The King's Assassin (Thief Takers Apprentice 3) (12 page)

‘With us?’ Talon cocked his head. ‘Or with you?’

‘I don’t know.’ Berren looked away. ‘Does it matter? Master Sy’s somewhere not far from here, isn’t he?’

Talon twitched. ‘Never you mind about him. First passage to Brons, you’re on it.’ He frowned. ‘Not that you’ll get a ship from here. Maybe from Forgenver, but the sooner the better. Anyway . . .’ He yawned and stretched and then waved cheerily down at the three watchers below. ‘If this is all you need then we can get on and get out of here. Are you sure this will work?’

‘Not really.’ The memory of Kuy making the potion remained clear as crystal. Whatever the warlock had done, he could repeat it. How it worked and what it actually did, of that he had no idea.

‘Tarn’s dying.’ Talon swung himself over the edge of the palisade and slid down the ladder to the ground. ‘He’s dying and he’s my friend.
Make
it work.’

Berren followed him to the hanging shed. He set about getting ready while Talon shooed everyone else away until only the three of them remained: Berren, Talon and Tarn. Berren laid out the other ingredients the warlock had used. There was already a little fire going and a pot of steaming water hung above it. ‘What if this kills him?’

‘Then he’ll die. But he’ll also die if you do nothing.’

Berren began grinding the salt and the powdered bone together and then mixing them in the boiling water with other powders and oils. He didn’t even have to think about it, as though the warlock’s recipe was in control and he was as much a tool of it as the pot or the pestle or the mortar. Time slipped by without him noticing.

‘I need a little of his blood,’ he said absently.

Talon frowned. ‘Blood?’

‘It is a warlock’s potion, not a healer’s.’

Talon’s frown deepened, but he took a knife to fleshy part of Tarn’s left hand and made a cut and held a cup to the wound. ‘How much?’

‘A thimble will do.’ Berren stirred the pot. Once it was bubbling again, he reached into his pocket and pulled out Talon’s phial. Poison. If anything was going to kill Tarn then it was this. He hesitated.
Sure? Am I really sure?

A shadow loomed behind him. When he looked up, Gelisya looked back at him. Her black hair merged into the darkness of the hanging shed while the light of the fire on her face made her eyes seem enormous. The sight of her froze him stiff and the recipe fled from his mind.

‘Two drops,’ she said, after they’d stared at each other for what felt like an age. ‘You need two drops. As soon as it boils.’ She nodded earnestly and then added: ‘It’s boiling now.’

Berren shook himself, tipped in two drops of the poison and quickly put it away.

‘Take it off the fire,’ she said. ‘Let it cool for a minute. It’s nearly done now. It’s very good for a first time.’

And how would you know that?
But now there was another distraction: two soldiers at the door, men in shiny silver breastplates and long skirts made of leather strips covered in a deep green lacquer. They were the same soldiers he’d seen in Deephaven on Radek’s ship, and between them stood a silhouette in gleaming white. A woman, slender and slight. He couldn’t stop looking. In another world she could have been Tasahre.

‘You need to put the blood in now,’ said Gelisya in a matter-of-fact voice. Berren nodded, struck dumb, took the cup from Talon and did as he was told. She was right, he knew that. How old was she? He tried to look at her and found he couldn’t meet her eyes.

‘What’s he done to you?’ he whispered, as much to himself as to Gelisya.

‘He showed me the hole in the world,’ she whispered back. She stepped closer and touched Berren’s face and then jumped away as if he’d stung her. ‘Oh! It’s you!’ Her eyes went wide. ‘What are you doing here? I thought you were inside! How did you get here?’ Her bottom lip began to quiver as though she was about to burst into tears. Then a blankness passed across her face and her voice changed, went back to flat and toneless. ‘You need to let it cool down. It goes into more of a paste when it’s ready. You fill his mouth and his nose with it so he can’t breathe. You bring him to the brink of death, you see, to drive the bad spirit out. You have to stay with him. You’ll see it when it comes. Then you have to take the paste all out again so he can breathe. You have to do that quickly – and give him lots of water! He’ll probably be sick a lot for a while and then he’ll be better.’

‘What do you mean “It’s you”?’ he asked. ‘Who?’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t realise. For a moment I didn’t know who you were but now I do. You’re Berren. You took me away from the bad wizard. I have to go now.’ She skipped away towards the door. Berren made to go after her but he was too slow and the soldiers barred his way while Gelisya slipped between them.
Took me away
. Not
rescued
, but
took me away
.

‘Come back!’ he called.

