White Blood (20 page)

Eventually Carlich straightened. “If no one’s heard him by now, I doubt anyone’s there.” He put his hand on the door, but paused.

He turned to Maryn. “If I’m right, this is the basement of a building near the wall. You could hide there while I scout ahead. But I can’t trust you not to give us away.”

She would promise him anything if it persuaded him to take her beyond that door, where surely she could find someone to help her. “I swear, I won’t. I’ll do whatever you say.”

She poured all the sincerity she could muster into her voice, but perhaps she overdid it, for Carlich frowned. “You say that now, but what’s to keep you from yelling for help from the first person we see? I can’t keep a knife on you all the time. No. It’s a risky spell, and it will take a lot out of me, but I don’t think I have any choice. I should be able to keep it under control.” He studied her for a moment, and she gazed back, not understanding what he intended, but sure it was something terrible. He nodded, and sighed. “At least I can use your blood.” He extended his palm. “Give me your hand.”

“No, my lord, please…” Maryn stumbled back.

Carlich lunged and grabbed her arm, knife poised in his other hand. “Would you rather I cut your face?”

“No!” Maryn ducked her head over Barilan’s, pressing a cheek against the softness of his hair. Shaking, she shifted the baby to her hip, freeing the arm Carlich gripped.

He jerked it toward him. A quick flash of his knife opened a line of pain across the base of her thumb. Her blood welled out, running down toward her wrist. Carlich wiped his hand through the stream and waved it in complex patterns, his brow furrowed in greater effort than she’d yet seen his sorcery require. The blood sparked, and vibrations rattled in the bones of Maryn’s skull.

Something happened to her thoughts. She couldn’t identify what was different. She was still awake, still aware of everything around her. But she felt oddly numb. She started to wonder what Carlich had done, but the thought faded before it was fully formed. It didn’t seem important. Deep down she knew something was wrong, and tried to struggle against it, but she couldn’t summon the will to fight.

“There,” Carlich said, panting, but satisfied. “Follow me, and do nothing unless I tell you.”

“Yes, my lord.” Maryn’s voice was placid in her ears.

Her palm hurt, but the cut was sealed shut, no further blood escaping. She wrapped both arms around Barilan and followed Carlich. He waved his hand, still sparking with Maryn’s blood, to unlatch the door, and they ventured into the room.

It was a storeroom, piled high with boxes and barrels and sacks. Carlich crept down the narrow aisles until he reached a rickety stair. Barilan stared about with interest, and let out a string of inquisitive sounds.

“Silence him!” Carlich hissed.

In automatic obedience, Maryn put her hand over Barilan’s mouth, smothering his noises. In the distant corner where she was still herself, she was appalled that she would do such a thing, but she couldn’t even muster the strength to figure out why it was wrong. Barilan squirmed vigorously in protest and squawked loudly enough that her smothering hand could not muffle it.

“That’s no good.” Carlich looked around. Beneath the stair was a small triangular space. “Get under there. Keep him as quiet as you can. Don’t move until I come back.”

Maryn squeezed into the narrow space, hunching her body over Barilan. He broke into angry cries. Maryn unfastened the tie of her shift and latched him on. His distress made him willing to nurse, and he settled quickly.

Carlich padded up the stairs. Maryn heard the door at the top creak as he pushed it slowly open. His light footsteps slipped through, and it creaked shut again, closing with a bump.

Maryn was alone. She stayed perfectly motionless except when Barilan finished the first side and she transferred him to the other. Eventually he fell asleep. Maryn’s back ached from her awkward hunched position, and she was sitting on something hard that pressed into her thigh, but she didn’t shift her position. She could tell from the smell that one of the nearby sacks held apples, and her stomach felt like a great hollow drum, but still she didn’t move.

After a long time, the door at the top of the stair creaked open. Maryn’s heart quickened, but she couldn’t budge. Stealthy steps descended above her.

Carlich tossed a bundle of cloth toward her. “Here. Some less conspicuous clothes for the two of you. Get changed. It will be sunrise soon.”

