The Summoner (29 page)

Tris felt himself shaking, still staring at his hands. “I was thinking about my family,” he said softly,

“how they died. And the one who killed them… bringing him to justice.”

“Justice was not your thought,” Alyzza sniffed. “You were thinking of revenge. You want, more 239

than anything, to be the instrument of his death.”

“Yes,” Tris whispered, closing his eyes and bowing his head. “You’re right. Goddess help me, I do.”

“You must decide,” Alyzza said archly. “No good can come of vengeance. If that is what you seek, then the dark magic will consume you and you will work such evil that their deaths are trifling by comparison,” she said, her hands twitching within her robes. “But there is another way.”

“Tell me,” Tris begged, raising his head.

“Let go of your family,” Alyzza hissed. “Even you cannot bring them back.” She placed a hand across his shoulders, and her sleeve brushed his throat. “There is a greater evil at work in the Winter Kingdoms than their deaths. Fight against it. If you permit the darkness to fill you, you will be consumed.”

Carina watched wide‐eyed as Tris buried his face in his hands. “Goddess Bright,” he swore, his voice choked. “Help me,” he begged. “I want so badly to punish him… By the Virgin and Whore, if you could have seen how they died.” He dragged his sleeve across his eyes. “And now, Kait’s spirit…”

“Alyzza, is this necessary?” Carina began, but the crone waved her still.

“In all things there is a time to decide,” the witch rasped, her lips almost touching Tris’s ear. “All of your roads branch from this moment. Choose.”

“Sweet Mother and Childe, help me,” Tris gasped. “I cannot… will not… be like that.”

240

“Very good. You speak the truth,” Alyzza said, straightening, and as she removed her arm from across Tris’s shoulders, he could see the gleam of a knife blade in her palm.

“What?” Carina asked in shock as Tris’s eyes widened. “You had that at his throat,” the healer whispered.

Alyzza nodded soberly, sheathing the knife once more in the voluminous folds of her robe. “Aye.

And even the most powerful mage could not have stopped it from slitting him ear to ear.”

“Why?” Carina gasped.

“Because I could not let him live had he chosen darkness,” Alyzza replied matter‐of‐factly. “Now, let’s get on with our lessons,” she said, settling her robes around her.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Back Table of Contents Next

” Identify yourself!” Soterius challenged

the darkness, as the hoof beats drew closer at the perimeter of the camp.

241

“By the Whore,” Vahanian cursed as he stopped his horse just within view. “Just let me get to bed.” He dismounted and stumbled, nearly falling.

“Let me go,” he growled as Cam and Soterius rushed forward. Vahanian knew there was no hiding his injuries. Blood caked his right leg, seeping from beneath a makeshift bandage. His face was bruised, his lip split and, from the feel of it, one eye was beginning to purple. From the way it hurt to breathe, Vahanian knew the guardsman’s staff had broken a few ribs.

“I’ll get Carina. Help him back to his tent,” Cam offered, rousing another guard to take his watch as Soterius slipped his shoulder under Vahanian’s arm.

“No, don’t do that…” Vahanian protested, his voice trailing into a weak curse as Cam disappeared.

“Not too anxious to be healed, Jonmarc?” Soterius chuckled. Vahanian groaned, resigning himself to his fate and accepting the help Soterius offered.

“I wouldn’t mind the healing if it didn’t come with an opinion,” he muttered darkly.

“You know, Carina doesn’t do that to just anyone,” Soterius replied. “I’ve found her to be quite pleasant. And she gets along very well with Tris,” he added. “Very well.” “Oh yeah? How did I get so lucky?” “Don’t know. Maybe she likes you.” “You’ve got a real sense of humor,” Vahanian replied, attempting not to limp and then giving up the effort. “That’s as likely as a visit by the Goddess herself.”

“Stranger things have happened,” Soterius laughed. “Of course, it’s always possible that you just annoy the hell out of her.”

242

“More likely,” Vahanian replied. “Much more likely.”

They reached Vahanian’s tent and Vahanian eased himself onto his bed. Soterius found a lantern and soon, Vahanian had light sufficient to survey his injuries. “Meet up with an old friend?”

Soterius asked.

Vahanian shifted and winced. “An old business acquaintance, if you really want to know,” he said, using both hands to straighten out his wounded leg and pulling at the bandage to expose the deep knife gash beneath. Soterius poured water into a pitcher and reached for a clean rag. He wrung it out and handed it to Vahanian, who began to dab gingerly at the wound, cleaning away the worst of the caked blood.