The woman in white pushed between the soldiers. She was robed and veiled and she slapped him in the face. The soldiers stepped away and Berren heard a sharp intake of breath from one of them. He stood there, mute and confused. The woman slapped him again. ‘You bastard,’ she hissed. ‘What do you creatures want with her? She’s just a girl! You make me sick, both of you!’ Berren caught a flashing glimpse of her eyes beneath her veil and the venom glittering within them, and then she turned and walked quickly away.

14

THE LASH AND THE ELIXIR OF LIFE

‘H
ey!’ Berren stepped forward but the soldiers stood in his way until she was gone. Behind him, Talon let out a long and exasperated sigh.

‘Now I have to find Meridian, except since he and everyone else who matters are off hunting somewhere, I suppose it’ll have to be my retard half-brother.’

‘What?’

Talon came to stand beside him. ‘You’re not from these parts. I keep forgetting. But you can’t stand for that. Even if you wanted to, you can’t.’ He shook his head. ‘Not from a bondswoman.’

‘What do you mean? What’s a bondswoman?’

Now Talon looked at him in wonder. ‘How long were you in Kalda? The ones in white, they’re all bonded men or women. Do you not have slaves in Deephaven?’

‘No.’

‘Well the sun-king doesn’t hold with them either, but this far from Caladir no one much cares. In Kalda the likes of Meridian call them bondsmen and bondswomen, but slaves is what they are. People who have been bought. Who are owned and traded and sold as if they were property. The children and family of debtors mostly. Although of course the merchants of Kalda have acquired some very inventive definitions of debt when it comes to the Taiytakei. The city sells its unwanted to the slavers, the Taiytakei train them and return them. In Kalda the guilds lend money to rich men to buy their “freedom.” Then the loans are called in, the debt is passed on to the man who is now “free” and of course cannot be paid, and in the blink of an eye and the flash of a writ, a freed slaves become bondsmen. It’s the same thing but with a different name.’ Talon snorted. ‘Aimes.
That
will be interesting. Excuse me, but as head of the visiting party I must now find our hosts and inform them that their property has offended one of my household.’ He sighed, irritated. ‘Since you’re not a bondsman yourself, the proper response would be to allow you to punish her by whatever means you see fit. What on earth did you say?’

Berren shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’ He was still trying to remember what Gelisya had said about the potion.

‘Ah well.’ Talon snapped his fingers and muttered something. ‘The usual punishment is a flogging. If you wanted to you could ask to have her executed but I’d rather you didn’t. I don’t wish to offend King Meridian by killing a favoured bondswoman, if that’s what she is.’ He shook his head. ‘Stupid woman. She can’t possibly have thought she’d be allowed to get away with something like that. Someone put her up to this to test us.’ He turned and let out a heavy sigh. ‘You’ll have to wield the lash yourself. Ever flogged anyone before? I don’t suppose you have.’

‘No! And I don’t want to.’ Berren shook his head. ‘I’ve seen enough of that. I don’t even know who she was.’ He went back into the gloom of the shed and looked at the potion in the pot. It was thickening nicely. Talon clapped him on the shoulder but his voice stayed hard.

‘Whoever she is, it has to be done. No one will despise you if you choose to go easy on her, but she is Meridian’s property and she has struck a guest, a Fighting Hawk, and what you do now reflects on me. If you make yourself look weak or cruel or stupid, you make us all look that way. You will put her to the lash because that is the law, but no need to be harsh. Ten strokes will do and you may be soft with your hand, although not
too
soft. I’m sure after two years at sea you know how.’ Talon looked away, glancing down at the congealing mess in the pot on the floor. ‘Is that ready yet?’

Berren shrugged. ‘It has to cool. Not long.’

‘But soon, yes?’

‘Yes.’

Talon looked pleased. ‘We can leave tonight then.’ He glanced at Tarn. ‘Do you need any more help with him?’

‘No. At least I don’t think so.’

‘Then I’ll see you’re left undisturbed until you’re needed.’ He walked out into the sunshine leaving Berren alone in the shadows and the gloom. Berren sat next to Tarn while the potion cooled. Why? Why did he have to whip someone if he didn’t want to? He could hardly blame anyone for hating what he was doing. It was magic, dark magic. Warlock magic. Magic that wasn’t meant to be used.

The potion cooled into a paste as Gelisya had said it would. Without thinking much about what he was doing, Berren prised Tarn’s mouth open and forced in as much as would go. What was left he pressed into Tarn’s nose.
I’m probably killing him
, he thought, but he did it anyway. When he was done, he watched and waited. Ten seconds passed, then twenty. Tarn twitched. Thirty seconds. Suddenly Tarn arched. Convulsions shook his body. A thin black mist began to form around his face.

