Forest Mage (72 page)

“But Epiny seemed to have a great deal of energy. The way she’s organized all those women with whistles. Didn’t you say she was trying to hold classes or lessons…?” My questions trickled away as Spink shook his head.

“She starts things. Every day, she gets up, saying that she’s not going to let it win. We both do. But by afternoon she is weeping, or we’ve had a quarrel, or worst of all, she simply sits and stares out of the window. This dark magic is devouring her, Nevare. It eats at me, but Epiny is more vulnerable to it. You remember what she once told us? That it was like a window had opened and she couldn’t shut it? The sadness comes in that window and Epiny’s life leaks away through it. I’m losing her, Nevare. Not to death, but to…sadness. Bleakness that never goes away. And for what? So that we can push a road through by the shortest possible route, regardless of what it does to the people who live here, or what they do to us in retaliation?”

He stood up slowly. The coffee had just begun to smell like coffee. He didn’t seem to notice. “I’ve got to go home to Epiny. I’m not going to tell her all of this, Nevare, but I am going to tell her that you are here and alive.” He walked toward the door.

“Spink—hold on a moment. Did Amzil give you my entire message? Did she tell you to send for more of your Bitter Springs water?”

He smiled sourly. “Nevare, you are so accustomed to life on the King’s Road, aren’t you? Bitter Springs is far more isolated. There is no regular courier run to my home. Sending a courier to Bitter Springs would cost me most of a month’s pay. And my message would not reach my brother until weeks from now, if it arrived at all. Add to that the time it would take for a wagon with casks of water to make the trip. With great luck, it might reach Gettys before next winter’s snow closed the road.”

“So, you didn’t send the message,” I confirmed quietly.

He shook his head. “It would be pointless.”

I was silent for a time. “How many of those little bottles of water do you have?”

“Now? I have three left.”

“That’s all?” I was horrified. “What happened to the rest?”

He shrugged. “Almost as soon as Epiny arrived, she began to give them away to people she met. I hid three, for she was determined to pass it all out. I’ve told her it may not be enough to help anyone. After all, I immersed her whole body in the water to cure her. She seems to think if they drink it at the beginning of the fever, it may cure them. As for ourselves, she believes that since we took the Bitter Springs cure, we are immune. I’m not so certain of that.” He hesitated, then asked, “Did you want some for yourself?”

“I…no. Thank you, but no. I’m sure the magic protects me now.”

“You speak of the magic as if it were a thinking entity.”

“I’m not so sure it isn’t. I still don’t know what it is. But I don’t think I’ll need any of your water. If the magic can heal a bullet graze in three days, I doubt it will let me die of the Speck plague.” A new thought chilled me. “Unless, of course, it suits the magic’s purpose.” I shook my head, refusing to let my thought follow where that might lead. “When I asked about the water, I wasn’t thinking of myself, but of Amzil and her children.”

Spink smiled. “Epiny has already provided for them. She and Amzil have become quite close. As for the children, they are almost like our own.”

“I’m glad of that,” I said, and was surprised at how grateful I felt.

He was quiet for a moment and then said, “For what it’s worth, Nevare—I think she cares for you, too. Her terror at the thought you were dead surpassed the caring of a friend.” He turned toward the door. “And speaking of that, Nevare, I must go. It’s cruel for me to let them dangle in suspense while I tarry here, talking with you. I’ll admit that I dread rushing back to Epiny’s wrath. I fear her forgiveness will be slow in coming.”

“Blame it all on me,” I suggested apologetically.

“Oh, never fear. I fully intend to.” The grin he gave me was a cracked imitation of his usual one. I was still glad to see it.

I spoke before I could lose my courage. “I’ll come to town tomorrow, Spink. I’ll come to your house. We can tell people that I went there to visit your maidservant, Amzil.”

He folded his lips for a moment and then decided to speak. “Odd how easy it is for you to arrange a ruse once
you
decide to do it.”

I bowed my head to the rebuke in his voice. I could imagine the scene he was returning to, and dreaded my own next encounter with my cousin. “I’ll see Epiny and tell her that all the secrecy was my fault, not yours. And I’ll go to headquarters and report I was attacked.”

