Fired Page 4

  He was so distracted by the changes his life had recently taken, both rapid and extreme, that he nearly walked into the woman before he saw her.

  She was standing with her back pressed up against a tree trunk. Since the woods were so dim and she was dressed in dark clothing, she seemed to be a part of the tree itself. In fact, he only realized she was there because she had reached out to him. Her arm was like a slim branch with fingers like twigs, but they grasped at Thorn’s cloak and twisted into the cloth. He stopped suddenly, caught more by fear than by force. He nearly lost his grip on Karyl and the horse as they moved past him. But he clutched onto Karyl’s cloak in turn and managed to haul them up short.

  On the other side of the horse and unable to see what had happened, Irae said, “What? What is it?”

  Thorn’s eyes were drawn upwards until they met those of the stranger. He was not conscious of much about her, as in the scarce light she wasn’t much more than a shape. He could see that her eyes were something different, something other. They were vivid in the unclear face and transfixed him like lightning.

  He tugged ineffectually at the fistful of cloak because words were not coming readily to his tongue. They were not coming at all, and there was a dry patch forming in his throat that made him think of weeks alone in the wilderness.

  “You’re making strange noises,” said Irae from behind him, and he heard a rustling as she made her way awkwardly around the front of the horse, still trying to hold on to Karyl. “What’s going on? Oh.”

  The oh was soft and involuntary. It sounded as though something hurt. Thorn wanted to look back at her but found that he could not. The stranger had him stuck, trapped. He didn’t like it.

  “You,” said the stranger.

  Her voice was as dark as the woods, and there were creatures scuttling around her that did not live in the forest.

  Thorn could hear Irae swallow hard.

  “Me,” she said.

  The stranger looked away from Thorn and he found that he could move again, without her gaze directly on him, weighing him down. He stepped back, standing close against the horse. His arm looped around Karyl’s ankle as much for his own protection as the ill man’s. He wished that there was more space, or light, so that he could undo his snare from its place wrapped around his left hand and arm. Then it might do some good as a sling. The most he could possibly do would be to trip her up if she came toward him, and even that was a distant hope rather than any sort of strategic plan.

  His sudden freedom of movement had disastrous consequences for Irae.

  The stranger stepped away from the tree. On her own she turned out to be even taller than Thorn had seen at first — had she been that tall to begin with? Surely not! No one could be that tall. She took a step, then two, and she was taller still. She was rivaling the trees themselves. He could not even make out her features in the face far above him, except her eyes, still glittering and vivid. She reached out to Irae, who was so far below the stranger that she had to bow down in a farce, a pastiche of the respect that the young queen should have commanded from any one of her subjects.

  Thorn assumed it was unlikely that the stranger, who must be Braeve, considered herself one of Queen Irae’s subjects.

  Irae was as transfixed as Thorn himself had been, mere seconds ago. All she could do as the impossibly tall stranger reached for her was watch. Her eyes were wide, the whites of them clear in the darkness. The fingertips of the stranger were nearly as white, a pale, unhealthy white of a fish belly, like something found underneath a rock.

  He thought, she must not touch her.

  In some desperation, he blurted out, “You took a vow of good!”

  The stranger stopped and stood still, her fingertips just short of Irae’s throat.

  She turned to look at him, and with her gaze removed from Irae, the young woman could move again. She took a quick step back, and another, nearly tripping over a root, and put her hand to her sword. But now Thorn was trapped in her gaze once again and could not move as the strange woman stepped toward him.

  It was not a trick of the light; she was less tall, somehow, as she came up to him. Still taller than he, but she could bend down only a little and look into his eyes. He flinched as she did so; it was like having a candle held up to his gaze and being forced to stare deeply into it.

  “Who are you, though?” she said. Her voice was the same and her eyes were the same, even as everything else about her seemed to be in a constant state of change. There was a questioning, wondering tone in her voice, now. “Where have you come from, and what do you know?”

