Come Twilight (Saint-Germain #13)

Come Twilight (Saint-Germain #13) Page 21

"What has happened to all the trees?" Rotiger marveled aloud as they continued their descent from the Septimania Pass. They were well below the elevation where the forest had grown yet they found only empty slopes; where the snow ended there were patches of sparse grasses and low-growing weeds, but the trees were gone.

Ragoczy Germainus pointed off to the west, where in the far distance, many ridges off, they could just make out the dark green smudge of forest against the sky. "There," he said, his tone as devastated as the mountainsides around them. "They are not completely gone."

Rotiger could find no words to express his sorrow for the vanished forest. He rode on in silence, only once speaking up when he saw a vast flock of goats at the end of one of the narrow valleys. Immediately above the animals was a scar on the land where a section of the slope had slid away, exposing the bare, rocky soil beneath. "Is there more of this, do you think?"

"Oh, much more," said Ragoczy Germainus, pointing to the goats. "And as they strip the land bare, there will be more."

The next day revealed more of the same, and the toll it was taking, for a stretch of the road had dropped into the gorge on the east side of the track. Ragoczy Germainus and Rotiger had to dismount and lead their animals along a precarious, improvised path to where the road began again. There were signs that other travelers had reached this place and turned back.

"How many do you think have crossed?" Rotiger asked when they were safe.

"Very few," said Ragoczy Germainus. "It is not surprising."

"What is the point of this...this rain?" Rotiger demanded as he got back onto his dun mare.

"The Moors need wood to build their ships," said Ragoczy Germainus with quiet certainty. "And open land for their flocks."

"And it is harder for enemies to hide on an open hillside than in a forest," said Rotiger, nodding savagely. "No doubt it serves their purposes."

Ragoczy Germainus said nothing; he was staring at the line of trees so far to the west, a minor frown forming between his brows. Finally he said, "We will not be able to travel at night, not with the road as it is." He pointed ahead where the ruts in the road became rivulets, erasing the track for several hundred paces. "We will have to lead our animals awhile longer."

Rotiger signaled his concurrence. "How much more damage will we find? Is it as bad further down?"

"It depends on how hard the winter was, and how many merchants want to use the Septimania Pass," said Ragoczy Germainus, his dark eyes fixed on the far distance. "And how many goats have grazed here."

"True enough," said Rotiger, tugging on the rein and the lead as he continued after Ragoczy Germainus.

"There could be bandits, too," Ragoczy Germainus called back to him as he picked his way ahead of his horse and mule.

"I should think not," said Rotiger, keenly aware of the dangers they faced.

"What about villagers?" The question was deliberately provocative. "You expect trouble from them."

"And you do not? Think of where we are." Rotiger swept out his arm to indicate the desolation around him.

"I have thought of little else," Ragoczy Germainus admitted.

"You are apprehensive about Chimenae's tribe, aren't you?" He halted his horse and two mules, then turned to face Ragoczy Germainus as he waited for his answer.

"I would be reckless not to be," said Ragoczy Germainus with a tranquility that was little more than an urbane veneer. "I have also thought about Ubertez and Lavetta and Ambrosius. The longer our arrival is delayed, the more danger they will be in, I fear. So Csimenae or no Csimenae, we must pass through her territory, and quickly."

"You think they are still abroad." It was as blunt a statement as Rotiger could make.

"It seems likely." Ragoczy Germainus' manner now was diffident. "Unless there has been a campaign against them, we must assume there are more of them."

"All still of her making and doing her bidding?" Rotiger asked, getting to the heart of the matter.

"That is what we cannot know," Ragoczy Germainus replied, and fell silent as he crossed a small stream, wincing at the brief sensation of vertigo it gave him. At least, he thought, he had his native earth in the soles of his shoes to shield him from the greatest discomfort running water created. The hooves of his horse and mule splashed and slithered on the gravel bed, and they scrambled up the far bank with more efficiency than grace, but Ragoczy Germainus kept pace with them, glad to be away from the water.

"This is annoying," said Rotiger as he hauled his horse and mules over the stream and up to where Ragoczy Germainus and his animals stood. "The road will disappear by summer if something is not done."

"Another will be made," said Ragoczy Germainus as he remounted at last. "We have some time until dark. We should keep a lookout for shelter."

