Night Season

CHAPTER THIRTY

The Ahk were beyond hardy. They were machines, Cynna concluded, every muscle in her body protesting the need to stay in the saddle. Stupid, bloody, barbarian cyborgs.

It was Cynna's third solid "day" of riding up winding mountain trails, and the first when the snow hadn't stopped. Her poor horse wasn't happy, either. It had to be a bitch, climbing up this miserable excuse for a trail where the snow was several inches deep in places.

The mountain trail coincided with the one only she could sense. But she hadn't told her captors that. Chulak—the big son of a bitch who led them—had told her scornfully that he did not need her to tell him where an intruder had crossed Ahk land. He could follow that trail himself. She would be needed, he said, only after they left the mountains.

Before they'd reached those mountains, Wen had ridden off in the other direction. She still didn't know why he'd done it. Money or wealth of some sort, she gathered; Chulak had said something to him about his payment. But what payment could have made him betray so many? His own people would hunt him down if they found out. The Ekiba's wandering existence was possible because of their neutrality.

Maybe he hadn't seen it as betrayal. She'd learned that the Ekiba were the only exception to the "no outsiders" rule about Ahk land, and Wen had served as one of the Ekiba communicators in these mountains several years ago. He'd lived with them; maybe his loyalties had shifted.

Probably she'd never know. But she'd liked him, dammit. She'd liked him.

No one had died since they left the village, at least. Cynna reminded herself of that, hunting for something to lift her spirits from dead zero. And Cullen had gotten safely away, even if that hadn't been what he meant to do… and even if she wished fiercely that he were here with her. Stupid thing to wish, since the Ahk were determined to kill them all slowly, from exhaustion.

She flexed her fingers on the reins, trying to get some feeling back. They'd given her mittens, even a furry cloak with a hood, but the higher they climbed, the colder it got. Even Chicago wasn't this cold… though admittedly she'd never tried riding through that city on horseback for hours in the middle of snowstorm.

At least she was uninjured. Cynna gripped the horse's barrel as firmly as she could with her aching legs, and twisted to look behind her.

Through the snow she saw the dark horse of the Ahk behind her, the one riding double so he could support Daniel Weaver. Daniel had woken from his concussion soon after they left the village, but the damned Ahk wouldn't stop. Daniel had thrown up twice that first day and been unable to eat before the sleep period last night.

The next morning, though, the Ahk who doubled as healer had done something for him. His face was still the color of freshly churned slush on a city street, but he no longer threw up.

He smiled at her now, trying to reassure her. Cynna stretched her lips in the best smile she could manage, and faced front again.

Ahead of her was a horse's rump, partly covered by the fur cloak of the Ahk riding it. Not much of a view, no distraction at all when her mind wanted to cruise back over everything that had happened, dipping into horror like it was a loose tooth, picking at the places where she might have done things differently. As if that could change anything.

The horse's rump rounded a curve of rock and vanished.

That wasn't especially interesting, since she'd seen it happen dozens of times. This trail wound around like crazy. But a moment later her horse rounded that same curve, and she saw the cave ahead. It was deep, with a wide mouth and a fire. A big, blazing fire, and people were in it and getting off their bloody horses.

Her mount got excited, too. It picked up its weary head and moved a little quicker, eager for shelter and warmth. Moments later she was out of the snow and one of the Ahk caught her horse's halter. She swung her leg over… or tried to. Her muscles cramped and refused to obey. She bit her lip.

The warrior shook his head in disgust, reached up, and lifted her off. She promptly slid to the damp, rocky floor of the cave.

"Liniment," Cynna said, her eyes closed. And to her disgust, tears seeped out from under her eyelids as she thought about Cullen getting her that liniment, laughing at her for needing it, promising to rub it in for her…

"Humans are very puny," said her charm.

It was speaking for the Ahk leader. The Ahk were divided into clans, and Chulak—unlike most people in Edge, Ahk didn't keep their names secret—was the leader of his clan, only more like a combination of Rho and Rhej: the big boss and the high priest. She opened her eyes and glared at him. "You'd better take good care of this puny human or she'll die, and then what will you do?"

"You are not dying." He was indifferent.

"You'd better take care of the other humans, too. If my father dies—"

"You will refuse to find the medallion for me?" Chulak smiled, or gave his version of a smile. It looked pretty ghastly. His tusks were longer than Tash's had been. "I think not. You will wish the others to live. And yourself."

