The Cursed Read online

  "I'm sorry, Kodi! Really sorry. I went too fast."

  After a moment she found her voice again. "I'm sorry too, Polion. I should have stopped you sooner. Good night."

  "Kodi! You mustn't leave me like this. I'm all hot and ready, Kodi."

  There was no answer.

  Polion flopped over onto his back and wiped his forehead with his free hand. Fates! He was really going to hurt this time! Could an Ivielscath cure hot crotch? How could a man even ask her?

  In a little while he realized that she had gone to sleep on his arm, pinning him there. For a long time after that he lay and chewed his lip, sweating out the sick agony in his groin. Niad slept alongside. From time to time he caught glimpses of Muol's red glow through the branches and heard a persistent rustling somewhere in the bushes.

  24

  Bulion reined in Thunder at the top of the slope. The land fell away gently to the woods—scattered oak trees and dense broom, an oasis of deep green within the drab and rocky moor. Beyond that lay the pond. He had come in from upwind, so that the horses would not scent the water. There was no sign of human life, other than his companions. A cool wind ruffled the scrub and coarse grass around the horses' hooves.

  "We'll take a break now," he said, "then find the Jaulscath." Gwin nodded and slid from her saddle at the same moment he did. Others copied them as they arrived.

  He was not looking forward to the coming encounter, but he was the leader and he must attend to it himself. The invitation was his to give. He would go alone, of course. He was not going to let anyone else listen to his thoughts. They would include all the wonderful private things that had happened in the night, and worse revelations, like his own miserable, lingering doubts, his sense of being unworthy of a strong young beauty like Gwin, his fear that she had lied to him, his secret knowledge that she was penniless. There—he had started already!

  Gwin had gone to sit on a boulder. Bulion removed Thunder's saddle and laid it on the scrub. When he straightened, he saw that Polion was alongside and no one else was within earshot. The chance to tease was irresistible.

  "You're keeping an eye open for trouble, I hope?"

  Alarm leaped into the sharp eyes. "What sort of trouble, Grandfather?"

  "Wildlife. Last night I thought I heard some rustling in the bushes around the camp."

  The lad colored, uncertain how to react, but he held his grandfather's gaze steadily. "I thought I did too."

  Impudent brat! Good for him! He would never be half Jukion's size, and Nondion was taller already, but Polion was the only one of Brankion's line with any real spark. Pity about his promiscuity! Could there be something admirable in such incredible skill, even if it was applied in such a base cause? Or was that merely an old man's envy speaking?

  "Well, we couldn't both be mistaken, could we?" Bulion said. "You've been spending a lot of time with Niad Bilith. Are you engaged yet?"

  Polion flinched. "We haven't known each other very—"

  Bulion scowled his fiercest patriarchal glower. He would not believe that his grandson had confined himself to counting stars with the girl last night. In the code of the Tharns, a man committed himself when he lay with a woman. "Some people decide what they want very quickly."

  "Um. I'm not sure she'll have me."

  His reluctance was understandable. He was too young, far too young. Bulion could remember his own resentment when he had been married off at sixteen. But his first marriage had been a good one, and he had applied the same treatment to his own children and all the youngsters—tie them down, start them breeding as soon as possible. Callous, yes, but the family was what mattered and he had made it grow quickly. Numbers were important, safety in numbers. There had been surprisingly few failures among those premature bondings.

  "She's a fine girl, son, and a real beauty besides. I doubt you'll ever find a better, and her healing gift will make her precious to all of us. Gwin and I will be marrying in a day or two. Why don't you and your lovely bride make a double wedding of it?"

  Polion licked his lips, showing panic as the jaws of matrimony opened before him. "I'll have to ask Niad."

  "That's the right answer! Talk it over with her and let her decide."

  Bulion released Thunder to go and roll. Leaving the rest of the men to finish dealing with the horses, he walked across to join Gwin on the boulder. He was tired! He had not enjoyed an unbroken night's sleep in weeks. The women had settled on the grass, making Gwin look like a queen on her throne, surrounded by her entourage. A fitting simile! Elim and Aneim were opening the provender bags and passing out the contents.

