Tivi's Dagger Read online

  Later, when we were back on the well-travelled path by the river, I noticed that Kari had an earring in his right lobe and was fingering it with a half-smile on his lips. The skin around the piercing was pink but he did not seem to notice any pain. It was a silver hoop, from which hung a tiny piece of bone carved into the shape of a narrow fang.

  “What’s this?” I asked, falling into step beside him.

  He smiled, and I felt my mouth mirroring his. “It is my first ring, Nedim.”

  There was obviously some significance that I missed and the blank look must have showed on my face, for he whispered in my ear. “In honor of my first lover.”

  I remembered the cluster of rings that had dangled from Mother Kiti’s ears, and her talk of having known numerous men in her time. How many rings would hang from my ears if I hailed from Methar? Too many to fit on, I imagined, barely able to remember most of my lovers’ names. For the first time in my life I did not feel so proud about that. I smiled at Kari with a mixture of happiness and faint consternation. What if Brin were to realize the significance of the piercings?

  “What are you two whispering about?” Brin barked. “Get a move on. We have a long way to go.”

  “Nothing, brother.” I sighed and picked up the pace.

  We followed the river until the sun was high in the sky. It began to curl right and eventually we came to a divergence in the road, marked by a signpost which was tree-like in the number of branches that pointed in different directions. The place names were carved in unfamiliar rune-like symbols, and I realized we had ventured further into Methar than most traders from Lis who would have needed the common translation.

  Just as Kari was folding the map away, flashes of silver darting through the trees to our left caught my eye. It was a group of monks perhaps thirty strong, moving swiftly and silently through the forest. My first glimpse of Tivi’s warriors, the Methari army.

  “I wonder where they’re going,” I observed.

  A faint crease appeared between Kari’s brows. “They are going in the same direction we are.” He pointed to a branch on the signpost and tapped the symbols with a worried look on his face. “The shorter route through Khar Tam. It will take perhaps three days to get to the caverns, according to the distance on the signpost. It is greater than I’d remembered, or surmised from this map.”

  “And that’s not good because…?” Lana looked at him expectantly.

  “Tivi’s warriors do not travel in such a manner for no reason. Certainly, they’ve been alerted to something ahead. We will have to sleep under the stars tonight. We cannot hope to reach the next village before nightfall. Perhaps there will be another Pilgrim’s Rest, but they are not marked and I do not remember exactly where they are.” He scratched his head and pointed to the left where the rocky path plunged into the trees. Rising above the thick forest head lay two tall peaks crowned with mist. “There are two ways onward — the shorter leads through the mountain, carved out long ago. It will be dark and infested with spiders.”

  I swallowed. “You mean those goat-sized things you talked of before?”

  “Among others.”

  “Wait, what?” Lana stood, hands on hips. “No one ever mentioned goat-sized spiders to me.”

  Kari turned to Brin. “There is another path which will lead us around the mountain, but there will be a sheer drop on one side and the wind is unpredictable. Taking that route will also add more time to the journey. It is your decision which to select. My grandmother and I were blessed with fine weather that day so we took the outside path, but I know how impatient you are to reach Thar Mati.”

  “By the Gods, let’s just press on.” Brin snatched the map from Kari and tucked it into a pouch on the donkey. “We won’t get anywhere standing here biting air, and we need to get to that village as soon as possible to offload these wretched rolls of silk. The donkey has his limits.”

  “Don’t worry, Lana,” Kel said, with a smile of false bravado. “I’ll protect you from any spiders.”

  “How? Do you plan to write them to death with your quill?” She laughed. “I have my daggers and no intention of dying in the maw of any beast.”

  “She’s not known as Lana Six Blades for nothing,” I added with a smile. Lana met my eyes with a knowing wink, no doubt recalling, as I was, her incredible talent for pin-finger. The profits from her endeavors had allowed us to live like kings on the Pirates’ Isles and garnered some respect from even the most hardened and well-practiced of sailors.