"A village, a camp, what?" Rotiger asked as he climbed back into his high-canteled saddle. He pulled the lead up so that the mules had to follow closely.

"A place that is safe enough to pass the night without having to defend it," said Ragoczy Germainus as he tapped his mount with his heels.

"From whom?" Rotiger asked, repeating the question when he received no reply.

"I do not know: that is what troubles me," said Ragoczy Germainus.

Rotiger studied the rugged landscape for a little time, then ventured, "It isn't just Moors you're fretful about, is it?"

"No," said Ragoczy Germainus. "Not just Moors."

"But surely you cannot think that Chimenae has made more of her kind? Not after what we saw?" He was alarmed by the notion. "If she has done anything so foolish, the others would-"

"Exactly. The others would not accept it. It would be divisive." He held up his hand to show his predicament. "Moors are not my only concern. Nor are the villagers, though their lives have been disrupted by what the Moors have done to the forest."

"They must have enlarged their flocks," said Rotiger doubtfully. "Do you not think they have?"

"It is possible," said Ragoczy Germainus without conviction. "Chimenae's clan would prey upon flocks, the larger the better."

They went on a way in silence, their attention held by the miserable condition of the road; the daylight began to fade as the shadows lengthened, then disappeared, leaving the barren slopes eerily silent but for the steady sound of their horses' and mules' feet.

"Up ahead!" Rotiger shouted in relief and surprise. "Is that an inn? Here? Surely it cannot be a farm-there are no fields or pens. There are no watch-towers, so it cannot be a fortress." He rose in his stirrups for a better look at the place. "It is right next to the road. It must be an inn."

"It may be," said Ragoczy Germainus, his enthusiasm less than Rotiger expected. "If there is anyone still in it."

"There is a lamp burning in the window." Rotiger pointed at the three squat buildings that looked so much like the rocky hillside around them that they might have been mistaken for an outcropping of stones. "There, on the building nearest the road, on the corner window."

"I see it," said Ragoczy Germainus. "And perhaps you are right. We will stop there for the night."

Rotiger was well-aware of Ragoczy Germainus' reluctance, but he was not willing to accept it unquestioningly. "You are not pleased to have shelter for the night?"

"I am not certain it is shelter," he said, his voice distant. "I wonder at a place in so desolate a location that still offers a haven to travelers."

"Oh," said Rotiger, chastened. "You are remembering Baghdad."

"I am puzzled that you are not," said Ragoczy Germainus, no hint of reproach in his tone. "There are so many similarities."

Now that Ragoczy Germainus had reminded him, Rotiger was very much struck by them. "A remote place, the only building for thousands and thousands of paces, and the land empty around it. I do see why you-" he stopped. "Do you think we should go on? We might find a place to make camp beyond the next ridge."

"No," Ragoczy Germainus said after a short silence. "No, I think we might as well stop here. We cannot travel much farther today, in any case; our animals won't stand for it. We might as well make do with this place as with a camp of our own."

Rotiger was now apprehensive. "How do you wish to deal with this?"

"I assume we should ride up to the door and ask for a night's lodging, as any traveler would." He looked back at Rotiger. "There is no point in putting them on their guard, particularly here."

"No," agreed Rotiger, and settled into the last of their day's ride.

The three buildings were almost wholly undistinguishable by the time they reached the door of the one with the light; only a faint glow in the west provided any light to the land, and it was vanishing.

"Landlord!" Ragoczy Germainus called out as he dismounted. "If anyone is here!"

There was no response for a short while, and then a second light was struck inside the stone building, and there was the sound of the bolt being drawn back. Then the door swung open and a youth just on the verge of manhood stepped out, bending over in welcome. As he straightened up, he stared, then swore in the old tongue of the region as he kicked at the door in a display of petulance and aggravation. "What are you doing here, Sanct' Germain?"

Ragoczy Germainus recovered quickly from his shock. "Aulutiz," he said. "Is this place yours, then?"

"You haven't answered my question." Chimenae's son went to stand in the doorway, arms folded, legs apart. "And it is Olutiz now," he added, the subtle difference in pronunciation another reminder of the time that had gone by since they had seen each other.

