No Quarter (36 page)

"You're sure?" Karlene asked, more for the sake of asking than because she doubted Magda's word.

The young healer nodded, swallowed once, swallowed twice, and began to shake so hard she lost her grip on the crutch Gerek had made her.

Without thinking, Gerek shoved the rope he'd been leading Bannon with into Vree's hands and raced to his sister's side. "It all right," he murmured into her hair as she flung herself into his arms. "I'm here. I've got you."

Vree stared down at the twisted hemp lying across her palm and slowly closed her fingers around it. Then she turned to look at Bannon who could have, should have, used that moment to escape. He was staring in turn at Gerek and Magda as though he'd never seen comfort offered before.

"…
if anyone talked about my sister the way you talk about Vree, I'd beat the
living shit out of him
."

Watching Gerek, Bannon felt as though he were forcing his way to understanding through an opposing army. He kept catching glimpses of it, but every time he thought he was getting close, another sword, another shield, another soldier, slammed into his way.

Because he was so totally unaware of her, Vree allowed her gaze to linger. In spite of the stubble, he looked younger than she remembered. *I wish…* Her mental voice trailed off.

*What?*

I
wish that, just once, Bannon had held me while I cried
.

Gyhard heard the thought so clearly he couldn't pretend he hadn't. *Did you ever give him the chance, Vree?*

Her chin rose and her mental voice maintained a bored nonchalance made completely unbelievable by the emotional turmoil surrounding it. *Don't be ridiculous. Assassins never cry; they allow the hurt to build up year after year after year until the only way they can find peace is to have their daughter kill them.*

*Good thing you're not an assassin anymore.* His tone matched hers, but he reached out with what comfort he could. He was no longer surprised when she accepted it.

*Yeah. Good thing.*

"I'm going to have to get closer."

Vree snapped her head around so quickly it seemed for a moment she was looking in two directions at once. "
You're
going to have to get closer?"

Karlene sighed. She didn't need this. "Look, Vree, I said I'd give you and Gyhard a chance with Kars but he isn't the only one behind that stockade. Before you do anything, I need to find out how many dead are walking in there."

"How?"

Both women turned to face Magda, who lifted a blotchy face from Gerek's chest.

"There's
no
air kigh to send in, Karlene, and you'll
never
be able to Sing the fifth kigh from outside the stockade, not when they're total strangers. If you want to know what's going on in there,
I'll
have to do it."

"Maggi!"

She looked up at her brother. "You
know
I'm right, Ger."

He brushed at her cheeks with the palm of one hand then bent down picked up her crutch. "Okay," he growled. "It stinks, but you're right. Just be careful for a change."

"Okay. Fine." Karlene threw up her hands. "Let's all go. Let's make it a parade!"

Vree handed the rope back to Gerek and walked forward until she stood a hands span from the bard. "Do you really want to do this alone?"

Karlene's shoulders sagged and she shook her head.

"Then let's get this over with."

The three women walked single file up the path. Gerek and Bannon walked side by side.

"If anything happens to her," Gerek muttered, "I might as well kill myself because I'll never survive explaining it to Annice and Father. I'm going to be in deep enough shit if they ever find out why she's using that crutch."

"
But is it like losing an arm or leg or like losing a crutch
?" Bannon's memory translated the priest's words to Imperial.

Like losing a crutch.

They'd shared every important memory from the time he was six and Vree was seven. He knew that; he'd seen the memories in her head. But they weren't his memories.

When he had her tied, like a parcel to take to the Emperor, he'd been punishing her for what she'd done to him. Had he been punishing himself? No. That was ridiculous.

Two bodies, one will, she used to say when they were working. Two bodies, two people; undeniable after what they'd been through.

He stared past Magda and Karlene at the familiar line of Vree's back. She'd made her choice. And he hated it.

Hated her choice.

For the first time in his life, he stumbled and would have fallen had Gerek not instinctively thrown out a hand and caught him.

"Are you okay?"

Bannon looked from Gerek to Vree then back again. "I don't know," he admitted at last.

