Daughter of Witches: A Lyra Novel (19 page)

Ranira frowned and moved further away from the fire. “I won’t have to do any spells myself, will I?”

“No, I will do what is necessary,” Mist assured her. “It will be like the spell I used in order to find and remove the Temple buildings, only this time I will be to make myself as much like you as I can.”

“Like me?” Ranira said incredulously. “Why?”

“It is the quickest and easiest way to hide my experience,” Mist said, smiling. “I only hope it will work.”

“Even if you are going to try this ‘hiding,’ we should still get as far away from Drinn as possible,” said Arelnath. “I don’t like the idea of being hit by a spell stronger than the last one, and I cannot use your method of avoiding it.”

“Why not?” Ranira asked. “You helped Mist try to contact her people. Why can’t you join her in this as well?”

“Linking too many people would make us more noticeable, not less,” Mist said. “The Temple spell would hit us harder, and we might all be killed. Arelnath is right; we must go on as far as we can.”

“But Jaren cannot walk!” Ranira said, appalled. “He almost didn’t make it to the woods last night. How can we keep going?”

“I can walk as far as I have to,” a somewhat slurred voice said behind them. Ranira and the others turned to see Jaren trying to haul himself upright. Arelnath hurried over to him and shoved him back into a prone position.

“You are not going to try walking anywhere yet,” she said. “And you aren’t going to walk at all if I can stop you. Ranira was right—it only makes the poison work more quickly, and it isn’t necessary.”

Jaren did not object to this summary statement; his brief effort appeared to have tired him. Mist frowned. “If Jaren cannot walk, how are we to carry him?”

Arelnath smiled. She rose and walked to the place where the awkward hammock was lying. “This is what we used to bring you here,” she said, picking up one end and displaying it to Mist. She ignored Jaren’s groan and went on, “If I stretch it a little, it will do for Jaren as well.”

“No wonder I feel so sore,” Mist said, studying the odd-looking contraption. “I think we can make a better litter if you or Shandy can find a couple of long sticks to use as poles. It will be far more comfortable, and easier to carry as well.”

“Where
is
Shandy? Ranira asked, looking around. There was no sign of the boy, and no one could remember seeing him since Arelnath started building the fire. Accustomed though she was to the urchin’s abrupt appearances and disappearances, Ranira began to feel worried like herself, Shandy had lived in Drinn all his life; his city-tested wiles might not serve him as well in a field or forest.

“We can’t look for him now,” Arelnath said. “There isn’t time.”

“But what if the Templemen have followed us?” Ranira said anxiously.

“If Shandy has been caught by Temple guards, we have even less time to stand around worrying,” Arelnath snapped. She was already threading her way through the bushes in search of suitable branches for the litter.

Ranira glared after her. She knew Arelnath was right, but she resented it. Mist’s quiet voice interrupted her angry thoughts. “Making a litter will take time. If Shandy has not returned by the time we finish, we can look for him then. But I do not think we will need to; he is a resourceful boy.”

Ranira nodded without turning. Mist was right; she was probably worrying needlessly. Still, she was offended by Arelnath’s attitude toward her friend. Resentment, however, was a poor reason to avoid her share of the work. With a sigh, she started after Arelnath.

She found the Cilhar woman at the edge of the woods, near two slender saplings. The trees were barely three fingers wide—just right for the poles of a litter. Arelnath and Ranira each set to work on one of the trees. With only the Temple daggers to use, it took some time to cut them down, but Arelnath persisted.

“Green wood is better than dry for a litter,” she explained as she stripped the two trees of their branches. “It is more flexible, and not so likely to break.”

When they finished trimming the saplings, Arelnath and Ranira carried them back to the campsite, where Mist waited. The three women used the cords and belts of the hammock to a loose web between the two poles. They were just finishing when they heard a commotion coming from the other side of the bushes. Arelnath frowned and drew her sword. Before either of the others could say a word, the Cilhar woman had faded into the shadows among the trees.

For a long moment, the noise grew closer without interruption Then Ranira heard Arelnath’s laugh ring out, and simultaneously the noise resolved into an unsuccessfully smothered squawking accompanied by a frustrated, “Shhhh! Stop it! Ow! Shhhh!

