"I hope so. I feel so rootless." She hesitated, then asked, "Do you think Archer is right? That I may be a threat?"

  "I feel no evil in you, Lady. But I think it may be necessary for us to protect you."

  "I don't want anyone to get hurt on my account." He nodded, his eyes as dark as a moonless night. "That may not be your choice, Lady."

  "I know." She stared glumly at a spot between her mount's ears. "Unfortunately."

  * * *

  Chapter 11

  Giri rode out to scout when they made camp just before nightfall. When he returned, it was dark, and a frigid wind was blowing out of the north. With no trees to block it, it whipped around them and cut through their clothing like an icy scythe. They huddled close to the firepit Tom and Ratha had dug, waiting for one of Sara's miraculous stews to finish simmering. But even the delight of smelling the stew was denied them as the bitter wind snatched the aromas and carried them away into the night.

  After seeing to his mount, Giri joined them.

  "The early winter," he said as he knelt by the fire and rubbed his hands together to warm them, "has taken its toll here, as well. I found abandoned farmsteads and crops dead in the fields."

  Archer muttered a word that sounded like an oath.

  "But as near as I can tell, no one follows us. Those who attacked us in the woods evidently have no stomach for following us into the open."

  Archer nodded. "We might thank the wolves for that." His gaze fell on Tess, once again making her uneasy, as if she had committed some sin she could not remember. Perhaps, for this man, her simple existence was sin enough.

  "They may have ridden past us into Derda," Archer said. "Those that remain. We'll need to keep a sharp eye out for them while we try to discover who sent them."

  Giri nodded. "Although, as time passes, I find myself more interested in why they were sent than in who sent them."

  "I suspect the answer to both questions lies in the same place, my friend."

  With their stomachs eventually full of hot fish stew, they all lay down to sleep as best they could in the cold. After a little while, Tess heard a rustle near her and opened her eyes to find that Sara was coming to lie beside her.

  "Cold?" Tess asked, keeping her voice low, so as not to disturb the others.

  "Aye, but who isn't?" Sara whispered back. She lay down facing Tess, and between them a small pocket of warmth began to grow. "I told you how my mother disappeared?"

  "Yes. I'm so sorry about that, Sara."

  "'Twas a long time ago, Tess. But...I grow troubled."

  "About what?"

  "It's..." Sara's whisper trailed off into a sigh. "You will think I'm mad."

  "I don't see how you can be any more mad than I am."

  Sara's smile gleamed in the starlight. "You are not mad at all."

  "Then neither are you."

  A soft little laugh escaped Sara. "Well then, I shall tell you. But you will think me mad. It's that...well...the farther we travel?"

  "Yes?"

  "The more I... feel... my mother is still alive."

  The words came out in a rapid rush; then Sara fell silent, as if awaiting judgment.

  Tess reached out and gripped Sara's hand. "I hope she is."

  "I know I'm being foolish..."

  Tess squeezed her hand. "I won't say that, Sara, and neither should you. In fact...in fact, I've had the feeling off and on that someone is calling to me. We may both be experiencing different versions of the same thing."

  "Whatever it is," Sara said almost inaudibly, "it must be some form of magick. We need to keep together, Tess. It might be some evil calling to us."

  "I know. But I have no way to judge. Without memory..."

  Now it was Sara who squeezed her hand. "I have memory, and yours will return. I'm sure of it. But if we keep together and watch out for one another, we'll be all right."

  Clinging to that thought, and to each other's hands they finally fell asleep.

  Tess's sleep was fitful, however, filled with strange images of golden threads all crisscrossing each other, and voices without faces that called her name. One face did float into her dreams, however. It was a face almost identical to Archer's, yet his hair was blond, and the lines that etched his face were not those of sorrow and weariness, but of something darker and more frightening. He was looking for something, and Tess curled herself into an invisible ball, terrified that he might see her.

  Then the voice called to her again, this time gentle and reassuring. "Tess..."

  And with that she somehow fell into a more restful slumber.

  By midmorning it was evident that something was seriously wrong in Derda. The walls of the city came into view, but around them were huddled dark masses, almost as if in a siege, and smoke seemed to be billowing from somewhere to the east, carrying with it the smell of burnt flesh. When the north wind allowed the smell to reach them, the horses grew nervous and whinnied as they tried to sidle away from it. The riders pulled the corners of their cloaks over their faces, trying to keep the stench out.

  Finally Archer drew rein, and everyone stopped behind him.

  "Something is terribly wrong here," he said. "I'm not sure we should go any closer without first scouting."

  "Have they been attacked?" Tom asked.

  "I think not. Judging by the abandoned farmsteads Giri found, I suspect famine has driven many more to the city than the city can contain. There may be illness..."

  Tess spurred forward, suddenly sure of herself, as she hadn't been since the moment of awakening. "If there is illness, I must go. I can help."

  Archer studied her, as if trying to read the future in her face. At last he spoke. "I cannot allow you to go alone." Then he looked around at the rest of the party. "But you must all be aware that if pestilence has struck the city, we have no protection."

  "Keep your mouth and nose covered with your cloak," Tess said. "And wash your hands any time you touch something. But if many are sick, then helping hands are too few."

