Water Witch (3 page)

She sighed, frustrated at herself and the
pile of mud that had buried all but the feet and shins of the crone. Maybe
she'd return in a week when the water ran off and soaked in and dried up. Maybe
she'd dig the women out.

For now she was spent. And wet. And cold.
She whistled for Barruch and was surprised to hear him blowing air just on the
other side of the hut. He clomped out from behind it and ambled over to her. He
turned his head, finicky, to the side and showed her his jawline.

"You old fool," she whispered to
him and he nickered in response. He was soaked and obviously unhappy as he
wasn't one to wait in the open rain while she made her collections. Either he
was traveling her the length and breadth of the recovery grounds, or he waited
patiently somewhere sheltered. This plain wasn't big enough for the first and
it lacked the latter.

"It's okay," she told him.
"It'll be over soon." She stared past the hut where the trees were.
See?" she said. "The sun is shining over there."

He blew irritably, and she couldn't help
chuckling. "I'd like to dry off too."

She'd rather a bath and a hot fire but she
knew the longing for those things was about more than just getting clean and
warm and that neither of them would ease her spirit the way she always hoped it
would. A truly hot bath was a thing for Sarum, and Sarum was along way away.
There was nothing for it, she knew, so maybe today would be the day she didn't
hurry back to that bath in her nearby stream and that fire stoked outside her
camp, and later to that inevitable interrogation. Maybe today her father's
inquisition could wait.

She flung herself onto Barruch's back,
planning to lead him to the copse where she'd dismount and lie on the moss, let
the sun warm her. Then she'd pull on her tunic and wait for the rain to stop if
it hadn't by then. It had already slowed down enough she didn't have to
continually squint against the raindrops to see.

"He'll send someone for me, but we
won't care will we?" she said, patting her mount's neck as he plodded
toward the copse. With each step, Barruch seemed to pick up his pace and she
guessed he was tired of death and wanted to retreat somewhere where he didn't
have to put up with it. For a warhorse, he certainly could be fastidiuous.

She was a few hundred paces out when the
rain did stop; the sunshine was so bright on the tree stand ahead of her she
had to shield her eyes. The sun felt good on her back. Maybe she'd dry off
before she even got there and they could just take the time to relax instead.
She already knew the spot they'd stop at. Right there where the twinkling of
sunlight reflected back at her.

Wait. That wasn't right. No light would be
twinkling from a focused spot like that in the middle of trees -- not even if
it was reflecting off water. Not at that height.

"Something isn't right, Old Man."
She squeezed Barruch's sides with her knees and he stopped. She studied the
area a few seconds more, chewing her lip in thought.

"Best get ready," she told him
and he snorted in reply, himself breathing in a large draft after as though he
was about to launch himself and needed bracing.

She reached into her side bag and pulled
out her tunic then, still seated, pulled it down over her head, stretching her
arms into the sleeves. It might be nothing there in the shadow of the trees,
but she'd rather face nothing dressed then face something unknown naked.

The leather stuck in places against her
skin and she had to hold onto Barruch tighter with her knees so she could pluck
the material away and smooth it down.

The light flashed again and disappeared,
leaving just the lush greens of trees and vegetation. Right. She was glad she
was dressed. She spurred Barruch into a gallop. He was so responsive to her
after these years that he was off in seconds. If there was something there, she
wasn't giving it time to escape. And she knew something was there. Someone. And
someone being there meant at least one person had escaped. Or fled.

And the person was watching her.

She charged the tree stand, laying down
against Barruch's back, hugging his neck, becoming part of the horseflesh,
letting the scratch of brambles and tree branches caress her arms. There was
too much noise from the horse's panting breath, from the sound of him pounding
the ground that she'd never hear if someone slipped out through the brush. That
didn't mean she was going to give them time anyway. She knew the exact spot
where the light flashed, hadn't taken her eyes off it and she went for the
stand with all her concentration.

It was a small clearing, big enough for a
horse to stand and a young woman to jump down and peer, crouched, into the
underbrush.

Nothing.

She should have known that as fast as
Barruch could be, he'd never outrun a spy who was watching the approach in the
first place. But she had hoped she could at least catch the person running off.

She stood up and scanned the area. She
should be able to see where they'd gone. There was a patch of grass that was
crushed, a broken tree branch, nothing else. So that was where they'd watched
from. She stood in the middle and turned in the direction of the hut. Sure
enough, she had good enough view of what remained of it but nothing was overtly
clear. Would the person have been able to make out facial features or count the
dead at this distance? She tried. She knew exactly how many dead bodies there
were, but at this distance, she couldn't really say she "knew" they
were bodies -- they just showed as smudges of black against the earth. She
couldn't even see the feet she knew were stuck out from beneath the pile of
mud.

Barruch neighed from behind her and pressed
impatiently into the growth. She watched him peering from behind a few tree
limbs he'd managed to hide in. She gave him a warning shush before she turned
back to squint into the underbrush ahead of her. The tree limbs behind her made
an annoyingly loud crackling sound.

He whinnied in protest.

She'd have to do some training with him on
not being so sassy.

"Really, Barruch?" she said,
turning to him.

There, not three feet away, stood a youth
perhaps a year or two older than her, his leg lifted, ready to swing onto
Barruch's back. Barruch was not being overly cooperative and had swung his hind
quarters toward a tree so the man was having a hard time getting into place.

"Get away from my mount," she
said.

