Chasers of the Wind

14

Tal’ki had not lied. The weave really was quite simple. The Damned had enough strength to pour herself into the hanged guardsman on the first try. As soon as she did this, her dormant spark, sensing the support of an uninhabited body, flared up and shone brightly, and Tia gasped in delight. She screamed so triumphantly that Captain Nai, who was green with terror, recoiled from the revived corpse, tripped over a swine trough lying on the ground, and fell into the manure.

However, Typhoid’s rapture was premature. After a few tests, the Damned found that the capabilities of her temporary body were no match for those she had previously. Too much had been lost with the death of her true vessel. The feeling of ease vanished. Her delight plunged into a roaring, defiant deluge of destructive power. In a single moment, Tia had become the weakest of the Sextet. Even the despicable Mitifa could overpower her without any trouble.

The insult made her gnash her teeth.

Not even the knowledge that any of the Walkers would rend the clothes from their bodies just to enjoy the Damned’s current abilities comforted her. Power like this would be a gift from the gods to the upstarts of the Rainbow Valley. But Typhoid felt cheated. All she could do was hope that in time it would all return.

Her primary objective was to catch that boy Healer. Tia had no doubt that she would catch the fugitives. In killing her body, the archer had placed a “mark” on himself without even knowing it. Right now it was pointing to the west and with each day she journeyed it burned all the brighter.

After Typhoid tightened her control, her issues with Pork lessened. She had never inflicted pain on others just for her own pleasure. Rovan loved to torture, and the Damned hated him for this. But in this situation, the murderer of Sorita found that this tool was not without its uses because as soon as her spirit flowed into the body of Gry, the half-wit discovered his will again. She had to resort to causing him pain.

That same day she took a horse and, together with the half-wit, rushed off in pursuit. Of course, she could have brought a pair of clods with her so that she could use their bodies when her current one became worthless, but the Damned would prefer a woman’s form. She was already starting to feel nauseous from all these men.

As Typhoid had assumed, the idiot kept his saddle worse than a straw scarecrow. She always had to keep an eye on her ward. Despite the fact that she now had her own vessel, she needed rest and sleep. The first night, as soon as Typhoid fell asleep and relaxed her grip, the cowherd decided to run away. At the very moment when he got twenty yards away from her, Tia felt the full meaning of Tal’ki’s words about being pulled out “like a dog on a leash.” However, Leprosy could have just as easily compared it to the sensations of a salmon that has been hooked and pulled from the water. The bonds that connected her to the half-wit strained and Typhoid flew out of Gry’s body like a cork from a bottle of sparkling Morassian wine.

It was not the most pleasant way to wake up. She was so angry that she almost crippled the imbecile. Pork didn’t try to escape anymore. The half-wit’s spirit gave up the fight over his body, stopped popping out like a Mort from a dark doorway, sat quietly, and became one less headache.

After three days Gry’s body became unfit for her, and Tia once again had to hang over the shoulder of the moron. It truly irritated her. Suppressing his will, she took control over the other’s body.

Sensing that she would catch up to the people who had caused her so much trouble, she drove both horses, hardly slept, and stopped only to let the animals graze and to feed the cowherd. The last thing she needed was for the fool to die.

On the fourth day, Tia broke free from the Forest Region.

She had the grim thought that in the populated areas she would get the chance to find a new body and once again touch her Gift. There had to be dead people in this backwater!

There turned out to be far more dead people in the area than she had expected. The land was simply swarming with them. When four animated corpses jumped out onto the road in front of her, Tia acted without hesitation, regardless of her surprise. Because she was inside Pork she couldn’t direct the kukses, let alone get rid of them. She needed a couple of seconds to create the weave that would put her in the body of a woman whose throat was torn. The Damned made contact with her Gift and, with a sharp slap of her hands, broke the ties of the summoning that was forcing the dead to live. The eyes of the three who were approaching the terrified horses extinguished, and the creatures fell like logs to the ground.

“Khsssand khup.” Because of its torn larynx, this body had difficulty emitting the necessary sounds and was wheezing like a snake dying of apoplexy.

Pork had fallen from the saddle and was now crawling around in the dust, wringing his hands imploringly and sobbing. The sight of the half-eaten, living corpses had sent him into paroxysms of fear. He even wet his pants. Typhoid shuddered in disgust. Would her torment never end? Being with such a pathetic nitwit was trying her patience.

“Mistress,” he babbled, wiping away snot. “Mistress, they… they…”

“Khsssand khup now.”

It worked.

“Ffffollowkh khe khorsssesss khand kheep khlossse.”

