Unbroken Chain: The Darker Road

his skeptical expression and laughed. “I know that sounds like something you say to comfort yourself on the nights when you’re freezing and wondering why you ever signed up for this job-and I’ve had my share of those nights-but I found it’s true almost every time. Speaking of interesting,” she added, and her voice lost some of its cheerfulness, “Thorm is a strange one. I don’t know him well, but something about him doesn’t feel right.”

“Because of what happened with the boy?” Ashok asked.

“Partly. It’s what Les isn’t telling me about rummaging through Thorm’s wagon that worries me,” Mareyn said. “I wasn’t there when it happened-Thorm brought the boy to me afterward. And I know the dwarf has a temper, but whatever he said to Les when he caught him put the fear of the gods in that boy. When I talked to him later, he wouldn’t say a word about what happened or what he saw in Thorm’s merchandise. It makes me think he has something to hide.”

“Maybe, but if he was truly worried the boy might expose something, he would have killed him when he caught him at the wagon,” Ashok reasoned. He saw Mareyn’s face tighten, and he added quickly, “I don’t think there’s any danger to him now, but I’d keep a tight rein on the boy just to make sure.”

Mareyn nodded. “In the meantime, will you and your companions help me watch Thorm to see if he does anything suspicious?”

Ashok nodded. He noticed Daruk over by the main fire. The bard’s eyes were alight-he was preparing his tale. What song would he sing? Would it recall the ghosts of the Tuigan warriors? A rush of feeling flowed through Ashok at the memory of that night. He would never forget riding with the spirits of the warriors.

“Have you traveled much with Daruk?” Ashok asked Mareyn.

Mareyn shot a glance at the bard. “Enough that I should know his life story-the man loves to talk, and if you get him going, he won’t stop, but I don’t know a single thing about his past before he came to Ikemmu.”

“Yet he seems to know everything about the people of Ikemmu, especially its shadar-kai,” Ashok said.

“He’s up to mischief tonight,” Mareyn said. “I can see it in his eyes. Usually means trouble for the rest of us.” She glanced up at the sky. “Tymora, you’re making my skin tingle. Do you have a game going that I don’t know about?”

She spoke to her goddess in a conversational tone, with none of the reverence that filled Uwan’s voice when he addressed Tempus. Ashok found himself growing more curious about Mareyn. “Your prayers sound like banter with a companion,” he said. “Won’t Tymora be offended by that informality?”

“Why should she be offended?” Mareyn said. “She is my companion, the one who walks with me always.”

“And that doesn’t disturb you,” Ashok said, “the thought of your goddess always watching?”

“Not at all-I find comfort and joy in her presence.”

“Hovering, controlling …”

“Guiding, protecting …” She grinned at his expression. “Our relationship with the gods is as much about how we see them, as how they truly are. They are what we need them to be.”

“What if all we want is for them to leave us be?” Ashok asked.

“Then maybe you look to the wrong god,” Mareyn said.

Ashok started to reply, when across the camp, Daruk stood up, circled the fire, and clapped his hands to draw the people’s attention.

“What have you got for us, Daruk?” one of the drovers asked. “Tales of a warm, soft bed filled with warm, soft women?”

“Don’t be crude, Ceylis.” The bard shook a finger at him and grinned. “In the cold, cold night, when we breathe the frozen rain, what relief is there for us to find? We are men and women of the road. Where does our solace lie? Only in this: our camaraderie, our fellowship, and a little theatricality.” He spoke in a playful, singsong rhythm, his voice as smooth as a glass of wine. “What have I got for you? Be careful what you wish for, friends. I’m going to sing to you a bit and speak to you a bit. I’m going to chew my words and make you swallow this bitter cold tale told to me by my father and his father before him. The more I sing, the more I whisper this sticky story, the closer I get to freeing myself of its bitter saver. This is how I work my magic-this is how it all starts.”

There were scattered chuckles and groans from the crew.

“Knows he’s got an audience,” someone muttered.

