The Knave of Souls - Fantasy - Sequel to The Jack of Souls

Chapter 25

And when the Blood of the god fills them with his wisdom,

And when the god speaks, through them, divine words,

Then shalt thou scribe each utterance on finest parchment of brood and bastard

And bind it as new scripture in the sacred Book of Krato.

         —First Commandment of the Blood Heralds of Krato

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PHYROS BLOOD

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As Rag climbed a crumbling sandbank in Molly's wake, Caris looked up to see Willard halted ahead of her on the flood plain, just inside the edge of the forest. The pungent stink of ragleaf smoke rode a breeze from him and boxed her in the nose. He'd started on a new roll.

"Hobble the horses here," he said, "and follow me on foot."

Caris looked at the sun's position in the sky. They couldn't have left Harric and Brolli more than an hour before. They hadn't even traveled two miles down the river. Did he have some trick in mind regarding the tracks that they left for Bannus?

Willard watched her through a cloud of smoke. "I need you to do something for me." Without further explanation, he urged Molly into the trees and disappeared behind a screen of brush.

Puzzled, she did as he bid her and followed. Hiking in full armor let her stretch her legs, and got her wind up, but she scarcely enjoyed it as she normally would. It was strange for Willard to make her leave Rag, and a stiffness in his manner made her chew at the inside of her lip. What did he need? Why not tell her before she left her horse?

She found him more than a quarter of a mile from the river, beneath a fir tree. He'd dismounted and now stood waiting under the fir's spreading branches, Molly's reins in hand.

As Caris joined him and began to catch her breath, she noticed two additional things: on the ground before him lay a coil of chains that she recognized as Molly's four-point iron hobbles, and in one hand he held a polished wooden box the size of a fancy dagger case.

She glanced to Willard's face, looking for clues.

His brow bent, and his gaze hardened. "I'm going to ask you to do something for me," he said, voice low and measured. "I'll explain as we go. You understand?"

Caris shifted her feet. She nodded.

His lip curled slightly as he tied Molly off on one of the fir's lower branches. Then he returned to the scaly trunk and sat with his back to it. He set the box beside him and stuck the ragleaf between his teeth. Hands free, he reached his arms back as if he'd embrace the tree behind him and met Caris's gaze. "Chain me to the tree."

Caris felt the blood leave her face.

"Just do it," he said. "And make it good because I must not slip free."

A dull roar began in Caris's ears. What was this about? Should she know what this meant? She felt her vision narrowing to a closed tunnel before her as the roar grew louder—both signs heralding a collapse. She closed her eyes tightly. No. I cannot curl up on the ground now! Reaching out for Rag, she managed to sense her even at this distance. The mare was calm and content, and Caris dove into the connection to draw the mare's senses around her like a shield against the confusion.

Sweet grass. Unworried, swishing tails. Soothing sun on her haunches.

"You with me, girl?"