Dragon Traders (6 page)

And then the stomach cramps started.

***

The noise was deafening. Ashe retched again while Katsu bellowed, pounding on the wagon walls for attention. The sound hammered through his skull, reverberating through the bone. Moran take him, he wished he
would
die. Soon.

The floor shook, and he opened his eyes just long enough to see Byron and two guards.

"What did you do?" Byron roared, catching Katsu and slamming him back against a nearby crate. "What have you done to my men?"

"Plague," Katsu wheezed, and gave a smile filled with malice. "A gift from my people."

Ashe didn't know what came next. Another spasm took him, sending him convulsing on the floor, vomiting blood. His ears rang.

Hands grabbed him, hauled him upright, unlocked the collar around his neck, and dragged him toward the door. He caught a flash of Katsu lunging for him, snatching at one of the guards. The guard tossed Katsu off like swatting a fly. Katsu crashed into Byron and grabbed hold again.

The look of hate on Katsu's face wasn't one Ashe would soon forget.

Byron yanked free, and then they were outside, in the air, in the bright sun that sent ice picks of pain into Ashe's eyes. He cried out and closed them, didn't even try to keep his feet as they dragged him out of the wagon and across the road.

Two bodies lay there already, twisted in death. The guards tossed him on top. He took a breath and was violently ill again, choking on bile until black spots swam in front of his eyes.

The caravan moved on.

Ashe rolled to one side, flat on his back, staring up at clouds as they scuttled across the sky. He breathed and told himself the symptoms would pass soon. They had to pass soon. It wasn't Katsu's plan to kill him, after all.

Another spasm took him, and when that ended and he tried to crawl down the road, toward help that would surely be coming, another took him. When he had nothing left to vomit up, he vomited again. He couldn't push himself away; his arms shook when he tried to move them. A chill moved from his bones outward, despite the warm day. Ashe breathed shallowly.

Not far away, he heard crows start to squabble, and prayed they stayed interested in the dead bodies. Prayed even harder that he wouldn't become food soon enough.

***

"Nate!" Eddie spurred her horse forward, past the outrider taking point ahead of her. "There's more bodies!" A pile of them, this time, with one off to the side. Looked like it had tried to crawl away.

She saw it better as she drew closer: two bodies, burly men with fighter's muscles, and a single lean figure, too willowy to be human, not graceful enough to be alive. "It's Ashe!" She leaped from her horse before it had stopped moving and crashed down to one knee beside the still form.

He'd been vomiting, that much was obvious. He lay on his side, skin pale and waxy, eyes closed. He was breathing, but shallowly. "Ashe," she murmured, touching his shoulder. He gave no response.

Others hit the ground nearby, a shield forming around them. Nate and Ridgely, brought along for his rudimentary healing skills, dropped beside her. "What's wrong with him?" Nate growled.

The healer was looking for obvious injuries, running hands down Ashe's limbs. "Sick," he said at last, frowning. Eddie couldn't stop a glance toward the bodies, so like the last one they'd passed. Twisted up in spasm. "But I don't know with what." The healer looked over Eddie's head at Nate. "We can't expect to move him."

Nate stood. "Make a camp!" he bellowed. "Get a fire going, blankets. Someone start some broth -- we'll need to get fluids down him."

They all knew the basics of disease, what needed to be done. They all knew how dangerous it could be, and a tension bled through the small group: whatever he had, it had killed others. They didn't know what it was or how it spread, but Ashe had been fine the day before.

Eddie, for one, hoped like hell they weren't all about to die a nasty, sickness-ridden death.

The next hour was filled with busy work, but it paid off when Ashe regained consciousness. Eddie knelt in front of him, Ridgely supporting him, both of them sweating from the fire they'd built up. Ashe was still cold and clammy, though they'd wrapped him in blankets and kept him near the flames.

Eddie paused, holding a bowl of warm water in one hand, a spoon in the other. She'd gotten some of it into him, at least. He'd swallowed on his own. "Ashe?"

He swallowed again, his pale tongue wetting his lips. "Katsu." It wasn't a croak. Wasn't even a whisper.

Eddie leaned closer. "He's not here." Distantly, she was aware of Nate walking over, of various others coming near.

Ashe breathed for a long moment, as if just that took effort. There was a rattle in his lungs that hadn't been there before. "Byron," he managed.

