Thick as Thieves (23 page)

“You really care for him, don’t you?” Understanding softened Reannry’s voice, and he caught a hint of envy in her eyes.

“Truest man I know. If he’s hard, it’s because he’s never known a safe way to be soft.”

“Gillja said once… she said the Circles and the old mothers were wrong about him. Maybe she knew something I don’t. If he can work keyholes—” With a sigh, Reannry shouldered her bag and cocked her head. The wind teased strands of hair away from her face. “I’m going to go into the city,” she said. “If Flemgu’s wizards somehow already brought Gillja to the Guild Keep, we’ll do no good waiting here. Ibeena has ears in every quarter, even there.”

The plan made sense. He doubted Gillja and her escort of wizards and soldiers, however many remained, could have traveled so quickly. But if they had….

“Go.” He and Madd would be fighting force enough should it come to that, and Reannry would but provide the wizards with another prize if they were bested. “Bring help if you find any.”

“An army of witches?”

He laughed at her cheeky grin. “Witches or rats, or thieves if need be. I hardly care so long as they come well-armed.”

The sun had slipped deep behind the hills, the last of its sanguine glow vanishing below the horizon by the time they reached the road. Vorgell and Madd crouched in the concealment of a thicket that afforded good lines of sight, watching Reannry vanish around a bend. The murky light only emphasized the hollows and shadows of hardship on Madd’s face as he opened a sack.

“At least she didn’t take the food. We can eat. How do you know she’s not going to come back with the city guard?”

Vorgell sank to his ass and stretched his legs before him. He had a good view of the road from here, and an appetite worthy of a lord. It had been too long since he’d eaten a meal. “Even you don’t believe she would do that,” he pointed out. “And if Reannry can bring back help, all the better.”

“The kind of help she’d bring, I’d rather avoid.” Taking a seat beside him, Madd sighed. “We don’t have a plan, you know. What do we do if the damn wizards ride up with Gillja? There are only two of us.”

“Us two… and surprise. Surprise is a good third.”

“Yes, but it disappears after the first blow is struck.”

“Don’t be grim. You are good enough with a sword not to get killed straight off, and I have always been worth three men in battle.”

For a while they sat in silence, chewing their bread and some very good cheese from the baron’s kitchen. Then Madd said, “I don’t have a sword. They took that away. I have a long knife. And they’re riding horses. There’s a good chance they’ll ride right past us.”

“No one rides quickly at night. They won’t risk laming their mounts.” Vorgell shrugged. “Chances are they’ll stop for the night. We’ll sleep in shifts.”

“You don’t understand wizards,” Madd said. He frowned toward the road. “They practice necromancy, the arts of the dead. One of the first powers any self-respecting wizard seeks to acquire is that of seeing in the dark. They move through the night like fiends themselves. Only the sun and the moon limit their abilities.”

“Perhaps now is a good time to tell me how.”

“I don’t exactly know how, but think about it. Light defeats Dark every morning when the sun rises. Wizards’ fiends are less powerful in daylight, and even the moon can help keep them at bay. The dead walk on moonless nights, and wizards keep them company.”

“And what about you?” Vorgell asked quietly. “Your name… Moondark. Is Moon from your mother?” Something Reannry had said made him think that.

“Yes.” Madd didn’t look as though he wanted to talk about it, but when Vorgell kept silent, he finally did. “The dark part means I was fathered against her will. That’s dark, see… not light. Dark like death, not life. According to witchkin, that means I am ill-conceived, an abomination, and my life attracts evil. Which I have proved abundantly. My mother died because of what I did, and my Gran died while I was living with her.”

“Even if you were not there, I think the baron would have killed her… or given her over to a wizard.”

“Wizards wouldn’t want her. Old womb, old bones.” Madd shot him a rueful look. “My Gran slipped me something before she died that day. A spell. A powerful spell she told me to make certain got to Gillja. That’s why I didn’t fight harder to avoid being taken. They killed Gran straight off and… I let myself be taken, so I could deliver the spell.”

“Did you?”

“Yes. Two days later, after Flemgu tired himself out.” Together they peered into deep shadows through which the road emerged as a fitful pattern.

“What kind of spell was it?”