He obeyed. Typhoid was finally able to address more pressing problems. She wondered where all the kukses had come from. As far as she knew, none of the Elect were supposed to be in this area. The battles were being waged far to the north and the sorcerers had been strictly forbidden from coming near Al’sgara until Tal’ki gave the order. Had someone disobeyed the prohibition? Or was it…?

She cursed herself for her own stupidity and quickly checked the amount of power gathered over the town.

“Khe Kkabysssss takhe me!” she gasped sharply, astonished.

The power around her was so great that it made her roar in ecstasy. She could swim in it, scoop up handfuls of it, waste it without a twinge of conscience. Without begrudging the expense. The most amazing thing was that there was no doubt who this outburst of power belonged to. Even a clumsy fool from the First Sphere could identify his own spark. All the power hovering around had once belonged to her.

It reminded her of fish flakes spilled from an enormous container. And now Tia swallowed the power like a hungry fish; she inhaled it, and with each passing second she became stronger and stronger.

She felt like exulting and singing.

This was why even in the bodies of the dead she felt so worthless. How could she forget about this? Indeed, in the ancient books such phenomena were mentioned! And this is exactly what happened after the deaths of Ginora and Retar—an enormous release of uncontrolled power into the world and unrestrained kukses arising from their graves in the hundreds.

Only now did Typhoid understand why Tal’ki had taken the time to visit such places then. The cunning creature had told them that she was going to get the kukses under control, but really the old snake had been gathering the others’ power! That was the key to the growth of her power! She had fed off what remained of the two who had departed for the Abyss.

The sly, dangerous witch! She had fooled them all. She had stolen so much power, and they, idiots that they were, only rejoiced that Leprosy had taken on the onerous task of pacifying the kukses.

The old crone!

Not to worry! Tal’ki wasn’t here, and Tia’s spirit could absorb at least part of what it had lost through the death of her body. It rightfully belonged to her and would make her spark burn more fiercely.

The Damned rejoiced.

She was wandering through the deserted city streets, illuminated by the bright sunshine, collecting the scattered bits of her Gift. They did not just hover in the air, but also rested in the throngs of zombies. She had no problem drawing them out. The kukses sensed Pork and the horses and ran toward them in an attempt to assuage their hunger, but in obedience to Tia’s commands, they died a second time, releasing her priceless strength.

There were far more of the dead than she had expected. Those who had surged up from the local cemetery had added those who had been alive the previous evening to their number. Typhoid only stopped and took a rest late at night, when she was as full to bursting with power as a wineskin.

She had done it. She had reaped a rich harvest. Her spark was rekindled almost to its previous level and she had freed the unfortunate town from the living dead. However, the latter was not part of her plan. That’s just what happened, and she was far from considering it a good thing. As the Damned had assumed, nothing living remained in Bald Hollow. So there was no one to thank her. However, she needed this gratitude much less than Pork needed new pants.

Typhoid snorted irritably, and the cowherd standing in front of her cringed, fearing the wrath of Mistress.

What a great comparison! It wouldn’t be a bad idea to get new pants for the fool. The ones he had on were rather off-putting.

“Ffffollowkh me,” she croaked, and the cowherd, still shaking from the terrifying day he’d lived through, dragged himself after her.

During her wanderings around the town, Tia had seen a shop that sold ready-made clothes. She thought it was high time to dress the blessed fool in clean clothes.

The Damned entered the shop and looked around. It did not take her long to find the right clothes for Pork. Clean underwear, new pants, a shirt, and a good jacket transformed the fool. Typhoid studied him with a critical eye and, finding herself satisfied with the result, took control of his body, simultaneously leaving the corpse of the woman with the slashed throat. Now it was not quite so disgusting to stand behind the left shoulder of her servant.

As she expected, the spark faded after the transition, but the gathered strength remained. Typhoid may have lost an entire day, but her Gift was far more important than her enemies. With it, she had a chance to regain her former might. And the insects wouldn’t escape her. Typhoid could sense them even now and she would have no problem catching them, even though they had decided to confuse their tracks and flee across the fields instead of along the decent road.

Tia-Pork leapt into the saddle and continued the chase.

“We’ll get to the road in about an hour.”

I nodded and buttoned my jacket. The early morning was overcast; the air was cold, not yet heated by the rising sun, but the earth was warm. Fog hung over the fields and covered the short grass. It had already filled the ravines and gullies to the brim, and was now flowing around them, threatening to rise up off the ground to its full height and plunge the world into a milky shroud.

The horses were walking very slowly. I looked around, standing up in my stirrups, but it wasn’t possible to make out anything farther than ten yards away. After another twenty minutes I could barely see five paces in front of me. We were riding in a thick, syrupy, milky, cold fog.

“We’re going to be wandering about here for more than an hour. More like three.” My voice seemed unpleasantly muffled.

“Don’t be afraid.” The courier stroked his mustache. “We’re in no rush.”

