Tigana by Guy Kay (novel24 txt) 📕

like this evening’s work at all. We have nothing to give you beyond our weapons. Or our lives, if you are the sort who kill for pleasure.’

‘Sometimes,’ the man named Ducas said, not raising his voice. He sounded unsettlingly calm, Devin thought, and very much in control of his band. ‘Will my two men die? Do you use poisoned arrows?’

Alessan’s expression was contemptuous. ‘Not even against the Barbadians. Why? Do you?’

‘Sometimes,’ the outlaw leader said again. ‘Especially against the Barbadians. These are the highlands, after all.’ He smiled for the first time, a cold, wolfish grin. Devin had a sudden sense that he wouldn’t want to have this man’s memories, or his dreams.

Alessan said nothing. It was growing darker in the pass. Devin saw him glance over at Erlein, a sharp query in his face. The wizard shook his head, a minute, almost invisible gesture. ‘Too many,’ he whispered. ‘And besides—’

‘The grey-haired one is a wizard!’ came an emphatic voice from the line beyond Ducas.

A chunky, round-faced man moved his horse forward beside the leader’s. ‘Don’t even think of it,’ he continued, looking straight at Erlein. ‘I could block anything you tried.’ Startled, Devin glanced at the man’s hands, but at this distance it was too dark for him to see if two fingers were missing. They would have to be though.

They had come upon another wizard; much good it would do them.

‘And precisely how long do you think it would take a Tracker to find you then?’ Erlein was saying, his voice silken. ‘With the backspill of magic from the both of us leading to this place?’

‘There are a sufficiency of arrows trained on your heart and throat,’ the leader interjected, ‘to ensure that such an event would not happen. But I confess this grows more interesting every moment. An archer and a wizard riding abroad on an Ember Day. Aren’t you afraid of the dead? What does the boy do?’

‘I’m a singer,’ Devin said grimly. ‘Devin d’Asoli, lately from the company of Menico di Ferraut, if that means anything to you.’ The thing, obviously, was to keep the talk going somehow. And he had heard stories—wishful thinking on the road, perhaps—of outlaw bands sparing musicians in exchange for a night of song. Something occurred to him: ‘You thought we were Barbadians, didn’t you? From a distance. That’s why you laid the trap.’

‘A singer. A clever singer,’ Ducas murmured. ‘If not clever enough to stay indoors on an Ember Day. Of course we thought you were Barbadians. Who in the eastern peninsula but Barbadians and outlaws would be abroad today? And all of the outlaws for twenty miles around are part of my band.’

‘There are outlaws and outlaws,’ Alessan said softly. ‘But if you were hunting Barbadian mercenaries you are men with the same hearts as ours. I can tell you—and I do not lie, Ducas—that if you hinder us here, or kill us, you will be giving such comfort to Barbadior—and to Ygrath—as they could not have ever dreamt of asking of you.’ There was, not surprisingly, a silence. The cold wind knifed into the pass, stirring the young grasses in the growing dark.

‘You have a rather large opinion of yourself, it appears,’ Ducas said at length, thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps I should know why. I think it is time for you to tell me exactly who you are, and where you are riding at dusk on an Ember Day, and I will draw my own conclusions.’

‘My name is Alessan. I am riding west. My mother is dying and has summoned me to her side.’

‘How devoted of you,’ Ducas said. ‘But one name tells me nothing, and west is a big place, my friend with the bow. Who are you and where are you riding?’ The voice was an uncoiled whip this time. Devin jumped. Behind Ducas seven bowstrings were drawn back.

Devin, his heart pounding, saw Alessan hesitate. The sun was almost gone now, a red disk cut in half by the horizon beyond the pass. The wind seemed to be blowing harder, promising a chilly night to come after this first day of spring.

There was a chill in Devin as well. He glanced at Erlein, and discovered that the wizard was staring at him, as if waiting. Alessan had not yet spoken. Ducas shifted meaningfully in his saddle.

Devin swallowed and, knowing that however hard this was for him, it had to be easier than it would be for Alessan, he said: ‘Tigana. He is from Tigana, and so am I.’

He was careful to look straight at the outlaw wizard as he spoke, not at Ducas or the other riders. He saw out of the corner of his eye that Alessan was doing the same thing, so as not to have to see the blank look of incomprehension they both knew would follow. The wizard would be different. Wizards could hear the name.

A murmur rose from the gathered men, before them and behind. And then one man spoke aloud amid the shadows of falling dusk in that lonely place. A voice from the line behind them.

‘By the blood of the god!’ that voice cried from the heart. Devin wheeled around. A man had dismounted and was striding quickly forward to stand in front of them. Devin saw that the man was small, not much bigger than himself, perhaps thirty years old or a little more, and that he was moving awkwardly and clearly in pain, with Alessan’s arrow in his arm.

Ducas was looking at his wizard. ‘Sertino, what is this?’ he said, with an edge in his voice. ‘I do not—’

‘Sorcery,’ the wizard said bluntly.

‘What? His?’ Ducas nodded towards Erlein.

‘No, not his.’ It was the wounded man who spoke, his eyes never leaving Alessan’s face. ‘Not this poor wizard’s. It is real sorcery, this. It is the power of Brandin of Ygrath that keeps you from hearing the name.’

With an angry motion Ducas swept his hat off, revealing a balding dome with a fringe of bright red hair. ‘And you,