Hell Skin Page 2

  Besides the horse, Albern had given her a new brown cloak—or new to Sun, at any rate, for Albern had clearly owned it for a while. But it was warmer than the blue one she had worn when they met, and it was also less conspicuous.

  “If you need to relieve yourself, do it now,” said Albern. “I mean to push our pace today.”

  “But you said we were an easy day’s ride from Bertram,” said Sun.

  “Easy if we want to make the city by sundown,” said Albern. “But I would rather get there ahead of the dark if we can. One of my friends in the city does not appreciate being woken at night—or being summoned, I should say, for he is usually already awake, and accompanied.”

  Sun scowled at him. “I suppose you mean to tell me that we will not have time for the story.”

  Albern chuckled. “Oh, were you anxious about that? Then be assured that I do not mean to gallop the whole way.”

  “That is all I needed to hear. I will return quickly.”

  She darted around to the outhouse in back of the inn. As with many places they had visited lately, it was only a wooden platform with a hole in it, but her nose did not curl quite so bitterly as it used to. She was growing somewhat used to conditions on the road, which of course were far less glamorous than the luxury in which she had been raised.

  It made her wonder what her parents would think if they could see her now. But that thought carried worry in its wake, and she shied away from it. Thoughts of her parents had pressed themselves more and more into her mind of late. Had they halted their procession, sending their guards to seek her across the land? Or would they have carried on, eager to begin the long process of raising their station to its former heights? Sun could not be sure, and it was useless to think too long upon it. Yet in the back of her mind was being scratched, as though by a scribe marking events in a tome of history, a map of where her parents would be each day.

  They would reach Bertram before long. Not today, as Sun would. But not too far in the future, either.

  Sun did not plan to be there when they came, however. And so she found it easier than expected to banish the last thoughts of her family as she rejoined Albern where he waited with their mounts. Sun patted her horse fondly on the neck as Albern handed her the reins.

  “Have you thought of a name yet?” said Albern. “You know it is bad luck to ride a horse with no name.”

  “That was Mag’s superstition,” said Sun.

  Albern smiled sadly. “I called it so at the time. Yet you already know my thoughts on many subjects have changed since then.”

  “My opinions have not been tempered by so many years as yours.” Sun studied the horse in deep thought. She was a fine steed, though not fit for battle. She was too slight, and just a bit too skittish—trusting of Sun’s judgement, but nervous at a sudden noise.

  “I will name her Undvikar if it will reassure you. Though I will call her ‘Vika’ more often, for it comes more easily to the tongue.”

  Albern smiled, and she wondered if he knew the old tongue of Dulmun from which she had drawn the name. But he said only, “I hope you name her for yourself, and not for my assurance. But I think it is a fine name. Hello, Vika.” He reached over and scratched the mare behind the ears, which she hesitantly permitted. “Now, let us be off.”

  They remained on foot and walked the horses at first, pressing into the busy traffic of the town’s main street. Many wagons and carts were plodding their way through the shallow mud, heading east and west in roughly equal numbers. Those heading west were laden with goods, mostly foodstuffs to trade in Bertram. Those rolling east were mostly empty, or else held items from the city to sell in town. But though the crowd was thick, still there was room enough to weave through it, which Albern did with expert swiftness.

  Navigating the press kept them silent until they left the town’s western end. There the way opened before them, the carts having room to spread out. But before Sun and Albern mounted, she caught his gaze and spoke.

  “I want to hear how Mag died.”

  Albern went still for a moment. Then, without answering, he climbed into his saddle. Sun did the same, but she kept her eye on him all the while. She half expected him to spur his mount, still without answering her. But at last he returned her gaze, peering at her from under his hood, which he had raised against the last chill of morning.

  “This is the third time you have asked me to tell you that, and the first time you have said it so plainly.”

  Sun had expected him to deny her outright. His answer was not what she had asked for, but it was not a refusal, either. “You told me I may ask whatever I wish, though you are not obligated to tell me the story that I want.”

  Albern sighed and turned his eyes forwards again. When he spoke, his voice was sad and solemn, but strong. It was the tone of one speaking at the funeral of a dear friend: an acknowledgment of grief, but also a resolution to face the future without fear.

  “They say the best tales never end, but that is a lie. All tales end. Yours, mine. Mag’s. Yet while they still spin, in chorus they weave the tale of the world. And that tale shall never die, even if one day none of us remain to hear it.”

  He glanced at her again, but only for a moment. “It is as I said in the tavern, Sun. You are too eager to reach the end of the story. You would be wiser to enjoy yourself. Take your time. All things end, yes, but that does not mean we should charge recklessly towards that end, eager to meet it. And neither should we cower from it, afraid for it to find us.

  “I have met many people who needed to learn that second lesson. Mag needed to learn the first.”

  WINTER HAD YET REFUSED TO release its forbidding grip on the land of Dorsea when Mag, Dryleaf, Oku, and I rode down out of the Sunmane Pass. Of course, we had clothes to protect us against the weather, but there is a sort of cold that no cloak can entirely dispel, and it shrouded us. The peaks of the mountains at our backs remained snow-capped all year round. But now the snow covered everything from those peaks to the valleys and the wide-open land before us, shrouding it all in white. Even forests made little impression on the snowy blanket. Only the marks of towns and other settlements were plain to see, patches of brown that spouted the grey smoke of hearths into the sky.

