Zara the Wolf (12 page)

"Yes, Lady Shelly," he said as he raced out the
door. Shelly's face relaxed, and I realized it was mostly an act—a damn
good one. She was shook up but in control of her emotions. The next two hours
were almost funny. The castle guard went on alert looking for more assassins.
The earl made a brief appearance with four guards in tow. He apologized several
times to Shelly for his failure to protect her and then ran off promising to
have the situation resolved by morning. Lieutenant Eaton berated the guard for
sleeping on the job. Feeling sorry for the guard, I suggested the girl
undoubtedly had help, someone who distracted him while she slipped into the
room or maybe there was a secret passage somewhere in the room. It helped to
distract Eaton.

"Alright, what happened? You aren't going to sleep
until I'm tired, and right now I'm a bundle of nerves," Shelly said as she
sat cross-legged on her bed and glared in my direction. I pulled one of the
chairs closer to the bed and sat. I would have preferred the floor, but the
difference in heights would have been awkward.

"The girl was the Siren I saw at dinner. Either she
used her talent to blind the guard to her presence, or she convinced the guard
it was you or me entering the room—an illusion rather than manipulating
his mind."

"She could do that?"

"I don't know her powers. I know the Cheyo trained are
capable of that and more. The Monk believes the Sirens have talent but not
nearly that of a fully trained Monk. So each individual's talent will vary. I
suspect she blinded the guard to her presence, since she attacked me in a
similar way."

"What did it feel like?" Shelly couldn't help being
curious, learning how things and people worked.

"Like I was deep in a mine. It was totally dark, and
there weren’t any sounds. And I had no feeling anywhere. Like my body had been disconnected
from my mind."

"Don't think I'd like that. She was going to stab you
and leave?"

"I think that was the idea. She knew I could identify
her, so she either had to leave the castle or kill me. Apparently, whatever she
was up to was more important than the risk of killing me." I fetched my bag
and took out several of the herbs I knew would help heal the cuts, which were
minor. Shelly tore up one of her silk night shifts and wrapped my arm.

"Alright, how did you kill her? I kind of caught the
last part of the struggle, and you didn't touch her—although she was
trying to stab you. It was like she was fighting a ghost."

"Close your eyes," I decided a small demonstration
was the easiest way to explain it.

She did.

"Now imagine a man is standing twenty paces away. He
has a club in his hand and is advancing on you. What do you do? Don't open your
eyes. You can imagine anything to life, like a sword or rocks or wind."

"I'd get a bow and arrow," she said, biting down
on her lip.

"He has a knight’s armor and a shield and continues
toward you."

"I mount a warhorse and charge him." She giggled
with delight. We continued for several minutes before stopping.

"That was fun. But that doesn't explain how you killed
her. Those images can't kill."

"Think of the images as being real. If I come at you
with a club and swing it at your head and you don't block it or duck or otherwise
avoid it, your mind will believe you were really hit with that club. If the
blow would have been fatal, your mind will shut down. You will die just as if
you had been physically hit with the club. Your mind and your opponent's are
interpreting what is happening as if real."

"Oh, and the girl?"

"She eventually chose an armored man with a sword; I
won because I understand sword fighting and she didn't."

"So the bruising to the side of her face and head, a
sword to the head?"

"Yes. I've been lucky so far. Both of the Sirens had
talent, but it was not only limited, but new. They hadn't had time to develop
it fully. A Cheyo Monk would crush me in seconds. A Siren with a little more
power would be an even match. Against one with any more power or experience, I'll
need luck to survive."

"The duke certainly doesn't expect you to kill them
all." She looked at me wide-eyed, her face pale.

"No. He only asked me to look." I laughed.
"Identifying them without them identifying me and keeping our identity
secret is turning out to be more difficult than it sounded before we left."

* * *

After the morning meal, the earl had a meeting with Shelly, the
captain in charge of his security, and anyone involved in last night’s
incident. The earl's security captain hadn't found anyone who knew the girl and
had no idea how she gained entrance to the castle. He also reported that a Lady
Hathorn had gone missing and thought maybe the girl had been sent to kill both
ladies, although there was no obvious connection. Lady Shelly was from Redrock
in Duke Wetzel's domain, and Lady Hathorn was from Monis in Duke Brodka's
domain.

