Tivi's Dagger Read online

  ***

  After leaving the Pilgrim’s Rest, our path veered sharply upwards once more, diverging from the seemingly well-travelled road beside the river. Our bellies were comfortably full from the delicious stew Kari had managed to produce from such innocuous ingredients. As dusk began to advance, Brin paused by a stream to allow the donkey to drink. “Why are we taking this detour?” he barked at Kari, who — since our encounter in the woods — had been strolling along with a dreamy expression on his face and saying little, which gave me a slight cause for panic. Brin was not unobservant, although his mind was clearly focused on his own troubles. I’d noticed more than once how his fingertips would trace circles over the site of the brand on his chest as if he was trying to brush it away, or check that it was still there.

  “We cannot sleep under the stars as you had originally wished,” Kari said. “There is a temple at the top of this mountain, where we will be safe.”

  “But it adds a half-day to our journey.”

  “Better a half-day more than…” Kari looked at his feet. “Perhaps you do not know it, Brindar. It is rumored that the Night Walkers have returned, commanded across the border from the un-named land by the remnants of the Blood Red.”

  Brin let out an exasperated noise. “Night Walkers? The Blood Red? Bah! Nothing but superstitious nonsense and fairy tales. Do you seriously expect me to believe there is still necromancy in the world? Such practices have been unheard of and proscribed this hundred-year, and those warlords are long in their graves.”

  “I do not expect you to do anything but trust me, tiyal. I know this land, and you do not.”

  “You’ve barely ventured out of that Temple.”

  “You’ve never been to Methar at all.”

  Brin looked furious, and Lana grinned. “I think he has you there, Brindar. Telthor’s balls, let us move! Perhaps there will be another bathing pool ahead where we can get you naked again. My eyes are suddenly craving the pleasing sight of man flesh, amidst all this wearisome greenery.”

  “Woman, I swear by the Thirteen…” Brin began through clenched teeth, but Lana was already striding up the path, daggers swinging jauntily at her hips.

  “Night Walkers, indeed.” Kel said, as we brought up the rear. “I have read of such things in my studies.”

  “What are they?” I had one eye on Kari’s firm buttocks as he followed Lana up the path ahead.

  “The living dead, raised by a terrible spell which pulls a fragment of the soul back from Paradise, enough only to animate the body. It’s said that they walk only at night because if they were to catch their reflection in the light of day the shock would send the fragment rushing back to whence it came, and the spell would be broken. After the theft of the Treaty of Khar Tam, which led to the Second Splintering, the warlords of the Blood Red raised Night Walkers as soldiers, a nigh-invincible army to march against the city itself. Not surprisingly, it fell fast to their advance. For what can kill that which is already dead?” He heaved his pack more firmly onto his shoulders with a grimace. “At least, that’s the theory. The Protectors would now have us believe that such things never existed at all and that Khar Tam fell because the King was a heretic, punished by the Thirteen for his wickedness.”

  “If the Protectors deny the story, then it must be true. By the Gods, what an appalling spell!” Giving Kel my full attention at last, I contemplated who on earth would ever have come up with such a ghastly use for magic. “And what need for it? It’s not as though any warlord cannot find enough idle young men with a thirst for battle and glory, who can walk in the day as well as the night.”

  “True, but mortal men need to sleep and can be injured, whereas Night Walkers cannot. In daylight hours it’s said that the animated body falls to the ground, a mere corpse once more. You may bury it or burn it, it matters not. The thing will rise once again when the sun is down, as long as the bones remain unscattered.”

  I shivered. “It’s a dark magic you speak of, indeed. I hope Brin is correct, that we may never see such a thing.”

  “If there is one thing that history teaches us consistently, it’s that men have ever committed dark and wicked acts in the pursuit of power. Necromancy is truly the worst kind of abomination: black magic of old, long since forbidden in Lis. That’s one thing we should thank the Protectors for, certainly.”

  “The only thing,” I grumbled, puffing harder as the incline grew steeper. “What do you know of these caverns we’ll pass through?”

