On the Meldon Plain (The Fourline Trilogy Book 2) (17 page)

“And what are they supposed to do? It’s not like they can cover up their eyes and skin all the time.”

“They will be the downfall of this mission, mark my words,” he said, all mirth gone from his voice.

Nat kicked her horse and slapped the reins against his neck.

Benedict swayed, then righted himself. “Slow down!” he bellowed as they raced through the grass.

“You can ride with Andris,” she said but slowed the horse. If he fell off and hurt himself, Andris would probably make her carry him to Rustbrook. “Why do you hate them so much?”

“They’re half Nala. Even a fringer like yourself knows that,” he sniffed.

“But they’re half human, too.”

“Makes no difference when the other half is foul. They have no place among the rest of us.”

“Really? So if a Nala bit you today, off you’d go into the forest?” She gestured toward the distant woods.

“If a Nala turned me into a duozi?” Raspy laughter spilled from his mouth. It turned to coughing, and Benedict’s face became a splotchy crimson. Nat slapped his back. Her horse tossed his head to the side in agitation. Benedict wiped his eyes and spit into the grass.

“What’s so funny?” She loosened the reins, letting the horse pause. He lowered his head to the ground and bit into the blades of grass.

“What did they teach you?” Benedict twisted in the saddle to make eye contact with Nat. “Nala only make the young, strong ones duozi. The rest they kill. I have about as much chance of being made a duozi as you do of becoming a Head Sister.” His eyes traveled to the markings on her arm. “Waste,” he muttered.

“You didn’t answer my question.” She pulled sharply on the reins and urged her horse toward the others. The animal snorted in protest. “Hypothetically, if you were a duozi, would you voluntarily leave humans and go into the forest?”

“Yes,” he responded with irritation. “I’d go into the forest and accept my fate. A duozi that remains around humans invites trouble and creates chaos.”

“Annin doesn’t invite trouble. She’s solved more problems than I can think of.”

“Given your apparent lack of aptitude for thought, I’m not surprised.”

Nat eyed the grass, thinking maybe the thick foliage would break his fall.

“They make you think what they want you to think, twist your thoughts by weaving falsity into your dreams.” He drew circles above his head, nearly knocking into Nat’s nose.

“I don’t believe you,” she said, sick of listening to the generalizations and insults.

“You want an example? Fine. One of them drove my mother mad. I watched it happen myself. My father waited too long before he sent her away.”

“Sent who away?”

“My sister.” He straightened his back and looked toward the horizon. “My sister was a duozi. After she was bitten, my mother tried everything to cure her. Mind you, my mother was a rational woman, a scientist. She’d studied with the Sisters and knew more about herbs and plants than anyone else we knew. But after my sister was bitten, my mother lost all logic. She became frantic, impulsive, and completely inconsolable. My brother Berndle and I thought it was grief, but we were wrong.”

In the distance, Annin and Soris dismounted near a cluster of wide-canopied trees. Andris looped his reins through a ring on Soris’ saddle and did the same with Annin’s horse, making an equine train.

“You think it was something else?” she asked, prodding him to continue with the story before they reached the others. She wondered if Berndle was the Chemist or if Benedict had another brother.

“Unquestionably. The Nala lurked in the forest near our farm. My sister would spend hours sitting near the tree line, staring into the woods with her nasty Nala eye. She used her half-breed way on all of us. She called hundreds of spiders on Berndle once when he cornered her in the barn.”

“Called spiders?”

“You haven’t seen them do it?” He nodded toward Soris and Annin. “I’ve seen her call creatures more than once. I don’t know about the other one.”

“His name’s Soris.” Nat took a deep breath, trying to suppress her growing anger.

“He’s no longer Soris, just like my sister was no longer my sister.”

“I’m not sure what’s clouding your mind, but other than the physical changes, Soris is the same.”

“You think so? Has he tried to get into your dreams yet?”

Nat tensed, remembering how Soris had seen her dream the night after he’d been bitten.

Benedict took her silence for affirmation and continued in his nasal voice. He eyed her. “My sister was my triplet. She used that connection to wheedle her way into my dreams, but I learned to shut her out. My mother did not.” He paused. A sparrow flew in front of them, chasing a blue-winged bird away from a copse of trees.

“My mother woke up every night for months screaming. She’d scramble to find Brenia, like the girl was in danger. But we were the ones in danger. Finally, my father did what all the neighbors had been telling him to do for months and sent her away into the woods where she belonged. I never saw her again. But she wasn’t done with us, or with my mother. Night after night my mother would wake up screaming for Brenia. She’d scream and cry for hours. My sister was still twisting her dreams, you see. She wanted her and invaded my mother’s mind, poisoning her against my dad, Berndle, and me.” He stared at his hands.

