Bastion (44 page)

He listened with every fiber, and tried to hear their thoughts, but the talismans were all awake and concealing everything. He didn’t
think
he’d betrayed himself—

:It was me. They sensed me,:
Dallen said with chagrin.

:Hell. Well, at least they didn’t tell the Sleepgivers.:

He couldn’t see them from where he was, not without exposing himself. But the arrows were burning out . . . and their eyes were more blinded by the light than the defenders’ were.

Take the risk and take a shot with a throwing knife, and chance getting an arrow? Amily was handicapped by a limited field of fire from that tiny window in the caravan . . . she might not be able to pick them off before the last fire-arrow burned out, and—

Suddenly he heard it—the unmistakable sound of two arrows fired off in quick succession—which was immediately followed by the sound of a scream and a gurgle and two bodies hitting the ground.

He jumped out of hiding and threw at the first thing he could see.

And then the entire cavern filled with light as the pile of oil-soaked wood in the firepit went up with a roar. Bey had set off the fire, probably by tossing one of those arrows into it.

“To me, cousin!” shouted Bey, and Mags raced across the space between them, putting his back to Bey’s back.

A glance at the archers showed him that the two archers weren’t dead yet; Amily was still shooting, keeping them from getting to the bows they had dropped. Then the three Sleepgiver swordsmen were on them, and he and Bey were fighting for their lives.

As contemptuous as Bey had been of these Sleepgivers, Mags didn’t see anything to hold in contempt, and from the grim determination he sensed in his cousin . . . neither did Bey.

But they fell into a rhythm as if they had been fighting together all their lives. Mags’ world narrowed to the three swords flashing in and out of range, his hunt for a target, and the need to keep his back to Bey’s. If either of them failed to cover the other, the Sleepgivers would surely see to it that was the last mistake they made.

This was dirty, brutal fighting, nothing pretty about it; if they hadn’t been fighting on bare rock all five of them would have been kicking or throwing dirt in each others’ faces. Nothing was off-target and there was no such thing as an illegal blow. If you could get it, you took it; a rush parried turned into a bash with the hilt to the face. Moments in, and Mags had a gash on his leg, a cut over his bicep and a bruised cheekbone.

But their opponents were in no better shape. One of them had a black eye that was rapidly swelling shut thanks to Mags; another had a slash across the forehead that was bleeding freely; Mags didn’t know if that was his work or Bey’s. The third had had to switch hands; his left was useless, thanks to Bey’s work.

Then it all came undone.

Bey slipped in a splat of blood and went down on one knee. The Sleepgivers all converged on him. Mags whirled and slapped away the blade of the first, and rushed the second, but the third had Bey wide open and Mags was not going to get there in time—

And then the third simply wasn’t there anymore, as a raging Dallen ran right over the top of him, turned in a flash, and pulped the head of the second.

Mags saw the opening, and took it, ramming his sword to the hilt in the first one’s chest.

Then he went to his knees next to Bey.

It was over.

Epilogue

“O
f all the things about you people, I am going to miss these the most,” said Bey, holding up a meat pie and gazing at it fondly.

The cave had been put back to rights. Everything was in its proper place, and all evidence of the fight was gone. The vanners dozed in their corner, having slept through all of the drama. There was a great fire in the firepit, and all of them were lounging around it on the cushions and rugs. Amily had warmed up some meat pies, since Jakyr was in no kind of shape to cook, and Lena had made everyone tea with honey.

Lita (to the surprise of both Mags and Bey) had helped Mags and Bey dispose of the bodies. They’d taken them to a spot where the cave floor opened into a black hole about as big across as a man was tall, so deep that the lantern didn’t even show the bottom, and a pebble tossed in took a very long time to fall. “I nearly fell in myself,” Bey had said, regarding the pit with an unreadable expression. “But now it’s proving useful.”

Poor Amily had been very sick, after apologizing about a hundred times that when she’d realized she was shooting at living human beings instead of a target, she’d flinched. Mags had just held her hair out of the way, wiped her face, given her water to take the taste out of her mouth, and said simply, “So did I.”