‘I can see it! He’s almost ready,’ said a voice behind him, quiet yet ripe with excitement. Gelisya again, and maybe that meant the soldiers and the slave woman too, but Berren didn’t dare look around. He watched as Tarn bucked and spasmed and then went still.

‘I wanted to see,’ said Gelisya. ‘I’ve never seen it work before.’

Berren hardly heard her. Tarn wasn’t moving now, and all he could think was that he’d killed his friend. He forced open Tarn’s mouth and frantically clawed at the paste, flinging it out again.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Gelisya. ‘I didn’t realise it was you. But I went inside, and you
are
there, and you’re here as well. How do you do that?’

‘I don’t have the first idea what you mean.’

She giggled. ‘Silly! How can you be in two places at once?’

Berren growled at her but she didn’t go away; instead she passed a jug of water.

‘I like my maid,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry she hit you. I’ll tell her not to. I’ll tell her I’m cross.’

‘I’m sorry too. Apparently I’m going to have to hurt her. And then I dare say we won’t ever meet again.’ He poured water between Tarn’s lips. Tarn jerked, then coughed and spluttered. Alive, thank the four gods!

‘You will.’ Gelisya’s voice sounded solemn. ‘And I
am
sorry. But I know how to make it better.’

‘Don’t bother.’

‘But you’ll like her. And she’ll like you. It’s
important
. We’re supposed to be
friends
.’

‘You’re just a child!’ He said it as much for himself as for her. ‘I don’t even know who she is. I’ve never seen her before. I don’t know anything about her and I don’t know anything about
you
.’ He had to stop, because as he spoke Tasahre flashed into his mind again. The slave, the shape of her, she reminded him of the sword-monk, which only made it all even worse. ‘She slapped me, that’s all. I hardly felt it, and for what I’m doing here,
I
might have slapped me too. She doesn’t deserve to be punished. So don’t.’

Gelisya didn’t say anything. She twirled in circles on the spot behind him as Berren sat Tarn up and gave him a shake and slapped him on the back. ‘He’d take you with us,’ she said. ‘I know he would if I asked him.’

‘What? Who?’

‘Saffran.’ She leaned forward and whispered in his ear. ‘I know you’re going to keep the teaching stone, aren’t you? I suppose I don’t mind. But you have to keep it safe. You have to promise. He’s my friend in there.’

Berren clenched his fists, Maybe if he wished hard enough, she’d read his mind and go away.

‘It fills the hole, you see. Like the Black Moon and the Dead Goddess fill the hole in the world. He showed it to me. You have to keep it closed otherwise something will come through. Not yet, but one day. Before you both come back for the very last time. You have to keep it closed.’ Even with her lips almost touching his ear, her whisper was so quiet that he could barely hear her. ‘He’s making us ready. To let it in when the Ice Witch brings the Black Moon down.’

Enough!
Berren spun around, but before he could throw Gelisya out of the shed Tarn’s eyes flew open. He sat bolt upright, was violently sick, then started thrashing about and screaming. Berren tried to hold him still but Tarn was a big man and strong with it, and Berren was neither. He swatted at Berren, trying to push him aside, eyes staring away into the distance.

‘Petarl? Petarl!’ Whatever he was seeing it wasn’t Berren.

‘I’ll get some of father’s soldiers,’ said Gelisya in a sing-song voice. She danced out. Tarn finally cuffed Berren aside and staggered to his feet.

‘Tarn! It’s me! It’s Berren!’

Tarn stared at him. ‘Petarl? Have the Swords of the Sun struck camp yet? And where’s the bear? I haven’t seen him!’

Berren tried to sit him down but Tarn was having none of it. He scrabbled around for his sword, was sick for a second time and then went back to shouting and screaming. Other Hawks ran into the shed, eyes wide with surprise. It took three of them to wrestle Tarn down, but when he finally grew calm and the first glimmers of recognition flickered in his eyes, it was Berren he clung to. The others slowly backed away, drawing signs of protection in the air around them. The looks they gave Berren were a strange mix – fear and admiration, loathing and respect – but Berren ignored them all, holding’s Tarn’s face in his hands, talking about their days together under Sword-Master Silvestre; and as he did, Tarn seemed to come back, piece by piece from wherever he’d been. It was slow: one moment he was lucid, the next he had no idea who Berren was or where they were or why. He kept asking about Petarl and the bear and the Swords of the Sun, whoever they were.