“There are easier ways to settle accounts,” Soterius replied, leaning back against a tent post.

“Like changing your name, for starters.”

“Very funny,” Vahanian replied dryly. He tore the cloth back from his wound and dabbed at it again. Soterius reached under the cot, rummaging until he found a flask of brandy and a cup, and poured Vahanian a long draught.

“How’d you know where it was?” Vahanian asked, licking the strong brandy from his lips.

Soterius shrugged. “Didn’t figure you’d travel without it, and since I didn’t see it, where else would it be?”

Vahanian chuckled. “Has anyone ever told you you’re smarter than you look?” he jibed.

243

“Funny, I’ve heard the same about you.”

From beyond the tent, they could hear footsteps and Carina’s voice. “This is what you interrupted us for, Cam?” Carina protested, stopping in front of the tent. “What was it? A tavern brawl? Sell some bad brandy to a guard? Knife in the back from a lady friend?”

“Look, he’s hurt bad,” Cam said in his most persuasive voice, and without even seeing them, Vahanian could imagine Cam mustering his best boyish grin to win over Carina. He didn’t need to see Carina to imagine her response.

“I’ll bet Jonmarc sent you because he knew what I’d say if he came himself,” Carina said darkly.

“Didn’t he?”

“Come on, Carina,” Cam wheedled engagingly. “I know you two don’t always see eye to eye. But look at it this way—you’d heal one of the horses, even if it nipped, wouldn’t you?”

“That’s going too far,” Vahanian muttered. “I’ve gotten over worse, without help,” he said, scowling. Returning his attention to his leg, he dripped a few drops of brandy into the wound, then stiffened, gritting his teeth with an expression that drew a chuckle from Soterius.

“Give up, Jonmarc,” Soterius said. “Nothing can save you now.”

They heard running bootsteps as a third person joined Cam and Carina. “What happened?”

Maynard Linton puffed. “The guard sent word that Jonmarc came in looking like he’d been dragged by a wagon. Oh good, Carina, you’re already here. Come on,” and with that, Maynard pushed into the tent, pulling Carina by the wrist, with Cam bringing up the rear, a bemused smile on his face.

244

“Goddess of Light, Jonmarc,” Maynard exclaimed, shaking his head as he took in Vahanian’s state. “What did you stir up this time?”

“Just a little friendly conversation,” Vahanian deadpanned. Even Carina’s disapproval softened as she surveyed the extent of his injuries.

“Lie down,” she said dryly. He winced as he leaned back on his elbows, then lowered himself onto his back. Carina frowned as she examined the gash in his leg, motioning Cam to bring the lantern closer. Cam handed her the bag of medicines and poultices he carried from her tent, and she rummaged through it, selecting a handful of herbs and a vial of blue liquid.

“What happened, Jonmarc?” Linton asked as Carina began to work on Vahanian’s leg.

“Like I said, I ran into someone I knew from a while ago—ouch!” Vahanian replied, stiffening as Carina poured a few drops of the blue liquid onto his wound. “What is that stuff, fire?”

“Not anything a mercenary of your renown should find troubling,” Carina replied coolly, and Linton stifled a snicker.

“Anyway,” Vahanian continued, “he was… dissatisfied with some business we did. And when he happened to run into me at the tavern, he and his friends decided to even the score.”

“Did you learn anything at the tavern— besides about avoiding past customers?” Linton asked.

Vahanian nodded and started to answer, but just then, Carina laid her hands over his wound and 245

Cam motioned them silent. The big man stepped forward to place a hand on Carina’s shoulder, and she nodded slightly to acknowledge his presence. Carina closed her eyes, and her features relaxed as she fell into a trance. Gradually, a faint blue light glowed around her hands over the area of the wound. Vahanian stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, and Carina removed her hands, revealing a closed wound that looked as if it had several weeks of good healing behind it.

“How…?” Vahanian asked, completely serious for once. Cam motioned him to be quiet and guided Carina to Vahanian’s ribs, opening up what remained of his torn shirt. Vahanian winced as she touched the skin above the broken ribs, then the faint blue light shone once more.

Soterius watched the mercenary relax as the healing penetrated the broken bones. Even Linton let out a low whistle of admiration, and Soterius crowded forward to see better.