"No, I have not answered your question," Ragoczy Germainus conceded. "Nor have you answered mine." He made a gesture to show he had meant no offense. "It was not my intention to come here, but circumstances have brought me. I must suppose that you were hoping for-" He walked around the front of his horse, pulling the reins over his neck and leading him forward with him.

"There are travelers enough on this road to keep us from starving, if that's what you mean." Olutiz glowered at the two arrivals. "You have horses and mules. That's something."

"I am afraid that we need them," said Ragoczy Germainus. "If we must make some arrangement, let us discuss it first."

"Why should we not take what we need?" Olutiz asked, his posture insistent.

"Because you are not a fool," said Ragoczy Germainus as he came to stand directly in front of the door. "Consider: you have lost the element of surprise. If I must, I will have Rotiger stay in the stable. He will not permit any of your numbers-and there cannot be too many of you in this remote place-to harm our animals. If you make it necessary, I will join him." He paused, letting Olutiz think about what he was saying. "On the other hand, we will take nothing from you."

"You must be hungry," said Olutiz, suspicion making him snap.

"Yes, I am, but it is nothing I cannot endure," said Ragoczy Germainus.

"You would have to fight us for any blood." Olutiz pointed directly at Ragoczy Germainus. "You know that."

"It will not come to that," Ragoczy Germainus said calmly.

Olutiz shook his head. "There are six of us here. Do you think you could defeat us?"

"Do you think I would not?" Ragoczy Germainus let the question hang between them, then went on in a more affable manner, "You are a long way from Chimenae's stone house." Ragoczy Germainus pointed to the building. "You have made one of your own."

"She!" He swore again. "She has banished us. More than twenty of us." He spat to show his disdain for her. "A few she killed, as an example."

"How long ago?" The question was kindly asked, without any suggestion of inculpation.

"Years. Many years." He shrugged and relented. "You might as well come in."

"We have animals to attend to first," said Ragoczy Germainus firmly. "If you will tell me which of those two buildings is the stable?"

Olutiz snorted in self-mockery. "That one. I'll tell Dorioz to leave you alone. We had a goat last night. He shouldn't mind too much. Have your man lead them there. You will not need to guard them." He held out his hand in greeting. "You may come in while your man takes your horses and mules to the stable; they will be cared for."

"No doubt, but I will ask Rotiger to remain with them, I think," Ragoczy Germainus said as he paused on the threshold, reins and lead in his extended hand and called back to Rotiger, "Stay with our animals. I will come to speak with you shortly."

"That I will," said Rotiger with purpose as he reached down for the reins and lead Ragoczy Germainus had been holding out to him. "And I will not sleep."

"Nor will I," said Ragoczy Germainus, his eyes never leaving Olutiz's face.

"So you say," said Olutiz, not very graciously. "You are determined to watch, then we must be satisfied."

"Very wise," said Ragoczy Germainus as he stepped into the front room of the inn. It was an unprepossessing place, small, with a low ceiling supported by sagging beams with a fireplace built into the western wall. There was a counter where barrels of wine sat, and a few rough benches set out, offering a minimum of comfort to the traveler. "A most...simple place," he said as he looked around.

"Well, it is the only inn for ten thousand paces in any direction, and the monastery no longer takes in travelers: the Moors collect a tax on them if the monks feed them." Olutiz went to stand in front of his fireplace, his head held up at an arrogant angle as he called out, "Dorioz!"

Almost at once the boyish creature appeared, bright eagerness in his cynical old eyes. "Yes?" He stopped still, seeing that Ragoczy Germainus was in the room. "Gods of the horses!" he swore.

"Yes," said Olutiz. "He has returned. His man is taking care of his horses and mules. You are to leave them untouched." He added, more forcefully, "Do you understand me?"

"You are ordering me to go hungry," said Dorioz, a defiant edge to his voice.

"Or find a goat," said Olutiz. "Just leave this one and his alone."

Dorioz glared at Olutiz, then turned and left the room without another word.

"He may not like it, but he will obey," said Olutiz. "He does not want to hunt alone."

A number of questions burgeoned in Ragoczy Germainus' mind, but he kept them all to himself, aware that Olutiz was enough like his mother to resent inquiry; he contented himself with saying, "Thank you."

Olutiz ducked his head once in acknowledgment, then once again met Ragoczy Germainus' gaze. "What are you doing here?"

