The Nomad (19 page)

What then, was the precise nature of the sword’s enchantment? Both times he had seen Sorak use it, the weapons of his antagonists had shattered against its blade. For obsidian weapons to break on iron or steel was not uncommon, but for them to shatter as they had was very unusual, indeed. So perhaps that was its special property. No ordinary weapon could stand up against it. That meant he would not be able to fight Sorak the same way he fought other men. When the time came, he would either have to make certain that Sorak did not have the sword, or that his own weapon did not come in contact with it.

Then there were those expressions of terror on the faces of those men that he had slain. What could account for that? Marauders were not men easily frightened, much less terrified. Veela had told him that the elfling was a master of the Way. If so, then it was possible that he had the ability to psionically project terror at his antagonists. Coupled with the enchantment of the elven blade, that would make him not merely a formidable opponent, but an indomitable one. Yet, he had to have a weakness, all men did. Obviously, there was the priestess, but aside from her, there had to be something inherent in the elfling himself that would make him vulnerable. Until he found out what that was, he would have to play the game very cautiously.

As for the priestess… Valsavis had never seen a woman fight like that before. And he had seen women fight. He was well aware that villichi priestesses were trained in combat, but they usually preferred to use psionics to disarm their enemies or otherwise subdue them. Ryana had waded into the fight without even using her psionic ability, as if she had relished the prospect of taking the marauders on blade to blade. And the way she had dispatched them was magnificent. He could not have done better himself. This was a woman well worthy of respect, he thought. Beautiful, intelligent, and deadly. He found it an exciting combination.

“You fight well,” he told her. “Yes,” she replied. “I do.” Valsavis grinned. “We make a good team,” he said. She glanced at him sharply, and he quickly added, “The three of us, I mean. If this is any indication of how things will go in Bodach, we should all be rich before long.”

“You will find it is far easier to kill the living than the undead,” she replied flatly.

He gazed at her with interest. “You sound as if you speak from experience,” he said. “Have you ever fought undead before?” she asked. “No,” Valsavis said. “I have fought men, elves, giants, dwarves, even halflings and thri-kreen, but never yet undead. I imagine it should prove an interesting experience. I am looking forward to it.”

“I am not,” Ryana said. “It is not an experience most sane people would be eager to repeat.”

“And yet you travel with Sorak to Bodach,” said Valsavis, glancing at the elfling, who walked slightly ahead of them. “I find that curious. I had always thought villichi priestesses and druids lived a life of austere simplicity, dedicated to the spiritual path. Seeking treasure seems somewhat out of character.”

“Everyone chooses his own path,” Ryana replied. “As you have chosen yours.”

“And what of Sorak? Is this path of your choosing, or his?”

“What difference would that make to you?” she countered.

“I was merely interested.”

“I see,” she replied. “Is it the treasure of Bodach that interests you, or me?”

“And just supposing I said it was both?” Valsavis asked.

“Then I would reply that you could only hope to gain one,” she said, and quickened her pace to catch up with Sorak.

“Perhaps,” Valsavis said softly to himself. “And then again, perhaps not.”

It was late when they arrived back at their rooms at the Oasis. Ryana removed her sword belt and flopped down wearily on her bed. Sorak stood by the window, looking out at the night thoughtfully.

“Valsavis is going to be a problem,” Ryana said, as if reading his thoughts.

“Yes, I know,” Sorak replied, still gazing out the window.

“He wants me,” said Ryana dryly. “I know that, too.” His response was flat and unemotional, merely a simple acknowledgment of her statement.

She glanced at him, puzzled. “And how does that make you feel?” she asked, carefully keeping her voice neutral. She did not want anything in her tone to dictate the nature of his response.

He turned to look at her. “Do you want to hear me say that I am jealous?” he asked.

“I want to hear you say how it makes you feel,” she replied.

“It makes me feel cautiously optimistic.” She stared at him with open-mouthed astonishment, unable to believe what she’d heard. Of all the responses he might have given, that was the last one she could ever have expected.

“What?”

