The Smoke-Scented Girl (28 page)

“Where is that?” Kerensa asked.

“The back end of nowhere,” Piercy said.
“There isn’t even a city there.”

Evon pulled a silver coin out of his pocket
and knelt near the ink design. “The Despot is there,” he said, and
held the coin so its edge just touched the ink. “
Reperto
Fathlon,” he repeated, and a thin stream of ink ran up the coin and
pooled in the groove around its milled edge and along the contours
of some long-dead queen of Dalanine. Evon blew on it, and the ink
disappeared, but when he tilted the coin to catch the light, it
iridesced as if coated with a thin layer of oil. He tossed it at
Piercy. “Hold it in your hand and do a slow turn.”

Piercy raised his eyebrows at Evon, but
slowly rotated in place. When he was about three-quarters of the
way through his turn, he exclaimed, “It’s hot!”

“It works like the children’s game,” Evon
explained. “As you near the correct direction, it warms up. Cold,
and you’re facing the wrong way.”

“Wouldn’t it be cold anyway, since it’s
winter? Or hot from being kept in your pocket?” Kerensa said.

“That’s part of the magic. Its temperature is
always dependent on the spell.”

Piercy handed the coin to Kerensa, who
repeated his movements. She handed the coin to Evon and said, “Are
you certain it’s the Despot?”

“It’s only instinct, and your story,” Evon
said, “but what I
am
certain of is that this coin will lead
us to the spell’s actual target. Even if it isn’t the Despot. Which
I think it is.”

“You’re starting to babble,” Piercy pointed
out.

“I feel a little light-headed after that.”
Evon sat down on his bed. “Tomorrow I’ll have to convince the
magicians to let me work with them on separating the spell from
you, Kerensa. Once we figure that out, we can work out a way to
take the spell to the Despot and release it without killing anyone
but him.”

“Or I could walk up to him and let the spell
do its work,” Kerensa said.

Evon and Piercy looked at each other. “That
would not be wise,” Piercy said. “The spell...once it fulfils its
purpose, it no longer needs its carrier. You would die in
destroying the Despot, and you wouldn’t be reborn.”

“Oh,” said Kerensa. She blinked a few times,
and again said, “Oh.”

“So we have to find a way to release it from
you before that happens,” Evon said.

“I see,” said Kerensa. She took a few steps
and the map rolled up behind her. “How long have you known
this?”

“A few days,” Evon said. “We didn’t think you
needed to know, since there was nothing any of us could do about
it, and—”

“I understand,” Kerensa said. “You were
trying to protect me. I don’t really need that kind of protection.”
She didn’t sound angry, she sounded tired.

“I’m sorry,” Evon said.

“It doesn’t matter.” She raised her head and
glared at him. “Now,” she said in a more normal tone, “you’ve done
the locator spell and you are getting into bed and staying
there.”

“I agree,” said Piercy. He pulled the map
free of its weights and rolled it up. “I’m going to take this to
Mrs. Petelter. If it represents the Despot’s current position, she
should know about it, if only to communicate it to her superiors.
She may even thank me. Evon, get into bed like a good boy and I’ll
be back to check on you later.”

Evon sat down on his bed and began to take
his boots off. “No, let me do that,” Kerensa said. “You really did
frighten me. Did you know the spell would be that dangerous?”

“No, of course not,” he said, crawling under
the blankets fully dressed. Now that he was lying down, he realized
how terrible he felt. The bed was warm and soft and he felt himself
beginning to drowse off immediately. “I don’t know what happened. I
was in its presence...I think it noticed me. I hope it doesn’t know
how to follow me here.”

Kerensa sat on the bed. “Could it do
that?”

“Possibly. I don’t know. It doesn’t have a
physical presence...oh, no, I think I was inside its host’s head.
It was truly disgusting.” Evon took her hand, as much to give
himself comfort as to reassure her. “I think...it sounded as though
it had to direct the host to do things because it didn’t have the
physicality to do them itself. So I’m safe.”

Kerensa squeezed his hand. “Good. I was
terrified that your illness was far worse than it seemed.” She
stood and walked across the room to Piercy’s bed, sat down, and
crossed her legs. “Now go to sleep. I’m not leaving until you
do.”

