The Windsingers (20 page)

'What did she tell you? Janie?'

'Her grandfather's story. She spoke it like a litany, in his words, and, I swear, in his voice. What a burden to put upon a child.'

'The old are more often righteous than kind. And was it any use to you?'

Vandien shrugged. Her hands were warm, her eyes saw only him. 'I shall look in the southwest corner of the temple. The chest is not over large, but it is as heavy as two strong men can lift. And I shall not let my foot slip between any rocks.' He sighed. And I know full well that if I do find it, I may pay for it with my life. But that information came from Killian, not Janie.'

Srolan nodded. 'I thought I felt the tingle of wind magic in the air this morning. It's a good sign, Vandien. They fear you, and try to scare you off, but only because they fear you may succeed where others have failed. That is because you have the will to succeed.'

Srolan rose suddenly, dropping his hands. She paced a turn around the room, her blue cloak billowing about her with the energy of her movements. When she stopped, it was sudden, and her eyes pierced him for secrets. 'There is much more afoot with the Windsinger than our hunt, Vandien. I have been far afield this day. The winds will tell secrets, to any who know how to listen. I have been listening hard. The Windsingers' minds are turned from us, are focused on things closer to their home. Killian fears, because she knows she stands alone against you. No help can be spared to her. Your stubbornness scares her. Believe me when I tell you this: her little demonstration for you this morning cost her. Summoning a wind is no trifling task. She will have to rest now, and reassemble her strength for this evening. My suggestion is this. Do not wait for her to be ready.'

Vandien found himself nodding. Through the unshuttered window was coming the early noise of a village that rises to festival instead of work. Idle talk and laughter rose. Beneath, the inn floor shook to the tramp of early traffic. Voices called for spiced wine, for a hot bowl of chowder. But in Vandien's room they planned, no merrymaking, but battle.

'Janie suggested that I follow an old custom. She told me to follow the tide out, not wait for it to ebb and then go out. The difference seems small.'

'An ebbing tide reveals things, Vandien. She gave you sage advice. As the water drains out of the temple, you may catch a glimpse of something revealed for a moment by moving sands. If you spot it then, and get a rope on it, you have all of the tide to haul it in. I've rope for you, by the way.'

'I assumed a fishing village would have plenty.'

'Not like this. This will not slip out of a knot, nor stretch when it gets wet.' Srolan produced a coil from within the voluminous cloak. Vandien looked at it in dismay. The line was no thicker around than his finger. She tossed the coil to him. It landed heavily in his lap. He fingered the smooth grey surface. He twisted it against its lay, but could get no strand to buckle.

'Kerugi made,' Srolan replied to his questioning glance. 'A friend sent it to me. Fine stuff. Those tiny fingers can weave the smallest strands into a tight whole. You can trust it, Vandien. As you can trust me.'

She strode to the window and glanced out at the alley and street below. 'The jugglers did come. That's fine. I must go now. You will be wise to get what rest you can, for your tide will be late tonight. But for me, holiday goes on below. There will be festival cakes and rare good drink. There will be stories, too, and song. Old as I am, I am a child for those things. No matter how they weary me, I cannot deny them to myself. Rest well.'

'What of Janie?' Vandien's voice halted her by the door.

'Janie? I've no doubt that she's out and about, below. She works a bit for Helti, you know, for he watches over her little sister by day.'

'I mean, when this is over, what of Janie?'

Srolan's shoulders fell. Her steps were slow as she came to lean on the foot of his bed. 'Janie. A pity we cannot save it all, make it all end as happily as an old tale. Well. If you succeed, her story will be vindicated. She is the granddaughter of a hero. For a day or so, that is. Then Janie will find that the doings of our ancestors carry little weight today. She will find she is still Janie, the daughter of a drunken wreck. She will be treated no differently. In fact, it may make things worse. If you are the granddaughter of a hero, folk expect more of you than if you are the granddaughter of a liar.'

'And if I fail?'

'You won't.'

'But if I did?' he persisted stubbornly.

'Then it would be just one more year. She would be teased for a few days past Temple Ebb, and then she would be forgotten. In a few more years, her sister will be old enough to help her with the dory, and they will earn a better living. She will have coin of her own, and more young men will look at her and consider that they might do worse. Not that I think Janie will ever take one of them. She remembers too well, that girl. She could list for you every taunt she has received since she could toddle. That's one problem of a village this size. All the children grow up as playmates. I doubt there is one man in this village who has never made a jest of her.'

