Stranger of Tempest: Book One of The God Fragments (12 page)

The look on her face was a picture. Sitain straightened up in her seat and looked Anatin in the eye for the first time. ‘No, I haven’t.’

‘Fair enough,’ he cackled, ‘just look at the arseholes I have to work with! Even one o’ my best either can’t tell the difference between an icer and an earther or he chooses the weirdest time to mess with me.’ The next instant his mirth was gone like a voice on the wind. ‘Consider it now, for a few weeks at least. I’m guessing you can’t go back home, that’s where this lot found you, no?’

‘It is.’ She glanced down at the bodies on the ground around her, lips pursed against the blood and the pained, surprised stares of the dead. ‘I’m seeing the career in a whole new light.’

‘Glad to hear it. Lynx, she’s now your responsibility. Do a better job for her than you have up to now.’

With that Anatin yanked his horse back around and headed back to the column, calling over his shoulder, ‘Two minutes to search and hide ’em. After that we move out.’

Before Lynx could investigate the purse of the man he’d killed, he found Teshen’s hand on his shoulder.

‘I’ll do that for you,’ the man said in a pointed tone. ‘Reckon he’s the richest of the lot and I stuck my neck out for you, got to be worth a commission.’

Lynx tensed, old instincts rising to the fore and demanding he stick a knife in Teshen’s guts.
I wouldn’t have him pegged for some thieving bully, out to prove his dominance.
He paused.
So maybe he isn’t, maybe he’s just got a point and this is the price of stepping out of line.

‘Maybe so,’ he admitted. ‘Reckon I can guess what his purse’ll look like. Reckon I’ll have no complaints if half of that comes my way plus a share of cartridges.’ He glanced at Teshen’s hand and the man, with a half-nod, took the point and removed it from Lynx’s shoulder. ‘I’ll get the horses going.’

He pulled a dagger and went to cut the knotted cord binding Sitain’s hands to her saddle. She gasped as they were freed, wincing and rubbing at her wrists until Lynx offered her a hand to dismount.

‘I can manage.’

Lynx shrugged. ‘Go on then.’

Sitain fumbled at the horn of the saddle with fingers that refused to grip and she had to resort to slumping forward and hooking her wrist around the front. She gingerly eased one foot up until she could slide her body off without falling, but as her feet touched the ground her knees buckled underneath her. Lynx grabbed her waist just before she fell, ignoring the angry hiss he received.

‘Enough now,’ he said firmly, ‘you did well just getting off by yourself. You made your point.’

As gently as he could he eased her down to the ground and then stepped back. Lynx looked her up and down as Sitain pulled the scarf from her head to reveal a mass of brown curls that certainly didn’t come from So Han. Most likely she was some local farmer’s daughter; she was dressed in hard-wearing homespun, while her hands and face were well tanned.

‘I’m Lynx,’ he said eventually.

‘Lynx?’

‘Long story.’ He paused. ‘Well, short story actually. Not very interesting either, but Lynx is who I am.’

She eyed him suspiciously. ‘Deserter?’

Lynx shook his head. ‘All years in the past anyhow, so let’s move on. You’re Sitain. Got a family name?’

‘Yes.’

He gave her a moment to expand on that but Sitain just pursed her lips and looked at the ground. ‘Want me to move on?’

‘Maybe it’s best I get a new name too,’ she said hesitantly. ‘Not like I can go home now. Someone in the village told the Charnelers about me and my family didn’t put up much of an argument.’

‘Your ma from So Han, da’s a local?’

She nodded. ‘How’d you know?’

‘Was the best guess. More likely it’d be a woman who’d want to move far away from that place.’

She nodded and scowled down at her hands. ‘What now?’

He cocked his head at her, trying to work out the look on her face, which seemed to combine more emotions than Lynx could manage over the course of a whole day. ‘Now? First of all I get these horses heading off down the road.’ He reached up and pulled the saddlebag off the one she’d been riding. ‘Anything in this yours?’

‘No, it’s just food and pans.’

‘Right. I’ll fetch the rest, you clear out anything useful or edible and toss the rest like you were robbing ’em. We’ll put valuables we can’t safely keep in a bag and toss it somewhere.’ He glanced back at Teshen, who was already engaged in a brisk, practised search of the commander’s body. ‘Can you walk?’

Sitain frowned down at her feet. ‘I don’t know.’