Gerek glanced ahead at his own sister. "That makes two of us," he muttered.

About halfway up the valley, they stopped to rest and drink from the river.

"It'll be late afternoon by the time we get there." Karlene passed around the last of the dried fruit. "Do we camp a safe distance away and get a fresh start in the morning or do we go right up to the walls, assuming we can finish before dark?"

Vree shrugged. "What difference does it make if we can't? The walking dead are no more dead at night than they are in the day."

"But the dark can hide so many other things…" The bard turned toward the stockade and her voice took on the rhythmic cadence of tales told.

"Worse things?" Vree asked pointedly.

They'd moved only a very little bit closer when Karlene had to pull out a set of multiple pipes and play them forward. Without her help, they kept veering off along water channels and animal trails, away from the river, away from the holding.

They found the half-eaten body of the young hawk at the point where the path left the riverbank. Magda gave a little moan as Vree dropped to one knee beside it.

"What happened?"

"Probably a cat. Or two."

"Don't you
know
?"

"I know that no one crept up behind it and slit its throat, but more than that…"

She straightened and glared at the young healer. "… I don't know."

"Vree…"

"Look, I was an assassin, not slaughtering Death herself! Just because it's dead, doesn't mean I know how it got that way!" She felt Bannon's gaze, met it, and saw he understood. Of course, he did. There were some things that only Bannon
could
understand.

*And I can't?*

It had begun to seem only natural that Gyhard could hear her thoughts. *No.*

Gerek's free hand curled into a fist and he took a step toward Vree. "I think you owe my sister an apology," he growled.

Eyes blazing, Magda turned on him. "I don't
need
you trying to protect me all the time, Ger. I am
perfectly
capable of taking care of myself!"

With his guard distracted, Bannon dove forward, hit Gerek in the lower back with his shoulders driving him to the ground. At the moment of impact, he got his feet under him, took a deep breath, and used his weight and momentum to rip the rope out of Gerek's slackened grip, taking the brunt of the pressure across the muscles on the back of his neck. After a day's walking, he knew the exact extent of his hobble and measured his steps accordingly as he ran.

"Albannon Magaly, stop!"

He stopped, but he tottered on the bank of the river. If he could just force himself to fall forward, the current would soon sweep him out of range of Bardic Command and there were definitely no kigh in the water this close to the crazy old man. He swayed, began to fall; too late. A familiar arm dragged him back from the edge. Vree had realized exactly what he was going to do.

For a moment, they stood together side by side— the way they'd stood for most of their lives—then the moment passed. Vree shoved the rope into Gerek's hands and strode up the path toward the stockade.

"Vree!" Karlene ran to catch up, the others following. "It's not that easy!"

"Why not? Because the gate's closed?" Without slowing, she waved a derisive hand at the wall. "I could go over this in my sleep."

"Vree!"

When the bard grabbed her arm, she stopped so quickly Karlene stumbled forward another two paces. "Kars is behind that wall. Are we agreed?"

"Well, yes, but…"

"Then I am going either through it or over it and Gyhard is going to do whatever it is he has to do with Kars because I want something in my life settled.

Do you understand?"

"Better than you think." Karlene sighed and, greatly daring, cupped the other woman's chin in her hand. "But dearling, I'm going to ask you the question you asked me this morning; do you really want to do this alone?"

The edges of Vree's laugh had unraveled just a little. "I'm
not
alone."

"I know." Karlene turned her head so that she could see Magda and Gerek and, because it was unavoidable, Bannon. "But Gyhard isn't the only person who cares about what happens to you."

Her breathing growing fast and shallow, Vree searched for a response and couldn't find one. The only thing that came to mind was a distinct desire to run—

except that she didn't think she could control her legs.

"So what do we do next?" Gyhard asked through her mouth.

Tracing Vree's jaw with her thumb, Karlene let her hand fall away. "First, I Sing. Maybe we can get someone to open the gate."

Vree nodded and stepped back. She could feel Magda's gaze pushing against her and knew that although the bard hadn't noticed Gyhard's brief exposure, the healer had.