  You will remember that we had remained in Calentin for some time before continuing our pursuit of Kaita. The best information we had was that she had been heading southwest, and so that was where we went. We took the long road south through Calentin’s eastern reaches, bearing my sister’s writ, which let us pass unmolested through the lands of the other Rangatira.

  In the city of Opara we rested for a few days, visiting our friend Victon and seeking what information we could. But there was precious little of it. All along our journey north, Kaita had been enticing us with a trail of clues, hidden just well enough to make us think we were terribly clever for discovering them. Now that she no longer wished to be followed, we were faced with tracking down a weremage in a wide-open world. That can be a nearly impossible task. We knew only of her connection to the Shades, and so it was information about them that we sought. All we had found so far was some vague rumor, gleaned from the Rangatira in Opara, of a plot that concerned northeastern Dorsea. And so that was where we had turned our steps.

  The search was long and fruitless, and it weighed heavy on us. There is only so much time one can spend seeking one’s quarry before one tires of the hunt. Sometimes we were desperate for any sign of Kaita. Other times we were apathetically numb and merely going through the motions of our journey.

  No one had heard anything in any of the places we visited. There were no rumors of a rogue weremage. We could find no reliable information about the Shades.

  It was now a week since we had come down out of the mountains, and we were drawing near to a small town by the name of Taitou. As we rode, Dryleaf often turned to face the south. He was blind, of course, but he had traveled these lands when he was younger. He knew the Birchwood was close, and he must have been thinking of Loren.

  Loren would have been much on my mind as well, but I was preoccupied with Mag. She was my best friend, and we often jested and poked fun at each other. But ever since the Sunmane Pass, a dark mood had come over her. There had been an avalanche in those mountains, and though it posed no danger to us, Mag had been somber since.

  I thought she might harbor worry for Dryleaf and me, imagining that she was dragging us along a more dangerous journey than she had at first foreseen. Or mayhap she only hoped, as I did, that the end of the road was near, and all her thought was bent upon it. But as we approached the walls of Taitou, I sought to cheer her up.

  “What troubling thoughts leave you so grumpy?” I called out to her. “If you are not careful, your face will freeze in that frown—though I suppose that could only be an improvement.”

  She did not laugh. In fact, she barely glanced at me. “No troubling thoughts,” she said. “Only a hope that the journey will soon be over. But mayhap that is a fool’s hope.”

  “You should enjoy what you can of your wanderings,” I told her. “Look at the land we ride in. Is it not beautiful? Drink it in and let your cares go, while they are not pressing.”

  “It has always been beautiful.” Mag tossed her head to the north. “I used to live two days’ ride from here, in the northern reaches of the Carrweld Forest. You can see its southern reaches there. Taitou was the closest settlement of any notable size—I once thought it was a great city.”

  There are few things she could have said that would have been more surprising. In all our years together, Mag had seldom spoken about her past.

  “I did not know that,” I answered after a moment.

  “It was a small village.” Her words came slow, her voice careful. “A tiny village called Shuiniu. There I d
welled until … well, until I outgrew it, I suppose. One day I had to go out into the wider world, of which I knew nothing, and when I did, I had to pick a direction. South was straight into the forest. I knew of nothing interesting to the west or east. But I had heard tales of Feldemar, and it seemed a grand kingdom, and so that is where I went. And that led me to the Upangan Blades, and you. We met about a week after I left home.”

  In a few moments, Mag had told me more of her early life than in all the years of our youth. It was just like in Tokana, when she had told me of her love of the forests. And in that moment, as before, I did not know quite what to do. I suppose I was like you, desperate for her to give me more details and continue the story. But, if you will forgive me for saying so, I had the sense to rein in my questions—all but one.

  “Do you want to visit?” I said.

  Mag gave me a sharp look.

  “We do not have to,” I said hastily. “But we do not know where to go, and I think we can spare a day, or a few of them. Is there anyone there you wish to see?”

  “No.” Her answer came without hesitation. Her tone was not harsh, but neither did it leave any room for argument or doubt. And she did not explain further.

  “Fair enough,” I said, attempting nonchalance. But in truth, I was afraid I had sent her guard crashing back down, and I wished I had said nothing at all.

  Two days after we rode out of the Sunmane Pass, a rider came out of the mountains behind us. She stopped at the last crest before the road descended into Dorsea’s lowlands. The height was lofty enough to see a great distance, until it was easy to imagine one could view Danfon far to the southeast, though of course that was impossible.

  She pulled her cloak a bit tighter around herself. She had been searching for us, and her search had gone on for a long time. Disappointment in Calentin was close behind her, but now the trail was fresh again, and it led her into Dorsea.

  With a grumble and a set in her shoulders, she nudged her horse forwards, down into the lands we had entered only days ago.