"I am on my way to Asturica; I have been delayed," said Ragoczy Germainus. "It was not my intention to come by the Septimania Pass, but as it turned out, I was unable to use Roncesvalles. I had hoped to be in Asturcia within the month." He went to the longest bench and sat down on its far end. "There are those who will suffer if I fail to arrive in Asturcia, and in good time."

"That is supposed to move me?" Olutiz asked.

"Apparently not," said Ragoczy Germainus dryly.

Olutiz raised his voice. "Or am I to assume you expect me to help you because of it?"

"I want you to know why I am here; it has nothing to do with you, or your mother." Ragoczy Germainus put the tips of his gloved fingers together. "She is not with you."

"No," said Olutiz, his mouth surly. "Not she."

"Because she banished you." He nodded. "You were not telling tales when you said she and you had fought."

"I was not." He folded his arms.

"Are the others with you?" Ragoczy Germainus inquired as he looked around the empty room.

"A few-six are here now. Many of them scattered. Some were caught and killed by the Moors, and some by the monks. Perhaps there are a dozen of us still on our own." He frowned, recalling the things he had seen. "Even Edic came with us, in the end, for he did not like to see her prey on Moors. It was bad enough that she made three of them of our blood, but when she ordered us to hunt their logging parties, we refused, saying we would not hunt slaves, and she...she would not tolerate it."

"But that was an old dispute among you, whom to hunt," said Ragoczy Germainus patiently. "Why did it worsen?"

This time Olutiz did not answer as readily. He tapped his fingers on the barrel nearest the fireplace. "I see what it is. You want to draw me out. You want to make me tell you what I know." He was about to leave the room when Ragoczy Germainus' answer stopped him.

"Of course I do," he admitted openly. "I have not been in this region for thirty years and it is much changed; the forest is gone, and the road is dilapidated. It would appear that there have been other changes as well, ones that are not so visible as the ravaged forests, and I want to know what they are. I must travel through the region. Were you in my position, you would do the same thing." He sat still while Olutiz made up his mind. "You do not have to say anything, but eventually I will hear something from one of your number. This is an opportunity for you as much as for me."

"You say you want to know what happened?" The challenge was as much hopeful as belligerent.

"Yes, I would."

Olutiz paced to the fireplace, then stood there for a while before pacing toward Ragoczy Germainus. "It had to come. Everyone knew it. After you left, it became worse with her, as if she had to keep control of all the region, villages. Moors, and all. She would brook no opposition from anyone. Her demands increased, and she required more cups of blood and more two-legged goats." He was talking more readily now, as if glad to have someone to listen to him. "She also forbade us to make others of our blood. She said any such vampire was to be killed; that had been her rule from the first, but now she was more adamant than ever, as if she suspected the rest of us were going to raise a clan of our own to stand against her, or to challenge her for..." He sought for a way to express his emotion. "I did not agree with her, and I said, if she had done so much to preserve us, and that I, as her son, would rule after her, that I should be permitted the chance to make a company of my own."

"So you defied her," said Ragoczy Germainus, thinking how inevitable that was.

"Well, I had to," he said. "There was no bearing it." He slapped his hands on his thighs. "She wanted almost to be worshiped. How could I go along with her demands when they were so outrageous?"

"And so demeaning," Ragoczy Germainus suggested.

"Yes, that as well." He stared into the fire, then roused himself once more. "But not only for me; she belittled us all, particularly those who had been with her the longest. She held them all in contempt for their devotion to her."

"I see," said Ragoczy Germainus, to encourage him to continue to talk.

"Why am I telling you this?" He swung around to confront Ragoczy Germainus. "You are tricking me!"

"I am listening to you," said Ragoczy Germainus without revealing his inner alarm. "And I understand."

"So you claim," said Olutiz sullenly. "But why should you?" Before Ragoczy Germainus could answer, Olutiz went on, "You disapprove of how we live. How can you understand?"

"Because I am a vampire, and I have lived nearly three thousand years," he said.

The quiet statement brought Olutiz up short. He stared and struggled with a response, finally thrusting his hands through his belt and sinking onto the nearest stool. "That may be," he allowed in an effort to maintain his sense of command. "And you know my mother."