Shelly sat quietly during the discussions, but I did notice
an amused expression at times. I felt sorry for the guard at Shelly's room that
night, the captain in charge of security, and the noble who lost the love of
his life, but I couldn't help them without compromising what the duke had asked
me to do. The earl reluctantly allowed us to leave the next day without a
detail of his troops. Shelly assured him her detail was sufficient to handle an
assassin if necessary.

* * *

The question was whether to risk the lower Broken Mountains
Pass and go directly to Jqedit or bypass the Broken Mountains to the west and
go to Castra first then up the Areva River to Jqedit. Although the pass was
generally safe for a caravan our size, I told Shelly I didn't fancy fighting Indians
in the mountains alongside soldiers used to fighting in the plains. She agreed
and decided to go to Castra first.

"Besides, Castra has a Cheyo Monk, so there won't be
any Sirens around." She laughed. "You could use a rest."

I agreed, concerned any attack on me put Shelly in jeopardy.

We departed Muda early the next morning, following the
coastline, which would eventually take us to Castra. The first night out, Eaton
pulled me aside while the camp was being set up.

"Would you mind a practice session tonight after
dinner? I still don't think soldiers would do well using the Indian strategy,
too disorganized. We like having control over our units. However, when the
bandits attacked, I found it useful to use their non-standard fighting style.
They weren't guarding against an attack to the legs or arms. They tend to guard
against places we think of as killing zones. But I found a strike to someone's
arm or leg, even if not disabling, is distracting and potentially opens him for
a killing or disabling blow. And of course if he's bleeding, his endurance
won't last long."

"No, I'd welcome the practice. Lady Shelly's safety is
as important to me as it is to you. The sharper we are, the better prepared
we'll be in the event of another attack."

"You expect another attack?" Eaton asked,
frowning.

"Prepare for the worst and hope for the best," I
said, knowing another attack was likely with the growing threat from the Sirens.
They wanted power but would need money to finance their activities. Robbery
would be the easiest and fastest way, especially given their members’ talents.
And there were several mountain ranges between here and Kariso with tribes.
This was certainly the time of year for raids—they tended to stay put in
the winter months.

"Did I hear you and Eaton are going to fight?"
Shelly asked as we sat drinking coffee after our dinner.

"Practice, not fight," I said in response to her
worried look.

"I worry. He doesn't seem to like you."

"He's used to being in charge, and it bothers him I'm
not under his authority. He believes that makes it harder for him to properly
protect you. Military people like order and control."

"You don't?"

"After being a slave, I like freedom."

Shelly nodded but frowned. "Too much freedom can be
bad. Phillip and I wouldn't have been captured if we hadn't been allowed to do
what we wanted. Our guards certainly warned us enough times ... and they would
be alive today." Her eyes filled with tears with the last words. Just
then, Eaton approached.

"Ready, Zara?"

"Yes, I can certainly use the exercise," I said,
rising with my practice sword. Eaton laughed.

"You run as often as you ride your horse."

"The Indians run miles every day as part of their training.
It becomes habit forming."

"And keeps you in excellent condition. I've been
tempted to make the troops do a little each day, but it would probably kill
them." He snorted.

We walked several hundred paces away from the camp to a
small clearing and were followed by most everyone who wasn't busy with duties.
We faced each other and nodded our readiness. Eaton attacked in a flurry of
blows that I blocked and then backed away a few steps. Thinking of the fight
with the mercenaries, I closed my eyes and sought mental sight. The image of
the man attacking me had been slightly different than the Siren's illusions.
That could be important in any future encounters. Eaton was there in the blue
haze but somewhat less solid than the images the Monk or Sirens projected, the
opposite of what logic would have indicated.

Eaton lunged forward with a powerful attack to my waist that
I caught in my guard, although the force of the blow slammed the flat of my
sword blade into me.

