The Book of Fire (59 page)

“The hell-priest,” supplied N’Doch.

“Ah. You’ve heard the story.”

“Not like you tell it.”

“From the wrong side, you mean.”

N’Doch returned the most neutral of shrugs.

Köthen tossed his head. “The hell-priest. The central misjudgment in a series of otherwise reasonable decisions. I thought he could . . . well, no matter. He didn’t, would never have. When I was introduced to Heinrich’s dragon . . . your pardon, my lady . . . to the dragon Earth in Rose’s barn, I thought, no, this is not my understanding of dragon. I have met that already, in the eyes of a mad priest who wields his holy cross as a battle ax!”

“I pray you, speak of him no further!” Erde had that sense again that the priest was watching her, even through the veil of the centuries.

“Only to the end of the tale, my lady. And so we made that devil’s bargain, Josef and I, and to seal it, we were preparing that day to . . .” Köthen’s hands floated free a moment as if unmoored, then sank to his sides. He turned to her and spread them again. “Rose understood the need, you must know.”

“No! Rose would never have forgiven you!”

“I did not say she would forgive me, nor would I have asked. I said she understood.”

“Understood what?” asked N’Doch.

“The need to burn an innocent woman at the stake.”

“Unhh. Not good.”

“No, nor am I. I promise you honor always, justice when I have the power to, and truth where I have knowledge of it. Goodness I lay no claim to.”

“Hey, man. I hear you.”

And then they both nodded, satisfied, when Erde thought they should be ashamed of themselves.

“Besides, she wasn’t innocent. She was, is, and will be, a witch. Like all those women Heinrich’s got hidden away.”

“It’s no excuse!” Erde blurted.

“No, it isn’t,” Köthen agreed quietly. “And in the end, we didn’t burn her, for milady came to the rescue, with
dragons and King’s Knights and mysterious champions, and a lot of other things uncounted on. And perhaps my soul was saved. But that was just a stroke of great good luck, for all too often, what is necessary is not what we’d prefer.”

“It wasn’t luck, my lord. It was destiny.”

“Destiny, is it? Again and always?” His eyes, when he finally fixed them on her, were dark and tired. Perhaps he’d put some memories to rest over the past week, and thanked her little for reviving them. “May I offer you a bit of advice, my lady, for the purposes of accomplishing your, ah . . . Quest?”

“Of course, my lord baron.”

“Stop blinding yourself with concern for what isn’t or what should be, or even what you’d like it to be. Concentrate on what
is.
”

“Good idea,” muttered N’Doch.

“Erfurt and all that is past, and we’ve a job to do in the present. Which is actually the future.” Köthen ran a hand through his newly-cropped hair and massaged the back of his neck. “Shall we move on? I feel as though I’ve spent the afternoon in the confessional!”

He does not believe, Erde realized with a shock, that he will ever see home again.

Köthen clapped a hand to N’Doch’s shoulder, turning him, urging him into motion. “Now, tell me, lad. How good are you with that knife of yours?”

The two men moved on through the crowd side by side, instinctively dividing the surveillance between them, left and right, for comparison back at camp. Erde padded after them like their servant or a dog, her fist tight on the hilt of her dagger, hoping to go unnoticed. They stopped at the far end of the square to watch the assembly of the seating, battered lengths of wood and metal that fitted together to form tiers. N’Doch was attempting to explain what a “rock concert” was, when Köthen caught his elbow.

“Dochmann! Over my left shoulder!”

“Looking . . .”

“It’s the young woman from the other night. The speaker at the fire.”

“Miriam, her name was.”

“But we’re two days’ hard travel from that village!” Erde protested.

“Yup, I see her. Damn! It’s her all right!”

“Stay with milady. I’m going after her.”

N’Doch snatched him back. “No. Not this time. This is what I’m good at. I was brought up in towns like this. Catch you back at camp.”

Before Köthen could stop him, he had eased off through the crowd and melted into it.

Much later, he sprinted out of the darkness to throw himself down breathless at Luther’s cook fire.

“Man, that last klick was a tough one!” He wiped his brow on his bare forearm. “These people got watch posted everywhere! There’s another Crew, y’know, pulled up down the road.”

Luther rose to go back to packing his wagon. “Das Scroon, li’ we spected. An’ Oolyoot’s camped off adda base a da hill.”

“So how’d you guys do?”

“Dey agreed. Two waggins frum each Crew. We’ll take mine ’n Ysa’s. Seems dey need da trade reel bad, too, nah.”

“Whew! Gonna be some day tomorrow. Say, I’m dyin’! What’s to eat?” N’Doch snatched Köthen’s empty plate and filled it from the stewpot. Erde got up to fetch him water from the keg.

“So?” asked the baron.

“The girl? It was her, all right. Real soon after, she hooked up with those two other guys, and they went around town the rest of the day taking people aside real casual-like. I saw a lot of people pretty heavily armed, even a few not too carefully concealed rifles and handguns.” He looked to Luther, who had lingered to listen. “That how it is in this town?”

“Dis town, alwiz. But Scroon Crew say dey see a lot moah guns aroun’ da villages nah. An’ da priests bin ev’reweah, scroungin’.”