I frowned, but said nothing. He might not be in a rush, but some of us were in a hurry to get to Al’sgara. After four days of traveling, I was entirely burned out. My attempts to call Layen had come to nothing. She still hadn’t regained her power after the fight in Dog Green. I didn’t know where my sun was, who was with her, or whether she’d made it to Al’sgara. What if something had happened along the road? The uncertainty was driving me mad. If I could have, I would have ridden day and night, but I wouldn’t get very far without a change of horses, so I had to conserve Stallion’s strength. Without him, I’d be traveling even longer. By my count, the city was three, maybe four days’ ride away. We just needed to get out of these damned fields onto a regular road. Then it would get easier.

The only thing that warmed my heart was the thought that Layen had managed to escape Bald Hollow.

“Are you thinking about your wife?”

I scowled at Gis.

“Don’t get mad.” He smiled disarmingly, as if he hadn’t noticed my disgruntled look. “I’d also be thinking about her. You’re a lucky man, my friend.”

“I know.”

“Everything will be all right.”

“All I can do is hope you’re right.”

“I never dared to tie the knot with any woman,” he said, apropos of nothing.

“Why?”

Gis thought for a bit and then shrugged.

“Probably because I just didn’t have the time. The life of a courier, if you know what I mean. One day here, the next day there. What kind of woman would agree to that?”

“You didn’t look all that hard. Believe me, there are such women…. We need to stop and wait.” I could not help it. “I can’t see anything.”

“Nonsense,” replied the courier. “We won’t lose our way, I’m telling you. Hey, I meant to ask you about what Luk said about Layen….”

“No. She’s not a Walker or an Ember,” I replied in a steady voice.

“Then why’d he call her that?”

“I don’t know. Ask him.”

For some time we rode in silence, trying to catch a glimpse of the road through the fog. It was no use.

“Do you hear that?” Gis asked suddenly. “There! Again! It sounds like a bell ringing. Do you hear it?”

From afar, muffled by the distance, came a barely audible “ommm.”

“You’re right. Is there a village nearby?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know.” He looked worried. “It seems we headed too far to the west. If it’s Psar’ki… It’s too early, don’t you think?”

“Too early for what?”

“For services to Melot. Why is the bell tolling?”

“Ommm” was the response.

“Or for whom,” I said, grinning crookedly. “I don’t have a lot of arrows left.”

Gis glanced at my full quiver. “You think it’s the dead again?”

“And you don’t? If they were in Bald Hollow, why wouldn’t they be here, too? It’s a really bad idea to get into that mess again.”

“We have very little food left. And I’m a courier. I’m required to find out what’s happening there so I can report it.”

“Who requires it?”

He remained unfazed. “First of all myself.”

“As you will. It’s your own head on your shoulders. If you can’t stand not knowing, stick your nose in there. I won’t object. But I’m not going. And definitely not in such a fog.”

It would be great fun when a dozen of the undead popped up out of nowhere. Why should I risk my own neck for nothing?

“Are you really that frightened of the ringing of bells?” He was astonished.

“Just imagine. I’ve been a coward since I was young,” I replied coldly.

“Don’t talk nonsense. I saw how you carried yourself in the city. Most so-called brave men couldn’t handle something like that. I don’t understand your fears. There are many reasons why they might have decided to sound the alarm.”

“And I don’t understand your lack of understanding. You yourself said it might be dangerous there. I have no need of it. Plus, the bell is ringing strangely, don’t you think? Sometimes more than a minute passes between the strikes. And sometimes it rings one after another, with no time for the peals to stop. I wouldn’t go there for all the sorens in the Empire. And I’d advise you against it.”

“So our paths diverge.”

My companion said this without malice, accepting my refusal as a matter of course.

“Hold to the west. After a quarter of a league turn north and you’ll get to the road beyond the village. After about three hours you’ll get to the Al’sgara road. I hope you find Layen, my friend.”

“Good luck. If you change your mind, chase after me. I’ll ride slowly.”

The courier waved his hand, and after several seconds the fog swallowed both him and his horse. I listened to the random ringing of the bell a few more times; then I commanded Stallion, “Onward.”

For some reason I recalled Shen at this moment. Did he survive? Why did he fall behind? Did he manage to escape Bald Hollow? He was an impudent pup, but I didn’t want him to be dead.

Ommm.

Even if everything was all right in the village and they were just getting drunk over someone’s wedding or funeral, I saw no reason to tarry. Gis was an utter fool. What came over him?

The sound of the bell and the density of the fog twisted into a nightmarish specter, and I was glad that I don’t have a healthy imagination. That would be really bad. I’d be expecting something to jump out at me every second.

