Steelflower, Page 2

  How long have you been away from home, large red one? Do you wish you could return? It was uncomfortable, this interest I was taking in his predicament. I had already involved myself too deeply. Yet I could not leave him to his own devices, it was increasingly clear he would never escape Hain alive. He was just so…huge. “Welcome you are to it. So why exactly are the Guards after you?”

  “I doan know,” he said through a mouthful of cheese. “The necklace. Red-eyed bugger chasing me e’er since I won it, an’ tha’ made the Hain mad. Killed three of their’un, an’ I think they thinks we be partners, the red-eyed bugger an’ me. That, an’ the Sun festival.”

  “What red-eyed bugger? Be a little easier with your meal, friend Redfist. You shall choke.” I took another swallow of wine and then rose up out of my crouch, moved to the little cupboard set on the side. There was a flask—the water tasted leathery, but was still good.

  “Red-eyed bugger wit’ two swords. I think th’ sorry bugger who lost the necklace stole from him.”

  “Who would steal something this cheap?” The crystal was sharp and warm against my chest. Why, exactly, was I wearing it? Why would I keep something so shoddy? I had not worn a piece of jewelry for nigh on ten summers. Not since the ear-drops I had stolen in my first city, so long ago.

  Now that was an unpleasant memory. I quelled a shudder.

  “D'nae know. Ye stole it too, din ye, lassie?”

  “My name is Kaia. Not lassie.” I sounded ill-humored, even to myself. “I shall sleep on the floor tonight.”

  “Nay, lass. You take the softie, I had ‘tall day.” The rest of the sausage vanished down his gullet. It was amazing to see so much food vanish so quickly.

  I shrugged. It had been a long weary day, and my head still hurt from mead. “It makes no difference. I merely hope you have no fleas. And I warn you, I will kill you if you try any bedgames with me.”

  He rolled his eyes, and let out another amazing belch. “A l’il thing like you’s no proper wench. I had want one I wouldnae squash, lass. Doan trouble yerself.”

  “No trouble.” I am actually taller than the Hain, and a hand taller than most other G’mai women as well. The G’mai call a taller woman s’tatadai, a marshcat, and I had been compared to a marshcat before: ill-tempered, lethal, and invisible before striking. “Tomorrow I shall take you from the city, and we may part ways.”

  “Aye.” He nodded sagely. “Unless ye be wanting work. Two of us better than one.”

  “You are far too conspicuous to make a good thief, and the only war for mercenaries is half a continent away. The Danhai are still rebelling against the Shainakh Empire. I wish no more of that war. The tales the newsmongers sing are awful enough.”

  “Ye mun fair wi’ yer pigsticker there, K’ai.” He indicated my sword with a jerk of his chin. It rode my back as usual. Easier to draw. Not like the Hain, with their short flat blades at their belts.

  “If I carry it, I should know how to use it.” How am I going to remove you from the city? If this was a freetown we could simply choose a direction and go, but the Hain like their cities locked tighter than a whore’s cashbox. I rubbed at the back of my neck, smoothing away tension. The only trouble with Ch'li's massages was how quickly the relaxation faded.

  “Th' red-eyed bugger chasing that prettybit, carrying blades tha' shape.” He nodded sagely, again. I wondered if he was simple, or if he was so used to other people thinking him stupid because of his size that he had begun to act so.

  I mulled over his words a moment. Dotanii are long and slightly curved, slashing blades with oddly shaped hilts meeting the hand differently than other blades. The shape is fairly distinctive. “Other than the red eyes, what does he look like?”

  “Taller than ye, lass, with yer type o’hair. The blueblack, not the redblack. Short hair, an’ a scar on his throat.” He demonstrated, drawing a thick finger across his own throat. “So, and so.”

  My skin prickled with gooseflesh. So. Perhaps a man had stolen G’mai blades—or bought them, though we do not sell steel outside our own borders. Still, twas possible. Anything is possible, once one leaves one's native land. “Well, he shall not find us here, and we will be gone by morning. Better sleep. The chamber pot is there.”