He glanced back at me. “And prove it how? You’re completely healed of a bullet wound in less than three days. There’s no evidence you can offer that you were attacked. What are you going to tell them?”

“I’ll think of something.”

He nodded grimly and left. I barred the door after he’d mounted and ridden away. I took the coffee from the fire and poured myself a cup. It wasn’t what I wanted, but I sipped it anyway. It was hot and bitter and did nothing to assuage any of my hungers. While Spink had been here, I’d been able to call my thoughts my own. Now that he was gone, I felt besieged again.

“
Nevare.
” Olikea’s call sounded closer.

“No.” I said aloud. “I’ve had it with you and your magic.”

I
did not intend to sleep that night. I did not want to wake finding I had sleepwalked into the forest. I sat up in my chair by the fire. As the night crawled past, I drank mug after mug of steaming black coffee. The summer evening outside was balmy, so I let my small cook fire slowly die. I watched the flames falter and shrink until they subsided as a ripple of light over the dwindling coals.

From time to time, I heard Olikea call to me. With every summons, temptation flamed up in me, but I was determined. Covering my ears did nothing to muffle her invitation. The magic conveyed her call to me rather than the utterance of her voice. Was she in league with the magic or only the unwitting tool of it? Perhaps it was only that she wanted to use the magic in me for her own ends.

The last cup of coffee from the pot was thick and bitter. I’d worked hard all day and my body ached for sleep. The night had
reached its coolest point, and I felt chilled. I longed to wrap myself in a blanket but resisted. Too much comfort would make me more susceptible to sleep. Dawn would come soon. I rubbed my eyes, stood up, and paced around the room. I yawned hugely and sat down in my chair again.

“Nevare.”

“I’m not coming.”
I leaned my head back on the hard top of my chair and stared into the shadowed corner of the room. I could picture how irritated she would be at my refusal. She’d be standing just inside the new forest, just beyond the spring where I filled my water bucket, naked to the night, heedless of the chill and the settling dew. I had noticed something the last time I was with her; even in the darkness, I could sense the dappling on her skin when I ran my hand down the smooth curves of her back. There was a very subtle difference in the texture from dark to light. My mother had used to favor a fabric that had that texture. What had she called it? I couldn’t remember, and that saddened me. Another little bit of my old life gone from me.

“
Nevare
.”

“Leave me alone, Olikea. You don’t love me. You don’t even know who I am or where I came from. You’re just the same as Amzil. She can’t see past my fat to discover who I am inside. You can’t see past my body either. But to you, it’s what makes me desirable. It’s probably the only thing that does.”

“Who is Amzil?”
It was a sharp, suspicious query.

“Don’t worry about it. She is just another woman who doesn’t love me.”

“There are many women in this world who do not love you.” She puffed her lips at me disdainfully and lifted her chin. “Why should you care about one more?”

“There you are absolutely correct. There are multitudes of women in this world who don’t love me. In fact, if we were looking for women who did love me, I think we could quickly narrow it down to two. However, one loves me as a brother and one as a cousin. Neither is very satisfactory to a man.”

“Why not?” She stood just under the shadow of the trees. Her basket rested on one outthrust hip. I could smell the mushrooms,
and the soft, heavy petals of a pale water blossom that tasted like sweet pepper. The necklace I had given her glittered around her throat. It was the only thing she wore. Her jutting breasts seemed to offer themselves to me, a warmer sort of fruit. For a moment, I could not think.

“A man wants more than kindly affection from a woman. He wants all of her.”

She puffed her lips at me again. “That is a stupid thing to want. Only a woman can have all of herself. You should be happy with what any woman offers you, rather than to want everything she is. Do you offer all you are to any one woman? I doubt it.”

That stung. “I would if a woman offered all of herself to me. It is hard for me to be with someone who holds herself back from me. My heart doesn’t love that way, Olikea. Maybe among your folk that is how you love. But among my people—”

“Your people and my people are the same people, Nevare. Over and over I tell you this. Cannot you learn it? The People are the only people you have now, Nevare. And we offer you everything. So why do not you love us with this ‘heart’ of yours? Why do not you come to us for every day and every hour, and use the magic of the People as it should be used?”

