The girl drew a kitchen knife from a pocket in her shift and charged the guardsman while still gripping the bag. It was an uneven contest. With one swing of his sword, Valamar struck the blade from his assailant’s hand. It made no difference to her. She still lunged at Valamar, who struck the girl with his sword hilt instead of slaying her. The blow bloodied the girl’s lip and knocked her down, but she was on her feet in an instant.
Sevren entered the fray by tackling the girl, who still clutched the bag, though it encumbered her. Her free hand clawed at Sevren’s eyes, and he avoided injury only by seizing her wrist and holding fast. Then he gripped the wrist of the hand that clutched the bag. The girl continued to struggle, and as Sevren pinned her to the ground, he was amazed by her age and single-mindedness. His captive appeared only thirteen. She was slightly built, no match for him at all. Regardless, she showed no signs of surrender, despite the hopelessness of her situation.
“She’s a real spitfire,” said Valamar as he sheathed his sword. He held his torch closer to the struggling girl’s face. It proved the opposite of a spitfire’s, for it was bereft of passion. Sevren and Valamar saw neither anger nor desperation in the girl’s features. She displayed no emotion at all. Blank eyes stared from a face that might have been stone if it hadn’t been animated by a constant twitch. It was a disturbing sight.
“Karm protect us!” said Valamar. “What have we caught?”
“Take the bag from her,” said Sevren, “and look inside.”
Valamar managed to pry the bag from the girl’s fingers only by exercising all his strength. It contained silver dishes and goblets. “She’s a thief, no doubt about it.”
“Speak, lass!” shouted Sevren. “Where were you taking this?”
The girl remained silent as she continued her futile struggle. Valamar raised his fist to strike, but she didn’t react. “Do na hit her,” said Sevren. “Someone’s already done her more grievous harm.”
“What?”
“Look at those dead eyes. Someone’s worked a spell on her.”
“Was that beggar right?” asked Valamar. “Is her spirit stolen?”
“Either that or overpowered.”
“What should we do?”
“Bind the girl, and return these goods.”
“Then what?”
“If we take her to the guardhouse, they’ll flog her or worse,” said Sevren. He regarded the girl’s dirty, vacant face. “I suppose she’s beyond caring, but I propose another course. I’ve a friend who could hold her awhile. Mayhap she’ll recover.”
It took both of the men to bind the girl, who resisted silently. After they returned the stolen silver, they dragged their young captive to Thamus’ home. There, Sevren prevailed on his friend to hold the girl in a small storeroom and watch for signs of recovery. Afterward, he and Valamar resumed their rounds.
Valamar shivered, but not from the cold. “By Karm, this has been a most unnatural night!”
“Aye,” said Sevren. “That girl’s a victim of sorcery. I’m certain of it.”
“But who could work such a spell? The mage is dead.”
“Is he?” asked Sevren. “He looked dead enough, but now I wonder.”
“He’s dead. You’re daft if you think otherwise. I dumped what was left of him in the pit myself If you think he lives, go there and take a peek.”
“Mayhap I will.”
Dar didn’t meet with the matriarchs again until the afternoon after the feast. Then she addressed her foremost concern. “When Fathma was first recovered by urkzimmuthi, queen made treaty with washavokis. Our sons killed for them, and they stopped raiding us. I think she acted wisely, for treaty brought peace to our halls. Yet sons bought that peace with their lives, and because washavokis are cruel, those sons were required to do cruel deeds. When washavokis see urkzimmuthi, they recall those deeds and think we’re evil. Moreover, they say we eat washavokis and relish killing.”
“How could they be so foolish?” asked Muth-mah.
“It’s their nature,” said Dar. “When I was washavoki, I believed those tales also. I know that’s surprising, but I did.”
“If washavokis think we’re evil, why did they want sons to fight for them?”
“To make their enemies fear them. Father of Great Washavoki did not like killing, neither did his grandfather. During their reigns, our sons seldom killed. But things changed after last great washavoki was crowned. Then many sons were called to kill for him. Black Washavoki used magic upon our queen to get them.”
“Hai,” said Muth-tok. “But those two are dead. Great Washavoki’s muthvashi rules now. You made treaty with her.”
“She seemed to see wisdom in peace,” said Dar. “Yet washavoki mothers are ruled by sons.”
“Even washavoki great mothers?” asked Muth-smat.
“Hai. Moreover, I know what son counsels her. He’s evil and likes killing.”
“How can she lack wisdom and still rule?” asked Muth-smat.
“Washavokis are not like us. They have not Fathma. Crown passes from father to son regardless of son’s worthiness. This muthuri rules only because her son is too young. When he gets older, she must give him crown.”
“What nonsense!” said Muth-smat.
“Washavokis are full of nonsense,” said Dar. “Our treaty with them is wise, for it brings peace. But I’m not certain they want peace. Thus I plan to go to Taiben.”
“What will you do there?” asked Muth-tok.
“I’ll attempt to show washavoki great mother that peace is wise. However, I think she may request that sons kill for washavokis again. I won’t allow that. Too many sons have died already.”
“If we deny washavokis our sons, they may start raiding again,” said Muth-yat.
“I believe you’re right,” said Dar. “They’ll use road between here and Taiben. We must think of ways to stop them.”
“Stone Clan built that road,” said Muth-tok. “My grandmother was matriarch then. She had vision that is part of Tok clan lore. Spirit of her grandmother appeared to her and asked, ‘Why do you make door that you can’t shut?’ My grandmother knew her vision spoke of pass in ridge, for that narrow passageway resembles door. Now know this: We can close it.”
“How?” asked Dar.
“In heights above pass, we drilled line of holes deep into rock. All these holes were sealed and covered. If covers are removed and holes are filled with water, that water will freeze and split rock. Then it can be pushed down to plug passageway.”
“Isn’t there another route between here and Taiben?” asked Dar.
“There is,” said Muth-yat. “It’s called Old Road, but no one uses it. Way is long and dangerous, especially in winter. Wagons can’t travel it. That’s why New Road was built.”
“Muth-tok, I would like you to send for sons with skills to close pass if necessary. I want to be prepared.”
“I will do this, Muth Mauk.”
“Your journey to Taiben sounds perilous,” said Muth-jan.
“I think it will be,” said Dar. “Yet Muth la has preserved my life thus far, so I think I’ll live until I’ve accomplished my task.”
After a night spent on watch, Sevren slept until early afternoon. After he rose, he walked to Thamus’ house to inquire about the girl. The sand ice merchant looked exhausted when he opened the door. “What demon did you leave with me?” he asked. “I’ve had no rest since you departed.”
Sevren could hear pounding behind a closed door. “Didn’t you leave her tied to the chair?”
“I did. She toppled it and has been pounding her head against the floor.”
“Did you feed her?” “She took no bite of food, only one of me.”
“I suppose she said nothing.”
“Not a word. The only change is her twitch is worse, and she’s drooling now.”
Sevren sighed. “Let’s see her.”
Thamus unbolted a door, to reveal a small storeroom. Sevren’s captive was tied securely to a chair, her feet to its legs and her chest and hands to its back. As Thamus had said, she had toppled the chair, which permitted her to pound her head against the wooden floor. Thamus had tried to soften the floor with a quilt, but the girl’s persistent blows had blooded it. Sevren gazed into her eyes and saw only chilling blankness.