A horse and rider moved a lot faster on the slippery road than a heavy wagon, and Malachus reconnoitered the conditions ahead of them in quick time, returning to Kursak with grim news.
“Worse than we imagined,” he said. “Mud is deeper and looser farther ahead. It’s a guarantee you’ll sink these wagons the instant you roll the first wheel forward. Those travelers who managed to get past it before it turned into a slurry are stuck another half league out and blocking what part of the road isn’t washed away, and floodwaters are covering the road.”
Some of the men had gathered around them. Kursak curled one hand into a fist and punched it into his other palm. “Fuck!” He took several deep breaths before addressing Malachus once more. “Send a message down the line. We stop where we stand and see what the morning brings.”
Nathin spoke up. “We’ll block the road completely.”
“I don’t give a godsdamn,” the wagon master snapped. “Whoever tries to get past us will just end up like the ones ahead of us—stuck and in danger of drowning.”
At Kursak’s orders, the caravan halted, and nervous free traders stayed up to keep an eye on their wagons in case they started to sink. Malachus remained outside with them, discussing what to do in case that happened or floodwaters overwhelmed them.
Halani met up with him just as he went to check on Batraza. The rain had lightened to a heavy drizzle, plastering Halani’s clothes to her small frame. The hint of a curve at her waist and hips teased him, and she held a wrapped bundle in careful hands. It was the finest sight Malachus had seen all day.
“No reading or supper tonight,” he told her. “We’re all on guard duty.” Though guarding wagons from mud was a first for him. “What are you doing out here, Halani?”
She slowly unwrapped her bundle and presented him with a cup from which tendrils of steam wafted. “Broth,” she announced. “Hot.”
Had he not been on his knees in the mud several times already, Malachus would have knelt in front of her and worshipped. He took the cup, breathing in the scent of herbs and salt. “You are a goddess,” he proclaimed.
“If I was, I’d stop the rain.” She produced a small hunk of bread from the magic bundle. “Here. This is for the broth.”
He thanked her for both, then admonished her. “You shouldn’t be out here, Halani.”
“Unlike this road, I’m not going to melt.”
Her statement encapsulated every fear every free trader trapped on the road had.
Malachus finished the food in short order, shaking the cup to capture the last drop. “I think that was the best I’ve ever had.”
Halani laughed. “As you’ve had to swallow a vat of willow-bark tea recently, I’m not at all surprised you’d say that.”
He considered telling her to return to her wagon and get dry, then thought better of it. She was an adult woman who made her own decisions. And while they couldn’t read in this mess, it didn’t mean they couldn’t have a lesson.
“What is the letter that looks like half a pheasant’s tail?”
At his quizzing, her eyes rounded with delight, and she eagerly followed his lead as the rain cascaded down on them.
She stayed with him through the night, refusing to leave even when he teased her over her numerous yawns. Their sleepy levity faded as the gray light of another wet day revealed land that was now a lake.
Kursak called a gathering of the caravan. “The road’s falling apart as I speak, and we’re turning into an island. I’m open to ideas for how we can get out of this with the caravan intact.”
One of the free trader women spoke, saying aloud what everyone already knew. “Even if the rain stopped tomorrow, the rest of the road won’t be fit to travel for several days.”
“What about the old fen road?” Nathin’s gaze swept the crowd. “We’d have to double back about a league, turn west, then south. It would put us back on the main road not far from Domora. We’d have about a day’s travel east to get there, but the entire trip would take less time than waiting for this road to dry.”
Unfamiliar with the landscape, Malachus thought Nathin’s suggestion a good one. Others did not.
“Through Hedock’s Fen?” Seydom scowled. “Are you jesting? If the rains are washing out roads here, that fen is a shallow sea by now.”
“But not the road itself. When the old emperor ordered it built, his engineers knew the fen would flood from just a spat of rain, so they elevated it high enough to stop it from going underwater when the fen did.” He looked to Kursak. “It’s more a causeway than a road.”
Kursak frowned, hesitating. “I don’t know.”
Malachus gaped at him. “Why not? If it’s elevated, we can get across.”
“Because crossing the fen isn’t the problem. The fen road ends not far from Icsom’s Retreat. It’s bandit country there. Most free traders avoid it and stick to the safer, more traveled roads.”
