Scribes Read online

  But that wasn’t enough to protect her. Its claws tore at the muck and empty air in front of Anna, willing to trade agony for a meal.

  Anna realized she wasn’t breathing, and only then did she detect the stench of pus. She’d never been one to scream when frightened, but now, as with childhood coyote encounters, she surrendered to fear and froze.

  Half-submerged in the bog, Julek held fast to her right leg and kept his eyes shut. He clutched tighter with each snap of the soglav.

  Anna covered her brother’s eyes. “Pull it back!” She could barely raise her voice above the snarling. Glancing beyond the beast, if only to calm herself, she saw the tracker waiting. “Please!”

  Shrugging, the man yanked at the rope.

  The beast sprawled backward and collapsed into muddy water, its arms and legs kicking as it struggled to stand. Its opportunity for a kill had evaporated, it seemed, as the soglav barely managed to lift its snout from the water and rise on its haunches. Its breathing was ragged, its muscles wobbling. Gnats swarmed over bloody flesh as they sensed the creature’s surrender.

  “Stay.” His voice was cold. Though standing just ten paces from the soglav with the rope tethered to his belt, he showed no fear of the beast. He was likely an experienced tracker, and on the bogat’s payroll. He wore a linked mail hauberk, the thick gloves of a falcon handler, and a simple iron helmet, outfitted for swamp crossing with a neck guard and burlap veil. Like his beast’s eyes, his were his only window of expression. But he was neither starved nor enraged. He had the weary, drooping eyes of a dusk petal addict. And in his arms, aimed at Anna, was a crossbow with a black bolt. “He’s the worst of the bunch, Grove knows. He ate three days ago. There’s a difference between hunger and starvation.” Holding his aim, the man wandered through the muck and kicked the soglav’s underbelly. When the creature screeched and collapsed with a shudder, the tracker showed no distress.

  “I’ll pay you whatever he’s worth,” Anna said, with as much confidence as she could muster. She couldn’t tear her gaze from the loaded bolt, or the fully wound hemp string that held it back. “I’ll pay double.”

  “How old are you?” asked the tracker.

  She narrowed her eyes. “I’m not a child.”

  “Right, then. Do you understand how payment works?”

  “Of course,” she whispered.

  The tracker’s gloved finger slid along the crossbow trigger as though stroking the feathers of a delicate bird. “So you know that not all men work for salt.”

  It crossed Anna’s mind that the tracker might not have been Rzolkan at all. Sometimes, the northern traders—those from Hazan, mostly—carried bricks of metal or packed spices. Maybe that was his currency, she reasoned. Nobody in her village had ever paid with currency beyond salt or bartering, unless a saltless trader had been forced to pay his way through with a brick of other materials. Even then, the odd bricks were always sold to another caravan for salt. But this man’s skin was too pale to be Hazani, and he spoke with the flawless tongue of someone from the eastern marshes.

  Anna hardened her stare to hide her ignorance. “What do you want?”

  “My cut.” He gestured at Julek with the crossbow. “Tell me . . . what did you intend to pay with?”

  She recalled the ribbon-wrapped bag of salt at her hip, which now felt heavy with the weight of its uselessness. “I’ll pay whatever it takes. Please, keep this between us. You won’t have to split your earnings with the others. I’ll pay you everything.”

  “It was salt, wasn’t it?”

  Anna gripped Julek tighter.

  “You couldn’t buy a droba with all the salt in your stores, girl.” He gave an amused growl. “And whatever you have in those little bags is worth far less than a rune. But your brother, according to my earnings in the contract—”

  “I’ll get you runes.” She realized, in the ensuing silence, that she’d used her last maneuver. Her father had told her to stay mum about her gifts, to feign ignorance on the mere nature of inscribing, but now her father had forced her hand. The tracker’s lack of retort gave her a hopeful flush, and she nodded, brimming with assurances before the man could refuse. “That’s right. I can get you a rune. That’s more than the bogat could offer, isn’t it?”