"Maybe. Or maybe I'll decide that the death of an entire realm would be a fitting memorial to him."

He hesitated just long enough to make her think he might buy it. "Get up. You are not injured, and you make yourself ridiculous and shame my niece's sacrifice."

"I liked your niece. I don't like you." As comebacks go, that one wasn't much, but it had the benefit of being true. Tash had been the niece of this overgrown bully of a religious zealot—unacknowledged because he wouldn't allow tainted blood into his clan, and Tash had been half human. Once she was safely dead and unable to reproduce, though, he claimed her. Bastard.

He'd already turned away to give other people orders. Steve approached. He walked stiffly, but unlike her, he'd stayed upright after dismounting. It made her feel like the weakling Chulak had named her. "I've got the liniment," he said, and held out a hand.

"Bless you." She took it and let him help her to her feet, not bothering to stifle her groan. Everything hurt. "Thanks. And that liniment would be where—?"

He reached inside his fur cloak and pulled out the green bottle. "Just give it back when you're through." He looked over his shoulder at Chulak, his narrow face tight with anger. "Unless you can figure a way to poison him with it."

"If it didn't kill him straight off, he'd probably decapitate someone to show his annoyance."

"Sooner or later," Steve said, staring at the big Ahk. "Sooner or later, we'll get a chance."

He meant it, which worried her. Trying to kill Chulak was a short route to having all your questions about the afterlife answered.

This cave was apparently a planned stop, or maybe one they used regularly. They had hay and oats stored here for the horses and dried food and water for the people. There were skins of the thin, sour wine the Ahk liked, too, but Cynna was avoiding alcohol, so she stuck with the water.

The horses were lined up around the front of the cave, where their bodies blocked the wind and their body heat contributed to the warmth of the fire, making it almost comfortable inside.

Cynna had discarded modesty almost as thoroughly as a lupus. She simply found a shadowy corner where she could partially strip and, shivering, rub in the liniment. It burned worse than Ben Gay at first, but subsided to a gentle heat that helped. After she pulled her clothes back on, she did some stretches while the Ahk tended the horses. They were big on caring for their horses before anything else.

Two of them had gone back into the storm with short shovels; before the last horse was lovingly rubbed down, the captives were escorted, one at a time, to the freshly dug latrine pit.

Cynna went first because of her supposed status as their leader. She didn't object. The guys could stop along the trail and empty their bladders if they had to without slowing everyone down—or treating the entire company to a view of their freezing backsides.

When she returned, she took her rations to the side of the cave designated for her party and sat. She was too tired to be hungry, but she chewed the jerky and journey-cake methodically, washing down each bite with water, knowing she needed the fuel. So did the little rider.

That made her tired eyes water again, dammit. She thought of Cullen and how much the baby meant to him.

Gan came back from the latrine next and ate in grim, hasty silence. Sure enough, she hadn't quite stuffed the last bite in when Chulak called her. The Ahk had decided Gan would do for a servant—or slave—and had been giving her chores at every stop. Cynna had protested, but Chulak was, as usual, massively indifferent. The little one was strong and hardy, he said, unlike the humans; she could do her share of the work.

Her share included anything the Ahk didn't want to do—encouraged by a kick or blow if she balked.

Daniel came back next and settled beside Cynna. He looked ill, but smiled at her. She wanted to tell him to quit doing that. She knew he hurt. "Eat," she said instead, handing him one of the journeycakes.

He looked at it and sighed, but dutifully broke off a piece and put it in his mouth.

Moments later, Steve joined them. "And to think I used to like mountains," he said glumly, ripping a bite off his jerky with his teeth. "Rock climbing, anyway."

"You do the pitons and belaying and all that?" Cynna asked. He nodded, his mouth full. "Well, there's just one mountain left, and we're on it." She finished the last of her journeycake and eyed the jerky. It was her least favorite component of the meal. Oh, well. She popped it in and started chewing.

"You memorized the maps that well?"

Cynna shook her head, chewed some more, and finally swallowed. "I'm a Finder, remember? If I can Find mountains, I can Find not-mountains. I think we'll be off this one sometime tomorrow."

"I didn't know you could Find something as general as mountains, much less not-mountains."

"Most Finders can't." Finding the generic rather than the specific involved doing multiple Finds simultaneously—not easy, but she hadn't had much else to do other than avoid falling off her horse. She flashed him a grin, only a trifle forced. "I'm good."

