Prophecy, Child of Earth (8 page)

Ashe took a bite of the bread. "Interesting. Manipulative, but very interesting."

The nutty flavor melded perfectly with the cheese, making both items seem far more substantial than they would have been separately.

Rhapsody looked at him in surprise. "Manipulative? I don't understand." He said nothing. "Can you explain your meaning?" Ashe took another bite. "Is the tea ready?"

Rhapsody rose and went to the fire. Tea was best made from the offerings of summer: strawberry leaves and rose hips, sweet fern and red sumac berries. The herbs she had located were not the best blend, plantain and slippery elm, dandelion roots and yarrow, but they were mild and had only passive, healthy properties. She poured a cup of the steaming liquid and passed it to him, her brow still furrowed, waiting for an explanation.

One was not forthcoming. The cloaked figure raised the cup inside his hood and took a sip. Rhapsody jumped as he spat the tea out violently, spraying some into the fire.

'Bleah. What is this?" His tone was rude, and Rhapsody could feel her blood start to steam.

'Well, now it's herbal vapor, but prior to your mature response it was tea."

'A new and interesting definition for it, I'd say."

Rhapsody's ire was rising. "Well, I'm sorry you don't like it, but it was the best grouping of herbs I could find. All the properties are healthy ones."

'If their taste doesn't kill you first."

'Well, next time I'll be sure to find licorice just for you. I didn't realize until now what serious need you were in of a laxative."

She thought she heard a chuckle as the hidden man rose and went to his own pack. He rummaged for a moment; finally he located what he was looking for.

'You could make some of this." He tossed her a small canvas sack tied with a rawhide cord.

Rhapsody opened the bag and held it to her nose, inhaling its aroma. She recoiled instantly in disgust.

'Gods, what is this?" She held the sack away from her face.

'Coffee. A special blend from Sepulvarta."

'Ugh. It's repulsive."

Ashe laughed. "You know, you're being very close-minded. You should at least try it before you declare it repulsive."

'No, thank you. It smells like dirt from a skunk's grave."

'Well, be that as it may, I like it, certainly much more than your odious tea."

Rhapsody's face fell, and he hastened to mitigate the damage. "Though I'm sure tea you make when you are not in the forest and dependent on the availability of certain plants—"

'Spare me," she said coldly. "You are entitled to dislike my tea. No one said it was delicious, just healthy. And if you wish to poison yourself by drinking that bile, please don't let me stop you. But you can make it yourself; I have no desire to inhale the fumes. In fact, I think I'll make a new campsite elsewhere until you're done." She rose from the fire and walked away into the woods, leaving most of her supper untouched.

J,'yords
between them that evening were few. Rhapsody returned after sunset, having sung her vespers, and settled down for the night in her corner of the camp.

Ashe was repairing one of his boots when she walked into the fire circle, and watched her pass by the flames with interest. He had noticed the effect her presence had on fire, and the way it reflected her mood. It was snapping and hissing now with unspoken anger. She obviously had not gotten over the offense he had committed, probably because he had not apologized.

He decided to do so now. "I'm sorry about earlier," he said, turning the boot over without looking up in her direction.

'Put it from your mind."

'All right," he said, pulling the boot back on, "I will. I wish more women let me off that easily."

Rhapsody rolled up her cloak and stuffed it under her head to serve as a pillow.

The ground was broken here with tree roots and buried stones, making for uncomfortable sleeping. "Nonsense," she said. "I'm sure your mother let you get away with murder."

Ashe laughed. "Gained," he said; it was the sword-trainer's term indicating a point had been scored and acknowledged. "I assume my apology was accepted, then?"

'Don't become accustomed to it," Rhapsody mumbled from inside her bedroll, a hint of humor returning to her voice. "I rarely forgive spitting. Customarily I'd cut your heart out, although it's fairly obvious someone already has." She closed her eyes and prepared to go to sleep.

A split-second later she heard a humming next to her upturned ear; even behind her eyelids she could see a blue-white light fill the darkness. The sharp metal point of a sword jabbed her throat just below her chin. She opened her eyes.

