Soul's Reckoning (Broken Well Trilogy) (10 page)

You don’t know?
said Losara.

I would try, for my family, to be strong, but .
 
.
 
.

There came an incoherent commotion, as Tentoy tried to know for himself what he would do in such a circumstance. For Losara his uncertainty was enough of an answer in itself, and he decided to let the soldier have his rest.

What to do.

Tentoy was just one of many. Losara spread out, not as shadow but mentally. Here on the plane of thought, he could sense thousands of minds around him like a great, low chattering. He could speak to them all at once, if he wished, and for a moment he was tempted to do so .
 
.
 
. but he still had no way to bind his secret to them.

Bind my secret to them
, he thought.

Weavers knew how to do such a thing.

Perhaps the dream
had
come for a reason.

He sought Roma, found him just stepping out of his own black tent next to Losara’s, and materialised.

Roma bowed his head. ‘Lord Shadowdreamer.’

‘Magus Supreme,’ acknowledged Losara. ‘I will be away this morning for a time. I leave you in charge.’

‘As you command.’

As Losara sped away towards Fenvarrow, he thought about how Roma had not asked him where he was going, or for how long, or why. Perhaps Losara should have more faith in his people’s loyalty, and their ability to take orders without reasons. But then again Roma was special, and not all were as strong, or as moulded, as he.

One day, Roma
, he thought,
I will build you that grand house in Afei Edres. Hopefully one day soon.

Then he was across the border, heading towards the Bentemoth Mountains. He did not tarry, and a blink later the ice-topped peaks in the distance were towering above him. He slipped around them, pooling to a stop at the edge of the Thin Soup.

Weaver
, he sent out, loud and clear in the psychic landscape.
I ask that you visit me.

If the creature was close enough to have heard him, it did not appear. He moved on, trying to discover the place he had seen in the dream. The flat mud and trees were blandly uniform, and it began to seem something of a hopeless exercise.

Weaver
, he tried from a new place.
The Shadowdreamer seeks your counsel. Please attend.

Losara sat down to watch the mire. It was a bleak place, and he wondered why any creature with choice would make its home here.

‘The bugs,’ tweeted a voice.

There was a fluttering of wings, and a small bird flew out of the trees to land on the ground before him. Its feathers were blue and purple, with a breast of silver. Like all weavers, it was a colourful and striking creature indeed.

‘Sorry?’ said Losara.

‘The bugs are good,’ remarked the bird. ‘Plenty of fat ones in the mud, and plenty in the trees. Dragonflies too, though you can’t eat them all the time. Too bitter.’ She gave a chirp of amusement. ‘Well, you asked.’

‘I suppose I did.’

‘There’s a couple of us here, actually,’ said the bird. ‘Though the other doesn’t want to talk to you. Grouchy fellow, right from the start. So you’re the Shadowdreamer at the moment, are you?’

‘Yes. I’m called Losara.’

‘Eosene,’ said the weaver.

Losara stared at her in surprise. Eosene had been one of the three weavers who had sworn to serve Kryzante, the first Shadowdreamer. They had done so in exchange for the souls of all their kind being converted to shadow, thus hiding them from their maker, Arkus – but that bargain had ended with Kryzante’s death.

‘Nice head of hair you have there,’ observed Eosene, cocking her head at him.

‘I thank you for heeding my call,’ said Losara. ‘I realise you did not have to.’

‘Well,’ said Eosene, ‘you fight Arkus, do you not? I have a vested interest in him suffering a tragic defeat.’

‘You are aware of the battle in the north?’

‘Certainly,’ said Eosene. ‘A little bird told me all about it.’

Losara gave a smile. ‘Perhaps you are not aware of the latest moments, however?’

‘True enough.’

Losara nodded. ‘I have a need,’ he said. ‘I wish to bind my soldiers to the keeping of a secret.’

Eosene gave a soft twitter. ‘I do like secrets.’

‘I wonder if you and I can strike a bargain, then,’ said Losara. ‘I will tell you my secret and, in exchange, you will never tell anyone else.’

‘Very well,’ said the bird. ‘A similar bargain to the one you would strike with your soldiers?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you wish to see it demonstrated?’

‘Yes.’

‘As you wish.’

She flew up onto his head. Losara sensed something happening, but it was hard to make out what – then she tapped her beak on his brow, and something clicked into place. She flew back to the ground.