  He swallowed ineffectually past the cotton-dry patch in his throat, tongue-less and mute, and she veiled her eyes quickly with her eyelids, in something more than a blink; something deliberate, to let him speak again.

  “Don’t hurt her,” he said. “You’ve taken a vow of good.”

  “Yes, so you reminded me.” Sharp teeth appeared, like a shark’s smile. He wasn’t entirely certain that they belonged to her mouth. “But who is it that decides what is good, and what is not? Perhaps hurting her would be good, in the truest of senses. Perhaps it could do more than you expect, funny little woodman.”

  Thorn swallowed. The desert in his throat was no less parched, but it was becoming easier to speak past it, with her allowance.

  “You tried to kill her before,” he managed, “and were prevented. You promised to alter your ways. If you try to kill her again, you can only end up being disappointed in what you promised yourself.”

  “Oh yes? And what is it that you think I have promised to myself?”

  The word fell out of his mouth before he could quite think about it.

  “Change,” he said.

  Braeve blinked rapidly and tipped her chin down, eyes searching him once again. If he was not mistaken, she looked somewhat taken aback.

  “How would you know,” she murmured. “That’s an easy guess. It’s something that everyone wants, isn’t it? To change oneself, to change others.” As she spoke, she grew impossibly tall for only an instant, then plunged downward again, impossibly small, a child next to a giant, a giant turned into a child, and she looked up at Thorn with those same star-lit eyes, trusting, but knowing.

  He opened his mouth.

  “Some want everything to always stay the same,” he said.

  The woman looked up at him, and suddenly she grew once more, until she was not much more than half a foot taller than he. This seemed to be the form and the height that she preferred, as she stayed put in it for more than five minutes altogether, much unlike any other form she had taken thus far.

  “You are very smart,” she said, “and I don’t just mean your outfit.”

  Thorn blinked at her, and she smiled at him. Her teeth looked a little bit more appropriately placed, this time. She put a hand on his shoulder, and though he tried to flinch away, he did nothing but move towards her involuntarily.

  “There, there,” she soothed him, and before he knew it she had put an arm around him. She spared a passing glance at the man on the horse, incuriously and without comment, and led Thorn to stand in front of Irae, who was watching them both with her eyes still wide.

  “Now, before I resume trying to kill you, how do you two know each other?” she said, practically beaming. “It’s clear that you’re here together — at least, it seems highly unlikely that you would both be walking into my forest, separated only by a dead man on a horse, and not be previously acquainted. Now, I know little Irae here — know her quite well, though she has grown somewhat since last we saw each other — and I must confess to being quite — er — impressed. Yes, impressed must be the word that I want. For, though it is true, as this strange young man has said, that I have taken a vow of good —” She shrugged eloquently. “Promises have been broken before. That is nothing new, and I am only human.”

  Thorn had his own doubts on this subject but decided that the course of wisdom would be to keep them to himself. Instead, still fighting to push
his voice past the dryness in his throat, he said, “My name is Thorn.”

  The strange woman threw her head back and pealed with laughter.

  “No!” she said. “It can’t possibly be. That is a ridiculous name. What are you, the hero of your own novel? No one names a child Thorn.” She shook her head. “No, no, my darling, you must have been named for your father, bless him, wherever he may be.” Thorn’s shoulders stiffened under her arm, but she didn’t seem to realize it. He knew it must be a shot in the dark — she couldn’t possibly have known — but it connected all the same. His father’s face appeared in the darkness of the woods, floating ghostly and pale, weaker than memory. He caught his breath.

  Irae threw him a swift glance, and the care in her eyes cut through the tension of the air and helped him draw a little hope.