I’d been riding for quite a while, but I knew that I hadn’t traveled very far. Every now and then we came across wide ditches and irrigation canals, and then the peasants’ fields began. I had to circle around, holding to the right, and twice double back in order to avoid a shallow but long ravine. While I was bobbing and weaving, a light wind sprang up from the south, and the fog began to thin out. It no longer hung in a dense veil; gaps began appearing and the visibility improved. Now I could easily make out what was located fifteen yards away from me.

BOMMM!

The sound was so distinct that I flinched. I looked to the right. A dark spot stood out through the snow-white haze. Without realizing it, I had come far closer to the village than I wanted. I could see the houses on the outskirts.

BOMMM!

Damn that bell-ringer! Why didn’t his kin drag him out of the bell tower? Did they really enjoy it? Cursing under my breath, I directed Stallion back into the field, away from the village. Every now and then I looked over my shoulder; then I couldn’t take it anymore so I paused and strung my bow. Regardless of how large and unwieldy my weapon was for shooting from the saddle, I’d have to manage.

After a few minutes Stallion stopped abruptly and snorted irritably. Our path was blocked by a high fence. Right beyond it I could see some buildings.

BOMMM!

What bad luck! I still contrived to lose my way and once again enter the village. Turns out I was going in circles.

BOMMM!

It seemed I couldn’t avoid Psar’ki.

“Shall we go through the village, my friend?” I asked Stallion.

He made no objection and peaceably jerked his ears.

“Well, so it’s decided,” I muttered and gently squeezed with my knees (my hands were occupied by the bow and I couldn’t be distracted by the reins), causing the animal to move along the fence.

To the right and the left neat rows of low peasant houses appeared out of the fog. The doors were shut, the windows whole; there were no signs of destruction. Not even the flower beds were trampled. The street was empty. No children, no chickens, no cats, no dogs. It was as if everyone disappeared at once. A loaded wagon was abandoned on the dusty road near a particularly nice house. Not even the smallest waft of smoke could be seen over the chimneys.

The gate that led into one of the houses was wide open. I cast a quick glance at the rickety shack, old and untidy, which seemed completely out of place on such a prosperous street. The door was torn from its hinges. The dark gap of the doorway yawned like the wide-open jaws of a demon. I quickly rode away. Just in case.

The fog thinned out more, the visibility improved, and I spied a wooden House of Melot and a bell tower, whose top was lost in the white haze.

BOMMM!

Amidst the deafening silence, the ringing of the bell was unexpectedly piercing. Wrong. Blasphemous. It was like screaming raucous tavern songs in a cemetery. I looked around but didn’t see anything suspicious. I led Stallion to a fence and tied him up. I had to find out who was up there. My hands were itching with a burning desire to throw the idiotic bell ringer from the very top of the tower. So that he’d land face-first on the ground.

The door of the bell tower was wide open.

BOMMM!

“Hold on, you louse,” I hissed. I put my bow in my left hand, as it would be useless in such a cramped space, pulled the axe from my belt, and began to climb the narrow spiral staircase. The boards under my feet creaked treacherously, and I winced, annoyed at the old building. Whoever was on the bell platform could probably hear me.

All that remained was one flight of stairs. I scaled it in three jumps, burst out onto the landing, and nearly crashed into the bell ringer. Or more precisely, his legs.

Some clever prankster had hung the unfortunate man by a rope attached to the clapper of the small bell. Gentle breezes caused the body to sway slightly. That’s where the ringing of the bell was coming from.

It was all so much worse than I had thought. If you go around hanging bell ringers in Melot’s House, then you are a very daring and fearless person indeed. What had they done with the others?

I had to tinker about before I could cut the rope from his scrawny neck. The corpse thudded down onto the boards below and the bell finally fell silent.

I stood on the platform, visible to all. Unfortunately, below the railing the fog was thick and I couldn’t get a good look around. I’d have to ride onward blindly, but I had to get to the road as soon as possible. The people who so thirsted to hear the ringing of the bell might show up here at any moment to find out why it had been silenced. I needed to get back to the fields to avoid the people who hanged that poor soul. I started to make my way down, hoping that Gis was still safe and sound. While I was fooling around up top, nothing had changed on the village street. Stallion was waiting for me where I’d left him. The horse trod lightly, the fog muffling the sounds of his hooves so well I had no fear of being overheard.

A saddled horse suddenly jumped out from behind the tall fence and almost flew right by me, but at the last moment I managed to grab it by the halter. The beast belonged to Gis. Melot! What had befallen the courier? Fly could have escaped if she was poorly tied up. But there was a worse possibility; Gis could have been killed. The whole question was, who or what did it? The courier had clearly fallen on some bad luck, but he had only himself to blame for it. I wouldn’t search for him to find out what happened. He had his own concerns, and I had mine. I didn’t need to lay another’s idiocy on my own head.

