By the Sword (9 page)

The end of the tunnel was considerably brighter than the tunnel itself; Tarma blinked a little when she led the mare out into the stable proper. As Ward had advised, Kethry was already at work; she'd already saddled her mount and loaded it with packs of medicinal gear. Kethry was no fool; she'd changed into one of her old traveling outfits; knee-length hooded robe and breeches, both of soft, but sturdy beige wool. Now the sorceress had gotten her gray warsteed to kneel so that she could mount the mare's saddle. While Tarma might still be able to mount unaided, these days Keth couldn‘t, and made no pretenses about the fact.

:We are not what we were, mind-mate,:
Warrl acknowledged ruefully. He had flung himself down beside the cool stone wall where he lay panting after his run. Now that he was in the light, he was even more impressive; not even a wolfhound or the grasscats of the Dhorisha Plains could best him for size. He could—and had—snapped a man's leg in half with those formidable jaws.

“Your timing couldn't have been better,
she‘enedra,”
the sorceress said, as her mare heaved herself to her feet. “I saw you were almost home when I checked this morning, then when I sensed the trouble in the valley, I checked on you first, and caught your little conversation with Kerowyn.” She checked all the fastenings on the packs as she spoke, making sure nothing was going to come loose. “I'm going to the Keep to see what I can do—”

“Don't worry, I just came down here to tell you I'll be playing guardian to the girl,” Tarma interrupted. “You didn't have to ask.”

“She isn't as helpless as you might think,” Kethry said, knotting her long silver hair up on the back of her head and pinning it there securely. She turned her emerald eyes on her partner, and Tarma for once could not read them.

“So?” She raised an eyebrow.

“I—Need woke for her.”

Silence.
Four daughters, a host of granddaughters and fosterlings—not to mention all the students—not one of which woke even a spark from that piece of tin. Dear and most precious gods. For once the damned thing picked a good time to poke its nose in!

Tarma took a deep breath, quite well aware that her oathbound sister was waiting for some kind of reaction. “She's neither fighter nor mage. So what's it going to do for her?”

Kethry wheeled her mare and got her head pointed toward the tunnel. “Whatever it has to. Protect her from magic, make her fight like a hellcat. Probably more than that, things I didn't know it could do. All I do know for certain is that with the lives of not one, but
two
young women depending on it, Need is going to stretch to its limits.”

Tarma considered that for a moment. “In that case, I'd better get on my way. And young Lordan isn't getting any better for you standing there.”

When Kethry didn't move, Tarma frowned. “There's something you're not telling me.”

The sorceress grimaced. “I think Rathgar was betrayed. I told Kero that whoever hired the mage and the bandits to pull this raid was probably one of Rathgar's enemies, but I lied to her. I think it was Dierna's uncle. That Reichert bastard.”

Tarma blinked—and swore an oath strong enough to make the witch-lights dim for a moment. “It all makes sense, doesn't it—the fact that the raiders knew about the feast tonight and that almost everyone would be unarmed. That they knew
where
everything was. And that bastard has wanted the Keep since I can't remember when. I didn't like Rathgar, but he deserved better than that.”

“ ‘That bastard' probably wouldn't be too upset if Dierna's father happened to die and the collateral lands came to him either,” Kethry pointed out grimly. “Basically, I think you'd better stay alert for other surprises—and if you can find anything linking him to this massacre, bring it back.”

Tarma nodded. “I'll keep my nose to the ground.”

Kethry's troubled eyes cleared, and she urged her horse down the tunnel. “That takes a lot of worry off my mind. I'll go do what I can for Lordan.”

“And I'll keep our young swordbearer in one piece.” Tarma mounted up, much to the displeasure of her horse, and followed her out into the night. “And may the gods ride with all of us.”

The moon was down, but Tarma had no problem following Warrl. Any time she lost him, he'd be sure to set her right with acidic delight. She was far more concerned with her mare's footing in the uncertain light. One false step and the rescue could be ended with a broken foreleg. Shin‘a'in-bred horses were damned canny, but accidents could still happen to anyone.

She was glad now she'd left her old mare back with the Clan two years ago, and had taken a younger beast. This was the fourth warsteed to carry the name “Hellsbane,” but she was the best so far. Though lazier by nature than the other three, she had keener senses, a superior level of good sense, and an uncanny knack for path-finding.

Warrl was up to his usual high standards; despite a confused trail, he had picked up Kero's track with very little problem. He might be as old as Tarma, but there was nothing wrong with his nose.

I can imagine how that girl is finding the bandits' trail, though.
That had her sorely puzzled.
She's a good enough hunter, but not that good, and not by night
—

:The sword?:
Warrl suggested absently.
:Kethry said that we don't know all it can do. We've never seen it in the hands of someone entirely untrained.:

Tarma snarled a little at the thought of the blade that had caused her and her
she‘enedra
so much trouble, and agreed.
I'll tell you, Furface, I've never been entirely happy about that blade. It has too much of a mind of its own. Damn thing came awfully close to getting Keth killed a time or two.

:The Hawkbrothers call it a “spirit-sword,”:
Warrl reminded her, as he stopped at a crossroads to cast around for the scent. :
I have often thought it to be more than a geas-blade. But your Star-Eyed bound you two, despite Kethry's previous link to it, so I presume it isn't inimical, only—hmm—stubborn?:

Tarma grimaced at the
kyree's
choice of words. Maybe.
Whatever, I'm glad now that the damn thing does have a mind of its own. The only two females in peril for leagues around are Kero and her brother's bride. There're no women in that bandit group, right?