I stepped back, lifting my sword and his up over my head and
then rotated causing his trapped blade to twist his wrist throwing him away from
me. Had I continued twisting, it would have snapped his wrist.

"Damn that special guard of yours. Locks the blade
unless I pull back and then I'm vulnerable to a counterattack," he swore
as he pressed another attack.

I felt faster but knew I wasn't. Somehow, with my eyes
closed my mind seemed to identify his attack faster, which made my counter
quicker, or conversely, I recognized an opening sooner.

"Enough," Eaton said with a laugh. "I'm tired
even if you aren't. I think I'm going to start running alongside my horse
instead of riding. Thanks, that was a good workout. A couple of times when we
backed away, I thought you had your eyes closed. Obviously you didn't or were
faking it, because you didn't miss a beat when I attacked."

"Squinting, the fire was distracting," I said,
noting I would have to be more careful in the future as the feeling was
enchantingly seductive.

"You did have your eyes closed," Shelly said with
a giggle, her head close to mine as we walked back to the fire pit.

"I was trying to determine the difference between
illusion and reality when I'm in that ... other state," I said, not sure
what to call that reality when engaged with the Monk or a Siren.
Other
didn't quite fit, but I wasn't
sure what adequately explained it—not
quiet
or
mental
or
blue
, although that was the color I saw.

"Did you? Does it matter?"

"I think so. Ironically, the real people look faded
while the illusions look crystal clear and real. And yes it does matter. While
the Siren and I are fighting, real things are still happening. That's how I got
cut. The girl was quite clever. She hid herself inside her illusion, so my mind
would perceive it if the illusion cut me, but if the girl really cut me, my
mind might not. I could've bled to death not knowing I had been cut," I
said, fascinated by the complexity, one I was having to master by trial and
error. Students at the Cheyo School spent years learning it. I’d had a two-week
crash course.

"Enough for tonight. You're giving me a headache."
She laughed as she turned to go to her tent.

The next four days were much the same: morning meal, ride
until early afternoon, stop to rest the horses, have a quick snack, relieve
ourselves, ride to sunset, dinner, and to bed. We made good time, as the land
was mostly prairie with gentle rolling hills, with no thick forest or rocky
trails. Off to the west we occasionally saw the ocean and to the east the Broken
Mountains growing in the distance as we got closer to Castra. I missed the
mountains. I had spent a good part of my life in them. They hadn't been good
times, but the mountains weren't to blame. Besides, they had made me what I was,
and I wasn't unhappy with the result. After noon on the fifth day, we crested a
hill and saw Castra sprawled out along the shore of a large inlet of glistening
blue water. Boats of every size were anchored in the harbor, and several were coming
or going with their brightly colored sails blossoming in the wind. The stink of
fish was in the air. Just then, Eaton rode up beside Shelly and me.

"I'm glad to see Castra: no bandits, no Indians, the
caravan safe, and a nice clean bed." He grinned. "What about you,
Zara?"

"I can do without the bandits and Indians, but I'm
still working on becoming civilized, living in a permanent building, eating
rich foods, and trying to figure out where I fit in."

"Yes." Shelly laughed. "Indian life is
simple: no money, no nobility, few jobs, limited symbols to learn. But not
easy."

I said nothing because there was nothing to say that anyone
would understand. To Shelly, the difference was night and day. She had led a
privileged life before being captured and made a slave. To me, civilized life
was hard, especially for the poor. Most help in a castle was little better off
than an Ojaza slave and the nobility less accountable for their actions than a
warrior. The tribe had unchanging rules; the nobles made up rules to fit each occasion.
It was midafternoon when we reached the castle walls—the city had
none—and Shelly was again expected. I wondered if word of a noble's
travel plans were sent by bird every time he or she traveled.

"Welcome, Lady Shelly. I'm Minister Harris. We have
your rooms ready. Is there anything you'll need during your stay?" said a
distinguished-looking elderly man as Shelly dismounted and handed her reins to
a young boy. Harris wore a purple band with silver trim and a large engraved medallion
hanging from a gold chain.

