Night Season

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Tash straightened, shaking her head. "I can do nothing for him. No healer could—there's not enough mind left to heal. The only mercy I can offer is death."

Cynna's breath caught. "You won't, though. You won't just…"

Tash looked at Bilbo, who shook his head, "Is not deciding yet."

Tash, Bilbo, Cynna, and Cullen were in a crowded storeroom at the back of the inn. It stank of piss. A man—a human man—slumped on a huddle of blankets on a narrow cot, playing with his fingers. He didn't seem aware of his visitors. Every so often he whimpered. Once he giggled.

He had been good-looking in a brawny, rough-hewn way, Cynna thought. Now he was a bearded imbecile in a diaper.

"We can't keep him here," the innkeeper said through Cynna's charm. He kept wiping his hand on his apron—wanting to wipe Ms hands of the whole business, no doubt. "We've been waiting for an Ekiba to ride through so we could send out word, find his people. It's not our fault, what happened to him." He shook his head. "Not that I understand what happened. I can't believe what you say about Bell, though I guess… well, he did leave, but he always was something of a drifter."

According to the innkeeper and his wife, this man had arrived three weeks ago and paid for one night. When he didn't leave the next day, they checked on him and found him like this. Earlier they'd seen him talking to a kid, maybe seventeen, named Bell Hammond, who did odd jobs for them sometimes. Hammond had been a drifter, not a villager, but he'd lived here over a year. Suddenly he'd quit and left the village—hours before the innkeeper discovered his guest sitting on urine-wet sheets and counting his fingers.

"People don't drift into Ahk territory," Tash said, "unless they're idiots. You say Hammond was seen heading for the mountains?"

The innkeeper nodded unhappily. "I thought Derreck was wrong about that. Seemed like he had to be. Bell isn't all that bright, but he knows better than to enter Ahk land. Listen, you'll take this fellow with you, right? We can't keep him here."

Cynna backed out of the room, leaving Bilbo arguing with the innkeeper about whose responsibility the poor man was. If you could call what remained a man.

Cullen came with her. "Let's get some air."

She nodded. The stew she'd had for supper wasn't sitting well in a stomach turned raw by pity.

They didn't go far. The temperature had dropped, and icy pellets mixed with snow sifted through the frigid air. The porch was covered, though, and there was no wind; the cold, clean air did clear up her nausea.

Cynna stood at the porch rail watching the way white mingled with darkness in the wintry air. Cullen came up behind her. He'd let his mage light puff out, so the only light came from her own little ball of light.

"It occurs to me," he said softly, "that our thief didn't lose his mind until he lost the medallion."

He was right, The man had made it here, hadn't he? He'd seemed normal to the innkeeper until the next day… "The First Councilor said the medallion ate the mind of anyone it couldn't bond with. She didn't say the damage didn't happen until someone else got hold of it, but that's what it looks like."

"Maybe she didn't want us to think about grabbing it for ourselves."

Cynna shivered. "No temptation here. What I'm wondering is why this Bell Hammond would take it. How did he know it existed? The innkeeper never saw it. That poor man wouldn't have pulled it out to show the boy. Even if he did, Hammond shouldn't have known what it was."

Cullen shook his head. "We're missing something."

"A lot, I suspect." And her head was too thick to make sense of it tonight. Cynna sighed. "I need some sleep."

He moved up behind her, putting his arms around her. "In that damned crowded bed."

Turned out the beds were plenty big… big enough to hold three people apiece. More, if they were gnome-size people. Or that was the plan, since there were so few rooms. She and Cullen would be sharing with Steve. "Could be worse. We could have drawn Gan for a bunk-mate."

"Good point. I'm betting she's a bed hog. Ah… I'm not coming up with you yet. Tash has lost two guard and, while this inn is wonderfully comfortable compared to bare ground, it's not very defensible. Wen, Steve, and I offered to help with watches. I'm on first watch."

Cynna turned in the warm circle of his arms. Her mage light hovered near her shoulder, its glow falling softly over the beautiful contours of his face. Funny, she didn't always notice that anymore—how pulse-raisingly gorgeous he was. Mostly he just looked like Cullen to her. "I could take a watch."

"Pregnant women are excluded from guard duty."

She thought that over and decided it sounded right in principle. Applying it to herself wasn't easy, but… "I guess I won't complain about getting my full eight hours." Cullen slept eight hours only if he was healing. Otherwise, if he got in six hours, he thought he'd overslept.

The subtle ease in his features told Cynna he was relieved. He'd expected an argument. She tried to look severe. "You're telling me I'm going to be sleeping with Steve Timms for a couple hours."

His grin flashed. "You're safe. He made a point of telling me he's of the 'don't poach' school of thought."

"Poaching is for bunny rabbits. I am not a bunny rabbit."

"I know, but Steve's not the brightest bulb, socially. There is some good news—he's taking the last watch. So if you can make do with slightly less than eight hours, there will be a period when we have the bed to ourselves."

Oh. In that case… she ran a hand up his side. "How's your heart?"

He didn't answer for a moment, then said softly, "Better. It's definitely getting better."

Cynna stirred when the bed dipped. "Go back to sleep, luv," Cullen told her softly, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Steve's shift doesn't start for another four hours."

