David Coe - The Sorcerer's Plague

A voice in his mind screamed for him to leave the shelter, to find some other way to win his freedom from this man and his people. There was just so much he was willing to risk, and he had long since grown weary of having E'Menua outthink him at every turn. Had it not been for the two merchants, he would have simply walked out into the rain. But though the two Eandi meant little to him, he couldn't throw their lives away. Cresenne, who knew him so well, had told him as much the night before.

"You won't breathe a word of this to Cresenne, and while I'm gone, you'll do everything necessary to keep her and Bryntelle safe."

E'Menua's expression didn't change. "And if I don't agree?"

Before Grinsa could respond, D'Pera laid a hand on the a'laq's arm. They shared a look, and after a moment the a'laq faced him again.

"Yes, very well. You have my word that she'll be safe, and she won't be told of our agreement." He hesitated, but only for an instant. "She's bound to learn of it eventually, though."

"Only if I fail," Grinsa said. "And I have no intention of failing."

The a'laq nodded and laughed, though good-naturedly. "Very well, Forelander." He grew serious once more. "You'll take Q'Daer with you, as well as the merchants, and all four of you will have mounts."

"Does it have to be Q'Daer? Couldn't I go with L'Norr instead?"

E'Menua grinned. It seemed he knew of their dislike for one another. Perhaps he'd even heard of their encounter the previous day. "Q'Daer is the older of the two," he said. "It's his place to make such a journey."

Grinsa nodded. He didn't relish the idea of being stuck with the young Weaver for so long, but he was learning quickly that Fal'Borna customs left little room for negotiation. And however much he would have preferred a different companion, he knew that Q'Daer would be far less happy about it than he. There was some small consolation in that.

"All right. You'll provision us with food and gold?"

"The merchants will. They've ample stores of both, and if we have to give you a bit more food, we'll make certain that they compensate us."

Grinsa could see the logic in that. "Someone will tell me when the others are ready to go?"

"Of course."

The gleaner nodded. "Very well. Thank you, A'Laq."

He started to leave, but E'Menua spoke his name, stopping him.

"You may not believe this," the a'laq said, as Grinsa looked back at him, "but I hope you succeed. If what the dark-eyes say about this woman is true, she must be hunted down. And if it's our sept that manages to kill her, it will increase our standing in Thamia."

Perhaps he should have been grateful to the a'laq for saying this, but all he could think was that he didn't give a damn about the glory of his sept. "I'll do what I can," he said, and left the z'kal.

The rain had grown stronger, as had the wind.

"The a'laq will be wanting to speak with you," Grinsa said to Q'Daer as he stepped past the man on his way back to his shelter. "What about?" the young Weaver called after him.

Grinsa didn't answer.

He found Cresenne on their pallet, nursing Bryntelle. She sat up as he entered the shelter, her eyes searching his face.

"What did he say?" she asked.

"He agreed to our terms."

She frowned, laying Bryntelle against her shoulder and patting her back. "Just like that?"

"He wasn't completely happy about it, but yes, he agreed." Cresenne shook her head. "I don't believe you."

"Cresenne-"

"Tell me all of it, Grinsa. You're leaving me alone with these people, and that's fine. I as much as told you to. But I deserve to know all of it."

He sat, exhaling slowly. "It's nothing we shouldn't have expected. If I succeed in finding the woman and, I suppose, killing her, we're free to go and the merchants will be spared. If I fail, we stay here."

"And?"

He started to answer, but she held up a hand, silencing him. He could see her piecing it together. At last she began to nod.

"And you take a wife," she said. "That would be the one other thing E'Menua would want. You have to be joined to a Weaver, don't you?" "It's not going to come to that."

"But that's what he wants."

"Yes," Grinsa admitted, feeling as if he had betrayed her. "I can go back to him if you want, tell him I won't be going after all."

She shook her head. "No. You're right: We should have expected it. They were going to insist on this eventually anyway. Otherwise there's no point in making us stay." She smiled bitterly. "You're most valuable to them as a studhorse."

"I'm not certain how to take that."

Cresenne laughed, but a moment later she was sobbing, tears coursing down her smooth cheeks. Immediately, Bryntelle began to cry as well. Grinsa put his arms around Cresenne and kissed the top of her head as she fussed over the baby.

"I don't have to go, Cresenne," he whispered. "There are other ways to get away from here."

But she shook her head. "It's not that. I mean, I don't want you to go, but we'll get through it."

"Then why are you crying?"

She shrugged. "It wasn't supposed to be like this. We came to the Southlands to get away from the fighting and the danger and all the rest. I just wanted to make a life here, and instead we're being forced apart again, just like before."

He stroked her fine hair. "I know. I thought it would be different, too."

She wiped the tears from her eyes impatiently and looked up at him, kissing him gently on the lips. "You should be getting ready to go. I imagine they'll be coming for you soon."

"They can wait, if they have to."

"No. The sooner you get going, the sooner you'll be back." She forced a smile. "We'll be all right." She held up Bryntelle, who had also stopped crying. "See? We're better already." She kissed him again. "Go on. Get ready."

He nodded, though he didn't stand just yet. Instead, he held out a finger to Bryntelle. She took hold of it in her tiny fist and leaned forward, trying to put all of it-his finger and her fist-in her mouth.

"We'll find her quickly," he muttered, staring at the baby. "I swear we will."

Cresenne nodded. "Good."

He forced himself off the pallet, grabbed his travel sack, and began to fill it-a second knife, his flint, a length of rope, a change of clothes, an overshirt, a skin he could use for water.

When he was done, he sat again beside Cresenne, his shoulder touching hers, but neither of them spoke. They watched Bryntelle and they waited. Before long, someone called for him from just outside the z'kal. He and Cresenne shared a look.

"Gods keep you safe and guide you back to us," she whispered. "I love you."

They kissed one last time. Then he stood and left the shelter.

The rain had slackened, but the wind still blew and the sky remained dark and hard as slate.

Q'Daer and the two merchants were already mounted. They had brought Grinsa the great bay he and Cresenne bought in Yorl. He tied his travel sack to the saddle and swung himself onto the mount.

He looked around briefly, expecting to see E'Menua come to see them off. But the rest of the sept seemed to be ignoring them, as if they were strangers, or wraiths.

"We have everything?" Grinsa asked, meeting Q'Daer's gaze.

The young Weaver barely looked at him. "Yes," he said, kicking at the flanks of his grey horse.

Grinsa didn't follow. Instead, he called the man's name, forcing him to halt and wheel his mount.

"It wasn't my idea to have you come along," he said. "It was the a'laq's. If I had my way, I wouldn't be doing this at all, and I certainly wouldn't be riding with you."

Q'Daer stared at him a moment. Then he nodded, and started off again, northward, into that harsh wind and away from the sept. Grinsa and the merchants followed.

For some time, they rode in silence, Q'Daer some distance ahead, Grinsa next, and the two merchants just behind him. Finally, the younger Eandi asked, "Aren't you and the other white-hair afraid that we'll try to escape?"