Maryn crept stiffly out from under the stair and laid Barilan on the floor at her feet, ignoring his whimpers as the abrupt motion woke him. Ignoring, also, a faint twinge of humiliation, she stripped off her blue uniform bodice and outer skirt, and replaced them with the dull brown ones Carlich had supplied. He hadn’t provided a different shift, but hers was nondescript, indistinguishable from what any other woman in Milecha might wear. She knelt to remove Barilan’s ceremonial gown and dressed him in a long shirt. It was too large, and kept slipping off his shoulder, but it covered him adequately. There were even three clean diapers in the bundle; she traded one for Barilan’s wet one.

“Give me anything identifiable.” Carlich spread out her blue skirt and dumped everything else onto it, adding his own richly embroidered jerkin and soft doeskin leggings to the pile. He had changed into a much plainer outfit, Maryn saw. Her thoughts seemed a little clearer now, but she still couldn’t muster the initiative to ask him where he had acquired the clothes.

Carlich wrapped her skirt around the bundle and took it back to the door they had entered through, stashing it in the corridor. He regarded Maryn and Barilan. “Very good. No one will give you a second look. Now all we have to do is figure out a way past the wall. I know there must be places thieves and smugglers use. Come, I spotted a fountain where you can get some water.”

Maryn, fighting as hard as she could, managed to break through the numbness in her mind and tongue to gasp, “Food.”

“Yes, yes, we’ll find some food, too. One thing at a time. Just be happy I found a laundry where I could break in and get these clothes. Idiots. They should know if they’re too cheap to hire a night watchman they’re going to have things stolen.”

The struggle wasn’t quite so hard this time. “Apples.” Maryn jerked her head toward the sack whose tantalizing odors had mocked her for so long.

Carlich blinked. “Oh. If there was food down here, why didn’t you just take some? Go ahead, help yourself, and toss me a couple while you’re at it.”

Released to do what she’d been longing to do, Maryn fumbled with the mouth of the sack until she got the drawstring undone. The apples were dry and shriveled, the last remnants of the previous fall’s harvest, but she didn’t care. She hurled two toward Carlich to fulfill his command, and sank her teeth deep into the next one. It tasted wonderful, for all that it was mealy and tough.

Carlich rummaged around and found a wheel of cheese. He sliced through the thick rind with his little jeweled knife and cut off a generous piece. He grimaced at the state of the apples, but cut them open anyway and ate the fruit and cheese together. “I don’t know how people stand this dreck. That’s the blandest cheese I’ve ever tasted. Here, have some, if you can stomach it.” He passed Maryn a slice.

She devoured it, not perceiving anything wrong with the flavor. She felt much restored by the food and far more able to think. She swallowed the last bite of apple, and shifted Barilan to the other arm. Just before she began fighting to force out another unbidden word, she stopped. Her thoughts were as sluggish as flowing honey, but she managed to formulate a dim awareness that perhaps she should conceal the fact that the spell’s effects were fading.

“All right. Is that enough? Anything else you want to say?” Carlich eyed her sarcastically.

Maryn shook her head.

“Follow me, then.” Not looking to see if she obeyed, he set off up the stairs. Maryn hoisted Barilan to her shoulder and followed.

Eleven

T
he grey pre;-;dawn city was nearly deserted. Only an occasional cloaked and hooded form slunk by, intent on some business perhaps even more nefarious than Carlich’s. Maryn clutched Barilan close and hurried after Carlich. He led them through the narrow twisting streets, keeping to the deepest shadows, until they reached the large western gate where Maryn had first entered the city. It was closed and barred, even the small side gates shut up tight. A greatly increased number of guards paced back and forth before it.

“Gallows. Voerell’s got them on alert. We’ll never get through.” He stared for another long moment before setting off rapidly in a different direction. “I’ll try the north gate, but it’s probably the same.”

Maryn trotted after him, doing her best not to fall behind. Carlich led her to several more gates, all of which were similarly guarded. As the sun rose and the day brightened the people of Loempno filled the cobblestone streets. Maryn began to see clusters of guards striding by. Whenever one drew near she fought to cry for help, but her lips remained stubbornly closed. She could think much more clearly now, though, which gave her hope Carlich’s spell was weakening.

Carlich cursed and grabbed Maryn’s arm to pull her into a narrow side alley. She glimpsed a mass of bodies packing the street ahead before the building cut off her view.

“Now they’re setting up roadblocks. We’ll never get to the docks that way.” Carlich scowled and peered down the alley, but it ended in a blank wall only a short distance away. “Come on.”