“What happened to your mom?” Nat asked in a hushed voice.

“I fell sick.” He gestured to his leg. “Mother couldn’t travel, wouldn’t even try to heal me, so Father took me to the Healing House. When he returned, Berndle told him our mother had deserted us and gone into the woods in search of my sister. I never saw my mother again. Two years later I saw my father and brother. By then my father was so gone to drink that the Sisters wouldn’t let me stay home. They brought me right back to the Healing House. I lived there until my sixteenth birthday, when I learned Father had passed away. I went into the service of Emilia and Estos’ parents immediately after. Never even returned home. There was nothing to return to.”

“What about your brother?”

“The Chemist? You know what happened to him, Sister. He devoured my mother’s books and journals, but without my mother to guide him, his path took a dark turn. My sister destroyed my family, you see, each of us in a different way. That’s what they do, destroy the ones around them, the ones who love them.”

Nat halted her horse several paces from Andris. She watched Annin uncap a water flask and pass it to Soris. Water ran down his chin, soaking the edge of his shirt where the skin was blue.

“I’ll take him from here.” Andris grasped the reins. “They’ll just make the horse jumpy.” He nodded toward Annin and Soris. Nat slid off the saddle quickly, wanting to get away from Benedict. He moved stiffly, bringing his leg around and dismounting with a thud.

“Take my word, Sister, it’s what they do,” he said to her back as she walked toward Soris.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Nat watched a pair of sparrows chase each other down the lush green folds of the valley toward the port town. The tiny black specks disappeared in the sparkling reflection of the sun on the Rust River. She squinted in the bright light and turned her attention from the sparrows to the town, looking for any sign of Andris. He should have been back by now, whether he’d found a boat in town or not.

Seeing nothing, Nat settled back onto the tree limb, rubbed her tired eyes, and listened to the warble of the birds darting around the trees above them. Snoring disrupted the birdsong. Below her, Benedict was propped up against the base of the tree, his chin tucked against his chest. A field mouse sat brazenly beneath his clasped hands and nibbled on crumbs hidden in the folds of his worn tunic.

Annin sat some distance away from Benedict. Her moss-colored hood hung low, camouflaging her black hair as she scanned the valley. Soris lay next to her with his elbows digging into the ground, staring in the same direction. Every few minutes Annin would tilt her head or nod, and Soris would follow the path of her gaze. Low murmurs floated from the pair toward Nat, who was perched above them all.

Andris wanted her to be the neutral party, which meant not spending too much time with Soris or Annin in Benedict’s presence. She wondered if Andris had more than Benedict on his mind when he’d admonished her to keep some distance from Soris. She’d caught Andris watching Soris’ relaxed interaction with her before they’d left the barn. He’d looked like he’d swallowed a lemon wedge.

Nat pulled her knee toward her chest and rubbed the cramp in her calf muscle. Soris looked her way. The sun played against his concave eye. She focused on his curly hair and human eye, and he was the same person she’d met months ago. He wasn’t a dream-twisting monster bent on luring them to the Nala like Benedict claimed. Soris beckoned her, and his entire face came into focus. Nat glanced at Benedict’s sleeping form. His snoring continued, interrupted by a grunt.
He’ll never know,
she thought and slipped to the ground. She crawled toward Soris, staying low in the grass.

“Nice of you to finally join us,” Annin said while keeping her eyes locked on the distant town with the silvery river running past it.

“She was just doing what Andris told her to do.” Soris inched closer to Annin, giving Nat a better view of the valley and the river between the blades of grass.

“You heard him?” Nat looked at Soris with surprise. She’d been certain Andris’ directive had been well out of earshot.

“‘Keep your distance from them. It’ll be easier for me to manage the Hermit if you three aren’t constantly banding together.’” Soris mimicked his brother’s clipped tone.

“Since when do you listen to Andris?” Annin plucked a blade of grass and twisted it around her finger. “Especially when it comes to Soris,” she added. A confused look crossed Soris’ face.

“He had a point,” Nat said and swallowed her retort. Annin had grown surlier with each day in Benedict’s presence. Nat had spent the last few hours wondering how they were going to make it to the outskirts of Rustbrook with the constant bitter back-and-forth between Benedict and Annin. A verbal spar with Annin now wouldn’t help the mood. “With Oberfisk gone, Benedict might feel outnumbered.”