Ashe stood above her. Even in the dark, his silhouette showed the signs of unbridled rage. With a vicious twist of the wrist he pressed the sword tip deeper into her neck, just before the point of breaking the skin. Within his hood two points of intense light gleamed furiously.

'Get up," he said, kicking her boot savagely.

Rhapsody rose, following the lead of the sword. It pulsated with a blue light, a light she had seen out of the corner of her eye in battle, but never up close before.

It was a bastard sword, a weapon of broader blade and hilt and greater length than her own. The sword was scrolled in gleaming blue runes that decorated both the hilt and blade, but these patterns were not the most hypnotic aspect of it.

The blade itself appeared to be liquid. It hovered in the air, rippling repeatedly toward the hilt like waves in the sea crashing to the shore. The watery weapon emitted a vaporous mist that rose, like steam from the fires of the Underworld, forming a column of fog before her, a moving tunnel at the end of which was a stranger with murder in his eyes. She knew this without seeing those eyes clearly.

He would never have made a weapon of this power known to her unless he expected her sight of it to be momentary.

A deadly calm descended on Rhapsody. She stared into the vaporous tunnel in the direction of the cloaked man at the other end. He was silent, but his anger was palpable, she could feel it around her in the air.

When he didn't speak after another endless moment, she decided to do so.

'Why did I have to get up? Are you too much of a gentleman to kill me in my sleep?"

Ashe said nothing, but pressed the blade even deeper. The world blackened for a moment before her eyes as the blood to her head was stanched. She summoned all the remaining strength she had and glared in his direction.

'Remove your sword immediately, or get on with it and kill me," she ordered coldly. "You're interrupting my sleep."

'Who are you?" Ashe's voice was thick with murderous intent.

Rhapsody's mind leapt at the words; she had heard them before, uttered by another cloaked stranger. Her introduction to Achmed had been much the same.

The tone in his voice had been similarly murderous as he rifled through her pack, while Grunthor held her stationary in the shadows of the first of many campfires they had shared.

Who are you?

Hey, put that down.

Oi wouldn't do that if Oi were you, miss. Just answer the question.

I already told you; my name is Rhapsody. Now put that down before you break
something.

,'
never break anything unless I mean to. Now, try again. Who are you
?

She sighed inwardly. "I seemed destined to repeat this conversation for all of eternity to men who want to harm me. My name is Rhapsody. You know this already, Ashe."

'I know nothing about you, apparently," he said in a low, deadly voice. "Who sent you? Who is your master?"

The last word stung, bringing back a brisk explosion of memories forged in the agony of the streets, of degradation and forced prostitution. Rhapsody's eyes narrowed to gleaming green slits. "How dare you. I have no master. What are you insinuating?"

'That you're a liar, at best. At worst you are evil incarnate, and about to die for the suffering and woe you have inflicted throughout Time."

'Whoa! What woe?" Rhapsody asked incredulously. "And don't you call me a liar, you cowardly ass. You're the liar; you told my friends I'd be safe with you. If you were looking to kill me, I would have fought you in the venue of your choice.

You didn't need to lure me out here to the woods so you could do it with impunity, you craven piece of Bolg-dung."

Ashe stood up a little straighter; the sword did not move. It was as if his anger had tempered a little. Rhapsody was not sure how she knew this, but she was certain of it.

'Confess who sent you and I will spare your life," he said, a slightly more reasonable tone in his voice. "Tell me who the host is, and I'll let you go."

'I have no idea what you are blithering about," she retorted angrily. "No one sent me."

Ashe gave her throat another savage jab. "Don't lie to me! Who sent you? You have ten seconds to come up with the name if you want to live."

Rhapsody thought for a moment, knowing he was utterly serious. It would be simple to make up a name in the hope that he would leave her to find whatever host he was babbling about. Living wasn't worth the lie. Time slowed around her, and she thought of the family with which she was about to be reunited.

'Save yourself the time," she said. "I don't know what you're talking about, and I won't lie just to live." She raised her throat to an easier angle of attack to facilitate his strike. "Go ahead."