The bushes, parted, revealing Shandy holding tightly onto the feet of two large and very angry chickens, who did not seem at all interested in being carried upside down. Ranira burst into laughter, as much from relief as from amusement. “What are you doing with those?”

“I was hungry,” Shandy said defensively. Mist had relieved him of the birds, but the boy was a sorry sight. His clothes were, if possible, more tattered than they had been when he left Drinn, and he was covered with scratches and angry red marks where the birds had pecked at him.

“So are we all hungry,” Arelnath said, coming up behind him and sheathing her sword as she spoke. “But we are not carrying chickens. Where did you steal them?”

“I went back up to one of the houses we passed last night,” Shandy said. “It wasn’t very far. There wasn’t anyone around, and then I saw those birds.” He looked disgustedly at the chickens Mist was holding.

“So you took a couple of them and came back,” Arelnath finished. “Very simple. But why didn’t you hold them so their heads couldn’t reach you? It shouldn’t be hard to guess they would be unhappy about being snatched up. Didn’t you know they peck?”

Shandy looked a little sheepish. “I was in a hurry,” he said. “And the farmers at the booths in Drinn never have any trouble. How was I supposed to know? And then, once I had them, I couldn’t let go.”

Arelnath laughed again. “We are certainly indebted to you,” she said. “I have not had such a feast in days!”

“I thought we had to leave quickly,” Ranira said. She was hungry, too, but she was still annoyed with Arelnath.

“We will all be able to travel faster if we have eaten,” Arelnath said firmly. “And the birds will not take long to cook.” She looked toward Mist, then started forward, drawing her knife as she went.

Cooking over an open fire without benefit of pots or utensils was a new experience for Ranira. At first she thought the hardest task was holding the fowl over the flames without burning either her hands or the wooden stake that Arelnath had used to spit the birds. As the chickens began to cook, Ranira changed her mind. The most difficult part of cooking over an open fire was clearly going to be leaving the birds in the flame long enough for them to be thoroughly roasted. Though they were barely half-done, the aroma rising from the two fowl made Ranira’s mouth water in anticipation.

At last Arelnath pronounced the first of the chickens completely cooked. It was quickly removed from the fire and divided; everyone began eating at once, in spite of burned fingers and tongues. Arelnath kept a watchful eye on the second bird, turning it from time to time as she ate. When it was finally finished, she removed it from the fire and tied it to a short branch, which she gave to Shandy to carry.

Mist had been able to coax Jaren to swallow a little of the meat and some water, but by the time the others had finished eating, he had lapsed into a delirium. Mist’s face was tight with concern as she helped Arelnath and Ranira lift the semi-conscious bodyguard onto the litter. Mist insisted on taking one of the ends. “I am not drained physically,” she said when Arelnath objected. “It is only my spell-casting ability that is weak, not my arms.”

Without further argument, they started walking. Travel by day was far more agreeable than stumbling along at night, Ranira decided. The wind had died, and though the air was cool, it was not acutely uncomfortable as long as she kept moving. Furthermore, it was much easier to see the various rocks, roots, and branches that littered the ground.

The woods were larger than they had appeared the previous night. They walked for several hours before they finally reached the other side. Ranira took turns with Mist and Arelnath as a litter carrier. The wooden poles were much easier for her to handle than the unsupported netting had been, and she was able to carry either end of the litter without stumbling or slowing down the party. Even Shandy took a turn, though he preferred carrying the extra chicken.

A little before midday they broke through another screen of bushes into tilled fields. To the north, a green ribbon snaked through the neat squares, marking the course of the river Annylith. Here and there a square patch of green or gold marked the place where winter crops were growing, but most of the land was a furrowed, barren brown.

At first, Arelnath insisted that they continue to walk across the plowed land, but their feet sank deep into the loosened soil, slowing progress to a crawl and leaving a clear trail across the fields behind them. Furthermore, it was difficult to hoist the litter over the occasional fence that blocked their way. At last Arelnath was persuaded to turn south along one of the narrow paths that ran past the edges of the fields. Eventually they reached a small, deeply rutted road, and they turned east once more.

