Steven Brust - Athyra

“All right.”

They managed to get the fire started, and after some discussion, decided there was enough wood to keep it going for a while without having to leave the cave again, which neither of them felt inclined to do.

“Mae and Pae must be pretty worried about us,” said Polyi.

“Yeah,” said Savn.

“Well, I think we should tell them where we are,” said Polyi.

Savn shook his head. “They’ll tell Speaker, sure as drought in summer.”

Polyi stared at the sleeping Easterner, and Savn could practically feel her thinking, So what! And the worst of it was that he didn’t know how to answer that thought.

A few minutes later there was the sound of flapping wings. Polyi jumped and stifled a shriek, and the two jhereg landed on the floor of the cave.

“It’s all right,” said Savn. “They’re tame.”

“Tame?” said Polyi, sounding on the verge, of hysteria.

“Well, I mean, they’re friends of his.”

She stared at the Easterner wide-eyed, while the larger of the jhereg deposited what looked like a dead norska. They walked triumphantly over to Vlad and sat down near his head.

Polyi looked a question at Savn, who said, “I guess he wanted meat.”

“But how—?”

“Let’s find something we can use as a spit.”

Polyi looked at him, questions dancing on her face, but she didn’t ask any of them. They looked through the wood they’d collected and found something suitable, while the two jhereg seemed to be arguing with each other about whether the norska should be eaten right away. Savn settled the issue by taking it away from them and proceeding to skin it as best he could, which earned him an angry hiss from the larger jhereg.

“Sometimes,” said Savn, “people say really funny things when they’re feverish. Once Needles had the Dry Fever for almost two days, and she—”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Polyi. “He can’t mean it.”

“Yes. No one can kill His Lordship anyway, because of the box.”

“That’s right.”

Savn set the bloody skin aside for the moment, wondering what to do with it so it wouldn’t attract pests. They worked the makeshift spit through the norska.

“What should we set it on?” asked Polyi.

“I don’t know. Two of the logs?”

“What if they catch fire?”

“Well, we don’t have any big stones or anything.”

“We could just sit on each side of the fire and hold it.”

“I guess. How long will it take to cook?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can you tell when it’s done?”

“Can you?”

“Maybe,” said Savn, and motioned Polyi over to the other side of the fire. “Best to keep it as high as we can, so we don’t burn it.”

Blood and fat dripped on the fire, sending the flames higher and making the cave alarmingly bright, but after only two minutes Polyi announced, “My arm’s getting tired.”

“Mine too,” Savn admitted. “I don’t think this is going to work.”

“Well, what should we do?”

They moved away from the fire and set the slightly warmed norska down on the floor of the cave. Savn glanced at Vlad, and observed that the Easterner was awake, and watching him intently.

“Why don’t you see if you can find something,” said Savn.

“Me?” said Polyi.

“You,” said Savn.

She started to argue, then scowled and got up. “Take a torch with you,” he said. She didn’t answer.

Savn turned to Vlad and said, “They brought you some dinner; we’re trying to figure out how to cook it.”

He nodded. “Pour wine over it,” he said. “My flask—”

“All right,” said Savn, and continued, “You said some funny things while you were feverish.”

Vlad’s eyes narrowed. The torchlight illuminated the side of his face nearest Savn, and the shadow of his forehead made his eyes seem very dark. “Tell me,” he said. His voice was forceful, in spite of its weakness.

“You used the word ‘Morganti’ several times.”

“Did I? I’m not surprised.” He paused to collect his strength. “You know what it means?”

“Yes. It’s a weapon that kills, not only the body, but—”

“Yes. Well, that’s probably what they’ll use on me if they catch me.”

“Who?”

Vlad didn’t answer for a moment, and Savn thought he had fallen asleep again, because his eyes were closed. Then he opened them and said, “The people who are after me.”

“That isn’t what His Lordship’s men used.”

“No,” said Vlad, frowning, “it isn’t.” He screwed his eyes tightly shut, then opened them again. He stared straight ahead, looking puzzled, then shook his head as if dismissing a line of thought. “What else did I say?”

“Lots of stuff. Most of it I couldn’t understand. And there were names and things.”

“And?”

“And you said, ‘I won’t kill for you anymore.’”

“Oh.” Vlad seemed to consider this. “Anything else?”

“Just before you fell asleep, you said you were going to kill His Lordship.”

“Did I? I must have been very tired.”

“To think it?” said Savn. “Or to say it?” Savn waited, but Vlad made no answer to this. Savn said, “Why do you hate him so much, anyway?”

Vlad’s widened nostrils flared. When he spoke, his voice was almost normal. “He’s a necromancer. He works with souls. When he needs one, he takes it, and does what he will. Do you understand what I’m saying? Does that mean anything to you? Would you like it if your life was snuffed out one day, with no warning, and for no crime, just because someone needed your soul, the way you might need a yard of cloth? What sort of person does that, Savn?”

Then he fell back, and he seemed to fall asleep at once.

A few minutes later Polyi returned. “I’ve found a couple of stones that might work,” she said. “But you’re going to have to help me roll them in.”

“All right,” said Savn.

“Did he wake up?”

“Yes.”

“Did he tell you anything?”

“Yes. He really is going to kill His Lordship.”

The smell of cooking norska filled the cave, and Vlad still slept as Savn and Polyi continued their discussion. “I still say we should tell someone,” said Polyi.

Savn shook his head. “Even if no one will believe us?”

“Even so.”

The jhereg watched them, seemingly fascinated. Savn doubted they could understand the conversation, and hoped he was right.

“And even if His Lordship isn’t in any danger?”

“How can you know that?”

“No one can kill him, because he hides his soul in a magic box.”

“Well, we should still—”

“And even if they kill Vlad, if they find him?”

“He might be lying about that, you know,” said Polyi.

“I don’t think he is,” said Savn.

Polyi started to speak, looked at the sleeping Easterner, and shut her mouth. Savn turned the spit once more. Fat dripped; the fire blazed up, then died down again. Savn’s mouth was beginning to water and his stomach was growling.

“How long?” asked Polyi, who was evidently feeling the same way.

“I don’t know. How do you tell when it’s done?”

“Well, it’s brown on the outside. Pae always cuts it open, though.”

“Yeah, but what does he look for?”

“I guess if it looks like it’s ready.”

Savn scowled and found Vlad’s dagger, and cut open the norska. Some of the flesh was white, but some of it seemed translucent. “Well?” he said.

“I don’t know what norska should look like,” said Polyi. “I’ve never eaten any.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s done. Let’s let it cook some more.”

“I’m hungry,” said Polyi.

“Me, too.”

She stared at the fire and the roasting norska, and said, “Why does he hate His Lordship so much?”