Nate leaned in. "Katsu's with Byron?"

Eddie couldn't have said if Ashe's head had settled, or if he'd nodded. Either way, it seemed to be enough for Nate. He went striding toward his horse, swinging up into the saddle as he rattled off four names -- people to accompany him. The rest would stay to nurse Ashe.

Eddie didn't have much belief that they'd do more than make him comfortable. It wasn't just loyalty that had Nate pounding off down the road after the caravan again, she suspected. Ridgely had some healer's skill, but nothing that could stop this. They needed Katsu.

***

It was dark when Eddie caught sight of riders. They'd moved the camp farther off the road, set sentries out, took shifts watching or nursing.

Ashe had slipped into unconsciousness and hadn't woken again. They couldn't make him drink, much less eat. Ridgely shook his head and looked grim when anyone asked how Ashe was doing.

Eddie made a shitty nurse, but her eyes were keen. So she sat on the outskirts of camp, the way Nate had gone, and watched.

One horse came into view. Then two. A third, and she was stringing her bow up, edging closer, staying low to the ground. In the dark, from this distance, she couldn't see
who
it was. She could only hope.

"You no-good sons of bitches," Nate shouted, reining up near the two corpses by the road. "Where the hell'd you go?"

Eddie stood. "Did you find Katsu?"

In answer, Nate swung down, hauling a bundle with him. The bundle groaned and cursed.

"Shit, is he sick too?" If he was, they were all screwed.

"Hurt," Nate answered shortly. "Broken ribs. Broken arm. Found him on the road beside another corpse and two dead horses." He didn't bother putting Katsu down, just switched his hold and carried the smaller man, following Eddie back toward their camp. One of those Nate had left behind had some small wood magic; enough to shelter them from a casual gaze.

Carefully, Nate knelt beside Ashe, bringing Katsu low enough to touch him. "This wasn't the best plan ever, Katsu," Nate murmured, and Eddie wondered what their fearless leader had learned.

"I didn't think they'd toss one of us and not the other," Katsu grumbled, strain clear in his voice. "Or that they'd try and kill me instead of just shoving me out."

"You're sure you can fix it?"

Katsu settled one hand on Ashe's face, slid it down the pale throat, pushed the blanket aside to find the slim chest. "I..." He frowned, firelight casting deeper shadows between his brows. "Everything's shut down so badly..."

Nate didn't so much as move, perched beside one invalid, acting as brace and chair for the other. Katsu moved slightly, and Eddie winced at the blood smeared across one swollen eye and pooling in his ear. In the darkness, it matched his inky black hair.

Then Katsu relaxed. As if mirroring Katsu, the tension drained out of Ashe's body, and Ashe took a deep breath for the first time in hours.

"Yes," Katsu said, and his smile wasn't smug as it usually was, but relieved. "I can fix it."

***

"So explain to me what happened," Eddie murmured, riding close to Nate as they started off. Ashe was still weak, Katsu in vast amounts of pain, but Nate was pushing onward. Better to leave, Eddie guessed, lest Byron realize he'd been played.

Nate's eyes lingered on Katsu, who rode his horse stiffly, arm splinted and in a sling. "He killed those people we found, and convinced the rest he was carrying a plague. When Byron fell ill, they threw Katsu out."

It seemed entirely too simple. Plus, it was
Katsu
. Eddie watched Katsu, his spine ramrod straight, lines of pain and exhaustion etched into his face. "How'd he fake a plague?"

Nate's gaze turned considering. Eddie had seen that look before, when he weighed the pros and cons for a new battle strategy. "I don't know."

***

Ashe paused at the top of the rise, looking down the few feet to the little creek that burbled through the stand of trees. Katsu knelt there, awkwardly filling a canteen with one hand. His other hand was strapped to his chest, arm bound and splinted for the foreseeable future. Or at least six weeks, which seemed like the foreseeable future to Ashe.

He was certain he hadn't made any noise, hadn't dislodged any rubble. Somehow Katsu sensed him anyway. Katsu turned slightly, looking back, gaze meeting Ashe's. There was a strained silence before Katsu turned to the creek again.

They hadn't had a chance to talk. Not since Katsu had given Ashe herbs that would have killed him, if the others hadn't found the medic. Would have killed him slowly, in agony. Like the bodies they'd passed, twisted in death that Katsu had caused.

