Stonewiser: The Heart of the Stone, page 22
Sariah was roaring with laughter. “Forbearance? Right. Now tell me the truth.”
“I thought you were damn brave and mighty feisty. And I did like your looks from the offset, I swear.” He flashed his wolfish grin.
“But you didn't demand an oath from me.”
“A true oath cannot be demanded. You give it freely when you are able and ready to do so and not before.”
Sariah realized then that, for all his attributes, Kael wasn't an able wiser of souls. In a feat of humility foreign to any child of the Guild, he had settled for an uneven arrangement and had committed to give beyond what he expected to receive. In his mind, he had sworn an unreturned oath. Meliahs help her.
“On the other hand … About the blankets …” He hesitated.
“What?”
“Usually people share. Blankets. Decks. Lives.”
“Aye?”
“And, they belong together, as in you belong with me and only with me.”
Nothing unclear about that.
“And they trust each other. They are honest with each other.”
She could almost feel a lecture coming, but to his credit, he refrained from it.
“We can live on my deck. Or on Aya's deck. Or I could build us a new deck if you want.”
That was a bit frightening. She didn't know quite what to say. “You know I can't cook?”
“But I can. And I promise I won't let you poison our babes.”
Babes? Panic clutched at her throat. She had barely begun to accept Kael's presence in her life and now he challenged her again with another impossible, forbidden notion. “You mean me? Having your children?”
The wicked grin. “I would sure hope they are my children.”
Meliahs help her. “You're mistaking me for Torana. There isn't a stone in the world that can teach me that tale.”
“You might be surprised.”
She didn't know that she liked the thought of little rascals poking at her stones. And after wising the birth in the twin stones, the experience was not one that woman or wiser wanted to repeat. Plus, as all Guild stonewisers, she had been fed the bitter root as soon as she came of age. She was practically barren without the cure, and clearly unsuitable for the task. She was a stonewiser, for Meliahs’ sake. All but Kael knew that. “In the Guild, if a stint at the Mating Hall results in a babe, the child is taken for Guild-raising.”
Black and green eyes regarded her evenly. “In the Domain, you can be whatever you want to be. Wiser. Mother. Lover. Sworn Mate. Just as long as you want to be it.”
He might as well have given her a list of chores. Meliahs help her. She could possibly handle two out of four, and perhaps she could try three out of four if she could figure out a way of telling him how she felt about him. As to four out of four …
Someone landed on the deck. Kael pulled the tangled blankets over Sariah. The shutters rattled and Metelaus came swiftly through the door hangings. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw them. His eyes went wide but to his credit, he kept his face blank.
“I've been looking for you, Kael. I thought maybe I'd find you here. Trouble. We have big trouble.”
TWENTY-FOUR
“WHAT'S THE TROUBLE?” Kael was on his feet jamming his legs into his breeches before Metelaus had finished.
“We have warnings of skiffs on the loop,” Metelaus said. “It appears that they are headed to the western demesne.”
“Piss of the goddess, dung of the filth, call the runners to meet me at the hall and send word to the other demesnes to be ready.” Kael finished dressing. “If we take a safe deck we can arrive there by tonight.”
“One safe deck is five too few,” Metelaus said. “And that still gives them a good few hours’ advantage.”
“We can run through the fens and take the way of the boils. We can be ready to leave before the hour.”
“I'm coming too.” Sariah donned her shift. If she ran to her deck without getting lost, she could be ready in just a few moments.
“You can't run the water,” Kael said.
She had no idea what running the water meant, but she didn't intend to stay behind. “I'll ride the deck.”
“If the trouble is bad, you'll need her,” Metelaus said.
“She's not ready yet.”
“I'm ready.”
“The entire crop is at risk,” Metelaus said.
“I know.” Kael cursed. “Metelaus is right. You may come, Sariah, but I warn you, this is no pleasant duty.”
“I'll meet you at the hall.” She rushed out, but stopped at the door briefly to warn Metelaus. “Torana won't listen to me. Mia. You must look after her. I worry about her.”
