Violette Malan - The Sleeping God

The first book in the Dhulyn and Parno series, 2007

Thanks go first to Joshua Bilmes and Sheila Gilbert for their hard work. Without their questions and input, and most especially their patience, this book could not have been finished. To my in-laws, Marj and Don Musselman for their constant support; my friend Barb Wilson-Orange for her help with earlier versions; to Jay Ridler for his insights into military and social infrastructures, any errors are mine. Likewise thanks to Elizabeth Moon and Zdzislaw Sikora, for a wonderful fencing demonstration, and for answering my questions; again, any errors are mine. To Tanya Huff and Fiona Patton for their encouragement and example, and for reminding me to enjoy myself. Jenn Shannon, and Brian and Marlene McCracken for their encouragement and support beyond the call. The Water Babes, the most courageous book club in the world.

The right to have a character named after her was bought at silent auction for Larissa Landon. Your mother said a bad guy, Larissa, so I hope you don’t mind.

PARNO LIONSMANE STEPPED OFF the end of the ship’s gang-plank with deliberation. He and his Partner, Dhulyn Wolfshead, had only been aboard the Catseye for the four-day trip from the Isle of Cabrea, but it was enough for muscles to begin to adapt, and it wouldn’t do for people to see a Mercenary Brother uncertain on his feet. Parno headed down the pier to where Dhulyn stood with the horses, his big gray gelding Warhammer and her own spotted mare Bloodbone, rubbing their faces and caressing their ears while they became accustomed once again to the feel of land underneath their hooves.

The horses showed every sign of putting their sea voyage behind them. As Parno walked up, Bloodbone was snuffling Dhulyn’s shoulder, but both horses were alert, flicking their ears, bobbing their heads, and generally taking an interest in what was going on around them, as battle-trained mounts tended to do.

Dhulyn was doing the same, though in her own peculiar way. Still holding fast to the horses’ bridles, she was watching a group of children play a skipping game farther along the pier, not far from where she stood. Having had no real childhood herself, it had always seemed to Parno natural that Dhulyn showed a great curiosity in the childhoods of others. She smiled as he neared her, her eyes still watching the children’s game.

I’ll tell her later, he decided. The news he’d just learned from the Catseye ’s captain was disturbing; just how disturbing would have to wait until the comparative privacy of their inn. There was a surprising number of people about in Navra’s harbor, considering most travelers were still waiting out the last of the winter storms.

“It’s the same rhyme,” Dhulyn said as he neared her. “That sweeping rhyme the children were singing in the street in Destila.”

“You sure? Those kids were playing a game with blindfolds.”

“Nevertheless, it’s the same rhyme, same cadence, same consonance. How do these rhymes and games get transplanted from one place to another?”

Parno shrugged. Dhulyn had spent a year in a Scholars’ Library before taking her final vows to the Mercenary Brotherhood, and she’d never lost the habit of making these scholarly observations. “Adults like you see them, I would suppose, and carry them home for their children, like new toys.”

“It would be interesting to trace the songs and the games back, try to find the point of origin from which they spread.”

“You think such a point could be found?” Parno said, smiling. His years with Dhulyn had taught him that many countries of the eastern continent told folktales and stories of amazing similarity.

“Unless it goes back to the time of the Caids, then it will appear to have sprung up everywhere at once.” Dhulyn shrugged one shoulder. “Ah well, a dissertation subject for some Scholar, no doubt. And, meanwhile, here we are back in the land of the Sleeping God.”

“The Sleeping God’s worshiped everywhere,” Parno said, taking Warhammer’s rein from her.

“But here, on the Letanian Peninsula, he is the first god, is he not?”

“The Brotherhood recognizes all gods,” he reminded her.

“And all gods recognize the Brotherhood.” She turned fully to look at him. “I told the first mate where to send our packs. Has the place changed very much? Do you remember the way to the inn you’ve been telling me about?”

“What do you think,” he said, grinning as he took a firm grip on Warhammer’s bridle.

“I think you got lost in our cabin last night.”

Parno swung, Dhulyn ducked, and the children looked over from their game, excitement plain in their faces-as was the disappointment when no fight broke out. Dhulyn, grinning for the benefit of the children, tilted her chin toward the end of the pier.

They led the horses away from the Catseye, dodging seamen and dock workers loading and unloading from the ships and fishing boats tied up along the pier. Warhammer and Bloodbone were spoiling for exercise, but the streets close to the docks proved to be so uneven that Dhulyn suggested they continue afoot. Parno was just leading the way down a narrow lane when his Partner froze.

“Did you hear that?” she said, her rough voice unusually loud in the cold air.

“The market?” Parno said dryly, bracing his feet as Warhammer, not as well trained as Dhulyn’s Bloodbone, shied slightly, pulling him forward.

Dhulyn held up one finger to silence him and listened again, eyes narrowed, head on an angle. Parno shrugged, wishing he’d worn his heavier cloak, and waited for Dhulyn to agree with him. The main market, if he remembered correctly, was off to the east, closer to the saltworks, but the barrows and stalls of the fish market, the one that served the docks and the ships, could be seen off to the other side of the pier they’d just left. Even this late in the afternoon, the buzz of the buyers and sellers, the calls of the merchants hawking their wares, even the sound of an optimistic flute, were still clear in the crisp air. But if Dhulyn thought she’d heard something else…

“There!” Dhulyn’s head jerked up and she swung herself into the saddle, urging Bloodbone with her knees into an opening between two houses, turning away from the docks. Parno was mounted and only half a length behind his Partner before Bloodbone’s tail disappeared from view.

The alleys between the houses and buildings in this quarter of Navra were none too clean, and the streets were not much better, Parno found as he followed Dhulyn out into a wider avenue. The freezing and thawing of early spring had heaved the cobbles and paving stones and left them slick underfoot. Even the dirt lanes were more than half slippery mud. Not the best conditions to be racing your horses, but Parno knew better than to argue with his Partner. He ducked an overhead sign with a swallowed curse. He was willing to wager practically anything he owned that it wouldn’t be her horse that went down as she rode it much too fast around the next tight corner.

And he still had not heard anything out of the ordinary.

The laboring breath and clattering hooves of their horses made enough noise that the few people they encountered had plenty of time to get out of their way. Market day it might be, but away from the market itself and the busy areas around the docks, most townspeople finished their business early in weather like this; the day was turning cold, and the sky promised snow. One tall old man, well-wrapped in a red wool cloak, looked up in surprise as Dhulyn Wolfshead galloped past him and called out angrily, not noticing the tattoos of their Mercenary’s badges, even though both she and Parno were bareheaded from habit.