Ashe remained frozen for a moment, then pulled the sword away from her neck with a sweep that spattered drops of water over her face and into the fire, where it hissed angrily. He continued to look at her from beneath the misty hood.

After a few moments of returning his stare, Rhapsody spoke. "I don't know what's gotten into you. Maybe your brain has been curdled by that skunk urine you call coffee." She took a deep breath and used her true-speaking lore as a Namer.

"In any case, your behavior is inexcusable. I am not a liar, nor am I evil incarnate. I don't know why you're angry at me, but I have no master, I am no one's whore, and I don't know anything about a host. Now get away from me. I'll find the dragon without you."

Ashe considered her words. "What was that comment about my heart supposed to mean?"

Customarily I'd cut your heart out, although it's fairly obvious someone already
has.

Rhapsody looked puzzled; it had been a joke. "That you're heartless, rude.

Willing to insult the dinner I made you, to spit my tea out, to be unduly offensive. You're an insufferable pig. You have no respect for anyone. You can't take a joke, but you expect others to. You're cranky. Shall I go on? When I said it I was teasing. I no longer am."

Ashe's shoulders uncoiled, and Rhapsody heard a deep exhalation of breath from within the hood. They stared at each other for a few moments more. Then the cloaked figure lowered its head.

'I'm very sorry," he said softly. "Your assessment of me, in all its parts, is correct."

'You'll get no argument from me," Rhapsody said, her heartbeat slowing slightly. "Now, back away. If you still want to fight, I'd be happy to oblige.

Otherwise, be on your way."

Ashe sheathed his sword. The glen they were standing in became immediately darker in the absence of its light. The fire had been roaring in time with her anger; it had settled down somewhat as well, having expended much of its fuel in its fury.

'If you wanted me to leave, why didn't you just make up a name? I would have left you here, unharmed. You're lucky. You took an awful risk."

'What risk?" Rhapsody snapped. "You asked me a question. There was only one possible answer, and it did not consist of making up a name. What if I had and it belonged to some poor innocent whose only crime was being unfortunately tided?"

Ashe sighed. "You're right. These are bad times, Rhapsody. I know you deserve to hate me forever, but please don't. I thought you were someone you're not, and I beg your forgiveness. Many of my friends and countless other innocent people have died at the hands of something sinister that is causing these raids. For a moment I thought it was you."

'What a coincidence. Achmed thinks it's you."

Ashe's words were soft. "He's wiser than I thought."

Rhapsody blinked in spite of herself. There was a poignancy in his words she felt in the depths of her soul. "What do you mean by that?"

'Nothing," he said quickly, "nothing at all. This was a misunderstanding." A wry tone came into his voice. "Possibly brought on by that skunk urine, as you so charmingly have named it."

Rhapsody sat back down by the fire. "You know, Ashe, most people have misunderstandings on a slightly different scale. They argue, they call each other names. My neighbor once threw a plate at her husband. They don't usually draw weapons on each other. Generally I don't think what just happened qualifies as a misunderstanding."

'I'm very sorry," he said. "Please tell me what I can do to make it up to you. I swear it won't happen again. I know you may not believe this, but it was an overreaction to what is happening across the land. War is coming, Rhapsody; I can feel it. And it makes me suspect everyone, even those without any hand in it, like you."

She could hear the truth in his voice. Rhapsody sighed and considered her options. She could drive him off, refusing to spend another moment in his presence, which would leave her alone and lost in the woods. She could agree to go on with him but remain wary, setting up precautions to avoid further mishap. Or she could take him at his word.

She was too tired to do anything other than the last. "All right," she said finally.

"I guess I can get past this, as long as you promise not to draw on me ever again.

Swear it, and we'll forget this happened."

'I do," he said. There was amazement in his voice, and something else that she couldn't put her finger on.

'And throw away that coffee. It addles your brain."

In spite of the grimness of the situation, Ashe laughed. He reached into his pack and drew forth the sack.

'Not into the fire," she said hastily. "We'll have to evacuate the woods. Bury it in the morning with the waste."