  The tracker’s weary eyes shifted in thought. Violet wisps crawled over his irises, indicating the petal’s haze. “It never looks good to break a contract,” he said after a moment. “They marked the boy, not you.”

  Anna scowled. “His name is Julek.”

  “I don’t care for names.”

  “It would be outside of your contract,” Anna said with a dry throat. “I’ll pay you, and you can tell them you never saw us. We wouldn’t come back, and won’t ever cause any trouble for you. I swear it.”

  “Your name isn’t on the contract, Anna, First of Tomas.” He made her name feel obscene. “I’ve no intention of dragging you before the court’s scribes for this farce.”

  “We wouldn’t need to use the courts,” Anna said.

  He cocked his head. “You know scribes, girl?”

  “One or two.”

  “Playing coy,” the tracker said. “It’s only a matter of time until they’re marked, anyway.”

  It was no achievement, in truth. According to Piter, the baker’s son, there had only been two scribes born in the region since his family moved here, and that was ten years ago. And Anna knew firsthand the difficulty of hiding such gifts.

  She knew the pain of it.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Anna said. “I could get you a rune, some salt, and they would never know.”

  “It isn’t enough.”

  “A droba, then.” She hesitated to even say it, but if slavery was her only option, she would take it. There was always a way out, she’d found. Given enough time, she could escape. And even if he forced her to bed, she could—

  “Do you think the bogat is a fool?” Another huff stirred his burlap veil, this one bearing a trace of indifference. The sort of indifference that only eunuchs or man lovers or people incapable of love could ever muster. “No need to answer, girl; everybody knows he is. But he loves his runes, and by the Grove is he a jealous lover. It would be remarkable if I reappeared in his court with a rune, and a sweet young droba, yet no sign of dear Julek, don’t you think?”

  Until that moment, Anna had never understood what elders meant when they spoke about hopelessness. In previous years, her father’s smile had made the world feel less hateful.

  Now her father was part of that hateful world, and she had only herself. With Julek’s every squeeze on her leg she felt the tiny iron teeth of her father’s traps. The silver necklace father had given her so long ago threatened to choke her. “My service would last a lifetime,” she whispered. “You’d never have to work for another bogat. You could live—”

  “You’re wasting my time.” The tracker glanced sidelong, watching his broken soglav’s ears flutter at the sound of distant movement. “They’ll be here soon enough, girl. So I suggest you sweeten your offer.”

  The other trackers’ graceless footfalls rang out, halting Anna. It was too gloomy for her to see the men or they her, but she knew the sun would appear soon. When it did, not even this tracker’s silence could protect them. Her throat closed, and her fingers went numb.

  Julek’s small hands clasped around hers.

  She inhaled. “I’ll give you all of my salt, my oath, a rune, and—please. I know I have more salt near the fields. I hid it under a stump last autumn.”

  The tracker remained silent, letting the snap of branches fill the air. “That’s not enough for retirement,” he said finally. “I would need—”

  “A scribe.” Her eyes throbbed as she tried to hold back tears. Before the man could reply her composure shattered. “I could get you a personal scribe.”

  The crossbow shifted away from Anna, but
the movement was so slight that it appeared accidental. “A scribe, for him?”

  Anna nodded, shifting her hands to mingle her fingers with Julek.

  “How would I get them?” His voice seemed more earnest than toying now, and that meant it was Anna’s chance.

  “I’m the scribe,” she said, stunned by how foreign the phrase felt. It was true, but somehow it felt wrong, as if it were a dream or a ruse. They were words she’d been told to repress. But it was her mother and father who’d promised her security for her secrecy, and now their word meant nothing. She wanted to repeat the words out of spite. Those words tingled on her lips. I’m the scribe, and I hate you.

  But the tracker’s eyes remained inert. “Is that so?”

  Anna nodded.

  The tracker stepped closer, crossbow at the ready. The mist thinned between them, revealing a pale neck, thick and free of any runes.

  He would die here.

