Chapter 5 #2
“Quite true,” she said. “One of them’s by Bausa of Chasetz, who knew almost as much about demonology as he did about extracting copper.
” She turned her head and smiled at me. “It’s perfectly simple and straightforward,” she said, “once you pare away all the mumbo-jumbo. Of course, you don’t happen to have one of those books handy, do you? ”
“Not right now.”
“Ain’t that the way. You leave home thinking you’ve got everything you could possibly need, and it turns out that the one thing you actually want is still back home on your bedside table.
Of course,” she went on, looking straight up at the sky, “there’s always the risk of collateral damage.
You know, the unwanted guest not going quietly.
I’m afraid a lot of the leading authors take a rather robust view on that score.
If you kill the host while getting rid of the pest, that’s omelettes and eggs.
Good omelettes, because the host goes straight to heaven.
She’ll forgive you,” she added. “Even if it means she’s left practically a vegetable.
She honestly believes that martyrdom is the most blessed outcome a human being can attain.
Personally, I think that’s barbaric. But it’s not up to me, is it? ”
I was losing the battle. Every move I made opened up a new avenue of vulnerability. “How would it be,” I said, “if you just told me what you want me to do, and then I do it?”
“That,” she said solemnly, “would be peachy.”
“Deal,” I said.
She yawned. “Only, let’s talk about all that in the morning.
I don’t know about you, but she’s bushed.
She’s had a long day, she’s exhausted and undernourished, she’s been killed and resurrected, which really depletes your energy levels, and, to be honest with you, I do tend to take it out of her rather.
Hosting me burns up the calories at an alarming rate, did you know that?
Sorry, you don’t know what that means. Just think of it as eating for two, like when you’re pregnant.
Anyhow, right now she needs to sleep.” Her eyes closed.
“I’ll still be here, of course,” she added, “because I never sleep, but it’d be a kindly act on your part if you didn’t disturb her. See you in the morning.”
“Fine. Just one more thing.”
“What?”
I took a moment to frame the question. “All that stuff back in Angkola,” I said. “All the killing. And the salt traders. That was you, wasn’t it?”
She pursed her lips. “Oh dear.” she said.
“It was you.”
“Up to a point.”
“Don’t piss me around. It was you. Say it.”
Sigh. “Up to a point,” she repeated. “The fact is, she’s a violent woman.
It’s part of her passionate nature. I’m not saying that, left to her own devices, she’d have slaughtered nine innocent traders just for the fun of it.
But let’s just say the muscle memory made my job a heck of a lot easier.
” Her eyes opened and she looked at me. “And maybe,” she went on, “if you’d been the one who opened the book instead of her, quite possibly there’d be fewer bodies on the ground and maybe a bit less ash floating in the air.
Who knows? It happened the way it happened.
And it absolutely wasn’t your fault. It’s important that you understand that.
You are unequivocally not to blame. You have my word on that. ”
“Fuck you,” I said.
I didn’t get much sleep, for some reason. So instead I lay there in the dark, sometimes with my eyes shut, sometimes with them open, trying to figure out what to do next. No dice. It was like trying to cut through an iron bar with a copper saw.
Funny thing about lying awake all night worrying yourself to death. Just before dawn, nine times out of ten you fall asleep. “Wake up, sleepyhead,” she said loudly in my ear.
“Go to hell,” I said.
“Been there. It’s nothing special, believe me.” She was standing over me, her feet planted on either side of my shoulders. I think the idea was that from there I could look right up her skirt. I closed my eyes. “No? Suit yourself. Don’t pretend you haven’t speculated.”
“Please,” I said, “leave me alone.”
“Begging. That’s what I like to hear. Fine. I’ll stop teasing you, in return for your cooperation. Deal?”
“No,” I said, and lifted myself up on my elbows, forcing her to move away. “I said, didn’t I? Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”
“So you did. But where’s the fun in that? Sorry,” she added, and held out a hand to help me up, which I ignored. “Well,” she went on, “we need to get back home, as quickly as possible. Mother Tysapherna will be expecting us.”
