Tyrant Trouble (Mudflat Magic) (23 page)

Nance
showed considerable control for someone who usually gave way to screaming. I could
feel the agitation of her thoughts, almost as though she was drumming her fists
on my shoulders.

Time
slowed, the way it always does when waiting, but at last we heard the heavy
rough sounds of the guard's breathing and knew he slept soundly and with his
mouth open...

At
other times of danger I had hesitated. This time all I thought about was
getting help to Tarvik, and tiptoed silently across the dimly lit room.

As
I passed the guard, he rolled over and uttered a sound. His outstretched hand
grazed the hem of my cloak. Every muscle in my body tightened. My skin went
cold.

He
rolled away to face the wall, his hand clutching the sheepskin, and sucked in a
noisy breath. The sound was probably the buildup to a snore. I found myself on
the far side of the secret doorway with no memory of my last few steps.

When
the magician and Nance were beside me, I pressed the stone to seal the
entrance. We led the magician to Tarvik's room.

The
old man bent over him and touched his skin. He ran his fingers over Tarvik's
throat until he found the faint pulse, then peered closely.

“Is
he drugged?”

The
magician shook his head. “He is alive, which is good. Drugged, yes, not
poisoned. He will remain like this through two risings of the sun.”

“Two
days! We will have to hide him for two days.”

“It
could be worse, dark woman. With a deathwalker in the castle, I feared much
worse.”

“That
servant of Ober? What could he do?”

To
my surprise, the magician looked frightened. He shook his head, refusing to
speak any more of the deathwalker.

“But
why would anyone drug Tarvik?” Nance asked.

I
said, “To give herself time to do what she wishes, without Tarvik's
interference.”

“It
is you, Stargazer. She wants to destroy you.”

“Or
both of us.”

“But
why?”

The
magician said, “One who knows this drug also possesses drugs to control the
mind. If she has access to the prince, she can make him do her will.”

I
didn't know why he explained this. He didn’t care about Tarvik's fate. Perhaps
he was concocting the worst reason he could think of so we would believe we
needed his help. Or else he was telling the truth.

Didn't
matter. We could not take a chance on Ober's control. If Kovat's battles kept
him away throughout the winter, he might return in the spring to find he no
longer ruled his city. And Nance and I would be long since dead.

“Can
you wake him from this trance?”

He
shrugged. “From a potion? I owe you that for my freedom. But I see nothing here
and my own powders were taken from me.”

“What
is it you need?”

“Leaves.
Roots. They could be gathered and mixed but I cannot wait to be captured
again.”

“If
you had the plants you need, how long would it take you to mix your powders?” I
asked.

“A
few moments.”

“And
how quickly would Tarvik waken?”

“By
morning.”

With
no assurance he spoke the truth, I decided to accept his offer. Without Tarvik,
we were all in big trouble. “So we need to hide Tarvik for now.”

Nance
and the magician shouldered Tarvik's weight between them, scuttling sideways in
the narrow passage. I walked in front of them, feeling my way in the dark, my
fingertips grazing the stone walls until we reached the end where I opened the
outer door. Because it seemed likely the magician might try to leave us, I
mentioned to him that our guards waited by the trees. Without the magician, the
best we could do was hide Tarvik in the temple for two days or more and hope
his mind returned, a plan filled with way too many possible disasters.

However,
the magician stayed with us, despite old Lor's arrival and scowl of distrust.

“He
is the only one who can save Tarvik,” I whispered.

Lor
grunted, touched Tarvik's face which was now as chilled as death, then said,
“Cover the magician's eyes.”

When
the magician did not protest my wrapping my sash across his eyes, I knew he had
decided we were his best chance. We carried Tarvik through the stable to our
chambers in the temple.

Nance
said, “Lor must gather the plants. Tell him what you need, magician.”

“They
cannot be found in the dark,” he objected.

“I
can find them,” Lor said.

The
roots and leaves that the magician required were common plants. Lor knew the
hillside. He said he could put his hand on any plant from memory as well as
sight.