  Anna’s hand broke away from Julek, creeping toward her blade. She’d never known the bogat’s best men to work without a rune on their neck, placed by a knowledgeable scribe and written for their sigils alone.

  I’m a scribe, and I’m going to kill you.

  “Hands,” the tracker said. He pointed with his crossbow. “Move the boy over here.”

  Showing no resistance, Anna placed her hand back on Julek’s shoulder, well within the man’s line of sight. She just had to play by the tracker’s rules, and strike when the time arose.

  “Julek,” she said, gently clutching the boy’s shoulder, “I want you to go and stand by this man. He won’t hurt you, okay? I’ll be right here.”

  The boy met Anna’s gaze with a sniffle. He kept her gaze for a full moment, perhaps waiting for her to reconsider, then gave a nod.

  “That’s it,” the tracker cooed. He glanced at the soglav, whose ears had stilled as the hunting party changed course and grew more distant. “I don’t want this to be any more tedious than it is, so we’re going to talk with some insurance. Fair, eh?”

  Helping Julek to his feet, Anna frowned. “Yes.” She pulled her brother close to her again, keeping her hands around his neck to avoid suspicion. It wouldn’t be difficult to draw her blade when the time came, but crossing the distance between them, especially with a loaded crossbow, would be the real challenge. And the method to kill the man was not immediately clear either. He was covered in riveted mail, and surely much stronger than her. “What will you do with him?”

  “Keep him out of our dealings,” the tracker said. He whistled, and the soglav’s ears perked up. Its eyes opened on the second call. “Send him over there, would you?”

  She peered into Julek’s eyes, trying to assure him with an even stare. She clenched both his shoulders this time, and guiding him backward, gestured for him to turn. Letting go of the boy’s tunic churned the bile in her gut. Soon enough they’d be home free, and the kupyek would be dead at her feet. As Julek hobbled toward the soglav, Anna wondered how it would feel to take her first life.

  Soldiers did it all the time. It couldn’t be too difficult.

  “You say you’re a scribe,” the tracker said as he traced Julek’s walk with the crossbow. He clicked his tongue and the soglav dragged itself up from the muck, straining against its rope to sniff at Julek. Despite his veil, the tracker’s amusement leaked out through hungry eyes, relishing the way Julek squirmed.

  Anna forced herself to look at the tracker. “I am,” she said. “If I go with you, you’ll let him go.”

  “You’re negotiating the deal now?” He laughed. “I appreciate the initiative.”

  “Yes or no?”

  “Your story’s already pushing it, girl. But if you’re what you say you are,” the tracker snarled, “how would I even know you’d be good company? You could run away, and I’d be more the fool because of it.”

  Anna frowned at him. “I have no reason to deceive you.” She scanned the weaving on the tracker’s burlap sack to determine if his jugular was prominent. It was. “You know where I live. You know where my family lives. If I slight you, you can go there.”

  “Same home you’re fleeing, isn’t it?”

  The soglav’s jaws snapped behind its muzzle. Anna shut her eyes, desperate to block out the spectacle. “Anybody in my village knows my face.”

  “Would they give you up?”

  Anna opened her eyes. “For a bag of salt. But if you’re out here, you need much more than that. You need a rune, at least.”

  The tracker’s eyes wavered out of acknowledgment. Surely he knew about his own vulnerability; desperate men did desperate things. “What gave it away?”

  “Your neck,” Anna said. “Always the neck.” Runes had been placed on other areas, according to the tales, but they existed for a fraction of the throat marking’s lifespan. It made it easy enough to see the marked ones, if nothing else.

  “It’s too damned hot for a neck sleeve.”

  “You asked me how I knew.”

  The tracker huffed, but this time it was a cold, mocking sound. “The bogat will make your mother into a plaything for his warriors,” he said. “The only thing he hates more than unlicensed runes is an unlicensed scribe.”

  Anna’s face was stone. She’d been expected to crumble under the man’s threat, but it was no use. Her parents deserved whatever fate they received. They had gotten her into this trap, and only she could get them out. “Do we have a deal?”