“To do what?” I asked her. We had moved closer together. The cool mud of the spring’s edge cradled my bare feet. The night did not seem so dark. There was light in the spring water that glinted up at us. The light in Olikea’s eyes was twin to it. I smelled the startling tang of crushed fruit. It was a berry in her hand. She reached up to my unsmiling mouth to push it gently between my lips. Her fingertips lingered a moment on my tongue and then drew back, painting my lips with the stinging sweetness of the fruit. My senses reeled with the flavor, the scent, and her touch.

“This is a new taste for you,” she whispered. “They grow only in our dream country. And only a Great One like you is allowed to eat it. I can taste it only when I taste it on your mouth.” With sticky fingers, she hooked my face, pulled it closer, and lapped her tongue lightly across my lips.

A man can only bear so much. My dreams of true love and the fulfilment of a life shared dissolved beneath a wave of simple lust. I
caught her up and pulled her close. She let the basket of food fall. I tasted the skin of her neck, breathed in the scent of her hair.

She laughed softly. “Remember, I do not love you as your sister does, nor as your cousin does. I do not love you as a plain-skin woman would love her man. So this—” and she touched me teasingly “—is not enough for you. Is it? You don’t want this from me, do you?”

“I want it,” I told her fiercely, imprisoning her in my arms. “I want it, but I want more than just this. Can’t you understand that, Olikea? Are our peoples truly so different?”

“Our peoples? I tell you and tell you. You have only one people. There is only one people, the People. They are our people. All others are strangers. All others threaten our ways.”

“I don’t want to talk right now,” I decided. I stooped and picked her up in my arms. She gave a whoop of surprise and flung her arms around my neck. I liked the feeling that I could startle her, that I could move her with my strength. It fueled my lust.

I carried her deeper into the forest. Magic surged in me with the heat of desire. I made a gesture, and moss and fallen leaves gathered themselves into a couch for us. Another motion of my hand, and a tree branch drooped to become a support for a vine that suddenly draped itself into a bower around us. Fragrant flowers opened to perfume the night. I banished the small stinging insects that had come to investigate us, and invited instead the little glowing moths, that I might better see what I touched. I lavished magic with a free hand. It was as simple and natural as the way Olikea opened herself to me, and as mutually pleasing. This night I led and she followed in that most ancient dance. In our previous times together, she had always taken the role of aggressor, and I had been astonished to find how much pleasure I could take in that. This night, I think she was equally surprised to find that a male could command her pleasure so completely. Discovering that I could render her near-mindless with bliss bolstered my sense of myself as nothing else had in the previous year. It spurred me to greater efforts, and when at last she lay beside me, slack in my arms, I felt I had proven something to her, though I could not have said exactly what.

We dozed. After what seemed a very long time, she asked, “Are you hungry?”

I nearly laughed. “Of course I’m hungry. I’m always hungry.”

“Are you?” She sounded concerned. She set her hand on my side tenderly. “You should never be hungry. Not if you would allow me to care for you properly. Not if you allowed me to feed you as you should be fed. How can you do all that the magic wishes you to do if you do not eat as you should? You must pay attention when I call to you, and eat every night of the food I bring to you. You must stay close by me so that I can bring you to the peak of your powers.”

She stood up and stretched. “I’ll be right back.”

I lay where I was on the moss, trying to find thoughts that belonged to me. I hadn’t intended to come here. Yet here I was, enmeshed with Olikea again, and listening to her scold me for not letting the magic have its way with me. I knew it was a problem, but I couldn’t bring myself to care about it.

She returned and sat down in the angle of my body, her back against my belly. She leaned back on me a little and rummaged in her basket. Some of the fruit had been bruised in the fall. I could smell each separate one quite clearly. She offered me a lily leaf. “Eat this first. For your strength.”

I took it from her and ate a bite. “So. You anticipate I will need more strength tonight?”

I was surprised when she giggled. “You might. Just eat it.”

I obeyed and then asked, “Does each food you bring me have its own virtue?”

“Here, yes. On the other side, sometimes food is just food. To eat. Here each one is a piece of magic. What you eat here is far more potent than anything you eat on the other side. It is why it is so important that you come here every night.”

“What other side?”