I smiled mentally. The Indians didn't value gold, since it
was a soft metal and therefore of little use for what they considered
important: knives, swords, and tools.

"Elana will take care of your needs while you are
here." He nodded toward a young blonde-haired girl standing off to the
side, looking poised for action. She curtsied. "And the duke has requested
that you and your ladies dine with him tonight, if you aren't too tired from
the trip."

"Thank Duke Dewan, we would love to join him for
dinner," Shelly said.

As if on cue, Elana moved forward. "Lady Shelly, if you
will follow me, I will show you and your ladies to your rooms and get you
settled. Your luggage will be delivered shortly." In the room, she helped
get the luggage unpacked and put away, collected the clothes we considered
dirty, and disappeared with them. A half hour later she appeared with several
other girls carrying hot water, soap, and towels.

While Shelly's ladies helped her wash and get prepared for
dinner, I sat pondering how I could get in touch with the Cheyo Monk. I assumed
Duke Dewan knew Duke Wetzel had sent someone to investigate the Sirens, but I felt
I had to be careful. If he knew, then I didn't need to tell him; if he didn't,
then I probably shouldn't. I hoped the Monk would enlighten me, if I could contact
him.

"You had better get ready; we only have an hour before
dinner," Shelly said, breaking into my musing. I smiled. A noble woman
needed a couple of hours to get ready; I needed maybe ten minutes. "Go
ahead and smile, you don't have to have your hair fixed, your nails trimmed,
your face painted, and on and on," she said, correctly interpreting my
smile. I nodded acknowledgement and began undressing for a wash as her ladies
ran off to get themselves ready. They returned with Elana about ten minutes before
the dinner hour, and we made our way to the dining hall.

At least a hundred people were beginning to take their
assigned seats. Shelly was given a place at the main table to the left of the duke,
who entered shortly after we did, with two guards, one pushing a Cheyo Monk in
a chair with wheels. The Monk appeared small but was indistinguishable in his
or her oversized robe and hood. The duke by comparison was a large man in
height and girth with a full beard and mustache, a pug nose, and bushy
eyebrows.

"Sit," he roared as he approached the main table.
Off the main table, there were two long tables arranged like a squared-off
letter C, leaving an open area in the center for servers and entertainers. I
was seated at the first chair on the leg closest to Shelly. The duke was a
widower, according to Sarkis and Musa. His wife had died a year ago of some
mysterious illness. He had two daughters aged twelve and fifteen and a son,
eight. Only his eldest daughter was seated at the main table, next to Shelly.
After the meal and dessert, drinks were replenished and entertainment arrived:
a juggler, magician, and musician. After the incident at Ayus, I tried to pay
more attention to the people at the three tables, although with a Monk in the
castle I doubted there were any Sirens—with a cat present one wouldn't
expect any mice.

As the duke rose, signaling an end to the dinner, I felt the
presence of the Monk and quieted my mind. The room turned blue and the people
faded as the Monk appeared sitting naked in a small stream, humming. She looked
young and innocent sitting with the water bubbling around her and a smile of
contentment on her face. She looked up and nodded.

"Welcome, Zara the Wolf. From the rumors, you have had
an interesting trip," she said. "Come to my room around midnight, and
we can share information."

The blue fell away and I jumped up to follow Shelly, who was
walking with the duke. In his office, the guard closed the door and Shelly
handed him the letters from Duke Wetzel. He poured himself a glass of wine and some
berryjuice for Shelly before sitting and pointing to chairs for us to sit. Then
he opened the letters and began reading.

"Interesting. I like Duke Wetzel, but a young noble
woman and a woman who lived with the savages appear to be strange choices. Why
you, Shelly? You're very young, and this could be very dangerous."

"Zara needed a cover story, and I volunteered. I don't
know whether you heard, but my brother and I were captured by the Sheqn Indians
and made slaves. Zara is the one who freed me. I trust her with my life.
Besides, I decided this would be good training for me when I'm older."

"She freed you for money," Dewan said, frowning.

"Yes, all of ten silvers," she said with a
straight face, although I could see the humor in her eyes.

"Ten silvers? That's a story I have to hear.
Zara?"