  "Bulion?"

  "Yes, love?"

  "Let me go deal with the Jaulscath." Gwin shook her head as he began to protest. "A woman should deal with a woman, and she must be from Daling, like me. I may even know her! Did anyone get her name?"

  He felt a twinge of relief and then guilt because of it. "Are you quite sure?" It was an automatic response and she must know that. He did not think he could hide much from this perceptive, bewitching love of his.

  "Quite sure." Her dark eyes were solemn, but if she was frightened, she was hiding the fact so completely that he could almost believe that she wasn't.

  "That's brave of you! She may not be there, of course. But if you ride well ahead of the rest of us, you can signal as soon as you get within range. Then the rest of us will stop and wait."

  Gwin accepted a roll and fruit from Kathim. "Thank you! I'll take one of the spare horses?"

  "Right. And if she wants to follow us, then leave it for her. Tether it, of course. Tell her to make sure she stays well back! We'll see she has shelter and food and everything—inside the valley, but out of range of the houses. There's a spring."

  "I'll tell her. And I'll tell her about Raragash, too."

  A shadow loomed over them. "Bulion, why are you meddling with the Jaulscath?"

  That aggressive growl could only be Himion's. More shadows joined the first. Bulion glanced around and saw that just about all the men had moved in to listen. Himion wore his usual scowl, but the faces behind him were frowning also.

  Bulion eased himself around to face the group, although that put the sun in his eyes. He was sitting and they were all standing. He saw that he had a minor mutiny on his hands.

  Trouble in the family usually collected around Himion. That was fortunate, because Himion was slow of wit and not very popular. He was the oldest after Bulion himself, Mogion's firstborn. At times he seemed to think that he had a birthright to rule the clan. If he had possessed more brains and even a trace of charm, he might have managed to convince some of the others. He had never been able to collect a following, though. Not so far.

  Few Tharns were handsome, but Himion had all the worst family traits in excess—his head was too big, his face was all brows and nose and jaw, his shoulders and chest were too thick. In his case, his arms were a fraction too long and his legs too short. Lately his beard had turned white and his mustache stayed black, curving down in points to his jaw like a perpetual pout.

  Bulion decided he should have explained more carefully. "She can be valuable to us. We'll set her up with a cottage near the trail and she can act as sentry. No enemy can sneak past a Jaulscath!"

  "Why should anyone try?" Himion snarled.

  "Times are troubled. We've been left in peace ever since we came to the valley, but that isn't going to last much longer."

  His nephew's simian brows drooped lower. "So what can a mind reader do about it? She'll cause trouble! You saw what happened here two days ago."

  "As long as she's out of range, she won't. We can go around her, but strangers coming in will—"

  Wosion's harsh voice intervened. "Father, that's nonsense! If we always go around her, we'll just set up a new trail, and invaders can use that one. If a large force comes against us, they can sneak in from any direction, over the hills. If a small group comes, pretending to be peaceful visitors, then the Jaulscath may know otherwise, but they'll sense her just
as she senses them—and what do we have to fear from a small band, anyway? It's nonsense!"

  Heads nodded in agreement.

  Well! Argument from Wosion was much more serious than any of Himion's surly objections. This was real rebellion, and the pastor had made a good case already.

  "You're the expert in the old ways," Bulion said, "so you tell us. The Zarda honored the Cursed. They used Jaulscaths as judges in disputes, and—"

  "What disputes? We're only a family, not a tribe. You really want a Jaulscath meddling? A woman suspects her husband of infidelity and takes him to the mind reader? We don't need this, Father!"

  Bulion's instincts told him he had made an error and should back down quickly. That was not something he had been required to do very often, but there were times when it was the wisest course. Now, with his new bride beside him, he felt a surge of stubbornness.

  He glanced around the surly faces, noting who could meet his eye and who couldn't. There was more to this dispute than just the Jaulscath. Wosion looked very sure of himself. He and Himion must have simmered this up between them during the ride, while their doddering Old Man had been too engrossed in his courting to notice.