  “Ai, I know, lass. Nice little cottage here.” He hefted himself to his feet, licking his fingers. I winced, looked away, and brushed the crumbs off the bedroll, settled down gratefully. I would sleep lightly tonight. The hilt of a dagger poked into my ribs, but I ignored it. I had learned quickly to take what sleep I could, wherever I could. Before the barbarian finished his…

  I was asleep.

  Chapter 4

  A Lucky Thing

  By the time I had my knives drawn, I was beginning to wake.

  I thought I would have to kick the barbarian, but at the sound of metal leaving the sheath he rose to his feet with far less noise and far more speed than I thought possible.

  I pointed to the other side of the bedroll and made a shoving motion with my hands, knives glinting in the dimness. Redfist nodded and knelt on the bedroll carefully, pushed at the wall. It folded aside silently, revealing a short staircase leading up to another trapdoor—a one-way escape hatch. I had learned the trick of making them on a ship one winter with a half-drunk Rijiin carpenter.

  The same winter we fought off pirates all the way across the Lan'ai, another unpleasant memory.

  The barbarian squeezed himself up the stairs while I waited. Cool predawn air filtered down to me as he sought to open the hatch quietly.

  Another sound. A step that did not try to be silent against the creaking floorboards of the shack overhead. I had deliberately chosen this hut because the floor was noisy, the best assurance against thieves and assassins.

  The one above us knelt at the trapdoor.

  I made it up the stairs, stopping only to throw the small clay ball behind me. I heard it shatter on the floor in the hole, the navthen trapped inside mixing with ortrox coating the outside. Chemical reaction would produce a short-lived but very hot burst of flame, and the floor was highly flammable.

  Learning that trick had almost cost me three fingers. I am most emphatically not an apothecary.

  Redfist waited above, his axe held ready. I ran past and he followed, running with more stealth and speed possible from someone of his size. The shack would be ablaze in moments, but the wasteland of already-charred land around it would not threaten the rest of the city with a conflagration.

  I led Redfist through a merry patchwork of alleys and streets until we came to rest just out of sight of the West Gate. The larger gate would open at dawn, when the horns rang, but the postern—if I could bribe the guard—could be opened for us. I took in great heaving gulps of air. The barbarian sweating smelled even riper. I wrinkled my nose and bent over, rubbed at my eyes to clear the nightsand away.

  “Wha’ was it, lass?” Redfist gasped finally, when we both could breathe.

  “Someone searching the shack above us.” My aching bladder protested sharply. “Stand watch.”

  “Uhn.” An affirmative grunt, the same in any language.

  I pissed behind a pile of rags set out for the ragpickers and made it back to his side, tying the laces on my trousers. “You mean you ran all this way without knowing what I did?” My lungs were easing their burning, and my legs did not feel quite so shaky.

  “Ye’re nae stupid nor coward, K’ai.” His green eyes shone like a solemn child's. “’F ye stand up wi’ yer eyes full of fire and a dagger in each fist, Rainak Redfist will nay disagree wit’ ye.”

  Well, that is a comfort, I suppose. “I do not know who our intruder was, but he is probably dead now. I would not be surprised if the entire shack burned.” I settled myself against the kiln-fired bricks of the wall, glad of the support.

  “Uhn.” Another affirmative grunt. “Mayhap the red-eyed bugger?” His ginger hair stood up wildly in spikes and clumps. He was simply too big, I could not hope to talk him past a gate-Guard.

&
nbsp; “Mayhap,” I agreed gravely. “You have no idea who he is?”

  “Nary, lass.”

  I believed him. Small bits of my hair had slipped loose from its complex mass of braids. I tucked a strand behind my ear and peeked around the corner.

  “Ah. Luck is with us today, Redfist. The gate is open early, and the guard just ducked into his hut with an exceptionally enterprising streetseller. Come now, quick and quiet.” My thigh burned with the fantastic bruise the Hain had gifted me yesterday. I would stiffen again if I did not stretch and allow myself some time to heal.

  Soon enough, Kaia. Move now and worry later.

  We reached the gate and slipped through the postern, nobody the wiser.