"Your Grace," I said to give me a minute to decide
what to say. "Duke Wetzel had heard I’d been a slave of the Ojaza ... "
I recounted the story, trying to keep it brief, but the duke kept probing for
more details. In the end, I had to include part of my life with the Ojaza.

"Monk?" Dewan turned to the Cheyo Monk sitting in
the corner.

"Zara speaks the truth. She is what she claims to be,
and I believe she has Cheyo potential."

"It appears Duke Wetzel is as shrewd as I've always
believed. You are not only the right people to investigate the Sirens, but also
the least likely to be suspected. Stay as long as you wish. I will give you a
letter with my seal to ensure you have no problems on my lands."

It was late when we got back to Shelly's suite, and I was
exhausted from trying to keep my answers truthful while limiting the personal
details. By the time Musa and Sarkis finished helping Shelly get ready for bed
it was close to midnight.

"I have to go see the Cheyo Monk. He wants to see me at
midnight," I said, as Shelly crawled into bed. "Hopefully it won't
take long, since he's heard my whole story."

I found the Monk’s room easily, as it was in the duke's
wing. The door was slightly open.

"Come in, Zara, and sit." Her voice was a soft
whisper but easily heard. I entered, closed the door, and sat opposite her
where she pointed. Immediately the room disappeared and she appeared naked
sitting in the middle of a gently moving stream, which looked to be located
high in the mountains. "My favorite place where I was born and grew up.
You need a place like this, Zara. It helps to quiet the mind quickly and
grounds you like you’re a giant tree thousands of years old with hundreds of
roots sunk deep into the earth."

Where was that, I wondered. I had no memories of a favorite
place growing up in our small village like the Monk apparently did. I liked my
time at the Manola community but again had no favorite place. And my time with
the Ojaza wasn't pleasant. No, it wasn't pleasant, but it was where I had
become a spy, warrior, and Zara the Wolf. Yes, that was my place, where I had
become who I was now.

The Monk suddenly became a giant woman-of-fire advancing on
me with a flaming sword. I grew to match her size and drew my sword. She
attacked; her sword arching toward me. I raised my sword to stop hers, but when
they made contact, hers melted mine and I had to jump aside to avoid being
killed. I ran to the river and scooped up water I threw in her direction. She
laughed. Steam filled the air but didn't stop her or put out the fire. I became
the wolf and ran. She changed into a fire-eagle with steel talons and was over
me in seconds. I changed into armor as her talons sank into my shoulders,
slowly melting through the metal. My body grew warm then hot as the heat from
the fire-eagle enveloped me. My heart was beating like the wings of a humming
bird. Then she was a little girl back in the river, smiling. She said nothing
while I fought to regain a quiet mind. I sought the Ojaza camp and felt earth
beneath me, roots extending from me into the ground, deeper and deeper.

Again she became the fiery giant and came running at me,
sword ready to strike. I grew into a tree, bigger and bigger. Her sword slammed
into the tree but did little damage. I swung a limb as thick as two men and
knocked her several steps away.

"Good. You learn quickly. The key is to remain anchored
to your place of strength. As you saw, panic is your weakness and your eventual
defeat and death." Her whisper was somehow warm and comforting. "Go
now. You need rest."

 
She was right, I
thought as I staggered back to Shelly's room, dropped onto my sleeping mat, and
slept.

The light of morning filled the room as I heard Shelly get
out of bed.

"You were out late last night," she said.
"Did you enjoy your session?"

"No. Unless you call being chased by a giant fiery
monster with a flaming sword entertaining. I don’t think I've ever been that
scared in my life."

"Why did she do it?"

"A lesson. One I'll never forget." I barked a
laugh. "I’d rather fight a hand of Ojaza warriors than that child-like
looking little girl. If she wanted, she could rule the kingdom."

"That's what terrifies the dukes. These Cheyo schooled
people have enough power to eventually gain control of the dukedoms,"
Shelly said. "That would mean I’d never become a duchess, so you and I
will have to stop them."

"Yes, Lady Shelly. We will have to stop them."