'Except Collie.'

'Collie.' Srolan pursed her lips thoughtfully. 'That's so. He was too busy defending himself to have time to tease others. She might take Collie.'

'Might she leave False Harbor?'

'I doubt it. Few born here do, you know. Look at me. I was born here.' She came closer, her shadow falling over him. Her voice was soothing suddenly. Vandien did not start when her fingertips touched his face. She trailed the backs of her nails lightly over his forehead. His thoughts went wooly. 'Rest now. You can do nothing about Janie. She was here before you came to False Harbor, and will be after you've gone. Let her weave her own life strings. Go to sleep, Vandien. We shall need your full strength. I'll see that you are called in plenty of time to eat, before you go to follow the tide.'

She smoothed the pillow beside his face. He felt her deft tuggings as she pulled blankets up to cover him. It was odd, but he could not recall lying back on the bed. 'Sleep,' she told him again, and her touch was gone. He thought he heard the closing of the door, and then sleep took him.

With reawakening came terror. Ki screamed, sliding back to life on the sounds of her own fear. She had no sense of location or time; only that she was alive and wished to remain so. Sensation after sensation struck her. She was cold. She was spattered with a foul-smelling liquid. Bells clanged close to her ears. She was blasted with sand that scoured the skin from her flesh. Brilliant lights pulled her eyes from their sockets, seared them to blindness. She was plunged into a darkness so intense that pastel sparks of light danced upon her brain.

Was it for seconds or days that she endured this? Ki did not know. But she knew that pain was life, and clung to it even as she fought it. The head on her arm chattered interminably to itself, but she paid it no need.

The universe split open like a rotten canvas sack and Ki spilled out of it, tumbling through light and cool air. She landed badly, thumping the air out of her lungs. Her head bounced against the hard-packed earth. The wizard's body landed heavily atop hers. His head was crushed between them.

With a grunt and a shudder, Ki shoved them off. She could stand that contact no more. She scrabbled blindly away from them, to collapse on her belly. Sweet, sweet grasses poked against her face, precious earth pressed her grasping hands. A stream of muffled curses rose behind her. She rolled farther away from them, onto her back. Her eyes watered as she stared gratefully up at a pale morning sun beginning to blaze in a pink and blue sky. She breathed deep of the smells of earth and grass and river water. Somewhere a horse snorted noisily. Ki gave a glad wordless cry at the sound of it. She heard her name called. She lolled her head in the direction of the call, grinning foolishly.

Dresh's body had struggled to a sitting position. His handless arms groped awkwardly about seeking for his head. The head was face down in dry grass where it had tumbled when Ki pushed it off her chest. The grass was muffling his shouts. More by chance than guidance, one of the block hands clunked against the head. With judicious pushes, the body was able to right the head on its mounting block. Ki watched in fascination.

Dresh's grey eyes blazed as he spat soil from his mouth. Like blind puppies seeking warmth, the hands were crawling up the body's trunk, dragging their shared block of stone behind them. Ki could summon up no amazement at the sight; it only seemed mildly comical, a clown's charade in early morning light, after the darker magic just survived.

When she could compose herself, she took a deeper breath of the fresh morning air. 'Are you alive?' she asked inanely, ignoring the stream of invective she interrupted.

'Small thanks to you, but I am!' Dresh retorted acidly.

'So am I. That's good, I suppose.' She could not call her mind to order. A thousand questions bubbled through her thoughts. None seemed pressing now. She asked at random, 'What brought us here? How did you call it?'

Dresh stared at her, his eyes bright with tears. He coughed and spat out more dirt. His voice was hoarse. 'The summoning of that one is beyond my skills, teamster. There are those who say that only a Windmistress of the Windsingers has a voice that can call up one of those. And it is too draining of power for them to consider it worth their time. No doubt it was only our good fortune that one was in our path.'

