A Warrior of Dreams (14 page)

Ghost finally dumped the dregs from his cup. "How did you sleep?" He wasn't just being polite; the question had been of concern to them both.

Joslyn rubbed a spot on her shoulder. "Well enough... I kept close to the mist, tried not to move. That was hard, but I don't think anyone saw me."

"Did you dream?"

She frowned. "Of course not. Too easy to spot."

He shook his head. "I wouldn't think so. They would be used to seeing scattered dreams from the outlying farms beyond the gates. One dream among many would blend better that a lone nightsoul loitering about."

Joslyn kept groping for a sore spot on her back that was just out of reach. "I don't agree," she said.

"As you wish..." Ghost moved behind her and began to massage her back. Joslyn started to pull away but it felt too good. She waited suspiciously for a more intimate move on his part, but there was none. He found the stiff places in her shoulders and along her spine and methodically eased them away.

"You're very good at that."

"I've slept on the ground enough to know where it hurts. With a little practice you'll be able to reach them yourself."

Ghost put out the fire very carefully and packed up the food. Joslyn looked around, apparently uncomfortable.

"There's no pursuit yet," Ghost said, "I've already checked."

"It's not that," she said, "I have to... well, you know."

For a moment it was clear that Ghost didn't know. Then the light dawned. "Oh. There's a large rock over the rise if you want privacy. I'll wait here."

"You do that." Joslyn gathered her dignity and took it over the hill. From where she stood the earth seemed to slope away for miles before it leveled again, making one vast meadow that stretched from the southern to the eastern horizon. Long grasses and flowers rippled in a steady breeze.

The Grass Sea
.

The 'shore' only six miles from Ly Ossia and she couldn't remember ever seeing it. Joslyn drank it in until extreme discomfort reminded her of more urgent business. She found the rock Ghost spoke of, a massive boulder of black granite that seemed out of place on the smooth slope. Joslyn went to the far side and relieved herself. When she rose again she saw something near the base of the slope that she hadn't noticed before. "Ghost, come here!"

Ghost quickly appeared at the crest of the hill. "What's wrong?"

"What is that?"

Ghost squinted against the sun, looking where she pointed. Something fluttered in the distance like a scrap of rainbow. It was almost lost against the huge backdrop of the Grass Sea.

"Let's find out." Ghost went back over the hill and soon reappeared with Joslyn's pack. He handed it to her on his way by and continued down the slope without breaking stride.

Joslyn adjusted her burden and hurried to catch him. "Do you think we should?"

"Whatever it is, it's on our path. Avoiding it would take time we may not have."

As they walked Joslyn felt the aches left over from the day before return to her legs. She made it a point not to mention them
—
that's one area Ghost wasn't going to touch, no matter how good a masseur he was.

Closer, details of the object became clearer
—
the rainbow was a triangular sail striped red, yellow, and blue. The rest was an odd contraption that couldn't seem to decide whether it wanted to be a cart or a boat. It was twenty
-
five feet long and roughly box
-
like, though tapered at either end. It rested on three spoked wheels mounted on spidery legs of wickered wood, two in back and one in front. The left rear wheel was warped, several of its spokes shattered.

Joslyn stared at it. "What in the world..."

"A windship," Ghost said, "we may be in luck. I wonder where the owner is
—
"

"Right here. Please don't do anything sudden."

Joslyn's body obeyed well enough, but her heart and mind were racing. She saw Ghost turn and she copied him. Slowly. Behind them stood a woman of middle years. Her graying hair was covered by a bright red and yellow scarf, and she wore loose
-
fitting tunic and breeks of blue muslin. Joslyn took in all this with barely glance; the rest of her attention was all for the short barbed spear in the woman's right hand, and the ornate hilted dagger at her belt. The stranger's grip on the spear was light, almost relaxed, but Joslyn had no doubt of what would happen if she did anything to upset the woman.

Ghost raised his right hand. "
Aslen, Maedra Col
."

The woman looked surprised but covered it quickly and returned a greeting in what sounded like the same odd tongue. She and Ghost exchanged several unintelligible words. Joslyn kept silent, quite content to let Ghost speak. He at least
seemed
to know what he was doing. Joslyn kept her eyes on the spear, and after a few more words the woman smiled and lowered her weapon.

