Steven Erikson - Dust of Dreams

Witching poles. Yedan Derryg walked up to the guards, who parted to let him pass-saving him the effort of beating the fools senseless-and halted before the women. ‘Do you know what you’re doing?’ he demanded. ‘Such rituals belong to Elder Witches, not their apprentices-where is my sister? In the tent? Why?’

The woman closest to him, curvaceous beneath her rags, her black hair glistening in the sunlight, placed two fingers beneath her large, dark eyes, and then smiled. ‘The Watch sees but remains blind, an yer blind an blind.’ Then she laughed.

Yedan narrowed his gaze, and then shot the other woman a second look.

This one straightened from etching the road. She lifted her arms as if to display herself-the tears and holes in her shirt revealing smooth flesh, the round fullness of her breasts. ‘Hungry, Witchslayer?’ She ran a hand through her auburn hair and then smiled invitingly.

‘See what her blood done t’us?’ the first one exclaimed. ‘Ya didn’t nearby kill us. Leff the two a us, an that made us rich wi’ ’er power, and see what it done?’

Yedan Derryg slowly scowled. ‘Pully. Skwish.’

Both women pranced the opening steps to the Shake Maiden Dance.

Growling under his breath, he walked between them, taking care not to scrape the patterns cut into the packed earth of the road.

The one he took to be Pully hurried up to his side. ‘Careful, ya fat walrus, these are highest-’

‘Wards. Yes. You’ve surrounded my sister with them. Why?’

‘She’s sleepin-don’t asturb ’er.’

‘I am the Watch. We need to speak.’

‘Sleeps!’

He halted, stared at the witch. ‘Do you know where we are?’

‘Do you?’

Yedan stared at her. Saw the tremor behind her eyes. ‘If not,’ he said, ‘the hold of the Liosan, then a neighbouring realm within their demesne.’

Pully flinched. ‘The Watch sees and is not blind,’ she whispered.

As he moved to continue to the tent the witch snapped out a hand to stay him. ‘Lissen. Not sleep. Nearby a coma-she didn’t know to slow ’er own blood, just let it pour out-nearby killt ’er.’

He ground his teeth, chewed silently for a moment, and then asked, ‘You bound her wounds?’

‘We did,’ answered Skwish behind them. ‘But mebbe we was too late-’

‘Too busy dancing.’

Neither woman replied.

‘I will look upon my sister.’

‘An then stay close,’ said Pully, ‘an bring up your soljers.’

Yedan pointed to one of the Shake guards. ‘Send that one back to Captains Pithy and Brevity. They are to take command of the rearguard with their company. Then have your lad lead my troop back here.’

Skwish turned away to comply with his commands.

They were flush, yes, these two witches. And frightened. Two forces he could use to ensure their cooperation. That and the guilt they must now be feeling, having drunk deep when-if not for Yedan’s slaying of the others-they would have but managed a sip with the rest shared out among scores of parched rivals. He would keep them down from now on, he vowed. Serving the Royal Family. ‘Pully,’ he now said. ‘If I discover you ever again withholding information from me-or my sister-I will see you burned alive. Am I understood?’

She paled and almost stepped back.

He stepped closer, permitting her no retreat. ‘I am the Watch.’

‘Aye. You are the Watch.’

‘And until the Queen recovers, I command this column-including you and Skwish.’

She nodded.

‘Make certain your sister witch understands.’

‘I will.’

He turned and made his way to the tent. Crouched at the entrance. He hesitated, thinking, and then reached out to tug aside the hide flap-enough to give him a view inside. Hot, pungent air gusted out. She was lying like a corpse, arms at her sides, palms up. He could just make out the black-gut stitchwork seaming the knife cuts. Reaching in, he took one of her bare feet in his hand. Cold, but he could detect the faintest of pulses. He set the foot down, closed the flap, and straightened.

‘Pully.’

She was standing where he’d left her. ‘Yes.’

‘She might not recover left just as she is.’

‘Na, she might not.’

‘She needs sustenance. Wine, meat. Can you force that into her without choking her?’

Pully nodded. ‘Need us a snake tube.’

‘Find one.’

‘Skwish!’

‘I heard.’

Yedan made his way back through the wards. Four horses were tethered to his sister’s supply wagon. He selected the biggest one, a black gelding with a white blaze on its forehead. The beast was unsaddled but bridled. He drew it out from the others and then vaulted on to its back.

Pully was watching him. ‘Can’t ride through the wards!’

‘I don’t mean to,’ he replied, gathering the reins.

The witch stared, baffled. ‘Then where?’

Yedan chewed for a time, and then brought his horse round to face the nearest hills.

Pully shrieked and then leapt to block his path. ‘Not off the road, ya fool!’

‘When I return,’ he said, ‘you will have her awake.’

‘Don’t be stupid! They might not find us at all!’

He thought about dismounting, walking up and cuffing her. Instead, he simply stared down at her, and then said in a low voice, ‘Now who is being the fool, witch? I go to meet them, and if need be, I will slow them down. Long enough for you to get my sister back on her feet.’

‘And then we wait for you?’

‘No. As soon as she is able, you will leave this realm. This time,’ he added, ‘you will help her. You and Skwish.’

‘Of course! We was just careless.’

‘When my troop arrives, inform my sergeant that they are to defend the Queen. Detail them to surround the tent-do not overcrowd them with your wards, witch.’

‘Hold to yourself, Witchslayer,’ said Pully. ‘Hold tight-if your mind wanders, for e’en an instant-’

‘I know,’ Yedan replied.

She moved to one side, then stepped close and set a hand upon the gelding’s head. ‘This one should do,’ she muttered with eyes closed. ‘Wilful, fearless. Keep it collected-’

‘Of that I know far more than you, witch.’

Sighing, she edged back. ‘A commander does not leave his command. A prince does not leave his people.’

‘This one does.’

He kicked his horse into motion. Hoofs thumped on to the hard-packed ground beyond the road.

This was dependent on his sister reviving-enough to lead them away from this infernal place-a prince must choose when he is expendable. Yedan understood the risk. If she did not awaken. If she died, then well and truly his leaving had damned his people-but then, if his sister did not recover, and quickly, then the entire column was doomed anyway. Yes, he could let his own blood, and the witches could take hold of it and do what must be done-but they would also try to enslave him-they could not help it, he knew. He was a man and they were women. Such things simply were. The greater danger was that they would lose control of the power in their hands-two witches, even ancient, formidable ones, were not enough. Ten or twenty were needed in the absence of a Queen to fashion a simulacrum of the necessary focus demanded upon the Road of Gallan. No, he could not rely on Pully and Skwish.

Skwish came up alongside her sister witch. They watched Yedan Derryg riding up the slope of the first hill. ‘That’s bad, Pully. A prince does not-’

‘This one does. Listen, Skwish, we got to be careful now.’

Skwish held up the snake tube. ‘If we left her t’ jus live or die like we planned afirst-’

‘He’ll know-he will cut her open an check.’

‘He ain’t comin’ back-’

‘Then we do need ’er alive, don we? We can’t use ’im like we planned-he’s too ken-he won’t let us take ’im-I lookt up inta his eyes, him on that ’orse, Skwish. His eyes an his eyes, an so I tell ya, he’s gonna be bad turble if he comes back.’