  "You sound like the Qolians! That poor woman has been driven out like a rabid dog. We Zarda have always honored the Cursed."

  Wosion's ferrety face flushed with anger. "We always recognized that they were dangerous, too! And it isn't just one Jaulscath. There's an Ivielscath involved—"

  "The girl who saved my life? Are you suggesting we spurn her also?"

  "Let him finish, Uncle!" Himion snarled. "There's a lot more."

  "Oh there is, is there?" Bulion was tempted to stand up, and then decided that he would be wiser to stay on his rock like a king on a throne. They were the petitioners.

  "Yes there is," Wosion said. "That Wraxal man is a Muolscath!"

  Everyone looked to where Wraxal Raddaith sat alone and apart on a mossy boulder, gazing blankly at the horizon. His deliberate solitude was inhuman, eerie.

  "What makes you think so?"

  "I asked him. He told me. He also told me that Gwin Solith knows this. Did she not tell you?"

  If she had not told him, then she was untrustworthy. If she had, then Bulion had not told his son. That was what was bothering the pastor. Gwin had turned around also, so that she was facing the same way Bulion was. He put an arm around her.

  "Yes, she told me."

  The onlookers exchanged angry glances.

  Wosion's eyes glinted. "And you did not warn us? A Muolscath is deadly. If he wants, he can inspire us with blood lust and set us all to fighting one another! He could provoke all kinds of trouble."

  "Why should he?" Bulion knew the question was an error as soon as he asked it.

  "He happens to be the nephew of the governor of Daling! If you are looking for enemies in these troubled times of yours, then why invite a Muolscath into the valley?"

  "The Zarda—"

  "Stop talking about our ancestors! In those days, our people lived in scattered tribes. Outbreaks of star sickness were quickly isolated and contained, so the Cursed were very rare. Daling is a big city. Hundreds were afflicted, and now we have at least three Cursed to think about. Who is doing this to us? Who is behind it?"

  A faint stirring in the group warned Bulion that the dispute was now moving onto even more dangerous ground, but he did not know what might be lurking up ahead. He would be Cursed himself before he would back down in front of Gwin.

  "Why do you say 'who?' The fates themselves determine our destinies."

  "The fates may work through human agents."

  "And why do you say at least three?"

  "Who is the Ivielscath?" the pastor asked quietly.

  "Who?" Bulion searched for Niad Bilith and saw her standing on the edge of the group, watching with big, frightened eyes. Polion had an arm around her. Those two would not have been part of this conspiracy. "What are you implying, Son?"

  "Gwin Solith lost her children to the star sickness," Wosion said. "Hundreds of people were dying, the city was in a panic. But Gwin Solith set up her hostel as a hospital for the afflicted, and nursed them. That was a very rash thing to do, wasn't it?"

  "She is a brave and compassionate woman."

  "Compassionate, yes. But perhaps she did not need to be brave? Could it not be that she had contracted the sickness herself, at the same time as her children did, and then recovered, as they did not?"

  Bulion felt Gwin stir as if about to speak. "Wait!" he said. "Let's see the whole worm before we bite. What are you implying?"

  Wosion turned and beckoned to Niad. "Come here, child."

  She came, walking timorously, with Polion strutting aggressively alongside, keeping his arm tight around her. Onlookers parted to let them through. The pastor smiled at her, but it was not the sort of smile to reassure a frightened adolescent.

  "When you heal people, do you feel anything, Niad?"

  "Feel, Saj?"

  "Feel!" he repeatedly brusquely. "Can you sense your powers at work?"

  She shook her head, setting her two golden bunches flapping like huge ears.

  "Then how do you know you are an Ivielscath?"

  The big, scared blue eyes turned toward Gwin. It was Polion who answered.

  "The cook at the hostel cut her hand, and Niad—"

  "I want to hear it from her!" Wosion snapped. "When you healed that cut, was Gwin Saj present?"

  Niad nodded mutely.

  "She was present when you cured my father? And the others hurt in the fight? Child, have you ever healed anyone when Gwin Solith was not present?"

