Path of the Sun: A Novel of Dhulyn and Parno (46 page)

Only when the angle of the setting sun made it useless to look for tracks did Dhulyn agree to stop for the night.

“We really didn’t need to be so careful today,” Parno said. He watched as Dhulyn cleaned and skinned a rabbit she’d shot as they rode. “Star-Wind said they were three days out at least when their outriders found our Brothers in the trap. We’re at least a day’s ride away ourselves.” He handed her the skewer from their parcel of cooking implements.

“Better cautious than cursing,” Dhulyn said.

The rabbit was a small one, and they made short work of it. Parno was wondering whether to break out his pipes for some music—perhaps he could even encourage Dhulyn to sing—when she broke the silence herself.

“I’d better take the first watch.”

Parno tilted his head to look at her more closely by the flickering light of the fire. “It’s my turn,” he said.

“I don’t feel like sleeping just yet,” Dhulyn said. She hesitated, frowning, before adding, “I am a little afraid of having a Vision, to be honest.” She blinked and looked away. “I fear meeting them again and seeing their real selves. It would break my heart.” She sighed.

Parno rocked back a bit in surprise, then nodded. “I can see that,” he said. “No pun intended. Come.” He shifted until he was sitting leaning against his pack and saddle. “Put your head in my lap and sleep,” he told her. “If you are Seeing and I think you’re in a bad way, I’ll wake you.”

DHULYN NOW KNOWS THAT THE THIN, SANDY-HAIRED MAN IS BEKLUTH ALLAIN. HE IS STILL WEARING THE GOLD RINGS IN HIS EARS, BUT HIS FACE IS LINED NOW, AND HIS FOREHEAD HIGHER. HE IS SITTING AT A SQUARE TABLE, ITS TOP INLAID WITH LIGHTER WOODS, READING BY THE LIGHT OF TWO LAMPS. A PLATE TO HIS LEFT CONTAINS THE REMNANTS OF A MEAL—CHICKEN OR SOME OTHER FOWL, JUDGING BY THE BONES. HE GLANCES TOWARD THE ROOM’S SINGLE WINDOW AND RISES TO LOOK OUT. HE MUST HAVE STEPPED IN SOMETHING WET, FOR HIS FEET, CLAD IN THE EMBROIDERED FELT OF HOUSE SLIPPERS, LEAVE MARKS ON THE FLOOR. IT IS DARK OUTSIDE, FORDHULYN CAN SEE NOTHING THROUGH THE ARCH OF THE WINDOW. THE MAN TURNS TOWARD THE TABLE AGAIN AND, SMILING, SAYS, “HOW CAN I HELP?” SHE WISHES SHE KNEW THE ANSWER . . .

PEOPLE WORK IN A FIELD OF HAY. RAGGED PEOPLE, FACES DRAWN WITH EXHAUSTION. MOUNTED GUARDS PATROL THE PERIMETER OF THE FIELD, THEIR FACES MARKED WITH THE SAME FATIGUE. THE GUARDS FACE OUTWARD, WHICH TELLSDHULYN THAT THEY ARE GUARDING THE REAPERS FROM EXTERNAL DANGER, NOT FROM ESCAPE. IN THE DISTANCE THERE IS A SMALL FORTRESS, SURROUNDED BY A WALLMUCHTOO LARGEFORIT . . .

DHULYN STANDS LOOKING OUT OVER A GROUP OF RED HORSEMEN SEATED ON THE GROUND, SOME CROSS-LEGGED, SOME WITH THEIR FEET IN FRONT OF THEM AND THEIR FOREARMS RESTING ON THEIR KNEES. SHE KNOWS THIS PLACE; SHE RECOGNIZES SOME OF THE MEN IN THE GATHERING. THERE IS SUNDOG, FROWNING, AND THERE ROCK SNAKE. THERE IS ALSO A MAN SHE DOES NOT KNOW, WHO CARRIES A LONG KNIFE IN HIS HANDS. A THIN, CURVING BLADE. A BUTCHER’S KNIFE. A FLENSING KNIFE PERHAPS. BUT WHEN SHE TURNS TO LOOK WHERE EVERY MAN IN THE GROUP IS LOOKING, IT IS NOT A BROKEN SEER WHO IS HELD BETWEEN TWO STRONG GUARDS. IT IS GUNDARON OFVALDOMAR.

“GUN.” DHULYN TAKES A STEP FORWARD, BUT HER VOICE MAKES NO SOUND. . . .

THE THIN, SANDY-HAIRED MAN IS STILL WEARING THE GOLD RINGS IN HIS EARS, BUT HIS FACE IS LINED NOW, AND HIS FOREHEAD HIGHER. HE IS SITTING AT A SQUARE TABLE, ITS TOP INLAID WITH LIGHTER WOODS, WRITING IN A BOUND BOOK. THERE IS A TALL BLUE GLASS AT HIS RIGHT HAND AND A MATCHING PITCHER JUST BEYOND IT, HALF-FULL OF LIQUID. DHULYN CAN SEE THE WINDOW ON HIS FAR SIDE FROM WHERE SHE IS STANDING, AND IT IS DAYLIGHT NOW, THE SUN SHINING. THE WINDOW LOOKS OUT ON RUINS, WATCH TOWERS FALLEN, BRIDGES CRUMBLED INTO THE RIVER, STREETS FULL OF RUBBLE. THE MAN LOOKS UP, SAYING, “HOW CANI HELP?” . . .