  Once outside the Hain city walls and through the maze of shanty dwellings spreading out from the larger redbrick warehouses and the fantastic, red-tiled wall, I relaxed a little. We moved with the steady, ground-eating lope most mercenaries and sellswords develop after a time, a pace most of us can keep for a full two days without rest or food. Mother grant me that is not needed here, I prayed, and when we cleared the shantytown and moved out into the clearcut plains before the coastal forest, I called a halt.

  We drank from a stream trilling through waist-high chedgrass, and I splashed my face. “Well. I think we may be safe enough now. No gear, and no bow…we shall have to live lean for a space. True?”

  “Right enough, lass.” Redfist's mouth pulled down glumly.

  A smile spread over my face. “Not at all. I’ve a cache around here somewhere. Two bows, some gear. Wish we had a horse. I could steal one, given half a chance. But you are too big to ride.”

  “Aye. Except a Skaialan draft, an’ they be few and far between here. Mayhap south?”

  “You may go south, if you wish. I am bound up-coast to Shaituh.” I trailed my fingers through silky chedgrass heads, the seeds plump and fat like little pearls. “I will give you a bow and full quiver, and you should be able to—”

  “I’ll nae leave ye, lass. That’s thrice ye’ve saved my life.”

  I made a small sound of annoyance. “I cannot drag a barbarian in my wake. You are too big. People will talk. I make my living doing things I do not wish spoken of.”

  “So ye’re a thief.” His ginger-haired lip curled. “I ken. I can earn honest coin, ye can steal what ye like.”

  His tone managed to nettle me. “I make my living by being inconspicuous. Tis hard to do as the only G’mai in a city, but I manage. I took you out of the city, I saved your life, now you may go where you like and leave me to my own troubles.” I had my hands on my hips by now. What I really desired was another bath, a chance to re-braid my hair, and some fresh clothes.

  What I had was one large furry barbarian problem and someone possibly chasing us. Someone with red eyes, and with two swords, shaped like mine.

  That does not make a pretty tale, and I like it even less after this morn’s events.

  “Rainak Redfist goes where he pleases, lass, and I’ll thank you not to forget it. I go wit’ ye until I’ve paid me debt.” He folded meaty arms across his massive chest and stared at me with green barbarian eyes. “So I’ve sworn.”

  “Oh, Mother’s tits.” Disgusted with the entire conversation, I took my bearings and turned, trotting off for the forest. I had wanted to practice my woodscraft—but not like this.

  He followed me, of course. Lucky Kaia, with a new barbarian pet.

  “I dinna think any of the Blest People came over th’ mountains.” He was behind me, moving more quietly than he had any right to.

  I rounded on him. “What would you know of the Blessed People? You are a barbarian. You are trouble I do not need. Is that perfectly, undeniably clear?”

  “Ye be Gemerh, then. Elvish. I wondered, I did.”

  “Oh—” I could not even curse, I was so distempered. No G’mai likes the term elvish, tis usually pejorative. They use it when they wish to call us something less than human, and therefore easier to think of killing. “Do not force me to draw my sword, large red one. I am not what you think. Come.”

  He had the sense to shut his mouth, and followed me across the rolling plain.

  Chapter 5

  Try To Keep Pace

  I found the cache about mid-morning, as the Sun climbed to her zenith. Everything was wrapped in a sewn oilcloth, which also doubled as a pack. I strapped on the first of the two bows, my favorite, and a full quiver of arrows as well. I examined the dried meat and travel-bread, thankfully still good. And the dried cirfruit. Enough for a few days. Yet I had the barbarian to feed, too.

  Well, at least my practice of having a cache was proving useful. Again. If I would but cease being tossed out of cities or fleeing the authorities…but what else is there, when you are a sellsword and thief? It is work not recommended to give one peaceful nights.

  I hardly remembered what I had buried here. There was a travel-kit too. I belted it on and sighed. A full purse; I opened it and saw silver Hain sequins. Not as good as kiyan, but good enough. I divided them as evenly as I could by eye, and gave the barbarian half. “Here. A hedge against trouble.”

  He nodded. “Not many folk would do so, K’ai.”

  “Kaia,” I corrected. “I have rescued you from the Hain Guard twice now, and from your red-eyed bugger too. I suppose I might as well cap it by giving you half my coin. At least you are not boring.” And if this red-eyed bugger is chasing us, you may make an excellent shield against him. It is not unlikely that you are the one he seeks.

