Mastiff (44 page)

Sabine nodded gravely.

Farmer said, “Do you wish me to put out feelers? It’s risky. They might notice, but—”

Tunstall stopped him with a shake of the head. “We need you at full strength in case something comes up. Save your Gift.”

As we rode on, we left what had been mostly farmlands to enter forested country. It was here, in a clearing just off the road, that Farmer worked a spell of protection on Tunstall.

I had been bred to think an enemy with magic could work terrible things with someone’s hair, blood, or nail clippings, which was why anyone with sense burned theirs. To see Farmer go at the business of safeguarding Tunstall, you would think he did it only to soothe Tunstall’s nerves. A figure drawn in powder at Tunstall’s feet, the same figure drawn from the powder and earth on his forehead, and what Farmer had done vanished, on the ground and on Tunstall.

“There,” Farmer said, rinsing his hands with water from his flask. “It will be as if they hadn’t clipped that lock from your head. That hair will never keep its tie to you again.”

“It’s that easy?” Tunstall asked, frowning. “I’ve seen such things done before. They take hours. How do I know you’re not working a nimmer here?”

“Working a what?” Farmer asked.

“A swindle,” murmured Sabine. “Mattes, be reasonable. If Farmer leaves you open to tracking by these Rats, he leaves all of us open. I doubt Gershom would saddle us with a traitor.”

“Unless it’s Pounce,” I joked. Tunstall has the odd black mood. It’s always important to get him out of them in a hurry.

“Maybe I’m just better at this than those other mages,” Farmer said. “Now, be nice, or I’ll ask for my dirt and powder back.” Tunstall clapped his hand over the mark. We left it to Sabine to explain that it was already gone as Farmer mounted up and I settled Pounce on a packhorse.

Achoo led us steadily through the afternoon, her nose keeping us all on the Great Road North. We passed a number of turnoffs to towns, but Achoo kept on. The sun was touching the edge of the mountains to the west when we came upon a second wayhouse. We took supper there, but none of us wanted to remain if we could wring a little more from the day. We were burning with the awareness that the slaves and the mages who guarded them were mayhap three and a half, even three days ahead, or would be by the time we made camp, we’d made such good speed.

Leaving the wayhouse, we took up the running order we’d had back at Arenaver. I followed Achoo on foot. This time Farmer asked for my stone lamp. When he gave it back to me, it shone even brighter than a lantern. With that in my hand, I set out running just behind Achoo, as Farmer rode just behind me. Tunstall and Lady Sabine kept up for a short time, but the need to rest her big horses made them slow down and fall back, out of view. By then we were the only ones on the road, most folk preferring to retire into the protection of wayhouse walls than travel after dark.

The moon, near full, was rising when we reached a bridge over a small river. We halted while Achoo trotted down the bank to drink. There she stopped, whining. I could smell rot from the road, as could Farmer, from the way he covered his nose with his hands. Holding up my stone lamp, I approached the water. “Achoo,
kemari
,” I called. She was happy to run to me, where she hid behind my legs, quivering.

Here again was the work of the mage I called Viper. Dead skunks, deer, rabbits, squirrels, and other game lined both banks of the river. Dead birds lay among them and dead fish floated atop the water. Even the reeds were dead. I cursed her silently to a doom far beyond the Peaceful Realms, begging the Black God to let her shade wander without rest and forgiveness forevermore. I’d never heard of the god denying his kingdom to any, but I thought if he started with the Viper, he would not be wrong in so doing.

“I’m surprised to see no dead humans,” Farmer murmured. He had dismounted and followed me.

I watched the fast-moving water. “Doubtless they’ve been swept downstream,” I replied softly. “And it wasn’t so long since they left Queensgrace.”

Farmer’s mage-light rose from him and spread, revealing everything around us until it reached the trees. I looked at him. “If this isn’t the Viper’s work, then there are other vicious mages in this area, and they should die,” I told him.

“Viper?” Farmer asked.

“One of the two mages that ride in the cart,” I explained. “Linnet called her that. She’s the one who killed the slave mot and the two little ones.”

“Ah,” Farmer said. “She would be the one who spoke at their grave, then. The one who made the barrier that killed animals there. The poison in the river carries the same strain of power that was on the dead slaves and in some of the magic.” Farmer went up to the road and led the horses to our side, tethering them away from the river. I remembered Achoo’s original errand and poured water from my flask into one cupped hand for her to drink. I continued to fill my hand this way until she was done. Finished, she joined Farmer’s horses.

