The Sleeping Life

Chapter Eleven

Fallon tried not to eavesdrop on the Kolans sharing their carriage as they spoke in choked undertones. He only caught the occasional word. That was enough.

Cold, wet and fighting his own perennial weariness, Fallon struggled to put away horror, and think in purely practical terms. He would catch a chill. Worse, Duchess Surclere, though far less damp, really needed to be kept warm and quiet after casting such a powerful spell, not racketing along through the rain.

Such an incredible casting! Fallon had had barely a chance to consider it, but it hadn’t resembled any of the standard light conjurations: there had been no container or point of focus. A twist of air, it seemed, burning white. Duchess Surclere cast so differently, with such complete assurance.

Reminded of the need to keep his teacher alive, Fallon debated the risk of another casting. Lieutenant Meniar, when his strength had run low, had had Fallon and Sukata cast the last few expulsions, since they could afford no delay. That had quickly brought Fallon near the limit of his casting capacity, but surely he could afford a standard warmth Sigillic, to dry them all out a little.

He slept immediately after, which was no escape since it only brought him the same scene in the Dream, with the added complication of Auri, confused and anxious. She stood in the middle of the carriage, unable to avoid the many knees, staring at the dripping, tightly-crammed occupants.

"Some kind of accident?" she asked, turning to Fallon. But she was at least able to gauge his state, and not attempt to bring him in all the way to talk to her. Vexed, she made an ungainly upward leap and swam through the ceiling of the carriage.

Fallon shifted restlessly, hoping in the vague way that the Dream brought to him that he would manage to catch up on sleep before Auri’s impatience overcame her sense. Or at least listening to people within range would provide her with a little potted explanation in Tyrian. She could speak some Kolan, of course, but was years behind him now.

Beside Fallon, the older of the two girls the Kellian had brought out from the Waystation burrowed deeper into Sukata’s side, kicking Fallon in the process. Neither of them had loosed their grip on the Kellian girl for a moment, even though she no longer burned like lightning.

Fallon didn’t blame the girls—he’d been inordinately glad of Sukata himself—but clinginess did complicate matters when they arrived at the next safe place along the Imperial Way: a small town about an hour away.

Lieutenant Meniar, with officials crowding around him, became very firm on the subject of making sure Duchess Surclere was bedded down somewhere warm and quiet, and dealt with the girls by telling Sukata to just take them with her. Then he and Lieutenant Faral left.

Fallon played gatekeeper for a while, chasing off the curious, then retreated to one of the rooms they’d been allotted. He took time out to write a diary entry he could prop open for Auri’s benefit, then finally crawled under his blankets and stayed there.

Someone was making a lot of noise downstairs. None too pleased, Kendall cast a watchful eye over Rennyn and Sukata. Rennyn stayed as she had been since they’d put her to bed the night before, but of course Sukata’s eyes opened. Kendall hadn’t been able to convince her friend she needn’t stay up all night when they were in the safety of a circle, and had only won her point after she herself had slept and could take the next watch. Now, not even midday and there’d be no getting the Kellian girl back to sleep.

The noise was coming closer: at least a half-dozen people, gabbling away. Sukata sat up, carefully shifting the little leech she’d rescued from the Waystation. The other girl had been a local maid, and had been collected by her family the previous evening, but the younger was harder to get rid of. She spoke a mix of Verisian and Kolan, only seemed to know her first name, and had a fit whenever anyone tried to take her away from Sukata. Eventually Sukata had agreed to look after her overnight while the Kolan version of the Guard tried to find where she belonged.

Kendall guessed that they’d worked something out, since the leech’s name was Maribe and that was about the only word Kendall recognised from the squawking and fussing outside. It woke the leech up, anyway. Sukata made a quick motion, but too late, as big blue eyes went wide and the little pink mouth opened.

"Nonna!"

The brat had a squeal like a needle. Rennyn sure jerked like she’d been stuck with one, then wrapped her arms over her head and cringed down under the blankets. Sukata froze for an instant, then crossed and opened the door, just as the leech barrelled toward it. She followed the girl through, and closed the door neatly behind.

It didn’t seem like anything could stop the fuss outside, with excited gabble filling the hall, but then it lowered, heading downstairs. Sukata had drawn them off. No fun for her, since everyone in the town had heard about the lightning spirits who had saved the caravan, and wanted nothing more than to gawp and ask questions.