“There are enough of us to defend ourselves if we’re attacked.” Nathin nodded at each man standing in the group, including Malachus. “All of us know our way around an ax or a bow.”
Kursak still hesitated. “Some of those raiders travel in bands as big as twenty.”
“We’re more than that.”
“We are, only if you count the women and children.”
They were getting nowhere with the two men volleying back and forth. Against his better judgment, Malachus had already questioned Kursak’s hesitation in taking the fen road, and once again he ignored the voice that told him he wasn’t a free trader or an elder of this group. “However you decide, you should know that if we get another day of rain, the floodwaters will reach us here. The travelers at risk now are probably already retreating. We can block the way of those behind us, but we’re also blocking the ones in front. If they can’t get out of the way because of us, and they can’t go around us, they’ll go through us. If you’re avoiding the fen road because you fear confrontation and fighting, you’ll end up facing it against people trying not to drown instead of those wanting to steal. A desperate man in fear of his life makes a more formidable opponent than a greedy one.”
A heavy silence descended on the group until Kursak broke it. “I want to see the upper road myself. When I get back, you’ll have my decision. Be ready to move in case I choose the fen road.” He left to find a mount, and the group dispersed for their wagons and any tasks they needed to complete in anticipation of moving.
Halani laid a hand on Malachus’s arm. “I’m glad you said what you did.”
He basked in her approval. “I’m not one of you, but it seemed wrong not to say something.”
“Until you leave, you are one of us. Kursak is a reasonable man. You made a reasonable argument. I’ll be surprised if we aren’t on our way toward the fen road by midday.”
She was right. Pale and even grimmer than before, Kursak returned to the caravan, snapping out orders before he’d even dismounted from his horse. “We’ll leave the road and cut across the spots where the land rolls higher.” He eyed Halani. “We’ll need you for this.”
Need her for what? Malachus had no time to ask her nor Halani the time to explain. They began the laborious process of turning the wagons in the opposite direction so that they faced perpendicular to the stretch of half-drowned rye grass.
Halani strode to the front of the caravan line, a poplar staff in one hand, eyes half closed as she stared into the distance. Kursak came to stand beside Malachus for a moment as he watched Halani.
“The Empire punishes those who deal in sorcery. It’s a death sentence for them.” The wagon master’s eyes were grave, filled with both threat and warning. “If you have any affection for the woman who pulled you back from death’s threshold, you’ll say nothing to anyone outside this caravan about what you see.” He walked away then to join Halani, leaving a perplexed Malachus to mull over his words. He understood soon enough why Kursak said what he did.
She denied any knowledge of earth magic or the skill to use it, had warned him of the dangers of even alluding to some power she might have, fearful of the Empire’s eyes and ears. Yet now she called forth the hymn of earth, her entire being centered on its song, to guide her and the slow-moving caravan over treacherous ground to reach their destination.
Except for the creak of wagon wheels and the occasional bleat from a ewe, they moved in silence, mindful of Halani’s concentration as she led them across waterlogged pastures. They had to stop twice, once to heave a wagon that had veered off the narrow path out of the mud, another time to partially unload and reload the heaviest wagon so it, too, wouldn’t sink.
The journey took an eternity, and night rushed toward them as Kursak’s triumphant whoop burst into the silence. “The fen road!” he shouted, pointing to a narrow causeway just ahead of them.
A cheer rose from the caravan, and Kursak snatched a wilting Halani into his arms to twirl her around. Several of the other men did the same, including Nathin and Seydom, until Halani raised her hands in surrender and begged not to be twirled again. She stared at Malachus with glassy eyes as he approached her.
He stroked her cool cheek with two fingers, noting the violet shadows under her eyes, the paleness of her mouth. “Well done, daughter of earth,” he said softly.
“It was, wasn’t it,” she replied with a sweet smile before blood spurted from her nose. Her eyes rolled back and her legs crumpled beneath her. She collapsed in his arms.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The distant chime of the courtyard’s gate bell sounded in the solarium. Gharek stiffened. A visitor at this late hour didn’t bode well. He watched his daughter where she sat across from him on the floor. She ignored the chime to study the cards laid out between them in a neat square, their faces beautifully illustrated and used to hide the winning numbers on their undersides. Her small features pinched with concentration.