'No doubt,' mumbled Ki as she rose to dust the leaves and dirt from her clothes. She had hardly heard his words, too many other things claimed her attention. She stretched, enjoying the freedom of possessing her own body and senses. It seemed a luxury beyond belief. And this world of hers! Had there ever been a more lovely place? The perfection of autumn leaves pressed against the blue sky, the subtle blending of scents in the crisp air! There was a wagon drawn up in the shelter of the trees. It was her own. Dust streaks marred the brightly painted panels of the cuddy. The open freight bed was splintered and worn from a thousand loadings. Never before had she seen it so clearly, or so gratefully. Beside it a large grey horse cropped grass. Harness marks scored his hide. Would she ever tug at the reins again without remembering Dresh's pre-emption of her body and will? A newly hatched guilt uncurled in her soul. Before it could nibble, Dresh's voice broke her thoughts.

'Ki.' His voice was weary, almost saddened. 'My powers are ebbing lower with every breath I take in this form. It has drained me more than I expected. I can no longer reassemble myself unaided. I must have Karn Hall at Bitters, with its congenial convergences, and my servants to assist me. And we must hurry. Rebeke may have given me up, but there are other Windsingers. Take my hands, if you will.'

As if to mock his words, a sudden breeze gusted up from the river. A prickle of fear stirred Ki's hair. She scrabbled to her feet, snatched up the hands on their block of stone, and tucked the head on her arm. The body lumbered after her as she ran to her wagon.

The hands she set within the cuddy on her bed, the head on the plank driver's seat. The body had to be tugged and hoisted awkwardly onto the box. It all but tumbled into her cuddy. She shuddered as she watched it push the hands over and casually usurp her bed.

'Now get that team hitched! Forget the rest of it; there isn't time! Cut the picket ropes, don't bother to untie them! Ki!'

She ignored Dresh's useless directions and commands as she jostled her horses into place. Buckles and straps resisted her weary hands.

'Ki, the wind magic will be upon us in moments! I have no strength to stave them off! Leave those trinkets and let us be off!' If the head had possessed a set of lungs to power it, it would have been roaring. But Ki turned a deaf ear as she scooped up her kettle and mugs, to tumble them pell-mell into the dish chest strapped to the side of the wagon.

'Trinkets to you,' she explained breathlessly as she vaulted up onto the sea. 'But for me the trappings of my life. I will not abandon them. Get up, you two!'

The last she called to her team. The greys lunged against the traces as another gust of wind buffeted the side of the wagon. Clouds swirled up from nowhere to obscure the blue skies. The wagon bounced and rocked as Ki forced the team back to the main trail. From the roots and potholes, she tried to pretend, but she knew it was the gusting wind hitting the square side panels of the top-heavy Romni wagon.

'Put me within!' Dresh's voice finally broke through the rush of the wind and reached Ki's ears. She glanced over, to see that the head on its stone had slid dangerously close to the edge of the seat. One more jolt would have sent him over the side. With one hand on the reins, Ki reached out to slide the head back to her side.

'Have you no fondness for the open road on a fine day like this, Dresh?' she asked innocently. 'After all, the show is in your honor.' The gusting wind seemed to switch directions every minute. Ki's hair streamed across her face, whipping her eyes. The horses plunged against their harnesses, fighting the sudden windstorm. The sky had greyed; morning was twilight.

'If we meet someone on the road, the show will be in your honor!' Dresh shouted breathlessly above the roar. 'I suppose you prefer to be stoned to death as a witch rather than feel the wrath of the Windsinger?'

'Neither has much appeal,' Ki admitted. She pulled in her team long enough to slide open her cuddy door and place Dresh within, none too gently. As she shut the door on his complaint and took up the reins, a bitter smile touched her mouth. This was what too much association with wizardry did to one. She had not even considered how peculiar it would be to meet a lone teamster with the head of a wizard on the seat beside her.

A spattering of yellow-green leaves ripped early from the trees recalled her to her danger. She called to the team and they picked up their pace.

She forded the river recklessly, not trying to pick the best path but the quickest. The team plunged into the grey rush of water. The tall wheels jounced over rounded river stones. The great hooves slipped and nearly floundered. The wind whipped water white against the wagon, and flung it up into her face. It drenched her, and suddenly the wind was icy against her, reddening her hands and making her body tight with chill.

On the far side of the river, the trail became wider and straightened itself. The team heaved and strained to haul the heavy wagon up the slippery bank. It seemed to take an age, and once they were up on the trail again, Ki dared not halt to let them breathe. She longed to whip them up into a full gallop, to carom down the trail, away from this accursed forest and river and the magic it seemed to invite. The wind battered and threatened her. She forced herself to calmness. Her ponderous beasts could not maintain a gallop long; it made no sense to burn their strength that way.

