Waterborn

now?'

'I tend your wounds,' the voice in his ear said. Perkar reached up to his shoulder. Indeed, the pain had gone out of it, and to his astonishment the skin had already closed in a little pucker over the puncture. Only the hole in his armor assured him that he had not been dreaming when the demon stabbed him.

'I took the poison from you, too,' the sword assured him.

'Poison?'

'The wound was full of poison.'

'Can you kill gods? Can you kill the Huntress and the Raven?'

'I am a weapon. Of my own volition I can kill nothing. Wielded by the right hand I can certainly kill a god. But I make you no quicker or stronger than you ever were, no more skillful.'

'You did something to my vision, made me see danger…'

'There is that. I can draw your gaze to where it needs to be.'

'Can you draw my gaze to where I must strike, to kill a god?'

'Yes. But a god cannot be killed with one blow. You must sever the cords that hold their hearts, and that is not easily done. Gods have heartstrings like metal, and they must be severed one stroke at a time.'

'How many of these strings?'

'Seven is the usual number.'

Perkar wondered if the sword could close his wounds fast enough to allow him to fight the Huntress. He asked it that.

'I heal your wounds by strengthening the mortal strings of your heart with my own. A god will see this and begin severing mine. When I am cut away from your heart, I can no longer heal you and you will die.'

'You make me equal to a god?'

The voice in his ear clucked, and Perkar realized that it was laughing.

'Not equal to a Mountain Goddess. She would always be faster than you and stronger than you, cut your heartstrings like horsehair. Perhaps if you came upon her asleep …'

'She is not asleep. She has the hunt with her.'

'Well, then, I wonder who shall carry me next.'

Ahead, Ngangata and Atti both loosed arrows nearly simultaneously. One final scramble and they reached the top of the ridge, Perkar and the Alwat last. He looked back, the way they had come. The hillside was not heavily forested; the rocks gave purchase only to tough, scrubby plants. Perkar could see the hunt as a vast rustling, like an ant bed stirred up. The Huntress was in sight below them. Atti fitted an arrow to his bow and loosed it.

Perkar held his breath as the shaft arced down. Ngangata fired, as well. The goddess jerked as Atti's arrow slid into her chest, nearly fell from her mount when Ngangata's took her in the shoulder. Perkar saw her teeth flash in a horrible, predatory smile, and then her own bow was bending.

The next instant Atti reeled from his saddle, his throat neatly pierced by a black-feathered shaft. Perkar watched in horror as the red-haired man thrashed about on the ground.

'Over!' Ngangata howled. 'Over the ridge!'

'Get Atti!' the Kapaka ordered.

'He is already dead!' Ngangata answered. Indeed, Atti still seemed alive, though his thrashing was already feeble. The shaft had passed through the great artery in his neck, and his blood was a fountain. Perkar urged Mang on, over the ridge. Ngangata, Eruka, and the Kapaka had already crossed.

A vast basin spread out below them, the hollow into which all of the surrounding hills and mountains bled their waters. In the crease of it was a gorge, the bottom of which they could not see at this angle. Nevertheless, there could be no doubt that it was the River, the Changeling. There was also no doubt that it was too far away. Perkar had once had a nightmare about being deep underwater, holding his breath, able to see the surface but with the sure knowledge he would never reach it. It was the same here. The slopes and floor of the basin were mostly bare, smooth stone, open ground that their horses could traverse quickly. But their horses were tired, and the hunt was strong, was gaining on them too quickly. It might be a close chase, but the certainty that they would not make it clenched Perkar's heart like a fist.

Sunlight leaked through the clouds, casting mottled golden light on the gorge. He was not too tired to see the irony in the situation—his first view of his great enemy, and yet at the moment the Changeling represented salvation.

All of the party except Apad and the Alwat were already ahead of him, threading down the slope. He looked back, fearing to see Apad shot. He wasn't; he was close behind Perkar. The Alwat, however, had halted. They were gathered in a little clump, their spears bristling out like the quills of a hedgehog.

'What are they doing?' Perkar asked—rhetorically, for Ngangata was too far ahead to hear.

'Picking where they are going to die,' Apad said. He grinned, suddenly, fiercely, the first such expression Perkar had seen on his face for some time. He held up the sword Perkar had chosen him, the one that had slain the woman. It was shimmering, colored like a rainbow. Perkar hadn't seen it do that before.

'There was a trick to it,' Apad confided. 'I'm glad I didn't learn it earlier, or I would have killed Ngangata. I was wrong about him.'

'We all were,' Perkar said. 'Come on.'

Apad glanced back at the Alwat. Digger was watching them, her expression unreadable.

'Good-bye, Perkar,' Apad said. 'Remember me to my family.' He turned his horse and in an instant plunged back over the crest of the hill, back the way they had come.

For a second Perkar was paralyzed; then, with a shriek, he, too, wheeled his horse. With their weapons, he and Apad could make a fight of it, could slow the Huntress for an instant or two at least; give the Kapaka more time to reach the River. This mess was his fault as much as Apad's. He felt a brief flare of guilt, for he was probably dooming Mang, as well, but that was as it must be.

He plunged down the slope behind Apad, heedless. It seemed almost as if their horses were falling rather than running, so great was their speed. When he whooped, Apad turned once and grinned at him. About that time, Perkar felt a terrific flash of pain in his chest. He looked down, gape-mouthed, at the arrow standing there.

'One heartstring gone,' the sword told him. Perkar slumped forward in the saddle, spit blood out of his mouth. It hurt terribly to breathe. Mang continued his plummet, however, and they tore through a slash of scrub; there, just below the steepest part of the cliff, the Huntress was following their progress with the tip of another arrow.

Apad did not slow his horse or take it down the switchback trail they had made coming up. Instead, shrieking like a madman, he urged his horse straight down, so that the poor beast bolted out into space. He seemed poised there for an instant; the shaft loosed by the Huntress seemed to float lazily up at him, before it lodged in the airborne horse. Then Apad and his mount slammed into the Huntress and the lion she rode, the horse shrieking piteously. Karak squawked and took to the air, just as the Huntress went down beneath Apad and his horse.

Perkar had too little strength to challenge Mang to the same feat, though the pain in his chest was already fading somewhat. Mang charged down the switchback; when Perkar reached the fray he could see that Apad had not only rolled clear of the tangle of horse and lion, but was setting about him among the feral-looking riders. He was shivering like his sword, dancing wildly with more skill than Apad had ever before demonstrated. Even as Perkar watched, one of the Bear-Men sank to his knees, decapitated, his blood a golden spray from his neck.

'He's carrying Madedge,' the voice said in Perkar's ears. It sounded jubilant. 'Madedge can fight!'

Perkar wasn't paying attention anymore. Mang died underneath him, sprouting a dozen arrows. Perkar took another in the ribs and two more glanced from his hauberk, but now his anger was on him. Even as Mang stumbled he was leaping from his saddle. A wolf died instantly, cloven by the jade blade, and Perkar let the weapon guide his eyes, prioritize his attacks. Next was one of the Bear-Men. Perkar parried a spear thrust and impaled him. Wrenching the sword out, he pushed on.

'That didn't kill him,' the sword informed him.

Perkar didn't care. 'Huntress!' he shrieked. 'Fight me!' He slashed at wolves, fighting toward the Huntress. She had regained her feet, wielding a long, bright-pointed spear. Her smile was one of satisfaction, even of