Between Worlds: the Collected Ile-Rien and Cineth Stories (21 page)

It was a woman, moving with short disjointed steps. She
was pale as milk in the shadows, dark hair ragged against her back, her dress
hanging loose, dragging in the dust. Something about the way she moved
suggested youth, that she was barely old enough not to be called a child. But
when she turned her head toward them, the shadows clung to her, hiding her
face.

Giliead paced slowly toward her, his face distant. “She’s
looking for her brother,” he said softly.

Ilias felt his skin prickle with a chill that had
nothing to do with the cool night air. “A child?” he asked.

Giliead frowned. “Older brother. She says they meant
to do the rites for her, but then they were gone.”

Ilias knew from the Journals that shades weren’t the
best sources of coherent information. They knew vaguely about things that had
happened while they were alive, and even more vaguely about events afterward,
but they were wrapped up in their own memories. They didn’t sit around and
watch living people, or understand much of what they saw. Giliead moved
sideways, slowly pacing her unsteady progress. He said, “They were travelers,
coming up the mountain pass from the other side. They came alone, they were
afraid.”

“They were running from something?” People usually
traveled in traders’ caravans for safety, when they couldn’t take a ship along
the coastline. The girl and her brother must have had a powerful motivation to
cross godless territory without even waiting for the next traders’ trip. “From
what took the Taerae?”

Giliead shook his head slowly. “The Taerae were here,
when she reached the city. I think she died before it happened. Whatever it
was.” Then he went still, the line of his back conveying a tension that set
Ilias’ nerves on edge. Giliead stepped back, shaking his head slowly, and as he
turned Ilias saw his face in the moonlight. His brows were knit in confusion. “What?”
Ilias asked. “What did she say?”

Giliead squeezed his shoulder. “She thinks the Taerae
killed her brother, because they thought he was a wizard.”

Ilias stared at the girl’s figure, growing indistinct
as she moved further into the midden. He had the sudden sick feeling the girl’s
remains hadn’t been overlooked, or that the disaster that had befallen the town
hadn’t delayed the rites. “They killed her too, and threw her body in the
midden.” In a sick kind of way, it didn’t surprise him. People who used guls as
a method of execution were capable of anything.

“We’ll look for her body tomorrow. I want to get back
to the others.” Giliead’s eyes were on the town, the rock that formed the
houses touched with silver in the moonlight. “I think I know what happened,
now. Or part of it.”

* * *

The traders were waiting in the plaza when they
returned, sitting in a close group around the fire. Laodice and Macchus were
turned to face the dark caverns of the houses, weapons near at hand, while the
others ate. It was a relief; the walk had been just long enough for Ilias to
imagine what it would be like to reach the plaza and find them missing.

The traders looked relieved to see them as well,
shifting to make room at the fire. “Did you find anything?” Laodice asked, as
Nias slid graincakes off the pan for them.

“Yes. There’s been a wizard here.” Giliead laid his
sword across his lap. “As soon as it’s light, I want you to go back down the
pass. I don’t know if he’s still here or not, but if he is, we’ve been lucky so
far. There’s nothing you can do to help, and being here will just make you
targets.”

Everyone stared, startled. Tolyi exchanged an
expression of blank surprise with Laodice, then asked, “Truly? But how--”

Ilias wrapped the crumbly cake around the dried meat
and took a big bite to conceal his expression. The traders might have tried to
hide it, but they had really had their doubts. That made it almost a pleasure
to deliver this information. Almost.

Giliead explained, “I found a shade. She was traveling
through the pass with her brother; he was a wizard.”

“I didn’t know wizards had sisters,” Liad said
tentatively.

“They mostly don’t,” Ilias told him, brushing crumbs
off his shirt. “They leave their families, or kill them.”

“This one was young, and running from something.” Giliead’s
eyes turned distant as he sorted over the impressions the girl’s shade had
given him. “He didn’t have many curses, and hadn’t been taken as an apprentice
by another wizard yet. His sister wasn’t certain, but that’s what he told her
he was running from.”