  “Uhn.” He grunted, but there was a twinkle of amusement in his green eyes. I wondered if the Hain made ward-signs on catching his gaze, as well.

  On the fringes of the forest, the trees were merely scrubwood but still growing quickly in the warm clime. I gave the oilcloth pack to Redfist and surveyed the lay of the land. “We shall have to hunt tomorrow. For now, let us put distance between ourselves and the Sunlord’s city.”

  “What about tha’ red-eyed bugger?” Redfist looked relieved, his eyebrows wagging so hard I almost felt the breeze. The bandage on his head was much the worse for wear, dirt and old blood marring the linen.

  I shrugged, the familiar weight of bow and quiver settling into my shoulders and back. “We shall go a little further into the forest. Is the crystal something important to him? Do you know?”

  The barbarian looked surprised. “I doan know, lass.”

  “I have a sneaking suspicion we shall find out.” I eyed him, gauging how long he was likely to last at a punishing pace. “Try to keep pace.”

  “I hae not fallen behind yet,” he said stiffly.

  I set off, deeper into the coastal forest. The barbarian followed me.

  Lucky, lucky Kaia. With a new barbarian pet, pursued by a red-eyed bugger.

  A Barrier To Evil

  At our nooning, taken in a small glade with a stream chuckling through, I sat atop a large flat rock and ate travel-bread with a dried cirfruit. The barbarian contented himself with dried meat and bread. This clearing had a small whitebark tree in the very center. Sunlight filtered down, edging each leaf in gold and glowing on the paper-white trunk.

  I stared at the tree for a long while, thinking. Whitebark is generally held to repel evil.

  What are you contemplating? I chewed my cirfruit slowly, drank from the filled water flask. What can you possibly be planning, Kaia?

  Simple enough. If twas another G’mai—this far from G’maihallan twas not likely, but still—his adai would be with him. Probably waiting in the shadows. Did someone steal an adai’s necklace? Surely an adai would not send her s’tarei after such a trifle? Unless it was a Talisman. I would not know a Talisman if it bit me. I avoided Power, having none of it myself.

  Maybe a capricious adai’s pocket had been picked, and she had sent a s’tarei after it? Why would an adai’s necklace be in her pocket if twas not a Talisman? And why would a cracked crystal on a cheap chain be a Talisman?

  The more I dwelled on it, the more uneasy I became. I had never heard of a
red-eyed s’tarei, nor of any red-eyed ghosts in the tales of my youth. My own eyes are a clear dark gold, which unusual enough among my dark-eyed people. I was doubly strange, I had no Power. Was this the ghost of the s’tarei I might have had, if my mother had not let me be born lacking?

  I pushed the thought away as soon as it rose.

  Only s’tarei carried double dotanii. So it was impossible, unless someone had bartered or stolen for G’mai swords. But red eyes…perhaps a ghost?

  A hungry ghost, mayhap. Just because there were no children’s tales of such things did not mean they did not exist. The world was wide indeed, and I knew better than to think I had seen all its horrors.

  I shivered, hopped down from the flat rock and washed my hands in the stream, rinsed and filled my flask. “Are you rested?” The first words I had spoken since our stopping sounded strange in the clearing.

  He scratched under the soiled bandage. “Rested enow. What makes ye so grim, young lassie?”

  “Thinking on your red-eyed friend. It seems passing strange.”

  “Oh, aye, it does. What d’ye think, then?”

  I levered myself to my feet and approached the whitebark in the middle of the clearing. Sunlight fell down unbroken, warming my shoulders.

  I slipped the chain over my head and hung it on a convenient branch. The Sun glittered through it, sending one hard flash winging outward. As if it cried out as it left my hand.

  Strangely, the crystal felt heavier. It certainly bowed the half-finger-thick branch I looped it over. The setting did not look so cheap now, and when I looked closely it seemed worked out of a larger piece. I saw the faint wavy lines of something in the metal. The flaw did not look as large, and the chain more supple. Had I not known differently, I would have sworn it was true silver instead of lightmetal mix.