The Blood Curse (23 page)

Horses and men milled in the wide dirt yard. Jaumé counted the riders swiftly. Seven men. Where was the princess?

It took him several minutes to realize that the smallest rider was a woman, and that her hands were tied to the pommel.

He watched as she was lifted down from her mount. She swayed when her feet touched the ground, stumbled and caught herself. She looked tiny alongside the Brothers. Tiny and weak.

The princess lifted bound hands and pushed back the hood of her cloak. She had a small, pale face, and hair chopped as short as a boy’s.

Jaumé was disappointed. That was a princess? Princesses were supposed to be pretty. Where was the long rope of hair? The eyes like jewels?

One of the new Brothers took the princess’s arm and walked her to the door, one step behind Ifrem.

Jaumé hastily moved aside.

Ifrem ignored him. So did the Brother leading the princess. So did the princess.

Jaumé stared at her as she passed. Someone had hit her. A dark bruise mottled her cheek.

He swiveled his head and watched her disappear down the corridor. It was hard to believe she was a princess.

Jaumé wondered how the Brothers were going to use her as bait. He remembered one of Mam’s tales: a princess tied to a stake, and a great winged beast swooping out of the sky to eat her. A gallant huntsman had saved the princess, and married her, and become king, and it was a tale, because there were no winged beasts in the sky... but the stake could be true.

Jaumé turned his attention back to the yard. Bennick stood a few strides in front of the stoop. His stance, the way he clasped his hands behind his back, made Jaumé uneasy, but he wasn’t sure why. Bennick looked relaxed, but Jaumé knew he wasn’t. Was Bennick scared? Wary?

One of the new Brothers walked across to Bennick. He spoke to Bennick, seemed to ask a question. Bennick answered. Jaumé heard their voices, but not the words. After a moment, the two men clasped hands.

Bennick turned back to the house. Jaumé caught a glimpse of his face. Bennick looked like he was trying not to grin.

T
HE NEW
B
ROTHERS
gathered around the long table in Ifrem’s main room. Ifrem had bread and cheese for them and a thick, spicy stew and the bitter tea the Brothers liked. Jaumé learned the new Brothers’ names while he ate. Vught was their leader, a flat-faced man much younger than Nolt had been. And there were Krey, Doak, Soll, Luit, and Hetchel. Hetchel was with the princess, guarding her.

Ifrem laid three curling scraps of paper on the table in front of Vught. “Messages from Oudhees, Hansgrohe, and Vermeulen.”

“Oudhees?” Vught frowned, as if he was surprised.

“Came in first.” Ifrem tapped one of the messages.

Vught unrolled the message, held it close to a candle, and read. When he’d finished, he said a word Jaumé didn’t recognize. It was a swearword; Vught’s tone told him that. “They sailed to Oudhees.”

Jaumé glanced around the table. The new Brothers were all frowning. “When did they arrive?” one of them asked.

“Message came in five days ago,” Ifrem said.

“A problem?” Bennick asked, his voice neutral.

“Puts them ahead of us. We’ll have to move faster.” Vught scowled, and read the message again. “Konrad counted thirteen mages. That’s more than we thought.”

He tossed the message aside and reached for another one, read it. His expression changed, became less of a scowl. “Passed through Hansgrohe. Bought a wagon. The roads are jammed with refugees. Werner says their pace’ll be slow.”

One of the Brothers nodded. “Good.”

“Even better, our Brothers killed three Sentinels. When did this come in?”

“Four days ago,” Ifrem said.

Vught unrolled the third message, read it, gave a sour grunt. “Twelve men behind us.”

The mood around the table changed. The new Brothers weren’t frowning; they were sitting up, looking alert. “Following us?” one of them asked. Luit, Jaumé thought his name was. He was missing several of his front teeth.

“Following
her
.” Vught screwed the paper up and tossed it in the fire.

“Mages?”

Vught shook his head. “Our Brother doesn’t think so. Soldiers, he reckons. From Lundegaard.”

There was a moment’s silence, then Bennick shrugged. “Twelve soldiers. What’s to worry about?”