I had almost exited the village when I spotted figures in the fog. I sharply reined in Stallion and slipped from the saddle.

Had I been seen?

I led the animals backward, praying to Melot that they wouldn’t inadvertently start neighing. Now the sound of their hooves didn’t seem as quiet as before. Leaving the horses in the care of the nearest fence, I armed myself with my bow and, not taking my eyes off the foggy veil, walked forward.

There were six of them. Swarthy, with black mustaches and shaved heads. Wearing saffron-colored robes and turbans. Costly, wide belts, curved sabers, small composite bows. I hadn’t expected an encounter with Sdisian warriors in the heartland of the Empire. There was no time to think about how they came to be here or what they wanted. I saw Gis in the midst of the six soldiers. He was lying on the ground, bound hand and foot, and the bald men were standing over him, apparently having a lively debate in their guttural, melodious language about the best way to finish him off. The men were so engrossed in their conversation that they didn’t notice me in the slightest. It would be a sin to throw away such a chance.

Before they came to their senses and realized where the arrows were flying from, I killed one and seriously wounded another. Two of them rushed toward their horses, and while a third reached for his bow, the fourth drew his sword, clearly intending to finish Gis off. I had to hurry.

My cheek felt the momentary brush of feathers and a soldier dressed in saffron fell to the ground next to the courier.

One less.

I outpaced the archer by a second. He had just about completed taking his aim at me, but my arrow caught him in the chest and he didn’t get me. His short bow, which was no match for mine, trembled in his enfeebled hands.

Meanwhile, the two horsemen were rushing at me, howling and waving their sabers. It was useless to run, too late to shoot. At the last moment, right before I was crushed by a charging horse, I jumped to the side and ducked to avoid a blade. Both my opponents flew by me and disappeared into the fog before I had a chance to take aim.

Of course, they did return.

As soon as a dark splotch appeared in the white shroud, I shot and a Sdisian fell from his horse. The last of this bizarre company was a cunning fellow. He did not rush right at me, but dismounted and almost got me, leaping out from a completely unexpected direction. Only Gis’s outcry warned me of the danger. I didn’t have time to use my bow. I had to scamper away from the saber of the dark-skinned freak in the most comical manner. He charged after me, bellowing challengingly, but I have to say that the bandy-legged klutz didn’t run nearly as fast as he should have. As soon as there was enough distance between us, I shot the man easily.

“I didn’t expect to meet you here,” said the courier in lieu of a greeting.

I silently cut the rope from his hands. Then from his feet.

“You dispatched them handily.” He nodded toward the dead men. “Something you’re used to?”

“How were you caught?” I ignored his question.

“Uh…” My companion paused to rub his wrists. “They nicked me with a stupid arrow, and took me down like a duck. I fell off my horse, and they trussed me up. Your help was most welcome. Thank you.”

“Not at all,” I said dryly. “I wasn’t planning to look for you.”

“I understand,” he said, and chuckled. “I can only thank Melot that you saw the light.”

“Get up. We have to leave.”

“I’d be happy to, but my head’s still buzzing.” He groaned, taking out a flask of reska.

“Do you know what happened here? Where everyone went?”

“No. Perhaps they ran, perhaps they were chased, killed, eaten, turned into butterflies, who knows,” Gis said morosely. “There’s no one here except the Sdisians. No bodies, no traces.”

“Well, on the matter of bodies—you’re way off. There was one ringing the bell.”

I quickly told him about the hanged man.

“That’s just the kind of trick they like to play.” The courier looked at the dead archer with hatred in his eyes. “They say they are masters at arranging such nastiness.”

“Nonsense. The Highborn of Sandon could put them to shame. And our lads from the frontier garrisons played such tricks on the bastards from the House of Butterfly (one of the Houses of the Highborn. Notable for their cruelty toward human prisoners of war) almost every day.”

“You were involved in that war?” he asked with interest.

“I had to be,” I replied reluctantly, waiting for a barrage of questions. But he only nodded.

“Right now we are fighting in the north and east, and I didn’t expect to see a Sdisian patrol so far to the west of the Empire. How did they manage to penetrate so deep, and to bypass all the patrols and outposts?”

“That’s easy. Through the fields and forests. Another thing—what do they want here? Why in the Abyss have they wandered in so far, and just six of them?”

“They could be a preliminary reconnaissance squad. They are marching not far from Crow’s Nest. Al’sgara hasn’t been attacked yet; perhaps it’s her time. We don’t actually know how many of them there are.”

“And I don’t plan to find out.” I pulled him to his feet. “Let’s go.”

“I’m afraid I can’t go anywhere until I find Fly. She gave me the slip.”

