Six Heirs (13 page)

“Try to buy everything from one place. There’s no use letting the whole village memorize your face.”

“Yes.”

“And catch up to us quickly.”

“Yes. Is that all? This all seems rather complicated for going through such a dangerous village.”

“This is serious, Yan. We may all end up dead within the next centiday. Try not to forget that.”

“Thanks for the encouragement.”

They stopped shortly after, to let Léti mount Yan’s horse. Then she and her aunt set off. Grigán was just about to leave, too, when Yan stopped him.

“Hey...if all this turns out to be some plot to get rid of me, I won’t think it’s funny at all.”

The warrior turned to him, looking honestly offended.

“I said you could come with us, so you’re coming. I’m not in the habit of going back on my word.”

He urged his horse to a slow trot, then turned over his shoulder with a smile and shouted, “In any case, you’re the one bringing the food!”

Yan was more than reassured. Apparently, Grigán had fully accepted him as part of the group.

He set out at a quick pace toward the little village. He missed his companions already.

Despite strong motivation, it took Yan quite a while to get to Jerval. It was a little too late now, but they should have separated much closer to the little village. He could have at least avoided another forced march.

Relieved, he saw that everything looked calm; he could tell from the distant silhouettes that the others had passed through with no problem. Luckily.

For the first time in his life, Yan wasn’t in the Matriarchy. Interested, his eyes searched in all directions trying to commit this new landscape to memory. But it turned out that Jerval was a lot like Eza, and he was fairly disappointed. The inhabitants were dressed in a different way, and the architecture was different. That was all.

In fact, all the Upper Kingdom’s villages must look alike, and after all, this one was only a two-day ride from his own. Bénélia, Lorelia—the big cities would be a real change.

He approached a group of children who were playing with wooden swords and asked them where he could buy a horse. They stared at him blankly. Curses, he had spoken in Kauli without realizing it. He asked the question again in Ithare, hoping that these kids had received their education from the Eurydian priests.

Their faces lit up, and they dragged him to an alley where there was a paddock. A bald, portly man came to meet him and started a conversation with him in a businesslike tone.

The deal was quick. Yan chose a horse, his only criterion being its color; unfortunately, he wasn’t an expert on the subject. Then he bargained a little to agree on a price of nine terces for the animal and a basic harness. The young man didn’t even have to use his prepared lies; the breeder couldn’t care less what he was going to do with his horse.

Yan asked the oldest child who was still following him to go fetch the other goods he needed. He gave him three silver terces and a promise to leave him a share. The boy left running, with the rest of the group behind him.

The breeder brought out the chosen harness and let the horse out of the paddock. Yan turned the straps every which way, trying awkwardly to attach them to the animal, which shook them off each time. The merchant finally gave him a hand, shaking his head with an exasperated look.

Finally the horse was ready, and Yan stroked its neck while waiting for the kids. They were taking quite a while. He moved toward the end of the alley and looked down the main road. A little one bolted when he saw Yan.

All right. He had learned something today: Lorelien children were not necessarily honest.

He bought his own goods with the money he had left, loaded up his horse, and climbed on. He was relieved that it let him. Then he directed his new horse toward the village.

Laughter came from a side street. Yan leaned over to look down the street and saw some of the kids pointing at him, bent double with laughter. He squinted and pointed right back at them, making a snake hiss, as if he were casting some terrible curse on them. The kids’ eyes grew wide and they scattered. Yan was pleasantly surprised at how effective it was.

He rejoined Grigán, Corenn, and Léti less than a half league outside the village.

“Well, apparently everything went well,” Grigán commented.

“Are you kidding? I was attacked by a gang of young ogres who would have eaten me alive if I hadn’t used my courage and wit to escape.”

“Right, that’s it.”

“There were at least twenty of them, armed with knives a foot long, and drool dripped from their poisonous teeth and foul-smelling mouths.”

“Sure. Come on, let’s go.”

“Their bloodshot eyes glared at me with murderous intent, and I really thought my time had come, when suddenly the one who must have been their leader raised his arm to the sky and broke into song. The others joined in soon after:
The crab and the lobster go two by two, the crab and the lobster never feel blue
...”

“Isn’t that a nursery rhyme?”

“Yeah, I didn’t get why they were singing it either.”

Even Léti, who was intent on continuing her moping, laughed along with them.

Grigán didn’t decide to stop until after the sixth deciday, almost nightfall. As usual, he guided the small caravan off the path, toward a little forest that they had happened upon. They crossed a clearing, continued on to a second, and it wasn’t until they came to a third that the warrior gave the go-ahead to set up camp, only after first scouting the surroundings.

They ate before anything else, as hunger was gnawing at their stomachs. By the time they finished eating, they all felt lethargic, exhaustion from their ride and the poor sleep from the night before making themselves known.

