Simon Hawke - The Nomad

“I would certainly think so,” Sorak said. “You are beautiful, but Valsavis has doubtless had beautiful women before. You are also highly intelligent. Most intelligent women would know to stay well away from someone like Valsavis, but a few might easily have been tempted by what they perceived as his aura of danger and unpredictability. They, in their turn, might have regarded him as a challenge. And the results, of course, would have been predictable, whatever their expectations may have been. But you are also a fighter, perhaps the most skilled female fighter he has ever seen. Villichi priestesses are known for being expert in the arts of combat, and you were the best back at the convent.”

“Second best,” she corrected him. “I never could match you at swordplay.”

He shrugged. “Either way, you have mastered a skill to which Valsavis has devoted a lifetime of study. Whatever else he may be, he is first and foremost a warrior. And you are not only intelligent and beautiful but a warrior, as well, perhaps his equal in ability. I think that to a man such as Valsavis, that would represent an almost irresistible challenge. I suppose it’s possible he might try to take you by force, just to see if he could. But then, if he were successful, that would only lessen the thrill. How much more challenging to see if he could win you over, especially when he knows that you are already devoted to someone else.”

“Someone who is also a warrior, and the object of his mission,” said Ryana.

Sorak nodded. “Yes, if he is an agent of the Shadow King, as we suspect.”

“Either way, I do not like this at all,” she said. “We are facing enough danger as it is without having him around.”

And a voice within each of their minds suddenly spoke, saying, “I agree”

They stared at each other with surprise, and in the next moment, a small, desert dust devil came spinning into the room through the open window. Sorak moved back quickly, startled as it blew past him and alighted on the floor, a small, funnel-shaped whirlwind of dust and sand that, in the next instant, lengthened and expanded, transforming itself into Kara, the pyreen known as the Silent One.

“Forgive the intrusion,” she said, “but I had to speak with you in private. I do not trust this man, Valsavis. I was told to expect you two, but not him.”

“Then you have communicated with the Sage?” asked Sorak eagerly, recovering from his surprise at her sudden and dramatic appearance.

“Say rather that he has communicated with me,” Kara replied. “I promised him that I would help you, but I promised nothing about Valsavis. His thoughts are inaccessible to me, and I regard that as a warning. There is an aura of malevolence about him, and of duplicity. I do not want him with us. Therefore, we are leaving now, instead of tomorrow evening.”

“We do not trust Valsavis either,” Sorak told her. “We believe that he may be an agent of the Shadow King. Nevertheless, I thought that it would be easier to keep an eye on him if he were with us rather than trailing us. Valsavis is an expert tracker. He will doubtless follow us to Bodach. We cannot prevent him.”

“That is all the more reason to start now and place as much distance between us as possible,” Kara replied.

“I am in complete agreement with your assessment of him,” said Sorak, “but we should consider that his sword arm could come in useful in the city of the undead.”

“If it were not used against us,” the pyreen replied. “I might be willing to take that chance on my own behalf, but not where the Sage may be concerned. If Valsavis is an agent of the Shadow King, then surely he must have some means of reporting to him. The Breastplate of Argentum is a powerful talisman. The Shadow King would know that and would do anything to insure that the Sage did not acquire it.” She shook her head. “No, I shall not take the risk. We must leave at once without alerting Valsavis.”

“Then we are ready,” Sorak said, picking up his pack and shouldering it. Ryana buckled on her sword belt and shouldered her own pack. They headed, toward the door.

“No,” said Kara. “Not that way. If you are seen leaving, then someone could alert him.”

“Yes, you’re right, of course,” said Sorak. “I would not put it past him to have bribed someone to watch our comings and goings and report to him. We shall use the window, as you did, and sneak out over the garden wall. Where shall we meet you?”

“Outside the east gate of the village,” Kara replied. “Good,” said Sorak. “Our kanks are stabled there. We can pick them up and-”

“No,” said Kara, “leave them. Kanks would leave an easy trail to follow, especially for an expert tracker.”

“But if we go on foot, then he will catch us easily,” Ryana protested, not adding that she was not looking forward to crossing the southern half of the Ivory Plain and going all the way around the inland silt basins on foot.

“We are wasting precious time,” said Kara in a tone that brooked no disagreement. “Meet me outside the east gate as soon possible.”

And with that, she spun around once, twice, three times, and became a dust devil once again that whirled out through the window and over the garden wall.

“Perhaps she knows a short cut,” Sorak said.

“To Bodach?” said Ryana. She grimaced. “I have seen your map. It is an even longer journey there than it was to here from Nibenay.”

“Well, you will recall the map was not entirely accurate,” said Sorak, though he knew it was a rather lame response. “In any case, she is our guide, and we must place ourselves in her hands.”

He swung out through the window. Ryana followed, and they quickly crossed the garden, keeping well away from the main path by the entrance. They reached the wall, and Ryana made a saddle of her hands, giving Sorak a leg up. Once he reached the top of the wall, he held his hand down to her and helped her up. They dropped to the street and quickly lost themselves among the nighttime crowd.

It did not take them long to reach the east gate of the village. Ryana cast a longing glance at the stables as they passed them, thinking how much more comfortable it would have been to ride a kank than go again on foot across miles of hot salt. They had filled their waterskins at a public well on their way out of he village, but with a journey as long as they had ahead of them, Ryana knew that it would not be enough. Fortunately, however, they would be traveling with a pyreen this time. If anyone could find water in the dry wasteland between Salt View and Bodach, Kara could.

There was no sign of Kara at the gate, however. But then Sorak recalled that she had told them to meet her outside the village gate. They went through and stopped to look around, yet the pyreen was nowhere to be seen.

“Now what?” said Ryana, with a worried look. “She said that she would meet us here,” said Sorak. “So? Where is she?”

“She will be here,” Sorak replied confidently. “I certainly hope so,” said Ryana dubiously. “She is pyreen,” said Sorak with conviction. “She would never let down fellow preservers. Especially those who served the Sage. Perhaps we should continue on ahead for a short distance.”

“Only what if she comes after we’ve gone and waits for us by the gate?” Ryana asked.

“A shapeshifter will have no difficulty finding us,” said Sorak. “She will assume we must have gone on.”

“Very well, if you say so,” Ryana replied, but she had her doubts, and the prospect of the long journey ahead, on foot and without a guide, was not a pleasant one.

They started walking down the trail leading away from the village. After a few moments, they became aware of something moving off to their right. They heard the rapid pattering of small paws, and Sorak, with his superior night vision, could make out a creature running on all fours a short distance away, parallel to their course.