She would cry later, and he would hold her. She would never be the same. And yet, he was certain that in the end, she would be all right.

“I hope you do not mind that you are putting up with my presence until your Guard comes to free you,” Bey continued, after biting off a corner of crust and closing his eyes in pleasure.

“Mind that we’re sharing our living space with a multiple murderer?” Lita asked, dryly. “Of course not. You’re
our
multiple murderer.”

“Oh, Elder Singer, you say the
kindest
things,” crooned Bey. “Perhaps I should take
you
back with me. You would make the hair on the head of the Shadao himself stand on end.”

Lita just smirked.

“I’ll go den up in my own little lair when they arrive,” Bey continued. “You can take credit for taking out all the Sleepgivers yourselves. In fact, I think you should. Publicly. And, of course, this fight is where my cousin will have died. It’s as good a venue as any, and he’s been wearing the talisman since it ended.”

Jakyr and Lita nodded, and Amily held very tight to his hand. “Do you think there is any chance at all that the Shadao will think this is a ruse and send more Sleepgivers?” Amily asked anxiously.

“I would never say never, for only a fool would do that,” Bey replied, after a long moment of deep thinking. “But I think it highly unlikely. He has lost twelve of the high second-rank Sleepgivers on this venture. You people, whom we thought so soft, have proven to be anything but soft. There are a limited number of us, and losing twelve, plus the four he had already lost, means he has also lost revenue. We do not kill for pleasure, we kill because we are paid very well to do so, and it will be hard to replace sixteen Sleepgivers of the second rank. I think he will accept the ruse, even if he thinks it
is
a ruse, because he must.”

Silence reigned after that. It was very hard for all of them to find Bey charming, even admirable, and yet hear him say things about being a paid killer so casually. Only Lita seemed undisturbed.

“But, my friends, you should be deciding what you are going to do now,” Bey continued.

“Well, first of all, the Guard has a great many roads to clear, and a Herald on Circuit is not exactly on a schedule,” Jakyr pointed out. “We may end up waiting until a thaw. It’s not as if we don’t have supplies enough to last until then.”

“And we can hunt for fresh meat,” said Mags. “I wouldn’t mind doing that.”

“I would relish a chance to hunt for meat.” Bey’s eyes gleamed at the thought. “Could we do so tomorrow, do you think?”

“Dunno why not.” Now that was interesting; Bey was positively nonchalant about using his skills to kill humans, but got excited at the idea of
hunting.
Maybe all that nonchalance was a mask . . .

:Don’t count on it,:
Dallen warned.
:I know, it’s hard. I like him too. But he is what he is. And fortunately, once he goes home, he is no longer our problem.:

“I think we all need peace and quiet and rest,” Jakyr said, with a long look deep into the fire. He and Lita were sitting together, quite close together, although he didn’t actually have an arm around her. Yet. Mags wasn’t at all sure about how that was going to turn out. They had at least made up their decades-long quarrel and were friends again. Would they ever be anything else?

He didn’t know. He wasn’t about to predict. And it wasn’t his business, it was theirs. Some things not even a Herald was meant to meddle in. Not the loves of other Heralds. Not the morality of assassins.

“I would like that. I would not mind being snowed in here for a month,” Lita sighed. “Bey knows the caves. If we get tired of each others’ company we can go off exploring on our own.”

“I know the caves on this side of the valley, at least,” Bey replied. “And without false modesty, I can say I know them very well indeed. They are all interconnected, provided you don’t mind leaping or bridging a few holes to nowhere.” He ate another bite of his meat pie, and sighed. “They are quite fascinating. It looks as if—something—lived down here, and lived very well.”

“In fact, several somethings,” Jakyr said, brightening, and proceeded to explain the Hawkbrothers, their lizard servants, and some of the other creatures that lived in and around their Vales. For once Bey didn’t act as if he knew everything; his eyes were wide and guileless, and he asked dozens of questions. And when Jakyr was done, he sighed happily. “It is like tales I found in the ancient scrolls, only you have seen these things with your own eyes! It pleases me to know such things exist in the real world, though I will never see them.”

