Wysper - Leaving Bukhara

Today we are finally leaving Bukhara.

Ever since the Keeper of the Spirits dissolved and blew away like a swirl of discolored snow, we have been staying at an inn on the opposite side of the bridge from the city, out of Khan Timur's... or King Timur's, depending on which hat he is wearing, sight. Not out of mind, though, because Fox and Dancer have been shadowing our movements, and Asena feels certain they are not doing it out of any kindness.

Last night, Asena pronounced herself able to walk and even run a short distance, if she had to. So we packed up our belongings, and are now only waiting for nightfall to depart. I'm staring out from our room's second story open window, its faded curtain, used to keep floating brick dust out of the room, pulled back and tied, as the White Horde marches through Bukhara on their way to the lands Timur promised they could possess.

According to Castor, who is coming with us, the White Horde migrates in family units, and it seems he is right. Separate groups are walking together beside wooden carts piled high with everything they own. Some carts are huge, drawn by oxen, while others are small enough to be pulled by dogs, and others by their slaves working in teams. The oldest of the horde ride on the back of the carts while holding the youngest.

As the rumble of their wooden wheels going past us fills the air, Greywolf comes up behind me and puts his arms around my waist. "I'm surprised the Bukharans aren't trying to make a few silvers off this mob."

I lean against him with the back of my head against his chest. "That would slow down the migration and cause confusion. However, I feel certain the merchants will wait until the White Horde is settled, then either set up their wares just outside the western gate or at the edge of the encampment itself." Looking beyond the passing throng towards the hills off in the distance, I take a deep breath. "Woof, I am scared."

Greywolf gives me a gentle squeeze. "It's going to be fine. Castor has Rocky packed with enough food and water to last until we reach Khor, where we'll-"

"Khor? Asena has been telling everyone we are heading south towards Bactria."

He grins. "She told me the truth after you'd gone to the bath house inside Ishtar’s temple, earlier this morning. We've got friends in Khor who'll let us earn our keep until spring, then find a caravan heading east towards the Ogri city of Haven. After that, it's south towards the Xian empire."

A feeling of hurt stabs at me. "Why did she tell you and not me? I thought I had earned her trust."

Greywolf raises his eyebrows. "Why do you think she waited until you were gone to tell me? Asena was afraid that Ishi might turn into 'Mother Ishtar', and you'd either blurt out the truth or have it wormed out of you. Humans aren't strong willed enough to resist her."

My hand goes to my mouth as the truth stares me in the face. "Ishtar did not have to, because Myra did it for her. She was sitting beside the bathing pool as if waiting for me. She claimed it was coincidence and I believed her, as I did when Myra then claimed she wanted to bathe me again like she used to, when I was not allowed to bathe myself."

I smooth my new linen dress with both hands as the memory of this morning's events returns. "Myra wanted to know everything about our plans, and I told her. Greywolf, I told her we were planning to leave this evening after dark."

"Which is why Asena wants to leave the moment Castor gets back."

A feeling of unease grips me. "Would he try to detain us?"

Greywolf shrugs. "I don't see why, but he's keeping an eye on us, and that's got Asena nervous. I mean, he can't have us killed because of the oath he swore on the Rune sword, which I think he would've done after Yasataar went poof and Attila stormed out, but I can't imagine why he's having us followed.

Remembering Timur's threat to turn me into a bed-slave, I shiver. "At least Avitohol... apologies, Attila, and Hypam got out in time. Where do you think they are now?"

"Back with the Black Dragon clan. Attila promised we'd see him again, but unless he finds us along the road to Khor, I don't see how."

Floorboards from the hallway behind us groan as the heavy tread of footsteps halts in front of the door. Both of us turn around as it opens. "You two ready?"

Asena is wearing armor and carrying both her enormous sword and the stabbing short sword she uses as a dagger, in their sheathes. "We are," I reply, picking up my light pack and putting it on as Greywolf does the same with his much heavier one. "Your son told me our true destination," I add as we walk up next to her, "and I fear you were right not to tell me. Myra milked me for information like a farmer with a shaggy tailed goat."

Hearing the bitterness in my voice at my own naiveness, Asena gently brushes the side of my face with a black clawed finger. "Just because you're paranoid, it doesn't mean someone's not out to get you. We're going to head for the grey tree used the night of the raid, as if we're going to travel through the Shadowlands, then wait for nightfall and swing north. Let's go."

Greywolf and I follow her out the door and down the hall to the stairs, taking them to the common room below. Being mid-morning, the room is empty save for Castor, who is leaning against the wall next to the door leading into the street. He tugs a buckle on his armor a notch tighter before giving us a wolfish smile. "Everything is packed onto Rocky, who's grumbling about it like an old woman."