Carina was tiring, but Cam gently guided her hands to the worst damage remaining— Vahanian’s badly swollen nose. Vahanian attempted to watch, then gave up and closed his eyes, as the soft blue light flared again, reducing the swelling and beginning to knit the broken bones. Finally, Carina leaned back against Cam, exhausted.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to get over that lip the old‐fashioned way, with a cold rag,” she murmured tiredly. “But the rest should be better.”

“Thank you,” Vahanian said, no sarcasm in his tone this time.

Carina hesitated. “It was nothing,” she said, looking down at her hands. “I can help you go to sleep now, if you’d like.”

“Can’t, just yet,” Vahanian said. “Have to tell Maynard something.”

“Whatever it is can wait for morning, Jonmarc,” the wagonmaster chided gently.

246

Vahanian shook his head determinedly. “No. There’s danger on the road north. Slavers. And some stories about ‘magic monsters’ that actually sound like there’s something behind them.”

“The hell I won’t!” An angry voice shouted from outside the tent and a moment later, Kaine shouldered his way inside, dragging a large sack behind him.

“Linton, I need to see you,” Kaine demanded.

Linton turned to him wearily. “Not now, Kaine. Whatever it is can wait ‘til morning.”

“No, we need to talk now.”

“You can talk elsewhere,” Carina said sharply.

Kaine glanced over at Vahanian and barked a coarse laugh. “Marvelous help you hire, Linton.

Amazed he wasn’t too drunk to find his way back.” He gave a patronizing smirk in response to Carina’s disapproving glare. “Linton and I have business to discuss. You’re dismissed.”

Cam growled and took a step forward as Soterius reached for his sword. Vahanian’s hand fell to the knife at his belt.

“I’d advise you to apologize to the lady,” Vahanian said.

“Enough!” Linton snapped. “Jonmarc, put down the knife. Cam and Soterius, that’s enough. And as for you, Kaine, whatever it is we can discuss it in the morning.”

247

“I’m taking half of the caravan down the Karstan Pass in the morning,” Kaine retorted, and smiled smugly at Linton’s reaction. “You heard me. Those tales about the haunts in the forest aren’t just for children. Unnatural beasts are about.”

“Those beasts are the stuff and nonsense of the bards,” Linton replied.

“Is this real enough for you?” Kaine rejoined, reaching into the sack. He withdrew the severed head of a beast with the jaws of a deep‐water fish, protruding eyes and slits for ears. Vahanian looked away, remembering another time long ago, when such a beast had given him the scar that ran from his chin down into his collar.

Linton caught his breath in amazement. “Where did you get that… thing?”

Kaine dropped the head back into his pack and folded his arms across his chest. “One of the scouts found it not a candle’s mark from here. Bad enough that such a monster exists, but…

where’s the beast that killed it?” he said, leaning closer to Linton. “That’s why half your caravan is going down the Pass.”

“But the Pass leads away from the Dhasson border,” Carina protested. “And some of us must get to Dhasson.”

“Lady, Dhasson’s at war,” Kaine retorted. “They’re overrun with beasts like that one,” he said, toeing the bag. “And to get there, we’ve got to cross a forest that even the mages avoid. Not me.

Think about it, Linton. Head for Dhasson and you arrive with half a caravan. Go with us, and you keep it all.”

Linton’s face was by now so red with anger that the little man looked ready to explode. “Get out of my sight, Kaine,” he roared. “And take the spineless sons of whores with you who want to go.

This is my caravan and I’ll choose its route.

248

I’ve led my caravan through blizzards and deserts, and around army lines. Dark Lady take me if I’m going to be frightened off by granny‐witch tales, or the likes of you.”

Kaine raised his hands in mock appeasement. “Suit yourself. But Dhasson’ll be a mighty scant profit without half your wagons.”

“I built this caravan without you, and I can do it again, if I have to, you thieving whore’s son!”

Linton ranted. “Now get out of my sight and be glad I don’t use you as bait for another one of those goddess‐damned things,” he said with a nod toward the bag on the floor. Cam advanced another step toward the roustabout, who looked from Cam’s menacing form and Soterius’s sword to Vahanian’s knife blade, then to Linton’s apoplectic expression. Snatching up his bag, Kaine huffed toward the door.

“Mark my words, Linton, you’ll be sorry,” Kaine threatened as he pulled back the tent flap.

“You’ll see.” He ducked out just in time as Linton snatched up a goblet and heaved the heavy cup at Kaine’s head. The group looked in silence at each other after the roustabout left.