  Brin kept up an unforgiving pace, marching us through the trees as if he were leading a battalion, stopping only to let us eat some dried meat and pickles in silence. Perhaps his mind was on the poisonous creatures that lurked in the darkness ahead, or the dizzying precipice I hoped we would not venture along. I was less afraid of the darkness than of plunging to my death down the side of the mountain. Had it come to this now, deciding upon the manner of my death? What on earth had inspired Brin to undertake such a treacherous journey? I had listened to little of the detail while he was making his plans, and now I wished I had paid more attention.

  Perhaps I might have avoided the Rite altogether, had I just had the sense to rein in the worst of my excesses until Brin had simmered down after his excommunication, rather than flaunting them under his very nose.

  Stu-pid Ned-im, stu-pid. My feet crunched out my thoughts on the gravelly path. It’s a pilgrimage, it’s not meant to be fun. Lana had remarked upon that fact before we’d even left the gates of Azmara, with the smell of roasted rat kebabs from the street sellers still lingering in our nostrils. Now, faced with the prospect of necromancers and the walking dead, giant spiders and the mysterious caverns beneath Khar Tam, I felt a rush of homesickness and longed more than ever to be feet-up on my balcony looking down at the world, rather than right in the middle of all its dangers.

  As the peak ahead grew larger and the sun sank behind it, the trees thinned and soon we could see the black mouth of the tunnel yawning out of the dark gray stone. Near the entrance was an oddly small hut, not big enough to house any weary pilgrims, with no windows but a regular series of tiny square openings cut into the wood. Kari brightened at the sight of it. “Look!” he exclaimed. “It’s a message post. The Keeper’s home should be nearby. Perhaps he will allow us to shelter there for the night.”

  Cheered at the thought of not sleeping in dangerous circumstances, the spring returned to my step. Kari paused at the hut and peered through one of the openings. There were noises coming from within, shuffling and cawing. Then he opened the front face to reveal several pale birds sitting on roosts inside, blinking sleepily in the sudden light. Their soft feathers were puffed up and they were ready for sleep. Around each of their ankles was a silver ring, one of which was stuffed with a tiny roll of parchment.

  Gently, Kari lifted the bird and removed the message. “I will bring it to the Keeper to save him the journey. Come, let’s find the home. It must be near.”

  It was not a quarter mile after that we came across the clearing. The Keeper’s hut was not large, but it looked sturdy enough. A pile of wood lay half-chopped to the right of the entrance, the axe propped up against the wall. There was a stone well with a full bucket hanging from the rope; some tiny red-feathered birds were perched along the rim, sipping and ruffling their feathers. The door to the hut was open.

  Kari knocked a few times then went inside, only to reappear with a frown. “The food on the table is sprouting maggots and the fire is dead in the grate. I’d say he hasn’t been here this two or three days.” He looked around. “And yet his horse is tethered yonder.”

  The wind felt suddenly chilly as I glanced at Brin, wondering what he would do. The forest was strangely silent, apart from the gentle rustling of the trees around us.

  “What does the message say?”

  Kari pulled it from his pocket and unraveled the scrap of parchment. “It is forbidden to read it, but under the circumstances…” His lips formed the words as he read, then his face pal
ed. “The King asks all Keepers to be alert for Night Walkers and to remain indoors until guards are sent. Agents of the Blood Red have been spotted, it doesn’t say where. I’d speculate that the warriors we’ve just seen are on their way to deal with them. Let’s hope they do so, and soon.”

  Brin’s lips formed a thin line. “Let’s go looking for the man before nightfall, then. I’ll bet he’s fallen foul of one of these spiders you speak of, or some other banal thing.”

  “I hope so.”

  “I’ll come with you, Brindar.” Lana had fixed her belt so her daggers swung at her sides within easy reach.

  Kel and I looked at each other. Neither of us was adept at the sword, nor particularly brave. “Kel, you stay here and clean up this hut,” Brin said, as if reading our minds. “Throw out that rotten food and get a fire going. It will be a cold night. Ned, with me.”

