Shadow's master s-3 Page 19

  “A sad but common sight in the wastes,” Shikari said. “The tribes believe that the corpses of their enemies are pleasing to their gods, and so they display them at shrines like this. These poor souls were likely captured alive, tortured over the course of several days, and then finally beheaded in the culmination of a ritual that includes the consuming of flesh and-”

  “Why don't you shut the fuck up!” Dray shouted at her.

  Hoek swiveled like a weathervane and stalked in Dray's direction. There was no malice on the big man's face, but his huge hands were closed into fists. Caim reached for his seax knife, but Shikari shouted before he could draw it. “Halt!”

  Hoek stopped, but continued to stare at Dray with a blank gaze. Dray lifted his spear, but Caim spurred his horse between them. “Dray, go take the lead.”

  With a dark look at Hoek, Dray put heels to horseflesh and galloped ahead. Hoek returned to Shikari's side, standing with his arms at his sides like nothing had happened. She, however, glared at Dray's departing back.

  Caim turned his mount around. “Let's go.”

  Animals snorted and leather creaked, but the others remained quiet as they filed behind him. Malig complained about wanting a stout drink, a hot meal, and a friendly woman, preferably in that order. Caim empathized, but he didn't think they'd be getting any of those things any time soon.

  The land rose before them, in broken ridges and craggy ravines, steadily toward the line of hills hunched against the horizon. As the miles passed, Caim let his chin fall to this chest. He was resting his eyes when a familiar voice tickled his ear.

  “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

  Caim opened one eye to glance at Kit. She floated beside him, smiling like nothing had happened. For a moment, he considered whether or not that was a good thing. He looked around, but Malig and Dray were riding together a hundred paces ahead, and Shikari and her bodyguard trailed even farther behind. They were as alone as they were likely going to be. “You have a nice holiday?”

  “Actually, I've been taking some time for myself. And I've decided to forgive you.”

  He started to argue that she'd left him. He was the one who had been wronged. Then he remembered his words to her on the hill and closed his mouth. “I'm sorry,” he mumbled.

  She drifted closer and planted an electric kiss on his nose. “I know. You haven't been able to sleep since I left.”

  His ire returned. “How long have you been watching us?”

  “Not long.” She alighted on his lap. “I know how you can make it up to me.”

  He wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he asked, “Yeah? How's that?”

  “Turn around.”

  He squinted at her. “Why? What's happened?”

  “Nothing yet.” She leaned closer until they were eye to eye. “But you're about to-”

  “Caim!”

  He looked past Kit. Dray stood up in his stirrups, peering ahead.

  “Don't,” Kit said.

  But Caim kicked his heels and rode through her. After a few strides he felt bad and looked back, but all he saw were Hoek and Shikari hiking through the gloom. Kit was gone. Again. Caim gritted his teeth and tried to put her out of his mind.

  As he pulled up to the Eregoths, Caim spotted a blanket of tiny lights in the distance, directly in their path. It looked to be a village, or a small town. Caim considered the landscape, and how long it would take them to go around. But we're down to the last of our rations, and we've got no idea where we are.

  “Well? Malig asked.

  “We'll check it out,” Caim replied.

  “Is that wise?” Shikari asked as she and her companion caught up to them. “Perhaps stealth would be the better choice of action.”

  “I'm sick of sneaking about.” Dray peeled something off the point of his spear and flung it to the ground. “I want to see what's ahead.”

  “Fucking right,” Malig echoed.

  Caim kneed his horse to a canter in the direction of the lights. He was ready, too. Their increased pace, with the wind in his face, quickened his blood and dragged him out of the lethargy. He half expected a legion of Northmen to descend upon them at any moment, but the snowy countryside was quiet. After a couple miles, the outlines of rooftops appeared in the gloom. Rectangular and blocky, they looked like tenements or the government buildings in Othir's forum, but without any of the finer architectural details. The roofs were broad-beamed like longhouses with shallow peaks.