  “But I will allow you to be called Thorn,” the stranger went on. “That is something quite different. And your throat must be quite sore — isn’t it? That’s one of the side effects of my illusions. In about half an hour you will have a headache, too, but there’s no avoiding it, I’m afraid. You will just have to come with me to my home and let me take care of you.” She stopped chatting cheerily and turned a darker glance on Irae. “You may bring her, I suppose,” she said. “As you came here together it is unlikely that you will leave her behind without some theatrics. Especially considering the name you call yourself by. Anyway, it will amuse me to consider how I could kill her, if I decided to.”

  “We didn’t come here for any of this,” said Irae stiffly. Thorn suspected she was trying desperately to hide her own fear; he could see it in her eyes. “We came here for help. For my friend.”

  She nodded at Karyl, still and silent on the horse, who was shifting uncomfortably from side to side. Perhaps the horse’s throat was parched and dry too, Thorn thought. Personally, he wanted to plunge into a running woodland brook and drink from it, right now, more than anything. Well, more than almost anything — getting out of this odd situation alive and intact was high up on his list as well.

  “Your friend, the dead man,” said the stranger, casting Karyl a cursory glance and dismissing him. “I’m an illusionist, not a miracle worker.”

  “He is not dead.”

  “He might as well be. Look.” She released Thorn and stepped away from him, to his great relief, but only to take Karyl’s wrist, raise it, and let it fall again, which it did with no resistance whatsoever. It was true; it did look as though he were dead.

  “I know that you can help him,” said Irae tightly. “You have gifts beyond what most do — you’ve done so much for —”

  Braeve watched her avidly.

  “For,” she prompted. “Go on. Go on with what you were saying. For whom?”

  “My uncle the traitor,” said Irae. It spilled out of her, as though she couldn’t help herself. She braced herself immediately afterward— Thorn could see her square her shoulders, raise her chin, get herself ready— but Braeve only gave her another smile.

  “Yes,” she said softly, “your uncle. And what makes you begin to think that I might turn and help out someone from your cause?”

  “Because you took a vow of good,” said Irae, swallowing hard, “and because my uncle never loved you.”

  The smile faltered — Thorn could see it as clearly as he could see her eyes, which were the clearest thing in the woods. The smile faltered and tottered and then turned and re-steadied itself, regained its confidence, re-aligned to where it was meant to be, and she was smiling as though she had not a care in the world once more.

  “My dear,” she said, “I do pity you. As that is not how love works. But since you clearly have never felt love for anyone, nor had it truly offered to you, I can only allow you the space in which to believe your own wrong ideas and learn. That is the greatest help that I can give to you.”

  “Karyl,” said Irae firmly. “I don’t care what you want to do to me. But you must help Karyl. Plot to kill me — fine — plan all you like, if it amuses you, but you must, you must follow through on your vow.”

  If her throat was anywhere near as dry as Thorn’s was, speaking so much must have been hurting her. Braeve tilted her head to one side, and for a moment Thorn thought that she was rethinking her assessment; but the princess was still pushing, and Braeve didn’t have a moment to consider the situation at all.

  “Fine,” said the strange woman, cutting Irae off as she continued in her exhortation. “If only to keep you quiet, child. Take hold of the reins and lead him on. I’ll see what I can do.” She turned away from Irae abruptly and slung her arm around Thorn’s shoulders once more. Her embrace was cold rather than warm, and he felt shivers all the way down his spine. “Your man here and I will walk on ahead.”

  Thorn was reasonably certain that he heard Irae mutter something about him not being her man, but the ever-changing Braeve had towed him along in her wake and was not letting him assist Irae with Karyl and the horse. He cast a glance over his shoulder, but Irae would not meet his eyes.

  “Thorn,” said Braeve. “Thorn, the strange woodman.”

  He stumbled over a root, but she caught him as though he weighed nothing, and set him back on his feet.

  “Why do you call me that?”