*You seemed…*
Terrified
. *… at a loss for words. I was just trying to help.*

*I know.*

*You're not angry.*

*Why should I be? The Imperial Army put a great deal of effort into training me to act as part of a team.* A little light-headed, she felt complete for the first time since Aralt's tower. While Bannon had been inside her head, he'd concentrated solely on getting out—he hadn't had a thought to spare for her and the barriers between them had been as thick as possible. Now, she ended where her abilities ended and Gyhard began where his started.

*No barriers?*

*Do we need them?*

He smiled. She never ceased to amaze him. *No.*

Magda frowned. She could no longer feel a definitive separation between the two kigh. That wasn't good. That couldn't be good. Could it? It was very hard to think so close to the stockade; the wrongness kept pulling at the abilities that made her a healer, leaving no room for coherent thought about anything else. She had to do something about Vree and Gyhard, but first she had to deal with Kars.

"Karlene, wait." Passing Vree, she hurried to the bard's side. "If I drop into a healing trance, I think I can tell how many damaged kigh there are. I might even be able to tell you who they are."

"Not if it puts you in any danger," Gerek protested. He pushed Bannon up against the only tree still standing in the immediate area and quickly secured him.

Shaking off the lingering effects of the Bardic Command, Bannon managed a strangled "No!" when Gerek reached for the blindfold.

The two men locked eyes for a long moment. Finally, Gerek nodded. He didn't have time to argue, not with Magda suggesting she open herself up to contact with the walking dead. Other reasons for giving in to Bannon's plea, muddier reasons, he ignored.

But when he reached his sister, it was too late for further protests to do any good. She sat on a section of log with her hands lying loose in her lap, her eyes half closed, and her breathing deep and regular. There were two vertical lines between her brows, and although he'd always thought healers healing were supposed to look serene, Magda looked distinctly unhappy.

"One living kigh," she murmured. "The dead, the dead are so hard to tell apart. I don't understand. They don't seem to care. How can they not… Oh."

That single syllable was the most heartsick sound Gerek had ever heard.

"Maggi?"

"One of them cares. One of them cares very much." Tears spilled down both cheeks. "It's so
wrong
."

"How many are there?" Karlene prodded softly, not even noticing Gerek's scowl.

"More than three. Less than ten."

The bard glanced from the healer to the stockade. "There had to have been more than ten people in there."

"Kars is a very old man and these are the second set of companions he's Sung in a short time." Vree's gaze drifted down to rest on Karlene's face. "I doubt he could manage to bring back ten."

They were Gyhard's words, Karlene realized, and perhaps more than merely his words. All at once, she remembered what Gyhard had asked Vree every morning during their quest for the prince.
Are you still sane
? She wondered why she felt so much like asking it now.

"If you Sing now, Karlene…" Magda's voice, trembling but determined, cut off speculation. "… I can tell you if your Song has any effect."

Demons. Kars sat by the hearth and tried to control his fear for Kait's sake. The rod rose and fell once again in memory.

"Stop it! Stop it! Do you want the demons to come? Do you want them to
destroy you?"

"I've been good. I've been good." He hadn't called the demons. Why were they here?

*Father?* Her eyes were wide and frightened, and her edges were beginning to spread.

"I'm sorry Kait. I'm so sorry." He wiped away tears and straightened as much as he was able. "Come here, child. You mustn't listen to the demons. They'll hurt you."

He wrapped his arms around her smoky image and Sang her Song to her over and over until she calmed.

No sound passed through the heavy earth insulating the root cellar.

"Karlene?"

Still Singing, the bards cocked an inquiring eyebrow at Magda.

"You might as well stop. Nothing's happening."

She Sang an ending, because the last thing they needed right now was more unfinished business, then said, "Nothing?"

"No." Magda sighed and swiped at the moisture on her cheeks. "Something started to happen, then it stopped. I think Kars was Singing, too."

Karlene snorted. "One old man is not going to be able to drown out my Song."