“Yes. I must.”
While the children looked uneasily at Adessa, the father lit candles and built a fire in the stone-lined hearth. Soon, the interior was bathed in warm, comforting light.
The younger children ran to their beds, huddling together. The older brother stood uncertainly beside his father, while the mother moved about the kitchen, opening the larder to see what they had left to eat. She sighed in dismay. “That man ate most of our supplies. I have part of a ham, smoked catfish, and some cheese.” She scrutinized a rock-hard heel of bread. “This is old and stale.”
“I will eat it,” Adessa said. “I don’t know how long Wizard Commander Maxim lived here alone, but he would never deign to bake his own bread.”
“I might find a chicken in the yard, wring its neck,” the father suggested. “We’ll have a proper feast, if you’re willing to wait.”
Adessa considered, but shook her head. “I need to be on my way.”
Though he had felt obligated to make the offer, the man seemed relieved when she declined.
The mother set out whatever food she could scrounge and called the children from their beds to the wooden table. Adessa set the severed head on the corner next to where she would eat.
The father regarded her awkwardly. “I have water from the cistern. You can wash before you eat. You have?.?.?.?blood on you.”
Adessa looked at her bare skin, at the scarred designs that had been burned by hot irons as she earned each rune of protection. Maxim’s blood covered her arms and abdomen, and rusty red flecks caked the black leather band around her chest. The speckles made mysterious patterns, drying to form a meaning, a message that she couldn’t understand. “The blood of my victim is a mark of honor. Why would I wash it off?”
The mother quickly sliced the ham, fish, and cheese, and they shared cups of water, though the conversation was awkward. Adessa ate ravenously, paying little attention to the taste as she absorbed the nourishment she required. Now that the wizard commander was dead, she tried to feel the remnants of the blood magic inside her, but she had used it all. Her unborn child had given her the magical strength she needed to kill a powerful wizard, and now she was back to her normal self—and her normal self was powerful indeed.
The family ate in nervous silence, unable to look away from the gruesome head resting on the corner of their table. The neck stump left a rusty stain on the wood. From now on, whenever they looked at the mark, the Farrier family would remember her.
“You can bury his body out in the yard,” she said after finishing the stale lump of bread she had promised to eat.
The father stared at her, then nodded. “We will get rid of it.”
The younger children whimpered.
Adessa wolfed down her food. “I must be moving now.” She gulped the last of the water in her cup. “I have many miles to travel upriver.”
“We’ll help you be on your way,” the father blurted out a little too quickly, though it was still many hours before dawn. “Can we give you supplies? What do you need for your journey?”
The mother offered, “There’s more in Gant’s Ford. Down in the town you can stock up on any provisions you require.”
“I need little.” Adessa checked her weapons, the dagger and short sword she had brought from Ildakar, the morazeth agile knife clipped to her side, which could bring such intense pain with just a touch. As she lifted Maxim’s head by the hair, she reconsidered. “There is one thing you could give me. I need a sack.”
The mother scurried about the kitchen until she produced an empty burlap sack that had been filled with millet. Adessa thanked her and stuffed Maxim’s head inside, twisted the end around her wrist, and turned to the door of the cottage. “I will be on my way.”
CHAPTER 6
The strange, shadowy people in Orogang closed around Nicci with outstretched hands, as if they intended to overwhelm her by sheer force of numbers. They rustled as they moved, unnaturally quiet.
When she reached out for her gift, she struggled with a wave of unsettling nausea that lingered inside her from the abortive sliph journey. The silvery creature had damaged her somehow, maybe accidentally, maybe intentionally. Where was the sliph? Nicci needed to go!
As the strange, muttering people closed in, she drew her two daggers and held them out in a threatening gesture. “I have no quarrel with you, but I will defend myself.” She backed to the base of the towering Utros statue. “I don’t want to kill you.”
One of the hooded figures cried out in gibberish, some dialect Nicci didn’t understand. More voices joined in, sounding frantic. Another spoke in slurred, deeply accented words that sounded like, “Take her! Not much time.” The people carried no weapons, no swords or knives, not even sticks or clubs, but their numbers had doubled into an alarming force in just a few moments. They closed in on her.
A third voice was more agitated. “Sun is rising! Hide.”
Facing them, Nicci slashed the air with her daggers to ward them off. As dawn brightened over the mountain crags, the strange people grew desperate. Several more of the shadowy people emerged, waving antique-looking swords. They howled, a sound of deep alarm. As Death’s Mistress, Nicci would have had no qualms simply incinerating them all with a wash of wizard’s fire, but these gaunt, scuttling figures were obviously frightened of something. Right now her command of magic seemed uncertain, yet it was her best way to drive away so many without massacring them.
She thrust one dagger back into its sheath and extended her arm, palm outward. Despite the throbbing in her head, she called up her gift and formed a wall of air as a defense. The invisible battering ram knocked aside five encroaching strangers, and they tumbled back into their fellows, but the crowd closed in from opposite directions. Their voices became more understandable, though it remained a distorted dialect.
“Take her! Inside the buildings!”
“Hurry! The sunlight!”
Though she reeled, weak and dizzy, Nicci found enough strength to blast with air again, shoving more of the people away from her. Hands grabbed her shoulders from behind. Four of the silent strangers had climbed over the base of the Utros statue to attack her from an unexpected side. They jumped on her, tried to drag her down. The drab people fell upon her like wolves on a wounded deer.
She spun, used her gift to form a circular whirlwind that shoved them all away. “Stay back!” Lashing out, she stabbed her dagger between the ribs of a gaunt woman, who collapsed, bleeding onto the statue general’s feet. Others immediately whisked the injured victim away and took her to one of the buildings. The dark, open doorways looked like toothless mouths.
Her eyes flashed from target to target as the mob hesitated but p
ressed in, looking for any opening. Why did they want her so badly? Nicci decided the time for patience was over, and she couldn’t allow herself softness or sympathy. She concentrated on the hardness inside her, the heart of black ice that was Nicci’s strength when emotions were a vulnerability. It was her shield against love, although Richard had taught her that love itself could be a different kind of strength. Through him, Nicci had learned a new respect for helping people and fighting for a greater good, but she couldn’t forget her other strengths.
As the desperate hands reached out to grab her, she called up her gift, ready to release more destructive magic. “Leave me alone, or you will all die.”
“All die!” shouted a man in the crowd. “The zhiss can’t have her!” They pushed forward as if it were a rallying cry.
Nicci called a band of lightning from the sky to blast the flagstones of the plaza, a clear warning. It shattered a long furrow and hurled four of the gray-robed people aside. She whirled in her black dress, ready for the next foolish challenger. She would drive them all away. As the daylight brightened, she could see their expressions, which were oddly fearful and yearning, not bloodthirsty. That gave her pause again. Did she really need to kill them?
“Take her!” shouted one woman. “Hurry.”
The people surged forward as if they’d already forgotten the powers Nicci had just demonstrated, and she was forced to blast another dozen with a second bolt of lightning. But the hooded people didn’t seem to care; they only wanted to capture her.
Several surprised her by throwing a crudely woven net over her from behind. Weighted with stones, the net drove Nicci to her knees, but she hunched her back and released a burst of heat that incinerated the tangled strands. She rose back to her feet, brushing off strings of ashes.
Striking out with greater power, Nicci made the ground tremble, loosening the flagstones and shifting the earth. An ornamental pillar on the other side of the square toppled. She flung out her hand and pushed a wall of wind into the crowd, but they came at her from different sides. There were so many people. So many!