“He didn’t want to learn curses?” Laodice asked, her
expression dubious.

“It’s not so much an apprenticeship as it is an
enslavement,” Giliead said. “The younger wizard learns from the elder, but only
so he can better do the elder’s bidding. Once he learns too much, the elder
usually kills the apprentice. Or tries to.” He added, with a trace of irony, “Many
wizards try to avoid it.”

Ilias kept his expression carefully neutral. What
Giliead wasn’t saying was that there were people who could be wizards, but had
never learned to curse, or at least never used what few curses they did have
for ill. This knowledge was kept only by the Chosen Vessels, passed along only
to those who needed to know it. As far as they could tell, the gods didn’t mind
the existence of these potential wizards, so the Vessels didn’t intentionally
seek them out. As long as they weren’t doing harm or using curses, they could
live as they wanted. But explaining this to terrified townspeople wasn’t an
easy thing to do, so the Vessels kept it as secret as possible. And those
potential wizards were still dangerous, still likely to draw stronger wizards
who wanted to take them as slaves for their power.

“Someone in the town must have realized what he was,
the sister wasn’t sure how or why,” Giliead was saying. “They were short of
coins and had little to trade, so he may have tried to use a curse to get them
food or shelter or a passage down the pass, and been caught at it. When the
Taerae attacked them, the girl was killed.” He looked away with a grimace. “I
don’t know how. Shades usually don’t remember the moment of their death very
well.”

Laodice was frowning and Tolyi shook her head, her
face set in lines of disgust. Tolyi said, “The girl was an innocent.” She looked
up, lifting her brows. “At least she would be considered so in my land.”

“Here too,” Laodice said with a wince. “Families aren’t
responsible for the crimes of one member, even a wizard’s crimes. I didn’t
realize how...beyond the bounds the Taerae had gone.”

“They should have kept quiet and summoned a Vessel,”
Macchus pointed out practically. “Then they’d still be alive.”

Giliead nodded grimly. “Exactly. The Taerae brought
this on themselves. Unfortunately, they brought it on everyone in the town as well.”

“But if this young wizard had little experience, how
did he kill all the townspeople? And how did one man conceal all those bodies?”
Laodice asked, making a helpless gesture.

“Perhaps he was deceiving the sister about the depth
of his knowledge,” Tolyi said thoughtfully.

“It’s possible,” Ilias said, “but if he was, the
Taerae would never have caught him.”

Giliead took a sharp breath. “Yes. She distinctly
remembers that the Taerae discovered him, that he was caught by surprise. An
experienced wizard wouldn’t have been.” He shrugged a little. “In trying to
save himself, he may have drawn something else.”

“Something else?” Macchus echoed.

“Another wizard or a new kind of curseling,” Giliead
said. “Something that could destroy the townspeople. Whatever it is, it may
still be here. And the young wizard, the girl’s brother, may be up here
somewhere as well. She thinks he was killed, but she didn’t seem to have an
image of it happening. That’s why I want you to leave at first light.”

Laodice looked worriedly from Ilias to Giliead. “Your
brother will come with us?”

Ilias snorted. “No.”

Giliead regarded him a moment, one brow lifted. Ilias
stared back steadily. Giliead smiled faintly, and looked at Laodice. “No.”

* * *

They spent the night with three people always on
watch, but no one got much sleep. Ilias sensed movement at the corners of his
eyes every time he turned his head. He knew the guls clung to the shadows and
watched them all night.

Ilias gave up on sleep long before dawn and helped
Macchus make breakfast. Then Macchus insisted on dividing up the supplies the
traders had brought, leaving Giliead and Ilias enough food for more than twelve
days. “I don’t think it’s going to take that long,” Ilias told him. If their
limited past experience was any guide, it would either be over very quickly or
not happen at all.

Macchus just grimaced and pushed another packet of
grain at him.

