Part 38 (2/2)

”Nettle!” he said.

But Nettle did not turn.

Then Talen remembered the G.o.dsweed charm about his arm. Maybe he could brandish it and chase the thing off. He yanked on the charm, but it would not tear free, and the knot was suddenly too complicated for his fingers. He was so very tired. The touch of the fright was so very cold. It wasn't supposed to touch him, not with the G.o.dsweed. So maybe this wasn't a fright. Or maybe it was, and G.o.dsweed didn't have the virtue everyone claimed it did.

They b.u.mped along the road, and the creature reached out with another finger.

Talen kicked again. But he could not kick a third time-he was exhausted and in a cold sweat. His thirst was beyond anything he'd ever experienced. There was not enough spittle to even wet his tongue, much less swallow. And so he let the thing's cold fingers wrap about him, wondering if frights took more than Fire.

Iron Boy trotted at a good clip for some time. Talen lay there, the fright at his leg. Then the wagon pa.s.sed under some trees Talen recognized. He recognized the run of the slope off to his left.

Nettle drove the wagon across the stream and up the bank on the far side, then into the yard. But he did not slow quickly enough and almost side-swiped the well. When he finally got Iron Boy to stop, he turned around and looked down at Talen. ”Goh, you look rotted through. This isn't come-backs. This is some plague. Can you stand?”

”I can get up,” said Talen.

But he couldn't. He could hardly move. His lower left leg was ice. The fright had elongated its fingers, split and multiplied them, and wrapped them around his calf. It looked as if the spidering root of a young tree had attached itself to him.

Nettle called out for help. Then he jumped into the wagon bed and helped Talen sit up. The fright moved slightly, but it did not disengage.

”The fright,” Talen said.

”Yes,” said Nettle, then he looped his arms underneath Talen's and around his chest and dragged him to the back of the wagon. He pulled a lever and dropped the back gate of the bed, then in one fluid movement jumped out and pulled Talen over his shoulder like a sack of meal.

”River!” Nettle called.

Talen's head hung low. The fright still clung to him with one of its odd hands. Talen kicked, but the fright just swayed with the motion. Then Nettle pushed the front door of the house open, and Talen found himself in the main room. River stood from where she'd been sitting at the table. The candlelight shone off the beads about her neck. In her hands, she held clippings of Da's hair that she'd been braiding into an intricate decoration.

Talen looked for the hatchlings and saw the door to the cellar lay flat, shut up tight.

When River looked up, Talen saw her face go from annoyance to concern. ”What's happened?” she asked.

”It's an overdose of come-backs,” said Nettle. ”Or worse. Earlier, he's a picture of liveliness-blinding fast, wrestling Fabbis to the ground, leaping to the tops of the trees. Now look at him. Nothing more than smelly dishrag. And he's seeing frights.”

”I need something to drink,” said Talen.

”He's drunk a barrel today. I've never had to stop so many times waiting for a body to relieve himself.”

River cleared the table. ”Put him here.”

”Did the Fir-Noy come here?” asked Talen.

Nettle dumped him on the table.

”I haven't seen any Fir-Noy,” said River. She began pulling up the sleeve of Talen's tunic. ”Where did Da tie the charm?”

”How did you know he gave me a charm?” asked Talen.

”Where did he tie it?”

”Here,” said Talen and lifted the other sleeve. He looked down at his leg. The fright was there, squatting all k.n.o.bby and hideous, staring at him with one of its raisin eyes.

River fingered the braid and cursed. Her face turned grave. ”And he talks about risks.” She removed the charm and cast it to the floor.

”Who?” asked Talen.

”n.o.body,” said River. Then she slid her hand into the collar of his tunic. She had no sooner put her hand to his chest than she gasped and withdrew it.

”He's got the plague,” Nettle said. ”Doesn't he?”

”Do you have any of the baker's goods left?”

”Three small cakes,” said Nettle. ”I'll get them.” Then he went back outside.

”Has he poisoned me?” asked Talen.

”No,” said River. ”And it's not Nettle's plague either.” She looked at him, and Talen could tell something had happened. She was deciding if she should share some secret with him.

”Goh,” he said. ”It was the kiss. That girl!” He'd been wrong; they would have to kill her after all. Talen's weariness pressed down upon him even more. ”And her familiar has attached itself to my leg.”

River said nothing, but of course she wouldn't. Not if the girl had magicked her. He thought of the girl kissing him, and of kissing Atra, and then about being married, and that idiot that was courting River, and then he realized his mind was wandering. He focused on River, and it all came back to him in a rush.

”We'll have to be quick,” he whispered.

”What?” said River.

”Quick,” said Talen more loudly. ”Quick. Kill them, the boy and girl, quick.”

At that moment he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned and saw the girl standing in the doorway to the back room.

River followed his gaze. ”He's out of his mind,” she said to her.

”I'll divert her,” said Talen. ”You clobber her with the pot.”

”Be still,” River commanded.

Talen looked at the girl for a while, waiting for her to spring. ”Playing us like a cat? Is that your pleasure?”

”Sugar,” River said. ”I need you to fill the mule's watering trough. We're going to need to lay Talen in it. Have Nettle help you drag it in here.”

Sugar looked at the two of them, a storm brooding on her face. Talen thought she was going to say something, but she must have decided against it, for she strode across the room and out the door.

”Now's the time,” said Talen.

<script>