A peculiar high-pitched note mixed with the wind. It was not at all similar to air moving through trees. Suddenly her team showed no inclination to settle into their usual plodding pace. Ki watched the four ears flicking about nervously. The incessant wind continued to rattle the wagon as they jolted over the little-used trail.

The stench hit them with the next gust of wind. Sigurd screamed and plunged forward in his harness, dragging Sigmund along. Ki couldn't hold them in. She tried to keep the reins firm, to let them feel some measure of control from her, but she knew they had taken their heads. The wagon jounced and rumbled alarmingly. From within the cuddy she heard muffled curses and cries. Dresh was not enjoying this rattling. But Ki could not take her eyes from the trail or spare him a thought. It took all her skills to influence the team as they careened down the trail. She kept them, as best she could, to the middle of the path. The great hooves threw up chunks and clods of earth. Foam laced the grey backs. She prayed that they would meet no one coming from the other direction. She tried not to imagine her team colliding with another team and wagon.

But it was not a team and wagon that suddenly confronted them. It was no creature Ki could put a name to, and the source of the terrible stench. It dropped from the sky to hang before them on the unnatural wind. Its wings were like tattered sea canvas, at once in this world and some other. Its body was all claws and eyes. The plunging team reared and tried to halt, but the impetus of the wagon pushed them on. Ki heard the screech of the protesting wood as the balking team racked the wagon, and then jerked on in terror as the wagon rode up on them. The creature kited over them, giving a cry between a screech and laughter. Ki saw it fold in its gruesome wings. It dropped. It would land squarely on the backs of the panicked greys. It was twice Ki's size, with wings added on. The wind boiled about her, whipping her hair across her face, stifling her with the stink of the beast, and adding its roar to the distressed screams of the horses.

But even as the noisome creature extended its claws to land, a sudden gust of a new wind buffeted it from the side.

The perfume of the warm wind cut through the stench of the creature. It swirled against the chill wind that rattled Ki's wagon, to put her and her team in the calm eye of a storm of warmth and fragrance. The hapless sky creature was sucked up in it, thrown aloft and spun about. Its tattered wings flapped like the stained rags on a street beggar as it was flung about in the suddenly hostile wind. Ki strained to master her team and keep them on the trail. They needed no encouragement to run now, and she no longer wished to hold them in. She sent tremors of encouragement down the reins to the greys as their huge legs stretched and reached, snatching up lengths of the trail and flinging it behind them. The trees on either side of the trail were flogged clean of leaves by the battling winds, but they traveled in a tunnel of silence, moving in the eye of a storm that moved with them, sheltered by a buffer of warmth and scent.

She heard wild cries and the snapping of branches as the sky creature was mastered by the warm wind and dung to its fate in the reaching branches of the trees. Ki sensed that she moved through the midst of a great battle of wills. She felt, not protected, but possessed. These winds battled over her and her wagon, and more so over its contents. No matter who won, she could not expect mercy. Yet, hoping against hope to be claimed by neither, she urged on the team that was racing to exhaustion.

She did not feel the rain. The warm wind did not let it through to pelt her with its icy blows, but it could not prevent the rain from soaking the trail ahead, changing its hard-packed surface to slick mud. The wide hooves of the team slid and scrambled, the wagon fishtailed madly behind them. Ki wished vainly for her freight load of earth and stones in crates. The empty wagon was too light to travel at this pace over wet earth; a heavier wagon would have made it possible to control the frenzied horses. The greys raced on, the wide backs rising and falling before her frantic eyes. If one did not slip and break a leg, they would run themselves to death.

The forest began to thin. They passed two small farms in clearings on one side of the trail and the trail grew wider and showed signs of more use. Ki and her storm of destruction had invaded the periphery of a farming area. She watched the fields crumpling under the onslaught of the storm she brought. Wind harvested the grain; cattle fell under the hail. No Humans or Dene moved outside their farmhouses. All had doubtless fled to shelter from this unnatural weather. Ki doubted that they even heard the rumbling passage of her wagon through the rumbling of the thunder that rose to confront her.