I remained where I was, tense as I watched Farmer walk down to the small river. I knew better than to pelt him with questions when he was in this thoughtful mood. He would speak when he was ready.

I walked up to the road and waved my stone lamp over my head three times. In the growing dark to the south I saw an answering spot of light swing three times. I glanced back at Farmer, who had not moved.

Tunstall, Sabine, and the other horses arrived at the trot. “Pounce says you’ve found trouble,” said Tunstall. Pounce sat in front of Sabine again, looking very pleased with his place. Tunstall looked over my shoulder, seeing Farmer at the water’s edge, surrounded by his globe of soft light.

I reported what Achoo and I had found. Then I tried to put my stone lamp in my pocket. I’d clutched it so tight in my telling that my fingers had cramped shut around it.

Tunstall spat. “We’ll leave word for the local constable—there’s a town a mile off, according to the sign a little way back. We can still get in another ten miles—”

“Mattes,” Sabine interrupted. “We can’t do that. We’ll lose time if you go for help in the dark. And if Farmer can mend the river, we’ll save lives.”

“Let the local hedgewitch see to it,” Tunstall replied. “We can make more headway tonight.”

“I doubt if any local mage can manage the work,” Farmer called. “This creature—let’s call her Viper, as Cooper does—this Viper likes spells within spells. There’s a spell in this poisoning that will kill any mage who tries to fix it with the usual magics. There is a spell tucked in a level down that, if ignored, will recast the original poisoning spell at the dark of the next moon. And there is the basic viciousness of placing it in a river, which carries it far beyond the original setting point. Every moment we talk, more life dies.”

“
Can
you fix it?” Sabine asked.

He took too long to reply for my comfort. At last he said, “Yes. Yes, I can, I will, and I must. By the time another mage of sufficient skill got here, it’s possible this poison would reach all the way to the Olorun.” He cocked his head at Tunstall. “Don’t you think the realm has enough problems without letting this one grow?”

Tunstall said sommat in Hurdik under his breath. “We’d best find a place to camp, then. Do you require help?”

Farmer turned to look at the water. Then he strode up the bank to the horse who carried his extra packs. “Cooper, if she doesn’t mind.”

“Beka’s been running all afternoon,” Sabine protested, but I put up my hand.

“I’ll be fine,” I said. “Will you look after Achoo?”

“Of course,” Tunstall replied. “We’ll set up watch on the road in case anyone is looking for us. Achoo,
tumit
.”

Achoo looked at me. “It’s all right, Achoo,” I said. “Go with Tunstall.”

She went, her tail a-wag, the hussy. She knew she could get more meat out of Tunstall than she could me.

“Pounce?” I asked as Tunstall and Sabine prepared to turn their mounts.

I prefer to stay at the camp
, the cat said.
What Farmer plans to do … it is not painful to me, exactly, but in close proximity to it, I will itch. I prefer not to itch
.

“If I could spare Beka, I would,” Farmer said, trudging down to the river with his extra pack over his shoulder. “It is sad that human magic and that of the gods do not mix.”

I am
not
a god
, I heard Pounce say as Tunstall and Sabine rode off.

“He’s a constellation,” I murmured to myself. The night seemed to clamp down as the others left. I hurried to get inside the bowl of light cast by Farmer, but it was the first thing to go. Instead he took my stone lamp and tucked it into the crook of a tree. Then he made me take off my belt and boots, assuring me the poison had not entered the ground under our feet. Together we shook out a large cloth that was in the big pack. Laid out on the riverbank, it showed a glittering circle made in golden embroidery, with written signs for Mithros at the east, the Goddess at the south, Gainel in the west, and the Black God in the north. At its heart was the circle of two halves, Father Universe and Mother Flame.

I gasped when I saw the whole of it. “Your stitchery?” I asked Farmer. He bowed to me with a grin.

Then he opened his shoulder pack. He set three jars, a vial, and four boxes on the ground, then set the pack aside. Next he unwound a roll of ribbon of an ugly shade of green embroidered in white and a second roll of cream-colored ribbon embroidered in pale blue.