‘I’ll get you in the caravan, then. Your horse’ll get tied up with the rest, but let’s put you out of sight just in case, eh? Don’t go through anyone’s stuff when you’re there or they’ll cut your throat, understand?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good. We can talk later, work out where you want to go once you’re free of the Charnelers.’

‘Just like that?’

‘Aye, just like that. Unless you got any other plans?’

She shook her head. ‘No, it’s just you’re, well …’

‘A mercenary?’

Another shake.

Lynx felt a slight chill like a cloud covering the sun. ‘Ah, a man from So Han. That I am, but you heard the good commander. That shit’s been outlawed a long while now and I ain’t a fan of bringing up the past.’

He turned away, suddenly keen to be away from people for a minute or two. ‘Rest now. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.’

Long-tailed swallows knifed through the evening air, slashes of white against the deep blue sky. The dull arc of the Skyriver loomed across a sky unencumbered by cloud, a pale grey sweep as the last golden light of evening filtered through the trees surrounding the mercenary camp.

Sitain deposited her armful of wood and paused to watch the bustle of figures around her. They were efficient, she had to give the mercenaries that. Under a veneer of squabbling, outright abuse and chaotic milling, the camp was taking shape with surprising speed. Tents popped up, fires lit with pots of food hung over them and watches had been set all within minutes of Commander Anatin calling a halt.

She stretched her back, glad to be out of the wagon and on her own two feet again. Inaction didn’t suit her, she was used to working and had been first to set out in search of firewood – anything to be moving, anything for purpose after a long day alone with her thoughts.

A black woman with red-tinted eyes walked over to her, tugging her hair loose while she inspected Sitain. Even in battered mercenary garb she was beautiful, lithe and light in her movements in a way Sitain didn’t expect from a woman more than ten years her senior. In her village, a few years of marriage left most women solid and careworn, fatigue sapping what sparkle they had in their eyes.

The woman’s riding leathers were plain and battered, but the clothes underneath showed signs of an eye for style. Yellow thread had been used to stitch her trousers, the dark outline of fishes had been embroidered into her close-fitted jacket and a wine-red neckerchief was coiled around her neck. The badge on her chest was rather less elegant – the Madman of Stars, a white, tear-streaked face howling up at the night sky.

‘Got any kit?’ she said as she reached Sitain.

‘Kit?’

The woman shrugged. ‘Clothes, whatever.’

‘Oh. Yes, they let me pack a bag before they put me on the horse.’

‘Fetch it.’

‘Why?’

An amused smile appeared on the woman’s face. ‘You’ll share my tent. Unless you’d prefer to be in with Lynx, that is. I’m Kas, by the way. Don’t let the badge fool you, I’m the sanest of the lot here.’

Sitain’s stomach tightened at the thought of sharing a tent and her mouth went dry. Feeling like an awkward little girl she nodded, eyes downcast, but before her humiliation could be compounded further a greying man scampered up. Darker than Kas and another couple of decades older, his face was twisted in some sort of childish awe as he ran up and grasped her hand. Like Kas he wore battered clothes picked out with small flashes of colour; green braiding edged his jacket and every brass button was polished bright.

‘Is it true?’ he gasped, as though unable to believe what he was talking about.

‘Is what true?’ she demanded as she tried and failed to haul her hand back.

‘Himbel, leave the poor girl alone.’ Kas laughed.

‘Absolutely not, Kas, this is too important!’ he insisted. ‘She holds the key to my future well-being!’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’ Sitain demanded, having to brace herself on the man’s shoulder to yank her hand free. ‘What’s going on?’

‘They say you’re a night mage,’ Himbel continued. ‘So your magic can quieten; bring on sleep and the like.’

Sitain took a wary step back, a familiar sensation crawling on her skin as it always did when her magic was being discussed.

‘What of it?’

It wasn’t illegal or heretical to possess such abilities, but most magic was dangerous and unpopular, so she wasn’t happy to talk about it so openly with anyone, let alone strangers.

Before the man could reply Kas burst out laughing, drawing more attention to them. ‘Ulfer’s horn, Himbel! Of all the dumbshit uses for magic, that’s just …’ She briefly doubled over in more laughter.

‘It’s the best argument for magic I ever heard,’ he snapped, not taking his eyes off Sitain. ‘Is it true?’

‘I, ah – yes,’ she said, eyes downcast, ‘I suppose so.’

‘You suppose? Can you or can’t you? This is important, girl! Can you put someone to sleep?’