Homes and storage bins stood by the road in periodic clumps, and Arelnath worried aloud about their being observed. A little irritably, Ranira pointed out that they were much more likely to attract comment tramping across the open fields than walking down a well-traveled road, though she had to admit that anyone taking a close look at the group would find it more than a little unusual.

In fact, the road did not seem particularly busy. Once, they did see a man pulling a small cart turn onto the road ahead of them, but he did not look back. Soon he had completely outdistanced them, and no other travelers appeared all day.

At noon they stopped to eat. Ranira found a ditch with a little muddy water in the bottom, and they all drank from it. Arelnath carefully filled Shandy’s water bottle before she went back to help Jaren. The mercenary was weak, but not yet in the kind of pain that Ranira remembered seeing other snake bite victims suffer. Still, she could not help eyeing him worriedly as they continued on their way.

Late in the afternoon, Arelnath began studying the side of the road for a place to stop. They were not fortunate enough to find another spot as sheltered as the forest, and the sun nearly down before Arelnath finally settled upon a brush filled hollow between two low hills. Wearily, Ranira and the others followed Arelnath off the road and into the bushes. Crawling while dragging the litter was difficult, but at last they reached the center of the hollow, where they collapsed gratefully.

R
ANIRA WAS THE FIRST
to rouse herself. She sat up, groaning in the semi-darkness, and winced as her hair tangled in the twiggy branches of the bushes above her. She worked it free, then moved to shake Mist and Arelnath out of their stupor. Shandy was asleep, curled protectively around the second chicken.

“Mist!” The woman roused under Ranira’s insistent prodding and started to sit up. Ranira held her back. “Watch out for the branches,” she said.

“Branches? Oh, I see.” Mist smiled ruefully. “I was more tired than I had thought.”

“We are all tired,” Arelnath’s voice said behind Ranira. “Eat now. You will feel better afterward. Eat, and then cast your spells. There is not much time before dark. The Temple will attack as soon as they are able.”

“It is not darkness that they wait for,” Mist replied. In spite of her apparent certainty, the healer started crawling toward Shandy and the cold, rather dusty chicken beside him. “The priests of Chaldon will not attack until Kaldarin rises.”

“How do you know?” Ranira asked nervously as Mist pulled the bird from Shandy’s grasp and began dividing it. The boy stirred, but did not waken.

“The Temple waited until Kaldarin rose before they attacked us last night, though they felt my searching long before,” Mist replied, handing Ranira a piece of chicken. “Kaldarin’s light strengthens Shadow-born, and the Temple of Chaldon is focusing all its power through their god. They will not strike until that power is at its peak.”

Ranira lost interest in the conversation; the day’s walk had whetted her appetite to a razor sharpness, and she bit into the chicken hungrily. Mist did not attempt to reengage Ranira’s attention. She, too, was more concerned with eating, at least for the moment, and the meal was finished in silence.

After she had eaten, Arelnath stretched herself on the ground beside Jaren, warming him with her own body heat. The brush-filled hollow was an almost perfect shelter against the night wind that was beginning to blow above them, but it was still far from warm. Ranira and Mist huddled together nearby, trying to find a way of being both comfortable and warm, while Mist tried to explain to Ranira what it was that her spells would do.

The attempted explanation did not help Ranira much. She was too tired to concentrate well, and she was growing increasingly doubtful about the proposed attempt to “hide” Mist from the Temple priests and their spells. Finally, Mist abandoned the pretense of conversation, and they sat in silence as the darkness deepened.

A dim pattern of shadows began to appear on the ground beneath the bushes. Mist stirred. “Elewyth has risen,” she said. “Kaldarin will soon be up as well. If you are still willing, Ranira, it is time for us to try.”

“I am ready,” Ranira said, hoping that Mist would not see how uncertain she really was. Ranira could justify the healing spells, at least to herself. She had not, after all, ever asked Mist to remove the Temple’s binding, though she had certainly been glad to be free of the priest’s spells. But this was different. Willing participation in Mist’s witchcraft seemed improper and unsettled Ranira, even though she knew now that the Temple of Chaldon was well versed in the magic it professed to despise. Yet she owed the healer a debt for the spells of healing and unbinding, and she was determined to repay it.