"More to the point, maybe, is where will we be when we come down from the mountains?" Daniel said. "I know Edge geography generally, but not with the kind of specificity that can tell me where I am now. Other than in Ahk territory, obviously."

"That, I can't tell you. Not for sure. But I think we'll come out in Leerahan, maybe close to where it butts into Rohen."

No one said a word, but they all exchanged glances. Leerahan was one of the big sidhe estates. Rohen was another. Rohen was also where Cullen had gone, snatched up by what he'd thought was a communication charm. Or so they assumed. All they really knew was that he'd vanished.

It was possible, just possible, that he'd persuade the Rohen liege… what was her name? Theil. That he'd persuade Theil to come to their rescue. Even if he did, the sidhe would have to find them, and if they did, they'd probably insist that Cynna Find the medallion for them.

Better them, though, than Chulak. Better anyone than Chulak. Edge would be in deep shit if he managed to form a bond with the thing and started remaking the realm to suit him.

Cynna realized she was feeling less exhausted. Almost alert. "You think there's some drug in these journey-cakes? Or maybe some kind of recuperative magic?"

"They sure taste nasty enough to be good for you." Steve had finished eating. He pulled out the deck of cards Cynna had long since ceded to him, and began shuffling.

Gan looked over from where she was scooping up horse shit and glared. Cynna hid her smile. "Better not start the poker game until Gan can join us. Should be soon. They're moving into their worship circle." Every night the Ahk sat in a circle and chanted. Cynna had listened in, of course, but the charm didn't translate most of the words. Still, it was obviously a religious ritual.

"Okay if I join you for a few hands tonight?" Daniel asked.

Cynna looked at her father. She was getting used to thinking of him that way—my father. He had some color in his face for once, maybe the result of the journeycakes. "Sure. But, um, if you're feeling up to it, I have some questions."

He studied his hands for a moment, then sighed. "I don't have many answers, but you're welcome to what I do know."

"What do you know about the Ahk religion? Chulak wants to remake Edge in his god's image or something. That's why he wants the medallion. I figure. I ought to know more about this deity of his."

Daniel glanced over at the Ahk. He spoke softly. "They aren't interested in converts, but from what I can tell, Hrvash of the Ninety Names—that's what they're chanting now, his names—is a lot like the Ahk themselves. Hard, even brutal, but strictly honorable within the framework they understand. I, ah… I'd say Chulak is not a typical priest." He lowered his voice even more. "More of a fundamentalist. Extremely devout, wants his people to return to the old ways, which he considers the basis of all honor."

Great. "We have problems with that type back home, too. A lot of them live in the Mideast, but some—oh, never mind. I'm so tired my brain's derailing. The main thing I want to know is, what is ashwa?"

Daniel's eyebrows lifted. "Where did you hear that word?"

"I heard it, that's all. What does it mean?"

His gaze flicked quickly to Steve and back. He didn't answer. Just then Gan came hurrying up. "I'm ready to play poker. I want my chocolate, too. Maybe I could have two chocolates this time. I really need two chocolates."

Cynna pulled her bag over. "Tell you what. I'll give you two chocolates if you'll go play poker with Steve up near the horses. I want to talk with my father by myself for a little while." She looked at Steve. "Okay with you?"

Steve shrugged. "I guess."

Once the other two had left, Cynna looked at her father. She didn't say anything. Just raised her eyebrows and waited.

For a minute she didn't think he'd answer. That anger was in his eyes again, the anger she'd glimpsed once before. Finally he nodded once. "You might as well know. Ashwa is the agreement signed by the five major power groups in Edge that Gifted humans are to be sterilized."

"What?"

"Hush!"

She lowered her voice. "It seemed strange I never encountered any Gifted humans, but I thought it might be something about Edge itself. I never dreamed…"

"They're afraid of us." The bitter twist to his mouth might have been a smile. "Not without reason, I suppose. Look at what's happened on Earth, where humans have had free rein. The other races have mostly died or been driven out."

"Because the magic died! God, are they just ignoring that? We've been cut off from the other realms, but surely they know about ambient magic being real low until the power winds changed things."

Daniel shrugged. "I'm telling you what everyone here knows—or thinks they know. Humans tend to take over by virtue of numbers. We're the most fertile of the races, and if they didn't take steps to keep our population down, we'd outbreed them all. If Edge were part of Faerie rather than being autonomous—"

"Wait, wait. You mean Edge isn't part of Faerie? It's high magic, and sidhe live here."