“I can’t sleep if you’re watching me.” Evon
yawned until his jaw popped.

“I think you can. I also think you’re
stubborn enough that if I leave this room, you’ll get up and go
back to work on whatever the next step is.”

“You know me too well.” It occurred to Evon,
even in his sleep-fuddled state, that her knowing him that well
should make her inclined to fall in love with him. Then he thought
about all the qualities she knew about him, his stubbornness, his
failures, his obsession with work, and had a moment’s self-pity
that he was, from that perspective, fairly unlovable. He rolled
onto his side, facing away from her, and after a minute or two
essayed a faint snore. “Don’t even bother,” she said, and he
grinned. After a few more moments, he drifted off to sleep for
real.

Evon slept restlessly, woke after dark, slept
again. He hurt everywhere with a dull, throbbing ache he couldn’t
escape from no matter what position he slept in. Piercy was there
when he woke, with water and a cold damp rag to lay on his
forehead. He shivered under the blankets. Shivering hurt. He
couldn’t stop coughing, though when he woke the second time to full
daylight it had subsided to a mild, dry cough that barely hurt at
all. Piercy gave him more blankets and he huddled underneath the
mound they made and wondered if he would ever feel well again. He
had feverish dreams about riding his horse across a bare, charred
landscape that he knew was the result of the weapon being activated
to kill the Despot, only its destructive force had taken everything
with it. Kerensa was dead, and he cried for her and for himself.
Then his dreams turned darker, and he was trapped in that fleshy
red nightmare with the entity searching for him, to crush him with
its baleful attention, and he ran through the pillowy pink flesh
that kept sticking to his feet. The Despot rose up in front of him,
fifteen feet tall, but Alvor with his mace stepped between them and
swung at the Despot’s head. The stump of his missing finger shone
bright gold, though Evon couldn’t see why. Shadowy figures joined
Alvor, who shouted “Run!” at him, and he stumbled away into another
nightmare about the Witch of Marhalindor, though he knew nothing
about her except that she was insane, and now he was looking for
Kerensa to tell him a story about the Witch, and he remembered she
was dead, and he wept again.

He woke, clear-headed, after full light, and
wondered what day it was. His hair was matted with sweat and he
felt uncomfortably warm beneath his many blankets. Piercy slept on
his own bed across the room, his mouth open as usual. Evon
stretched and found that he didn’t hurt nearly as much as he had,
and that his head didn’t ache and his vision was clear. He felt
sticky and sweaty all over, and he needed to relieve himself, but
when he stood, he realized he was too weak to make it to the water
closet down the hall, so he used the chamber pot under the bed and
felt much better.

“I am grateful to see you mobile again, dear
fellow, but I hope you do not expect me to empty that thing for
you,” Piercy said with a yawn.

“I didn’t mean to wake you. You looked
exhausted.”

“And well should I be, what with caring for
you for the last two days. No, no thanks needed, you would
undoubtedly have done the same for me.” Piercy sat up and
stretched. “Fever gone? No more aches? You really do have the worst
nightmares. Fortunate Kerensa was not here or you would both have
been very embarrassed.”

Evon flushed red. “Did she stay away? I
wouldn’t want her to catch this.”

“No, she stayed well away,” Piercy said, too
casually.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Piercy sighed. “Things became, shall we say,
rather intense while you were on your sick bed. She...” He reached
into his coat, which was hanging up at the head of his bed, and
pulled out a folded piece of paper which he handed to Evon. Evon
opened it and read:

Don’t follow me, Evon. I mean it. Time’s run
out and this is the best option. You and Piercy won’t be safe where
I’m going and I couldn’t bear it if you were hurt or killed. Thank
you for everything you’ve done. You’ve been the best friend I could
hope for.

Evon tossed the paper on the bed. “You let
her leave?” he exclaimed.

“There was no ‘letting’ about it, dear
fellow. She made a clean escape that I would admire if I weren’t so
worried. She told the magicians she was going out for the morning
to do some shopping and she told me she would be with the magicians
all day. Then she took her bag and left.”