“You might,” Mags began, but the young Sleepgiver only shook his head.

“There will be no time. First, as soon as I return home, I must make sure to tell the Shadao some entirely true and truly evil tales of the demon-summoners of Karse. This will ensure we have no commerce with them while he lives. And it might mean he will take a closer look at those who make our talismans. And then I must find a Blessed maiden who has spirit and marry her and . . . huh . . .” His face took on a most thoughtful expression.

“What?” Mags asked.

“I believe I know just the maiden. She will not have wed in the time I was gone, for she is strong of face and spirit, rather than comely and pliant. Like you, Elder Singer,” he said slyly, with a little bow. Lita threw a pillow at him. “I like her, I just had never even considered wedding her, since . . . well . . . what young fool does
not
prefer comely and pliant until he grows to know better?” He nodded, as if satisfied with his plan. “This, I shall do. It is a good match. We like each other, and know each other, which is more than most who wed can say. I shall tell her of you, oh, my cousin, only you shall not be my cousin in the tale, but only a Blessed friend who helped me on my travels. Then I shall help her to become the partner that you, alas, will not.” He grinned broadly. “Thus, all my problems are solved! The Shadao will see that I have settled into responsibility and will call me heir. My wife shall be the treasure of my house and the guardian of my back. And perhaps we shall have Blessed children to also train! The Shadao will likely die soon after he names me heir, because he is sick and weary. And my wife and I shall guide the House of the Sleepgivers back to the old ways.”

Once again, Mags was starkly reminded that the ways of the Sleepgivers were nothing like the ways of Valdemar. The Shadao, who Bey lightly said was like to die soon . . . was his father. His father who Bey said had loved his mother. And yet the son spoke of him as someone he respected but scarcely knew.

“You make it sound very simple,” Lita said dryly.

He stretched, like a well-satisfied cat. “It is simple. The maid is like never to marry, unless I were to take her, or she were to marry beneath her, which she will never do. And as for returning the House to the old ways—not so simple, but neither is it difficult. It is not as if there are not many evil men in the world, and those who wish to see them gone and will pay well.”

“He has a point,” Lita told Jakyr, who was making a bit of a sour face.

“I don’t have to like it,” Jakyr retorted.

Bey laughed; apparently he found this very funny.

“Well, I can use a damn rest too,” Mags said. “Jakyr, we need t’get some help up here with these people. If the rest of the Circuit goes like this first part has, it’s pretty damn obvious to me that we need three Heralds comin’ one after the other to remind folks they’re part of this Kingdom. Maybe if they hadn’t been left alone so much, they wouldn’t be like this.”

“That’s entirely possible,” said Jakyr, with a speculative look on his face. “I think that’s a good idea. I think we should pass that on as soon as we can.”

Which means, “You and Dallen pass it on.”
Mags was pleased rather than otherwise. Why shouldn’t he be? This was Jakyr giving him responsibility.

But then Jakyr went further. “I have a profound apology to make to you, Mags. I berated you for trusting Bey, when Dallen and Jermayan backed you. I should apologize to Jermayan and Dallen as well,” he added, looking at the two Companions on the other side of the cave. Jermayan just gave his Chosen a long, withering look. Dallen gave the Herald a long, withering look
and
snorted.

“I give you both permission in the future to do whatever you feel you need to if I do that again,” Jakyr said, shamefaced. “I should have known better. I
did
know better. I let a great many things rule me when I should have been using my head.”

“Aye,” Mags said slowly. “Ye should have. I had t’learn the hard way t’use mine, reckon you had to do the same.” He shrugged. “When it comes down t’cases, there’s allus one thing. If ye can’t trust yer Companion, there ain’t nothin’ ye can trust.”

“You are going to make an excellent Herald, my cousin,” Bey said sadly. “Such a loss to me!” Then he brightened. “Still! There are
days
of excellent company and meat pies ahead of us! I shall enjoy them while I can!”