Jo Clayton: A Gathering Of Stones

“Sorceror, hmm. Did you ever find out what his name was?”

“After, yeh. Danny. Laz was for th’ duration, what he said.”

“Danny. Danny Blue?”

“Dunno. Might be. ‘Staffel trap him, me, a couple more, fill us fulla poison. Say go get Klukesharna, we wipe you clean when y’ give her to us.”

“Not nice.”

“Nah, that tisn’t.” Simms grinned at Maks, went back to watching the fire. “You know ‘im? Danny?”

“I know one Danny Blue. A student of mine once. In a way.”

“You a Sorceror?”

“For my sins. And you’re a Witch.”

“Nah.” Simms sighed, shook his head. “Ne’er got the training.”

“You have the Talent, you could still train.”

“I don’ think so.”

“Well, you have to want it. You got Klukeshama?”

“Yeh, we made one gwychcher team, in and out, slick’s a trick.”

“So Arfon has Klukesharna now.”

“Nah. We got her yeh, but after that, things got outta hand.”

“Danny?”

“Part. There was this putch the ‘Staffel land on us. Din’ need her, don’ know why they bring her in. Their mistake, for sure. Her ‘n Danny, they dump Felsa ‘n me, run for the Asatas. We wake up, go after ‘em. Had to. Poison. We catch up to ‘em this side the Asatas. Felsa nails Danny. He fall out facedown in the snow. I go for the Esmoon. Think I hit her. What happens next I don’ know till later. Felsa and me, we went out, whoosh, blowin’ a candle. We wake up next day half-froze with heads like y’ get after a three-day drunk. We still got no choice, so we take after Danny again. We catch him up. He with this woman, not the Esmoon, don’ know where she come from. No Klukesharna. Felsa gonna to skin him, she don’ believe nothing he says. He says the Esmoon went off with Klukesharna. He says the Esmoon’s no woman, she a demon.”

“Demon? Tell me what she looks like,” Maks’s voice was suddenly taut, compelling, for the first time he was putting the power on Simms.

Simms blinked. “Fahhn silver hair, way she wear it, it go to her waist in long waves, shiny. Blue eyes. Velvet skin. Beautiful and she know it. I ‘spect mos’ men go crazy for her. I ‘spect Danny right ‘bout her, I thought sure I put one shaft, maybe two in ‘er. You know ‘er?”

“Probably not her. But something like her. Go on. What happened next?”

‘It was in this Gsany village, in a bathhouse. We caught ‘em pants down, you’d think we had ‘em flat. Wan’t so. The woman drop a demon on Felsa an’ Danny drop me. Blessings be, old Tungjii stirring the waters, it turn out that the woman has this talisman, Frunzacoache, she use it to leach the poison outta us. Korimenei. Goin’ home and goin’ fast. Taktre Danny with her. Felsa taggin’ along, she don’ believe Danny don’ wanna see Klukesharna or the Esmoon ever again. I go along until I get tired a hurryin’. I leave and that’s how I end up here.”

“Korimenei.” Affection and amusement rumbled in the word. “How’d she look?”

“Like you damn well better not get in her way when she goin’ somewhere.” Simms rubbed his thumb along the seam of the trousers he’d been working on. “She a student too?”

“More like adopted daughter. Apprentice if I survive and she wants it.”

Simms blinked at him. “Cheonea,” he said. “Settsiulaksimin. Sorceror Prime.” He folded his arms across his chest and hugged himself as he watched hope and possibility wither and wash away; that was all he could see for the moment, then he realized what Maks had just said. “Survive?”

“It’s a web they’re weaving, Simms, the demons, the gods and the Great Ones. Arfon and the Ystaffel pumped you full of poison, my set of demons robbed me of my souls, temporarily I hope. They pointed me at Shaddalakh, either I get it or I die. I’m dying now. When the body’s empty, it begins to fall apart. No healer or herb doctor can stop the decay.” He shook his head. “They send me out and at the same time rob me of my best tools. Without my earthsoul I have no Shamruz body to journey for me, I can’t walk the realities or summon demons.”