Although
we did not remove the magician's blindfold until we were inside the temple, it
seemed to me a useless precaution. Anybody would know from the smell that he
had been led through a stable. When we reached Nance's chamber, I pulled off my
black wool cloak and tossed it to the shivering magician, then handed him the
bread left over from our supper and a mug of mead.

Following
the magician's directions, Nance and I shouldered Tarvik between us and walked
him up and down the length of the room.

His
chin dropped forward on his chest. He breathed in ragged gasps, and sometimes
not at all. When he fell silent we both panicked and shook him until his head
rolled back and forth and he again began gasping for breath. His feet dragged
and his knees buckled.

It
took all my strength to hang onto him and I stumbled sideways with one shoulder
wedged under his arm and both of my arms around his body. I thought Nance,
Tarvik and I would all end in a pile on the floor.

Just
about when I was ready to give up and collapse, Lor returned with the roots and
leaves. He took my place supporting Tarvik while the magician ground the herbs
to bits. The bits were then covered with boiling water to brew into an
evil-smelling tea.

Partly
to gain distance from the yukky smell, and partly to pull myself together after
way too much tension, I wandered out to our private courtyard. Took a deep
breath of clean, cold night air and gazed up at the stars in the silvered sky.
I noticed a few embers in the fire pit.

And
the gate open.

I
caught a glimpse from the corner of my eye and moved carefully. My back was to
the side wall near the gate. I did it slow step by slow step, kept looking at
the stars, acted casual until I felt the wall against my spine. Slowly I
lowered my head, let my eyes move sideways, saw him.

He,
too, was pressed against the wall in shadow to one side of the door. Watching
me. Inside the deep hood all I could see was the dark glitter of his eyes
picking up the reflection of the fire pit. Or maybe his eyes really were red.

“Don't
move.” He slowly crossed the court toward me.

Okay,
this guy was tall and from his reputation I had to guess he was strong and
could deliver a wicked punch. I could shout for help but obviously he had
dismantled our guard again. Lor would come running, a strong old man but no
match for this creature.

Halfway
across the court he reached out one long bony hand. If it hit my windpipe, I’d
be dead. Lor might throw a knife if I screamed. Would that help?

This
creep was a deathwalker, no heartbeat.

Could
a deathwalker be killed?

Maybe
I should run out the open gate, down the hill screaming. And maybe Ober's other
guards were out there waiting.

Fighting
was pointless because even little Nance was twice as strong as me. Okay,
Claire, think. If you got no strength, what's left? Oh yeah, wits. Maybe I
could talk him to death.

“What
are you doing here?” I asked and tried really hard to sound calm.

“Where's
the prince?” he whispered.

“What
prince?” I asked, a tad louder.

“If
you call the others, they all die.”

If
he wasn't called deathwalker for nothing, we were in trouble. Still, I wasn't
good at the suicidal thing, not if I could avoid it, and I glanced at the fire
pit behind him

Maybe
I could lower my head and run, butt into him, maybe knock him into the fire?

“Where
is the prince?” he asked again.

A
form moved in the doorway behind him and I knew it was Lor. Did he have a knife
or some other weapon? That might work. Or not.

Could
this man be harmed? I had to let Lor know the problem, so he could grab the
others and get them out through the stables and, damn, here I was playing
sacrificial whatever, not my normal personality. Still, maybe they could bring
a bunch of guards and I could hope they got here before I did my final check
out.

“You
know what?” I said, loud enough to hold his attention and warn Lor and also
cover any sound Lor might make. “You've got no heartbeat, fella! How come?”

He
hesitated. With his back to the fire his eyes still glowed red, not a pleasant
sight. “How do you know that?”

“I'm
magic. That's what I do. I know things. You have no heartbeat, so I guess that
means you're already dead, guess that means it's too late to kill you. Are you
a vampire?”

“What?”
He stopped and waited, not worried. He knew he had me trapped and so he wasn't
in a hurry. That did not make me feel better.