  Kel shrugged. “Nothing, sadly. It’s hard enough these days to find a text about Khar Tam that the Protectors haven’t already revised. I was not aware that anything lay beneath the ruins but rock. But we’ll see, won’t we? This pilgrimage will be an excellent supplement to my education, I’m sure of it!”

  Barely able to catch my breath, I scowled once more at the thought of all the tiresome trudgings ahead. “By all the Gods, why did these people have to build all their temples at the top of mountains?”

  “Actually, that’s a very interesting observation, Ned. The founding of holy sites atop mountains is a phenomenon across history and cultures. Many argue it is because the believers wish to be closer to their gods, whereas some scholars have postulated…”

  I sighed and returned my attention to Kari’s backside, instantly regretting my throwaway question. Kel was not much of a believer but he was a passionate scholar of his subject and often assumed erroneously that nearby listeners shared his interests.

  When we finally reached the top of the path, Kari paused at the feet of another statue of Matativi to pray. Brin looked irritated by the delay and rested against the donkey wearily. I took a deep lungful of the cool air and looked around. The Temple was much like the first one we had visited, only a lot smaller and slightly shabbier. The same pale birds were nesting under the rafters of the sloping roof and several goats were tethered to a fence under a sprawling tree.

  I looked at the statue and was struck by how different it was to the others I’d seen.

  What had been a wistful half-twist of the lips was a wide, sunny smile. There were soft dimples in her cheeks and the eyes were slightly lidded, the neck angled slightly as if Matativi was looking down from her plinth and right at me. The hand clasped over her heart was slightly opened in a gesture of sharing. “This is a much nicer statue than the other ones,” I remarked, overcome with a stupid urge to smile back at the blind eyes.

  “What are you talking about?” Brin scoffed. “It’s exactly the same.”

  “No, it’s not. Look at her smile, it’s…bigger.”

  “Rubbish. You may be in need of an eye-glass, brother.” He folded his arms and tapped his foot on the ground, gazing into the mist that was descending on the nearby temple from the peak above.

  Kari had finished his prayers. He stood up and turned to me, grinning. “All the statues are generally carved to the same specifications, Ned. Your brother is correct. Perhaps it is simply your perspective that is different.”

  I stared at the statue, baffled.

  “Now Kari,” Kel began. “It’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you since we started out on this pilgrimage. Your deity has two faces and is represented by two different names. Is she one entity with two faces or two entities in one? The texts at my university are…unenlightening.”

  Kari was beaming with pleasure. “I would be most happy to tell you of our Lady when we have time to pause. If you like, you may also read the Book of Matativi, which I carry in my pack. Unfortunately it is written in an obsolete Methari dialect, which may require some explanation.”

  Kel rubbed his hands together in an explosion of academic glee. “Oh, you mean Lishmenthar? I have studied what I could from the fragments that remain in the archives. By the Gods, what an opportunity! Thank you, Kari. I look forward to it.”

  “You had better keep your opportunities to yourself when we return to Lis,” Brin said, scowling. “The penalty for sharing knowledge of a heretical text is ten years in the Protectors’
prison.”

  Kari turned his smile on my brother with a hard glint in his eyes. “You had better watch what you name as heresy in this land, tiyal.”

  To my astonishment and delight, my brother swallowed and muttered an apology. It was a wonderful moment and I gazed at Kari with something akin to hero worship for handing me the rare opportunity to watch Brin squirm. Kel, obviously uncomfortable, fingered the blue blossoms that spilled from glasses at the statue’s feet.

  “What’s the significance of these flowers?” he asked, clearly hoping to lighten the mood.

  “We call them Mataya Kari, Mata’s blessing. They grow in the darkness, on barren soil and even on stony ground, just as love can touch the bleakest of hearts.”

  “Remarkable!” Lana exclaimed. “They’re beautiful. And is that where your name comes from?”

  “Indeed,” Kari said. “Come, it grows dark. I will announce our presence to the Mother or Father of this monastery. And Brindar, I would suggest you guard your tongue more closely. While we are much more relaxed about many things than the Protectors, the penalty for blasphemy in this land is as harsh as it is in Lis.”

