Chapter 12
*
Liara left that evening, without telling her Yearmates, or, indeed, anyone but the King, the Queen, and the Dean. They did not want news of her departure leaking out to any Karsite spies.
It took ten days to reach the Karsite border, and Liara and Deilan waited until nightfall to slip over the border. It would take another week to reach their goal.
Any invasion would start from the capital, where the main army camps were, so that was a good place to start her spying.
*
Liara dismounted, and untacked Deilan, shoving the plain, old saddle under some brambles. She took from the saddlebags one plain, patched leather carry-bag, and a bundle of red cloth. She pulled off the black leather riding clothes and unfolded the red woolen dress, wrinkling her nose at the rank odour as she pulled it over her head.
That done, she loosened her neat coronet of braids, replaiting it untidily. For shoes she wore sandals of aged, scuffed leather, and she swung the carryall over her back.
"Shoo, love." She said to Deilan. "I go alone from here. And watch out - rumours say that demons patrol the camps." Deilan nuzzled her lovingly before trotting swiftly away into the thicker woods.
Liara checked herself over. The disguise was good. The red dress was old and faded, as well as being artistically ripped, and studiously unwashed. Liara, also, had refrained from bathing in recent times, so she, too, looked unremarkable. Liara carefully hiked up the skirt to display an expanse of leg, and pulled down the bodice as well. Now there was just one more peice to her disguise.
Liara pulled a dagger from its place of concealment inside the lining of her dress, and struck herself squarely on one cheek. Soldiers were notoriously ungentle with their girls, and with this bruise, Liara was just another camp follower.
The soldiers had often beguiled attractive young women to come with them to the army camps, telling them of all the food they could eat, and gold and jewels beyond imagining. What they got when they arrived at the army camps was a ripped tent to share with other misled women, enough food to keep a rat alive, and the job of warming the bed of any soldier who wanted it.
Liara knew that she could avoid this last with a judiscious use of mind magic, but the other two she would have to accept. No one noticed another whore in an army camp, and so she could gather vital information and still stay relatively unseen.
Aparrently another regiment had arrived only an hour or to ago, escorting some girls and some taxes from some other city. The timing was perfect for Liara, and she drifted into one of the outlying camps.
*
She hurried from the tent as the council broke up, and she found a place of concealment.
:Deilan? Support me, will you?: At the Companion's affirmative, she reached out with her Farspeech, and tried to contact Dean Gareth's mind.
:Liara?: He had caught her questing tendril of thought, and prepared to hear her report.
:The army advances in two weeks. They'll come, a huge army, up the South Trade Road. But don't send in the army! They will take ground and fight battles, and thoroughly distract you, and then, a week later, another army, twice the size, is going to slip through White Foal Pass and attack from behind.:
:A week? But Liara, without the army in place, they'll take a lot of ground.:
:Let them! You can win it back after the first army retreats.:
:We'll discuss it.: Gareth promised her. :Now, get out of there. The army will start moving right away, if they have to be here in two weeks.:
Gareth sensed a wash of releif as Liara spoke again. :I'm coming now.:
Liara broke the bond and moved carefully out from between the tents. She straigtened up as she got into the open, but saw, to her horror, someone watching her.
He was wearing the blood-red robes of a Voice of Vkandis, and he walked to stand in front of her.
"Well, well." He said softly, a gloating menace in his voice. Liara reached for dagger, but suddenly she found herself immobile. "What's a whore doing here, hiding behind a tent?"
Liara struggled, but to her panic found that she could not move at all. The Voice grabbed her hair and pulled her head back, so Liara had no choice but to look into his eyes. Liara could not supress a flash of enraged recognition as she stared at him. This was Brecke.
Brecke, the wandering witch hunter who had killed her parents, and tried to kill her. Her left hand spasmed as she remembered his sword, polluted like his mind, sliding through it.
"And if it isn't my old friend," Brecke's voice was mocking. "The demon- witch. Well, you may have beaten me last time, demon, but now Vkandis has made me strong!" Liara saw the glaring flame of insanity in his eyes, and she shuddered. "Guards!" Soldiers turned to stare at the tableu. "Have this demon apprehended, and taken before the council of Voices."
*
"She was rescued by one of the Valdemaran horse-demons," Brecke finished. "Perhaps she might be able to share with us some information."
Liara was still fighting against the invisible bonds that held her mind from calling, but when she heard this, she felt sickened.
"I see she is not struggling." Commented someone in a satisfied tone.
"The talisman you provided me with worked splendidly, honoured one." Brecke replied, bowing.
Bowing? But Brecke was a Voice now - who did he need to bow to?
The newcomer entered through the back of the tent, and Liara saw that he was wearing golden robes; it was the Son of the Sun!
"Vkandis has given me great power." The Son of the Sun said. "I can only hope that this God-given gift will allow me to help in the destruction of these demons."