“I am still not completely certain,” Sorak replied, turning back to stare contemplatively out the window, “but I am growing more and more convinced that Valsavis is an agent of the Shadow King. And if so, then his attraction to you could serve as a distraction from his true purpose. That would be very useful for us.”

“Is that all I mean to you?” Ryana asked with a stricken expression. “I am merely of value as a
distraction
and nothing more?”

He turned back to face her. “Forgive me,” he said, contritely. “I did not mean it that way at all.” He exhaled heavily. “You know very well how I feel about you, and you know how much you mean to me. But I have no reason to feel jealous of Valsavis. I know what sort of man he is, and I know you, Ryana. Regardless of your feelings toward me, I know that you could never feel anything for such a man.”

“He may not care about how I feel,” she replied, wryly. “In fact, I doubt it would make much difference to him at all.”

“Perhaps not,” Sorak said. “A man such as Valsavis usually takes what he wants with no thought for the desires of others. But you are far from a helpless female, and even given that, I have no intention of leaving you unprotected. I think we have both learned our lessons in that regard, thanks to the marauders. But I suspect that Valsavis has never met anyone like you before.” He smiled. “If, in fact, there
is
anyone else like you. Valsavis is a man who thinks very highly of himself. He certainly does not think much, if at all, of others. I would guess that women have either given themselves to Valsavis easily and willingly in the past, or else he simply took them by force. Either one would represent to him merely the satisfaction of his animal desires. Neither would represent a challenge, and challenge, above all, is what truly drives Valsavis. I doubt he cares about much else.”

“So then I represent a challenge to him, is that it?” Ryana asked.

“I would certainly think so,” Sorak said. “You are beautiful, but Valsavis has doubtless had beautiful women before. You are also highly intelligent. Most intelligent women would know to stay well away from someone like Valsavis, but a few might easily have been tempted by what they perceived as his aura of danger and unpredictability. They, in their turn, might have regarded
him
as a challenge. And the results, of course, would have been predictable, whatever their expectations may have been. But you are also a fighter, perhaps the most skilled female fighter he has ever seen. Villichi priestesses are known for being expert in the arts of combat,
and
you were the best back at the convent.”

“Second best,” she corrected him. “I never could match you at swordplay.”

He shrugged. “Either way, you have mastered a skill to which Valsavis has devoted a lifetime of study. Whatever else he may be, he is first and foremost a warrior. And you are not only intelligent and beautiful but a warrior, as well, perhaps his equal in ability. I think that to a man such as Valsavis, that would represent an almost irresistible challenge. I suppose it’s possible he might try to take you by force, just to see if he could. But then, if he were successful, that would only lessen the thrill. How much more challenging to see if he could win you over, especially when he knows that you are already devoted to someone else.”

“Someone who is also a warrior, and the object of his mission,” said Ryana.

Sorak nodded. “Yes, if he is an agent of the Shadow King, as we suspect.”

“Either way, I do not like this at all,” she said. “We are facing enough danger as it is without having him around.”

And a voice within each of their minds suddenly spoke, saying,
“I agree.”

They stared at each other with surprise, and in the next moment, a small, desert dust devil came spinning into the room through the open window. Sorak moved back quickly, startled as it blew past him and alighted on the floor, a small, funnel-shaped whirlwind of dust and sand that, in the next instant, lengthened and expanded, transforming itself into Kara, the pyreen known as the Silent One.

“Forgive the intrusion,” she said, “but I had to speak with you in private. I do not trust this man, Valsavis. I was told to expect you two, but not him.”

“Then you have communicated with the Sage?” asked Sorak eagerly, recovering from his surprise at her sudden and dramatic appearance.

“Say rather that he has communicated with me,” Kara replied. “I promised him that I would help you, but I promised nothing about Valsavis. His thoughts are inaccessible to me, and I regard that as a warning. There is an aura of malevolence about him, and of duplicity. I do not want him with us. Therefore, we are leaving now, instead of tomorrow evening.”

“We do not trust Valsavis either,” Sorak told her. “We believe that he may be an agent of the Shadow King. Nevertheless, I thought that it would be easier to keep an eye on him if he were with us rather than trailing us. Valsavis is an expert tracker. He will doubtless follow us to Bodach. We cannot prevent him.”

