Doublesight (25 page)

“Not likely,” Zimp said.

The man began to lift his hand and Lankor brought his staff down on it, cracking something.

“Ahh, you broke it,” the man cried.

“I could have broken your neck. I'd suggest you don't move unless we ask you to.” Lankor looked into Zimp's eyes. “Any more questions?”

Zimp appeared to be satisfied with Lankor's response, his obvious acceptance of her as leader. “We are sorry about your friends,” she said to the man. “And we are sorry that we have to leave you.”

Raik said, “They're not all dead. My sword only killed one. The other I knocked out. He'll be coming around soon too.”

“There you are,” Zimp said. “Your partner can set that arm, and you can be on your way. If we see you again, for any reason, you are dead.”

The man turned his head away in answer.

“We might as well move on,” she said.

As they stood over the man, the soft roar of birdsongs rose from the forest around them. A precursor to the rising of the sun, the sound filled every space that stood silent a moment ago. Beauty and annoyance entered Lankor's thoughts. He could no longer hear the movements of other animals.

“They'll quiet once the sun is fully in the sky,” Zimp said.

He glanced at her.

“You looked bothered by the sound,” she said.

“I was.”

Raik left the group to round up the horses that had been tied a short distance away. He asked Lankor to retrieve one of the bandits from the bushes before the bandit awoke and went back on the rampage.

Lankor trudged through the underbrush where Raik had indicated the man would be located and almost tripped over the body. This was an older bandit. The space between his thumb and forefinger held six or more rings, and other rings hung from those six. It was the same with both the man's hands. A real killer. Lankor carefully turned him onto his back, grabbed the meat of his upper arm, and dragged him through the brush like a carcass. In the clearing, Lankor dropped the man near the younger one. “Your leader, I suspect.”

The young man nodded quickly, but Lankor noticed something else in his demeanor that suggested the older man meant more to the boy. “He's your father, isn't he?”

“’Tis,” the boy said.

“He'll be fine. Just sore for a while.”

“Are you through?” Zimp asked. “Raik will be waiting with the horses.” She had collected their gear and it lay at her feet. She picked up her pack and led them toward the horses, while Lankor and Brok picked up their rolls and followed.

Brok leaned in to Lankor. “At least she appears to know what she's doing.”

“Shouldn't we have asked more questions of the bandits, though?” Lankor said.

“I might have. But then, I might have killed them all, too,” Brok said.

“They deserve to live out their lives,” Lankor said, an understanding his father had handed down to him, one that his clan believed. Had they not believed it, the underlying notion was that their own clan would be wiped out.

“Perhaps you believe that now, but remember that if it were up to them the doublesight would be no more.” Brok pulled away. “Think about that,” he said.

“Would you have us kill every human?” Lankor said.

“Every human that threatened the doublesight,” Brok said.

“Not that I have seen it for myself,” Lankor said, “but my father told me that even though the doublesight look strong in a compound like the council grounds, they are few. You should know that. You lived in Brendern Forest. We could not win an all-out war against the humans. Many of the doublesight would not even fight. Their religion forbids it unless they are attacked as we were this morning.”

“Is that how your clan believes?” Brok said.

Lankor thought about the question. “My clan or me? I struggle with that question. I believe in life, yet I could see that I would kill until I was killed if my clan were at risk. When I am angry, there may be little room between the two beliefs. Other times, there is a chasm between them.”

“This journey will help you to settle that confusion, my man. This journey will have you thinking about your own life and death as well as the life and death of our small group, your own clan, and the doublesight. I suggest you start to figure where your loyalties lie so that when the time comes, you can act with clarity of purpose.” Brok patted Lankor's back as though he were a close friend.

Lankor felt the touch of someone wishing to manipulate his belief system.

Raik held the reins of the horses. They were saddled and ready.

Lankor wondered how he had prepared them so quickly, but dismissed the thought. A trained warrior could do many miraculous things, he was beginning to notice.

