The Cursed Read online

  "Who punched him?"

  "Um. I did."

  Polion clutched the statue for support. The world was rocking. Or if it wasn't, it must be about to. "You did?" He could not recall Jukion ever doing anything like that.

  "Yes."

  "Congratulations. Two weeks on the woodpile!"

  "Aw, you know how I enjoy chopping wood, Polion."

  Yes, there was that. The pastor would not take his switch to a grown man, either, and there were none more grown than Jukion.

  "Look," the ox said, suddenly earnest. "You wanna go visit a whorehouse?"

  Polion gulped. Even more epoch-making! "Would be nice."

  "Come on, then. It'll have to be tonight, and before Aunt Elim gets you under her thumb, too."

  Better not to bring Aunt Elim into this. "I can't go until I've cleaned up!"

  "Why not?" Jukion demanded, seizing Polion's shoulder with sudden inspiration. "Come on, I'll take you." He headed unsteadily for the corridor.

  "But—" Polion said, his feet scrabbling to catch up with the rest of him. When Jukion said move, one moved. "But I'm covered with—"

  "Don't matter!" Jukion threw a door aside and swept his brother out into the darkness with him—and onward. "It's not far. What you do is ask for the hot tub special." He set a blistering pace along the black street, apparently steering by instinct, and more or less carrying Polion. The door slammed in the distance behind them.

  "A what?"

  "They have big coppers, with fires to keep the water hot. The girls wash you. All in the water together. Scented soap."

  "You've done this?"

  "Well, I've watched. I preferred the beds. It was before I was married, of course!"

  Fates! Polion was always mildly surprised when his damp-eared brother managed to sire children with such astonishing regularity. To imagine him participating in some sort of orgy in his youth was mind-boggling, a totally new view of Jukion. It also conjured up visions even more tantalizing than Polion had ever been able to imagine on his own.

  Were this anyone else, he might suspect a leg-pull. People were always picking on him for some reason, making him the butt of stupid practical jokes, but Jukion never would. All that part of the family talent had gone elsewhere.

  "Of course I'll leave you at the door. I mean, Shupyim might ask, and I couldn't lie to her."

  That sounded more like Jukion! "How many girls?" Polion demanded breathlessly. His heart was drumming like a woodpecker already.

  "All you can handle."

  "What does this hot tub special cost?"

  "Don't worry. The treat's on me. Father paid for me the first time."

  "Father was there?"

  "Um. Better not tell tales. There!"

  They had rounded a corner. The smell of the river was very strong. There were lights ahead, and a few people standing in doorways.

  Big-big stopped and at last released his death-grip on Polion's shoulder. There was a faint clinking sound. "See the door with the two lanterns, one above the other? That's a pretty good place. The house across the street is bigger, if you want variety. Here, take this. Two eagles ought to be plenty, even for you."

  Polion took the money. It would be unkind to refuse. He mumbled thanks, too dumbfounded to say more.

  Jukion started to turn, then hesitated. "Be home by first light, now, kiddo! Think you can find your own way back?"

  Was he having second thoughts? Did he want to be persuaded? Polion wished he had brought his sword along, or a even a knife. He was out of his element in a city, and the big oaf would be reassuring company. No, it would be unkind to talk him into misbehaving. His conscience would never let him sleep again, and if Shupyim ever found out, she would kill him.

  "I'll manage."

  Jukion sniggered. "I'm sure you will. I'm going back to the party. Good luck, fellow! Enjoy yourself." A staggering thump on Polion's shoulder and he had gone.

  Well! Polion started to float along the street by himself. All these years he had misjudged Big-big! Incredible! Did they serve food in these places? Drink, yes. He'd heard about the drink. No one had ever mentioned hot tub specials though.

  He must have about five eagles in his pocket. Oh, wow!

  He paused in the center of the road. The girl under the two lamps wiggled provocatively. Wow, wow!

  The one on the other side stretched sleepily, arms overhead. The rest of her flowed into interesting positions. Wowee! Her dress was almost transparent, what there was of it. He went that way, quivering all over.

