The Assassin's Edge (Einarinn 5) (57 page)

“Where am I?” The cry froze the blood in my veins and the enchanter’s incantation died on a strangled gasp.

“What do you want?” This second voice was lower and resonant with the rhythms of the Sheltya that Sorgrad had mimicked.

“Where am I?” repeated the first frightened voice and, gathering my wits, I realised it spoke old Tormalin, the tongue of the original settlers. It was a solid gold certainty that these Elietimm in the charnel chamber had no notion what it was saying.

“Is that you?” It was another lost Tormalin voice and I felt Ryshad go rigid beside me. This was a bad enough place for him to find himself in without people from the shades that had so nearly claimed him joining us.

“What do you want with us?” That was the Elietimm bones again, this time several voices resonating through the stone. I screwed my eyes shut but it was no good. I couldn’t close my mind’s eye on a vision of dry skulls talking, jawbones flapping like some ghastly marionette.

“Where are the people we seek?” That was the enchanter leading our pursuers, his voice was strained with what I sincerely hoped was panic at what he’d started with his incautious Artifice. Gripping Ryshad’s hand, I wished fervently for a chance to strangle the bastard with his own gorget.

“Lost, so long lost.” The ancient Elietimm sighed, more voices joining in their lament and sinking the words beneath meaningless ululation.

“I cannot see!” A Tormalin wail rose above the murmur, prompting another despairing cry. “Are we dead?”

“The darkness, oh, the darkness. I cannot bear it!”

That voice was in the hollow with us. I swear my heart missed a beat and the hairs on my neck bristled like a startled cat. By the greatest good fortune or Misaen’s blessing, all five of us jerked so hard in our instinctive desire to flee, we effectively stopped each other from moving at all. Then fear of discovery overrode fear of the disembodied voice and we all froze, still as hiding hares again. Blood pounded in my chest so hard I was surprised not to hear the sound echo back from the stones. The artefacts hidden in my jerkin weighed down on my hollow stomach like lead and a bruise where someone had kicked my leg throbbed.

“The darkness is peace.” The Elietimm bones outside offered rebuke not comfort.

“The darkness is ours.”

“The darkness is knowledge.”

“The darkness is ours to hold and defend.” The menace grew as the voices came thick and fast. The only good thing to be said about that was the noise drowned out the incoherent voice trapped with us.

“Who challenges us?” The dusty rasp had a ring of ritual, something to be said before formal battle or a duel to the death.

“You are demons!”

“We are forsaken.”

“We are lost!”

“Is there no light? Where is the light?”

The Tormalin frenzy nearly, but not entirely, drowned out the sound of boots hammering on the stone steps as the Elietimm who’d pursued us into the chamber broke and fled. If I hadn’t had someone pinning my legs and Ryshad between me and the way out, I’d have followed them and be cursed to the consequences.

The Elietimm voices were shouting now, Tormalin shrieks cutting through the clamour.

“Sorgrad!” I hissed into the darkness. “You said there was another way out.”

“I said there might be,” he retorted. “If there is, I can’t find it.”

“Use some magelight and look harder,” I told him forcefully.

“I’m not going out through that lot,” ’Gren said with complete certainty.

“I’m not raising any elemental magic until I know how they’re going to feel about it,” stated Sorgrad tightly. “Sheltya ban anyone mageborn from even approaching a tyakar and I’ll bet they’ve good reason.”

“Can shades actually harm the living?” Shiv managed a wizardly tone of detached enquiry for the first half of his question then his voice cracked with concern.

“I’ve no intention of finding out.” Ryshad’s voice was harsh and I caught the scent of fresh sweat. Then I realised my own forehead and breast were damp with cold apprehension.

“Isn’t there any Artifice you can use, Livak?” Sorgrad asked with commendable calmness.

“How am I supposed to read it in the dark?” Besides, the parchment in my pocket might as well have been blank, for all I could remember of what was written on it. The chaotic sounds outside rose to a higher pitch and the voice in with us started a low keening like an injured cat.

