“Hey, don’t leave us in the dark,” one of the men complained.
“Light another billet, then!” snapped Leemay. She unlatched the door in the end wall. Cashel motioned Tilphosa ahead of him—his body would shadow her if he was in front—and they followed along after the landlady.
Beyond the door was a storage room. Tuns of beer stood along one wall, and lesser items in crates and storage jars were stacked on the other. The aisle between was a tight squeeze for Cashel. He frowned, then realized that Soong was so low-lying that the buildings couldn’t have cellars the way Reise’s inn did back in Barca’s Hamlet.
Leemay opened the door at the far end, then lit the candle in a wall bracket just inside. She gestured Tilphosa through, saying, “There you go, missy. If it suits your ladyship’s tastes, I mean.”
Tilphosa glanced up at the landlady’s renewed hostility, but she didn’t rise to the bait. Tilphosa’d seen men killed now, and she was smart enough to understand that she might’ve seen more die because she’d flown hot at Leemay.
“Thank you, mistress,” she said as she entered. “This will be very satisfactory.”
Cashel glanced past the landlady and agreed beyond a doubt. The wooden bed frame was big enough for three people Cashel’s size, with pillows and at least two feather beds as well as the straw mattress. Tilphosa tested the softness with a hand, less in doubt than as an acknowledgment of the fine bedding.
“Sleep well, then,” Leemay said. She started back. Cashel turned sideways and thumped his staff in front of him so it was what the landlady had to squeeze by.
She did that, giving a throaty chuckle as she passed. Cashel didn’t hear much humor in the sound, though.
Cashel waited till the door to the common room had closed, then said, “Give me one of those comforters, will you, Tilphosa? Ah, unless you need them both?”
“No, of course not,” the girl said. Her face was unreadable. “What do you intend to do, Cashel?”
“I’m going to lie down in the doorway here,” he said, nodding. “We’ll leave it open, but I don’t guess anybody’s going to get to you without me waking up. Just in case.”
“But the floor’s hard,” Tilphosa said.
He laughed. “Every night I wasn’t out in the pasture back home, I slept on the floor of the mill,” he said. “That was stone. Don’t worry about me, miss—Tilphosa, that is.”
She turned her head away. Cashel spread the feather bed on the floor. He’d lie at an angle with his head out in the storage room and his legs slanted past the foot of the bedframe. Now, should he pinch out the candle or—
“Cashel?” Tilphosa said, still looking away. “I don’t have any claim on you, you realize. If you did want to see that woman tonight…?”
“Huh?” said Cashel. He thought hard, trying to fit the girl’s words together in a fashion that made sense. “Sleep with Leemay? Duzi, mistress! What do you take me for?”
“I’m sorry,” Tilphosa said, though she sounded more relieved than apologetic. “Ah, let’s get some sleep.”
She turned quickly and blew out the candle. Cashel heard the bedclothes rustle as she pulled them over herself.
“Right,” he said, settling into his bed as well.
He didn’t have any trouble getting to sleep, but he had bad dreams during the night. He kept hearing someone chanting, and Leemay’s face hovered over him like a gibbous moon.
Ilna dreamed that she stood on a hilltop as a storm howled about her. Thunderbolts struck close, filling the air with a sulfurous stench. She felt the wind tug her legs and knew that in a moment it would carry her away, rending her apart in the lightning-shot darkness. She opened her mouth to scream but her swollen throat wouldn’t allow sounds to pass.
Something flung her violently. She didn’t know where she was. There was rock all around her. Moonlight through a transom showed her sharp angles and something thrashing, but her eyes wouldn’t focus, and she couldn’t get her breath.
Alecto was shouting. She jerked the crossbar out of the staples holding it and shoved the temple doors open to let in more light. Ilna sucked gulps of the fresh, cool air that flooded in with it. Her throat relaxed, and she could see clearly again.
A creature half out of the cave twisted and flailed four legs that seemed too small for a body the size of a cow’s. It slammed the temple walls in its convulsions. Besides the eyes bulging on either side of its huge blunt skull, it had a third orb in the center. The hilt of Alecto’s dagger stood up from that middle socket.
Ilna pulled herself onto the temple porch with her hands and elbows, dragging her legs behind her. She had a burning sensation in her right calf, though she thought she’d be able to stand in a moment when the dizziness passed.
People were coming out of the houses scattered along the valley slope. Somebody in each group carried a torch or a rushlight, a pithy stem soaked in grease to burn with a pale yellow flame.
They’ve been expecting this, Ilna thought. They wouldn’t have been able to rouse so quickly at Alecto’s shout if they hadn’t been waiting for it.
She twisted her legs under and sat up, though she wasn’t yet ready to squat or stand. She brought the hank of cords out of her sleeve and began plaiting them. No pattern she wove in the light of torches and a partial moon would dispose of all those approaching, but you do what you can.
Alecto shouted, this time in surprise. She jumped out the doorway. An instant later the creature hurled itself onto the porch also, then rolled onto its side. Each of its legs and its thick tail twitched in a separate rhythm. The final lunge had been as mindless as the running of a headless chicken.
The local people’s approach had slowed. Ilna took the time to view the monster instead of just reacting to its presence. It was a lizard or—
She prodded the thick neck with one hand. The skin was slick and moist, that of a salamander rather than a lizard. The lolling jaws were edged with short, thornlike teeth.
Ilna rubbed her right leg, noticing now the line of punctures. Her fingers smeared the drops of blood welling from the holes. Her injuries wouldn’t be serious, though, unless the bite was poisoned.
Alecto poised as though steeling herself to snatch coins from a fire. She reached out, gripped the hilt of her dagger, and yanked back with enough strength to have lifted a millstone. The creature’s head jerked upward, then slammed against the limestone so hard that bones crunched. It slid a bit farther out so that its head hung off the porch.
“You shouted and woke me up,” Alecto said, breathing hard. She tore her eyes away from the quivering monster and scanned the villagers. They’d resumed their approach, though cautiously.
“I woke you up?” Ilna said. She was trying to remember what had happened before she crawled out into the air. She’d been dreaming, she knew, but she didn’t remember what the dream was.
“Yeah,” the wild girl said. “You were staring at it. The air stank so bad it made me dizzy, but I think the eye there in the middle was doing something to you too.”
She looked at her dagger; the blade was covered with translucent slime. She swore, and wiped it on her leather kilt, then hurled the garment away.
“Thank you,” Ilna said. She lurched to her feet; her right leg felt as though somebody was running a branding iron up and down the calf, but it held her. “For saving my life.”
Alecto grunted, her eyes now on the villagers. The priest, Arthlan, had waited till a group of his fellows reached his hut before starting toward the temple with them. The women and children were coming also, mixed in with the adult men. They whispered among themselves, but none of them called to the strangers.
The pain of Ilna’s leg subsided to a dull ache. She faced the torchlight coming toward her, expressionless. Alecto had saved her, yes; but the wild girl had waited to strike until the monster was locked onto Ilna’s leg and couldn’t turn its numbing gaze on her.