“Vampire.
A dead thing brought back to life, that can be offed with a wooden stake. Or a
cross. Or garlic.” I went through all my memories of vampire movies and ran out
of information.

He
started moving toward me again, so I was also running out of time.

“None
of what you say means anything. I cannot be destroyed. But you can.”

With
one more step he was in reaching distance, grabbing while I was ducking, his
hand going past me into the wall. My luck ended there. His other hand dropped
and caught my shoulder, sent me spinning. I hit the wall so hard I thought I
heard my bones break.

Pain
shot from my shoulder to my neck to my head. There were lightning flashes in my
eyes and for a second I couldn't see, couldn't hear. Unfortunately, I could
feel. Something warm and sticky, which always means blood, streamed down my
face from a burning pain on my forehead.

My
hands went numb under me, fingers popping. I tried to push away from the ground
to get up, but I couldn't move. Then my fingers closed around dirt and I
managed to pull together a handful.

Those
skeleton fingers hauled me up and I tossed the dirt into the open hood. He
shoved me back against the wall so that I was facing him and rubbed at his eyes
with his other hand.

“You're
dead,” he hissed.

Behind
him shapes moved. I had to hold his attention. I did what any city girl knows
to do. When all else fails, scream.

I
shrieked, “Dead like you! You're dead, dead, dead!”

His
fingertips touched my throat, started to push. I couldn't move away so I kept
screaming until my voice cut back to a gurgle. My breath caught, going nowhere,
stuck. I tried to kick him, couldn't lift my leg. The moving shapes, the
fireglow, the red eyes, all started blacking out on me.

And
then the hand fell away and he let out one rasping howl. I slid slowly down the
wall, sat on the ground, breathed. When I could see again, I really liked what
I saw.

Lor
held the deathwalker while the magician reached around him and wound a rope.
They had dropped a blanket and the rope over his head, worked together those
two, and snared the man. When his arms were bound to his sides, they tossed him
on the ground and tied his thrashing legs and feet. Crisscrossing ropes held
the blanket around his hooded head. We could hear muffled curses.

“Take
care of Tarvik,” Lor told the magician. “I'll get this one.”

I
scraped myself off the ground and followed the magician back inside. The
magician's tea was ready.

It
was a good thing Tarvik was unconscious because that was the only way he could
have got his nose past the smell to drink it. The magician dribbled the mixture
down Tarvik's throat, as well as down the front of his tunic.

He
said, “Keep him on his feet and he will wake sooner. Now you must let me go.”

I
agreed, not so much for his salvation as for ours. Given enough night cover, he
could be free of the city and into the hills before his absence was discovered.
I doubted the guards would bother to check his cell until time for his morning
meal. The success of his escape mattered as much to us as to him. If caught, he
would be forced to tell how he had escaped and who had helped him.

When
Lor returned, I told him the deal we'd made.

“For
the good of all of us, he needs to get away from here.”

Lor
nodded. He did not like to do it, but he knew I was right. I followed them back
to the gate where our poor guard lay moaning. Going to have another monster
headache, that boy.

Lor
had a horse waiting. Bound with more leather straps and tossed across its back
was the bundled shape of the deathwalker.

“What
are you going to do with him?”

“Rid
us for good,” Lor said.

The
magician said, “He can't be killed.”

“He
has no heartbeat,” I agreed.

“He
can be buried,” the magician said.

Lor
grunted and that's when I noticed the spade balanced loosely on his shoulder.

“You
wouldn't bury him alive?” As soon as I asked, I wished I hadn't.

“Go
help Nance,” Lor said.

He
didn't wait for me to answer. He set off on foot to guide the magician through
the darker paths, beyond the guard routes and the huts and tents, until the
magician would have a good start on pursuers. We couldn't give him a horse
because a horse would be missed, but we sent him off with a wool cloak and with
a pouch of food.

The
magician said, “I will not thank you for my life, star woman. You took my one
chance to regain for the god of Thunder the allegiance of Kovat. In releasing
me this night, you have balanced our debt. If we meet again, we owe each other
nothing.”