‘The deal is struck,’ she said.

‘But I did not see how it was done.’

‘No, I expect not. It is harder to see when you are the target.’ She scratched at the ground with a claw. ‘Perhaps we need a third party, so you can view the whole thing from an outside perspective. There is a village not far from here, where no doubt we can find someone tending their pigs, and entreat them to help us. And now,’ her eyes glittered, ‘I cannot keep a secret if I don’t know what it is.’

Losara felt an urge take hold, beyond his control, and opened his mouth to spill forth words. ‘My soul is shared by Blade Bel, the blue-haired man on the side of the enemy. If one of us dies, so does the other.’

Eosene went very still.

Losara shivered – the feeling of possession left him, but a sense of violation remained in its wake. Too casual he had been about giving over control to this creature he did not know.
Stupid. Hasty.

‘That is very interesting,’ said Eosene.

‘You are bound to tell no one.’

‘That was our bargain, of course. Now,’ she fluttered up to land on his shoulder, ‘do you want to see how one is made?’

•

It was not far to the tiny village, built on flats slightly higher than the swamp. Pig sties hemmed in a few central buildings, loosely constructed of piled stones. Eosene directed Losara to the outskirts, from where they could see a middle-aged man with a limp tending to his pigs.

‘Bad foot,’ said Eosene. ‘That’s why he remains. Most of the others have answered your call to arms.’

Looking around, Losara saw no one else. It was hard to tell whether or not the houses were falling to disrepair, for they were so meagre to begin with. He felt a moment of guilt at being the reason these people had abandoned their lives.

‘I wouldn’t worry about that,’ said Eosene. ‘Their lives weren’t very exciting in the first place. They probably welcomed the chance to be away from them.’

Disturbed, Losara shored up his mind from the bird – he had to remember how adept weavers were at getting into people’s heads.

‘Besides,’ continued Eosene, ‘their pigs are being attended to. Reddle, there, he looks after the ones whose owners are gone, and as payment he’ll take any that no one returns to claim.’

‘Where are the children?’ said Losara.

‘Oh,’ said the bird, ‘they’re around .
 
.
 
. playing somewhere, no doubt – you know how children are. Now, shall we do what we came here for?’

Losara nodded slowly.

As they drew closer, the man called Reddle looked up, and blanched in disbelief at what he saw. Losara wondered if he should have cast an illusion to disguise himself, but then, why should he?

‘Reddle,’ chirped the bird in amusement, ‘meet the Shadowdreamer.’

Reddle fell to his knees in the filthy dirt. ‘Forgive me, lord,’ he grovelled. ‘It is my foot, or I would have answered your call! Had a break that did not heal well several seasons ago, and now I can barely put weight on it, you see, and –’

‘Silence,’ said Losara, and Reddle cringed. Perhaps he had spoken too harshly, when he had simply wanted to correct the man’s mistake. ‘I have not come to command you to fight,’ he continued more kindly, ‘but perhaps you can help me in another way.’

‘Anything, lord!’

The man was virtually floundering in the mud now, and it bothered Losara to see him prostrate.

‘Please rise,’ he said.

With some difficulty Reddle did so, leaning on one of his pigs.

‘Reddle,’ said Eosene, ‘the Shadowdreamer wishes to see me demonstrate my magic. But I cannot do so with this one, lord, as Reddle and I already have a bargain.’

‘Oh?’ said Losara.

‘A band of Mire Pixies set up in the Soup a while back,’ said Eosene. ‘They were stealing pigs. I was able to give them the impression, however, that there would be easier pickings elsewhere. Isn’t that right, Reddle?’

‘Yes,’ said Reddle quickly. ‘Yes, that’s right.’

‘And the favour you asked in return?’ said Losara.

‘Haven’t really needed anything yet,’ said Eosene. ‘The favour owing does not need to be specific.’

‘I see.’

‘At any rate,’ said the weaver, ‘I wonder if your dear wife is about, Reddle? Perhaps she would not mind helping the cause.’

At that Reddle looked deeply afraid, his eyes darting between Eosene and Losara. ‘You want my wife to make a bargain with the weaver, lord?’ he asked miserably.

Losara did not know what was making the man so unhappy. Most feared weavers, that was true, yet Eosene had already proved she was different by helping to rid the farmer of bandits. In fact she seemed to emanate trustworthiness so strongly that Losara felt sure she meant no harm to anyone. It must be Losara who terrified Reddle, he decided, something that was not uncommon.