“So do I.” Metelaus's face looked two hundred chills older.
“When I come back then?”
“When you come back. Be safe, sister of Ars. May the stones guide your way. May you find your goddess again.”
By the pace of the runners, Sariah could tell the situation was dire. A good fifty of Ars's New Blood runners fanned ahead of the deck, men and women garbed in their protective weaves racing through the Barren Flats at such speed that they looked as if they ran on water. Sariah marveled at their legs’ strength. They were no ordinary folk but rather trained to race as they were doing now, conditioned for the arduous trek, a roaring herd stampeding through the grueling terrain.
Some of them ran at the back of the pack as they pulled a flat deck loaded with weapons and supplies but without a shelter. Sariah felt guilty about weighting down the deck, yet she knew she was no match for those powerful legs. She had neither the strength nor the endurance. Instead, she clung to the rushing deck and kept watch together with the few runners who came to rest for a few moments at designated intervals.
Lazar climbed aboard for a moment, panting. “What do you think of our runners?”
“Astounding.” She handed him the water skin.
He drew a long quaff from the skin. “Word is you and Kael exchanged blankets. I hope you can think well of me from here and forward.”
“Always.” And she meant it.
“Good wishes to you, new sister of Ars,” he said, before leaping back into the race.
Imagine that, she, a child of the Guild, was now part of a kin.
Zemi materialized next to her. “You may have accomplished one purpose last night, but you haven't accomplished the stones’ purpose.”
“I haven't forgotten about the stones.”
“You did forget. You were enraptured; too busy with your pleasures to care about what's important.”
Sariah stared at Zemi in disbelief. “Where were you last night? I didn't call you. I'm sure. Were you spying on me?”
“The stones are never far from the wiser's mind. I thoroughly enjoyed the sights.”
Zemi smiled and vanished before Sariah could scold her.
Kael crashed on the deck, wheezing more so than speaking. “How goes it, wiser? You look cross.”
“Do you think that an intrusion could have a purpose of its own?”
“I don't know enough about that sort of thing.” He pulled down the weave that covered his face. “Why do you ask?”
“I think Zemi was watching me, us, last night.”
He chuckled. “A lecherous intrusion?”
“I'm serious, Kael. I know I didn't call Zemi last night. I wasn't thinking about stones. How does she know?”
“I don't know. Perhaps she knows what you know, perhaps she can wise you like you can wise me.”
Give the man credit for bringing up the touchy subject. “She's an intrusion. She can't wise. And I can't be wised either. I don't even know how that happened. Wisers wise stones.”
“Maybe I'm made of stone?” He grinned.
“You're made of very good flesh, thank Meliahs.”
“Perhaps a lecherous intrusion is the reflection of your lustful mind?”
She tossed him the water skin. “Drink, old man. Seems like I shrunk your wits and used up all of your strength last night.”
“You dare accuse me of feebleness?” He took a long swallow. “Look who is riding the deck.”
“I'll learn this running. So I can catch you again.”
Kael's laugher echoed in the wind as he returned to the race. It was a tribute to his self-discipline that, despite his foot, he could sprint as fast and far as the other runners. Meliahs help her. To think Kael, the man she had claimed through the blankets, was the very man who withheld the stones and prevented her from completing her search. Perhaps Zemi was right after all. Perhaps she was humoring him over the stones. No. Only time and patience—her patience, since he had none—would compel Kael to surrender her stones. Her attempts to find Kael's cache had failed so far, and although she didn't intend to stop looking, she had to redefine her approach. She had to work to gain his trust. She had to show him she could wise without getting hurt and in the New Blood's best interest, an important reason why she had insisted on coming along.
Besides, finding Kael's cache was just one aspect of her plan. She'd been considering another viable, interesting notion. If Aya had found twin stones in the Domain, where had they come from? Contacting other New Blood wisers was her next logical step. She'd have to be careful and subtle. She might even have to work around Kael, but if there were twin stones in the Domain, she would find them, provided of course that she survived the trouble ahead.
