Juliet McKenna - The Gambler's Fortune

“She’s waking up,” said ’Gren suddenly. I saw Aritane feebly wave a hand in the gray light I was startled to realize was the first faint promise of dawn.

“The Sheltya have been looking for her.” Realization sounded hollow in my voice. “If she gets her wits together, they’ll find her.”

“What do we do now?” asked one of the Forest archers, gripping an arrow, knuckles white.

The thought of that black-eyed bastard stepping out of the shadows made me shiver even more than the cold. “We see which way she’s going to jump and if need be we kill her.”

I knelt beside Aritane and rapidly uncovered her ears. “Don’t even think about any enchantments. Try any kind of escape or magic and we’ll kill you, do you understand?” This wasn’t faking sincerity; I meant every word and I gripped her throat to prove it.

Sorgrad laid the naked blade of a dagger across her palm, pressing the edge into the soft angle of finger and thumb. “As Sheltya who forsook her vows, your life is forfeit.”

“Nod if you can hear me,” I commanded. After a moment, the blind head tilted slowly forward.

“Good.” I thought fast. The thassin would be making her very suggestible, so now was the time to show her any alternatives but mine were worthless. “I have spoken to Bryn and Cullam,” I told her. “They introduced me to another Sheltya, one with black-painted eyelids.” Aritane stiffened in involuntary panic, fingers nearly cutting themselves on Sorgrad’s knife.

“So the Elders know exactly what you have done,” said Sorgrad sorrowfully. “Betrayal as well as forswearing, leading those you had vowed to protect into a pointless battle.”

“The Elietimm have no love for the Mountain Men,” I told her. “All they are doing is stirring up trouble to draw off Tormalin forces that might oppose an invasion in Dalasor. They did the same last year, trying to start a war among the Aldabreshin in the far south, setting family against family. The woman who was gulled into helping them there was pressed to death,” I said slowly. “What should we do with you?”

“I can think of a few things,” offered ’Gren with relish. Aritane visibly flinched at the sound of his voice. “A woman who betrays her blood to an ancient enemy deserves a slow and painful death.”

“Won’t the Sheltya give her that?” I asked innocently.

“I imagine so,” said Sorgrad pleasantly. “Given the trouble they’ll be put to untangling this mess, I’d expect examples made of any ringleaders. We’d have done you more mercy by killing you outright.”

“So what shall we do with you? Have you anything to offer us, any talent or knowledge that might make it worth our while to save you?” I was pleased to see a faint tremor in Aritane’s hands.

“We have wizards to defeat the Elietimm,” said Sorgrad, indifferent.

“But we are curious to learn more about Artifice, aetheric magic, true magic I think you call it,” Usara chipped in, finally catching up with the game. “That’s what brought us to the mountains, after all.”

Aritane’s jaw worked helplessly under constricting bandages damp with thassin-stained spit.

“It’s your choice, woman,” I said harshly. “Do we kill you here, do we leave you for the Sheltya to punish, or do we take you somewhere no Sheltya will ever find you?”

“All the powers of Hadrumal will protect you if you share your knowledge and enable us to defeat the Elietimm,” Usara told her earnestly. “They so nearly led your people into a war that would have been the death of them all.”

“It’s starve or eat your seed corn, my girl,” said ’Gren with happy menace.

Aritane held herself tense and stiff beneath the bandages masking her head and the inadequate drape of her shift. A bird whistled a blithe greeting to the sun and the first blush of pink warmed the sky.

This was taking too long. Even with the thassin clogging her wits, it was too much to expect of her. I shivered in the chill breeze and laid a heavy hand on Aritane’s breastbone. “Let’s just kill her. Forsworn once, she can’t be trusted.”

The enchantress twisted in vain beneath the pressure and gripped at the blade of Sorgrad’s dagger. Blood welled up between her long white fingers. He held her grasp tight around the vicious edge. “Would you make a blood vow? Is that what you want?”

The blind head nodded urgently. Sorgrad winked at me and released her hand. He took the dagger and ran the tip lightly across his own palm, just scoring deeply enough to raise a scarlet line beaded with blood. Clasping Aritane’s hand, he nodded at me. “Unwrap her mouth.”

I hesitated but ’Gren knelt to do it, cutting through the linen with his own dagger. “As long as she says the words, she’s bound for life. If she forswears, ’Grad gets to kill her.”

“Sikkar als Misaen, terest Maewelin verath, dolcae en rocar alsoken.”

Aritane echoed Sorgrad’s intense words with difficulty, wits still reeling from the tahn, tongue numbed and lips stained brown as old blood by the thassin.

“Will this hold her? Will she remember it?” I demanded of Sorgrad.

He looked at me, eyes mysterious in the pale light. “It’s a vow to break all vows. If you make it falling down drunk at your coming of age, you still remember it on your deathbed. She has betrayed everything else and all that’s left to her is death at the hands of Sheltya if they find her.”

I shrugged and turned to Usara, who was watching wide-eyed, Bera’s men behind him even more so. “So what’s our best route out of here? We don’t want to run into anyone coming up to join the siege and be mistaken for some halfwitted raiding party.”

“And we have to get her away before any Sheltya come looking.” Sorgrad nodded at Aritane.

Usara smiled. “I’ll contact Planir and get him to work a nexus. He’ll get us back to Hadrumal even if it means rousting half the Council out of bed.”

As a girl, I seldom heard Forest songs in Toremal itself. These days my grandchildren hum them as they go about their daily amusements. This is one of my particular favorites with its hopeful notions for young and old alike.

Once I’d clarified matters with the Sheltya Elders, I realized it was far better that they deal with their own criminals,” I explained. “Given the tension between upland and lowland, any demand that we exact justice would just risk worsening the situation. We agreed that they would punish their guilty and make sure word of the Elietimm plot was spread throughout the Ranges. We won’t face a repetition of this.” I took a sip of the Archmage’s excellent wine.