Simms nodded, thinking he knew what Maks was saying. “Yeh. Y’ c’d fetch a demon an’ send it t’ get th’ talisman.”

Maks laughed, a happy shout that embraced Simms and invited him to share the joke. “N00000, no,” he said, “never let a demon near that much power, you could end up dancing to the demon’s tune rather than the other way about.”

“I s’pose. Yeh, thinkin”bout Esmoon, yeh.” Simms scowled at the fire, wrestling with himself; he hated the thought of messing with demons again, but his impulse toward spending himself for the man who attracted him so fiercely won out over his fears. He turned to Maks. “Take me with you. I c’n maybe help. Reason the ‘Staffel land on me an’ Felsa, we the best thieves in Arsuid. Tor y’ I c’d read walls, stones, dirt. I c’n see witchtraps, help y’

‘void ‘em. I c’n sing ghosts t’ sleep. Tickle locks. Lots more.”

“Simms…

“Y’ don’ want me, a’ right.”

“It’s not that. The Magus knows that someone is coming. He’s one of those who reads could-be nodes like other men read print. You could get swallowed up and spat out, it’s not worth it, my friend.”

“Y’ don’ know, Addryd Sorcecieur.” He gazed at his hand, stroked his fingertips up and down his thigh. “Goin’ in the Henanolee, that was dangerous too. It was the bes’ time in m’ whole life. I was workin’ on top of it, ne’er felt so full so strong so g0000d. I was scared t’ bone but e’en that felt good. An’ what’s it matter if I die? What am I? Jus’ a thief. No one give a shit.”

“No Addryd. Maks.” He leaned toward Simms, touched his face. “What’s this nonsense? Not just a thief, I have your word for it, best in Arsuid.” His hand was warm and smooth, Simms leaned into the curve of it, it was comforting and exciting. “You’d best keep out of this, little witch.”

Simms turned his head, kissed Maks’ palm. He smiled dreamily at the big man. “No,” he said. “No… command me… anythin’ but go ‘way.”

“And if I commanded you to climb to the roof here and jump into the wind?” The voice was darkness and light, caressing him, stirring him to the seat of his souls. It was fully there, the compelling, seducing Voice of the Prime.

Simms drew away a little, steadied his breathing before he spoke. “I w’d prob’ly do ‘t. But I sh’d wanna know why f irst.”

Maks threw back his head and laughed, the sound filling the room, overpowering the storm and everything else. “Good, good. Never jump without knowing why. And if I said, love me, would you want to know why you should do such a thing?”

“No. I don’ need t’ ask ‘bout what already is.”

On the fourth morning they dug out and found the bliT7Ard had been more blow than snow. Maks hitched up his frisky, rambunctious mules, Simms saddled Neddio and they started south toward the spur of the Asatas where Tok Kinsa was, walled city walled in by snag-tooth mountains, secret city, the ways in warded and hidden from all but the select. There was about six inches of snow on the ground and no road, so the going was difficult even for the huge-wheeled dulic, but they made fair time and by the end of the week had reached the end of the grass. Maks left the dulic in a dry wash and turned one of the mules loose, loaded his gear on the other and prepared to walk into the mountains. Simms followed, leading Neddio.

The trek was hard on Maks; he faded visibly as each day passed.

Simms ached for him; he was filled with frustration and fury at the gods, the demons, everyone, everything responsible for Maks’ hurting. In Arsuid, Simms had pretended to be loose and easy, that was what people expected from him, what his lovers wanted; he lost them again and again because he cared too much and it frightened them. So much passion, so much need demanded a response they were unwilling or incapable of giving. He was feeling his way warily with Maks; he knew so little that was real about the man, only legends and legends lie. Maks seemed to like him, that was a wonderful thing, but Simms saw it as fragile as a soapbubble, a careless touch could destroy it. Maks was willing to love him, though not always able, especially after a hard day’s climbing. But he’d hold Simms anyway, caress him; he made Simms fell wanted, needed. Loved.