“Nothing,” Vught said, reaching for his mug. He swallowed deeply, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, put the mug down with a thump. “We’re seven, now that you’ve joined.” His eyes flicked over Jaumé, dismissing him. “They haven’t got a chance.”

Bennick grinned. “No, they haven’t.” He stretched his arms over his head and leaned back in his chair, looking relaxed.

“How far behind are they?” one of the Brothers asked. Jaumé tried to remember his name. Soll? He had curly brown hair, like Da’s.

“Less than a day.” Vught leaned back in his chair too, like Bennick. “Not that it matters. They’re no match for us.” His grin was sharp, full of teeth. It reminded Jaumé of the shark that had once washed up on the shore at Girond.

“What about the boy?” Ifrem said. “Want him with you? I can send him to Fith.”

Fith? Jaumé looked at Bennick in alarm.

Vught shrugged. “Why not? He’ll just slow us down.”

“He didn’t slow Nolt down,” Bennick said, still sprawled in his chair, relaxed. “He saved our lives.”

Vught’s gaze swung to Jaumé. The pale gray eyes seemed to pin Jaumé to his seat. He sat absolutely still, holding his breath.

“Fast learner,” Bennick said. “Good marksman.”

Vught stared at Jaumé a moment longer, then shrugged. “He can come if he wants.”

“Well, lad?” Bennick said.

“I want to stay with you.” The words spilled fast from Jaumé’s tongue.

Vught shrugged again, looked at Bennick. “He’s your responsibility.”

Bennick nodded.

Vught glanced around the table. “Luit, change with Hetchel.”

The Brother with the missing teeth pushed back his stool and left the room.

“Bitch keeps trying to escape,” Vught said. “Given us a lot of trouble.”

Jaumé’s ears pricked.

“Escape?” Ifrem said. “How?”

“Loosened the bars on her cabin window, tried to jump overboard. We manacled her after that, but she pulled the bolt out of the floor. Since then we’ve kept a watch on her, day and night, even when she pisses.”

Bennick snorted, a sound of amusement. “Bet she likes that.”

“Doesn’t seem to care. Looks through us, like we’re those slaves they have in Osgaard.”

Bennick snorted again. This time he didn’t sound amused.

“Three days ago, she stabbed Doak here with a stick and rode into a band of militiamen, screaming that she was being kidnapped. We had to kill them all. Took us all night and half the next morning to track her down.”

Jaumé blinked, impressed by the princess’s daring.

“Why don’t you use All-Mother’s Breath?” Bennick asked. “If she’s such a handful.”

“Can’t,” Vught said. “We tried, but she couldn’t keep any food down. Came close to dying on us. We need her alive.”

Bennick nodded, grunted.

A Brother entered the room. His face was pitted with small, round scars. He sat on the stool Luit had vacated, reached for a bowl of stew, and started eating.

“We used a covered wagon for a while. Kept her tied up, but she gets carriage sick. Can’t eat.” Vught drank deeply from his mug. “Bitch.”

Bennick grunted again.

“You’ve seen the prince?” curly-headed Soll asked. “You know what he looks like?”

“I do. And some of the mages he’s with.”

“Mages.” Vught scowled again.

“Most of ’em seem to be shapeshifters, though there’s at least one healer. Healed the prince when I killed him. Arrow through the heart. Dead. Then a couple of hours later he’s walking around like nothing happened.” There was disgust in Bennick’s voice.

Vught’s scowl faded. He looked almost amused.

“Probably got fire mages, too. But I didn’t see any.”

“Best to assume they do.” Vught scratched his ribs. “But magic or no magic, we got the advantage now. This time, the prince isn’t going to walk away.”

Bennick leaned forward. “How’re you planning to use her?”

Vught grinned his shark’s grin again. “It’s good.” And then he glanced at Jaumé.

Bennick glanced at him, too, and jerked his head.
Leave us
.

Jaumé went to the far end of the long table, even though he was burning with curiosity. He rinsed his hands in the wooden basin there, and dried them.

Bennick and Vught were still talking.

He imagined the princess tied to a stake, and Brothers crouched in the bushes all around, and Bennick with his bow, and he imagined Prince Harkeld galloping towards her...

Jaumé shook his head, chasing away the image.