I hadn’t been so terrified since I was a child. This was worse than waking to the impenetrable cold of a winter’s night with the candle stub guttered and me scared of the dark but more scared of what might be waiting if I got out of my truckle bed or what might be roused if I called out for someone. At least back then, my mother always had an ear for me stirring and would appear with a fresh light, putting the shadows to flight with no-nonsense reassurance mixed with rebuke. My father, on those rare occasions he stayed with us on his travels, would use a song, turning the darkness into a comforting blanket wrapping me round. That song was a Forest song, no jalquezan that I could recall but anything was worth a try.

“Let’s run quickly, quickly, quickly, let’s run quickly,

little lass,

Let’s run quickly, quickly, quickly, let’s run quickly,

little lass,”

Breath all ragged, I missed more notes than I hit in the old lullaby but I persevered doggedly.

“For the trees still cluster thickly and the shades of night

are gathering,

Let’s run quickly, quickly, quickly, let’s run quickly,

little lass.”

Shiv’s tuneless voice told me the song had a place in the remote Kevil fens. He matched me in slowing the pace of the jaunty tune to match the words.

“Not so fast now, fast now, fast now, not so fast now,

little lad,

Not so fast now, fast now, fast now, not so fast now,

little lad,

See the moons and stars above us and the shades of

night are stilling,

Not so fast now, fast now, fast now, not so fast now,

little lad.”

Ryshad’s murmured version had a few different words and turns to the tune but the gist was the same and I fervently hoped that was all that mattered.

<>Walk more slowly, slowly, slowly, walk more slowly, oh

my love,

Walk more slowly, slowly, slowly, walk more slowly, oh

my love,

See the lantern in the window as the shades of night are

settling,

Walk more slowly, slowly, slowly, walking slowly, oh my

love.”

I left the story to the others and concentrated on the soft harmony my father added as soon as I was old enough to carry the tune myself, just in case that’s where the Artifice lay. The brothers lent their voices; ’Gren picks up a tune as easily as he pockets anything else.

“Now we’re resting, resting, resting, now we’re resting

safe at home,

Now we’re resting, resting, resting, now we’re resting safe

at home,

Work is done, the day is over and the shades of night

are sleeping,

Now we’re resting, resting, resting, now we’re resting all

at peace.”

We finished more or less together and sat in the blackness. The voices beyond the slab were silent. That much I’d hoped for. What I didn’t expect to hear was snoring.

“If that’s Artifice, it’s worked on Shiv,” said ’Gren with barely repressed hilarity.

I fought a laugh of my own; I could all too easily give way to inappropriate hysteria.

Ryshad hissed beside me. “I’ve got cramp.”

“Let’s get out of here,” suggested Sorgrad. “Anyone after us must be long gone.”

“It’s the longest gone that concern me most.” But I was eager enough to untangle myself and scramble out of the confined space once Ryshad had half crawled, half fallen out.

“Dast’s teeth!” He stumbled over something that clattered in the darkness.

My heart leapt until I realised it wasn’t the hollow ring of bone but the solid clunk of wood. Steel on flint raised sparks that stabbed at my eyes. I rubbed them and then Ryshad had the torch he’d found lit, soft flames warm and reassuring.

“Do you suppose they’re keeping watch?”

’Gren moved to the black entrance of the stairway, weapon in hand.

“I would be,” said Ryshad curtly.

“I say we stay put.” Sorgrad was still by the hole we’d hidden in, using his cloak to pillow Shiv’s head. The wizard was sleeping as soundly as if he were in the finest inn in Toremal. “We all need some rest and we’re probably safer here than anywhere else in these islands.”

I wished I shared his unconcern. “Unless the real Eldritch Kin turn up to hold us to account.” That wasn’t a joke.

Sorgrad turned to survey the niches with their stacked bones and watchful skulls. “We should be safe enough, as long as no one uses any kind of magic”

Ryshad handed me the torch as he bent to dig fingers into his calf and ease his foot up and down. “That’s a curse. We have to get word to Temar and Halice as soon as possible.” His voice strengthened with determination to think about anything but the unnerving experience we’d just shared.

“Tomorrow’s soon enough.” ’Gren was pillowing his head on his pack as he lay himself down at the base of the stair. Anyone coming down there would tread on him and that would be the last mistake they made.