"To be part of Faerie, a realm must belong to the two queens, Winter and Summer. The queens don't govern their realms directly, but they have some essential laws—they're called, jointly, queens' law—that are binding on all those in their realms. Edge was given to the gnomes. Queens' law doesn't apply here."

"And what does queens' law have to say about humans?"

"It's not what it says. It… parts of queens' law are actual laws the way we think of them. Written rules. There aren't many. There's one about death magic, for example. It's utterly forbidden. But other parts of queens' law are, well, more like natural laws that are imposed on the realms by the queens."

Cynna was beyond skeptical, but kept her voice polite. "They can impose natural laws on several realms?"

"Sounds godlike, doesn't it? I have to say, when I first came here, I thought that's what the queens were—not actual gods, but a religious mythos used to explain the way things worked. I was pretty damned superior then." He shook his head, rueful. "Didn't I have the answers these backward souls lacked? But the queens are real, sweetheart, and they're not gods, however they may seem to mortals like us."

She knew someone like that. Sort of. The lupi's Lady, the one who'd created them and who they insisted they didn't worship. They just did what she said on the very rare occasions she deigned to speak to them through their Rhejes.

For a moment Cynna remembered a voice, the voice, the one she'd heard in a church one night… "They don't, uh… I mean, these queens haven't created any races, have they?"

"No!" Daniel was startled. "No, as I said, they aren't deities. They're High Sidhe, which means they're both immortal and extremely powerful, but they can't create life. Except in the sense all beings do, I suppose."

Cynna dragged her mind back on topic. "And these queens have imposed a natural law on their realms that affects human fertility?"

"It affects all fertility, I'm told, but the ones most affected are humans. If the population of any race in any of their realms grows too large, they stop having babies for a time."

"Jesus."

He nodded. "Here, lacking queen's law, the other races came up with a different way of limiting our numbers. In high magic realms, those with magic are more fertile than those without it. By sterilizing all humans born with Gifts, they limit our overall fertility."

"Everyone knows this, right? It isn't some deep, dark secret, but they tried to keep it secret from us. From those of us from Earth, I mean."

"Were you likely to trust them, help them, if you knew about ashwa?"

"Hell, no." Not then, anyway. But she'd seen more of this world. Specifically, she'd seen the Ahk up close and personal. Cynna chewed on her lip. "You work for the gnomes. You wanted me to Find the medallion for them."

Daniel sighed. "The gnomes enjoy deceit. They prize a good lie, but they are basically fair. They say the medallion will cause havoc in other hands, changes no one can predict, changes that might devastate the people here. I think that's probably true. They're also the least likely to instigate a war over the bloody thing. They can fight, don't get me wrong. But the Harazeed gnomes remember the Great War too well. They'll go to great lengths to avoid open conflict."

She considered that and several other things in silence, rubbing idly at her stomach.

Cynna couldn't feel any change there yet. No pooch. She hadn't had morning sickness or noticed any other physical sign of the little rider's presence. And yet, the baby was becoming real to her. Still mostly a future reality, a matter of looking forward and thinking things would go a certain way and there would be a baby.

Her baby. Hers and Cullen's.

She looked up. "Dad?"

Daniel's breath caught. His smile wobbled. "Yes, sweetheart?"

"Cullen said you had a bit of a Gift. A charisma Gift."

His face went through so many emotions she couldn't sort them all. "Yes. Yes, I know about ashwa personally. That's what you're asking, isn't it? You're the only child I'll ever have."

"Did the gnomes do it?"

He gave a single nod.

Cynna dragged in a huge breath and let it out slowly.

He'd been sterilized by the gnomes, and he still thought they were the best bet to hold the medallion. "I need to think things over."

Tentatively he reached out and touched her hand. "You need some sleep, too."

She found a smile. "Of course."

But her mind, slippery thing that it was, didn't help her line up plans for escape or locate any previously overlooked options. As soon as she lay down, she was too tired to think at all… almost too tired. Because one thought did intrude just before sleep dragged her down.

Those with magic were more fertile in high magic realms.

Earth was becoming higher magic… not as high as Edge, certainly, but more than it had been for about three thousand years.

Cullen had gotten her pregnant right after the power winds blew.

Maybe the lupi wouldn't have such a big problem with fertility anymore.

Oh, my. She really hoped she saw Lily again, so she could tell her. Or warn her.