  Again Brin squirmed; again I rejoiced.

  Sometime later we were ensconced in another austere room at the back of the Temple to share dinner with the Father of the monastery. He spoke little of the common tongue, and spent most of the meal asking Kari questions. The food was simple but delicious. Beautifully served on trays on small ceramic dishes, there was a selection of crunchy roots, delicately pickled and sweet, brown beans in a thick sauce, and a bowl of fluffy mash with the aroma of jasmine. Again I heard the same phrases as before: tiyallan, Thar Mati, kath mai. At the mention of the last one, the old monk drew a line across his heart.

  “We speak of the Night Walkers,” Kari explained. “He is asking if we have encountered any so far.”

  Then the wine was served and I thought no more of such terrible things. We held our glasses to the sky and drank, and I sighed with contentment. Brin was behaving himself well and even forced himself to have a second glass. The monks were generous with the alcohol and by the time the meal was done, the old man began to fan himself and unraveled the silver from his head to give us a toothless smile, his lips darkened with wine. His ears, like Mother Kiti’s, sagged with the weight of rings and his skin was leathery and heavily wrinkled.

  I noticed Kari fingering his own earlobe and addressing the Father with a grin, to which the old man responded with a hearty laugh and a slap on the back and a barrage of rapid Methari. Kari looked exquisite at that moment, his face illuminated by candlelight, so happy and peaceful. I crunched the last of my pickles and sighed with contentment.

  “Father Koli bids you welcome, and wishes you peace in your dreams,” Kari said eventually, standing up. “I’ll lead you now to where we are to sleep. A donation to the Temple would be most welcome. In the morning, I’ll show you where to make it.”

  There was no pool, I was sorry to note, but while we were eating the monks had filled a bath tub in a tiled room. One by one, we scrubbed off the dirt of the day and sluiced ourselves with a nearby bucket before taking some minutes just to lie up to our earlobes in the hot water and allow the soreness to float from our muscles. As I watched the candlelight flicker over the tiles — beautifully decorated with intricately painted blue flowers — I was finally glad to be exactly where I was. The customs of the people of Methar were genuinely fascinating and wonderful to me.

  My tongue loosened by wine and heat, I shared my observations as we prepared ourselves for sleep, all five of us crammed into that small room on thick mattresses that smelled of straw.

  “All this cleanliness…even the drinking of wine, it’s all so…civilized. You raise your glass all together, and it’s so comradely, and —”

  Kari laughed. “Actually, it is not such a lovely custom. The tradition of using glasses and holding them to the sky makes it easier to ascertain if the drink has been poisoned.”

  “Oh.” I lay down on my mattress, suddenly weary. It had been an exhausting day. Brin was already asleep, his arm draped over his precious box. Kel sat cross-legged on his mattress, engrossed in the Book of Matativi and scrawling in his notebook, muttering to himself. Lana lay facing me with her back to Kel, eyes closed, her breathing slipping quickly into the rhythms of sleep.

  “You don’t mind if I study a while longer?” Kel whispered, when he realized everyone else was already tucked under the covers.

  “Go ahead,” I muttered, turning my back to Lana to face Kari.

  The candles were burning low, and Kel’s quill scratched furiously at the paper. Under the covers, I took Kari’s hand and he turned to me and smiled sleepily. He stroked a strand of hair out of my eyes and squeezed my hand. We gazed at each other for a while, then his eyes slipped shut and I watched him fall sleep, his lips slightly parted, his hand warm and loose in mine.

  ***

  The next morning I woke to the screeching of the pale birds and a shaft of dawn light on my face, shining in through the high window. I opened my eyes to see Kari’s sleeping face not an inch from mine. Sometime in the night we had edged closer together and my leg was hooked around his. His hand was folded in mine and my other hand rested on his pillow, his curls tangled in my fingers.

  Horrified, I sprang away and he jolted awake. I spun around to see Lana shift in her sleep and Kel slumped over his books, snoring loudly. His inkpot had spilled on the floor and the stain was soaking into his mattress.

