The Glass of Dyskornis Read online

  If Tarani can’t manipulate me, maybe I’m immune to Gharlas, too.

  Suddenly I was awake. An odd, scary feeling crept over me.

  If I were the All-Mind, trying to preserve a world threatened by a single madman, what better way than to create his opposite? Someone who is insane in such a way as to cancel out the dangerous craziness?

  In Gandalara, where the only two kinds of weather were hot and hotter, I felt a positive chill at that moment.

  And wouldn’t it be convenient if the new fool were in a position of power, at least potentially? Like a son of Serkajon’s house, who logically could be named to the Captaincy of the Sharith, provided he didn’t turn out feeble-minded?

  Well, that lets me out, I laughed, trying to shake off the disturbing mood. I must be feeble-minded to think of such a thing. First things first. Tomorrow we find Tarani.

  I had strange dreams, filled with the sound of Tarani’s humming. When I woke, just after dawn, my eyes focused on the point of a sword, about four inches from my face.

  There was a person, tall and slim, dressed in desert garb, on the other end of that sword. A headcloth was tied to cover her head and drape one corner down her back. But even without the distinctive dark head fur showing, I had no difficulty recognizing Tarani.

  That’s one way to find her. That’s some weapon she smuggled into Thagorn. Or maybe she stole it from a house before she left. Looks like she knows how to use it, too. How the hell did she sneak in here … the humming! Stupid, the humming!

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Thymas and his sha’um, both of them sound asleep. I reached for Keeshah with my mind, but he was out cold, too.

  Tarani was staring down at me with those compelling and disturbing eyes. Her face and hands showed tiny scratches, evidence that she had fought her way through the choked brush, rather than follow the road. She held Rika, point to the ground, in her left hand.

  She must have some effect on me, I decided, or I would have felt her take the sword from my baldric.

  “May I sit up?” I asked.

  She nodded and stepped back. I sat up and stretched my shoulders, moving slowly. “I have to …”

  “Go ahead,” she said in her low-pitched voice. “I’m not shy.”

  I stood up and turned my back on her, and did what I had to do. Then I turned around slowly. When I was almost facing her, I stepped forward and kicked out at the hand which held my sword. Her grip loosened, and Rika skidded away. She lunged at me, but I dived beneath her blade and rolled, coming to my feet with the satisfying weight of Serkajon’s sword in my hands—just in time to block a vicious overhand cut.

  Tarani recovered quickly, and swung her sword around in an arc to slice across my midsection. I blocked that, too, then feinted a lunge to drive her backward. She dodged around my sword, swinging low to keep me off balance.

  Before she could set herself for another slash, I threw my weight against her, dropping Rika and grabbing her sword wrist as we fell.

  She struggled against my grip with less strength than I had expected. We rolled a couple of times, crushing the tart-smelling ground cover, then I put my full weight on her to hold her down, and forced her to release her sword.

  With no warning, no transition, I found myself lying across the meanest, ugliest female vineh Markasset had ever seen.

  It was sudden enough, and effective enough, to make me jump with surprise. Then I caught the trick, and blinked away the ugly brute.

  As Tarani’s face re-formed, it took on an expression of despair. The dark eyes closed in defeat, and she whispered: “So it is true. I cannot make you see, as I can others.”

  I slid off of her to relieve her lungs of my weight, but I could still feel her chest moving against me as she took short, heavy breaths. Looking at her face more closely now, I could see hollows under her eyes. Creases of tension surrounded her mouth and lined her brow, crisscrossed by the tiny, blood-crusted scratches.

  “How did you know?” I asked her.

  “I sensed it when we met,” she said. “And I heard you say so.”

  “But that was after you left … no, it was after we found the gate open. You just slipped back into the banquet hall and hid yourself in the crowd. Clever.”

  “Not clever. Necessary. That was the first time in years I have tried to make someone do instead of merely see. Eight at once—I had barely enough strength left to cast away sight.”

  “When did you leave Thagorn?”

