“I was too frightened to move.”
“Are you all right now?”
“I think so. I’m shaking.”
“Me, too.”
He noticed that several people had come in, attracted to the scene of the excitement by some magic he didn’t un—
derstand. They were talking in low tones, and pointing to the overturned tables and chairs that Tem was in the process of straightening. “You should go home,” said Savn. “I will,” said Polyi. “Are you going to Master Wag’s?”
“Yes, I—I’m not certain. I just want to sit here for a moment.”
Polyi’s eyes widened suddenly. “I can’t wait to tell Slee about this.” Before Savn could say anything, even if he’d thought of something to say, she was up and out of the door, running.
Savn considered what he wanted to do. Master Wag was expecting him, but Vlad was out there somewhere, hurt. But there was no way to find Vlad, even if he wanted to.
After a moment of thinking, he went up to Tem, who had finished cleaning the floor. He asked Tem for some food, which he put into a large sack that Tem supplied. Tem didn’t seem curious about what Savn wanted these for, or maybe the Housemaster, too, was so stunned by what had happened that he wasn’t thinking clearly. Savn got a large jug of water, sealed with a wax plug, and put it into the sack with the food, working it down to the bottom so it wouldn’t crush everything else.
He slipped into the back and found an empty bedchamber, from which he removed a towel, a sheet, and a blanket. Vlad would be able to pay Tem back for these, if ...
He went out the back way, and wondered where to begin looking. Vlad had certainly teleported, and done so faster than Savn had thought possible. How long had it taken? In fact, he didn’t know; everything had happened so fast. But it was certainly much quicker than it had before.
What was it he had said? Something about if you were in a hurry ... Yes, it was about setting up a place to tele-port to, which could be anywhere; there was no way to know—
He suddenly remembered his first sight of the Easterner, standing next to the Curving Stone, making lines on the ground with a dagger.
But he had said that was witchcraft.
But he was certainly capable of lying.
Savn began running down the Manor Road, convinced he knew where Vlad was. As he ran, he realized that he had no idea why he was going to all of this trouble, and he wondered, too, about the heavy sack in his hand, which was making running so tiring as it bumped against his hip. He shifted it to his other hand and slung it over his shoulder as he reached the top of the hill and started down the long, bending road that lead to the Curving Stone.
Why am I doing this? he wondered, and the answer came as quickly as he’d formed the question.
If he ignored Vlad, he’d never learn anything more, and what he’d learned felt like a door that had opened just enough to let him see that on the other side was a place he desperately wanted to visit, maybe even to live. And he knew he would always berate himself for cowardice if he let himself be driven away from the Easterner.
He could try to sneak around, and still spend time with Vlad without being seen, but that didn’t feel right either, and he suspected that he wasn’t much good at sneaking around. And to be found out would be worse than being openly seen with him.
But if he continued associating with the Easterner, how would he continue to live here? There wouldn’t always be friendly jhereg to—
He shook his head, shying away from wondering how it had happened that, just when he faced being beaten by his friends, out of nowhere there came ... No. He didn’t want to think about it, not yet.
And so, naturally, it was just then that he noticed a rustling in the trees overhead, and, yes, of course there were two jhereg, arrogantly sitting in the branches, almost as if they were watching him. He stopped abruptly and stared back at them.
They were the same size and color as the two he had seen—when was it? He’d been walking with Polyi, and then he’d gone to Master Wag’s, which was the day Dame Sullen’s arm had been broken, so that would be ...
The same day Vlad had shown up.
They were the same two, of course; it was silly to try to deny it. The same two who had rescued him, and who had rescued Vlad, and who he’d been seeing, again and again, since Vlad had appeared. Maybe it had even been one of them that had been sitting on the roof of Tern’s house, listening in on everything that was said.
He tore his gaze away and covered the remaining twenty or thirty feet to the Curving Stone, breathing hard, and looked for traces of blood on the ground. He found them right where he expected; large red splotches.
Where had the Easterner gone? He tried to find a trail of blood, but there didn’t seem to be one.
He turned back to the jhereg, who were still watching him. If he spoke to them, could they understand him? Of course not. He frowned.
“Well?” he said aloud. “What do you want? Why are you following me?” He swallowed, hearing the echo of strain in his own voice. In the back of his head he heard Master Wag talking about hysteria. The jhereg stared back at him impassively. He shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened his eyes again. He spoke again, this time slowly and carefully. “I’ve brought food for him. Where is he?”
The smaller of the two jhereg spread its wings, then refolded them, looking hesitant. When folded and seen from the side, each wing formed an almost perfect triangle, as if nature had intended to give the beast a shield against the arrows of men. Yet seen from the front, it looked like there was a snake’s head bobbing up and down between the walls of two houses that had been built too close together.
It spread its wings again, and this time left its perch. It dropped just a little until it caught the air, and then rose quickly and flew over Savn’s head. Its mate followed it, and Savn turned to watch them fly.
They made a high circle, climbing until he thought they were going to vanish into the overcast; then they flew back down so quickly he thought they were about to attack him, but they landed some distance away. He could barely see them through the trees—about forty feet from the road.
Savn plunged into the thicket after them. Just below the tree in which they rested he almost tripped over the Easterner’s sword; no doubt Vlad had dropped it as he’d stumbled along. He picked it up by the hilt, noticing that the blade was still stained with blood. He wondered what it was like to hit someone with it. His musings were interrupted by a hiss from one of the jhereg. He jumped, startled. They were, apparently, impatient for him to find Vlad.
Very well, then. He looked further ahead, and at once saw a dark object, not far away at all, that looked like it didn’t belong. A few steps closer and he realized that it was the bottom of Vlad’s boot, toe pointed toward the sky.
Savn knew, even before he reached Vlad, that the Easterner was alive, because his breathing was obvious—quick and shallow. Breathing like that meant something, he knew, but he couldn’t remember what. Or maybe there were several things’ it could mean. Was it blood loss? It wasn’t a concussion, he was sure of that. It occurred to Savn that one of Vlad’s lungs might have been punctured, in which case he’d be unable to do anything except watch the Easterner die.
Savn came up next to him, knelt down, and studied his face, seeing at once that his skin had an odd grey tint and that his lips were blue, and, in fact, so were his eyelids and ear lobes. The colors meant something; he was sure of it. Savn shook his head and thought, He’s dying.
And so he seemed to be. Not only did his lung appear punctured, but it looked like his neck had been broken—the veins and the windpipe stuck out horribly from the throat, and at a funny angle, down toward the Easterner’s left side.
He was muttering as well, but only incoherent sounds, grunts and squeaks, as if his ability to make words were gone. His arms and torso were moving weakly, and without any apparent purpose. A terrible sorrow filled Savn—he was convinced that Master Wag would be able to heal him, punctured lung and broken neck or not, but Savn himself just didn’t know enough. If Master Wag were here, he’d ...