“You’ll have to wait for Shiv to wake up anyway.” Sorgrad got back into the hollow next to the wizard and settled himself down.

I sat down, concentrating on the torch flame so I wouldn’t have to look at the dry bones on all sides. Ordinarily, I’d have my back to a wall if one offered itself but here that meant having bits of ancient skeletons behind me. That notion made my skin crawl. But I soon shuffled round, frowning. There was no way I could sit without some bone-filled void at my back.

“Lean on me.” Ryshad sat back to back with me. We rested on each other, knees drawn up.

“What’s a tyakar cave, Sorgrad?” I asked suddenly.

“Where we keep our ancestors’ bones in the mountains,” he said sleepily. “Where Sheltya seek guidance at Solstice.” Grim satisfaction coloured his words. “What all the lowlanders dismiss as superstitious nonsense. Our charlatan priests bamboozling us ignorant fools with their lies and self-serving deceptions.”

Ryshad cleared his throat. “It’s truly necromancy?”

“You’d have to ask Sheltya about that,” yawned Sorgrad. “If you dare.”

Whoever might go asking, it wouldn’t be me. The trivial charms of the Forest or the earnest enchantments to cure and protect that Guinalle excelled in were as much Artifice as I wanted. I’d found the ill-defined powers of the Sheltya unnerving enough without knowing they went around stirring up the shades of the dead. That was all too reminiscent of the darker practices of the Elietimm. I’d been right to mistrust magic for so many years, I decided. In all its forms.

Silence hung around us. I was pretty certain Sorgrad and ’Gren were asleep.

“You sleep, if you can,” Ryshad invited. “I’ll look after the torch.”

I settled myself against his broad and reassuring back. “I couldn’t sleep in here if I’d earn a lifetime’s gold by it.”

“Me neither,” he admitted.

“I daren’t even suggest a game of runes,” I said with a reasonable attempt at a laugh. “Not seeing the Forest Folk use them for fortune telling.”

“Let’s not do anything that might stir up the aether.” I heard a faint grin in his voice.

We sat silent for a while longer.

“So what are we going to do when we get home?” Ryshad asked suddenly. “The garden will want clearing for a start.”

“Good thing I never got round to planting anything.” I leaned my head back to rub it affectionately against his shoulder. “Did I tell you I was thinking of going into wine trading?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Ryshad reached his hand round, and I laid mine on his upturned palm. He curled his fingers around mine and I did the same. “You’ll need some storage, proper cellarage ideally.”

“I reckon Temar owes me the land to build a warehouse by now.” I feigned concern. “Have you any notion where I might get the bricks to build that?”

“I think I might know someone who could help out.” I heard the laughter in Ryshad’s voice and smiled. “There are so many wines to choose from,” he continued thoughtfully. “You should visit the vineyards, see how they store their vintages.”

“And sample them,” I pointed out.

Ryshad squeezed my hand. “We’ll sail for Tormalin as soon as we’ve settled all this, shall we? Spend Aft-Summer and both halves of autumn putting together a cargo?”

“That’s an excellent notion,” I approved. “Where shall we start?”

Suthyfer, Inner Strait,

10th of For-Summer

Temar stood on the aftdeck and gazed at Allin as she concentrated on filling the sails of the ever-hastening
Dulse
. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the rail.

Halice climbed up from the main deck. “She may not have Larissa’s affinity but she’s doing a good job.” She handed Temar his sword. “You could shave with that if you’ve a mind to go into battle with a clean chin.”

“I’ll wait till we’re done and bathe then.” Temar continued to watch Allin whose concentration hadn’t wavered in the slightest. He could still feel her lips on his.

Halice was looking at the billowing canvas. “ ’Sar said something about air and fire being paired in some way.” She turned to check on the
Fire Minnow
cutting a swathe of white foam through the water beside the
Dulse
. Her sails didn’t have the constant curve of the
Dulse
’s but she was parting the waves like a sword slicing through silk. Temar followed Halice’s gaze to Usara right in the prow of the ship, one hand on the bowsprit as he craned to see the sea beneath.