“You’re lucky. Your mare didn’t run far. I’ll be right back.”

Having left Gis, I went after the horses and stopped in my tracks when I saw that two more animals had appeared next to Stallion and Fly.

Before I could figure out where such a miracle had come from, something struck my legs and I fell straight on my back, so hard that my teeth clacked. Ignoring the pain, I rolled to the side, began to get to my feet, and once again got a whack to the legs from the invisible something. I fell again, tried to jump up again, simultaneously turning my head in the hopes of seeing my unseen enemy.

This time I was lucky and I saw a man running out of the fog. I raised my bow and almost instantly tossed it aside with a yelp. My weapon flashed with a bright flame and it was only by some miracle that I didn’t burn my hands. Meanwhile the stranger was right in my face. He once again struck me down to the ground, and then he pinned me there with his weight and began clawing at my neck with his hands.

“Gotcha!” he wailed in a sepulchral voice.

I tried to resist, but some strange force wouldn’t let me move a muscle. Steel fingers squeezed relentlessly at my throat.

“Where are they? Where are the boy and girl? Speak!” yelled the lunatic. He obviously didn’t grasp the fact that in just a little while I would never be able to speak to anyone again.

Not once in my life had I fallen into such a bind. Even being led to the gallows was easier. Lungs burning, I tried to pull in just a drop of air. My ears were buzzing. It was just at that moment that I recognized my enemy—it was none other than the half-wit Pork from Dog Green. He had changed greatly, and his eyes were glowing with a white light.

Coming to my rescue, Gis kicked the idiot in the face, and this forced him to let go of my neck. I immediately took the opportunity to fight back, and threw my opponent off of me. He snarled, jumped at me, and then something unheard-of happened. The courier took a short, twisted wand inlaid with red stone from his bag and pointed it at our assailant. Pork twitched once and then froze. His face contorted, and the next second he fell facedown on the ground, twitching with convulsions.

“You alive?” Gis asked me as if nothing were the matter.

I coughed desperately and rubbed my poor neck. The fool was surprisingly strong. I considered it a miracle that he hadn’t broken my spine.

“Hey! Are you alive?” Gis asked again.

“Thanks to your efforts, wizard,” I croaked. “Thanks to your efforts.”

“Well then,” he said after a pause. “I’m glad I don’t have to explain anything to you.”

“Only a fool… would not understand… what kind of people… carry twisted wands with rubies.”

Gis grinned and suddenly asked, “Do you know him?”

“Yes. Pork. From the village where I lived for the last few years. I can’t imagine how he came to be here.”

At that moment the fool groaned, sat up, shook his head, and looked at us. His eyes were no longer white, but had become blue once again.

“Well, now we’ll have a chat.” I turned toward him with a determined air.

The cowherd, realizing that he would be beaten, squealed thinly and clasped his hands.

“No! Don’t! It wasn’t me!” he whined. “Please! I’m good!”

“Ness!” Gis called to me quietly.

“What?” I stopped halfway and looked at him angrily.

“Leave him alone. He’s not to blame.”

“Not to blame!” agreed Pork and for some reason began looking around cautiously. “It’s all Mistress. She made me. Yes!”

“How do you know?” I asked Gis, ignoring the fool’s words.

“It’s obvious. Your acquaintance shows all the signs of possession. And it’s very strange.”

“Do you mean to tell me that one of your friends has taken up shop in him?” I asked him incredulously.

“Well, first of all, demons are not my friends. Get that into your head. And secondly, the one bound to him is not a demon. I’ve never encountered anything like it.”

“But now he looks…” I wanted to say “normal” but I realized that such a word didn’t really fit the village idiot.

“Not possessed?” continued Gis. “That’s not at all surprising. I managed to save the young man from his companion in time…. Hey! Hey! Stop!”

I turned around and saw that Pork was running away from us so fast that his heels were on fire. Well sure, why would he wait around until we were done chatting and decided to give him a drubbing? Gis and I ran after him.

The cowherd was quick. He disappeared into the damned fog and for some time we ran aimlessly, hoping to catch him.

“It’s useless!” I said finally. “He must have turned aside and we ran past him. Shit! It’s like looking for wind in a field!”

I was beginning to regret that I hadn’t stabbed the fool in the back with my axe. I wanted to take him alive, and this was the result. Gone, like water in sand. No way would I catch him now.

“I don’t mean to upset you, but we need to get out of here as soon as possible.” Gis had not parted with his wand.

“Why such haste?” I asked irritably, angry at both him and myself for having lost Pork. “An hour ago I couldn’t persuade you to pass this place by.”