God-given power? Liara would have snorted. There were no Gods. This Son of the Sun must have mage-gift - one of the 'demon' powers he wished to destroy.
"You may take her to the interrogation tent." The Sun of the Sun replied. "And we leave at once, so the - ah - equipment - should be transfered to a wagon. We should get all the information from her that we can."
*
Liara sat in a wash of pain, but she was posessed of one purpose. She would never talk to them.
"Still won't say anything, demon?" That was Brecke - he often visited, seeming to take a macabre pleasure in her torture. "Well, maybe I can help."
Liara stared at him, not grasping what he meant. Then a trendril of thought, like befouled, mouldy water drove implacably into her mind, and she whimpered in pain.
Can't let him see what I know, can't let let him see. If Brecke knew that she had let Valdemar know the battle plans, the plans would change, and Valdemar could fall.
She slapped up shields, dropping the barriers around her mind in order to hide her knowledge.
"Still being stubborn, demon?" sneered Brecke. "Well, I can see all your thoughts . . . and I can make you see them, too."
With that, he hauled the memories out from their coffin, and let them blaze through her mind.
Screams, screams ripping the air, and pain, pain, pain, pain . . .
One thing Liara would never do was let Brecke have the satisfaction of hearing her scream as the pain of the murdered villages tore through her mind. She bit her lip as she struggled to push away the thoughts, until her teeth met through the flesh. The pain felt good, somehow. And Liara knew dimly that she had deteriorated from the healing she had gained.
But now that the pain was back, she couldn't even remember why she had tried to get rid of it. She deserved the pain, and she deserved to die. She could never escape that.
Her mind was smothered, drowning in a sea of foul, mouldy water. Liara slipped away from the blinding, painful daylight, and danced into the dark.
*
"Demon-bitch." said Brecke to himself, glaring at the limp body. "She's dead. Now we won't find out the battle plans." He summoned the torturer back in from the other part of the wagon.
"What shall I do, honoured one?" asked the man nervously. He did not wish to tell the Voices that their prisoner had died.
"Throw her off the wagon." Shrugged Brecke as he left. "This army doesn't need to carry corpses."
*
The army had moved far away before Deilan arived. He pushed at Liara with his nose, but there was no response. Deilan was worried. Liara was not - quite - dead, but she needed a healer very soon.
Deilan concentrated, using all the means at his command to knot the girl's fingers into his mane, and lift her onto his back.
The army were nearly at the Valdemaran border; he would have to hurry.
*
Liara left that evening, without telling her Yearmates, or, indeed, anyone but the King, the Queen, and the Dean. They did not want news of her departure leaking out to any Karsite spies.
It took ten days to reach the Karsite border, and Liara and Deilan waited until nightfall to slip over the border. It would take another week to reach their goal.
Any invasion would start from the capital, where the main army camps were, so that was a good place to start her spying.
*
Liara dismounted, and untacked Deilan, shoving the plain, old saddle under some brambles. She took from the saddlebags one plain, patched leather carry-bag, and a bundle of red cloth. She pulled off the black leather riding clothes and unfolded the red woolen dress, wrinkling her nose at the rank odour as she pulled it over her head.
That done, she loosened her neat coronet of braids, replaiting it untidily. For shoes she wore sandals of aged, scuffed leather, and she swung the carryall over her back.
"Shoo, love." She said to Deilan. "I go alone from here. And watch out - rumours say that demons patrol the camps." Deilan nuzzled her lovingly before trotting swiftly away into the thicker woods.
Liara checked herself over. The disguise was good. The red dress was old and faded, as well as being artistically ripped, and studiously unwashed. Liara, also, had refrained from bathing in recent times, so she, too, looked unremarkable. Liara carefully hiked up the skirt to display an expanse of leg, and pulled down the bodice as well. Now there was just one more peice to her disguise.
Liara pulled a dagger from its place of concealment inside the lining of her dress, and struck herself squarely on one cheek. Soldiers were notoriously ungentle with their girls, and with this bruise, Liara was just another camp follower.
The soldiers had often beguiled attractive young women to come with them to the army camps, telling them of all the food they could eat, and gold and jewels beyond imagining. What they got when they arrived at the army camps was a ripped tent to share with other misled women, enough food to keep a rat alive, and the job of warming the bed of any soldier who wanted it.
Liara knew that she could avoid this last with a judiscious use of mind magic, but the other two she would have to accept. No one noticed another whore in an army camp, and so she could gather vital information and still stay relatively unseen.
Aparrently another regiment had arrived only an hour or to ago, escorting some girls and some taxes from some other city. The timing was perfect for Liara, and she drifted into one of the outlying camps.
*
She hurried from the tent as the council broke up, and she found a place of concealment.
:Deilan? Support me, will you?: At the Companion's affirmative, she reached out with her Farspeech, and tried to contact Dean Gareth's mind.