“Tonight, in honor of fallen friends, I’ll sing you a story about the mighty shadar-kai and their illustrious city of Ikemmu,” Daruk said. He glanced at Ashok, then at Kaibeth and her sellswords. The brothers sat with Ilvani across from the main fire. Skagi caught Ashok’s eye and shrugged. Who knew what the bard intended?

“A child’s song-just the one or two verses, and we’ll see how much worse it gets from there.”

Daruk circled the dancing flames. The firelight reflected in his dark eyes made them look almost black, like a shadar-kai’s. He spoke a phrase and made a sudden gesture that thickened the smoke and shaped it into two figures, male and female.

“Once there were two gods: the mighty Tempus,” Daruk shouted with exaggerated movements, thrusting his arms to the sky, “and Beshaba, the Lady of Misfortune. They liked to throw the dice, this pair, and bicker and pick, pick and bicker. Their dice were gray cubes with small black eyes-wild, weary skin-cutters, the shadar-kai.” He bowed to Ashok and his companions. “They threw the dice and never made nice with this race that was a prize to each.

“Then one day, Shar came to play.” He gestured again, and a third, larger smoke figure joined the game. It hovered between Tempus and Beshaba, undulating in the air.

“Poor Tempus, poor Beshaba,” Daruk said loudly, over the jeers of both the brothers and the sellswords. “They didn’t like to play with Shar. Her toys were bigger than theirs-floating cities in the air. Her shadar-kai were bigger too, but she still wanted more. She made nice with the war god and the sad god.” The smoky figure of Shar offered Beshaba a bracelet of wispy vapor and gave to Tempus a gray, finely formed dagger.

Ashok watched the apparitions of Tempus and Beshaba clutch their new toys jealously while Shar looked on. Daruk walked up to the fire, and Shar put out her hand to caress his face. He undulated to match her movements, then broke away from the dance to stand before the brothers and Ilvani.

“Everyone was happy, but then one day Shar came back to the game, and she said just this: ‘Foolish sister, you never did know that band I gave you was a snake, and brother Tempus’s sword is clay. I played the game with loaded dice, and now you pay the price, for the shadar-kai are mine.’ ”

Daruk waved a hand and the figures vanished, wreathing him briefly in a cloak of smoky vapor. He bowed and stayed bent so he was at eye level with Ilvani. “What do you think of this story, witch?”

Ashok sat tense, but Ilvani just stared at him with a detached curiosity, the way she often scrutinized the trees or bushes. “You talk a child’s truth,” she said blandly, “black and white, the colors are right. I can make a rhyme, but it doesn’t make it true.”

Skagi burst out laughing, and there were even chuckles among the sellswords. Daruk smiled, exposing rows of white teeth. He bowed deeper to the witch and went back to his place by the fire. He started singing a low- voiced melody that eased the tension in the air. The humans talked among themselves, and the Martucks got up to dance to the slow music. After a while, a few of the others-all humans-joined them.

Ashok and Mareyn moved to the main fire to sit with Ilvani, who watched the humans and their gentle movements.

“Well, that was a waste of time,” Skagi grumbled. “What did he mean with all that godsdamned smoke?”

“A shadow puppet show with the gods-I didn’t think Daruk was quite that arrogant,” Mareyn said.

“Or foolish, to taunt the shadar-kai like that,” Cree said.

“Doesn’t matter-Ilvani put him in his place, didn’t you, witch?” Skagi said.

Ilvani didn’t appear to be listening. “Dancing isn’t a punishment,” she said.

Ashok followed her gaze to the Martucks, who danced close together in each other’s arms. “Not the way they do it,” he agreed.

“Is that why none of the shadar-kai are dancing?” Mareyn said. “I know your people dance. I’ve seen the fire circles.” She grabbed Ashok’s hand. Reluctantly, Ashok let her pull him to his feet.

They walked to the fire and joined the rhythm of the dance. At first, Ashok remained distracted by Daruk’s performance. Cree was right. The bard had done it deliberately to provoke the shadar-kai. Was it just a ploy to stoke their anger and stimulate their souls, or was there a deeper meaning?

“What’s wrong?” Mareyn asked, drawing his attention back to the dance.