"Not as well as I would have preferred," Ragoczy Germainus said. He did not add that he thought Olutiz was very like her; that observation would not be welcome.

"That is part of it, isn't it?" said Olutiz, chagrin twisting the corners of his mouth. "She does not want anyone to know her too much."

"It appears so," said Ragoczy Germainus as he lowered his head.

"Do you intend to see her?" Olutiz asked cautiously. "I should warn you that she will not be-"

"No," said Ragoczy Germainus. "That is not my intention."

"That's right," said Olutiz with a quick smile. "You said you were planning to go by Roncesvalles Pass, weren't you?"

Ragoczy Germainus ignored the note of doubt in Olutiz's question and said, "Yes. I was."

"Fewer Moors up that way," Olutiz suggested slyly.

"Yes." Ragoczy Germainus got to his feet. "I should go to the stable. Rotiger may need my help."

"Somehow I do not think so," said Olutiz. "I will have Achona make up a bed for you."

"So Achona is with you," said Ragoczy Germainus, not truly surprised.

"Yes. She is." The justificatory note was back in his tone again.

"Do not bother her," said Ragoczy Germainus with a wave of his hand. "I will sleep with Rotiger, in the loft."

Olutiz shrugged. "If you prefer. There are rats in the stable."

"No doubt," said Ragoczy Germainus wearily. "There are rats everywhere."

Olutiz did nothing to stop Ragoczy Germainus from leaving; he remained seated, his chin sunk on his chest, his whole aspect one of indifference. As Ragoczy Germainus closed the door, Olutiz finally moved, but only to set the bolt in place.

The stable was not large, but the stalls were well-made and there was hay in the mangers for their animals. Ragoczy Germainus found Rotiger busy with their chests, which he had piled up in the center aisle between the stalls.

"The jenny is better," he said as he saw Ragoczy Germainus approaching.

"Good. We will have to travel far tomorrow," said Ragoczy Germainus.

"Is there trouble ahead?" He stopped in his work, concern in his faded-blue eyes.

"There is trouble here," said Ragoczy Germainus, coming to sit on one of the chests that contained his native earth.

"With Chimenae's tribe?" he asked, knowing the answer already.

"And who knows how many others," said Ragoczy Germainus heavily. He glanced at the nearest stall. "Where are the brushes?"

"In the leather case, where they always are," said Rotiger, recognizing a sign of worry in Ragoczy Germainus.

"Hand it to me, will you?" Ragoczy Germainus asked as he got to his feet once more. He took the case and went into the stall where he began to brush his grey, working down the glossy neck to her chest and withers. "Have you seen Dorioz?"

"You mean that little ferret of a boy? Yes. He slipped in here to bring buckets of water. He is a guileful one." He resumed his work while Ragoczy Germainus went on grooming his horse.

"Did he say anything to you?" Ragoczy Germainus asked a short while later.

"Only that there was a well behind the inn," said Rotiger, feeling uneasy.

"Did he." He stopped working the brush and looked directly at Rotiger. "We must be on guard this night, old friend."

"From that boy?" He showed no sign of amusement. "How can that be?"

"Not only the boy. Olutiz said there are six of them here, but admitted that a dozen still remained: I saw only him and Dorioz." He rested his arm across the grey's croup. "This makes me suppose there may be many more of them."

"How many more?" Rotiger asked without any indication of distress.

"I wish I knew." Ragoczy Germainus went back to brushing his horse, then picked out the hooves. "Olutiz said we would not be disturbed, but-"

"-but you are not convinced of it," Rotiger finished for him.

"Exactly," said Ragoczy Germainus as he came out of the stall, the leather case in his hand. "It might be best to build up a small fire near the door."

"I take your point, my master," said Rotiger. "And when that is done, I will keep watch from the loft."

Ragoczy Germainus laid his hand on Rotiger's shoulder. "That should be my task, old friend. If you will guard the animals, I will be sentinel for us."

Rotiger nodded. "As you wish," he said, and began to set up tinder and wood near the entrance to the stable while Ragoczy Germainus climbed into the loft to keep watch.

Report from Yamut ibn Mainum to Khallad ibn Baran ibn Fadil, carried by military courier.