"Did Varsena do as he promised?" Greywolf asks.

"Your new armor and Artifact sword, transmuted out of the Ironwood one that Ghostdog brought, are packed away as well. He also made you this." Castor reaches into the leather satchel he carries on a sling, and pulls out an amulet wide enough to cover my hand. The base was once wood, carved into a triangle with rounded edges, then transmuted into Artifact, its prongs holding a half-shell of smoky white glass as large as my palm. A blue mana stone has been embedded at its base.

Greywolf's eyes widen. "Where did Varsena find ghost-glass?"

Castor shrugs. "No idea. Varsena wanted to give this to you himself, but Timur's given orders banning anyone from seeing us off."

"How gracious of him," Asena growls, "considering Wysper and my son just spent the last few days recharging Ishtar and every mana stone in Bukhara."

"I'm sure we missed one somewhere," Greywolf says, "though it seemed like mana stones were coming out of the woodwork. Anyway, why are you being grumpy? It gave you time to heal so you wouldn't have to hobble around like an old woman."

A smile touches my lips as Asena makes a half-hearted cuff in Greywolf's direction, which he easily avoids. Castor takes the amulet and lays it on the table. "Fox has the other amulet linked to this one, and she wants you to contact her, so we know they're working like they should."

Greywolf eyes it askance. "I've never seen a device like this one. How does it work?"

Asena is the one who answers. "Like the gem Osiris uses, with the sender able to see the area around her, while the receiver can see the sender's image but nothing else. Unlike the gem, the sender's image can't move, and if you disrupt the amulet the image disappears. The amulets can either send or receive; the sender wears it on her chest while the receiver sets his amulet on a flat surface and activates the mana stone."

"What is the amulet's range?" I ask her.

"Pretty much unlimited. During the War of the Daemo Princes, several satellite moons made of ghost-glass were sent into the sky to orbit the earth, and they let the amulets talk to one another wherever you are."

Moons sent into the sky? "Apologies, Asena, but how is that even possible?"

She snorts. "Child, there aren't words in any human language to explain the process. Just call it magic and leave it at that."

Greywolf sets the amulet down on the table and cups his hand around the mana stone. At once, the stone glows blue, and a moment later a foot tall image of Fox appears, floating a hand-span above the amulet. Her image looks solid, yet also soft, as if a painting has come to life. "Greywolf, thank the Dragon Queen you responded. All of you need to get away from Bukhara right now."

Greywolf frowns. "What's wrong?"

"Khan-king Timur. He needs a scapegoat to explain Yasataar's disappearance to the White Horde, so he's claiming you murdered her, then used magic to create an illusion that looked like her and spoke in her voice."

"Explaining why she dissolved when Kula touched her," I say, "except illusions never do that. They always pop like a soap bubble when they touch anything except another illusion."

"And Yasataar brushed against me going past," Greywolf adds. "Fox, I can't make an illusion any more than I could transmute wood or heal. Timur should know that."

"Of course he does," Fox says, "but it doesn't matter because his people don't understand what you can or cannot do. The oath he swore means he can't attack you, or even take you captive, and that extends to his men as well. However, if you attack him first then the oath’s broken, and he can have you thrown into the dungeon and tortured until you confess."

Greywolf gives her image an incredulous stare. "Wotan's blood, why would I attack him? I mean, all I want to do is shake the dust of Bukhara off my boots and never return."

"What if someone you loved was being tormented in his dungeon? Domina wanted him to swear never to defile Wysper, but he didn't do that."

The cold hand of fear runs an icy finger along my spine as Asena snarls, "I'll rip off his manhood and shove it down his throat if he tries."

"You'll have to stand in line," Castor growls. "I say we leave right now and use the White Horde as cover for our escape."

Fox's image shakes her head. "The guards on the walls have orders to watch this inn, and report to their captain if they see you leave. Go out the back door. The buildings are tall enough to provide you cover, and once I leave Domina's room, I'll report to Timur that I contacted you and you're still planning to leave tonight."

"Castor," Greywolf says, "can we at least retrieve my armor and sword?"

"The guards will see you," Fox says before Castor does, "and know something is up. Have the Daemo mount wait for a time, then leave in the opposite direction to throw off the hunt." She hesitates a moment. "Greywolf, even if Timur captures you both, you and Wysper are too valuable to kill. Timur even admitted that himself."

My eyes narrow. "Ishtar is the one behind this."

