lifted the amulet once more. “Yes?”
She cast the amulet a look of loathing that gave Tobin some hope, then stalked forward and laid her hand on it.
“Talk,” she commanded.
He had only to close his hand and yank her down as he raised his left fist. And then what?
Tobin seated himself cross-legged, so he was even less threatening, and told her what had passed between him and the one-eyed storyteller after he’d freed Tobin from the cage. Tobin tried to keep back some of the details, like Vruud’s whole escape plan, but she saw the gaps in his story and refused to let him gloss over them.
“You talk, Softer. Or I’ll talk to the others.”
In the end, it was a relief to reveal all of it, including his doubts. “Because you’re right,” Tobin concluded. “Vruud’s only looking out for himself. I don’t even know how much of what he told me is true.”
He’d picked up some confirmation listening to the chanduri in other camps—but since they couldn’t understand him unless they were touching his amulet, it was hard to casually bring the conversation around to the hunt for the missing Softer, the nature of blood magic, or any of the things about which Tobin desperately needed assurance.
“Oh, he told the truth,” the woman said now. “If you wear that blood trust outside one of the camps, the patrols will sense magic moving alone, just as they’d sense a spirit or some other magical creature. They’d track you down with ease. But I’m not sure his plan to accompany the Duri into battle so he can make a story about them will work. Nine-tenths of his tales are lies anyway. Why shouldn’t this one be? And why would he need his servant there?”
“He didn’t say he was certain it would work,” Tobin admitted. “But it was the best idea he had. He’s really only interested in his own escape. If he didn’t know that he’ll need me when he reaches my side of the lines, I’d still be in that cage. He made no pretense of anything else.”
“Maybe I can think of something better,” the woman said. “Since I’ll be going with you.”
Tobin’s jaw dropped. He’d been about to propose that the storyteller would pay lots of money to keep her quiet.
“Vruud will never agree to that,” Tobin told her. “He’s going to be furious that I told you about this at all. He’d never jeopardize his chance by taking someone else with us. If he didn’t need me to keep him alive when he reaches the Realm, he wouldn’t take me!”
“And you think Vruud’s the only one prepared to be ruthless?”
Her expressive face was closed now, but Tobin could see thoughts moving behind it.
“My mother was slain to make a few dozen of those amulets, just three years ago,” the woman said. “That’s why I didn’t want to touch it. I’ve no way to know, but it might be her very blood and death that we’re using to talk right now.”
“It’s the only way I can speak to you,” said Tobin apologetically. “But my own people, our church, declared them unholy when they found out how they were made. They forbid anyone to use them, except in cases of dire necessity.”
“Like going to spy on the enemy?” she asked.
“Spies are one of the exceptions,” Tobin admitted. “But I didn’t come to spy. I really am here by accident.”
How had Makenna managed to get past the magic drain and create the gate they’d shoved him through? Had she made others? Had she too been captured, and were she and Regg and Onny, all his goblin friends, being held in some other camp’s captive cage?
If they were, there was nothing Tobin could do about it. His job was to get himself and Vruud to safety . . . and perhaps one other?
“I don’t know if Vruud will agree,” Tobin said honestly. “I don’t even know how I can get myself to our lines, much less you and Vruud. But if you don’t tell the Duri about me, I’m willing to try.”
“What about Vruud?” the woman asked. “Will he try as well?”
“What
She cast the amulet a look of loathing that gave Tobin some hope, then stalked forward and laid her hand on it.
“Talk,” she commanded.
He had only to close his hand and yank her down as he raised his left fist. And then what?
Tobin seated himself cross-legged, so he was even less threatening, and told her what had passed between him and the one-eyed storyteller after he’d freed Tobin from the cage. Tobin tried to keep back some of the details, like Vruud’s whole escape plan, but she saw the gaps in his story and refused to let him gloss over them.
“You talk, Softer. Or I’ll talk to the others.”
In the end, it was a relief to reveal all of it, including his doubts. “Because you’re right,” Tobin concluded. “Vruud’s only looking out for himself. I don’t even know how much of what he told me is true.”
He’d picked up some confirmation listening to the chanduri in other camps—but since they couldn’t understand him unless they were touching his amulet, it was hard to casually bring the conversation around to the hunt for the missing Softer, the nature of blood magic, or any of the things about which Tobin desperately needed assurance.
“Oh, he told the truth,” the woman said now. “If you wear that blood trust outside one of the camps, the patrols will sense magic moving alone, just as they’d sense a spirit or some other magical creature. They’d track you down with ease. But I’m not sure his plan to accompany the Duri into battle so he can make a story about them will work. Nine-tenths of his tales are lies anyway. Why shouldn’t this one be? And why would he need his servant there?”
“He didn’t say he was certain it would work,” Tobin admitted. “But it was the best idea he had. He’s really only interested in his own escape. If he didn’t know that he’ll need me when he reaches my side of the lines, I’d still be in that cage. He made no pretense of anything else.”
“Maybe I can think of something better,” the woman said. “Since I’ll be going with you.”
Tobin’s jaw dropped. He’d been about to propose that the storyteller would pay lots of money to keep her quiet.
“Vruud will never agree to that,” Tobin told her. “He’s going to be furious that I told you about this at all. He’d never jeopardize his chance by taking someone else with us. If he didn’t need me to keep him alive when he reaches the Realm, he wouldn’t take me!”
“And you think Vruud’s the only one prepared to be ruthless?”
Her expressive face was closed now, but Tobin could see thoughts moving behind it.
“My mother was slain to make a few dozen of those amulets, just three years ago,” the woman said. “That’s why I didn’t want to touch it. I’ve no way to know, but it might be her very blood and death that we’re using to talk right now.”
“It’s the only way I can speak to you,” said Tobin apologetically. “But my own people, our church, declared them unholy when they found out how they were made. They forbid anyone to use them, except in cases of dire necessity.”
“Like going to spy on the enemy?” she asked.
“Spies are one of the exceptions,” Tobin admitted. “But I didn’t come to spy. I really am here by accident.”
How had Makenna managed to get past the magic drain and create the gate they’d shoved him through? Had she made others? Had she too been captured, and were she and Regg and Onny, all his goblin friends, being held in some other camp’s captive cage?
If they were, there was nothing Tobin could do about it. His job was to get himself and Vruud to safety . . . and perhaps one other?
“I don’t know if Vruud will agree,” Tobin said honestly. “I don’t even know how I can get myself to our lines, much less you and Vruud. But if you don’t tell the Duri about me, I’m willing to try.”
“What about Vruud?” the woman asked. “Will he try as well?”
“What
Similar Books