“The girl, and her companions?” Köthen pursued patiently.

“Oh, yeah. Well, I did fine, till I lost all three of them in an alley. The doors were locked up tight when I tried ’em, but I know they got in one somehow. Maybe they live here, maybe they got connections.”

“Hmmm,” muttered Köthen. “The scent of rebellion.”

N’Doch scoffed. “You’ve got rebellion on the brain, yer lordship. Whachu say, Luther? You know anything about this?”

“Can’t really say, Dockman,” the Tinker rumbled, moving off.

But Erde noticed how hard he’d been listening. “She said as much, Miriam did. ‘I stand in opposition,’ she said. But she meant to this pagan church, not to any lord of the realm.”

“The Temple is the lord around here.” N’Doch scraped at the remains of his first helping and reached for a second. “Look who we had to go to, to do business. Haven’t heard mention of any other form of government.”

“A bad idea,” said Köthen. “To let the church run things.”

“Well, we’ll get a chance to see it in action. Guess what else I found out.”

“We know! Luther heard it from the woman at the Chapter House. The High Priestess of the dragon worshipers arrives tomorrow with all her retinue.”

“Betcha! Major celebration! Folks coming in from all over, not just the Crews. The town’s gonna be a madhouse. And with everyone armed to the teeth . . . whew!”

“I hope it won’t ruin another trade day.”

“I have a feeling,” said Köthen with such quiet relish that they both looked at him. “We should be prepared for the worst.”

T
he village they stop at the next night is nearly empty, though the streets are clean and the houses scrubbed and patched. The only sign of life is at the Chapter House, where the caravan is welcomed without the usual heavy ceremony by a few overworked and anxious priestesses.

Paia is relieved but curious. “Where have they all gone?”

“Probably down to Phoenix to await your arrival tomorrow,” says Luco. “They’ve planned a huge celebration there in your honor.”

She feels so tired today, so strung out. Another night of dreaming. No God to rave at her this time, but the man with the sword was there again, smiling. Paia hasn’t had much sleep.

“I can’t wait.”

Luco laughs. “Come, walk with me, take a look, before it gets dark.”

They climb to the brow of the hill overlooking the village to gaze down on their most important destination. The town is many miles away to the southeast, but even from a distance, Paia can see its lights glimmering through the lavender dusk.

“It’s big.”

“The God’s favorite town.”

“Really?”

“Where all do his bidding, all live to serve him, and prosperity follows.”

“Sarcasm is the God’s prerogative, First Son.”

“No, I . . . actually, it’s true. He’s exactly the God they desire. Phoenix is the God’s greatest success story.”

“Then yours as well, as the God’s Right Hand.”

Luco shakes out his long hair to let the sweat dry in the breeze. “I’ll leave that credit to him.” Paia glances up at him, but he is turning away. “Better be heading back. We don’t want to miss whatever they’ve managed to scrape together for dinner.”

She reaches suddenly for his sleeve, grabs at the long red folds of his robe. “Luco!”

He stops, turns back. When he sees her face, his blue eyes narrow. “What is it, my priestess?”

Paia isn’t sure herself. Something. A feeling. “I . . . don’t know.”

“You look . . . terrified. There’s no need, you know. Phoenix is devoted to the God. It will welcome you with open arms. Besides, you’re as well guarded as anyone could be.”

“What if it’s something you can’t guard against?” She glances again at the tightly walled town in the valley below. A moment ago, she was sure she saw it wreathed with flame. “That place scares me. Do we have to go in there tomorrow?”

He drops all pretense of formality. “Paia, Paia, what’s this? A premonition? Do you believe in such things?”

She doesn’t know whether to say yes or no.

“Look, I know this trip has been hard on you, harder than you’re willing to admit. But it has served its purpose, and tomorrow’s visit is the most crucial of all. That town supplies a quarter of the Temple income. If you just hang in there for one more night, I’ll give you a rest. I promise.” He holds out his hand to her. “Now will you come down to dinner?”

Paia throws one last shuddering look over her shoulder, then takes Luco’s hand and follows him down the dusty hill like a child.

T
he camp is up before first light, grabbing breakfast, rounding up the mules, hitching the four needed to haul the two wagons, and keeping the others close at hand in case of an emergency.

N’Doch stands with Sedou on a rise in the road into town. The sky is a gray dome above. The valley vanishes away from them into predawn darkness. The wagon circles of the two other Crews are just visible up ahead, one to either side of the road. They, too, will send in a pair of wagons each, coasting in on Blind Rachel’s negotiations.

Sedou is more like the dragon than ever this morning. Or, if N’Doch allows himself to remember, more like Sedou before a big rally, particularly once he understood he was a marked man. He’s edgy, distracted. He reminds N’Doch twice what to do if Fire shows himself. N’Doch can see the dragon’s mind is elsewhere. His own stomach’s as uneasy as an ant nest. He wishes he could help but hasn’t a clue what would be helpful, or even how to ask.

Köthen walks out to join them when the light turns rosy. “Stoksie is ready to give the signal.”