I stood up. I had pins and needles in my right foot. “That’s a point,” I said. “She’ll be expecting you in book form, and you aren’t, are you? You’ve screwed up. You’ve failed.”
“There are plenty of books,” she said. “We’ll have to pick one up along the way. No big deal, we’ve got lots of money.”
So we had. To get it, she’d killed nine men, and their bodies were still littering up the highway. If someone came along and saw them before we got too far, maybe we could get arrested. But that would only give her an opportunity for more killing.
“Sorry,” she said. “While you were asleep, I tidied up. The cart’s at the bottom of a ravine, with all the bodies aboard. There I was, slaving away while you were away in Dreamland. Only goes to prove what they say. No rest for the wicked.”
“What a busy little beaver you are,” I said.
“It’s nice to be active again, after all those years stuck in a book. Nothing against the contemplative life, you understand, but I’m more of a doer than a reader-about-doing. So’s she, of course. Actually, she and I have a lot in common. Which is cool. She fits me like a glove.”
Patience. The other cheek. And, when the opportunity eventually presented itself, implacable revenge. Meanwhile, I tried to remind myself that the tormentor looks for a reaction. “Fine,” I said. “So let’s go.”
“Good boy,” she said. “Do as you’re told, and we’ll get along very well.”
We got the horses. When she tried to mount hers, it shied and tried to break away.
I had to hold its head while she climbed up.
Once she was on it, the poor thing tried to buck and rear for a while, and then it gave up.
“Sensible animal,” she said. “It knows it can’t win.
It’s good to be back in the saddle again. I’ve always loved horseback riding.”
I don’t. I have to do a lot of it these days, but even now, I prefer to hold onto the saddle with one hand.
“The sensible thing,” she said, as we rejoined the road, “would be to follow this all the way to the Devil’s Chair, then take the Grand Trunk north to Visbach.
From there, we can cut off a big loop by going overland, provided we can cross the Grametz at Eigers Ford. What do you think?”
“I have absolutely no opinion on the matter.”
“You’re going to sulk,” she said. “I hate sulking. If you sulk, I’ll poke out her left eye. She only really needs one, after all.”
I felt that cold, weak feeling, the one you can’t ignore. I didn’t actually piss myself, but I felt my bladder loosen. “Fine,” I said. “You win. What do you want me to do?”
“Be yourself,” she said. “You know, chirpy, argumentative, wisecracks, being endearingly annoying. She likes it, secretly. She enjoys the games, the rubbing each other up the wrong way, the flirtation.” She grinned at me.
“Play your cards right, you could be in there. Just friendly advice, that’s all,” she said.
“Plus it’s ten points to me if I get you two to break your sacred vows. ”
I don’t believe in God, or the devil, or Good and Evil.
I’ve read all the arguments, the so-called proofs, but I simply can’t bring myself to swallow it all.
I know I’m right, because at that moment, if anything could have persuaded me of the existence of Evil, it would’ve been her, grinning at me through Svangerd’s beautiful, unattainable face.
Instead, I saw a really nasty piece of work, hurting me because it could.
But that was small-e evil, which isn’t the same thing at all.
I genuinely believe that. Which reminds me of the bit in scripture where the man begging for a miracle prays: “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief.”
Travelling with the devil isn’t exactly fun, but there are a few minor advantages.
How it knew what it did I have no idea, but it knew everything – which bridges were broken, which rivers were in spate, which mountain passes were blocked, which roads had been washed away, where the bandits were operating.
It was the sort of information that you have access to if you’re a courier for one of the five or so really big, organised merchant companies, and, even then, it’s likely to be a week or so out of date.
Svangerd knew what had happened the day before yesterday.
To begin with, I made a big show of not believing a word of it. The fourth time we arrived at a ford and found a raging torrent, she smirked at me and said, “Well?”
“Fine,” I said. “Somehow you know this stuff. Which doesn’t mean—”