Best to not to let her gaze travel to the
sword hanging on Barruch's other side. She was well-trained with sword and
knife, even long sticks, but she rarely used the broad steel attached to her
saddle -- why would she? The great Yuri's witch had no need of a sword to kill,
but this boy -- this man, actually now that she'd seen him well enough -- would
surely use it if he could.

"Get away from Barruch," she said
again, setting the spring in her lower back just in case she had to lunge.

Instead of obeying, he yanked hard on the
reins so Barruch had to move away from the tree. His forearm muscles tightened
and with a quick sweep the man's leg was up and over, and adroitly turning
Barruch's nose toward her. With one hand he held onto the reins, with the
other, he reached out to her. His fingers were long and elegant but for the
roughness.

"Get on," he said.

Get on? Oddest kidnap she'd heard of -- not
that she'd heard of many. Her mother had been the last, but she'd not even been
born and had to hear it years later.

"No." She told him.

He shrugged, and flashed a dazzling grin.
"You'll miss him."

She stood, letting the tension she'd loaded
into her spine relax. "I will not; he won't go with you."

A chuckle then, and a coaxing cluck.
Barruch started to move.

She forged forward. "Wait. Barruch.
Kneel." It was all she could think of. She'd taught him the trick to go
down onto his front legs long ago as a trick to please her father. It always
meant a parsnip or two for the beast-- something the horse loved more than a
free run. It took a second, a heart stepping second when she thought he
wouldn't obey, but then, down went one knee and with a laborious groan, down
went the other.

She knew the rider would have tried in the
second to dig in, so he wouldn't fall, but it wasn't nearly enough time and he
pitched forward instead, landing on his side in the grass. Alaysha took the
time he was recovering to dash forward and wrestle her sword from Barruch's
side. With it, she stood, feet braced apart, sword raised to her right with both
hands on the hilt. He'd think twice if he meant to capture her. Or take her
horse.

"I wasn't trying to steal him."
He hoisted himself to his elbows.

"No?"

"No. Or steal you if that's what you
think."

"You couldn't anyway."

"Oh, I see that."

"What do you want?"

He looked her over, his glance lingering a
little too long on her chest. She had the horrible feeling that he'd seen her
naked as she'd done her father's bidding, while he hid in the trees. He
couldn't possibly have seen any real details from this far out, but somehow,
she felt as though with him, it was possible. Her neck burned and she had to
fight the urge to lower her gaze in shame. Instead, she shifted the blade so it
was to her left. Just enough to make motion to distract him.

"You didn't tell me what you're after.
Why are you here?"

He put an innocent hand to his bare chest.
"Me? Why are you here?"

 
She
didn't need to answer him; he'd undoubtedly seen everything--or at least enough
to know her presence was not mere happenstance. She gave him a dry glare that
prompted him to protest.

"Oh, that?" He waved his hand in
the direction of the village. "I know all about it. I even know why."

"Then why ask?"

"Because I want to know why you think
you're here."

She lifted her shoulder, more to ease the
ache beneath its blade than anything else. "I know exactly why I'm
here." In fact, she knew all too well. It wasn't a difficult concept,
after all.

"Not here." He stamped his foot
against the moss and spread his arms.
 
"Here." He gave her an exasperated sigh when she didn't say
anything. "You have no idea who you are."

"And you do?" She snorted.

He turned his attention to her sword and
nodded at it. "Why don't you put that thing down? I think we both know you
don't need it."

She lowered the blade, but let it rest
against her thigh. It might be true she didn't need it, but he might, and she
wasn't about to make it easy for him to take it from her.

"Good," he said. "Good. Now,
come, let's sit."

He settled on his patch of grass, crossed
his legs and patted the spot in front of him.

"As though we were old friends?"
She gave his hand a wary glance.

"Certainly not," he agreed. How
can we be? I've only known you a few moments. Now your nohma -- well, I knew
her for a while longer."

Now she gave him an even warier glance. He
couldn't possibly know her nohma. She'd been dead at least a dozen years. She
met his gaze across the space, his eyes, this close, looked like amber. She'd
always liked that stone. She thought she remembered her mother's eyes when she
looked into his. For a second she was flustered, then she remembered what he'd
said.

"You're lying."

He spread his arms, a gesture of abject
innocence, one that made him look even younger than she thought he could be.
"Why would I lie?"

She didn't know, but she wasn't foolish
enough to say so. Instead she took her time to look him over and she made no
attempt to conceal the scrutiny. Let him know she was searching for weakness or
ferreting out falsehood. Let him feel nervous.

What she got for her effort was a brush of
fingers through his black hair. It wasn't as short as she'd thought at first --
rather it was tied back at some point into a leather thong and had come mostly
out of its queue, hung over his ears but stopped short at his chin. His wide
set eyes watched her watching him, and he leaned back almost arrogantly onto
one palm, thrust his chest forward, giving her good study. She could make out
markings beneath his arm running vertically down his rib cage.

"Who are you?" She did her best
not to stare at the tattaus.

"Someone who knows your nohma
obviously."

"You don't know her." Now she had
him -- anyone who really was telling the truth would not use the present tense.

"I do," he said."

She shuffled her feet, gave them great
consideration. "Good ploy."

"How could I be making a ploy?"

"Everyone has a nohma, and so it would
be easy to say you knew mine, hoping you would fool me into thinking you do
know her."

He chuckled and placed his palms behind his
head, leaning back further against a tree.

"Stop it," she said.

"Stop what?"