  She smiled. He smiled back, not really noticing her face.

  "Looking for some fun, handsome?"

  He nodded eagerly.

  "Then come with me." She stepped into the dark opening and disappeared.

  He shot after her. "Do you do hot tub—"

  A sap crashed down on the back of his head and all the stars and planets blazed in the night.

  12

  The hour was late, but the party was still rolling. Wine was still flowing. Bulion had no intention of stopping it—he had more to celebrate than anyone. He would show them that there was life in the old bull yet! He felt fit enough to drink and dance the lot of them under the table. The only music came from a fiddle Farion had found somewhere. It wasn't much music, because Farion wasn't much fiddler, but it was enough.

  Once in a while, Bulion found himself fingering his jaw. There was no pain now, no swelling. The hole in his gum had healed. Death's only value is to teach us the sweetness of life... who had said that?

  He was gratified to note that no one had slipped away on private adventuring. He disapproved of infidelity, but some men seemed to require it. Daling provided a safer outlet for their promiscuity than Tharn Valley did, and of course the unmarried ones always felt that they had rights. In this case the only bachelor present was young Polion, and Bulion had sent Jukion off to do his brotherly duty and fly the hawk. Jukion had returned with a knowing wink to say that the matter had been taken care of.

  Bulion made a mental note that one of the first things to be done when he got back to the vale would be to find a husband for Meilim.

  Meanwhile he could dance with the ladies and drink with the men and relish life and health. He was deeply touched by the family's obvious joy at his recovery. He could not expect the fates to be so benevolent the next time. He was catching his breath back at the table...

  "How does it feel?" asked a quiet voice. Gwin Solith settled on the stool beside him, regarding him with a quizzical smile.

  "Being brought back from the dead?"

  She nodded as if his answer would be truly important.

  "Very good! And also odd," he admitted. "Reminds me of a discussion I once had with your husband, Gwin Saj." He reached for his goblet, wondering if he had blundered onto dangerous ground.

  "Please tell me."

  "I asked him why he needed a god. We were discussing the fates, and he agreed that all men—and women too, of course—were bound by them, for good or evil. The virtuous suffer as much as the wicked. Both may prosper. All must die. I said I could see no evidence that prayer and sacrifice made any difference, so why were gods necessary?"

  "I expect Carp told you that he needed someone to be grateful to when things went right."

  "Yes. I didn't understand. Not then. Now I think perhaps I do."

  She smiled and turned her head to watch the dancers. She was a fine woman, Gwin Solith. She'd made a fine wife for Carp and was apparently doing a fine job of running the hostel without him. She did not fuss or raise her voice, but her staff was under perfect control and every detail of the meal had been perfect. Bulion had been impressed with her the first time he had met her, five—no, it must be almost six—years back. She had been little more than a child then, starry-eyed with love for her husband. He had not changed his mind since.

  "Gratitude, all right," he said. "But while you mourn I rejoice, Gwin Solith. Who do you blame when things go bad?"

  "One does not blame. One picks ones
elf up and soldiers on."

  "If one has the courage."

  She looked surprised. "Courage? No, not courage. All it takes is a sort of bloody-mindedness. Stubbornness! If we let the fates break us, then they have won another victory. They will win the game in the end, but until then we must deny them as many points as we can. To die satisfied with one's life is the closest we may ever come to victory." She reached out for the bottle and refilled his goblet. Then she poured a drink for herself in another that someone had discarded. She raised it. "To life!"

  "To life, long and full!"

  A remarkable woman! She wore the plain white gown of mourning, with no ornamentation. Her dark hair was short, in Daling fashion, not even covering her ears. The glow of the torches flattered all the women, but her delicate features did not need flattery. Her bare arms were slender, yet the swell of her gown over her breasts was quite adequate.

  Bulion felt his physical self stir, stimulated by wine and the excitement of his reprieve from death. He wondered drily what else the Ivielscath might have cured besides his tooth, and he remembered his half-serious intention of taking a third wife. Gwin Solith, alas, was not in the running. She was too recently widowed to be interested in remarriage and she had a thriving business in Daling to attend to. She would never consider a man of his age, anyway.