“That is all the more reason to start now and place as much distance between us as possible,” Kara replied.

“I am in complete agreement with your assessment of him,” said Sorak, “but we should consider that his sword arm could come in useful in the city of the undead.”

“If it were not used against us,” the pyreen replied. “I might be willing to take that chance on my own behalf, but not where the Sage may be concerned. If Valsavis is an agent of the Shadow King, then surely he must have some means of reporting to him. The Breastplate of Argentum is a powerful talisman. The Shadow King would know that and would do anything to insure that the Sage did not acquire it.” She shook her head. “No, I shall not take the risk. We must leave at once without alerting Valsavis.”

“Then we are ready,” Sorak said, picking up his pack and shouldering it. Ryana buckled on her sword belt and shouldered her own pack. They headed, toward the door.

“No,” said Kara. “Not that way. If you are seen leaving, then someone could alert him.”

“Yes, you’re right, of course,” said Sorak. “I would not put it past him to have bribed someone to watch our comings and goings and report to him. We shall use the window, as you did, and sneak out over the garden wall. Where shall we meet you?”

“Outside the east gate of the village,” Kara replied. “Good,” said Sorak. “Our kanks are stabled there. We can pick them up and—”

“No,” said Kara, “leave them. Kanks would leave an easy trail to follow, especially for an expert tracker.”

“But if we go on foot, then he will catch us easily,” Ryana protested, not adding that she was not looking forward to crossing the southern half of the Ivory Plain and going all the way around the inland silt basins on foot.

“We are wasting precious time,” said Kara in a tone that brooked no disagreement. “Meet me outside the east gate as soon possible.”

And with that, she spun around once, twice, three times, and became a dust devil once again that whirled out through the window and over the garden wall.

“Perhaps she knows a short cut,” Sorak said.

“To Bodach?” said Ryana. She grimaced. “I have seen your map. It is an even longer journey there than it was to here from Nibenay.”

“Well, you will recall the map was not entirely accurate,” said Sorak, though he knew it was a rather lame response. “In any case, she is our guide, and we must place ourselves in her hands.”

He swung out through the window. Ryana followed, and they quickly crossed the garden, keeping well away from the main path by the entrance. They reached the wall, and Ryana made a saddle of her hands, giving Sorak a leg up. Once he reached the top of the wall, he held his hand down to her and helped her up. They dropped to the street and quickly lost themselves among the nighttime crowd.

It did not take them long to reach the east gate of the village. Ryana cast a longing glance at the stables as they passed them, thinking how much more comfortable it would have been to ride a kank than go again on foot across miles of hot salt. They had filled their waterskins at a public well on their way out of he village, but with a journey as long as they had ahead of them, Ryana knew that it would not be enough. Fortunately, however, they would be traveling with a pyreen this time. If anyone could find water in the dry wasteland between Salt View and Bodach, Kara could.

There was no sign of Kara at the gate, however. But then Sorak recalled that she had told them to meet her
outside
the village gate. They went through and stopped to look around, yet the pyreen was nowhere to be seen.

“Now what?” said Ryana, with a worried look. “She said that she would meet us here,” said Sorak. “So? Where is she?”

“She will be here,” Sorak replied confidently. “I certainly hope so,” said Ryana dubiously. “She is pyreen,” said Sorak with conviction. “She would never let down fellow preservers. Especially those who served the Sage. Perhaps we should continue on ahead for a short distance.”

“Only what if she comes after we’ve gone and waits for us by the gate?” Ryana asked.

“A shapeshifter will have no difficulty finding us,” said Sorak. “She will assume we must have gone on.”

“Very well, if you say so,” Ryana replied, but she had her doubts, and the prospect of the long journey ahead, on foot and without a guide, was not a pleasant one.

They started walking down the trail leading away from the village. After a few moments, they became aware of something moving off to their right. They heard the rapid pattering of small paws, and Sorak, with his superior night vision, could make out a creature running on all fours a short distance away, parallel to their course.