Maryn shifted Barilan to her other hip and plodded after Carlich as he pushed through the crowd back the way they had come. She clung to the hope that they would still be within the city when the spell finally wore off. Carlich couldn’t renew it in public without attracting attention. Until then she could only bide her time.

The twisting path Carlich took to avoid the roadblocks eventually led them into a squalid area of ramshackle buildings and muddy streets. Dirty children darted away, and on every corner ragged beggars stretched out eager hands. Maryn hugged Barilan tight and pressed closer to Carlich. He ignored their surroundings, though his step grew less confident with every turn. Maryn couldn’t imagine that he’d ever been in this sector of the city before.

A group of women carrying baskets crowded past them. Their clothes, though threadbare, were neatly mended, and the handful of barefoot children among them had clean faces. Maryn caught a whiff of the familiar mingled odors of old sweat and lye soap, and knew the women were taking their laundry down to the river.

One woman in particular caught her eye. Though her basket was piled high with linen cloths that gave off the unmistakable reek of diapers, she walked unencumbered by any baby. Maryn wondered if she’d left her child tucked snugly in bed with its father. She swallowed and tried to blink away the tears that clouded her eyes. She stumbled into one of the women, and Maryn’s voice broke when she begged her pardon.

Carlich turned to glare at her. As soon as the women were out of earshot, he hissed, “What’s wrong? Everyone’s going to stare if you keep blubbering like that.”

Maryn would rather have died than reveal her private misery to Carlich, but the spell left her no choice but to answer. “She reminded me of how I left Frilan with Edrich and took my wash down to the river, the day of the fire.”

Carlich’s brow creased in puzzlement for a moment, before his expression cleared. “That’s right. I heard that your baby died. Well, it won’t do you any good to cry about it now, so stop.”

Anger blazed up in Maryn, fierce and hot. She welcomed the way it pushed aside her grief and cleared the dampness from her eyes. It occurred to her that perhaps this was some action of the spell, allowing her to obey Carlich’s order, but she didn’t care. She stared at Carlich’s back as he turned to resume his progress, imagining her gaze burning into his heart with sorcerous fire.

“Wait.” Carlich whirled back to face her, so fast she almost bumped into him. “Down to the river, you said? Do they have a way past the wall?”

Thrown into confusion, Maryn lost the focus of her anger and floundered for a reply. “I…I don’t know. Probably. In Ralo there was a little gate the women used. Maybe there’s one like it here.”

Carlich jumped on her words like a hound on a fresh scent. “Will there be guards?”

“I don’t know! I’ve never been to the one here. But there never were in Ralo.”

He eyed her for a moment before turning a speculative gaze on the women hurrying away. Wordlessly he set off after them, beckoning Maryn to follow.

The small postern gate was very similar to the one in Ralo. But this one had a single guard leaning against the post. He unlocked the gate for the women and waved them though.

“Gallows,” Carlich muttered. He peered around the corner of the last building and watched as the guard re;-;locked the gate. “Let me think.” He flexed his hand, which was crisscrossed with the many slashes he’d inflicted on it since the ceremony. Then he rolled back his sleeve and set the point of his knife against his inner arm, drawing it across his wrist in a slow, controlled motion. Maryn saw a tracery of similar scars marking his flesh. He swiftly sheathed his knife and gathered the spilling blood in his hand, his fingers making little dancing gestures the whole time. A generous handful of blue lightning built up in his palm.

Still focused on his arm, Carlich leaned toward Maryn, and whispered, “Go, talk to him. Pretend you want to go through.”

Maryn fought every step, but it was no use. She approached the guard. “Good morning, sir.”

He looked her up and down. “What do you want?”

“Please, I need to go down to the river.”

“Why? You’ve no wash with you. I’ve got my orders. No one goes in or out without legitimate reason, at least not until the kidnapper’s caught.” As Maryn tried to think of an answer, his eyes narrowed, and he put his hand on his sword hilt. “Wait a minute, girl. Who are you? What’s your baby’s name?”

A fierce buzz of magic rang in Maryn’s bones. Lightning lanced past her shoulder and into the guard’s chest, impaling him. Blue flames erupted from his wide, shocked eyes and open mouth, and he collapsed without uttering another sound.