Parno woke, completely alert in an instant. It was almost the change of watch. He folded aside his bedding, rolled to his feet, and secured his sword and daggers before stepping aside to the designated latrine and emptying his bladder. He could make out where Dhulyn sat cross-legged, a dark shape like a boulder in the light of the almost full moon. He folded his own legs and sat down next to her, close enough for their knees to touch. She turned and leaned her forehead into his shoulder, breathing deeply in through her nose. Since they had been separated in the Long Ocean and reunited in Mortaxa, there had been two Dhulyns. In front of others she was still the typical Outlander, cool and watchful, undemonstrative. But she was more likely to touch him when they were alone—and he her, now that he thought of it. In many ways, he was reminded of the days when they were first Partnered, when the bond burned fiercer than it did now.

“When I was a child, before Dorian the Black took me from the slaver’s ship, I would pray to the gods of Sun, Moon, and Stars, offering them anything, everything, if they would only restore my people to me.” Dhulyn lifted her head from his shoulder, speaking in the whisper of the nightwatch voice. “Do you think what we have found here is the answer to that prayer?”

Parno knew her tones well, and under the cool sarcasm there was a faint splash of bitterness and something that was not quite anger, not quite fear. These were night thoughts, and her earlier Vision of their friend Gundaron alone and in danger at the hands of the Espadryni did not help. He shrugged. “Didn’t you once tell me that the gods are remote, that they don’t concern themselves with every little request? After all, they have the whole world to see to.” He waved his arm at the night sky, where the stars burned in unfamiliar patterns. “And more than one world, it appears.”

She nodded. “I would hate to think I somehow caused this place to come into being.”

Parno began to laugh, tremors beginning in his belly and building until he laughed out loud. When Dhulyn shoved him, he controlled himself enough to speak. “I never thought
I’d
be the one to say this to
you
,” he said. “But you aren’t so very important, you know. The world doesn’t revolve around you, not even this one. Go on, get to sleep, my heart.”

“In Battle,” she said, standing.

“And in Death,” he answered, touching his fingers to his forehead.

 

It was well into the fourth watch of the next day, and Dhulyn was thinking they should be starting to look for a place to camp overnight when Parno pulled up on Warhammer’s reins.

“Found,” he called out to Dhulyn. “Here is a clear trail of three horses returned to the main column together, something no scouts would have done.”

Dhulyn stopped a few paces off and leaned over herself, the better to see what Parno was pointing at. “Your eye is getting better for tracking, my soul.” She straightened up. “Somewhere there to the east, I mean the west, is the trap in which our Brothers were caught.”

“Try not to kick up any of this ash,” Mar said as she picked her way carefully through the burned grasses. It looked as though there had been a fire followed by a rainstorm. In the places where their feet disturbed the surface of the ash, the sodden layer on top gave way to the dry ashes underneath. There were even one or two spots where Mar was certain she felt heat through the soles of her boots.

“This isn’t as easy as it looks.” Gun’s tone was much milder than his words suggested. He seemed to be holding up well, but Mar didn’t like the grayness of his skin. He took two more steps forward and stood swaying. Recognizing the signs, Mar was at his side to hold him up out of the black ash as he bent over, retching. Nothing but a line of saliva came out of his mouth, not even bile. His stomach was as empty as it could be.

Gun stayed bent over for several minutes, getting his breath back, and waiting for the next convulsion. Finally he straightened, but his hands went immediately out to his sides to balance himself. Mar kept her grip firmly on his waist, her lower lip between her teeth.

“Gun,” she said, trying to keep the desperation from her voice, “what can I do?”

He made the merest negative motion with his head and grimaced. “It doesn’t stop spinning,” he said.

Mar licked her lips and looked around. The sun was not nearly as bright as it had been in Menoin. It seemed more southerly, softer, and at the angle she would have expected of the Hunter’s Moon.

“A blindfold,” she said. “That’s what you need. Sit, carefully.” She helped him lower himself to the ground before she caught up the knife at her belt. Used for sharpening pens, it was more than sharp enough to cut the seam of her tunic and notch the edge of the material to tear off a wide strip. This she folded in half lengthwise and, gently pushing Gun’s hands away from his face, tied it tightly around his eyes.

“Any better?” she asked. Give his brain less to work with—or against—and it should steady down.

Gun rubbed at his upper lip, and Mar spit on the loose corner of her tunic, leaned forward, and wiped off his mouth. Until they could find a source to refill the water flasks from Alaria’s packs, that was the best she could offer him.

“Better,” he said, panting.

“Try to take deep breaths,” she said. “Deep and slow.” She smiled as he obeyed her, struggling to take in one slow shuddering breath after another. The smile faded as she straightened and looked around. Was there unburned grass over there, toward the sun? Or was she just wishing?

“Less wobbly,” Gun said.

Mar crouched down on her heels and put the back of her hand against Gun’s face and forehead. No fever that she could detect. “Can you stand?” she said. “I think I see the end of the burned section over to the east.”

“You can tell which way is east?”

Mar blinked, a spot of cold growing in her belly. “The sun’s setting,” she said. “That way’s the east, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know.” With uncanny accuracy he reached for her forearm and gripped it. “I can’t tell. Everything’s spinning.” Gun pressed his lips together and swallowed, once, twice, and again.

The cold spread from Mar’s belly up her arms. He’d said the clue had disappeared. Now he could not tell east from west.

“Your Mark?” Mar licked suddenly dry lips.

“It’s gone.”

Mar knew that Gun was doing his very best not to lean his whole weight on her, but the unburned section of prairie was farther away than it had appeared, and she was staggering by the time they reached it. She tried to lower him slowly to the ground, but her knees gave out in the last minute, and they both went down heavily onto the trampled grass. Joints and muscles screaming, Mar lay still, listening to Gun’s ragged breathing.