“The kind Gran spelled to a lock of my hair. Gillja snipped the lock off with silver scissors. But I don’t know what the spell was supposed to do. Maybe it was that killing spell Flemgu accused her of. Damn witchkin women, you see, they never tell men anything.”

The forest around them had fallen under the cover of night. Vorgell liked night well enough, better than Madd did. He liked the way the rich smells of leaves and earth and all things living filled the night air. The people of Scur claimed descent from the Wolf Father who had torn open the belly of the sun to release life upon the world. Every manner of creature had sprung forth, including those men and wolves alike had hunted since. That he should have a hunter’s keen senses was something he’d always taken as a part of his birthright. Like now… Madd usually smelled better, but he always smelled
warm
. Warm and earthy and slightly sharp, a scent more vigorous and alluring than any woman’s. If Vorgell had ever doubted what he wanted for his bed, he had found it beyond all doubting the day he’d hefted Madd over his shoulder and carried him off into the woods. The memory alone made him hard.

He regretted that his raiding days were past. Just a few short months ago, he would have thought nothing of hauling Madd off and thinking he might claim him for a bed partner. His stint as a slaver’s property had taught him much, as had seeing Madd in the clutches of wizards and fiends. Slavery, for all its advantages to the enslaver, no longer held the same appeal as a means to gain a lover.

If only to distract his thoughts from an aching erection, he forced his mind to other things.

“We should have had her stay,” he said, prompting a lifted eyebrow from Madd. “Reannry. She’s good with spells. She could have put them to sleep.”

Madd shook his head. “Wizards’ wands protect them from magic. Sort of the way your unicorn horn-endowed body protects you. The bone absorbs ordinary spells.”

“Ah. I didn’t notice in the castle because I killed the wizard first.”

“We can’t defeat them with magic. And we have to be quick, or find some way to prevent the wizards from unleashing their fiends. It’s getting damn cold. Can I lean against you? Or is that basilisk in the way?” Madd twisted to see behind him. Vorgell grinned and pulled him near. Petal was in his other pocket. The way the smaller man tucked against his body, head resting on his broad shoulder, caused his cock to become hopeful again. It strained against the leather and wool of his britches.

“We have the cloak of shadows,” he pointed out. He sat upon the pouch into which he had stuffed the invisible garment. It made the hard ground more comfy. He bent his head until he could bury his nose beside Madd’s ear. “And I’m sure you can work a little magic. Leave the wizards to me… what can you do about the horses or the soldiers?”

“I can pray that the moon will have risen before they appear.”

T
HE
plan, when it came together, was a daring one. Madd was unconvinced, but Vorgell liked daring. It allowed the big barbarian to show off his impressive skills as a raging lunatic. Madd only preferred daring to hopeless—and he had been in more hopeless situations lately than he ever wanted to see again. At least their plan wasn’t hopeless.

He listened to Vorgell’s steady breathing and eyed the moon. It had risen a few hours ago and now rode just above the trees. The bright silvery light bathed his hand when he held it out, and he felt the gentle tingle of magic. The gift was subtle, but he could work spells by shaping the fragile beams. Like most witchkin powers, moon magic was elusive. His mother had never taught him how to use it. He had reminded her too much of someone she could never love. But his Gran had tried, once she knew he possessed the talent. From her he had learned a handful of moon spells. One of those spells might prove useful tonight.

He sighed, nearly content. It wasn’t just Vorgell’s body heat that had him feeling mellow. They’d just pleasured each other for nearly an hour. He’d been more distracted and intent on gathering magic than sunk in the moment, lifting his head every so often while Vorgell sucked him as enthusiastically as a bathhouse whore. The man literally could swallow his cock and nuts whole, and the experience was amazing. Best of all was that he felt so incredibly serviced by this man. Vorgell’s every movement, caress, and kiss respected that he, Madd, was calling the shots. And that was what he needed.

He had to be in control. If not, he felt cheapened and used, and that was never much fun. Why else had he sought out men who wanted to be ordered to their knees just to experience having an ill-clothed street boy fuck their mouths or asses? He’d usually take their gold and run off, leaving them gaping or tugging up their britches while he escaped into Gurgh’s decaying buildings and alleys. That was his scam. He’d promise men heaven and steal them blind. It wasn’t a reputation of which he was proud.