  “Yes, brother.” I rubbed my hands together, trying to get some warmth into my fingers which were suddenly freezing cold. What on earth did Brin think I could do were we to be faced with some walking abomination? One year of fencing at school and the occasional drunken duel over the dubious honor of a merchant’s wife had not prepared me for the dangers that lurked in the wilds. I had a little magic too, inherited from my maternal grandmother but, forbidden to use it for so long, I was not sure if any trace remained. In any case, I had forgotten how to direct it. Brin believed the magic — like all my other flaws — could simply be prayed away. Perhaps, in this, he had been successful.

  As we stepped outside I reminded myself that it was not yet dark; that all we were doing was searching for the Keeper who had, more likely than not, simply ensnared himself in one of the animal traps I’d noticed upon entering the forest.

  Keeping the cabin in sight, we scouted around the area for a while until it was clear that dusk was gathering and we could hardly see under the thick canopy of leaves above us. Just as we were about to give up, Lana grabbed Brin’s arm.

  “What’s that?”

  We peered through the tree trunks and my heart missed a beat.

  There was a body on the forest floor.

  “The Keeper,” Kari said, and we went over to get a closer look.

  In life the Keeper had been a robust, muscular man with wind-scalded cheeks and thick black hair. But now his milky eyes stared blindly at the sky and his mouth gaped open, tongue dark with flies. His clothes had been ripped down the front and entrails spilled out of the stomach cavity, stinking like rotten meat. The stench of the body and the buzzing of the flies made my guts lurch. “By the Gods,” I said, shaking my head. “Some scavengers have feasted upon this poor wretch’s corpse.”

  Brin looked grim. “It was no scavenger. This was the manner of his death. Look how the blood is spattered about the place, on those tree trunks, on the forest floor. His guts were ripped from his body.”

  Lana knelt beside the body and lifted the torn edge of the man’s shirt. “Kind of scooped out, maybe by claws? It’s quite a clean wound, no teeth marks, no organs eaten or even chewed, as far as I can see. And look,” she wiggled the bone-handled dagger, still sheathed at the man’s belt. “He had no time to even draw his weapon, when surely he saw its approach. Kari, what manner of beast lives in these woods that could do such a thing?”

  Kari was staring at the body, his mouth working wordlessly, his face the color of dough. My heart softened as I remembered how young he was. There was little in a dusty tome or a trainer’s yard that could prepare a man — warrior or not — for the sight of a murdered body such as the one lying in front of us. A faint breeze lifted the needles from the forest floor and blew them gently onto the Keeper’s open eyes. Kari’s hands began to tremble. He was clearly in a state of shock.

  Lana put her hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get you back to the hut.”

  He allowed us to lead him a further twenty paces or so before leaning against a tree and hurling up the contents of his stomach. I rubbed his back and whispered platitudes as he gasped and retched. It’s all right, don’t worry, I’m here. Brin gave me a strange look, then walked off in the direction of the hut where smoke was beginning to curl from the chimney.

  Lana turned to me. “Brin will want to bury the body while there’s still light.”

  I looked at the darkening sky. “He’ll have to dig fast.”

  “I’ll help him. You look after Kari.”

  “Wait!” Kari blurted out. “It’s not proper to bury him in the earth. There are rituals to complete, prayers and…”

  Lana cut in. “Kari, the stink of him will attract other beasts, if not the same one that slaughtered him in the first place. It is not safe for us to leave him lying there.”

  As we approached the hut, Brin emerged with two spades. “It is all I could find,” he said, handing one to Lana. “Let’s be fast. It will be dark very soon.”

  It struck me that Brin was behaving as if Lana was the only competent one around. Apparently I could not be trusted even to dig a hole. What other slights would he come up with? I glared at him and steered Kari inside, my hand on his back.

  Kel had been busy inside the hut. A fire was crackling in the grate with a generous supply of wood piled up to one side that would surely keep it going all night. The table was clean and laid out with a spread of whatever he had salvaged from the Keeper’s cupboards — chunks of stale bread, a pot of stew recently heated on the fire, pickled roots in bowls. The stench of the corpse still lingered in my nostrils but it had been some time since our hurried lunch, and my stomach was starting to grumble.

