I stuck my tongue out at him and stood up to let him sluice the dirty water off me. My arms were still tainted blue but you had to look close to see it. With luck, once I was dressed, people would just think I was feeling the cold.
“Your turn.” I tugged the stopper out of the hole in the bottom of the trough and got out, pleased to see the Eldritch disguise flow down the gully and out beneath the wall. Filling the trough again helped keep me warm but I began to shiver as I washed Ryshad’s hair while he scoured his forearms.
“Shiv? Any chance of some fresher linen?” The idea of putting that frowsty shirt on my clean body revolted me.
“Give me a moment.” The wizard’s wet hair was black and sleek against his head.
“Can you fetch me my shaving gear?” Ryshad grimaced as he ran a hand over his bristles.
’Gren tested his own chin as I rummaged in Ryshad’s bag. ”I don’t think I’ll bother.”
“You can leave it half a season and no one notices unless your whiskers catch the light,” I teased.
A knock at the door startled us all.
“Hello?” Sorgrad wiped soap from his face.
“Towels?” ’Gren wondered hopefully.
A voice outside said something I didn’t catch.
“Food!” ’Gren’s face broke into a broad smile. “Even better.”
I moved to avoid brightening up any passing goatherd’s day as ’Gren opened the door entirely heedless of the fact he was bare-arsed and dripping wet. Wiry and muscular, he crouched to pick up a loaded tray.
“What have we got?” Sorgrad picked up a lidded flagon and they set the spoils on the broad rim of the pool. Ryshad finished his cursory shave with a few strokes of his razor and came dripping across the floor.
“You can share that.” A boiled goat’s head sitting in broth thick with herbs didn’t appeal to me. I prefer my food without an expression. I reached instead for a small plump bird and was agreeably surprised to find it had been stuffed with a sweet dough before baking to succulence.
“Our hostess must be better disposed than she looked.”
Shiv bit into a fat, glistening sausage. The mouthful muffled his curses as sizeable scraps of hot offal spilt down his chest.
Ryshad coughed. “It looks like everyone wants to get us drunk.” He handed the flagon to me and I took a cautious sip.
“What kind of liquor is that to give travellers?” I coughed. The powerful fumes of the spirit made my eyes water.
’Gren paused, mouth stuffed with flatbread scorched from the skillet. ”There’s enough food here to keep us busy for a while.”
“From a woman none too pleased to see us in the first place.” Sorgrad ate a dark blood sausage in a series of rapid bites.
We all looked at each other. Ryshad and I shared a lifetime’s habit of suspicion with Sorgrad and ’Gren and even Shiv was looking doubtful.
“What can you see in the yard?” Ryshad scooped a bizarre concoction of cheese pressed with scraps of meat and herbs on to a slab of bread. Chewing, he crossed to a far window and tugged the bone frame just far enough awry for a clear view out.
“There’s no one lifting so much as a slop pail out here,” said Sorgrad slowly.
“Where are the people we saw before?” I watched Ryshad rummage in his bag.
“Nowhere.” Sorgrad craned his neck for a better view out of the clouded window.
“That doesn’t sound too friendly.” ’Gren stripped the meat from the goat’s head with deft fingers and packed it inside a hollow flatbread.
Shiv looked at Ryshad. “Anything on your side.”
Ryshad rested his spyglass on the sill. “Men running in ranks like a proper drilled troop are coming this way in a hurry.”
“The old woman sent Olret a message,” said Shiv slowly.
“He’s sent us an escort back to the keep?” Sorgrad was sceptical.
“Maybe, maybe not.” Ryshad finished his food in a few swift mouthfuls. “Let’s be ready to meet them, either way.”
We pulled on shirts and jerkins, stepping into breeches and boots, ignoring travel stains and staleness. A shadow caught my eye and as I looked through the yellowed membranes of the nearest window, several furtive figures passed between the blurred outlines of the house and outbuildings. “The old woman’s menfolk are ready to argue the point if we try to leave.”
Sorgrad was stuffing what of the remaining food would travel best into his and ’Gren’s bags. “If it comes to a fight, we take them all on at once.”
“Can’t we just leave them gawping at an empty trap?” I asked at Shiv as I laced up my shirt. “ ’Sar can’t still be snoring?”
“What is there to burn?” Shiv dug out his silver salver and looked around. “I need wood or wax.”
But bone was all there was hereabouts, thanks to the local lack of trees. Wanting trees made me think of the Forest and I threw Shiv one of my everyday rune sticks.
He didn’t hesitate, summoning a flame that burned with a strange green tint. He worked his now familiar magic once, then a second time, then a third, the rune stick burning with unnatural rapidity. Growing concern furrowed the mage’s brow as I concentrated on securing my bag and Ryshad’s to stop myself standing over Shiv. Ryshad was tense at his window while Sorgrad kept watch on the yard outside.
“Well, wizard?” ’Gren demanded, his bag and Sorgrad’s slung on his back, knives ready to fight anyone who offered.
“I can’t bespeak anyone, not Usara, not Allin, not Larissa.” I heard considerable disquiet in Shiv’s voice.
“Can’t you rouse Planir or someone in Hadrumal?” Apprehension deepened Ryshad’s tone.
“Give me a moment.” Shiv set down his salver and the half-burnt rune stick and heaved a weary sigh. It wasn’t paint causing those dark hollows under his eyes, I realised with a sinking feeling. This wasn’t the time to find Shiv had spent all his wizardry, not if we couldn’t summon help from beyond these islands. What could have happened to the other mages?
“They’ll be at the boundary wall any moment now,” Ryshad warned from his vantage point.
“I can see those slackers with their spades hiding round the corner of the house,” Sorgrad said ominously.
’Gren and I stood watching Shiv work his spell once more.
“Planir, it’s me, Shiv.” The mage’s voice hardened as he bent closer to the amber radiance. “Open to my spell, curse you! I have to speak to you!”
But the light faded inexorably from the cold metal. “Don’t do this to me!” spat Shiv, heedless of the rune stick burning his fingers. He gripped the salver so hard the silver buckled. With a snap that startled us all, it twisted out of his hands to fall blackened to the floor. Shiv stared at it aghast. “The magic turned against me.”
A horrible notion struck me. “Was it the rune stick? The Forest Folk foretelling is Artifice even if they don’t call it that—”
Shiv wasn’t listening. “There’s something very wrong.”
“There will be if we can’t fight a way out of here.” Ryshad snapped his spyglass shut and shoved it in a pocket. We all drew our blades as we heard running feet on the stones of the yard.
“It’s only a double handful or so,” said ’Gren scornfully.
“Shiv, can’t you just lift us out of here?” I asked.
“Where to?” he asked, exasperated. “Olret’s keep? That’s the only other place around here I know well enough to carry us to—and that’ll just about finish me.”
“We’ve fought our way out of tighter corners than this.” ’Gren was unconcerned but then ’Gren was always unconcerned. Moving figures passed by the windows.
“It’s whoever Olret’s sent that we have to worry about.” Sorgrad assessed the situation calmly. “If we deal with them, farm boys aren’t going to stand up to us.”
Ryshad didn’t take his eyes off the door. “How do we do this?”
Sorgrad used his dagger to loosen the bone frame in the stone aperture beside him. “We let them in through the door.” The window loosened. “Then we go out this way.”
Ryshad scowled. “You three, maybe. Not me and Shiv.”
“I can slow them down,” the mage assured him.