By the time the sky was lightening to gray with dawn,
the traders were ready to leave.

“Be careful,” Laodice said, watching them worriedly. Earlier,
she and Tolyi had gently tried to persuade Ilias to leave again. They were so
earnestly tactful, it was impossible to be angry. It was possible to be annoyed
and resigned, however. She asked, “How long should we wait?”

She meant,
how long should we wait before accepting
the fact that you’re dead
. Ilias looked at Giliead, lifting his brows. Giliead
just smiled faintly and said, “If we’re not back down the pass in three days,
send for another Vessel.”

The others said their grave farewells, and walked away
down the road. Ilias gave them one last wave as they reached the bend of the
trail. “They think we’re going to die.”

“Yes. Yes, they do,” Giliead said, rubbing the bridge
of his nose wearily. “I was surprised they didn’t insist on doing the rites for
us before they left. And they were shocked senseless that I actually found
traces of a wizard up here. Even if it might not be the right wizard.”

“That was a little obvious.” Ilias looked up at him. “I
guess we’ll have to wait until dark to lure him out. You want to search the
town some more, so if he is here and watching us, he doesn’t suspect that we
know about him?”

Giliead nodded absently, turning to look back at the
empty plaza. The wind had piled up floating weeds, making a barricade over a
few of the doors. “But let’s take care of the sister’s shade first.”

Ilias grimaced agreement. He didn’t like to think of
her wandering the midden, and if anything happened to them, it might be a long
time before another Vessel could get up here. The rites were simple and quick
to perform; if a person died near home, you scattered three handfuls of earth
on the body. If the death occurred elsewhere, or at sea, or if it was a
stranger’s body, you used three locks of hair. It was customary to get three
people, but you could also use three locks from your own head if you had to. Even
very old shades could be sent to rest this way; it didn’t matter if the body
wasn’t intact, even a few bones were enough.

The town seemed even more silent as they walked back
through the empty streets toward the river. Ilias had never noticed silence
like this before. Even counting time spent in Cineth and other noisy populated
cities and villages, he was more used to quiet places than not. There was just
something about this silence that felt...as if it was masking the presence of
something else. “Something’s here,” he said.

Giliead wasn’t surprised. “I don’t think we’re going
home empty handed.”

They reached the midden and Giliead stepped on top of
a low pile of broken crockery, animal bones, food waste, and broken furniture. The
buzz of flies was intense. “The shade was right around here. And I have the
feeling it wasn’t long after she was killed that whatever it was happened--”

“So she’ll be near the top,” Ilias finished, taking
the next pile over, wincing at the heavy odor of rot. This was what the
Journals didn’t mention about the lives of Chosen Vessels and their companions.
Ilias supposed it didn’t make good poetry:
And then the Vessel of Cineth
Giliead and his foster brother Ilias spent the afternoon digging in the middens
looking for parts of the dead girl, hoping the dogs hadn’t gotten to her and
that they could find enough of her to perform the rites on
.

For some time, Ilias kicked aside dirt clods and dried
dung, shards of glass and pottery, while Giliead dug in the other pile. Then
Ilias hesitated as he spotted a tangle of stained yellow cloth. He crouched
down, shoving away at the debris on top.
Yes, there it is
. A hand, still
attached to a slender forearm, the flesh discolored and sunken with rot. He
grimaced, twisting around to say, “Gil, I found--”

It was dark. Dark as the inside of a black cloth sack,
the still air cool and a little damp, no sun, no stars, no moon. Ilias’ throat
went dry and his heart squeezed in his chest, skipping a beat.
Oh...no
. “Gil,”
he said softly.

Silence. There was no hint of the rush of the river,
or the wind scattering dust and grit against the rocks. His eyes were starting
to adjust and he could just make out shapes in the darkness. He was facing back
toward the town and he could see the rooflines of the houses, black against the
lighter darkness of the sky, but they marked a set of structures far taller
than they should be, and the shapes were all wrong.
I don’t know where I am.