I’d barely had a chance to inspect the embroideries when he asked, “Beka, will you get some things from the big pack for me?” I took the bag he’d mentioned from one of the horses and awaited his orders. “I’ll need my mortar and pestle,” he began. “They’re in a pocket by your right hand.” I retrieved them and started to rise, but Farmer said, “No, wait, please. In the flat outer pouch next to that one, you’ll find a map of Tortall in an oiled leather envelope, along with some other envelopes. They’re all maps. I just need Tortall.”

I couldn’t miss the Tortallan map. It flashed silver. I drew it a little ways from the envelope and saw that it was very differently marked from mine. “May I look at this, when there’s a moment?” I asked.

“Of course,” he said. The flash on the map faded, which made me think he’d gotten it to do so in order for me to find it. “Next, in the pack main, you’ll find a fat cloth wallet about as long as my hand. I need that.”

I found the wallet, which glowed silver, as the map had done. The glow vanished when I picked the wallet up. “I have it,” I said.

“Under it is a leather-sheathed box. It’s my sewing kit. I’ll have that, and next to the sewing kit is my everyday mirror in a pouch. I want the pouch only, not the mirror. Leave the mirror where you can see it when we pack everything up. Last item, Beka. There’s a pouch full of nuts right under the kit and the mirror. I’ll take those.”

I stacked everything in my hold and carried it all to Farmer. Piece by piece he lifted everything from me, placing it all inside the circle on the cloth. The bag of nuts he kept in his hands, taking out ten or so. He returned the bag to me. From its weight, it was yet half full.

“Will you keep that near you?” he asked. “I may need it again.”

I agreed, but I don’t believe he was listening. Holding the nuts in his cupped hands, he whispered to them, then rubbed his hands together. The nuts did not fall out of his grip as I expected. Instead, Farmer produced a thin piece of something that looked like rolled dough or paste, which he ate. He stepped onto the cloth and lowered his irreverent arse on the linked symbols for the Father and Mother of the gods.

I looked near the river, where he had left his jars and vials. Had he forgotten them? From what I knew of magic, he would do his great working from within the circle he’d made—or she, if it was my friend Kora. If I had to pass anything to him over the circle, I would break the working as easily as if I had stepped on the powder circle Farmer had made in the garden that morning.

He saw me look. “I don’t need those for this part,” he said, startling me. “This is the part where I reclaim magic from some of my hiding places so I have enough to do all that needs to be done.”

“The magic you’ve—um—drawn from other people, right?” I asked.

“Some is my own,” he replied absently. “Whenever I think it safe, I put away some of my Gift. It grows back.”

“It grows
back
?” I asked, plumb bum-clappered at the idea.

“Of course it does,” he said calmly. “Otherwise mages could only ever do a few spells and retire.”

Once I’d given it thought, I realized it
had
to be true. Still, it gave me goose bumps to think of the Gift growing like a vine inside someone.

“Nuts, too,” Farmer told me. “Wonderful storehouses for magic, nuts. Don’t let any wild creatures get them, Beka. They’ll have a considerable surprise if they do.”

He shook out his hair, worked the kinks from his neck with a number of startling popping sounds, then went absolutely still.

The great embroidered circle blazed with light, not slowly, but all at once. One moment Farmer sat on a cloth, the next he was covered by a dome of gold fire. I could not see a thing of what passed inside. Instead I turned outward, keeping my eyes on the road and my ears set for any noise that did not belong to the night. The rush of water beyond the mage was a cruel mockery, tempting any living thing to its death.

At last I heard, “Well, that’s better.” When I turned around, Farmer was rubbing his eyes. The cloth wallet was open for one fold. It showed embroidered ribbons secured to the fabric. Except for all the threadwork, Farmer looked like a big-built man who most likely spent his days behind the plow or mayhap with herds.

I went to help him fold the cloth. “If you’ll put all of these things back?” he asked me with boyish hope in his eyes. Did he expect me to scold him for leaving the fetching, carrying, and packing to me? I waved my hand for him to get to his work and slung the folded cloth over my shoulder. My skin prickled where it touched my neck. I gathered up everything else as he stepped down to the edge of the water.

His voice came from the air by my ear. “You see, the problem’s twofold,” he explained as if we were talking over supper. “The river must be cleansed, and I want to confine that sarden Viper.” He went silent. I looked to be sure he was all right. He was raising his arms.