The door opened again, but it was just the Pest, and Kendall waved him off, going to close the curtains and make sure the mageglows were most-ways covered. The Pest was sensible for once and went away, and when the door shut Rennyn uncurled enough to poke her head out from beneath the blanket.

Kendall helped her drink honey water and washed her face, and then Sukata was back to carry her into the so-fancy privy closet that Kolans actually built into the corner of their hostelry rooms. Rennyn was in bad shape, shaking, with her eyes slitted in pain. Sukata was worried enough about her to fret visibly about not staying in there to hold her upright.

They’d tucked her back in bed by the time the Pest showed up with hot soup, which Sukata tipped into a mug and held it for Rennyn to drink. Rennyn barely managed two swallows before she passed out again.

"There are city officials downstairs wanting to talk to her," the Pest whispered, after they’d all withdrawn to the door to discuss what to do next. "One of them speaks Tyrian, and doesn’t plan to be fobbed off. They have a healer mage with them."

He’d no sooner told them then there was a brisk knock at the door. Sukata and the Pest slipped back into the corridor, but Kendall wasn’t surprised when the door opened again and a skinny, grandfatherly sort bustled straight across to Rennyn. Sukata could stop anyone getting in if it was really necessary, but Lieutenant Meniar had told them not to make too much of a fuss.

A short, plump woman wearing a half-mask followed. In Kole, nobles, bureaucrats and people getting above themselves wore these masks to honour their creepy-sounding Emperor, who never took his off. The very plain masks covering the top half of the face seemed to be the style that meant official. Despite the mask, Kendall could see the woman’s dark eyes flicking left and right, checking out everything lying about the room.

Kendall left her to Sukata and the Pest, and went and stayed obstinately at the healer-mage’s side. Lieutenant Meniar had given Rennyn a thorough examination and done what he could for her before he and Lieutenant Faral had headed out with a troop of the local soldiers to go bug hunting and find Captain Faille, and he’d said there wasn’t much that could be done beyond keeping her warm and fed and casting the fortifier he’d taught Sukata. Fortunately the healer-mage just checked her over, and Sukata and the Pest had no problem with the official, who was more curious than suspicious. Their reason for visiting Kole was real enough—it was just the whole thing about hunting Rennyn’s demon uncle down afterwards that they weren’t broadcasting.

After they left, Sukata stayed by the door a little while, clearly listening, and finally said: "They are very interested because of the strength of the light casting, which is still active. The official has been specifically instructed to report directly to the Emperor’s…to the palace intelligence network? Any incidents relating to mages, particularly mages of strength, is to be reported."

"The whole town is talking of nothing but lightning spirits and mages," the Pest said. "Though it’s as much Lieutenant Meniar as the Duchess they’ve been discussing. He saved a lot of lives."

So much for keeping a low profile. If demon princes could read Kolan newssheets, then they’d just told him exactly where Rennyn was. Kendall didn’t think that was much of a problem until the day stretched into the next, and they were still waiting around in the inn.

Rennyn never once asked where anyone was as she progressed to being able to sit in bed reading and napping, and tottering about for short distances. She’d glance around the room each time she woke, but that was all. She knew as well as any of them that Sentene were incapable of leaving something like a Kentatsuki out there, no matter what country they were in.

When Rennyn finally ran out of newssheets, she had them clear one corner of the room and spent her time dictating sigils for Sukata to write in a circle that curved across both walls and the floor.

From Kendall’s careful consultation of the Sigillic dictionary, this circle had something to do with making sounds louder, which was an odd thing for someone with a persistent headache to be caring about. Sukata and the Pest couldn’t work out much more than that either, and Rennyn wasn’t in an explaining mood.

It was all very dull. Kendall longed to go exploring, but the Kolans' silly language and Rennyn’s babysitting needs made a jaunt more trouble than it was worth. And the longer the day wore on, the harder it was not to fret about bugs.

One sting. That’s all it would take.

The scent of rain, and oil on metal. Damp wool. Hints of sweat and horse and leather.

"Illidian."