"I just realized your friend here doesn't understand us." She spoke the city argot well enough, but with an odd lilting cadence.

"Sorry, Joslyn," Ghost said, "I wasn't thinking. This is Deverea Telsif's Child. She's of the Cyerta... Windfolk, I think you'd call them."

Joslyn stared at the woman. "You mean they really exist?"

The woman said something to Ghost and he nodded.

"What did she say?" Joslyn demanded.

"I said 'to a city girl life a mile from the gates is the stuff of legends.' We do exist, despite the Emperor's best wishes, rot him."

Joslyn, recalling the stories, could well imagine the Emperor's annoyance. A good part of the Imperial Treasury was made up of tariffs and fees dependent on Imperial control of the trade routes of the Empire. A tribe of nomads roaming the Grass Sea with the ease of sailors on the true ocean would be too scattered and mobile to regulate, especially so close to the frontier. Joslyn wondered if any of Musa's wares came to Ly Ossia on ships like this one.

Ghost studied the broken wheel. "What happened?"

Deverea shrugged it away. "Foolishness
—
I sailed too close to the hills and hit a stone. My people will miss me before long."

Ghost's smile was little more than a shadow. "I don't think so."

Deverea shifted her grip on the spear. It was barely noticeable, but Joslyn noticed it with no trouble at all.

Deverea smiled back. "What makes you think that?"

"Hunter's Moon shrunk to nothing over a week ago," Ghost answered, "The winds are shifting to the east and your folk will be gathering in the forests near Trecastyn. They won't miss you till the Counting's well begun."

Deverea moved just enough to keep both Joslyn and Ghost in clear sight. "I see you know more of my people than our language. How does that leave us?"

"It leaves you stranded," Ghost said, "and vulnerable. Windfolk trading is good for Ly Ossia and the Governor is content to turn a blind eye, normally. But if the Watchers find you here he'd have to follow form. I think you know what that means."

Joslyn's gaze was still frozen on the spear point, and odd curiosities were brewing in her mind. Such as how long it would take to die after being speared. What it felt like, and would she know what was happening as her life dripped away.
Ghost, what are you doing
?!

"Clearly," Deverea said, "Do you propose alerting the Watchers yourself or are you merely making conversation?"

"Neither. Joslyn and I need transportation to Darsa on the south coast. You need your ship repaired. I think we can make a bargain."

The nomad woman kept her grip on her weapon, and there was open suspicion in her eyes. "The wheel can't be mended
—
don't you think I've tried? It'll have to be replaced, and even if we had the time there's no seasoned white oak for miles! I was close to abandoning my craft here when you came."

Ghost squatted by the ship and eyed the broken wheel critically. "It doesn't look so bad to me... is it a deal?"

Deverea looked toward the heavens. "Yes, for all the good of it."

"More than you think, certainly. As I said, not so bad... spokes merely warped a little."

As he spoke, both Joslyn and Deverea could see that the spokes were but slightly bent, not broken.

Joslyn frowned.
I could have sworn
...

Ghost gripped a spoke and bent it back into shape. Then another. Each time the wood groaned and creaked, but obeyed. Joslyn looked at Deverea, who was looking at her, and both with the same mad confusion in their eyes.

"How did he do that?" Deverea asked. Her voice was a harsh whisper.

"I don't
—
"

She never finished. Something worse that the shock of seeing Ghost do the impossible struck her
—
terror. It nearly overwhelmed her; she almost gave in to the urge to run, it didn't matter where. Anywhere. And knowing all the while that no place was far enough. Later she tried to get a grip on the feeling, but only one image made sense
—
the memory of a dream wounded beyond recovery, one that was about to end. Another instant and the feeling passed, leaving her weak and trembling.

Deverea didn't seem to notice. She was staring at the resurrected wheel. Joslyn was amazed at the difference: the spokes had been burst by impact
—
she knew that despite what her eyes said later
—
and the few that weren't shattered were twisted beyond repair. But now the spokes were tightly in line, row on alternating row, and the windship rested on even keel.

