The Wild Road (25 page)

Chapter 22

D
AVYN HAD SLEPT
,
but the rest he craved escaped him. Twice he had scrambled hastily out of the wagon in order to be very sick. After the two trips, he brought a bucket in with him.

He woke at dawn as always, turned over onto his back and stared up at the Mother Rib, at the charms dangling from it. Each morning he and Audrun, wakening on the floorboards, asked the Mother's blessing. He did so now, but was aware of a painful emptiness. He was a husband and father lacking wife and children, and each morning he rediscovered that truth, felt again the helplessness of being able to do nothing. The road, Rhuan said, would lead him to his family, but how long before the road existed? Months? Years?

With a growl of annoyance that he should once again give himself over to doubts, worries, and fears, Davyn sat up. He paused, afraid to move, as the canopy slowly revolved. But his belly settled itself this time, perhaps because nothing was left in it.

Moving more slowly now, Davyn took down fresh clothes where he had laid them out on one of the sleeping platforms and put them on. Before going to Mikal's tent to drink himself senseless, he had readied himself for the journey to Cardatha, packing a change of clothing, smallclothes, the comb and tin mirror he and Audrun shared, a straight razor, lump of tallow-colored soap, blankets for bedding. He had rolled all into lengths of oilcloth and tied the thongs. Rain clothing was to hand as well as a packet of dried fruit, dried and salted meat, a chunk of hard cheese, panbread he'd cooked the evening before, and a small cloth bag of tea leaves. Lastly, he tucked inside one stocking the modest number of coin rings remaining to the family, saving two for a deep pocket in his tunic. Though Jorda said the supplies brought back would be shared out equally, Davyn thought it was possible he might find something more, something for Audrun. The coin rings had been intended to see them to Atalanda, but why should he save them now? Atalanda lay farther away than ever.

Davyn rose, slightly bent so as not to bump his head on the canopy ribs, pulled on his boots, gathered up his bedroll, packet, and rain clothes, and climbed out of the wagon into morning. Others, too, were awake. Wives prepared firstmeal; he could smell bacon and panbread, a hint of garlic and wild onions.

All smelled terrible to a man who had imbibed far too many servings of spirits the night before. All threatened the fragile stability of his belly.

Mother, what a fool he had been to drink so much! And powerful spirits at that; when he did drink, though rarely, he had been a man for ale. But it had been so easy to buy a little peace, find relief from the pain of emptiness. The spirits had numbed him.

He wished he was numb now but without a chancy belly, the weight of his aching head, the grittiness of his eyes. Oh, he longed for a mug of Audrun's willow bark tea, for all that it was bitter.

Davyn put up the steps with one agile foot, managing with the ease of long practice; he could not bear thinking about the consequences of bending over to fold them up by hand. Bundling everything under one arm, he squinted briefly across the grove, making note of where wagons were parked and children played. Then he walked a distance away and relieved himself. The pungent odor of spirits rising from urine nearly made him gag. But then his ears were assaulted by a reverberating clangor that rang throughout the grove.

Jorda's Summoner? It must be. What else could make such noise?

So, they were wanted. He knew it would be men who answered the call, those selected by Jorda and Mikal to carry messages to the rest, while women continued to work at the cookfires. Davyn tugged his clothing into something approaching presentability and began the journey out of the grove to Mikal's ale-tent. It took longer than expected, but he supposed that had something to do with the condition of his head and how it affected his balance. He was required to concentrate on where he stepped. Or even
that
he stepped, planting each boot with care. Thank the Mother, the Summoner finally stilled. It allowed him to think of something other than an aching head and delicate belly.

Cardatha-bound, he was. To a
city
. He had heard of but never seen a city. Had never seen stone dwellings. He knew wood planks, mud chinking mixed with grass and straw, split logs, and sod. He could not imagine how people lived within stone squares.

Caught up in his own thoughts, Davyn did not notice another man was approaching him. Nor did the other man notice Davyn. They very nearly ran into one another but stopped abruptly just short of collision. Each opened his mouth to excuse himself, and each lost track of that when he saw the other's face.

“What happened to you?” Davyn blurted.

Rhuan's brows rose. “What happened to
you
? Your eyes are all bloodshot—ah.” He smiled lopsidedly, then winced and pressed a fingertip against his bottom lip. “You were in Mikal's tent long after I was. You carry the odor of spirits, my friend, and also . . .” Belatedly, he let the blunt observation die away. “Well. You probably know what else you smell of. That's often the result of too much drink.”

Davyn made note of the blackened eyes, the swollen nose, the bruises all over Rhuan's face, a split and swollen lip. “And what is your excuse?”

Rhuan hitched one shoulder in a casual shrug. “Apparently three men decided they wanted my bones.”

Davyn nearly recoiled in shock. “Why in the Mother's name would anyone want your
bones
?”

Rhuan's brows rose. “I take it a Kantic diviner was not among the fourteen you consulted before beginning this journey.”

“It was not.”

Rhuan's tone took on a note of instruction. “Well, they break up bones into chips, then burn them. Supposedly they can divine the future that way. And Shoia bones are much in demand because, I'm told, they provide clearer visions.”

Davyn blinked. “But you're not Shoia.”

“They don't know that. And best no one finds out, because who knows who might want other parts of my body besides bones.”

It made no sense. “But you can't die.”

Rhuan grimaced. “No, but that doesn't mean I'd like to die only to wake up chopped into bits.”

“
Would
you wake up if you were chopped into bits?”