  “A few hours before dawn. I stayed in the banquet hall, ate all the food I had, then climbed the east wall of the valley.”

  That’s where she got the scratches. I have to give her credit for making it through that wilderness.

  “You heard what went on. You know Dharak was hurt.”

  She was silent for a moment. “Yes,” she said finally. “And I witnessed Thymas’s humiliation.

  “That’s why I have given Thymas sleep. I wanted the chance to convince you to let me go. Thymas would want to help, and he …”

  “He might do more harm than good? You’re probably right.”

  Speaking of Thymas, if he wakes up and finds us in this clinch, neither one of us will score many points with him.

  I rolled away from her and stood up, picking up the swords. She sat up, a little shakily.

  “Where is your bird?”

  “Hunting. She knows where I am.”

  “When she shows up, you control her, or Keeshah will have her for breakfast. Clear?”

  She nodded, her eyes bright.

  “Now,” I said, putting Rika away and tossing Tarani’s sword to one side of the clearing, “I’ll listen. No promises.”

  She sighed. “I had no choice in what I did, Captain. I know you won’t believe it, but I was glad the Living Death failed. I—I’d have grieved for your death.”

  “And I’m sure I’d have appreciated it,” I said. Her shoulders twitched. “The Living Death must be those assassins. Are there more where they came from?”

  “There are many of them, yes, but your danger came from these two, only. Molik was paid for one attempt. Unless he is paid again, there will be no other.”

  I wonder how much Worfit thinks I’m worth, I thought bitterly.

  “Who is this Molik?”

  “A powerful roguelord. He owns most of Chizan, and charges outrageous trade fees from the caravans passing through. He runs all the gaming houses, and controls the water that comes into the city. But his most profitable operation is the Living Death.

  “They are people who know they will die in a year or less. They come to him, and he sets them up to live extremely well for part of the time left to them. In return, they swear to do anything he asks of them, including suicide if they are in danger of capture.

  “Most of them come from Eddarta’s copper mines. I think Molik pays the mine guards to recruit for him.”

  Molik sounds like just the type of friend Worfit would have. That’s not a had setup, a crime ring that is completely untraceable to its leader.

  I wonder if I can believe her. She’s admitted she was in the banquet hall when that guy killed himself. She could be making this up out of whole cloth, to save her own skin.

  “Are you one of them? The Living Death? You look healthy enough to me.”

  “Molik forced me to take two of his men into Thagorn,” she said ignoring my sarcasm. “I have an uncle, Volitar. He is a glassmaker who lives in Dyskornis.”

  Markasset’s none-too-certain geographical knowledge placed Dyskornis somewhere east of Chizan.

  “He is my only living relative,” she continued, and now her voice faltered. “He raised me. My parents died when I was very young. He is the only family I have, and I—he is very important to me.”

  She paused a moment, then went on in a business-like tone. “I was on my way to Thagorn for my regular visit. I had left Volitar in his workshop in Dyskornis. When I reached Chizan, Molik’s men were waiting for me. They took me to Molik, and he said that the Li
ving Death had Volitar and were bringing him to Chizan. At a signal from Molik, they would kill him.”

  “And you just accepted his word for that?” I asked.

  “I am not that stupid,” she retorted scornfully. “I sent Lonna to see, and she reported Volitar traveling south toward Inid, in the company of two men she had never seen before. It was not an idle threat. Molik had Volitar, and he would have killed him.” Her voice sank to a whisper.

  “I couldn’t let Volitar die because of me. I agreed to bring the assassins to Thagorn.”

  “I never thought to hear that from you, Tarani,” said Thymas. He picked himself up from the ground. “Until just now, I hoped there would be some other explanation.”

  I watched Tarani’s face as she looked at Thymas. The eerie and powerful woman I had seen on stage vanished completely under the boy’s punishing stare. She was a girl, sitting cross-legged on the ground, shamed and repentant and vulnerable …

  She’s a trained actress! I reminded myself sharply. She may not be able to cast her illusions for me, but that doesn’t restrain other, more common forms of deception.