As Rennyn climbed from her blankets into his lap, the cold knot in her stomach finally unwound. She’d spent the past day pointlessly angry at him, for not being with her, for being in danger. And yet she would have wanted him to do exactly as he had, should she have been conscious enough to have any choice in the matter. The damnable weakness made her selfish. On the bad days her hatred of being so incapable splashed over onto everyone and everything, and all she could do was bite her tongue and endure.

Illidian could say a great deal without speaking. An initial close embrace. A soft breath stirring the strands of hair on the crown of her head. Then slight shifts, as he inspected as much as he could see of her without relaxing his arms. One hand smoothed a short distance along her spine, and then he moved her so she was not so tightly held, lifted her effortlessly, and took her out and down to a steam-soaked room on the lowest floor of the inn.

In the short months of their marriage Illidian had quickly learned that one of the things she hated most was the sense of grime that came with being bedridden. That and the humiliating necessity of being carried to the privy—or collapsing trying to get there alone. They’d had several discussions about Kolan bathhouses, and it was typical of Illidian that once the Kentatsuki was out of the way he’d reverted to their original plan for enjoying the first one they came to. They were certainly more convenient than a beaten metal tub manually filled.

If only she could revert to the physical condition she’d been in two days ago. At least with Illidian there the probability of passing out in the bath was not so great an issue. And it was wonderful being very warm and slippery clean and able to see that he was completely uninjured, only a little worn and tired. She fell asleep, woke snug in bed, and watched him reading for the short time before Kellian senses alerted him to her gaze. With him safely under her eye she finally felt able to question what had happened.

"Could it have been coincidence?"

"I lean toward the view." Illidian glanced briefly at the nearest window, which showed only that it was still night outside. "The Kolan commander we worked with told me that this is not the first Eferum-Get of unusually high calibre they’ve encountered in the past month. They may be remnants of the incursions caused by the Grand Summoning, since the impact of that stretched well past Tyrland’s borders. Merely bad fortune that we encounter a Kentatsuki. Yet, given Prince Helecho’s abilities, not impossible that he could arrange such a thing. I could not find any trace of him, amongst the swarm."

"How far did it spread?" The length of his absence had already told her that containment hadn’t been simple.

"Two of the nearby farmsteads were completely lost. Three more with some survivors. When we could no longer track any roaming Kentatsuki, the soldiery recalled the small bands searching the area. They will commit a very large force and sweep the entire region to ensure none escaped. It’s a methodical approach, and they’ll clear any other Eferum-Get in the area at the same time. And the settlements have been warned."

There was a hint of dissatisfaction in his thin voice. It was one thing to be unable to find any Kentatsuki in the immediate area, and another to be certain none had escaped.

"What was the Kolan attitude toward your involvement?"

"Relief, primarily. A little unease and surprise when witnessing our inhuman aspects, but the Sentene are not unknown outside Tyrland’s borders, and of course the Grand Summoning has been widely discussed in many countries. The commander was also aware of the role we both played, and the recent debates regarding Kellian. Any hope we had of travelling unremarked is completely lost, but our reasons for journeying to Koletor are not openly doubted. They are unlikely to interfere with us, but will certainly keep us under observation. It is more the possibility that, trap or not, Prince Helecho will hear of our presence and come here. If that had been anything less than a Kentatsuki, I could not have risked leaving you so long with only Sukata as protection."

Her Wicked Uncle had already demonstrated that travelling via the Eferum made it easy for him to keep a step ahead of them, though the lack of Grand Summoning-related breaches from the Eferum might make that no longer so true.

"We leave at dawn, then?"

"Yes. A very large caravan, since this emergency has kept almost everyone from the roads. They were very careful to reserve space for us." His voice was dry, for Kellian were used to being seen as convenient. "What is it you’re trying to hear?"

She shifted to look at the Sigillic barely visible in the muted light of the partially covered glows. "I don’t know. Something magic-based, because if it was simply sound, it would be you, not me, trying to track it down. Three times now, since we approached port, there’s been snatches of music too distant for me to properly hear. I’ve yet to construct something I would risk casting, since the subject is so vague to me, and I can barely stay conscious to concentrate. It is possible that it’s simply area noise—part of the land’s natural magic—but I don’t like to ignore it."

The way Illidian’s arms tightened told her that he didn’t, either. She could only hope that the solution wouldn’t be delayed too long by her interminable need to sleep.