  “You’re persistent.” His crossbow’s trajectory never strayed from her stomach. “And clever, I’ll admit. So let’s say we have a deal for the time being. You’ll give me a rune as a show of good faith, and we’ll be off. Without him.”

  Anna spared a glance at Julek. She was prepared to see the tracker’s blood spurting as if from a beheaded chicken, but she couldn’t bear her brother’s pain.

  “And don’t proceed with your ideas of murder,” the tracker said. “There’s a reason I take precautions.”

  Another hot wave of panic touched her cheeks. She realized that they both had collateral on the table. Even if her blade severed his jugular during the rune-scarring, the soglav would make a bloody mess of Julek. And there was no telling if the boy’s screams would alert the others.

  “Bleeding virgins, this is heavy,” the tracker mumbled. He set his crossbow against a tree without releasing the tension. Even as he took hold of the soglav’s tether on his belt, he stared at the weapon longingly. “Well made, but dense. I’ll have to have it hollowed out.” He spoke as though Anna had asked him about the device. Then he glanced up and flexed a gloved index finger, beckoning Anna forward. “Don’t be shy.”

  She waded out of the muck, blade clenched in her right hand, her steps slow and deliberate. She handled the weapon as though it possessed her, keeping its edge well within the tracker’s sight. Only in the shadow of his linked mail and rotting burlap did she understand his true size.

  He had the jaundiced eyes of a man craving excess, and the smell of one too. Like the caravan workers, he gave off the odor of fermenting barley.

  “Right here.” The tracker lifted the tattered hem of his burlap mask. There was a pale and rubbery quality to his neck, revealing the dark lines of his jugular and windpipe.

  It would be a simple thing to open his throat, Anna knew. It was no different than sawing through a chicken’s neck. But the tracker had planned for her use of violence. She was brave enough to run or bargain or fight, but couldn’t bear to see Julek torn apart, especially as a result of her arrogance.

  And the tracker knew it.

  Her trembling hand pressed the blade to his throat, and she studied his sigils. Her first lines were mechanical, mimicking the sides of a triangle, and blood only oozed when she mirrored the finer details of his essence. In her periphery, she watched the soglav hook its claws into Julek’s tunic, pulling him into a hideous embrace. Her shaking hands squeezed th
e blade. Just over the tracker’s windpipe she continued to carve the unique sigil that covered his body: an intricate, fifty-pronged blossom. Each prong was a quick, shallow cut, and she realized that any one of them could have been his death.

  Working in silence, she kept her hand as steady as possible.

  It seemed to last an eternity—two, three, four minutes—and all the while, she used her free hand to smear away the blood, never brave enough to look directly into the man’s eyes. If she glanced up, it was only high enough to inspect her markings. She rarely needed to check. In her village, she’d secretly given runes to a handful of hunters tracking a brown bear. She was unlicensed, of course, but those who received her runes were unlikely to speak out. Hers were the best; they could last an entire hunt before fading.

  Now she hated how well she could carve.

  On the last few prongs Anna’s hand wavered, and the man’s neck muscles twitched excitedly. For Julek, she reminded herself. She swallowed her disdain, having already shed her pride, and resumed her work. When she was finished, she lowered her blade, and then her head. Even in the gloom she saw crimson splotches upon her hands and wrists.

  Blood retreated into torn flesh. Skin pinched itself shut. Luminous hayat burned beneath the new rune.

  “It’s done,” Anna said.

  The tracker yanked up his crossbow and settled it into his arms. “I know.” Red marks soaked through the burlap. “Let’s move. He stays here.”

  Anna clenched her blade tighter. Until the tracker spoke those words, she hadn’t considered the concept of leaving, of never seeing Julek again. She was abandoning him an hour from the river to Lojka, and with what? How far could a maimed boy walk on his own? When would the others find him?

  “Don’t tell me you’ve gone mute,” the tracker said. He nodded toward the soglav. “This one is horrible traveling company as it is. I was hoping for some conversation on the road. You have a tender little voice.”