  Dusk was still hours away when we reached the town of Taitou. At the western gate, guards inspected us with suspicion. This, of course, was routine to us now—from Constable Yue at the gates of Lan Shui to the Rangatira’s soldiers who guarded Opara, we had practice dealing with servants of the King’s law. We had a story already prepared and well rehearsed from long repetition.

  But this time was different. In addition to four constables, two Mystics guarded the gate as well.

  I knew many Mystics in my day. Some were good, like Jordel of the family Adair, about whom I have told you. A few were cruel. Most were somewhere in the middle. But for the most part, I rarely wished to get involved with Mystics if I could help it. If they were present in any situation, it was because things had gotten much worse than they should have. And with some exceptions, I knew them for a suspicious lot, willing to go to any length to solve a crime they were investigating. They were only too ready to eliminate anything—or anyone—they perceived as a threat to the High King’s order.

  So you can understand it was with some trepidation that we submitted ourselves to inspection by the redcloaks. More than their scrutiny, I feared that word of our coming might reach unwanted ears. The Shades had agents in many places, and I did not doubt that at least some of them had infiltrated the redcloaks. Yet there was nothing we could do, other than turn and ride from Taitou with all possible speed—and that would have been suspicious, to say the least. Then the Mystics would have sent out word to their order that three riders of our description had refused to submit to inspection, and that news would have reached Kaita in time.

  So I fixed a smile on my face as I stood a few paces off from Foolhoof, my gelding. “Is there anything I can help you with, friend? If you tell me what you are looking for, mayhap I can tell you where to find it.”

  The Mystic, a stout man with dark hair and a heavy scar on his left cheek, frowned at me. It was his second time going through my things.

  “If you were carrying what I am looking for, you would not tell me.”

  “Contraband, is it?” said Mag. “Or mayhap you seek a blue cloak?”

  I winced. Dark take Mag. She almost seemed to enjoy taunting the King’s law and those who served it.

  Both Mystics gave her sharp looks. “An odd thing to say,” growled the second one, a strong-armed twixt with impressive scars on their bare arms. I wondered how they were not shivering with cold. “What makes you think of blue cloaks?”

  “Come, my friends.” Dryleaf was as polite as ever. “Do you imagine we are ignorant of the rumors about these Shades? Sky above, they attacked the Seat. It does no one any good to pretend at secrecy—not us, and not you, with your mission from the High King.”

  “Our mission is our own, and we will see to it,” said the man. “But as for you three, what exactly do you know of the Shades?”

  “Only what everyone knows,” I said, shrugging. “They attacked the Seat, and then they vanished. All else is rumors.”

  The twixt glared hard. “What rumors, exactly?”

  “Zhen! Lo!” said a new voice. “I hope you are not being rude to Taitou’s newest guests.”

  Both Mystics yanked their hands from our saddles, smoothed their cloaks, and stood at attention, as another approached through the gate. As he came to a stop before us, the others saluted with fists over their hearts.

  The first thing I noticed about the new arrival was his smile, for it seemed ever-present, and it flashed with well-kept white teeth. After that, I noticed that he was short—or a bit shorter than me, anyway—with several layers of fat beneath his clothing. He wore a red cloak, like most of those in his order, and the Mystic badge—three rods bound by a circle, with three-sectioned wings behind. But he also bore an arrow insignia on his tunic that told me he was a captain, the same as Jordel had been. My fingers played with a small bag at my belt holding one of Jordel’s clasps, which I had taken from his body in token of memory. I was glad the Mystics had not wanted to search our every pocket and pouch.

  As the captain came to a clipped halt, I found myself straightening as the Mystics had. It was the long-honed habit of drawing up before an officer about to inspect you. (Mag, if anything, slouched a bit more).

  Dryleaf bowed his head as he heard the captain come to a halt. “Your fine warriors were doing only their duty, I am sure.” He stepped forwards and offered his hand.

  The Mystic captain stepped forwards and took his wrist gently to shake it. “They are dutiful, no doubt,” he said. “Though they often inconvenience new arrivals more than turns out to be necessary. But what can one do? These are dangerous times. I am certain ones such as yourselves understand.”

  Mag cocked her head. “Ones such as ourselves?”

  “Well, you understand me,” said the captain. “Warriors.”

  Mag paused, appraising him for a moment. To cover the sudden silence, I stepped towards the captain and extended my hand as Dryleaf had done. “Of course we understand, Captain …?”

  His eyes flashed as he took my wrist and shook. “You recognize the symbol. Few do. I am Captain Kun, of the family Zhou.”

  I managed to keep my expression neutral, but inside I winced. Recognizing a captain’s arrow was nothing a simple traveler would be able to do. He suspected we were fighters, and I had just confirmed it.

  But I said only, “I am Kanohari. And my friend here is Chao. Our elderly friend is Dryleaf.” Mag and I were using false names, you will remember.

  “I may be blind, but I say again that I think you overstate things,” said Dryleaf, cheerfully snippy. “If I could see, I do not doubt I would find you almost of an age with me.”

  The joke was well rehearsed, and I chuckled. Dryleaf smiled. But Captain Zhou’s eyes were on Mag. She was staring around as if in boredom, waiting for us to sort out the pleasantries. Kun saw it, and he pointed to her as he laughed.