“But why did she think she had to go? I’m so
close—I know I’ll figure it out soon! She didn’t have to do
this!”

“As I said, dear fellow, things became rather
intense while you were ill. You know I took the map to show Mrs.
Petelter? She became very agitated over it and there were many
communications to headquarters and much running about in the manner
of poultry wondering where their heads have got to. Ultimately we
learned that the Despot is pushing north at an alarming rate rather
than waiting for spring as any sensible mad dictator would do,
leaving nothing in his wake but destruction and brutality. When
confronted with this terrible reality, one of the magicians whom I
will not name because I am certain you can guess her identity
rather vocally protested that there was no way they could figure
out the secret in time. Kerensa apparently took her seriously,
which, since none of the other magicians contradicted Mistress
Quendester, is not nearly so foolish a thing as you might otherwise
think. Kerensa disappeared yesterday morning.”

Evon swayed to his feet and sat back down
hard on the bed. “She doesn’t have the coin, though. She’s just
going to get herself killed.”

Piercy cleared his throat. “Actually, she
does have the coin,” he said. “It was the first thing I looked for
after we learned she was missing. She must have taken it when she
came to see how you fared, night before last. And I must say I’m
relieved that she does. I hate to think of her wandering out there
with no direction.”

“I hate to think of her out there at all.
That skin of hers might prevent her from being harmed by weapons,
possibly, but there are a great many ways to hurt someone that
don’t leave a mark.” Evon attempted to rise again and this time was
successful. He began to remove his clothes. “Did you say she left
yesterday morning? So she only has a day’s head start on me.”

“Evon, think,” Piercy said, pushing him
gently back onto the bed. “You are in no condition to ride. Once
you get to the border you’ll be easy prey for any bandit or thug
that comes along.”

“I recover quickly,” Evon said. “Get out of
my way.”

“The magicians are working on locating her.
Let them track her down. You can’t help her if you relapse.”

“Did she leave anything behind?”

“No.”

“Then the only way they can track her is by
her name, and for that to work you have to know the subject well.
They’re never going to succeed at that. I’m the only one who can
find her.” He stood for a third time, brushed off Piercy’s hand,
and continued to unbutton his wrinkled, sweaty waistcoat.

“Evon, this is madness.”

“No, Piercy, this is me riding off after the
woman I love so she won’t die pointlessly. I don’t care if she
never sees me as anything but a friend. If she dies because I
didn’t do anything to stop her, even if she saves Dalanine or the
whole damn world, I will carry that guilt with me to my grave.
Please try to understand that.”

Piercy looked grim, but he nodded. “I’ll
start packing. You should bathe, you’ll feel better for it. I’ll
find us clothing that is more suited to riding—”

“You’re staying here,” Evon said.

“I am certainly not staying here. You need my
help.”

“Piercy, if the worst happens and I can’t get
her free of the spell before we reach the Despot, I won’t be able
to protect all three of us from the blast. And I need someone here
I can communicate with that I can trust.”

“You can trust Mistress Gavranter.”

“It’s not the same. Piercy, you are perfectly
capable of taking care of yourself on the road, you and I both know
that, but this is going to come down to magic, and you can’t follow
me there.”

“What happens when you have to sneak into the
Despot’s camp?”

“I’ll wish you were there with me, and I’ll
muddle through. But you know this is the only sane course of
action.”

Piercy turned away. “I wish you didn’t make
so much sense sometimes. All right. But I expect to hear from you
every day, even if it’s to say you’ve made no progress.”

“Agreed. Will you still find those clothes
for me?”

“If you promise to bathe. You are rather
ripe, dear fellow.”

Clean and dressed in a shirt and trousers
that made him look like a well-heeled farmer, Evon ate quickly,
ignoring the stares from the others in the dining room, packed what
few things he thought he would need, and went to the stable yard.
He was surprised to find Mistress Gavranter there, wearing a
heavily lined purple cloak that she clutched around her against the
cold. It made her look like a queen preparing to hold court. “Mr.
Lorantis,” she said, “I understand from Mr. Faranter that you
intend to take a ride.”

“Yes, Mistress Gavranter,” Evon said. “I hope
you approve.”