‘Reddle,’ he said, ‘it’s only so I can learn how it’s done. It will be a great service to our people. And I am sure Eosene will not hold your wife to anything she objects to.’ He cast a glance at the bird on his shoulder.

‘Of course not, lord,’ said Eosene indignantly. ‘Why, I have already aided these people and not asked for anything in return. Come, Reddle, you know me – I will bring no harm to Clandra.’

Reddle stared at the bird a long moment, then bowed. ‘As you command, lord.’ He hobbled off around his hut.

‘What bargain will you make with her?’ said Losara as they waited.

‘Oh,’ said Eosene, ‘I don’t know – maybe to find me some bugs? Or maybe I won’t lay down my end for certain – who knows what needs the future may bring?’

Losara nodded. That seemed reasonable enough.

Reddle reappeared leading a weathered-looking woman with stringy hair and fear in her eyes. She faltered when she saw Losara, but Reddle took her by the arm.

‘This is my wife, Clandra, lord,’ he said.

‘Lord Shadowdreamer,’ quaked Clandra.

She was scared of him too, of course. Battu had a lot to answer for, if everyone thought the dreamer must be so terrible. Losara found himself growing quite angry that these people saw him this way. Bad enough to get it from the other side, but from his own as well .
 
.
 
.

‘Clandra,’ he said, his voice gentle, ‘I wish to see weaver magic demonstrated, and we need a subject. Will you allow Eosene here to strike a bargain with you?’

‘Wh .
 
.
 
. whatever you wish, lord,’ she whimpered.

‘All right,’ said Eosene. ‘Let’s keep this simple. Clandra, I will find you some prayer weed from the mire. In return, you can do a favour for me in the future.’

‘Yes,’ whispered Clandra.

‘Now observe, lord,’ said Eosene. ‘I shall do this slowly.’

A thin twine of thought issued out from the weaver. Losara concentrated hard, and thought he could sense something of its contents – a promise to find the prayer weed.

‘And now you hold the idea in your head, Clandra,’ continued Eosene, ‘that you will owe me a favour.’ A pause, and then, ‘There it is, lord, at the forefront of her mind. Now I just coax it out.’

Another thread, this time for Clandra, wound up into the air where the first was floating free. They wrapped around each other, until there was just one thread.

‘Now a part for each,’ said Eosene. She flew up and bit the intertwined thread in two. One disappeared into her head, and the other she took in her beak and guided down to Clandra. She gave the woman a tap on the brow, and the thread sank away into her. Clandra blinked.

‘It is done,’ said Eosene. ‘Did you see, my lord?’

‘I did,’ replied Losara. ‘But I am not sure I can do that.’

‘No?’ asked Eosene sweetly. ‘Could it be, perhaps, that the gifts given to weavers by Arkus himself are not as easily learned as cutting up bread or squatting to shit?’ She chirped cheerfully as she flew from Losara’s shoulder. ‘Reddle, as my favour I ask you to
kill the Shadowdreamer
!’

Reddle’s eyes flickered in fear, but he picked up a blunt rake that had been leaning against the sty fence. He lurched towards Losara, raising the weapon. Clandra grasped him with a cry and roughly he shook her off to shamble onwards, slow but driven, the rake ready to strike.

Losara frowned. Surely the bird did not think this cripple represented any real threat? He dissolved to shadow and re-formed on the flats some distance away. Reddle looked around, perplexed, spied Losara a moment later, and began shuffling towards him again. At his current pace, it would take him some minutes to arrive.

Lord? Where did you go? Ah.

The weaver flew out of the sky and landed on Losara’s shoulder.

‘What was the purpose of that?’ asked Losara, a vague irritation nudging at him.

‘Just something to think about,’ said Eosene. ‘The fact that someone keeps a secret does not stop them from acting upon it. Someone in your ranks could decide to kill you without uttering a single word about why.’

‘I take your point,’ said Losara gloomily. ‘But there was no need to illustrate it so. Will that man now wander forever trying to find me?’

‘Let us head back to him,’ said Eosene. ‘I will nullify what I asked him for.’

‘Anyway,’ said Losara, ‘if I cannot replicate weaver magic in the first place, there was no reason to learn such a lesson.’