  "Oh, that is ridiculous!" Bulion barked.

  His son grimaced at him, and Bulion was astonished to see that the pastor's bluster was hiding real fear. If Wosion was so disturbed, then what must the others be feeling?

  "Is it, Father? When the man abducting Solith fell dead, who was closest to him?"

  Gwin herself, of course. "But if she is the healer, then..." No, that was not true. If Niad was not conscious of working her miracles, there was no reason why Gwin might not be working them instead and be equally unaware of doing so. Or know it, and be lying to them all. Bulion would not believe that of her, but these others might.

  "May I answer now?" Gwin said quietly.

  He glanced sideways at her. Her expression was grim, but not frightened. "If you wish. You don't have to."

  She spoke to Himion. "You want to know if I've been Cursed?"

  "Yes! Did you catch the star sickness?"

  "I don't believe so. I certainly never had the rash. I felt terrible the night my babies died, but I think that was just grief, and shock."

  Himion squirmed, glanced uncomfortably at Wosion in search of support, then sneered. "You nursed the afflicted when you had never been infected yourself? That's madness!"

  Bulion felt Gwin shudder. "Yes it was. I wanted to catch it, you see. First my husband, then my children. I was very angry at the fates. I was daring them to do their worst and take me also."

  In the appalled silence that followed, Bulion said, "But you did not catch it?"

  She continued to speak to Himion. "I honestly don't think I did. I can't prove I didn't, of course. Star sickness is usually quite obvious—Niad had blue spots from head to toe. Her whole family died of it. Many people fled from the city during the epidemic. Did refugees ever try to enter the valley, Himion Saj?"

  "Some," he muttered.

  "And what did you do?"

  "We sent them away," Wosion said. "The old rules of hospitality did not apply when there was star sickness about."

  "How? How did you send them away?" Still she spoke to the older man, and now Bulion guessed why. She was shrewd, Gwin Solith!

  Himion scowled, which was an alarming sight with his face. "We sent out a band of armed men, held them off, left food and blankets if they needed them. We warned them to be gone within two days."

  "Were you ever one of those armed men?"

  "Yes."


  "Then you must have been fairly close to some of them. You might have caught it too."

  "Never!" he roared, alarmed. Several of the others mumbled agreement—those who had ever been part of the expulsion squads, of course.

  Unexpectedly, Gwin laughed. "Oh yes! If I could have caught it and not known, so could you! I admit it's highly unlikely. You would have infected others, and some of those would have displayed the rash. I'm just showing you where such arguments can lead."

  Wosion shouted, "Don't joke about it!"

  "I am not joking. Nor is Himion Saj."

  Shrewd, shrewd! Gwin was insisting on making this Himion's mutiny. She had already seen that Himion was much less likely to attract support than Wosion was. She was leaving Wosion the option of dissociating himself from the revolt.

  "I suppose it's possible," Bulion said cheerfully. "I suppose someone could be an Ivielscath and not know it. When we get home, we can easily find out which one of these fair ladies is our healer."

  Wosion was not ready to strike his colors. He glanced around to see if his supporters were still in agreement. "But you concede that Gwin Solith may have contracted the star sickness also, and may have been Cursed by Iviel?"

  Bulion hugged Gwin closer. "It is just barely possible."

  "But then it is also possible that Niad is the Ivielscath and Solith was Cursed by one of the other fates!"

  So that was it—Muolscath! They thought Gwin was Cursed by the Passionate One. Their once-honored Old Man was making an idiot of himself over a woman forty years his junior. Last night he had been fooling around in the bushes and they suspected he had been bewitched. Was that worse than just being a dotard? Looking around the circle of frightened faces, he knew that Himion could not have instigated this. Only Wosion could have worked it all out, and his argument was pretty much unanswerable.

  "What are you suggesting, Son?"

  "That we have at least three Cursed to worry about, and possibly four. We are only a big family, Father, not a tribe or nation. One we might handle. One we might take in and cherish in the ways of the Zarda. But four is too many!"

  Bulion stood up. He had had enough.