The place that the New Blood called the fens wasn't very different from the rest of the Barren Flats, except for the terrain's increased treachery. Polygons of mud bars surfaced randomly and the New Blood had to weave through them to avoid getting bogged down. Once, she spotted a disturbance in the water ahead. She sounded the horn twice as she had been told. The runners turned and within moments fifty men and women stood side-by-side crammed on the deck. A current rippled through the calm waters, coming toward them.
Eels. The water flapped and rippled around the deck. Dark sinuous shapes bumped against the corner where Sariah stood. Some of them were as long as she was tall. The occasional black eye surveyed the deck with a malicious glare. Water churned over slimy brown hides as the beasts moved on and disappeared into the Barren Flats’ expanse.
The runners wasted no time to return to the water. They dashed toward the jagged skeleton of a low-lying ridge. Sariah quit the deck and climbed the ridge on foot with the runners. They portaged the deck over the ridge and descended into a vaporous, shallower expanse. Overlapping disks of rusted yellow travertine streaked with orange and red sediments snaked beneath the dead water, bubbling and crumbling under Sariah's feet. A foul smell aroused from the place, a spicy stench to the toxic air.
“Mind your face.” Kael hooked the end of the woven scarf she wore around her neck over her mouth and nose. “Beware of boils and jagged rock.”
The weave helped protect her nose but her eyes watered with the vapor's sting and the water scorched her feet. The New Blood didn't linger. They trotted through, lifting their knees to cool their feet for an instant before plunging their legs back in the scalding broth. Sariah was happy to see the Barren Flats at the other side of the boils. Compared to the boils, the Barren Flats’ brackish waters were cold and pure. It took a while before Sariah's weave cooled over her boots.
The scent of smoke in the air clouded the runners’ gazes. They slowed their communal pace. One by one, they came to the deck to fetch their weapons. Their weapons belts fit neatly under their weaves. Swords, buckles, knives and slings thickened their waists. They strapped vicious-looking serrated tusks to the backs of their elbows and heels and donned padded weaved vests that protected them from shoulder to waist. Sariah had never seen the New Blood dressed for war. It was a terrifying sight.
Their race was now silent. The sun was setting when they arrived at the place the New Blood called the western demesne. A plume of black smoke obscured the red disk's rapid plunge, a most inauspicious omen.
TWENTY-FIVE
DARKNESS FAVORED THE New Blood with its stealth.
“Flat.” Kael's hushed word echoed among the runners.
The New Blood bent closely over the water and approached the demesne. Sariah too flattened against the deck. A low-lying ridge materialized before her in the darkness, a burning torch illuminating the Barren Flats. In the water, the New Blood stirred, angry like eels. The breeze blew hot with communal wrath. None, she knew, would burn as hot as Kael. The New Blood anchored the deck and broke up into smaller groups.
“With me,” Kael said.
Sariah slipped from the deck into the lukewarm water, parting a glut of gutweed with her body. She crawled through the dead water on her protected hands and feet, keeping her face above the water line and wrapped against the vapors. In the tenuous light of the burning fire, they were a reptilian herd scouring the territory for murder. Soon, they came to a place where stone walls contained concentric circles of water for as far as the firelight allowed Sariah to see.
Kael stood up and surveyed the area. “Piss of the goddess, dung of the filth, the Shield broke the cisterns.” He picked a man. “Tell the runners that the rotfish are out. Remind them that we'll need to catch them again to purify the dead water, so tell the runners to kill them only if they attack.”
“What's a rotfish?” Sariah wasn't sure she wanted to know. A snort and a spray broke the water's surface ahead.
“That's a rotfish,” Kael whispered. “Stay close together.”
A crown of spiny rays sliced the water. A long dorsal fin circled around them. What little Sariah could see of the beast was enough to make her shiver. Puckered scales oozed with filaments of greenish slime. Gills as wide as its fin flashed when it stuck out its enormous head.