:I have not scented any,:
the
kyree
confirmed, loping off on the fork to the west.

Tarma urged her horse to follow.
Then the goal and the target are clear. There's nothing to confuse the issue. And Kero is going to need all the help she can get.

:We two are not precisely useless.:
The path was leading off into the hills, and presently vanished. Warrl continued to follow with his nose along the bare ground, swiftly and silently.

It was as dark as the inside of a cat with the moon down. Tarma relaxed, rested, trusting to the senses of her mount and Warrl.

Tarma reacted instantly, and so did her mare. She peered into the darkness ahead of her, and could barely make out a moving blot against the lighter expanse of scrub grass and dirt ahead.

What's up?
she thought at him.
She
could not speak mind-to-mind, but he could and did read her thoughts. They'd used that little talent of his on more than one scouting foray.

:Interesting. She dismounted here.:
Tarma eased herself down out of her saddle, and winced a little when she put weight on her bad leg. She led the mare up to Warrl as quietly as she could to keep from distracting him. He raised his head and sniffed the breeze just as she got there.

He put nose to ground again.
:The sword, I presume, alerted her. Or possibly is guiding her.

Or controlling her,
Tarma thought sardonically, thinking of times past.

Tarma dropped Hellsbane's reins, ground-tethering her, and carefully moved off in the direction Warrl's nose pointed. Within a few feet of the trail, behind a low rise, she found a creekbed with a trickle of water running through it, trees on both sides of it. Where the trees were thickest, she found Kero's mare tethered with enough rein that she could eat and drink.

Satisfied—and pleased that the girl had thought to provide for her horse—she tethered Hellsbane there beside the girl's riding mare, and returned to Warrl.

If it's controlling her, she's at least holding her own. Now what?
she asked him.

He moved forward a few feet at a time.
:Ah. Here she dropped to hands and knees. A crawling stalk.: He raised his head to look at her. :I would advise the same, based on the strength of the scents.:

Tarma shook her head in admiration.
Brightest Goddess—the damned blade is finally doing something right. All right, Furface, let's see what you and I can do about cutting around to the other side of the camp.

 

Kerowyn halted her horse; she could just barely make out the dirt road ahead, and the fact that this was a crossroads. She stared at the trail and tried to remember what the stories she'd heard had said about her grandmother's geas-blade. There was something about Kethry fighting as if she were a master swordswoman even though she was entirely untrained—which might mean the thing gave her unusual abilities. Could it make one a master tracker, perhaps?

She touched her hand to the hilt, and felt a kind of tingle, as if her hand had a mild case of “pins and needles.” There was something there, all right, even if she didn't know what it was.

On the other hand, she wasn't too certain she wanted to find out while she had other options available.

She settled herself carefully in her saddle and opened the protections on her mind. Slowly, this time. The last thing she wanted was to let that slimy thing know she was behind them.

She caught a lot of stray thoughts, full of violence and not very clear or coherent; and when she opened her eyes, she found she was facing westward. Very well, then, west it would be.

Each time she lost the trail, she found it again by cautiously lowering her protections, and “listening.” But then the road she followed turned into a path, and the path itself dwindled away to nothing, and it was too dark to try and track the bandits by ordinary means.

Now she
had
no choice. Reluctantly, she eased the blade halfway out of its sheath, and relaxed.

The darkness about her began to lighten, and soon she could see as well as if it was near dawn. For a moment, as she looked around herself in astonishment, she thought she might be having some kind of fit—there were little sparkles of sullen light leading off over the hills. Then she pulled her hand away from the hilt of the sword, and she realized that the little sparkles vanished, as did her ability to see so clearly, the moment her hand left the sword.

So this means, what?
She dismounted and put her hand back on the sword. The sullen light reappeared, and as she examined the hard ground, she saw the faint traces of hoofmarks there. This, then, was the direction the bandits had taken.

And the moment she
found
their trail, the light disappeared, although she could still see as well as before.

It's letting me do what I
can
do. It‘s—playing tutor, I guess. But the moment I'm in a position where my own abilities can handle things—then it just sort of steps back and makes me take care of myself.

She took the blade in her right hand, the mare's reins in her left, and followed the trail until—something—told her to stop. It just didn't seem right to go on farther.

Maybe it's about time to see what they're up to.
She opened her mind, leaning against Verenna's warm, sweaty neck and closing her eyes to do so, and went “looking” for bandits.

She found them all right. An entire encampment of them, with sentries posted all around the little valley they'd taken for their own. Drunk, most of them. Wild, disconnected thoughts. Dierna was there, and still alive—and relatively unharmed. But with her was—

Kero slammed her protections shut, convulsively. He was there with her, that cold, slimy,
evil
presence she'd felt before. This time he hadn't sensed her presence, but that was because he was preoccupied. But she had inadvertently come a lot closer to being detected than she really wanted to think about.

She looked around, assessing the possibilities; there was a tiny creek not far from where she was standing, with trees lining both sides. It wasn't much cover, but to all eyes other than hers the night was deep and dark enough to hide just about anything. With the cover provided by the bushes, Verenna would be just about invisible. Now if she could just do something to keep her from making a fuss-Well, the mare probably hadn't fed terribly well, what with all the confusion for the feast, and then the upset of the raid. If she left Verenna tethered loosely so that she could get at browse and water, that might keep her occupied and quiet.

She led her mare into the copse, right up to the water-side, and tethered her in a tiny clearing right next to the creek. The clearing was surrounded by bushes and trees, and may itself have been part of the creekbed until something changed its path.