  My brother’s bed was empty, the covers pulled and smoothed as if he had never slept there at all.

  I rubbed my hand over my mouth, suddenly fearful. What had Brin seen? What was going through his mind now? Even in your sleep you fornicate, you disgusting wretch. Perhaps he already had the whip in his hand and was waiting for the opportunity to use it once more, away from the eyes of our companions.

  Kari brushed the sleep from his eyes. “What’s wrong, Ned?”

  “We were sleeping a bit too close,” I whispered. “And my brother…”

  I had to find him, to learn what he’d seen and get the lashing over with, if that was his intention. I got up and pulled on my clothes and blundered out into the yard in a state of near-panic, my boots not yet fastened.

  The mist had lifted in the night. A stream trickled somewhere nearby and the goats were sleeping in a clump. The pines were lush and green and smelled of rain. I spotted my brother dressed in simple leathers and sitting cross-legged on the ground near the goats, his head in his hands. I had not seen him dressed in such a fashion for many years. Without his Protector’s armor he seemed diminished, younger-looking, almost a different person.

  I walked toward him, heart thumping with trepidation. “Good morning, brother.”

  He glared up at me through puffy, reddened eyes and rubbed his face. His fingertips made a scratchy sound against the curly beard that was growing thicker by the day. Since we had left Lis, he had not bothered to shave. I was shocked by the darkness which pooled in half-circles under his eyes.

  “Did you have trouble sleeping?”

  “Not more than usual.”

  I sat beside him and held my breath, waiting for the outburst, but none came.

  “Why have you not donned your armor?”

  He picked up a handful of stones and let them fall through his fingers and clatter onto the ground. “I am not a Protector anymore, Ned. It is time I stopped decorating myself so. In any case, it’s tiresome to walk such distances in plate.”

  There was a silence. Then I gained enough courage to ask the question that had burned in my heart for some months. “What exactly happened to you back in Azmara, Brin?”

  He sighed. “You know very well what they did to me. The notice of my excommunication was posted on our very gatepost for all to see. I suppose I should count myself fortunate that Pol did not have me executed, as he did my partner. Let it rest.”

  His command held no anger, just a weary resignation. It was the first time
Brin had mentioned the fate of Salthras Kadilian, a jovial man with a well-kept moustache that curled at the ends and who was a frequent guest at our dinner table, often gorging himself to the point of sickness but miraculously gaining no girth. My father had adored Sal and had taken to his bed for days upon the announcement of his execution. Brin had disliked Sal when they were initially assigned as partners, but after years of serving together he had finally managed to make my priestly brother smile.

  I wondered if Brin would ever smile again after everything that had happened.

  As if to illustrate the futility of such thoughts, he looked at me with a scowl. “Anyway, let us not make idle chatter. I must prepare the donkey, and you should get dressed properly. Put your tunic back on, at least. Those britches are indecent and that shirt is too bright. This is a pilgrimage, not a fashion parade.”

  My mouth dropped open and I stared at my brother’s back as he made his way to the stable where the donkey was tethered. After all these years Brin could still surprise me, and not in a good way. My shirt was perhaps a shade too close to yellow, but I couldn’t bear the dismal sight of pilgrim brown. I noticed a red wine stain near the hem and fingered the fine material, wistfully remembering the marvelous vintage it came from. My britches had been tailor-made from the finest and softest tan leather and were crafted — as was the latest fashion — to subtly enhance one’s goods, not to display them in the crude manner of merchandise. I comforted myself with the thought that the one benefit of the ghastly pilgrim’s tunic was that the wearing of it would at least keep my brother from further complaints. Glumly, I wondered what other minor aspects of my character and appearance he would disparage along the way, and looked forward once more to being back in Azmara and free of his “instruction”.

  The monks were starting to wake and go about their daily business. Two silver-clad figures passed me silently, and their eyes shifted to me without much warmth. I gave a slight bow which they returned but I got the impression that they were not particularly pleased about the presence of outsiders in their midst. Had Kari not been with us perhaps they would not have given us shelter at all.