  "I am still worried that Jukion's cavalier gesture may have bred trouble for you, Gwin Saj. He is not normally a trouble-maker."

  She laughed with what seemed to be genuine amusement. "He made an excellent choice in starting with Kolo Gurshith. No one deserves it more. His father began the violence. Think nothing of it."

  "I feel like a naughty boy, running away after breaking a window." He automatically thought of Polion.

  "We have been through all this!" Gwin said sternly. "It is very unlikely that Kolo will remember anything at all when he comes to. Even if he does, he can't blame me for what happened. If you are already gone, then he can't blame anyone."

  Bulion wished he believed that. "You are sure you will not be in danger?

  She sighed. "In no more than I was before. It would be very flattering to be pursued by so many suitors if I did not know that they saw me as a tract of real estate."

  Her predicament angered him. A woman should not be pestered into marriage so soon after her husband's death. "I suppose you have considered entering into some sort of token marriage, to discourage these pests?"

  She sat for a moment, pondering. He liked that. He liked people who thought before they spoke. He watched the play of light and shadow on her throat, and he wondered if he should offer himself for the part.

  "That is not a viable solution," she said at last. "My token husband would have complete control of the property. Who could I trust so far? Suppose he tried to claim his marital rights? And what would happen if I then met a man I did wish to marry?"

  He felt relieved; had she answered otherwise, he would have felt bound to make the offer. A token marriage was not what he had in mind for himself either. "Of course! Foolish of me."

  She gave him a long, perceptive stare. "You owe me nothing, you know. Your debt, if any, is to Niad, and you will repay that by providing her with safe refuge."

  "Repay? That is no repayment at all, Gwin Saj! That is no hard field to plow! Many, many times have I longed for a healer in Tharn Valley. She will be welcome and honored. She can sit idle and eat strawberries all day long if she wishes. We Tharns are not noted for our looks, but she shall have as handsome a husband as we can find, if that is her wish."

  Gwin chuckled and took a drink. "It would be a brave man who married an Ivielscath! Every time they quarreled, he would be in danger of an attack of boils, or worse."

  Bulion reached for his own goblet with a snort. "That gorgeous little charmer? There will be men lined up in rows. I would marry her myself if she would have me!" He paused with the brim almost at his lips. "I am seriously thinking of marrying again." He drank, wondering why he had made that totally unnecessary remark.

  Gwin put her head on one side as if inspecting him. "Why not? You would be a catch for any woman, Bulion Saj. But... may I offer some wise feminine advice while there is still time?"

  He parried with a smile. "Remembering my wives, I am sure such advice will be wholesome, but I do not expect it to be welcome."

  "Do you judge medicine by its taste?"

  "Always!"

  "Why, Bulion Tharn! Shame! I merely suggest you seek someone a little older than Niad. Even if your child bride can resist temptation, you will both be aware of that temptation. However virtuous she may be, you will think of it every time a young man casts a shadow near her. Curb your ambition a little, Bulion Saj! Moderation is always the wisest course."

  "Nicely put! I shall remember your words."

  He held her gaze a moment, and it was she who suddenly turned her face away.

  "Remember mine," he added.

  She looked at him again, startled. And no wonder! Fates! The wine was pickling his brains. "But a token marriage has no more appeal to me than it does to you." He must be drunk!

  He was about to say something more—apologize, perhaps—and then he saw that she was still watching him. He felt the temperature rise abruptly, as if some smith's apprentice somewhere had just begun working his bellows.

  "Bulion?"

  "Gwin?"

  She hesitated. "I have received nine offers of marriage so far this quarter, and every one of the suitors was really after my dowry. I know that the hostel is of no interest to you. I thank you for reassuring me that I still have some value as a person."