  You must know it all, then, Thymas,” she said softly. “I did not know that Rikardon would be in Thagron. When I accepted Molik’s demand, I thought—” She swallowed hard. “I thought the assassins were meant for your father.”

  “What’s that?” I broke in.

  She stood up from the ground and faced me squarely, and once again she was Tarani the illusionist, with the great presence and aura of power. I was conscious of a sense of loss.

  Don’t be a fool, I warned myself sternly. First, you don’t trust her. Second, Thymas is hurting right now, but he still loves her. There’s enough friction between you and him already. Third, you have a lovely lady waiting for you in Raithskar.

  So stick to business.

  “Molik’s instructions,” Tarani was saying, “were to bring those two men into Thagorn and identify ‘the leader of the Sharith.’ I did think he meant Dharak—until Thymas told me about you.”

  “When did you leave Chizan?” I asked.

  “Krydu twice ago.”

  Two weeks and two days ago. The same day I left Raithskar.

  “I hadn’t even reached Thagorn by that time,” I told her.

  “I knew that, from what Thymas said. But it seemed possible to me that Molik knew you would be there. I followed his instructions. I placed the two Living Death at the front of the caravan, and told them that …” Here she hesitated.

  “That the man who got the gold bracelet was their target,” I finished for her. She nodded. I began to do a slow burn. “Weren’t you relieved to find out about me? It meant you didn’t have to make things difficult with Thymas by getting his father killed. I can see the ethics of it—better to kill the stranger than someone you know.”

  By the time I finished, I was shouting. She drew herself up and shouted back at me. “You have no right to—”

  “No right?” I interrupted. “You set me up for a pair of killers!”

  “But I didn’t want you dead! I only wanted my uncle to live.”

  “It was a fair trade, I suppose, his life for mine?”

  “I didn’t know about you!” she cried. “I was willing to trade Dharak’s life for Volitar’s. That should tell you how deeply I care about my uncle!”

  “It’s great that I could give you such a bargain. Kill me and get something for nothing, right?”

  “Yes, that’s right!” she screamed. Her eyes were blazing.

  Thymas stepped between us, a look of alarm on his face. I turned away abruptly and left the camp.

  I found Keeshah, and nudged him awake with my foot. He yawned and blinked up at me.

  *Some sentry you are!* I fumed at him. *Tarani walked right past you into camp.*

  *Woman? No harm,* he said.

  *No harm?* I asked, outraged. *I woke up with a sword only inches from my nose!*

  *Woman hurt you?* he asked, with little concern, since the answer was obvious.

  *No, but that’s no thanks to you!* I said angrily, and stomped back toward the camp. Keeshah’s thought followed me.

  *Grumpy.*

  11

  Grumpy? I was in a towering fury, and I didn’t dare go back to camp in that mood. I turned aside, and pushed my way through the brush, getting some relief from the physical struggle.

  Bad enough that she tried to knock me off, I thought angrily. And that she was able to befuddle Keeshah on the night of the show. Now she seems to have enough pull with him to override my suspicions of her.

  He wasn’t the least bit surprised when I told him she was here. He let her come into the camp.

  I stopped where I was, with one hand lifting a ground-crawling branch of a dakathrenil tree. Ordinarily, I would trust Keeshah’s instincts, but these were no ordinary circumstances. I felt jealous of Keeshah’s trust in Tarani, and of her power to command that trust. I felt betrayed.

  It’s not Keeshah’s fault, I reminded myself.

  I pulled up the branch, walked past it, let it fall.

  Ricardo always had tried to see every side of an argument before choosing sides. I resisted the impulse as long as I could, enjoying my sulk, but all too soon I was thinking: She’s right about one thing. No matter that I was the target. I’m not in any position to sit in judgment.

  I made much the same deal when I killed Worfit’s man, getting out of Raithskar. His death, and Worfit’s persecution, are the price I paid for saving Thanasset. Knowing that, would I change things now?