  Caim reined up beside a post driven into the earth, capped by a massive bleached skull. By its shape, he guessed it had come from a bear, but the size of it was incredible. In life, the beast must have stood more than twelve feet tall. A true monster.

  “Bear tribe,” Dray said.

  “Seems so.” Caim curled his fingers into fists inside his gloves. “We'll get what we need and be gone.”

  For once, the Eregoths didn't argue. Shikari listened without comment, her gaze on the hills to the north. That's where he needed to go, but he was worn out from the road. They all were.

  Rusty shackles hung from a wooden archway that appeared to mark the town's entry. The chains rattled in the wind as Caim and his crew passed under. The settlement had no burg or outlying structures, not even a palisade. The streets were a morass of mud and slush flanked by tall buildings. They were all built of the same grainy, blue-black stone. The construction was crude, with rough edges and ill-fitting joints. Wooden cages lined some of the streets, with lean faces pressed between the slats. Some were almost empty, others packed so tight their occupants couldn't sit down. Burning torches on tall iron poles shone upon bodies encrusted with grime. Northmen prowled the cages with truncheons in hand.

  “Maybe this was a bad idea,” Malig said.

  Caim looked for public buildings, but the places they passed had no signs or placards. Besides the slaves and their keepers, there were few people in the street. No merchants or peddlers, no whores lingering in the alleys, no children playing. Caim wondered how Shikari and Hoek would hold up back in the company of their enslavers, but Hoek's expression could have been carved from marble for all the emotion it showed, and Shikari looked merely curious. He supposed there was little chance they would be seen by anyone who knew them.

  Then he spotted a group of five men in rust-red robes striding down the street toward them. People gave them a wide berth, slaves and warriors alike. The leader of the group walked with a tall black staff topped with a stuffed white bear's head.

  “This way,” Shikari said, going to the mouth of a wide alley.

  Caim took another look at the advancing priests, and then waved for his crew to follow the woman. With Hoek by her side, Shikari led them to an intersection, glanced left and right, and then crossed over to another alley. Caim wondered if he should stop her, but the second side street opened into a rough oval. Crooked buildings lined the large, open space. Raucous laughter and shouting emerged from some of the doorways, along with the smells of cooking.

  “We should get indoors,” Shikari said, her eyes on Caim. “These are entertainment houses.”

  He picked one establishment at random, and they followed a narrow lane behind the building to a courtyard. There were no stables, but twenty-odd horses were tied to posts driven into the ground. A lamp burned over a back door.

  Caim let out a long breath as he dismounted. The muscles in his lower back were bunched up tight. As he stretched, Dray came over. Aemon's spear was in his hand. He carries the damned thing around like a holy relic. Caim took stock of the Eregoth, but apart from deep rings around his eyes and the tightness of his mouth, Dray didn't look much worse for wear.

  “What are your plans?” Dray asked.

  I wish I knew. “Right now, I just want something warm in my stomach. Then we can talk about plans.”

  Malig pushed past them on his way to the rear of the building, where a wide door stood open. Caim checked out the outer wall as he went inside. He'd first taken the material for soapstone because of its grainy black compositi
on, but it felt denser than that. Granite maybe, but granite was difficult to quarry. If every building was made from the same stuff, the amount of labor that must have been required was staggering.

  They entered through a mudroom with cloaks hanging from pegs. Inside the establishment, a dozen smoky lamps illuminated a huge room filled with drinking, gorging, shouting Northmen. Most of the shouting was directed at an earthen pit in the center of the floor where two men circled each other. The shouts lifted higher each time steel clashed. Caim maneuvered through the crowd, drawing looks from the other patrons, to a small table set against a side wall. While the others tried to find a wench or serving man, Caim observed the crowd. There were a few outlanders sprinkled among the Northmen. Iron shackles hung from many belts in the establishment, along with an overabundance of weapons.