  He slammed his goblet back on the table with a thump that splashed wine over his hand. "Gwin Solith, I mean no disrespect, but I would not take your property as an outright gift. My place is in Tharn Valley. As for yourself—nothing in the world would make me happier than to take you back there as my bride. I do not know exactly how old I am, but I must be over sixty. Few men manage two score, and I have lasted three. I cannot have many years left. If you would share them with me, they are yours. I believe I can still perform as a man in all ways that matter. If the time ever comes when I cannot, I should not hold you to a joyless marriage. As my wife, you would be unofficial mistress of the whole clan, over three hundred of us. I can imagine no one who would do a better job. Say you will marry me, and all I have is yours."

  They stared at each other as if equally amazed at the unexpected precipice they had reached. Then she reached out and took his hand. "You rose to the challenge! I should have known you would." She tried to break the tension with a smile, but it seemed forced. "You may yet regret being so hasty."

  "I do not withdraw a single word. Your attention flatters me immensely. I feared I was too old to interest anyone except the grateful poor. Like you, I was thinking of myself as real estate."

  She shook her head. "Women do not consider physical beauty important, Bulion. Power and wealth... yes, they matter, because they promise protection in a troubled world. But a man who has gathered power and wealth through his own efforts has proved himself to be a man of merit. Any woman would find you a worthy suitor."

  He sat and listened to the thump of his heart.

  Gwin drew a deep breath. "Let us dream on this, Bulion Tharn. In the sober light of morning, we may both see life more clearly."

  "My proposal will stand, Gwin Solith. I mean it."

  "I know you do, and I am honored by it. Let us dance on it, at least!"

  They rose and he took her hand, but they had barely taken two steps before their path was blocked by a tall shadow against the torchlight. "Gwin Saj, I am sorry to interrupt."

  "Tibal Saj? Something you need? You have met Bulion Tharn?"

  "Indeed, I have! I have congratulated him on his miraculous recovery, and I have thanked his grandson for avenging my black eye."

  Bulion chuckled politely. There was something odd about the lanky young Kuolian, something he could not place and certainly did not wish to worry about while he was in th
e process of wooing Gwin Solith.

  "Perhaps your eye can also be treated," she said cautiously.

  He moved so the light caught his smile; apart from the swollen and discolored eye, his face was all angles and flat planes. "It is unimportant. Do not worry that I shall denounce your secret healer. Will five eagles cover my tab, hostess? I regret that I must leave immediately."

  "Now? But it is the middle of the night!"

  "I know."

  "Bad news?"

  He shook his head, still smiling, still holding out the money. "I should have told you sooner. Inform Labranza Lamith that I shall see her back in Raragash, will you?"

  "Who?"

  "A friend who will be arriving shortly. Not exactly a friend. If you would give her the message?"

  "Certainly. And two eagles will be plenty, if you are not staying the night."

  "Take it all, please. Use the balance to celebrate." His smile faded into sadness.

  "Celebrate what?"

  "Life and happiness. I wish you both in abundance. And you also, Bulion Saj. Now you will excuse me?"

  Tibal Frainith bowed, turned on his heel, and stalked away.

  "Was that rascal eavesdropping on us?" Bulion growled.

  Gwin was staring after the Kuolian with a very puzzled expression. "No. He was dancing with Aneim until a moment ago. He has made other cryptic remarks. I even wondered if he could be a Shoolscath."

  "He wished us happiness. He did not predict it."

  "No," she said. "He didn't, did he?"

  13

  Jasbur stood on deck and stared morosely at the night. Since leaving Tolamin, he had seen no signs of humanity except a couple of barges in the distance, being hauled upstream by oxen on the towpath.

  Now a sprinkle of lights told him he was within Daling, but the barge had run aground—again. Twice this had happened. Labranza must have used influence to free it on both occasions, although she had not deigned to issue any warnings. Once a sudden squall had blown it clear. The second time had taken longer. A million sea gulls had come to swoop around, eventually settling on the rigging and rails and everywhere, even on Labranza herself. That sort of meaningless freak event was a typical result of Ogoalscaths' powers, but in this case Jasbur had wondered hysterically whether the filthy, noisy flock was going to lift the craft into the air and fly away with it. It hadn't. After half an hour or so, the birds had departed. Later the barge had drifted off the shoal, apparently on its own.