Todichi fluted a few shapeless sounds, fidgeted from foot to foot. “I will work quickly. And you, my friend, you take care, don’t spend yourself to feed your curiosity, come back and rest, eat, sleep.”
Maksim smiled, squeezed Todichi’s meager gray-furred shoulder with gentle affection, snapped to his subteranean workroom.
Danny Blue yawned, smiled across the fire at Brann. This night was much darker than the last, clouds were piling up overhead, wind that was heavy with water lifted and fell, lifted and fell, there was a sharp nip in the air, a threat of frost come the morning. She was seen and unseen, face and hands shining red-gold when the dying flames flared, slipping into shadow again when they dropped. Made irritable by the electricity from the oncoming storm, the changers were out in the dark somewhere, male and female mountain cats chasing each other, working off an excess of energy as they ran sentry rounds about the camp. “He doesn’t seem to care that we’re in the Plain.”
Her knees were drawn up, her forearms rested on them, she held a mug of tea with both hands and was sitting looking down at it, her face empty of expression as if her thoughts were so far away there was no one left behind the mask. When he spoke, she lifted her head, gazed thoughtfully at him. “Is that what you think?”
“Me? Think? Who am Ito think?”
She, gave him a slow smile. “Ahzurdan I think, hmm?”
“Ahzurdan is dead. Daniel Akamarino is dead. I’m Azure Dan the magic man, Danny Blue the New. Three weeks old, alive and kicking, umbilical intact, chain umbilical welded in place, no surgeon’s knife for me; the Chained God jerks and I dance, don’t I dance a pretty dance?”
“A personal, intrusive god isn’t so attractive now, /limn?”
“It’s like trying to reason with a tornado, you might come out of the experience alive but never intact. And whenever you try, you don’t make a dent in the wind.”
She smiled, a slow musing smile that irritated him because it seemed to say I have, I have dented a god more than once, Danny Blue, when you talk about wind, whose wind do you mean? She said nothing, looked at her mug with a touch of surprise as if she’d forgotten she was holding it. She sipped at the cooling tea and gazed into the puzzle play of red and black across the coals of the little fire. She was strong, serene, contented with who and what she was, she had already won her battle with the god, she’d got what she wanted out of him, freedom for herself and the changers, all she was doing now was paying off that debt; anger flashed through him, a bitter anger that wanted to see her bruised, bleeding, weeping, groveling at his feet; part of him was appalled by the vision, part of him reveled in it, all of him wanted to break the surface of her somehow and get at whatever it was that lay beneath the mask. “Sleep with me tonight.”
“I smell like a wet mule.”
“Who doesn’t. What you mean is not before the children.”
“What I mean is, what you see is what you get.”
“If I didn’t want it, would I ask for it?”
“Would you?”
“You keep your hands off my soul and I’ll keep mine off yours, it’s your body I want.”
She smiled, slid her eyes over him. “It’s a point. Why not.”
“A little enthusiasm might help.”
“A little more Akamarino in the mix might help.”
“I thought you didn’t like him much.”
“I liked his hands, not his mouth, rather what came out his mouth.”
“Akamarino is dead.”
“You said that.”
“You don’t seem to believe it.”
“I do, Dan. I don’t like thinking about it, I…” Her mouth twisted. “Why not. No doubt the god knows quite well how I feel. Somehow I’m going to make it hurt for that, Dan. I don’t know how right now and I wouldn’t tell you if I did. You intend to keep talking?”