  "I know something of healing," Sara said. "I will go with Tess."

  "I, too," said Tom, who would rather have his head cleaved from his shoulders than be separated from Sara.

  "Then we all go," said Archer.

  Ratha and Giri nodded agreement.

  Tess looked around at them all and felt her heart swell with warmth toward them. She had been blessed to fall in with these people. Singularly blessed.

  "Thank you," she said. "Thank you." Then she spurred her mount toward the city, knowing nothing else but that she must help the ill.

  The picture grew uglier the closer to Derda they drew. Around the walls a tent city had sprung into being, but these were no weather tight tents. They were built of pieces of cloth strung over ropes, or raised in the middle by various implements. None was tall enough for a man to stand beneath, and the ground all around had been trampled to dust and mud.

  The faces of those occupying the tent city were hopeless and silent, and more gaunt than they should have been.

  "There is something grievously wrong," Archer said. "Even with the barren fields here, there should be food aplenty. Even untilled, the rich soil of the Basin grows more in a year than could be consumed by all the Bozandari peoples. No one should be starving, except perhaps by men's greed."

  It grew worse the closer they came to the city's open gates. Death carts began to pass them, with bodies laden high, headed toward the smoky area in the east.

  Finally Archer bent in his saddle and stopped one of the men leading a cart. "Friend,"he said, "what terrible thing has happened here?"

  "The early winter. Famine." The man's gaze was hollow, his tone flat. "Our fields are barren, and that which we did harvest carries death within it. Our stores are empty." He looked at the party, one after another. "Take my advice. Leave now. This place has fallen into evil times."

  But the party continued toward the gate, and Tess felt sorrow weighing ever heavier on her heart as she saw children too listless to play simply lying or sitting beside mothers who didn't move.

  Nor did matters improve within the city. Every street was lined with beggars who held out bowls and pled for something to eat.

  "I would empty our packs," Sara said, "but none of what we carry can be eaten without cooking."

  "Save what we have," said Archer. "We'll find a better way of using it to help."

  To Tess's eye, it seemed that the primary problem was starvation and its accompanying illnesses, but not a pestilence of any kind. Yet. That would come soon enough if nothing were done to improve matters.

  They reached an inn at last, and there found not only rooms, but an innkeeper and his family who seemed to be avoiding the starvation that surrounded them. The sight of the portly man's good health sparked Tess's anger, but she bit back words of reproof.

  He greeted them warmly, apparently glad to see paying guests. "No one comes to Derda anymore, since the famine," he told them as he bustled them upstairs. "Only the starving in search of food."

  "It seems," said Archer," that the situation has grown dire very fast."

  The innkeeper paused as he was unlocking a door. "Aye, 'twas fast indeed. As near as I can tell, the distant field hands were the first to fall ill from their harvest. And without them to work... We started living on our stores and whatever the local farms might produce. But then came the killing frosts. By that time we had little enough left in our stores, and the people began to come from everywhere seeking food."

  He opened the door and led them into a private parlor. "The room for the ladies is through that door." He pointed to a door off the parlor. "The gentlemen will be across the hall." He handed them keys. "I can feed you, but only lightly. The repasts I used to serve my guests are no longer possible."

  Archer nodded. "Does anyone know why the crops are making people sick?"

  The innkeeper hesitated and cast a nervous eye about. "I'm sure I don't know. Perhaps someone else might have an idea." Then he slipped out quickly, as if he feared another question.

  Archer turned to Ratha and Giri. "Take care of our mounts, and bring all our possessions up here. Then you and I will begin to search out this mystery."

  The Anari nodded and left the parlor. Tom went along to assist.

  Archer turned to Tess and Sara. "Ladies, please remain here for now. We need to know more before you can safely help anyone."

  Tess started to protest, but Sara touched her arm. "We'll remain here. For now."

  After Archer had left, Tess turned to Sara. "These people need help now!"

  "I know," Sara said. "But what can we do with any surety if we know nothing of the situation? And..."She hesitated. "Tess? Don't you feel it?"

  It? Tess flopped into a nicely padded chair near the fire, seeking the first real warmth she had felt since leaving Whitewater. Sara took the chair opposite her, and for a while the two of them simply soaked up the heat until they felt warm enough to doff their cloaks.

  Closing her eyes as the warmth began to relax her entire body, Tess tried to empty her mind of all the concerns that had filled it since she first saw the state of affairs in Derda. For someone who'd had little enough to occupy her thoughts not so long ago, that proved to be surprisingly difficult.

  The call she had been feeling seemed to have vanished, and she was surprised to realize that she missed it. In some strange way it had been almost comforting.

  But in that moment she realized that something else had taken its place. Not as obvious as what she had felt before, as if the oily blackness had developed some finesse. But it was there, lurking in some tiny place, and from it radiated a darkness that seemed to shadow this entire town.

  Her eyes popped open. "My God! What is it?"

  "'Tis the worst evil I've ever felt," Sara replied. "What has happened here was done for a purpose."

  Tess rose from her chair and strode to the mullioned window, looking out on the streets below. Everywhere her eye met horror. "Who could do such a thing? And why?"

