"Blood and bone."
"What is it?" Sirj asked, walking toward them.
Lici dropped to the ground, sobbing still, muttering once more. "She's been spreading the pestilence with her baskets. She puts a spell on them, and then probably sells them in the marketplace or trades them with merchants. That's how she's killing the Y'Qatt."
Sirj stared down at the woman, disgust and fear chasing one another across his face. "She's a demon," he whispered.
"It's worse than that. She says that now a peddler is taking her baskets into Fal'Borna land."
"Gods save us all! How many?"
"A good question." Besh squatted down beside the woman. "Lici, how many baskets does he have?"
She didn't answer. Besh wasn't even certain that she had heard him.
"Lici?" he said again. But then he shook his head and stood once more. "I'm not even certain it matters," he said quietly. "One is too many. Ten could kill thousands."
"So we have to find him."
Besh looked at him and nodded. "I agree."
"And what about her?"
What about her, indeed. Besh had told Pyav that he could kill her if that was the only way to stop her. But now, seeing her for what she was- crazed and pathetic-he no longer believed that he could bring himself to go so far. "I don't know."
Sirj eyed the cut on Besh's face. "She did that to you?"
"Yes."
The younger man nodded toward the tiny blades jutting from his shoulder and body. "And those?"
"You think I put them there myself?" Besh demanded.
Sirj ignored him. "Those wounds need to be cleaned and healed." "I'm not good at healing magic."
"I am."
Besh hesitated.
"You can't travel far with those wounds," Sirj said, his voice gentle, as if he were speaking to a child.
At last the old man nodded. They moved off a short distance and Besh sat on the ground, all the while keeping watch on Lici. Sirj turned his attention first to the witch's conjured blades. The one that remained in Besh's shoulder came free easily, but the other had struck between two ribs. As Sirj pulled it out Besh winced, inhaling sharply through his teeth.
"I'm sorry."
The old man just shook his head. He pulled his shirt off, and allowed Sirj to work his magic. Besh continued to watch the old woman, but she didn't move, or even look at them. It seemed she had spent all her power and passion in their brief battle. Besh knew just how she felt.
I'm too old for this, he told himself once again.
Very smart to think of this now, when you're leagues from your home. He could hear Ema's voice, see the look of amused disdain on her face. He let out a small laugh.
Sirj frowned. "What could possibly be funny?"
"It doesn't matter."
The young man shrugged, and a moment later he sat back on his heels. "There. I can do more later, once we've made camp for the night. But that should hold you for now."
Besh moved his shoulder, then dabbed at his cheek. "That's better. Thank you."
Sirj nodded, a small smile on his lean face. He stood and helped Besh to his feet. Besh pulled his shirt back on, but beyond that neither man moved. They just stood there, looking over at Lici.
"We're taking her with us, aren't we?" Sirj finally asked.
"I don't see another way," Besh said, his voice tight.
But Sirj just nodded again and Besh realized that the younger man hadn't meant the question as a rebuke.
"What's to keep her from slipping away while we sleep, or taking that blade to our throats?"
"We'll sleep in shifts," Besh said. "And we'll have her cart with us. She won't leave that behind."
"The Fal'Borna don't care much for our kind."
Besh nodded, knowing that this was true, knowing as well that there wasn't much they could do about it. It was quite likely that the merchant who had her baskets had no idea what his wares would do to the Qirsi who might buy them. What choice did Besh and Sirj have but to go after him?
"Nobody cares for the Mettai," Besh said, eyeing the old woman, noting the dark smear of blood on the back of her hand. "But we have to do this anyway."
Blood to earth, life to power. More than words. More, even, than a
source of magic. Who are we, Grandfather? Remembering the question from so long ago, Besh knew at last what he should have told the boy. We are the land, he should have said. We are its blood. Our power flows from the earth, and it, in turn, gives strength back to this land in which we live. The Mettai had been shunned for centuries, hated by dark-eye and white- hair alike. And finally Besh understood this as well. The Mettai were a bridge between the two races. Once, had the Mettai of old seen themselves in this way, and had they understood just how much evil would come of the Blood Wars, they might have found some way to forge a lasting peace, one that would have saved countless lives. Instead, for century upon century, the Mettai had served to remind Qirsi and Eandi alike of all that they hated about each other, and, perhaps worse, of all that they had in common. The Eandi looked at the Mettai, and they saw how close they were to being like their enemy. The same was true for the Qirsi. How could Besh's people not be despised?
And yet now, once again, they had an opportunity to save lives, quite possibly thousands of lives.
"We have to do this," Besh said again. Trying to convince himself, as well as Sirj.
"All right," the younger man said. "Let's be on our way, then." He looked around the forest, which was growing darker by the moment. "I don't think we want to be near this village when night falls."
They walked cautiously to where Lici still sat on the ground. She was no longer crying, but she had begun once more to speak to herself, rocking slowly, her voice low. Stopping before her, each of them offered the woman a hand.
She stopped her mumbling, looking up first at Sirj and then at Besh. "I know you both."
"Yes," Besh said, taking her hand in his. "We're Mettai, just as you are."
Characters
BESH, an old Mettai man, a member of the village's Council of Elders EMA, Besh's wife
ELICA, his daughter
SIRJ, Elica's husband
MIHAS, Sirj and Elica's elder son
ANNZE, Sirj and Elica's daughter
CAM, Sirj and Elica's younger son
PYAV, a blacksmith, head of the Council of Elders, addressed as "eldest" LICALDI, also Lici, an old Mettai woman
SYLPA, Lici's foster mother
OJAN, the village miller
KORR, Ojan's father, a member of the Council of Elders
MARIVASSE, the village herbmistress, a member of the Council of Elders TASHYA, a member of the Council of Elders
Lowna (a Fal'Borna village on the CompanionLakes)
JYNNA, an Y'Qatt girl, orphaned in her home village of Tivston S'DORYN, a Qirsi man
N'TEVVA, S'Doryn's wife
T'NoTH, a Qirsi man, friend of S'Doryn and N'Tevva
T'KAAR, a Qirsi man, brother of T'Noth
A'VINYA, T'Kaar's wife
U'SELLE, a'laq (leader) of the village
ETAN, a young Y'Qatt boy, orphaned in his home village of Tivston VETTALA, a young Y'Qatt girl, orphaned in her home village of Tivston HEY, an Y'Qatt boy, orphaned in his home village of Tivston
PELDA, an Y'Qatt girl, orphaned in her home village of Tivston
SEBBI, Pelda's younger sister, orphaned in her home village of Tivston
R'SHEV, a Qirsi merchant on the plains of Stelpana
D'CHUL, a Qirsi lutenist and merchant on the plains of Stelpana TORGAN PLYE, an Eandi merchant from Tordjanne
Y'FARL, an Y'Qatt merchant in C'Bijor's Neck
JASHA ZIFFEL, an Eandi merchant
BRINT HEDFARREN, an Eandi merchant from Tordjanne
On the Plains of the Fal'Borna
GRINSA JAL ARRIET, a Qirsi man, originally from the Forelands CRESENNE JA TERBA, Grinsa's wife, originally from the Forelands BRYNTELLE JA GRINSA, Grinsa and Cresenne's daughter