  Though he couldn't see through the press, Caim guessed by the sudden rise in noise that the combat in the pit had ended. Cups were hoisted and knocked back as the Northmen drummed on their tables for more. Serving girls, some just children, in high-necked smocks and aprons filtered through the crowd carrying fistfuls of foaming tankards.

  Caim didn't look at Shikari as she sat down next to him. He hadn't forgotten their strange conversation over breakfast, nor the fervent look in her eyes. The woman saw too damned much.

  Malig and Dray reappeared with large mugs, but only for themselves.

  “Thank the gods they have beer here!” Malig said as he took a long swallow. When Caim raised an eyebrow, he shrugged. “The wench said she'd send over some more.”

  “And food, I hope,” Caim said.

  Malig set down his cup, foam dripping from his beard. “So what are we going to do here, Caim? I mean, we don't exactly fit in.”

  “On the contrary, I think we look the part down to our toenails.”

  “What part?”

  Caim ran a hand over his whiskered chin. He hadn't shaved in over a sennight. His clothes were worn and travel-stained. “Slave-catchers, down on our luck.”

  Dray raised one black eyebrow. “I hope you're joking. We don't know the first thing about-”

  “Slavka!”

  Two northern women in brown leathers pushed through the crowd, each hoisting a foaming stein. Caim started to take them for barmaids until he saw the longaxe hanging from one's belt, and the other woman wore a pair of shortswords and at least five knives that he could see. Both had long hair that hung down in braids past their shoulders, one blonde and the other brunette. They might have been halfway fetching if not for the mannish garb, and the rune letters the brunette had tattooed around her left eye in blue ink.

  The blonde axe-woman looked around the table and said something. Caim was about to shake his head to show he didn't understand when Shikari rattled off a phrase in northern.

  The brunette made a deep noise that might have been a laugh. “Eregoth? You far way from home.”

  “We are,” Caim answered. “Can we help you?”

  “Mayhap,” the blonde answered, and winked at the other woman. “You just arrive in Braelsalr?”

  “Maybe. What of it?”

  The blonde woman elbowed her comrade. “Have you any to sell? We pay good.” She reached into her jerkin and shook something that made a metallic jingle.

  “No,” Caim replied. “They all died on the journey. We're just staying a few days to restock before we go out again.”

  The Northwoman clucked her tongue. “Poor luck. The next time you come in, you ask for Yersa and Grunhild. We pay you top coin, ya?”

  Malig slammed his cup down on the table. “What if we want more than your coin? What if we want a gander at what's inside those tight pants?”

  Not now. Caim had been afraid one of them might do something foolhardy. The blonde Northwoman laughed and said something to her friend, but the brunette didn't so much as smile. “Mayhap we cut off your little spear and make you eat.”

  Her fingers tapped the pommel of one of her swords as she and her friend sauntered away. Caim leaned across the table, fighting the impulse to grab Malig by his face. “What the fuck is your problem? This isn't the time.”

  Malig belched and turned over his empty cup. “I'm fine.”

  “He's fine,” Dray echoed.

  Caim rapped the tabletop with his forefinger. “I have to go out for a look around, and I need to know that you can handle-”

  “I said I'm fine. Go do what you have to do.”

  The owner of the establishment finally arrived with two young girls who delivered beer and meat stew-Caim didn't inquire about its provenance-served in bread trenchers. Caim remembered then that he'd given the last of his money to Egil, but Dray had some coin. The owner jabbered at them cheerfully in his language, and Shikari replied. They carried on a short conversation, at the end of which the owner nodded several times and left.

  “What was that about?” Caim asked as they ate. The stew was piping hot and so good he wanted to cry.

  “I took it upon myself to procure a place to stay.” Shikari pushed her plate away, and Malig snatched it for himself. “He only had one room open, but promised it was large enough for all of us.”

  After they had finished, and Malig polished off a third cup of beer, they followed a serving girl with a lantern out the back door and across the courtyard to a smaller building. The inside was divided into a central common area and two private rooms. She led them to their door and handed over the lantern. When Malig asked her fee for staying the night, the girl left without giving any indication she'd understood his question.