Back on the trail, the four of them attempted, once again, to talk as though they had known one another for years. Without actually having that contact, the conversation was punctuated with questions. Lankor felt uncomfortable with the whole exchange. It seemed forced. Yet he would use the time to truly learn about the many doublesight he had never met in his life. Riding next to Zimp, he said, “I am sorry that we didn't get to begin the day with a prayer.” When she didn't respond quickly, he added, “Isn't that your clan's way? Are they not very religious?”

“Religion is a slippery word,” she said. “People fight to uphold religion. People feel that religion is right or wrong. We prefer to say sacred. To the crow clan, the land is sacred, the sky sacred, the water. To us, all things should be shared. Nothing belongs to one human, animal, or doublesight.”

“You slit the throat of that bandit back there.”

“He attacked us. If they had come in peace, we would have bargained or bartered, but I never would have killed. That is the difference between being a thief and a bandit in this land.” She looked directly into his eyes, an intense stare, forceful and strong, touching and
emotional. “To us, we are not thieves, but are taking what should be shared anyway. What we do helps the economy of the places we leave. No one understands that but us. As we ride away the vendors and artisans are visited once again. Money is exchanged. Mouths are fed.”

“That sounds less like fact and more like rationalization,” Lankor said.

“Believe what you will.” She turned forward and said, “I noticed you didn't kill.”

“There was no need. The threat was minimal when it began. Like you, I would have killed had it been necessary.” He paused, shifting in the saddle as the horses began a decline. “The others had little problem. Brok said that he might have killed them all.”

“Brok is angry. I don't blame him for that. Raik is a trained warrior. I expect him to kill.” She turned her head, looking shy and vulnerable. There was a long hesitation. “We two are the more respectful of life, the balance. I only hope we can hold them back when the time comes. I wouldn't want to enter a battle we were not sent to enter.”

“Is that possible with these two?” Lankor said. “They appear to listen to your orders so far.”

“I don't feel as though they listen at all, but that they do what I say because that is what they might do on their own. Or that what I suggest doesn't matter to them. They have no feeling about it.” She turned completely around in her saddle. “Even now, Raik has fallen back out of sight. Only Brok and Therin are behind us. You see, no one told him to become a rear guard. Perhaps he is separating from my authority this soon in our travels. I fear that a quick oath might not be enough when real danger sets in, when strategy needs to be set.”

“We will see.”

“And you?” she said. “Will you obey my orders? Will you take my lead?”

Lankor felt his chest tighten and his throat close. He did not speak right away.

“Exactly,” she said.

“I was thinking,” he said.

“You should not have to think about your allegiance to the cause, to our purpose.”

“I don't,” he said.

“Then your objection is to my ability to lead,” Zimp said.

Lankor drew his horse around to go back with Brok. “I was just thinking,” he said. Zimp said something, but he didn't hear the words clearly.

Lankor drew up next to Brok. “Did Raik decide to hunt for our supper?”

Brok's wide mouth snapped into a smile. “He said he wanted to be sure we weren't followed.”

“Those two? One had a headache that would take days to clear and the other had a broken arm.” Lankor struggled with his horse, which didn't want to ride so close to Brok's horse.

“Trouble?” Brok said.

“I'm getting used to it. Just sometimes these things don't listen.”

Brok smirked. “Be a little easier on his mouth and he might relinquish to your guidance.”

“Sounds like her,” Lankor said, lifting his chin toward Zimp.

“She's quite a woman,” Brok said.

“Do you have feelings—”

“No,” Brok snapped.

“I'm beginning to understand why you might want her to see your skills.”

“You know nothing,” Brok said.

From behind, Raik trotted his horse next to Lankor and Brok.

Lankor gave him a questioning look.

“Taking care of a few things,” Raik said.

“I thought you were just making sure we weren't followed,” Brok said.

Raik glanced at Brok. “We're not now.”

27

THE SMALL BAND OF DOUBLESIGHT rode down the mountain, through the hollow, and north along the western edge of Brendern Forest. They were now in Weilk and had passed the turnoff that drove due west toward Weilk Post Stronghold. This meant that they already traveled along Torturous Road. It was obvious that many paths paralleled the road in mock recognition of the number of bandits and thieves and crazed killers who roamed the area.