:Liara?: He had caught her questing tendril of thought, and prepared to hear her report.
:The army advances in two weeks. They'll come, a huge army, up the South Trade Road. But don't send in the army! They will take ground and fight battles, and thoroughly distract you, and then, a week later, another army, twice the size, is going to slip through White Foal Pass and attack from behind.:
:A week? But Liara, without the army in place, they'll take a lot of ground.:
:Let them! You can win it back after the first army retreats.:
:We'll discuss it.: Gareth promised her. :Now, get out of there. The army will start moving right away, if they have to be here in two weeks.:
Gareth sensed a wash of releif as Liara spoke again. :I'm coming now.:
Liara broke the bond and moved carefully out from between the tents. She straigtened up as she got into the open, but saw, to her horror, someone watching her.
He was wearing the blood-red robes of a Voice of Vkandis, and he walked to stand in front of her.
"Well, well." He said softly, a gloating menace in his voice. Liara reached for dagger, but suddenly she found herself immobile. "What's a whore doing here, hiding behind a tent?"
Liara struggled, but to her panic found that she could not move at all. The Voice grabbed her hair and pulled her head back, so Liara had no choice but to look into his eyes. Liara could not supress a flash of enraged recognition as she stared at him. This was Brecke.
Brecke, the wandering witch hunter who had killed her parents, and tried to kill her. Her left hand spasmed as she remembered his sword, polluted like his mind, sliding through it.
"And if it isn't my old friend," Brecke's voice was mocking. "The demon- witch. Well, you may have beaten me last time, demon, but now Vkandis has made me strong!" Liara saw the glaring flame of insanity in his eyes, and she shuddered. "Guards!" Soldiers turned to stare at the tableu. "Have this demon apprehended, and taken before the council of Voices."
*
"She was rescued by one of the Valdemaran horse-demons," Brecke finished. "Perhaps she might be able to share with us some information."
Liara was still fighting against the invisible bonds that held her mind from calling, but when she heard this, she felt sickened.
"I see she is not struggling." Commented someone in a satisfied tone.
"The talisman you provided me with worked splendidly, honoured one." Brecke replied, bowing.
Bowing? But Brecke was a Voice now - who did he need to bow to?
The newcomer entered through the back of the tent, and Liara saw that he was wearing golden robes; it was the Son of the Sun!
"Vkandis has given me great power." The Son of the Sun said. "I can only hope that this God-given gift will allow me to help in the destruction of these demons."
God-given power? Liara would have snorted. There were no Gods. This Son of the Sun must have mage-gift - one of the 'demon' powers he wished to destroy.
"You may take her to the interrogation tent." The Sun of the Sun replied. "And we leave at once, so the - ah - equipment - should be transfered to a wagon. We should get all the information from her that we can."
*
Liara sat in a wash of pain, but she was posessed of one purpose. She would never talk to them.
"Still won't say anything, demon?" That was Brecke - he often visited, seeming to take a macabre pleasure in her torture. "Well, maybe I can help."
Liara stared at him, not grasping what he meant. Then a trendril of thought, like befouled, mouldy water drove implacably into her mind, and she whimpered in pain.
Can't let him see what I know, can't let let him see. If Brecke knew that she had let Valdemar know the battle plans, the plans would change, and Valdemar could fall.
She slapped up shields, dropping the barriers around her mind in order to hide her knowledge.
"Still being stubborn, demon?" sneered Brecke. "Well, I can see all your thoughts . . . and I can make you see them, too."
With that, he hauled the memories out from their coffin, and let them blaze through her mind.
Screams, screams ripping the air, and pain, pain, pain, pain . . .
One thing Liara would never do was let Brecke have the satisfaction of hearing her scream as the pain of the murdered villages tore through her mind. She bit her lip as she struggled to push away the thoughts, until her teeth met through the flesh. The pain felt good, somehow. And Liara knew dimly that she had deteriorated from the healing she had gained.
But now that the pain was back, she couldn't even remember why she had tried to get rid of it. She deserved the pain, and she deserved to die. She could never escape that.
Her mind was smothered, drowning in a sea of foul, mouldy water. Liara slipped away from the blinding, painful daylight, and danced into the dark.
*
"Demon-bitch." said Brecke to himself, glaring at the limp body. "She's dead. Now we won't find out the battle plans." He summoned the torturer back in from the other part of the wagon.
"What shall I do, honoured one?" asked the man nervously. He did not wish to tell the Voices that their prisoner had died.
"Throw her off the wagon." Shrugged Brecke as he left. "This army doesn't need to carry corpses."
*
The army had moved far away before Deilan arived. He pushed at Liara with his nose, but there was no response. Deilan was worried. Liara was not - quite - dead, but she needed a healer very soon.
Deilan concentrated, using all the means at his command to knot the girl's fingers into his mane, and lift her onto his back.
The army were nearly at the Valdemaran border; he would have to hurry.