking in broth, you could have a bowl of that an' bread."

  Kira's gorge rose at the mere thought of eating, and she shook her head as violently as she dared. Right now, though, she'd have traded every valuable she had ever owned for a mug of willow tea for her aching head.

  "Just sit there an' get warm, an' when you wanta sleep, take the rug into the wagon with you. I don' need it," he said gruffly, and left them alone.

  There was a pot on the fire in front of them, which Kira's nose told her was the one that held the broth and some simmering beans; next to the fire was a stack of joumeybread, and a stack of bowls beside it. Good; the little seeds wouldn't stand out in a pot of beans. Hopefully, before they got chased into the wagon, her stomach would settle and she could slip the seeds into the pot under cover of getting bowls of broth for herself and Meri. If this was a camp like any other, the beans were for breakfast, as it would take that long for them to soften in the cook
ing enough to eat.

  Meanwhile, she and Meri pretended to doze as sick children do, and she watched as much of the camp as she could see without moving her head. Slowly, her stomach settled; slowly her headache went away. The cold air helped, and so did the fact that they weren't moving anymore.

  Although these men were dressed roughly, they didn't act like anything other than a well-trained group, accustomed to working together -- so the shabby clothing they had over their armor must have been a disguise. Three of them quickly put up a small but luxurious tent, got coals from the fire for a brazier to heat it, and brought in a generous amount of bedding, before arranging their own bedding beside the fire. Kira got a brief look at the tent's owner before he went inside and laced the door shut; he wasn't shabbily dressed, and she thought he was the owner of the Jkathan accent.

  The rest of the men seemed to relax a little when he went inside his own little quarters, though they studiously ignored the girls' presence. Some of them had been hurt in the fight, and they took this opportunity to get each other bandaged properly. Kira was obscurely grateful that she hadn't known any of her own guards; it would have been horrible to sit there watching these people patch themselves up, while wondering which of them had been the murderer of someone she knew.