That skill now helped him keep the demons at bay. He could pretend to himself that it hadn’t been him, not really. It hadn’t been him who had experienced pleasure while being screwed in the ass, or spoke pathetic professions of love to men he hated. Any time he wasn’t in control, men made him do things, become a thing he wanted to destroy.

Because he wanted to be more than a piece of trash other people could use and then throw away, he was good at acting as though he was special. He pretended to know the secrets of sex and fooled men into thinking he was worth the price. But Vorgell confounded him because he believed it. The most amazing part of all was that Vorgell was the truly special one. Madd doubted he would ever meet another man whose come exploded with pure magic in his mouth. For a moment he eyed Vorgell’s bandaged wrist and his heart expanded. The oaf had bitten himself bloody just to revive him.

No one else would have done that for him. No one else could have.

Damn it, what was happening to him? Was he actually… fond of Vorgell? And why shouldn’t he be? The man was sex on the prowl, predatory, healthy, and built to enjoy lovemaking for hours on end. Madd would never find a man with a more beautiful cock, or one so perpetually ready to give or receive pleasure. Considering the magical gifts attached… hell, he’d be a fool to turn Vorgell away.

He studied Vorgell’s sleeping face, appreciating him anew. Madd was just about to smile when he caught the slight movement of Vorgell’s jacket and saw a pointy face with a beaky nose and unblinking eyes appear, soon followed by a stocky small body on four squat little legs. Whatever she’d been eating, Petal was easily twice as big as she’d been upon hatching. Her small spine bunched and she hissed, spittle flying in his direction. Fortunately, Madd was far enough away all it did was land on Vorgell’s arm.

Madd narrowed his eyes right back. The basilisk wracked his nerves. He never knew when its ugly little head would pop up and stare at him. Or what would happen when it did.

“Trying to kill me again? Well, it’s still not working,” he said.

Petal lifted her crest and thrashed her tufted tail. He sighed. So that was how it was going to be.

“Really? Well, I don’t like you all that much either,” Madd snapped to the nasty little creature. “Listen here, Petal. That damn collar wasn’t my idea, and I’m not the one who trapped you in it, so stop acting like I killed your mother.” His own words shocked him. With a sigh, he decided to temper his hostility. Whether the basilisk understood him or not, the damn thing was an infant, and Vorgell coddled it like a kitten. “You may not like it, but Vorgell’s not getting rid of me, not after all this, and I’m not getting rid of him… so you might as well get used to having me around.”

Petal sank onto her belly and lowered her head and tail. He thought she might have hissed again but couldn’t be sure.

“Besides, it’s not like I’m trying to get rid of you. I just don’t want to be turned to stone.” He locked eyes with the basilisk and added, “It will make Vorgell happy if we get along.”

Making Vorgell happy was the only reason he could think of to keep company with a basilisk.

The bigger problem was that none of it might matter come morning. First they had to survive tonight. And there was a very good chance surviving tonight meant defeating the baron’s wizards. As wizards went, Baron Flemgu’s were the dregs, a pair of idiots farmed out to a noble house because they’d been unable to progress beyond their limited abilities. But even a crap wizard commanded enough dark forces to be dangerous.

Madd leaned forward and looked closely at the road, picking out the snaking trails of several vines he’d laid across it. He’d never been much of a student of cottage magic, but if his old Gran’s spell worked, he’d find the old woman’s grave and confess his debt to her spirit. His ears picked out the sounds first, an errant clank of harness. He gave Vorgell a nudge that sent Petal scurrying back into the barbarian’s pocket.

“Wake up. We have company.”

“Is Lady Gillja with them?” Vorgell bounded to his feet and, with a sweep of the cloak of shadows, disappeared from view.

“How can I tell? They’re too far away for me to see.” Madd scrambled after the sounds of Vorgell’s footsteps, amazingly soft for so big a man, crushing moss and leaves underfoot. He knew where to be and hunkered behind the half-rotted trunk of a long ago fallen tree. Peering beneath it, he spied the riders as they entered a patch of moonlight.

A woman slumped atop one of five horses. He knew her for Gillja by her hair. It wasn’t true all witchkin were small and dark: Gillja Sunraven had hair of purest gold. An allophane band glittered on her brow, and her hands were tied in front of her. The baron’s wizards rode with her, looking no less exhausted. The two remaining riders were soldiers.