Ghost stepped back and examined his work. "I think it'll hold."

Deverea gave him a wide berth as she went to see for herself. Joslyn waited for Ghost, arms folded across her chest. "How did you do that?"

He shrugged. "It wasn't that bad."

"It most certainly was that bad. It was broken past fixing, and you fixed it. I want to know how, and if you dare tell me it's a secret I'll borrow Deverea's spear, see if I don't."

Ghost looked unhappy. "I don't know. I wish I did."

Joslyn shook her head. "That's not good enough."

"But I honestly have no idea. It's something that's come about since my..." he groped for the right word, "
Sundering
. I once saw an aged master do something similar. He went into a waking trance for half a day, and the end all he managed was to change the color of a rose. It was a marvelous thing, but I can do far more with no effort at all now. No great changes, mind. Just things like walking past a White Robe without being seen. Or fixing that wheel."

"You did more than fix it, Ghost. You remade it, changed broken wood to sound. What you did wasn't possible!"

"Since I did do it you must be mistaken. And I told you I wasn't the first."

Joslyn looked thoughtful. "Could we find this 'master' you spoke of? Perhaps there's a connection
—
"

Ghost was shaking his head. "I thought of that, even before I came to Ly Ossia. He's been dead for many years."

"Damn..."

Deverea joined them, looking bewildered. "It's better than it was," she said. It sounded like an accusation. "Ghost man, are you a magician?"

"Something like that, I suppose. I don't think there's a word for it."

Joslyn thought of a few, but she didn't get to use them. She cocked her head, listening, and saw Deverea do the same.

"Horses," Deverea said. "No doubt carrying soldiers. We'd best get moving."

Joslyn scrambled into the stern while Ghost and Deverea swung the craft about and put its back to the breeze sweeping down from the hills. They climbed in and Deverea quickly trimmed the sail. It began to pop and rustle in the wind and Deverea took hold of the boomline. "Into the bow, both of you!"

Joslyn ducked under the boom and crawled forward. The vessel shuddered, once, then began to move. Joslyn felt a little queasy.

The boom swung sharply right and Ghost leaned on the left rail. "I've sailed before," he said. "I can help."

Deverea shot him a worried look but didn't argue. The craft was bouncing along now, faster with every moment as the woman let out more sail to catch the wind
—
too fast. The left rear wheel rose from the grass and the windship heeled to the right. Deverea slipped the line and the craft righted, but not before Joslyn banged her head on the deck. She lay where she fell, dazed.

"Are you all right?" Ghost asked.

"I would be," she yelled. "If I was walking."

"I doubt it. Look behind us."

Joslyn looked toward the hills bordering Ly Ossia. The spearpoints appeared first and then seven horsemen galloped over the last crest and down into the plain, and more followed. Joslyn stopped counting after twenty.

Deverea glanced back. "Who are they after? You or me?"

"If they catch us," said Joslyn, drily, "I don't think they'll draw fine distinctions."

Deverea laughed and let out a little more line. The vessel picked up speed more smoothly this time, and the wheels hissed through the grass as if they sailed through a sea of snakes. The horsemen were gaining, but not rapidly.

Joslyn sat up and put her back to the rail. "Can we outrun them?"

Deverea concentrated on handling the ship. She didn't look back. "I didn't get a good look. Are they wearing iron?"

"Yes."

"Then we can outrun them. Lie down, girl. Your weight's on the wrong side."

Joslyn slid forward until she was lying on the deck again. She looked up into a cloudless, changeless sky and it robbed her of any sense of motion, leaving only the vibration of the windship beneath her. She looked over the side and speed returned. Hummocks of grass and weeds shot past beneath her, and the earth was a blur. Joslyn felt giddy.

"We're losing them," Ghost said.

Joslyn strained to see. The Watchers were no longer gaining ground; soon they weren't even holding the pace.

"Keep down!" Deverea shouted.

An arrow smacked into the deck an inch from Joslyn's foot and stuck there, quivering. Another fell short of the stern.

"They started shooting too late," Deverea said, with satisfaction, "We'll be out of range soon."