  “Thorn, your chosen name,” Brave recited. She dropped her arm from him, and he felt the comparative warmth of the woods seep back in, taking up residence under his shoulder blades. “Strange, because —” She trailed off, but flipped his hair back away from the side of his face and his neck, revealing the scar-ridged holes where his ears should have been. He tried to sidestep her, but she moved too swiftly, and he was not expecting it. He turned away from her, embarrassed even in front of this strangeling. He had myriad flaws and he was keenly aware of them all, but his deformity was the most easily seen; that was why he wore his hair long to try and hide it.

  How had she known?

  “And a woodman,” Braeve went on, walking a little more quickly now, “because I have rarely seen someone so comfortable in my forest. Tell me truly, Thorn — you’ve spent a great deal of time in the woods, have you not?”

  “Not these woods,” said Thorn heavily.

  “Of course not!” Braeve snorted. “These woods are mine. No one stays here unless I allow them to; and I do not allow many. Practically none, so you may as well forget about it. Who else is with you?”

  Thorn cast her a swift glance in consternation.

  “How did you know that there are others with us?”

  “I didn’t, until just now,” said Braeve. “But it seemed a reasonable thing to conclude.”

  She seemed mightily pleased with herself but didn’t press him for an answer. Instead, she led him on all the more swiftly. They passed through the woods so quickly that it seemed like they were standing still, and the trees were running lithely past on either side.

  “You followed her here,” she said, when they had gone a bit further. Thorn looked forward again, away from Irae and Karyl behind him, and assented. He had, in fact, followed her here. “I don’t suppose she’s told you who I am.”

  “Braeve,” he said. “At least, I have guessed that this is who you are. Not that we have been formally introduced, but that is who we came here to find.”

  “And has she told you what I’ve done?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ah. And you followed her still?”

  He swallowed. “Yes.”

  “Ah,” said Braeve, and she seemed to grow a little taller, a little thinner, until he had the distinct feeling that he was walking with one of the trees themselves.

  “Do you still want to kill her?” he asked.

  “Yes,” said Braeve. “Oh, yes.”

  “Why?”

  “You’ve met her, haven’t you?”

  This, Thorn thought, was a non-answer.

  Suddenly she came to a halt, and they were at the edge of a small clearing. The trees around the edges of it were smaller than those they had been passing through, but apart from that
it was as though the woods had just given up abruptly — or been stopped along their growth by something stronger than they were.

  In the center of the clearing was a small hut made out of rough-cut branches.

  She led them towards it without a moment’s hesitation, utterly the mistress of her domain. Thorn examined it thoroughly, finding that it triggered acute memories of his own little hut in the woods. Home seemed long ago and far away at the moment, but he found some comfort in the idea that he was not the only one who lived alone in the woods. It was cold comfort but there nonetheless.

  There was an opening with no door. She stopped at it at last and turned to nod at Irae. Her features in the brighter light were still strangely vague and blurred, as though caught halfway between a change in emotions: a smile to a sob, a scream to a laugh. But she did not display any trace of the anger with which she had initially greeted the princess.

  “You can bring him in here, and I’ll take a look at him.”

  She disappeared inside, leaving Thorn and Irae to look at each other and Karyl. It seemed unlikely in the extreme that they would be able to get him down unassisted. They had scarcely been able to manage it even with Ruben to help. Irae shook her head and wrapped her hands around Karyl’s wrist.

  “He isn’t dead,” she said. “She is wrong.”

  “But he will be if she doesn’t help soon. How are we going to get him down?”

  “Down will be easier than up,” said Irae.

  “But we can’t hope to get him down gently.”

  “We’ll have to do our best won’t we.” Her tone was brief, and he knew that she was not as cool as she was trying to pretend to be. She tugged at Karyl’s arm, and Thorn leaped forward to try and take as much of his weight into his arms as he could.

  But the weight lifted from him, suddenly, and when he looked up he saw that Braeve was between them, as large as Karyl himself — larger. She wrapped her arms around him, tall and broad and strong, and lifted him as easily as though he were a child.

  “If I have to do everything,” she said, and carried him into the little hut.