“The other side of here,” she said impatiently. She took another lily leaf, put an orange section of root in its center, and rolled the fleshy leaf around it. “Like this. Eat it like this.”

I obeyed. The orange root was slightly sweet. Weariness fell away from me. I reached over and pulled her basket closer to me.
“What is this one for?” I asked, taking a clump of pale yellow mushrooms.

“For walking the web more strongly.”

“I don’t understand.”

She puffed her lips at me, and then made a dismissive gesture with her fingers. “Just eat it. Trust me. I know these things.”

The mushrooms had an earthy flavor, rich and dark. She followed them with a double handful of berries so ripe and sweet that they burst in my hands before I could get them to my mouth. Each had a flat seed inside it, strongly piquant. As I chewed a mouthful, she said, “You should go now, so that you can come back to me on the other side before the light is too strong. You do not need to bring anything with you. Simply go and then come back to me.”

I didn’t understand, so I avoided the question. “The light doesn’t bother me.”

“It troubles
me
. And you need to be with me, so that I can show you the way to the deeper place. We think that one of the old ones will fall tomorrow. The magic will waken with great fury then. It would be better for us to be sheltered from that wrath.”

“I cannot go with you tomorrow, Olikea. I promised my friend that I would come to visit him in Gettys. I have to keep that promise.”

“No.” She shook her head. “Tomorrow death sweeps through that place. It will only make you sad to see it. Come away with me.”

Every word she spoke jabbed me like a small pin, awakening me to my other life and the dangers that threatened it. While I loitered here with her in satiation and contentment, my friends were in danger. The closeness I had felt to her was thinning like darkness before the dawn. “Were you there?” I asked her. “When your people danced the Dust Dance in Gettys, were you there, spreading disease with the dust?”

“Of course I was,” she answered promptly. There was no shame in her voice, no regret at all. “You saw me leave by the gate. I thought you would come with me, but then I saw that you had
her
with you. So I left you.”

I lifted her hand that rested against my ribs and looked at it.
“With this hand, you threw the dust that will make all of them sicken with the plague?”

She twisted her hand from my grip, and then held it palm-up and fingers loose. She shook it like that. “It is the winnowing. The dust flies and blows and settles where it will. Some will walk the path of the winnowing and some will not. Of those who walk the path, some will cross the bridge and others will not. Some will serve the magic: they will cross, but come back to us, briefly, as messengers from that far place. Among our people, we honor those ones as worthy of a tree. They send down roots to one world and reach up branches to another. They stay among us then and grow, and wisdom grows with them. You, you bury your dead to rot, as if you care nothing for the wisdom of that world. The messengers who come back to you, you ignore and bury beneath the earth. We have tried to help you be wiser. We have tried to give some of your people trees so that they could grow in wisdom, but never does it work. The tree does not thrive, or one like you comes to tear them free from the tree and throw them back into a hole in the ground where they rot like bad seed.”

I sat very still. She took another lily leaf from the basket, rolled it around an orange root, and passed it to me. I took it from her absently. I could almost understand what she was telling me. The little I comprehended frightened me.

Olikea took pleasure in her musing. “A few, a very few like you,” and she patted me fondly, “pass through the winnowing a different way. No one knows what makes the dust change you. Perhaps it is not that the dust changes you, but that you have already changed in a way the dust cannot alter. Great Ones can cross the bridge more than once and return to stay among us as members of the People.” She shrugged. “Perhaps it is because the magic knows its own. It is a thing to think on, sometimes, when one does not feel too much like sleeping. But it is not a thing to be troubled about, because it does not matter if we ever understand it or not. It is for the magic to know. We can be content with that.” She spoke softly, contentedly, as if this was a philosophy of life. To me, it was her justification for the slaughter of innocents. I felt sudden disgust
with myself that I had whiled away these hours in animalistic pleasure while in Gettys men, women, and children were beginning to burn with the sickness she had sown.

“You can, perhaps, be content with that. I cannot.” I rolled to my belly, pushing her away from me in the process. She made an annoyed sound. I got my knees under me and then stood up. “I am leaving, Olikea. I will never come back to you. I cannot be with you again. I cannot accept what you have done to my people in Gettys.”