Ifrem had placed a basket of soft, wrinkled apples on the table. Jaumé spent a minute choosing one. When he glanced up, Vught and Bennick had stopped talking.

Jaumé went back to his seat. Bennick was chuckling under his breath.

Jaumé bit into his apple. He wished he’d heard Vught’s plan.

W
HEN
H
ETCHEL HAD
eaten, Ifrem cleared the table and laid out maps. Jaumé stayed quiet in his chair, trying not to draw attention to himself. He squinted at the closest map. It looked like a quilt, with patches of blue and green and snaking lines. How did one make sense of it? He dared not ask Bennick; he didn’t want to be sent to bed.

“We’re here,” Vught said, placing a finger on one of the lines. A bandage wound around his hand, trailing a frayed end over the map. Vught uttered a wordless sound of impatience and stripped the bandage off, tossing it into the fire. Jaumé saw a curving line of scabs, like teeth marks.

Bennick saw it too. “Someone bite you?”

Vught scowled. “That bitch. Got infected. Had to cut it open.”

Jaumé’s gaze jerked to Vught’s face, to the flat cheekbones, the thin mouth, the cold eyes. He shivered. He would never dare bite Vught. But
she
’d dared to. And she’d tried to jump out her cabin window, had stabbed Doak with a stick and ridden into a troop of militiamen. Maybe there
was
something special about her.

“We’re here,” Vught said again. “Any idea how far away the curse is, Ifrem?”

Ifrem leaned forward. “Oudhees fell a couple of days ago; Konrad managed to send pigeons out. Hansgrohe’ll go soon—if it hasn’t already. I reckon it’ll be in Bloedel in a fortnight.”

Bennick uttered a low whistle. “It’s covering ground.” His eyebrows were raised, but he looked interested, not scared.

“Moving directly west?” Vught asked.

Ifrem nodded. “Seems to be doing exactly what the storytellers said it would.”

The curse shall rise in the east and pass across the kingdoms until it sets in the west, like the sun
. Jaumé remembered that from the tales. And he also remembered,
Those who drink the water shall thirst for blood. They shall be as wild beasts
.

He shivered again, to the pit of his stomach.

“What about the Urels?” Soll asked. “Curse get them, too?”

Ifrem nodded. “All the eastern isles had it, last I heard. Haven’t had any news since Oudhees fell.”

“No panic here,” Hetchel said. “Seems calm.”

“They don’t know about Oudhees yet,” Ifrem said. “They’ll panic soon as they hear. Dumb goat-rutters.”

Vught grunted a laugh.

The Brothers bent over the maps and talked. Jaumé curled up in the chair, hugging his knees, trying to stay awake.

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

“T
HE CURSE IS
less than a mile away,” Rand said, after they’d eaten dinner. “You all know this, but I’ll say it again: any water on the ground is cursed. Don’t get it anywhere near your mouths.”

Less than a mile? Harkeld glanced over his shoulder, and saw only blackness.

“Both Petrus and Serril have landed on cursed ground and they’re fine. We don’t anticipate any problems, but... to be safe we’ll have two mages on guard tonight.”

“We can only guess what’s going to happen,” Serril said, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. “And because we can’t be absolutely certain, we’ve decided all shapeshifters will sleep as animals tonight. The curse doesn’t affect animals, so it shouldn’t affect us when we’re shifted.”

For the first time, Harkeld found himself wishing he was a shapeshifter.

“You don’t sound certain,” Gretel said.

“We’re not,” Serril said. “It’s a theory that hasn’t been tested. But we’re fairly confident we can’t get the curse if we’re shifted, so tonight, those of us who can, sleep as animals.”

“It’s a Primary Law broken,” Rand said. “But under the circumstances...”

“Under the circumstances, breaking Primary Laws is the least of our worries,” Malle said briskly. “At least until we reach the anchor stone.”

“Within reason,” Rand said. “Shapeshifters, be careful near cursed water. It shouldn’t affect you if you’re shifted, but it’s one theory I don’t wish to test. Take no risks. Is that understood?”

Harkeld looked across the campfire at Innis. Her gaze was on Rand. She nodded, her expression grave.