She did. She slept soundly, too, and was dreaming of a cat-faced woman who wanted to hump Cullen. Cynna was explaining to her that Cullen's penis was not shaped properly for feline intercourse when the door crashed open.

Cullen rolled to his feet on one side of the bed. Steve did the same on the other. An eight-foot tusked monster holding about six feet of drawn sword bellowed and surged through the doorway. Cynna, bogged down in the middle of the soft mattress, hadn't finished untangling herself from the quilts when Cullen flamed him.

His scream went on and on, mixing with other screams. His blackened body fell, blocking the door, as Cynna finally got her feet on the far side of the bed, next to Steve.

"Duck!" Steve cried—as a second monster replaced the first in the doorway.

Cullen ducked. Steve fired. The first shot seemed to startle the monster—its eyes widened, and it hesitated. The second shot hit right between those eyes.

"The window!" Cullen called, heaving one of the bodies away from the doorway. Maybe he hoped to block it if he could get the door shut.

Cynna spun, shoved open the shutter. "Shit! Two more climbing onto the roof of the porch. More—at least ten more on horseback—in the street below. Ahk," she added, her mind catching up with events. "They're Ahk."

A rumbling voice sounded behind her. Even as she whirled back to face the door, the charm was translating: "You fight bravely, but you are outnumbered twenty to one. Surrender, and we will spare all those still alive."

There was no one in the doorway. The speaker must have decided to lurk out of the line of fire.

Speaking of which, Cullen sent a jet of flame it through the doorway. "And we should take your word for that? Don't see why. I've got plenty more of this."

Rumble, rumble. The charm: "We do not kill you for that this time. You are new to Edge and do not know the Ahk. As for your tire… grieegwashabettama."

Or something like that. At the sound of the last words, the ones the charm didn't translate, the blackened corpse on the floor reached out and grabbed Cullen's ankle.

He yelped, seized the enormous sword dropped by one of the monsters, and swung it. Steve shot at someone outside the window.

Obviously this dude had a charm, too. Or else he'd learned English. He'd clearly understood Cullen. "What do you want?" Cynna called.

"You," the charm said, "if you are Cynna Weaver. We want you alive. We are willing to spare the others if you surrender now. I make this offer so you may choose life for them, if you wish."

Where were the others? The five remaining guard Tash, Gan, Bilbo, Wen—all dead? Her father? God, she'd just gotten him, please… please.

She heard fighting downstairs. But several of their party had been here, on this floor. Daniel Weaver had been here, where all was so very quiet… "Tell your men to stop advancing, and we'll talk."

Her charm translated the bass gibberish as "Why should I do that?"

"Because you don't want them to die unnecessarily. Just as I would rather my people didn't die without reason. If they keep coming before we have a deal, we'll keep killing them."

There was a pause, then he bellowed something that translated simply as "Hold!" and added in what passed for a normal voice, "You are in charge? The others will do as you say?"

"Well, the councilor thinks he is, but yes. I am." Cullen kept telling her that, anyway. She'd find out if he meant it.

"The gnome is dead."

Her breath caught. She looked at Cullen. What now? Without the gnome to take custody of the medallion, what was even possible? They could kill some of the Ahk, but not all. They were too few, and there was no cavalry riding to their rescue.

Cynna shivered, and blamed it on the cold. "Then I am in charge. Except that Tash worked for the gnome, and I don't know who she—"

"The one you call Tash is also dead. She fought with great honor for those to whom her bond was given."

Dead? Tash was dead? The shock of it sent clammy fingers over Cynna, opening up a numb, empty place like an unexpected wound. She hadn't thought of Tash as a friend, exactly, but…

"Others are still alive. One of the humans is unconscious but not badly hurt. I believe he is kin to you. This little ugly one is also alive. I am unsure what she is, but perhaps you want her to live. Speak, little one."

"Cynna Weaver?" Gan's voice, even higher and squeakier than usual, came from the hall. "I don't want to be dead. Maybe I don't have enough of a soul yet to still be if my body's dead, and besides, I like being alive. I really like it. You said you'd be sad if I got killed. Do what he says, okay? So I won't get killed."

Her breath whooshed out. Her eyes stung as she met Cullen's eyes. He shook his head once, but she didn't know what that meant. Don't let them kill Gan? Don't trust them? Don't bargain away all their lives?

"Do you surrender?" the charm whispered.

She hunted for her choices amid this ruin. The Ahk were warriors. Did they have a warrior's code of honor—their word was their bond and all that? Cynna had the impression they were brutal but honest. But so much depended on her choice…

Cullen held up something. A gem?

Not just any gem. The one the elf-woman gave him. The call-me. Cynna swallowed and concentrated on not hyperventilating. Calling that bitch might be a mistake, but if anyone could take on the ahk, it was the sidhe.

She nodded at Cullen and spoke loudly. "I have your word that everyone alive now will be spared if they stop fighting? No retribution?"

The rumble, and the charm: "Ahk do not take vengeance on those who fight with honor. Your people have fought honorably. You have my word."

"And you're in charge. The others will do as you say."

"They will."

She gave up.

Cullen disappeared.