Maksim lay stretched out in his tiltchair, watching the mirror, listening to the conversation. His hair hung loose about his shoulders, the sleeveless workrobe was pulled carelessly about him, a fold of it tucked between BinYAHtii and his skin, his legs were crossed at the ankles and his fingers laced loosely across his stomach. The chair was set parallel to the table so he could reach out and touch the mirror if he wished. For the past several days he’d been snatching scarce moments between conferences to watch what was happening in the mountains and the Forkker Vale, puzzled for a while by the male figure who rode with Brann and the changers. The mirror followed him as if he were Ahzurdan, yet he was not, he was at least a span taller, he was broader in the shoulders, his face was different, though there were hints of Ahzurdan in it as if this man might have been one of his half-brothers. Several times Maksim had focused the mirror on his face, but he couldn’t get it clear, the lines blurred and wavered, the closer he got the less he could see, though he could hear most of what the man said. That blurring was something he associated with Daniel Akamarino when he joined Brann and Ahzurdan in Silagamatys. By the time they reached the Vale Maksim had an idea what the Chained God had done, though he couldn’t wholly accept where his logic led him, it seemed so unlikely and he couldn’t dredge up a reason for doing it, but listening to this hybrid Danny Blue, announce the deaths of the men that made him, he had no choice, he had to believe it. Why was it done? What did it mean? He brooded over those questions as he watched Danny Blue get to his feet, move round the fire to join Brann on her blankets. There was that odd and effective weapon Daniel had brought with him from his reality. I’ll have to get that away from him somehow before they get here. He watched the maneuverings that combined caresses with the shedding of clothing and decided that trousers were a nuisance he was pleased to have avoided most of his life. The vest went. It’s in there, in one of those pockets. He leaned over, tried to focus the mirror on the vest but the blurring was worse than with the man. They’re close enough, maybe I can… He reached for the vest and tried to snap it to him. He couldn’t get a grip on it. He hissed with annoyance and returned the mirror to its former overlook. They’ll be on the Plain early tomorrow, he thought, what do I do about that? I think I leave it to T’Thelo and whatever he contrives. Ha! Look at that, oh, Baby Dan, you’re not so dead after all, I know your little ways, oh yes I do…”
“Dan, I’m here too.” When he didn’t bother listening to her, she pushed his hand off her breast and started wriggling away from him.
He caught one of her wrists, pinned it to the ground beside her shoulder, slapped her face lightly to let her know who was in charge. He grinned at her when she relaxed, laughed in triumph when she stroked his face with her free hand. That was the last thing he saw or felt.
When he woke, his head was wet, there were jagged pebbles and twigs poking him in tender places, a damp blanket was thrown over him. Brann dropped the depleted waterskin beside him and stalked off. She was dressed, her hair was combed and she looked furious but calm. She sat down on the blanket she’d moved across the fire from him and watched him as he chased the fog from his head.
“I was raped once,” she said. “Once. I wasn’t quite twelve at the time, I was tired, sleeping, I didn’t know what was happening to me but I wanted it to stop, so I stopped it. I got a lot more than an ounce of jism from that man, Dan, something you should remember. The kids dumped his body in the river for me. Ahzurdan, if you’re in there somewhere, you also should remember what happened to your grandfather when he decided it was a good idea to slap me around. Do you know why you’re alive? Don’t bother answering, I’m going to tell you. I pay my debts. When I say I’ll do something, I do it. Damn you, Dan, that’s the second time you’ve got me wound up and left me hanging. Believe me, there won’t be a third time. I’m a Drinker of Souls, Danny Blue, get funny with me and you’ll ride to Silagamatys in a vegetable dream.”
Maksim smiled as he watched Danny Blue sleep; the hybrid twitched at intervals; at intervals he moved his lips and made small sucking sounds like a hungry baby. Across the dead fire, Brann was in her blankets, sleeping on her side, knees drawn up, arms curled loosely about them, her pillow the waterskin, newly plumped out from the river nearby; now and then there was a small catch in her breath not quite a snore and she was scowling as if no matter how deeply she slept she took her anger with her. “I like you, Drinker of Souls, Forty Mortal Hells, I do, but I wish you smudged your honor some and let Baby Dan chase you off. AAAh! I owe him a favor, a favor for a lesson, no no, more than a lesson, it’s a warning. You don’t get within armlength of me, Brann, you or your changeling children.”