“You’ve got to understand the situation, lad.” He drew out the words, staring into the fog. “Of course I am not at all averse to staying here, but your friend, or rather, the one who controls him, is weak for the moment, but has quite a bit of real magic. And I, for all my considerable experience, would not want to face him when he finally takes control of that poor man again. So I ask you kindly, stop baring your teeth at me and let’s go.”

His expression was very troubled, and I decided not to argue.

Less than three hours later we found the road, and by evening we were sitting in a decent roadside tavern and everything that had happened that morning might have seemed like a dream if not for one thing—the fingerprints of that hapless strangler on my neck.

The incident with Pork seemed very, very strange. I kept wondering how he found me and what he wanted. Why did he attack? Who was he asking about? Where did I come into it? At first I didn’t recognize him at all. He was dressed far more nicely than usual, and his appearance had changed. It was as if someone fashioned a new face for him. There was quite a noticeable difference between the Pork from before and the current Pork. He little resembled the idiot I’d seen almost every day I was living in Dog Green. He was a completely normal man, if just a little bit off. That, and he had impossibly white eyes.

What? What, the Abyss take me, was going on? And why did Gis say that the moron was possessed and had magic? The perpetual laughingstock of the whole village—a mage? Don’t make me laugh! However, the wizard probably knew better.

That’s another of today’s surprises—the dusty, gray mouse turned out to be a lion.

I put down my completely untouched mug of shaf and stared grimly at the man who I’d gotten used to calling a courier. He caught my gaze and grinned.

“What is it?” I asked irritably.

“You’re a very patient man. You’ve been silent all day, like a stubborn Je’arre or a proud Highborn. But I can see in your eyes that you have more questions than a Nirit has teeth. Ask me.”

“Who are you?”

“Hmm. I thought you already had an idea.”

“Pretend I’m ignorant. I don’t even know your name.”

“You can call me Gis. That’s a real name.”

“And you—”

“Just talk quieter,” he swiftly interrupted. “Why bother these nice people?”

Here he was right. The tavern was full of customers, and if these farmers, traders, travelers, and soldiers from the nearest garrison found out that someone from the Scarlet Order was sitting next to them, who knows what would happen? I think they’d probably only be more alarmed at meeting a necromancer. While the Walkers, the Viceroys, and the Emperor himself recognized the existence of the wizards as a necessary evil, the common folk were afraid of people like Gis.

It is said that the Scarlets possess their own, very strange magic, which has no effect on ordinary people, but works perfectly well on various demons and spirits. It’s quite easy to understand why someone who could control such fierce and terrible beings would be dreaded even more than the Damned. The Damned were far away. Beyond the Boxwood Mountains, Nabator, and the Great Waste. But the Scarlets—here they are. Right next to you. And the darkness knows how strangely they’ll behave. One thing’s for sure—it won’t be anything good.

I didn’t think that way. I’d never seen the wizards do anything wicked. Even if they wanted to, the Walkers would quickly take them under their authority, since even the strongest tamer of demons was no more dangerous than an ordinary man without his amulets, wand, and books of Invocation. As for the magic, even the weakest Ember could easily overpower a wizard. The wearers of scarlet cloth did not possess the spark. All their abilities were based on long study, good memory, and plenty of artifacts. As some wiseasses joked, with due diligence, even a monkey can learn to master demons.

“You don’t really look like a wizard,” I said, lowering my voice. “More like a…”

“A courier?” His narrow face looked inordinately satisfied.

“Just a little. Why the masquerade?”

“Have you ever tried traveling in scarlet clothing?”

“No.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it.”

As I already said, people have very little love for those who rub elbows with demons. The roads are long and all sorts of nasty things can happen on them. Including a crossbow bolt from the bushes. And not all the demons of the Abyss could save you from that. So here Gis was correct—it would be better to have something more modest than red silk and velvet in reserve for long travels. Like the costume of a courier, for example.

“What compelled the Magister to hit the road?”

He was astonished but he did not hide it. He yanked at his walrus mustache and said, “You never cease to amaze me, lad.”

“Right. A simple acolyte would never have a wand with gems of that size.”

“Allow me to keep silent about my business.”

“But is everything you told us about Gash-Shaku true?”

“Yes. The city is under siege. I barely managed to get out. And everything else is also true.”

I nodded grimly.

“I’m glad that you, unlike so many others, do not shy away from me,” he said suddenly.

“Should I?”

“Many people do just that.”

“Actually, I don’t really care who you are, and I care not a whit for the causes of your journey.”

“So much the better for both of us. Tell me, that man who squeezed your throat with such abandon, does he always act like that with his friends?”

“I don’t really know. I never noticed him do anything of the sort before. I don’t understand what happened at all. You said he was connected with demons.”

“Did I? I don’t recall that.”

“I thought you said something about possession?”