Annin turned her head away and pulled blade after blade of grass from the ground. Nat pressed on, hoping to convince her Benedict was worth tolerating. “We really may need him. I’d rather have someone who knows the Chemist as well as he does helping us. Wouldn’t you?”

“No.” She dropped a fistful of grass onto the ground. “Leave him tied to the tree for the crows.”

“I don’t know how much help he’s going to be, Natalie,” Soris said, ignoring her silent plea for help. “You saw the Chemist. Their faces are the same, but their bodies are nothing alike. No one is going to believe Benedict is the Chemist.”

“We can pad him up, make him look bulkier. Annin, you lived in a costume shop for years, you know what we can do to alter his appearance.”

“Why are you taking his side?” Annin glowered at her.

“I’m not taking his side.” Nat glanced at Benedict to make sure he was still asleep. “What he did to you and Neas was wrong. But I think I have a better understanding of why his thinking is so twisted.”

“Better understanding? Are you serious? He wants all the duozi gone, annihilated. I sometimes think he considers us more of an enemy than the Nala.” A flush flooded Annin’s pale cheeks.

“Then let’s show him who the duozi really are and what they can do, and change his mind.”

Annin yanked her hood from her head and leaned over inches from Nat’s face. “You’re not one of us, so stop trying to tell us what we should do.”

Her words pierced the air. Nat opened her mouth to speak but felt a strong hand grasp her leg. Soris’ eyes were full of warning. Nat shrugged him off. She thought of the full-blown lingering prejudices rife in her world. “Trying to create understanding will lead to a better result than despising those that fear you. All hatred does is create more conflict, more war.”

“You sound like an Emissary Sister, not a Warrior Sister,” Annin said. “Maybe that should have been your House, given what happened to Soris.”

Nat sat back as if slapped.

“Annin,” Soris said sharply.

“Two duozi, including my brother, arguing, a sleeping Hermit, and a noisy Sister. I could have killed all of you three times over.” Andris emerged from behind the trees. The dark material of Mudug’s guard’s uniform stretched taut over his shoulders, and the white sun on the sleeve appeared ready to rip.

Nat stood and swiftly walked away from them. Her cheeks burned from the sting of Annin’s verbal attack.

“You’re speechless, Sister! That’s a first. Rouse the sleeper,” he called after her and waved at Benedict.

Nat shook Benedict’s thin shoulder and he jumped.

“Andris is back,” she said in a strained voice. Leaf-shaped shadows played over his face as Nat helped him to his feet. She stepped away after he steadied himself, wanting distance from all of them, but Andris, Annin, and Soris walked up to the tree.

“I’ve secured a boat for Mudug’s personal guard, me.” Andris paused, oblivious to Nat’s discomfort. He looked at each of them in turn as if assessing their value before continuing. “I’m leaving in an hour. There’s a sharp bend in the river three miles south of here. You four ride to the bend and wait for me in the trees. I want Soris in the front leading and Annin bringing up the rear. Stash the saddles. Let the horses go once you see me. Any questions?” He crossed his arms. “Good, don’t muddle this up.” He unbuckled his saddlebag and retrieved the guard’s black leather pouch full of riven. He gestured to Benedict, who limped through the grass. Andris lifted him onto his horse as if he weighed no more than a child.

“My horse is too much for Benedict. If he falls off, you need to help him back up. Am I clear?” he said as he gave Nat a slight boost. She swung her leg over her saddle, still reeling from Annin’s words.

“Yes,” she mumbled.

Soris lingered nearby, glancing from Annin to Nat. “Natalie, are you all right?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she said and kept her head low.

“Get moving, Soris.” Andris gestured to the hills. Nat kept her eyes fixed on her horse’s mane and away from everyone else. Soris kicked his horse. The animal responded instantly with a lunge forward, passing Nat and Benedict.

“Remember what I said before, keep Annin in line.” Andris nodded toward Annin, who flew on top of her horse and circled behind Benedict. The Hermit clutched the reins as he cursed at her.

“I’m not sure I can keep anyone in line,” Nat replied.

“Well, use those brains of yours, Sister, to figure out how.” He stepped back a few paces and smacked the back of her horse to send him racing after the others.

Nat sat on the ground near the bend, peering through the spindly bushes. She set her sword in the sandy soil and rolled her orb in her hands, looking across the sandbar to where the river abruptly turned and merged with a rust-colored tributary. Water lapped over the red mud of the riverbank. Benedict huddled near a rotted root ball. Blood trickled from beneath the bandage pressed against his forehead.

