The wind blew a strand of black hair forward over his face; it tickled his nose and he sneezed. And opened his eyes.
He rolled over, dislodging Ailiki.
She gave an explosive treble snort and lalloped across to the ponies; she jumped onto the saddle and sat watching the man with vast disapproval as he pushed himself up and ran his eyes over Korimenei.
“I know you. At least…” He moved his shoulders, felt at his leg, looked round at the splatters of blood and forgot what he’d been saying. “I owe you one, Saiiri.”
Korimenei laughed. “Three.”
“Huh? Ah! Your point.” He narrowed his very blue eyes, inspected her more closely. “Kori?”
“It’s Korimenei these days.”
“Does that mean you’ve taken a husband?”
“No husband. I travel alone.” She stood, fumbled in the pocket of her coat for her gloves. He knows me as Kori, she thought, I haven’t been called Kori for ten years, ten… god’s blood, I DO know him. She glanced at him again. I think I know him.
He struggled onto his feet, grimacing at his weakness; it would take time to replace the flesh he’d lost in healing and the blood that’d leaked out of him. “I see you didn’t stay home and marry one of your cousins. How’s your brother? Don’t tell me he got taken in the Lot?”
“Daniel?” She stared at the thick wavy hair; it was part of him, she’d stripped poison from those strands. “But you were…”
“Bald? That I was. And you were a child?”
“Ten years ago. One ceases to be a child in the ordinary course of time. Bald heads don’t grow new crops.”
A brow shot up, giving him a quizzical look. “And one turns a hair pedantic, it seems.”
She sighed. “So I’ve been told. If you’re stuck in a school ten years, it can do that to you. Even school doesn’t grow hair.”
“A sorceror can grow hair anywhere he wants, didn’t you know?”
“But you weren’t…” She stepped close to him, flattened her hand against his chest. “But you are.” She stepped back, disturbed. “Why didn’t I smell it before when I was working on you? And now…”
“Long story.” Waves of shudders were passing through his body; she could see the muscles knotting beside his mouth as he fought to control the shaking of his jaw. She glanced at the sky, located the watery blur that was the sun. At least three hours of light left. On the one hand, she didn’t want to waste that much travel time; on the other, Daniel was in no condition to go anywhere. No coat, nothing but that odd vest she remembered more vividly than she did the man, now that she thought of it. A vest with two new holes in it, which wouldn’t help it turn the wind.
“You can tell it later.” She walked to the ponies, her irritation audible in the staccato crunch of her feet. “We’ll stay here until tomorrow morning. While I’m getting camp set up, you cut find some wood for the fire. The work’ll warm you up a bit.” Her hand on the saddle, she looked over her shoulder at him. “If you’re up to it.”
“If you’ve got an axe, my teeth just won’t do it.” His voice sounded strained, but he finished with a quick twitch of a smile.
“Fool.” She relaxed, reminded of the days in the cart, him telling stories, listening to her chatter, playing his flute for her and the other children. “No axe, just a hatchet which you can curse all you want with my blessing.” She began working on the straps that held it, doing some of her own cursing at the stiff, reluctant leather and the clumsiness of her gloved fingers. “I saw plenty of downwood as I came through the trees. Ah!” She caught the hatchet as it fell, held it out to him. “Better you than me. I put an edge on this thing last night. That should last about three cuts.”
He took the haft between thumb and forefinger, gave her another of those twitchy smiles and marched off, vanishing under the trees.
“Right. Aili, I’ll get the canvas. You chase the ponies to a place where we can camp.”
5
The fire crackled vigorously, hissing now and then as the heat from it loosened a fall of snow from the branches high overhead. “Settsimaksimin decided I had Talent so he flipped me over to Silili, sponsored me at a school and made sure I stayed put until I Passed Out.” Korimenei pulled the blanket closer about her, sipped at the cooling tea in her mug. “Why I’m here, now, I’m going home. You?”
“Things happen, I get booted about.” He was using her spare mug; he cradled it between his hands, frowned down at the inch of cooling tea it held. “Why not.” He lifted his head. “Remember Ahzurdan?” You met him at the Blue Seamaid when you went to see the Drinker of Souls.”