  Caim dropped his pack in a corner. The owner hadn't been lying. The room was large enough to sleep a dozen. Rope hammocks hung from wooden pegs on the walls. They looked inviting, but he was too anxious to sleep. While Dray kicked off his boots, Malig tried to maneuver himself into a hammock. Shikari picked a spot on the floor between two hanging beds and sat cross-legged, eyes closed, hands resting on her thighs. Hoek rested his bulk on an adjacent sling.

  Malig produced a bottle from somewhere, and the astringent smell of spirits filled the room. “You got a plan yet?”

  Caim pulled up his hood. “I'll be back soon. Don't go wandering off.”

  “Why? You going to skip town without us?”

  Caim left without answering. The courtyard was empty. Checking to make sure his knives were loose in their sheaths, he started off down the side street. He avoided the lights shining from windows. With this many Northmen packed together-the town was large enough to hold a thousand or more with ease-he might have expected fighting and carousing to be commonplace. He passed a few drunks wandering the streets, but no soldiers or constables. The town had an air of lawlessness, and yet despite that it was as quiet as the grave. He found himself treading lighter, as if afraid to disturb the stillness, as he worked his way around to the north end.

  The tugging in his head was stronger again. He wanted to bash his forehead against the side of a building. Kit, this would be the perfect time to come back. But she didn't appear, and that compounded his irritation.

  Beyond the buildings, Caim reentered the snowy tundra of the wastes. Distant lights twinkled to the northeast. Another town, perhaps, but smaller. He looked to the west and thought he could make out another settlement in that direction, but the tugging pulled him due north toward the hills outside of town. He followed.

  Caim was so intent on his destination he almost stumbled into the path of a tragic procession. The crack of a whip made him stop as a double line of slaves approached. Backs bent, legs straining, they pulled a massive block of glossy black stone behind them. Caim hunkered down to watch. The slaves were a scrawny, unhealthy-looking bunch. Mostly men, but a few women as well, clad in dirty rags. While one team pulled, a second group of slaves kept the block moving on a series of log rollers, taking them from behind once the stone passed over and rushing them to the front to go under the block again. Northmen in long cloaks and tall helms coerced them with kicks and buffets.

  Caim slipped away. The terrain
became rougher underfoot as the foothills rose to chalky, gray cliffs littered with snow and scree. When the slope became too steep, he picked his way around until he found a chimney in the cliffs. There were enough cracks in the bedrock he could almost climb it like a ladder. A grand sight was revealed to him at the summit.

  Massive black walls rose from the plateau atop the cliffs. Round towers more than a hundred feet tall studded the ramparts. From where he had climbed up, Caim saw the mammoth gatehouse, by itself as large as the palace in Othir. Beyond the walls rose the tops of cyclopean towers. Not round, but not completely square either, they were constructed with sharp vertices and bowed lines unlike anything in the south. Caim thought back to the slaves he had seen below and the huge block they'd been dragging. He imagined other camps strung around the citadel, all providing slaves and material.

  This had to be Erebus. He'd found it at long last. Some part of him had despaired of ever finding it, fearing it was a lie, one last torment inflicted by his aunt before her demise. But it was real.

  A monstrous pyramid dominated the skyline, and a hollow feeling gnawed at Caim's insides as he recalled the vision he'd seen in Sybelle's sanctum.

  He hovered before an enormous construction perched on the desolate plain. Its angular black walls were riddled with silver veins and pockets of polished crystal. Gargantuan towers rose like titanic fingers, topped with dagger-sharp spires.

  Was his mother inside, a captive for all these years? Or was she long dead? He gazed up to the pointed apex.

  Now what?

  That was the question. He didn't have a clue what to do next. Caim started walking parallel to the walls as he considered how to gain entry. The ramparts looked thick enough to shrug off any siege weapon he'd ever seen, but there were flaws in any design.