“Hold still.” Annin peeled the blood-soaked wad of cloth off his forehead. She held his face steady with her palm as she spread an opaque ointment over the cut. Blood mixed with the ointment, leaving a pink smear. Annin quickly covered the wound with a fresh bandage.

“Keep your hand here.” She brought his palm to his temple. “Do you have another bandage? I’m out,” she asked Nat without looking at her.

Nat tossed her satchel to Annin and kept her gaze focused on the river, watching for Andris and wondering how much longer Annin would keep up her cold demeanor. She’d agreed to patch up Benedict after his fall from Andris’ horse because Soris had insisted. She’d flat-out refused Nat’s request.

Annin ferreted through the contents of the satchel and extracted a thin piece of cloth. She tied the strip around the bandage and secured it behind Benedict’s head. Benedict closed his eyes. “You’re lucky.” Annin gathered the old bloody bandage and remaining strips of cloth. “The rock missed the blood vessel by a hair’s breadth.”

“I feel anything but lucky.” He opened his eyes and watched Annin as she collected the remaining debris. He shifted as if sitting on a cactus.

“Don’t thank me or anything. I could have left you in that gully to bleed your brains out.” She spun away with her hands full of bloody garbage.

Nat glanced at Benedict. His chin pressed into his chest, he gently probed the area around the wound with his fingers. “She’s lying, you know,” she said to the Hermit.

“Hmm?” He lifted his head. Puffy purple bags hung below his eyes in contrast to the pale pallor of his skin.

“She would have helped you even if Soris hadn’t insisted,” Nat said. She knew Annin’s initial refusal to help Benedict was because Annin was still mad at her. “She’s too much Ethet’s apprentice not to,” she added, swallowing her earlier hurt. Even if Annin had castigated her and was now ignoring her, she had to try to create the unity they needed to get through this mission.

Benedict didn’t respond. The corners of his mouth turned down. She looked away toward the river and sighed.
What am I supposed to say when he won’t even acknowledge that she helped him?
Andris wanted her to keep the peace, to keep Annin in line, but Benedict was the real problem. She let go of the branch, and the leaves sprang back into place, obscuring her view of the river.

“Why can’t you put your feelings about them aside?” she asked.

He looked up, startled by her question.

“You locked her in a cabinet when she was a child, but she just willingly helped you. The least you can do is say thank you after she bandaged your head.”

“How did you know . . . ?”

“About the cabinet? She’s been in my head twisting my dreams.” The sarcasm was heavier than she’d intended, but she let her tongue fly when she saw his eyes narrow. “And Soris asked that she help you despite knowing that you ratted out Neas.”

“Who?”

“You don’t even remember his name.” She crossed her arms and shook her head at the old man. “The boy we met in Yarsburg, the boy you forced from his family, from his home. Mudug’s guards turned him over to the Nala. The Nala enslaved him along with a hundred other duozi children just like him.” She stepped closer to the Hermit. “You talk like you’re the savior of humanity, but your anger and hatred serve the needs of the Nala. You’re no better than Mudug.”

“Don’t you dare.” His voice cut through the quiet whoosh of the rushing river. He pushed his hands into the ground as he tried to straighten his thin leg into position to stand. “I’ve devoted my life to the regency. What have you done, Sister? What have you done?”

The anger that had flared in her subsided as she watched him take ragged breath after ragged breath. She was supposed to keep the peace, and what had she done?
Alienated and made everyone mad, that’s what I’ve done,
she thought in silent response to his question.

He looked past the bushes to the river, refusing to meet her eyes. She turned away. What both of them needed at this moment was some time apart. She hurriedly ducked under the bushes and trees into a clearing. She dropped into the long grass and hugged her knees, feeling like a hypocrite.
Nice job, Nat. You preach to Annin about patience and understanding, then you get so riled that now Benedict won’t even look at you.

Horses whinnied, and Nat looked down the clearing to see Soris struggling with her horse. Soris slipped his hand over the bridle of Nat’s unsaddled mount. The horse reared, knocking him to the ground before taking off to join the others running free. Nat jumped up and ran down the sloped tree line. She reached for Soris’ hand and helped him to his feet.

“Good riddance.” Soris slapped the dust from his clothes as he watched the horses pause at the top of a hill. “They’re jumpier around me now than when we first got them.” He brushed off his sleeves, and Nat plucked a leaf out of his blond hair. His eyes settled on hers. “How are you? You haven’t been too talkative since we left Andris.”