The karavan guide scowled. “I have no idea. It's never been attempted, and I'd just as soon leave it that way, thank you.”

“Aren't you ever curious?” Davyn asked. “I mean, curious about how many ways of dying you could experience?”

“No, I'm not curious about how many ways I might die,” Rhuan declared, affronted. “Would you be?”

“But I
would
die,” Davyn pointed out. “The experiment would fail.”

“I'd just as soon not experiment with my body,” Rhuan said decisively, “because even if I do resurrect, it hurts to die.”

Jorda's Summoner rang out again. Both men winced. “Go on,” Rhuan said in a tight voice. “I am going elsewhere as fast as my poor head will allow me.”

Gloomily, Davyn said, “And I have to go
to
it.”

Rhuan clapped a hand to Davyn's shoulder. “Make the trip to Cardatha a safe one.”

As the guide—no, the Alisani-born—strode away, Davyn turned to watch him go. Unbraided, all of the coppery hair hung down in a river to the small of Rhuan's back. Briefly, Davyn wondered why the hair was loose, but then went on toward the ale-tent, where he joined the crowd of men standing outside. Jorda stood before the door flap, as did Mikal.

“Today,” Jorda began, green eyes and tone serious, “there are several tasks before us. With your willingness—and we truly have no other choice—some will cut planks from the downed trees and plane them for the boardwalk. Others can gather up any kind of bucket or pot available and begin collecting stones for Rhuan, who is marking the boundaries prior to building cairns. Older children are welcomed as well, providing they obey, and any women who care to join you. We badly need a boardwalk before the worst of the monsoon arrives, or we'll all be wading in muck. More importantly, because of the deepwood, we need to know where we are safe and where we are not. Do as Rhuan tells you.”

“Why depend on him?” a voice asked. “He's a karavan guide, by the Mother . . . how do we trust him to know where this border is?”

Jorda did not look pleased to be interrupted. “Step out so I may see you.” As a man stepped out from the knot of other men, making himself visible, Jorda continued, nodding. “Ah, you are tent-folk; you would not know, necessarily. Rhuan is one of my guides, yes. He has land-sense. He can sense where the edges of Alisanos are.”

The man, frowning, asked, “How can he do that?”

Jorda paused a moment, then went on briskly. “He's Shoia. You've heard of Shoia, yes? Well, it allows him some abilities we don't have, such as land-sense.” He caught Davyn's eye and continued, moving smoothly away from the subject. “Today some of us leave for Cardatha to buy supplies. We should be back in five days, unless the rains slow us. In the meantime, questions may be asked of Mikal regarding how to plan, for now, and if you hear the ringing of my Summoner as you did earlier, answer it. You will not hear it except when you are needed, or when you are at risk.” Jorda lifted both bars and tapped them in a tattoo of deep, quiet chimes. “This sound is for flying beasts. That draka we saw. If this signal is heard, all who are outside should lie down at once. No talking, no shouting, no crying, but above all,
no movement
. Make this very clear to the children.” He looked over the gathered menfolk as if weighing each of them. “Understand me. There is no predicting if that beast will return, even Rhuan said so. But we must be prepared. And this—” Again he tapped a tattoo quietly, “—means find shelter. Tents, wagons, even beneath trees in the old grove. Anything that may be used as shelter. Make certain your women and children know this.” He handed off the Summoner rods to Mikal. “We'll bring staples back from Cardatha. Meanwhile, have your women count up how much and what kind of food is left to us all. When I return, we will assemble all the food—yours, and what we buy—and store it here in Mikal's tent.”

“Store it!” another man said in startled disbelief. “Why should we store it here? We have wagons and tents of our own.”

This time, Mikal answered. “We must change many habits in order to survive here through the monsoon. We must be fair and equitable, until the season improves and we can plant crops. Meals will be cooked and served here, at my tent. This—” he raised the Summoner rods and tapped out a muted, brief rhythm, “—means meals are ready.”

Davyn was unsurprised by the low-voiced grumbling and scowling among the men. He wasn't certain about this system himself.

Jorda raised his voice. “If you wish to leave, you may. We cannot keep you here. But for the sake of your welfare, I ask that you stay, at least through the monsoon. All of the land is altered because of Alisanos. All must be freshly mapped. I am a karavan-master, and
I
don't know what the terrain looks like or where the roads are now. Will you risk Alisanos as you navigate the passageway? Set off across lands you don't know? Face the rains alone? Risk being found by Hecari while alone in the grasslands?” Jorda nodded as no one answered. “As for the meal lines, it's the only way of insuring every person, be it a child, a woman, a man, has enough to eat. We can't afford to serve only ourselves, or only our own families, while others run out of food. Not now. Not with the Hecari on one side and Alisanos on the other.”

Davyn nodded. That explanation settled his concerns. And from the expressions on the faces of the others, they understood as well.

Five days, Davyn reflected, thinking again about the journey to Cardatha. Five days when he would have no time to think only of his losses. Five days when he had a job to do, the means to aid tent-folk and karavaners alike. Rhuan had been correct to suggest he accompany Jorda. He saw that now. But oh, the condition of his head and belly would be made worse by today's journey.

“No more spirits,” Davyn mumured to himself. “Ale, perhaps, and not often, only now and then—but no more spirits.”

AUDRUN WAS AWARE
of heat, of chills, of sweat, of a body ignoring anything she might wish it to do. It had come upon her of a sudden, a terrible fatigue that turned her bones to water. She remembered speaking to Gillan, remembered feeling weak, recalled seeking her cot. That she had reached it, she knew, because she lay in it now.