They rode along a side hill, beyond a parallel path, and deep into the forest where they were to spend the night. It appeared to be an untraveled and safe place. Was that even possible?

Zimp glanced around as though sizing up everyone's energy. “Raik, could you take first watch and Brok second? I'll take third and Lankor can do morning watch again.”

Raik knew that Zimp could sense the strength of his snake image. She could see the image if she paused and focused for a moment, but that wasn't necessary. She continued to pace the length and breadth of the camp as though she were unsure of her decision.

“Could I ch-change with Brok this evening?” Raik turned to Brok, “If that's f-fine with you?”

Brok dropped his pack from his horse and dragged it near the trunk of an oak. He shrugged his shoulders. “I could do that.” He pulled his bedroll out. “What's the pattern of the bandits out here? When might they attack?”

“Not at all if we are far enough from them,” Zimp said. “Not everyone gets attacked who sets foot on the road.”

“You think a mile or so from the road is enough to deter b-bandits?” Raik said. He felt Zimp's anger rise at his words, but stood his ground long enough for everyone to have the chance to notice his strength and confidence.

“I didn't ask for this job,” Zimp said. “If you have a better idea, I'd like to hear it.”

Brok stepped between them and said, “I say we hunt a few bandits down and take over their camp. That wouldn't be expected. And, the fewer bandits we have to worry about the better. They're only human and would probably hunt us down if they knew we were here.”

Raik pondered Brok's aggression and Zimp's reluctance for a moment, and almost reconsidered his own plans for the evening.

“What do you think, Raik?” Lankor stretched out on his blanket. Therin stood beside Lankor. The big man didn't look the least bit concerned about how close the thylacine stood. “Well? You're the warrior. Maybe we should consider what you think, especially in this territory.” He nodded toward Zimp. “What do you think? We're headed into a rough town around the castle. He might be able to give us warning, at least. Make us aware of what we might expect.”

“I wouldn't know,” Raik said. He felt sorry he had brought it up. He meant only to undercut Zimp's already weak authority, play her reluctance to lead against her. He was on the spot.

Lankor stared at him.

“Are you looking into my beast image?” Raik said. “Isn't that considered rude where you come from?”

“You appear to be edgy tonight,” Lankor said. “Your image is weaving and unsteady. What's bothering you?”

“I, too, sense an agitation,” Zimp said.

Raik walked away from them. He knew that exposing his images would create conflict with the others. He was different. He hated that, and he felt that they mistrusted him. He'd show them. Even Lankor, whom Raik liked, was pressuring him about his images, about his natural movement. Had the dragon man never seen a snake before, a copperhead slipping through the grasses of The Lost?

Raik positioned himself behind his horse and made like he was caring for it. The wind through the trees clacked leaves against one
another and whooshed along the ground. He didn't feel safe with the doublesight, but didn't believe they noticed until now. Why would he question her and bring attention to himself? The snake weaved before a strike. He knew that, but they obviously didn't.

A tightness built in him just outside the edges of his human body. Raik sensed the pull toward beast image like the gnaw of hunger against an empty stomach. For a moment he heard another voice in his head, but no words were said. The voice had a feel to it, the feel of his mouse image poking a sharp stick at his snake image. A sharp familiar feeling he never tried to explain, even to himself. He wished Bennek were there with him. His brother's words were calming and would take his mind from the hunger to shift images.

“You need help?” Lankor had crept up on him.

Raik jumped back and the horse stepped away as if afraid of the movement. “D-do I look confused to you?”

Lankor leaned back. “Not confused at all. Are you?”

“I need to be alone. You wo-wouldn't understand.”

“Look, my little friend, we all understand.” Lankor placed a hand at the horse's withers, and it calmed under his touch. “Care must be taken when and where we shift. This is not easy for any of us.”

Raik, in a moment of focus, blurted out, “I have a double need. My copperhead hisses and hisses in my ears. It wants out.” He looked at Lankor and saw that the man had no understanding of what Raik had just confided. “I wish one of them would d-die,” he said.