  Kari sank into a chair, staring into the fire.

  “Terrible news,” Kel said, chewing a heel of stale bread with great effort. “Was it a Night Walker? What are we to do now?”

  I shrugged. “I have no idea. I suppose we will have to wait for Brin to decide, once he’s buried the body.”

  “Will you look for the Keeper’s parchments?” Kari was suddenly animated. “I must send a message about what’s happened here. The nearest Temple will likely be in the next village, on the other side of the mountain.”

  The scraps of parchment, sliced carefully into tiny strips, were in a drawer in the cabinet beside the fire. As I pulled one out, I noticed a likeness of a woman in a simple wooden frame, propped up against some thick books. It was a faded painting but done in intricate detail. Her eyes were smiling, curls lightened by age framing her heart-shaped face.

  “Did he live alone?”

  “Looks like it. I do not see the hand of a woman in this grim décor.” Kel waved his hand at the dark walls and dusty surfaces devoid of any decorative trinkets. The floor looked rarely swept, the rugs faded and threadbare.

  Kari scratched a message in intricate runes then blew on the parchment to dry the ink. “I will send word of what’s happened to the Keeper. We should wait here until a response comes.”

  “Won’t that take days?”

  The color was slowly coming back into Kari’s cheeks. “It should not, for the birds are swift. But this is a serious situation. The security of our land depends on this system of messages, so we cannot simply abandon the birds. They must be tended to until a new Keeper is assigned, otherwise they may fly home to the hills and take their messages with them.”

  I walked with him back to the bird hut and helped him attach the message to the bird’s ankle. It was one of the pale morning birds that nested in the temples. A type of raven, perhaps, unfamiliar to me with its beige feathering and bluish beak. It cocked its head and looked at Kari with an intelligent eye. He whispered something to it and then threw it into the air, watching as it fluttered then took wing, circling around the mountain and away. Then we filled the trough inside the hut with seed and closed the door.

  Finally, it had grown dark. Kari took my hand as we walked silently through the trees and back to the Keeper’s hut. Lana and Brin had not yet returned and I stared out of the window into the night, slightly fearful. I sat down at the table with Kel and took a spoonful of stew, imagining the
look on my brother’s face when Kari proposed a delay to our pilgrimage in order to linger near the site of a brutal killing with the purpose of feeding birds. We ate silently as the fire crackled in the grate emitting dancing shadows around the dim room. The stew was cooling but the flavors had blended together well, crunchy roots and ground meat in a thick, smoky gravy.

  Kel lit a few candles and pulled out his books. I thought of the hands that had cut the vegetables we had just eaten, the man who had set the traps outside, the woman in the picture. It felt like we were sitting in a mausoleum and I was glad the clock had not been wound up so I did not have to listen to the long seconds that my brother and best friend were spending out there in the darkness.

  Eventually Brin and Lana returned, filth and sweat shining on their exposed skin. Lana sat down at her bowl of cold stew and sniffed her armpits. “By the Gods, I reek worse than a field of rotting onions! Is there any facility for washing in this place?”

  Kel pointed at a door behind. “There is a tiled room in there, and a pipe leading to a tank on the roof. Perhaps there is still water, although I doubt it’s warm.”

  Surprisingly, Brin agreed to Kari’s request that we stay in the hut until we received a response to his message. Perhaps he was also fearful of the tunnel that lay ahead, although it did not show on his face. He took his box and commandeered the Keeper’s tiny bedroom for himself, leaving the rest of us to sleep where we saw fit. There were few options, and I found myself that night wriggling on the hard floor on a rug that smelt of damp and years, shivering under a scratchy blanket with a half-empty sack of rice as a pillow.

  “This is comfortable,” I grumbled, trying to imagine I was lying on the silk sheets of my soft bed at home and failing.

  Lana wriggled beside me and sighed. “I fear we will suffer worse discomforts than this.”