She stared at him. Inky shadows cast by the fire emphasized the jut of his nose, his high angular cheekbones. His face changed and changed again with every shift of shadow. It was like looking at one of those trick drawings where background and foreground continually shift, where a vase-becomes two profiles then a vase again. “I remember,” she murmured. “Who are you?”
“Daniel Akamarino. Ahzurdan. Both and neither. Call me Danny Blue.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Like I said, it’s a long story.”
“Well, what have we got but time?”
“All right. Chained God… remember him?”
“How could I forget?”
“Right. He wanted a weapon to aim at Settsimaksimin. He made one. He took a sorceror and a starman and hammered the two men into one. Me. You might call Daniel and Ahzurdan my sires. In a way.”
“That’s not long, just weird.” She wrapped her hand in the blanket, took the kettle from the coals at the edge of the fire and filled her mug. “Want more?”
“Better not if I intend to sleep tonight.”
She sipped at the tea and thought about what he’d just told her. No wonder Tre was frightened of the god and wanted Frunzacoache to protect him. Does he know about this? She sneaked a look at Danny Blue. This abomination? He didn’t say anything, but then he wouldn’t, not where the god could hear him. She clung to a moment’s hope, maybe her brother wasn’t the way he sounded, maybe… no, don’t be a fool, woman. She took too sudden a mouthful, spat it out, her tongue felt singed, “Did you know you were rotten with poison?”
“I know.” He lifted a brow. “The past tense is the proper tense, I hope?”
“Very proper. I can’t abide a half-done job. Blackmail?”
“Mmm-hmm. Bring us the talisman Klukesharna and we give you the antidote, that’s what they said.”
She looked quickly at him, looked away. Another Great One being snatched. She slid her hand inside her shirt, touched Frunzacoache. It felt warm, it seemed to seek her fingers as if it wanted to be stroked. I wonder, she thought Kushundallian told us They get restless sometimes, They go through a period of dormancy, then They start moving, going from hand to hand until They feel like settling down again. Hmm. “You don’t have Klukesharna.”
“Not now.”
“I see. Hence the feathering.”
“You got it.”
“You can’t have been lying there more than an hour before I found you, you’d be dead otherwise. You could go after whoever took it. Will you?”
“No. That’s trouble I don’t need. Or want.”
“Hmm.” She looked down; she’d been playing with Frunzacoache all this time without noticing what she was doing. Either he wasn’t the chosen or the person who took it had enough gnom to overpower a fresh link. She thought about asking, decided better not. “Have you decided what you’re going to do now?”
He didn’t answer for several minutes; finally, he tossed down the rest of his tea, set the mug by his foot. “She left my coin, all she took was Klukesharna. I need a horse and winter gear. Where’s the nearest settlement?”
She, Korimenei thought. He knows who shot him. I suppose that’s his business. “There’s a Gsany village a day’s ride south of here.”
“You said you’re for Cheonea?”
“The Vales. My Vale. Owlyn Vale.” She spoke slowly, tasting the words, finding pleasure in the feel of them in her mouth. I’m going home, she thought. Home.
Danny Blue yawned, went back to brooding at the fire. His face was drawn and weary. Khorimenei watched him a while, wondering what he was thinking about; it wasn’t pleasant if she read him rightly. His eyelids fluttered; he forced them up again, but he said nothing. She smiled. No doubt he thought he was being courteous, letting her state the conditions of their cohabitation, because cohabitation it was going to be. She had no intention of forgoing the comforts, such as they were, of her tent and her blankets and he certainly wasn’t strong enough yet to survive the night outside even with a fire. Gods, it’s one of those tales Frit was always reading, twisting and turning to get the hero innocently into bed with the heroine and give him a chance to show just how heroic he was. How noble. Put a sword between them and grit the teeth. Silly. He was in no shape to… damn, she didn’t want him thinking he had to… how do you say… hah! just say it. In a while. Not now.