  No.

  So she fingered me for the killers, instead of Dharak? At the show, Dharak was completely under her spell. If they had attacked him, he’d be dead now. I don’t want that on my conscience.

  So what’s really bothering me?

  The way she did it, came the answer. She put that bracelet on my wrist and pressed it there, and wished me good fortune of it. And when I asked her for that drink, she said: “It would be my pleasure.” Would. Conditional. She meant: “If you’re still alive by then.”

  I really hate it that the warm touch of her hands on my skin was really the touch of death. One thing is clear. If I wouldn’t let Dharak judge Thymas—or tried not to let him—because he was too personally involved, I’d better let him judge Tarani because I’m the one who can’t think straight in this case.

  She disturbs me.

  I was still far from calm, but I wandered back toward camp. Thymas had brought out our supplies, and he and Tarani were sitting far apart, eating breakfast in an awkward, angry silence. I sat down and ate a piece of fruit and a chunk of bread, washing it down with water from one of the waterskins.

  The bird showed up, and settled down on Tarani’s ankle after she finished eating. Lonna was about the size of a large falcon, with the downward-hooked beak of a hawk. She made a soft, hollow sound of pleasure as Tarani stroked her back and the tips of her wings.

  When I was nearly through with my meal, Tarani literally threw the bird away, casting it up into the air to let it spread its enormous wings and settle on a high branch. Tarani came to stand in front of me.

  “I want to go back to Chizan, Captain. After I settle with Molik, and get Volitar out of danger, I will return to Thagorn to be judged for what I have done. You have my promise.

  It was on my tongue to tell her what I thought her promise was worth, but somehow I couldn’t say it.

  “You failed your assignment. How can you save your uncle now?”

  “It was one of the terms that Volitar would be released, no matter what the outcome.”

  “What if Molik refuses?” I asked.

  “He is a businessman; he keeps his bargains,” she said. Her fists clenched. “But if he refuses … I have learned, again, how to compel.”

  “Why didn’t you just do that in the first place?”

  One hand started beating her thigh; she didn’t seem to be aware of the action. “Volitar would not have wished it,” she said. “As long as I can remember, he
has told me that every person deserves a measure of respect, and a fair chance to make his way in the world. He called my skills a special advantage, and said I had a special obligation to respect other people. It took me a long time to convince him that my entertainment illusions were harmless.

  “No, he would not have wanted that kind of help, not even to save his life. He still won’t want it, and I don’t want to do it. That kind of control is a violation of those used, and a degradation of the user,” she declared. “I would not have done it in Thagorn, if it hadn’t been so important to misdirect you. But if there is no other way to free Volitar …

  “May I go to Chizan?”

  I stood up. “Dharak was the one hurt; he will be the one to judge. We’ll go back to Thagorn.”

  Thymas had listened to all this in silence, and now he spoke up from his side of the clearing. “Let her go to Chizan first,” he said. “I will go with her, to make sure she comes back to Thagorn when her business is finished.”

  “No!” Tarani said. “Captain, I must go alone, or Volitar will die—because of me!”

  “Not because of you,” I said. I began clearing away the fruit leavings. “From what you said, you are a victim, as well as your uncle. We’ll go to Thagorn. If Dharak says you can go to Chizan, sha’um can carry you partway there to make up for the time you will have lost.”

  She didn’t say anything, and in a few seconds, I looked up from my work to see her studying me. Her face, her posture, the way her tongue worried her right tusk—everything about her bespoke indecision. I straightened up.

  “Thymas, go away,” I said. “I’d like to speak to Tarani alone for a few minutes.” I glanced at him. It took no special talent to know what he was thinking. “It’s business, Thymas. I won’t touch her.” When he still didn’t move, I added: “You have my word. Now do it.”

  “Tarani?” he said, still uncertain. I held back from reminding him that he had promised obedience, and waited for her answer.

  “I will be safe, Thymas,” she said. “Lonna will come to you when we are through talking.”