Steven Brust - Phoenix

I lay there, breathing very hard, and raised my head. The tall woman was crumbled against a tree, still breathing, but with her own spear sticking out of her abdomen. I have no idea how I managed that. Her eyes were open, and she was staring at me. She tried to speak, but blood came from her mouth. Presently her breathing stopped and a shudder ran through her body.

"We took 'em, Loiosh. All four of 'em. We took 'em."

"Yeah, boss. I know."

I crawled over to the remains of the nearest one, the woman Loiosh had killed, and ripped at her clothing until I had enough cloth to cover the wound on my back. Getting at it hurt like—well, it hurt. I turned over and lay on it, hoping the pressure would stop the bleeding.

I got dizzy, but I didn't pass out, and after what must have been an hour I began the process of finding out if I could sit up. There were jhereg circling overhead, which might or might not lead someone to this place. Loiosh offered to get rid of them for me, but I didn't want him to leave. In any case, I needed to be away from there.

I managed to stand, which was hard, and I didn't scream, which was harder. I took a few items from my pouch of witchcraft supplies, such as kelsch leaves for energy, and a foul-tasting concoction made from moldy bread, and a powder made from kineera, oil of cloves, and comfrey. I wrapped this in more of my enemy's clothing, got it wet from my canteen, and managed to replace the cloth on my back with it. The bleeding had somehow stopped, but taking the cloth away started it again, and it hurt a lot. I took some more kineera, my last, and mixed it with oil of wormwood, more clove oil, corfina, and ground-up pine needles, got it all wet in more cloth from Loiosh's victim, and put this against my shoulder. I spat out the kelsch leaf, decided chewing another would probably kill me, and struggled to my feet. The cloth on my back slipped, so I had to place it again and fasten it with blue eyes' belt. I held the other one in place, gritted my teeth, and quickly, heh, plodded through the forest.

I must have made it a hundred yards before I got dizzy and had to sit down. After a few minutes I tried again and got maybe a little further. I sat there and caught up on my cursing, decided on another kelsch leaf, after all. It worked, I guess, because I think I made it most of a mile before I had to stop again.

"Loiosh, what direction are we going?"

"Still toward the docks, boss. I'd have told you if you were going wrong."

"Oh. Good."

I didn't say anything else, because even that seemed to drain me. I stumbled to my feet and resumed my brisk trudge. Every step was—but no, I don't want to think about it and you don't want to hear about it. We were less than three miles from the scene of the fight, perhaps five miles from the dock, when Loiosh said, "There's someone up ahead, boss."

"Oh," I said. "Can I die now?"

"No."

I sighed. "How far?"

"About a hundred feet."

I stopped where I was and pulled myself behind a large tree.

"Is there some reason why you just noticed him, Loiosh?"

"I don't know. These people don't have much psychic energy. Maybe—he's gone."

"I don't feel a teleport."

"Got me, boss. He just—what's that?"

"That" was a sound, like a low droning, gradually building in pitch. We stood listening. Were there waves, pulses within it? I wasn't sure. The tree had odd, pale green bark, and it was smooth against my cheek. Yes, there were pulses within the droning, a delicate suggestion of rhythm.

"It's sort of hypnotic, boss."

"Yes. Let's take a look."

"Eh? Why? We don't want to be seen around here, do we?"

"If he's looking for me, we can't avoid him. If not—do you really think I'm going to be able to make it all the way to the shore? Not to mention operating a Verra-be-damned boat when I get there?"

"Oh. What are you going to do?"

"I don't know. Maybe kill him and steal whatever he has that's useful."

"Do you think you're up to killing him ?"

"Maybe."

He sat in a small dip in the fields, his legs drawn up under him, his back perfectly straight, yet he seemed relaxed. His eyes were open and looking more or less in our direction, but he didn't appear to see us as we approached. I couldn't guess his House; he seemed as pale as a Tiassa, as thin and gangly as an Athyra, with the slanted eyes and pointed ears of a Dzur. His facial structure, high cheekbones and pointed chin, could have been Dragon, or perhaps Phoenix. His hair was light brown, appearing darker in contrast to his skin. He wore baggy pants of dark brown, sandals, and a sort of blue vest with fringes. A large black jewel hung on a chain around his neck. I didn't think he'd be allowed into the Battles Club unless he found some other footgear.

He held a strange, round device, perhaps two feet in diameter, under his left arm. "It's a drum, boss. Notice the skin across it?"

"Yes. Made out of shell, I think. I suspect he's harmless. We can ask for help, or we can kill him. Any other ideas?"

"Boss, I don't think you can take him in your condition."

"If I can catch him when he's not expecting it—"

The stranger stopped what he was doing, quite abruptly, and his eyes focused on us. He looked down at the drum and adjusted one of the leather cords that were sewn onto the head and appeared stretched all the way around the drum. He tapped the head with a beater of some sort, creating a rich and surprisingly musical tone. He frowned and adjusted another strap, struck the head again, and seemed satisfied. I hadn't heard any difference between the two tones.

"Good afternoon," I managed.

He nodded and gave me a vague smile. He looked at Loiosh, then back at his drum. He struck it again, very lightly, then louder.

"It sounds good," I ventured, my breath coming in gasps.

His eyes widened, but the expression seemed to mean something other than surprise, I don't know what. He spoke for the first time, his voice quiet and pitched rather high. "Are you from the mainland?"

"Yes. We're visiting." He nodded. I looked around for something else to talk about while I figured out what to do. I said, "What do you call that thing?"

"On the island," he said, "we call this a drum."

"Good name for it," I told him. Then I stumbled forward a few steps and collapsed.

I saw the tops of trees, swaying in a light wind. It smelled like morning, and I hurt everywhere.

"Boss?"

"Hey, chum. Where are we?"

"Still here. With that drummer guy. Can you eat again?"

"Drummer guy? Oh, right. I remember. What do you mean 'again'?"

"He's fed you three times since you collapsed. You don't remember?"

I thought about it, decided I didn't. "How long have we been here?"

"A little more than a day."

"Oh. They haven't found us?"

"No one's come close."

"Odd. I'd have thought I left a trail a nymph jhegaala could follow."

"Maybe they haven't found the bodies."

"That can't last long. We should move."

I sat up slowly. The drummer looked at me, nodded, and went back to whatever it was he'd been doing when we got there. He said, "I changed your dressing again."

"Thanks. I'm in your debt."

He went back to concentrating on his drum.

I tried to stand up, decided early on in the process that it was a mistake, and relaxed. I took a couple of deep breaths, letting tension out of my body. I wondered how long it would be until I could walk. Hours? Days? If it was days, I might as well roll over and die right now.