As a new member of the municipal guard, Sevren got undesirable duties. Night watch was one of them, for the plague of thieves had turned evenings dangerous. Midway through his third straight night of patrolling Taiben’s dark streets, Sevren heard a low voice. “Psst! Guardsman!”
Sevren drew his sword, then looked about. He was in a poor section of town, where all the windows were shuttered tight. His watchman’s torch cast the only light. Beyond its pale circle lay only shadows and vague, inky shapes. “Who calls me?”
“I do,” replied the voice.
Sevren looked in its direction and saw a shadow move at the base of a wall. Wrapped in layers of rags, the man looked like a lump of refuse. Sevren advanced toward him.
“I mean ye no harm,” said the man, “and could give none even if I meant it. I’m blind and crippled.”
“Then how did you know I was a guardsman?”
“Yer walk. A gait speaks tales if ye have ears fer it. I’ve heared yers three nights runnin’. I know ye walk yer rounds sober but not timid. It’s a proper gait, and I judge ye a proper man. Not the kind to shake a beggar for his alms.”
“A flattering description, but I have na coin for you.”
“No guardsman ever does, but I have something for ye.”
“What?”
“A warning. The Taker roams about this night.”
Sevren thought the beggar must be mad, but he humored him. “What’s the Taker? And what does it take?” “Folks’ spirits. It makes them thieves. And worse.”
“Is it man, woman, or beast?”
“Two men, carryin’ a third by the sounds of it.”
“So why haven’t you been taken?” asked Sevren in a joking tone.
“Ye walk by thrice each night. Have ye ever seen me? Nay, I’m not worth takin’. But it took a guardsman where ye’re standin’ now, just six nights ago. Took a woman afore that.”
“How?”
“Magic, I suppose. A voice speaks and people change. Their steps lose that spark, like somethin’s missin’. I’d say it was their spirit.”
Sevren’s tone turned less frivolous. “How do you know they steal?”
“They all have the same step, the ones that go by night. They go by day, too, but mostly by night. I’ve heared them doin’ thin’s. Robbin’. Killin’. Grabbin’ folk. They’re men. They’re women. Young. Old. But they all walk without that spark.”
“This sounds like sorcery.”
“What does a beggar know of that? But I heared the Taker goin’ up this lane just a bit afore ye come along. So take care, guardsman, or ye’ll be took.”
“Thank you for your warning,” said Sevren. “I’ll sharpen my eyes and my ears also.” Then he sheathed his sword and continued on his rounds.
Sevren’s first thought was to dismiss the beggar’s claims as delusions. Sorcerers were powerful men, the counselors of kings and nobles. None had cause to slink about procuring sneak thieves and thugs. Yet the beggar’s earnestness made his warning hard to ignore, and Sevren went only a little way before he extinguished his torch. When he resumed advancing in the dark, he did so with a light tread and an alert ear. Farther up the street, Sevren heard a noise. He froze and listened. He thought he heard a pair of men walking, their shuffling tread made heavy by a burden they shared.
Sevren stared up the gloomy street. It appeared as a ribbon of dark gray between the even darker houses. If a dusting of snow hadn’t lightened the frozen slush on the road, Sevren might not have seen the moving shape. He strained to make it out, and it seemed to be two men bearing someone in a litter. Sevren’s skin crawled as it had when he entered the mage’s tower, and that sensation overwhelmed all the arguments of reason. He turned and ran without a moment’s hesitation. Sevren didn’t stop running until he was on the far side of town.
Twenty-nine
Worry made Dar’s sleep fitful, and she was tired and tense as she prepared for the council’s meeting. The session could not begin until Muth la’s Draught was ready, and that didn’t happen until it was approaching noon. As soon as Dar was told that the poison had been made, she went to the Great Chamber and sent word to the matriarchs.
The procession that arrived was much different from the previous day’s. First came Muth-goth, carried by two sons on a stretcher. She breathed in gurgling gasps and was accompanied by Deen-yat, who stayed by the matriarch’s side after the sons departed. Muth-pah entered next. Dressed in an antique manner, she gave the impression of some stern figure stepping out of ancient tales. The other matriarchs followed. They seemed subdued by Muth-pah’s presence.
Dar blessed each matriarch, then said, “Custom permits a healer’s presence if she swears to silence about what she hears. Deen-yat, do you so swear?”
“I do.”
“Good,” said Dar. “Then we must begin anew. Shall I call for stones?”
“There’s no need,” said Muth-yat, “for stones have already spoken. What needs to be called for is Muth la’s Draught.”
“There are two here who haven’t cast their stones,” said Dar.
“Each morning, golden eye rises and new day starts,” replied Muth-yat. “Yet what is past remains unchanged. You can’t alter history to suit your whims.”
“What foolishness!” said Muth-tok. “Let stones decide again.”
“If we allow that,” replied Muth-yat, “stones’ decision would never be final. I say Muth Mauk’s fitness must be tested, for stones have decreed it. She must call for Muth la’s Draught.”
“If she’s forced to drink without calling for stones again,” said Muth-jan, “she mustn’t drink overmuch. We’ll need some Draught for her successor.”
“I, for one, will question that successor’s fitness,” said Muth-tok, staring ominously at Muth-yat, “and I’m not alone. If you become queen, you won’t cast stones. But you’ll receive their judgment.”
Muth-pah also regarded Muth-yat. “Since when did urkzimmuthi learn to talk like you? You use words as daggers. Yet they’re for reasoning, not slaying. This council was incomplete when it consulted stones. Now it’s not.” She bowed to Dar. “Muth Mauk, will you call for stones?”
Dar regarded the matriarchs and sensed the shift in power among them. “Hai,” she said. “Muth-yat, will you open door?”
Muth-yat bowed and meekly complied. Dar called for the stones to be brought. When they arrived, she addressed the council. “Before these stones are cast, I wish to know why Muth-pah and Muth-goth have come, for it wasn’t I who called them.”
“It was Mother of Visions who sent me forth,” said Muth-pah. “I was loath to make that journey, but how could I disobey?”
“None from your clan has come here before,” said Muth-smat. “Has Muth la been silent to you for all those generations?”
“Thwa, but doom was laid upon us to wait and watch. That task is over. Muth Mauk came from west as was foretold.” “Does that mean world will change?” asked Muth-tok.
“Very like,” said Muth-pah, “in ways we don’t yet know. All I know is this: Muth la sent us this queen. Those who have wisdom know this also.”
Muth-goth struggled to sit upright with Deen-yat’s aid. The aged matriarch spoke in a faint voice between breaths that came with effort. “On journey, I.. .also had vision. ..It said hurry.. .or hope dies.”
“Muth la has spoken to these two mothers,” said Muth-hak. “We should listen also.”
“Muth Mauk,” said Muth-tok, “we’re uncertain where wisdom lies. Should you drink Muth la’s Draught or not? These stones will guide us. Do you wish to speak before they decide?”