Yan had started putting together a rudimentary bed for the night when Grigán interrupted.

“We’d better pitch a tent for tonight. I don’t trust the color in the sky. I wouldn’t be surprised if we get rained on.”

“Cursed, I’m cursed. First ogres, and now rain.”

Gathering his strength, he took it on himself to set up the two tents they had: Grigán’s and Corenn’s. He was going to sleep with the man in black; under normal circumstances, that might have annoyed him a little, but tonight he didn’t give a margolin’s ass about it, as long as he could sleep.

Soon, everyone was in bed except for Grigán, who said he wanted to keep a night watch for a while and attend to the horses. Yan wondered if he ever tired. He admitted to himself again that it was reassuring to have Grigán there. As for Yan, he fell asleep immediately.

He awoke a few decidays later, in the middle of the night. The warrior lay by his side, and silently turned over in his sleep. Yan hadn’t even heard him come in.

A scattered rain was falling on the outer canvas, and a light wind fluttered the fabric, slack in areas.

Yan shifted onto his back and tried to fall back asleep. The pain in the nape of his neck, where Grigán had hit him the night before, had returned. He massaged it a bit, which didn’t bring much relief. Since the pain was keeping him from dozing off, he let his thoughts wander, as he was wont to do.

At that time just the night before, he was struggling his way through the thick brush of the Kaulien shrubland. Now he was in Lorelia, sharing a tent with a stranger who had almost killed him. Where would he be tomorrow? And after that?

Although the circumstances hardly lent themselves to happiness, he was glad that these events had disrupted his routine life. But it was also true that he hadn’t yet encountered any real dangers, unlike Léti, Corenn, and Grigán.

Were there really people out to kill them? Despite his companions’ accounts, he had a hard time believing it. What could these Züu killers be like? Based on the description Corenn gave, he imagined them as being very tall and strong, with sadistic eyes, dressed in plain tunics stained with blood. And, of course, all of them were armed with poisoned daggers, injecting venom into their pleading victims, like a cold-hearted snake.

He could now picture a man dressed in red leather perfectly. All he could see was his back, then very slowly, he turned around. Horrified, the young man recognized his face: the Zü was none other than Grigán!

Yan awoke with a start.

He had managed to get back to sleep after all. But what a nightmare...

The back of his neck hurt more than ever and he felt a little feverish. Anxiety, due to the realistic aspects of his dream, surely.

He decided to go out for a little walk. He cautiously rose to his knees and slowly made for the tent flap.

A hand clasped his calf, and he couldn’t contain a yelp of surprise.

“Where are you going?”

The warrior’s voice didn’t even sound sleepy. Yan tried hard to regain his calm.

“I can’t sleep. I’m just going out for some fresh air.”

“Don’t go far,” Grigán ordered as he released the boy. “And don’t light a fire.”

“No, no, of course not,” Yan answered, annoyed.

The warrior had really startled him.

The cool night air and the drizzle calmed him down. He massaged his neck again, then paced about at random, ending up near the horses. Grigán had built a makeshift shelter for the animals out of a few branches and had also gathered some feed. Yan hadn’t even thought of that. He had so much to learn: look after the horses, use a bow and arrow, develop a sense of direction, and lots of other things. He, who had always wanted to travel, was beginning to realize he’d never get very far on his own.

Even though he was anxious to learn to use a bow and arrow, he hoped he would never really have to shoot someone.

However, if someone went after Léti...

That reminded him. What day was it? Yan was far from knowing his calendar by heart, and he imagined the same went for his companions. But that was fine, after all. The name of
the day didn’t matter that much, so long as he didn’t forget that it was the ninth day before the Day of the Promise.

Up until now, things hadn’t been going so well. Léti was really shaken by recent events, and Yan hoped she would feel better soon. He was apprehensive enough before all of this, but now he’d never be able to ask her if her mood didn’t improve.

The rain began to penetrate his clothes, and he quickly made his way back to the tent. He had to force himself to sleep a little: the coming days were likely to be exhausting.

Maz Lana held her breath as she pushed open the front door to the little isolated farmhouse. She knew it had been uninhabited for several dékades, but still, she was more or less expecting to come face-to-face with one of its former residents. Or the former resident’s corpse.

The house belonged to the Romine branch of her family, which she had never known, descendants of the same Maz Achem as she.

She had been looking for them since the day after she arrived at the Mestèbe temple, and with patience she had discovered the place where the wise emissary had spent his final years.

She wasn’t surprised to learn that her distant cousins had recently been assassinated for no apparent reason. Surprised, no. Saddened, yes. The tragedy merely confirmed her fears.

The door was blocked; locked, maybe. Lana circled the house, hoping to find another entry, but there was none, unless perhaps through the roof.