Children of Chaos

requesting and receiving instruction from the Dark One and now she had dreamed everything she needed.

Saltaja had not yet emerged from her pavilion. There was time, but it must be done before they left land and Fabia lost contact with the Mother.

First Fabia must create a darkness to shield herself from notice. Dearest mistress, You must sometimes cloak Your children and obscure the sight of others. Do so now, I pray You, and protect Your servant. Thinking veil, she wove strands of obscurity around herself. This was her newest skill, but she felt confident that she was using it correctly. The sparkle of light on the river dimmed, and even the chattering voices seemed to fade as if muffled by fog.

Now the hex. She had never seen snow in her life that she could remember, but she had heard tell of it, and in her dreams she had been standing in a field of malice like black snow. Gathering up a handful, she began small: One for spitefulness and maltreating the men you command. Then she squeezed a second handful into the first to make a black snowball: Two for disrupting my dedication party. Three for forcing your foul kisses on me that day. And so on. For twice abducting and humiliating Horth Wigson. Finally much larger handfuls for the despicable assault on Paola Apicella. By then Fabia had amassed a seething mass of hatred. It felt adequate, but if nothing happened in a few days, she could try a stronger hex. By blood and birth; death and the cold earth, she mentally threw the malice at Perag. There were no visible results at all, which was as it should be. She dissolved her veils of darkness.

Saltaja had emerged with Guitha and her tent was already being dismantled. It was time to embark. All that Fabia had left to do to complete her hex was the lie: Instruct them, my lady, that if I were truly one of Your Chosen, I would not dare strike at him so blatantly in front of another chthonian who is my foe and has vastly greater experience and knowledge of Your ways. Convince them all that Perag's misfortunes must be pure chance, a sending from holy Cienu, and nothing to do with me. Amen.

¦

The passengers followed the riverfolk custom of shifting from boat to boat, and that morning Fabia scrambled down the bank to embark in Ibis, closely followed by Cnurg and another eight Werists, mostly from right flank. Generally the riverfolk kept to the stern, leaving the area between the two masts for baggage and cargo, reserving the bow and its seating for passengers. She took her favorite place at the end of the starboard shelf, where she could lean back against the side and watch what the sailors were up to. Cnurg sat close to her, inevitably. Most of the Werists shunned the benches and perched on various barrels and crates they had collected. Two remained standing as punishment for some minor offense, their haggard expressions suggesting that they had been on their feet most of the night. The last to board were Perag and Saltaja, who took the bench opposite. Fabia smiled a welcome, mentally consigning the day to a dunghill.

'Twelve blessings on you, my lady. And on you, Packleader.'

Saltaja inclined her head in imperious acknowledgment. However evil, she was at least courteous. The Werist just scowled at the mockery. Although he now commanded only a pack of four flanks, he still wore a huntleader's green sash; everyone but Fabia still granted him his former rank.

The moment the lines were cast off, the riverfolk began squabbling. Fabia watched with amusement, unable to understand their curious twanging speech, but reading their gestures and emotions easily enough. Evidently some of the male sailors had been helping Nymphs worship Eriander in the night, so the women were threatening to start offering favors to Werists. The brighter Werists caught on and called out promises of cooperation until Perag barked at them to stay out of it. The argument spread wider when Hrada came near enough for shouted exchanges.

The Wrogg was not as huge here as it had been at Yormoth, and boats swarmed on it like midges, tacking back and forth in complex dance. The vessels were long, lean, and open, offering no shade from a sun much fiercer than Skjar ever knew.

Fabia's childhood ambition to explore all Vigaelia now lay in ruins. So far she had found travel hideously boring. Although many towns and villages lay along the great river, all she ever saw from the boats were the levees, for they were high enough to cut off her view of anything else. The coastal ranges had dwindled until they were lost behind the wall of the world. Some days she managed to organize sing-alongs or, rarely, conversations that did not consist entirely of Werists bragging about their toughness, but neither was ever possible when sourpuss Perag was present.

So she watched the flights of birds, waved to passing boats, and puzzled over her visitor in the night The seer had not told her what would happen in Kosord. Nothing, probably. She would just be dragged on upriver until she overtook the unwanted Cutrath Horoldson. If the Witnesses had any plan at all, it probably required the flavorful Fabia to return to Celebre, with marriage an unfortunate but necessary formality to get her there.

'Did you pay your respects to the god in the night?' she asked Cnurg. That gangling, freckled redhead was a year or two older than most of the others and showed signs of growing out of the brutalization so obvious in the other Werists. Some of them were easy to look at, if not to listen to, and she could feel sorry for all of them at times. They had been ensnared as children by promises of glory and manhood, and now found themselves being rushed into an insatiable war that took no prisoners. Their youth was an advantage, they assured her—young Werists were the most deadly. She did not ask how many of them were likely to survive their first year in Florengia.

Cnurg smiled toothily. 'Not god, my lady! Goddess! Yes, I gave Her an outstanding offering.'

'Outstanding?' exclaimed Brarag, who had his back to Perag. 'Did you not hear the Nymphs laughing when they saw it?'

'On your feet, warriors!' Perag barked. 'Both of you!'

Cnurg and Brarag snapped upright and chorused, 'My lord is kind!'

He left them standing there. He was crazy.

Fabia fumed for a moment and then let rip. 'Pray inform me, Packleader, just how your men offended?'

'Mind your own business, slut.'

'Are you afraid a foolish joke will rot their fighting mettle, or do you think my smile will seduce them from their duty? Is your pettiness so deep that you cannot bear to think of men not being in mortal terror of you every second? Or are you just peevish because you did not sleep well last night?'

Perag glared at her, flushing. She could sense all the other Werists holding their breath. The huntleader