"Do you blame her?" Fox's expression turns sardonic. "According to Sybil, for the first time since the Sasnayams conquered Bukhara, Ishtar's fully charged with more mana than she's had in centuries. She's terrified of going back to the way she was."

Asena gives Fox's image a dark scowl. "For that matter, why are you helping us? You should be thinking of a way to have Wysper captured for your master."

"Khan-king Timur's not my master," Fox replies in a cool voice. "Domina is, and she wanted all of you to remain free. I do her will because I have to, though I will also do Timur's if he demands it."

"What if you did not have to please anyone else except yourself?" I ask. I am not sure why I am doing this, except the longing in her eyes when she looks at Greywolf is making me uneasy. "What if you could do your own will and no one else's?"

Fox turns towards me and her gaze turns... hungry. "I would become your bed-slave. You are the key to Greywolf, and I would make myself so indispensable to you that you’d beg Greywolf to give me what I want, rather than lose me." I am gaping at her like a fool and her expression turns sardonic. "You did ask."

"Daemo slut," Asena growls.

"Can you blame me? You let me taste your son, Asena, and now I understand why the Princes of my people went to war with the Celestials. The Daemo merchant who told me about Greywolf had, in her long life, tasted other Celestials before, but she said she'd never tasted anything like him. She told me the magic of the Shadowlands gave his blood a spicy flavor that made it unique.

“But there's more. The merchant also said the discipline you taught him, along with his good heart, made him the only Celestial she trusted with her life." Fox looks back at me. "If I am still alive when the Rune sword breaks, I will search for you, all the way to Britannia, if I must. Lady Jhadra taught me the sensual arts of Indus, and I will give you such nights of passion-"

Asena slams her hand onto the table. All of us jump as the image waveres, then disappears as she points a black claw at Greywolf's face. "Never again," she snarls. "You are to never become carnal with another Daemo for the rest of your life. Do you hear me?"

Greywolf matches her glare for glare. "I didn't start down that road on my own, remember? I was pushed."

Asena raises her hand as if she is about to cuff him, then closes it into a fist. "Wysper," she says, continuing to stare at him, "don't ever let him be alone with another Daemo. Ghostdog had a weakness for them, and he gave that weakness to his son when he decided what traits Greywolf should have, and what ones he didn't think Greywolf would need." Her head turns towards me. "Am I making myself clear?"

I nod quickly. "Yes, Asena."

"Good." Asena uncurls her fist and puts both palms to her eyes. "We can't trust the Daemo not to betray us, yet to remain here is death. Castor," her hands returning to her sides, "tell Rocky to wait until it sees a company of guards coming out the main gate, and then escape using the migrating people as cover. We'll catch up to it on the road north." Asena looks at us. "You two follow me."

Greywolf and I follow Asena through the kitchen, while Castor goes to the front door and opens it a crack. A pair of women are standing at the counter, chopping vegetables, and they scramble out of our way as we race past them towards the back door. Asena smacks it open, the door rebounding off its frame as we hurry through it into the cold sunshine.

To our right we pass a brush fence keeping a couple dozen chickens penned, Asena leading us at a jog through an extensive vegetable garden bedded down for the winter. She angles left towards a dirt track beyond it, lined with smaller buildings resembling houses with large gaps between them, and as we reach it, the jangling sound of someone running in leather armor gets close. "Rocky's good," Castor says as he joins us. "Not happy, though."

Neither am I, holding the hem of my dress up so not to trip over it, as Asena growls, "I wish we had Titan here with us and not playing nursemaid."

"I didn't get a chance to tell you," Castor says while the few people using the track move out of our way with troubled expressions. "Titan and Paulus are gone."

Asena gives him a dark look. "Gone where?"

"No one knows. They vanished out of the Dancing Direwolf before sunrise, and the gate guards swore they didn't leave the city."

"Shite," Greywolf says. "Sounds like things aren't going according to Timur's great plan."

"Save your breath for running," Asena growls at him. I am already panting as the track ends at the wide caravan road leading south. We cut across it onto a field of dry grass and head towards the hill overlooking the place where the dead, grey tree marks a weak spot in the fabric of our world, a league or so away.

Time passes, the stitch in my side easing as I find my rhythm, the cold air now comfortable as dry grass crunches beneath our feet. As we reach the hill and start up it, I move next to Asena. "Are we traveling through the Shadowlands?"

She shakes her head. "Too dangerous. We'll hide in the ruins until nightfall, then sneak-"

"Asena," Greywolf calls out behind us in a sharp voice, "we've got a problem." I glance back over my shoulder.

Off in the distance, a company of at least a hundred Warghorse warriors are riding hard to catch us.