  Sara had no answers. A few minutes later the men returned, laden with saddles and packs, which they set in a corner of the room. All of them then headed for the fire, seeking the same warmth that Tess and Sara had.

  "Something unnatural is involved here," Archer said, echoing the thoughts Sara and Tess had shared. "It is as if the earth itself decided to kill these people. They speak of farmers around the basin baking bread that burned their bellies and brought sores to their faces. Yet when Ratha and Giri and I passed through here just a few weeks ago, on our way to Whitewater, it seemed a land of plenty."

  Tess spoke. "Perhaps the food is being stolen? Taken downriver?"

  Archer shook his head. "Lady Tess, imagine rippling field upon rippling field, for as far as the eye can see in any direction, broken only by the occasional farmhouse or village. That is the Great Basin. In the summertime, it is like looking upon a great, pale green sea. All of the Bozandari together could no more steal it than they could steal a mountain, or an ocean."

  Giri spoke. "It seems we may have passed through too soon, my lord."

  It was the first time Tess had ever heard anyone call Archer that, and it seemed that for a moment he stiffened, as if rejecting the title. Or as if concerned what others might think upon hearing it.

  "Mayhap," he said finally. "Certainly we are out of touch with what has happened in these parts. Perhaps malignant disease spread among the fields, malice bred into the crops themselves. Nothing else could destroy so great a bounty."

  He paused, as if tracing the deadly plague in his mind's eye. "It would have begun along the rim, where the earth rises up into the hill country. The harvest comes early there, brought in before the cold strips the fields. Those who grew sick would have moved into the valley for help, riding the tide as the disease washed over the fields. Sooner or later, they would all arrive here, those that survived. Too many hungry mouths, too little food. And the healthy fields that remained would have been left to wither for want of hands to glean them."

  "And," said Ratha, "the people here could not have prepared their larders for the winter. The wagons came laden not with rich, warm grains, but with sick, hungry mouths."

  Archer squatted before the fire and stirred it, causing the flames to leap higher and renewed warmth to spread through the room. "The thing that troubles my mind, however, is the scale of it all. Crops blight, yes, but not in such great numbers, and not so quickly. Something swept these people in here...to die."

  Sara and Tess exchanged looks, but for some reason neither of them mentioned the feeling they had, that some dark power loomed over Derda.

  Perhaps they both felt foolish about talking of such things. Or perhaps they feared that mentioning their feelings too often would draw unwanted attention from the looming darkness.

  Tess was not sure why, but her tongue remained motionless, as if cloven to the roof of her mouth.

  * * *

  Chapter 12

  Early in the morning, the men set out in various directions to learn what they could of affairs in Derda and the surrounding area. Archer's stated mission was to visit the blacksmith who had shod the horses of the brigands who attacked the caravan.

  Left on their own at the inn, Tess and Sara decided they weren't about to sit by the fire and do nothing.

  "After all," Tess said, "I was the one who insisted we come into town to help these people. In conditions like these, with so many malnourished people crowded together, it's only a matter of time before disease starts to sweep through the population...if it hasn't already."

  Sara agreed wholeheartedly. "Let's go out and see if we can find some other women who want to help us."

  "We need to teach them," Tess agreed. "Sterile procedures. Cleanliness." Her own knowledge of the subject surprised her momentarily, given that she could remember nothing about her past.

  Then she realized that there were many things she remembered how to do, from speaking to clothing herself, even though she could remember no particular details of her past.

  And for one moment, with a deep pang, she remembered the child's life she had tried to save. Perhaps this time she could accomplish more.

  They spoke first to the innkeeper about what they hoped to do. He proved surprisingly helpful.

  "'Tis a good idea," he said at once when he heard their plan. "I've been worrying mightily about all the vagrants in the streets, but mostly about the young ones. If disease starts among them, none of us will be safe."

  A pragmatic, self-centered view, but useful nonetheless.

  He drew them a little map on the back of a tattered piece of parchment. "Go see this woman, Mistress Alconti. She's known as a healer and will probably be able to help you get started."

  The streets were even worse than Tess remembered from the evening before, perhaps because people had come out from the places where they had been hiding from the chill and now sought the sun with fervor. They wouldn't get much of it, for already dark clouds were building to the northeast, promising either frigid rain or snow before the day was over.

  As they walked farther into the center of the city, the homeless began to thin out noticeably. It seemed that some effort was being made to keep the streets clear of them near the larger homes and businesses. Though never a beautiful city, Tess could tell it had once been a scene to warm heart and hearth. Thatched roofs smeared with pitch glistened deep yellow against the sunlight over sturdy, stone cottages. Like Whitewater, every home had its garden, and perhaps only that had kept these people alive thus far. Nearer the city center, the homes were larger, and likewise their gardens. The people here might well have grown enough to keep their families alive through the winter, if they could ignore the suffering of those around them, and if their guards could prevent the poor from stealing. So far, they had managed. It was as if they had passed through a gate beyond which the ill and starving were not permitted.

  "Typical," muttered Tess under her breath. Though how she knew it was not unusual for the wealthier to protect themselves from the sight of the poor, she could not say.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24