“Are they … dangerous?”
“You know those tusks we use for weapons?” Kael said. “They come from that.”
The thing snorted again and the air stunk with the smell. It circled their group several times. The runners kept on advancing together at a steady pace. Rotfish. Meliahs help her.
Sariah's muscles were beginning to strain by the time they reached another stone wall rising from the water. The New Blood climbed it easily. She was glad to be out of the dead water, away from the rotfish. She had to repress a gasp when she felt the sting of a wised stone under her palm. “It's wised!”
“I know.” Kael motioned her to move ahead into a ragged growth of twisted trees with thick roots. Sariah negotiated the convoluted roots and warped branches, strung with some variety of creeping prickly gorse, nature's formidable barrier. A branch snatched the scarf from her head. She could sense the tension of the New Blood's calculated movements in the night's silence, in Kael's careful advance. He was deliberate when she knew what he wanted to do was to squelch the flames now.
At the edge of the unlikely forest, an improbable sight awaited. She saw land sprouting out of the Barren Flats—not fens and not boils, not sterile rock like the Crags, but solid land contained by the low stone wall and protected by the gnarled little trees, spanning quite a few leagues in every direction.
“Stay here.” Kael kissed his palm and pressed it to the ground before disappearing into the night.
Sariah rubbed her eyes, wondering if she was seeing visions. The Barren Flats contained no viable land. Everybody knew that. No good soil had escaped the rot's destruction and no remaining rock or fen was able to birth solid land. Yet the meticulously cultivated land before her told an unlikely tale—that the New Blood had learned to build land for themselves, and most astonishing, that the New Blood had found a way to heal the land from the rot.
Sariah scooped a handful of soil and brought it to her nose. The familiar reek of goat dung and manure assailed her, combined with the metallic scent of earth and minerals and spiced with the aroma of herbs and green plants. The putrid stink of the rot wasn't present. Of that, she was sure.
Land-healer, the title acquired meaning at last. This was Kael's best work, fruit of his roamer's toils and his dreams for a better life for his people. She finally understood his confounding interest in soil, seeds and crops, his reverence for the natural world. This demesne and others like it comprised Kael's true purpose. A cold dread lodged in her gut. She didn't need to wise his emotions to know that he would defend the demesne with his life.
The New Blood came forward as one when the muted call clicked in the night. Sariah had never met creatures as lethally quiet as the runners. They kissed their palms and pressed them to the ground before leaving the trees’ protection. Sariah followed them, moving through lush vegetation that grew not only around her, but above her. In the darkness, she recognized the bulging shapes of a variety of fruits and vegetables growing in vertically stacked pots, cascading from spiraling frames. She was suspicious when a runner fell in behind her. It would be like Kael to waste his runner on her.
The clash of weapons joined the fire's roar at the far side of the demesne. Sariah ran toward the battle but when she was in sight of it, the runner tackled her to the ground.
“We come only when called.” The woman kept her down.
“Let me go.”
“I don't like it any better than you. I'd much rather be fighting beside him.”
Sariah recognized the voice. Lovely gray and hazel eyes. Hair black as the night, arms strong as fetters, body hard as stone. Dazzling courage and a face to halt the buzz on market day. And he had chosen Sariah over her?
“I know who you are. I can't imagine you'd weep if I died.”
“Believe me, I won't. But he trusts me.”
Meliahs help her. She'd never wanted to meet the woman sleeping on Kael's deck. “What's your name?”
“Shala.”
“Shala, if we can't join him, then we should at least join them.” Sariah gestured to the New Blood fighting the fire. The woman agreed. Together, they made it to the fields where they began to beat the flames with smothering weaves. Sariah could see three or four empty skiffs bobbing near this side of the demesne, with shallow hulls rising sharply from the water and gunwales painted in the Shield's gray tones. Working from opposite sides, Sariah and Shala were trying to smother a particularly stubborn fire when a man from the Shield burst from the bushes.