Ashe began to edge away.

"Sorry."

The word came after him, but nothing followed it. He watched the line of Katsu's back, the tension under Katsu's tunic. "For what?" Ashe asked, trying for nonchalance.

Katsu pinned the canteen between his feet, jammed the cork back in with a deftly wrapped bit of leather to keep it there, and stood with a wince. Gone was his fluidity, and Ashe didn't know when it would be back. He'd only caught a glimpse of bruises down one side of Katsu's body, but a glimpse was enough. "I don't know," Katsu said gruffly. "For whatever you're upset about. Making you so sick, I guess."

Ashe paused on his words, about to reassure Katsu that of course he wasn't upset about that.

He wasn't.

He was more disturbed at the bodies littering the road back toward the city, horses and people both. "How did you kill them?" He hadn't meant to ask. He didn't really want to know. And yet, he found he had to know. "They wouldn't have taken herbs you gave them, like I did."

Katsu wouldn't meet his gaze. "You'd call it magic, I guess." Ashe knew Katsu would call it chakra. The fact that he hadn't called it that meant something, but Ashe didn't know what. Katsu started to shrug, hissed and winced, and shook his head slightly instead. His dark eyes bored into the ground. "I just... stopped their organs from working." The last was said swiftly.

Not swiftly enough to go unheard. Ashe looked at him, mentally charting the tattoos hidden under Katsu's clothes, remembering how he had moved Ashe's own magic, forced life to keep pumping, when Ashe's body would have given up a few weeks before. "Did you do that to me?" He asked. "Stop my organs?"

The muscles in Katsu's narrow jaw jumped. "I knew the herbs would keep you alive awhile. They're expensive. Sold your stuff for them, but I knew they'd keep you alive..." He trailed off. The hand holding the canteen tightened. The bag twisted slightly with the pressure. "Long enough for me to find you, I hoped."

"So you can kill people with a touch," Ashe clarified slowly. It was almost impossible to believe. This was
Katsu
, their medic, who saved their lives and stopped infection and patched them up when they were hurt. Who could kill with a touch.

"I don't like to," Katsu muttered.

Ashe stood there for a long moment. It turned his world upside down, and he wasn't sure Katsu was worth it. Katsu barely seemed to tolerate him when they weren't having sex, wouldn't talk about himself, and now Ashe found out that he could kill just by
touching
someone. That he was willing to sentence someone to an ugly, painful death.

Ashe turned again. The others were having lunch not far off, pausing on their way back over the border. He'd go sit with Nate, apologize again for causing such a problem that they weren't even going to get paid for--

Katsu spoke quickly, words running together. "The man who helped me when I first arrived in this country, he taught me how to make coffee."

Ashe stopped. He turned and looked back, utterly confused. Katsu was looking at him now, alternately defensive and pleading. Ashe didn't bother hiding his bafflement. "What?"

"You asked." Katsu waved the canteen. "Yesterday morning. You asked where I learned to make coffee. Eddie said you thought I didn't like you because I don't... well, I don't talk. But..." He scowled up at Ashe. "Do I really have to say this?"

"Yes." Ashe faced him. "You do."

Katsu lifted his hand as if he was going to rub his head, then stopped when the canteen nearly whacked him in the face. "I learned to make coffee from the man who took me in. And I can kill people with a touch if I really try, but I hate doing it. And I wouldn't have come after you if I didn't like you." He scuffed the dirt, glowering down. His Adam's apple bobbed in a hard swallow. "Please don't leave because I killed people to free you," he added miserably.

Ashe stared for a moment, emotions whirling inside him. Then he tossed both his hands up and plopped down in the dirt. He'd never been good at distancing himself from people. "You are
so
difficult!"

Katsu looked up hopefully. After a moment, his expression lightened and he ascended the small hill, turning to sit carefully beside Ashe. "So... you're not going to panic on me?"

Ashe gave a humorless huff of a laugh and shook his head. They sat, silent, each with their own thoughts, though Katsu seemed more like he was waiting than anything.

"How long have you been in this country?" Ashe asked finally.

Katsu stared at the ground between his boots. "A few years. Maybe six."

"You speak our language pretty well." Almost entirely without an accent, giving Ashe no clues to where Katsu had come from.