‘It really ain’t important,’ Kas gasped beside him, ‘but it’ll make you loved by half the company if you can.’

Feeling like she was having a trick played on her, Sitain looked around at staring faces. She saw only confusion on all of them, however, not amusement at her discomfort. As she looked, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks, the round-bellied lump called Lynx pushed his way between two of the onlookers, heading to join them. Unlike most of the mercenaries the man wore no trace of colour whatsoever; only the flecks of yellow in his eyes punctured the dull brown of leather and the shades of grey clothing. Even the ridiculous, obtrusive tattoo on his cheek was composed just of black lines.

‘I can,’ she said eventually. ‘I ain’t skilled with it, but I can do some things. Maybe calm a mood or put someone to sleep if I really have to.’

She didn’t manage any more as the black man grabbed her in a bearhug and almost swung her around in his delight. ‘Salvation!’ he crowed into her curls. ‘A gift from the gods!’ When she finally pushed herself free he calmed a little and took her by the shoulders to look her straight in the eye. ‘We’re going to be best of friends, you and I,’ he assured her. ‘Anything you need, just say and it’ll be yours.’

‘Why?’

He beamed. ‘Because if you can shut that scrawny gobshite up with your magic, you’re worth your weight in gold.’

‘What’s going on?’ Lynx demanded, eyes narrow and suspicious.

‘Himbel’s found a way to shut Deern up whenever he wants,’ Kas snorted, wiping tears of amusement from her eyes. ‘I think he’s in love.’

‘Leave the poor girl alone,’ Lynx said. Himbel gave Sitain one last hug then allowed Kas to drag him away, leaving the big man to stand frowning at her while Sitain tried to make sense of what had happened.

‘Who’s Deern?’ she asked eventually.

‘Eh? Oh, one o’ the company jesters,’ Lynx replied cryptically. ‘Don’t worry about him. You’ll want to shut him up from what I’ve seen, but his friend Reft is the biggest thing I ever met on two legs so you might want to be a little cautious about it.’

‘Are all your company mad?’

That made the frown turn into a half-smile. ‘Aye, mebbe. They ain’t my company, though. I just joined for this one job, but most of ’em look crazy from what I’ve seen.’

‘You’re not really part of the company?’

Lynx shrugged and pointed to the breast of his jacket. ‘Only just signed on for this job. No badge, see? I’m getting paid like I’m wearing the Stranger of Tempest, but I doubt I’ll stick around long enough to actually sew one onto my jacket.’

She looked around at the other mercenaries. All those who hadn’t removed their jackets did indeed have playing card badges sewn on. She’d noticed some wearing them but hadn’t realised it was the official mark of the company.

‘So you picked a fight with the bloody Knights-Charnel on behalf of a company you’re not really a member of?’

‘That’s about the size of it. I’m starting to think maybe Anatin’s not so happy about that.’

‘Why did you, then?’

He gave her a puzzled look. ‘You wanted to be their prisoner the rest of your life?’

‘Of course not! But still, I didn’t really expect you to step in. Most people we passed on the road wouldn’t even look at me.’

‘Seemed the right thing to do,’ he said with a shrug. ‘Next time I won’t bother.’

Sitain paused and mentally backtracked. The man
had
put his life on the line for her, a stranger and a woman to boot. He might be a long way from home, but her mother had told her a few stories of the arrogant, warlike men of So Han and Lynx fitted that picture, at least until he spoke. It had been a desperate gamble to ask for his help, but Sitain knew no one round these parts argued with the Knights-Charnel. While the little she’d heard of So Han wasn’t good, it was at least clear their views on both mages and women differed greatly to those prevalent in these parts. Whatever his reasons for doing it, she reminded herself, asking why wasn’t the best form of gratitude.

‘Thank you,’ she said awkwardly.

‘Eh?’

‘I didn’t say it before,’ she explained, ‘what with the killing and looting of bodies, but thank you. You saved me. Once they’d got me to whichever sanctuary they were taking me to, I’d never have left. You risked your life for me.’

He turned away. ‘Aye, well, like I said. Seemed the right thing to do. Best you go and get some food now, we’re on first watch.’

‘We?’ she asked, startled. ‘You want me to stand guard?’

‘Aye – well, I’m going to,’ he added with a smile that crinkled his tattoo, ‘and you’re under my care so you are too. Suspect we’re together on Anatin’s shit-list, so get used to first watch. You’re likely to see a few of them.’