“Possession is not caused by creatures from the Abyss, but by spirits.”

“What difference does it make to me? Do you have some way of explaining what happened to him?”

Gis frowned, clasped his fingers together, and cracked his knuckles.

“The lad is possessed, as I said. But it is somehow strange. I”—he made a point of highlighting the word—“have never encountered anything like it. And such a case is not mentioned anywhere in the book of Invocation.”

“The real question is, where did our village idiot manage to unearth such foul trash?”

“I really don’t know. He could have encountered it anywhere. Or it him, for the minds of the mentally ill are always open to such creatures. Are there any ancient burial grounds near your village, or abandoned settlements or anything like that?”

“No. But I think a pig will always find a way to get dirty.”

He nodded thoughtfully; then he remembered his plate and looked with dismay at his cold food.

“At first, when I saw the boy, I thought he was a bandit. Then something made me look at him differently. I’m telling you, what I saw amazed me. It was like someone was standing behind him and pulling the strings. And this one had the Gift, no doubt about it. More than enough to incapacitate you. So I didn’t hesitate.”

“You took your wand and finished the wretch,” I concluded for him.

“I’m afraid not,” he said gloomily. “I wasn’t able to kill it, or even drive it out completely.” It was clear that Gis was wounded to the depths of his soul. “It was so far from everything I’ve experienced before that not a single one of my formulas of expulsion worked. Do you understand what I’m talking about, or should I speak more simply?”

“I understand. Go on.”

“Well, anyway, I managed to cut the thread for a short time and give the lad his freedom. You saw how he came to.”

“What happened to the spirit?”

“It’s keeping its head down for the time being, I suppose.”

“And you can’t beat it?”

“You can beat anything. The question is how. I suppose if you destroyed the physical shell that holds the spirit, there might be some chance of getting rid of it.”

I just ground my teeth. This was the second time I was regretting that I hadn’t sent the cowherd to the Blessed Gardens. I should have done it the moment Midge dragged him out of the bushes into that accursed glade.

“In fact, we were lucky. If I hadn’t caught the spirit by surprise, it could have all ended badly. I had a thought. Were there any Walkers or Embers in your village?”

“What would they have to do there?”

“Hmmm…. Well, they could just be passing through. I’m just trying to figure out where such a strange entity came from. I’d bet my wand it was a mage in life.”

“Anything’s possible.”

“So you haven’t seen anyone like that? Strange.” He lowered his bushy eyebrows.

“What’s so strange?”

“I have a hypothesis, a guess,” he immediately corrected himself, thinking I didn’t know the meaning of the first word. “If a mage died next to your Pork, then his spirit could very well have made use of the opportunity and…” He didn’t finish and, sighing bitterly, started in on his cold food. But I sat there, neither living nor dead. Unlike Gis, I knew what kind of mage had died in Dog Green.

A Damned!

The murderer of Sorita!

Typhoid!

And Pork, as far as I recall, was not very far from her at the time.

Was I right? Did that snake really manage the impossible and survive after the attack of the Healer and my arrows? Rumor has always had it that the Damned cling to life, but that’s just insane! And if she really did survive and shift herself into Pork, then it’s quite clear just who the “cowherd” was looking for. Shen and Layen!

“Hey! My friend. Are you all right?” Gis inquired solicitously, while pouring gravy over his meat.

“Yes,” I said, and I forced a smile.

The cowherd stopped glancing back over his shoulder every second the day after that horrible Mistress, who had wronged and terrified Pork for so long, disappeared. After he ran into Pars the carpenter, who had nearly beat him, his lady no longer appeared. At first Pork didn’t believe in his good fortune and kept waiting for the terrible woman to return at any moment. He shivered like an aspen leaf in a strong fall wind from anticipation. He was scared, hungry, his whole body hurt, and he wanted to go home.

For a while the half-wit hid in the village, fearing to bump into the savage carpenter who was chasing after him, but when the danger had passed he even dared to sneak into one of the empty houses and steal a few onions. That somewhat assuaged his hunger and Pork set out to return home. Even though there he had to deal with his father’s beatings and the ridicule of the villagers, he was always well fed and not terrified by the horrible living dead.

Having come to this decision, he left the village, but he headed in the completely opposite direction from that which would lead him to Dog Green. Unaware of this, the half-wit confidently walked through the endless fields. He didn’t meet a single living soul along the road, not counting the multitudes of squirrels to be found in this region. Pork was so hungry that he tried to catch at least one of them. Regardless of the fact that the animals seemed fat and clumsy, they ran quickly and immediately hid in their holes. Pork shoved his hand into the nearest hole and his finger was bitten mercilessly. Just then he happened to look over his shoulder and see Mistress’s face, deformed with fury.

Then the pain came.