In the name of Allah, the All-Compassionate, may I be struck dumb and blind if I report inaccurately in any detail; may my family be beggars in lands of famine, and may no son of mine bring honor to my name if I fail to present all the information you, most revered official of the Caliph-may Allah give him long life and many sons-have asked of me.

The detail of slaves and guards you have assigned to me have been set to work in the hills to the north of the Iberuz River, for the purpose of logging trees and clearing land, to which task we have devoted ourselves for the last sixteen months. The labor has been demanding, for as we have continued up the mountains, we have faced more opposition than was expected. The villagers here do not often fight us, for they have few weapons, and nothing to bargain with but their few flocks. Some have even sold themselves to us so that their children might be allowed to leave. Most of those who have departed have gone toward Christian territory, or the city of Usca, where many villagers have sought refuge.

But we have encountered other difficulties. The villagers in the higher valleys are not like those on the lower slopes. They have rituals that make them stubborn to our advances, and they tell us of demons that come in the night to drink the blood of unwary men. These tales have been told for years, and some of our men have heard them with fear. I put little faith in such fables, for surely anyone could understand how it was that the villagers would claim such an evil in the hope of protecting themselves from what our tasks demanded we do. Those men who claimed to have seen these night-demons all said that nothing could be done to keep safe but to set fires or behead the vile creatures. To keep our slaves from being made weak with dread, I ordered that fires be lit and maintained around our camps at all time. I also ordered the guards to behead anyone they caught sneaking around our camps at night. For a time this sufficed, and all those under my command were willing to work without fear.

But that has changed. In the last month we have been cutting trees in the region called Holy Blood, and there have been problems we have never encountered before. Not only is it more difficult to log in these mountains, but we are no longer able to count ourselves safe from the night-demons, for it would seem-Allah witness that I speak truth-that some of the night-demons are Moors, for only Moors could approach our guards and not be stopped or beheaded. In the last month, four of our guards have died, bled white and left with wooded stakes driven through their chests. The slaves are no longer willing to work, for they are afraid that they will die as their guards have died. The number of logs we have cut and sent down the slope is halved because of this fright that I cannot combat or fault.

I have sent to Usca to ask the Imam there what we must do to save ourselves from these night-demons that are all around us. We have taken refuge in a walled village called Mont Calciuz, and we have made the villagers work for us, both in cutting trees and in tending the flocks that follow, for they have long dealt with the night-demons and are wise in their ways. It is an abomination, but we have allowed the villagers to leave men at the gates on certain nights as offerings to these night-demons, and thus far we have not had any more of our guards or our slaves killed. It is wrong of us to do this thing, but-may Allah bear witness-I can think of nothing else to save those consigned to my care.

The land we are to log is in this region of Holy Blood, and I cannot suppose that we will not encounter the same difficulties we have experienced here. The land is steep and the villagers leave tribute for the night-demons and kill pigs to make offerings to them. If we are to persuade our guards to stay at their posts, I must be allowed to continue this policy of appeasement to the night-demons, not only to save our slaves and guards, but to end their terrors. I ask you to allow me this liberty, or you will have to send many soldiers to root out and slaughter the night-demons, which would be a costly venture at a time our soldiers are needed elsewhere.

Also, I must warn you that if you are to send flocks into this region, the animals as well as the herders will be in danger from the night-demons. You may think that this is readily avoided, but I assure you it is not. I have been told that the night-demons are of several warring clans, and that unless some arrangement is made with all of them, none of our flocks or men will be safe.

It is my ardent hope that our production of logs will increase throughout the summer, but if we cannot keep the night-demons at bay, I may be forced to withdraw from this region until the soldiers have eliminated the monsters from their havens high in the crags and deep in the forests. It is the cutting of trees that most distresses them, we are told, for the woods have long been a safe harbor for them. Our slaves say that to go into the forest now is certain death, and the villagers encourage them in this belief.

Advise me, O Khallad ibn Baran ibn Fadil, for I do not know what to do that will fulfill my duty and protect those under my command. The night-demons are many and we are few, and our fears increase with every passing day. Soon we will be at a standstill if I cannot be permitted to mollify the night-demons so that we may do the work we are assigned to accomplish. As Allah knows the truth, I tell you that I am at my limit. This at the full moon before mid-summer, in the village of Mont Calciuz.

Yamut ibn Mainum