The Elusive Taste of Kolchoan Blue

by Patrick Honovich

Chapter 9: The True Cost of a Good Coach West

conclusion

Finally, after too long shaking on the bed, she stirred, trembling, raising her arms as if from a dream where too many hands were holding her down, as if trying to ward something off. She rolled to hang her head over the edge and gagged.

“Water...”

I had wine, and not a good bottle, but at least it wasn’t vinegar. I took it from the foot of the bed, and she sipped then swallowed.

Sarah slept for the rest of the day, and I kept a careful watch on the ink around her wrist, keeping the quill, which still showed occasional signs of life, in a separate case in my satchel, bound with a double length of black ribbon. When night was falling, she sat up, scratched at her shapely chest, which I’d been trying to ignore, and looked me in the eye. “What’s going on?”

I reached for her leg, lifted it up a little, showed her the scab.

“You asked me to save your life. This was what I had to do.”

I explained to her the slight magics of the ink, the slight charm I’d laid into it, explained it wasn’t active Verrin ink, told her I don’t know the enchantments for that kind. I also told her I was interested and pointed out that while she’d been in my care I hadn’t laid a hand on her.

“What does this mean?”

I took the case out of my satchel, loosened the ribbon, and when I half-opened the case to take the quill out, the damned thing leaped for it, jumping out of the case and flipping as if blown by wind, skittered across the floor with a steady plunk-plunk-plunk as the needles dug into the floor. I scooped it up and stuffed it back into the case.

“I’m not entirely sure what that means. Master Tellrus could tell me, but I don’t know.”

She scratched her head. “Could you find me something to drink? I feel like warm death. And my tongue feels like it’s been boiled.”

“Let’s see.”

She gave me a strange look, but obliged. Her tongue had been stained blue. She yawned and coughed.

“What did you mean, when you said ‘meeting’? At Cadzana’s?”

“I was trying to tell you to let it go, that I’d meet you later. Why, what did you think I meant?”

I laughed. She winced. “Sorry. I thought you meant to meet Cadzana on equal footing.”

She smiled. “Arrogant, much?”

The quill rattled inside its case.

“Don’t move. I’ll bring back something to drink. If you feel like you’re going to drop dead, try to make a whole lot of noise. I’ll come running.”

Case in hand, I hurried downstairs to the Master’s office. He was in a good mood, so he only slapped me twice but not hard enough to leave a bruise or knock me down. The quill went into his desk, but he sent me back up the stairs with a bottle of traducea, strong liquor I wasn’t sure would mix well with poor wine. She took a long pull, nearly choked on it, coughed hard and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, sitting up in my bed.

“No way to tell if it worked, is there?”

I shook my head.

“Then come here and kiss me properly and give us another drink.”

I obliged. In fact, we stayed up most of the night drinking and talking, occasionally kissing, while outside my window the wind moaned through every crack in the masonry, and the city of Correm lay besieged by snow. In that long and drunken evening, we decided two things: firstly, it would be better to arrive at Latidium with an ally and, second, whatever we might have together we weren’t in a hurry to find out.

Yes, I was attracted. So was she. The rest of it isn’t exactly your business, but I will say the intimacies we shared then weren’t so hurried. It took her two days to come back to full strength and, two days after that. we packed a few trunks into a cheap carriage and headed west.

Before we left, my master called me into his receiving room one last time. “Don’t forget—”

“Don’t forget my obligation to return after my studies?”

“No, I’m not worried about that. I can always find you, Satet. I made you.” At the time, the phrasing didn’t seem so ominous. Master Tellrus gave me an eighty-year old red and sent me out with his blessings. He wasn’t overly fond of Sarah, but he was also the first to admit that it really wasn’t his business. “I was going to say, don’t lose your edge. Stay suspicious.”

It seemed to me then that my suspicion and its edge were what ended up causing most of my troubles, more often than not, but I nodded.

Traveling through an Imperial winter, you either start to hate your companion, or love them. The stinging cold, the falling snow and the rattle of the team forced us close together on the seat, and we made miserable time, but with tongues still faintly blue, when we stopped for the first night at an inn, we took to bed with a few bottles. After a night that was a bit hurried, we slept sprawled across each other, sticky with wine and smiling.

In a layman’s terms, we traveled west, yes, but we also made the rounds, swigging down wine, traducea, whiskey, brandy, whatever manner of spirits we could lay hands upon. When the money ran out, we connived or stole more. When the luck ran out, or our welcome wore thin, we simply loaded our trunks back onto the rattling carriage and rode on.

Between Correm and Latidium, there are a great many inns, small taverns, working-man’s bars, and I’ll wager good odds we stopped at most of them. The Blue in my veins and the faint touch of the same in her wrist made us hardier and, for our own sakes, we continued to push our luck as far as we possibly could. Love? Maybe. Fun? Certainly.

We wintered at an inn in Mercaille, where instead of snow we had a steady rain every afternoon. While she read my books, I read hers. Every morning we crept downstairs to take tea with the innkeep, and most nights one of us had to resort to some magic trick or another to deal with one of the passing traders, but it was a cheap way to pay for our room and board, and everyone benefited except the few dumb souls who thought either of us could be frightened.

The Blue that had changed the ink in my skin seemed to be hiding in my blood, that is, I couldn’t tell immediately I was growing stronger, or faster until one night Sarah startled me as I was throwing a punch and my fist smashed through one of the innkeep’s tables. I couldn’t get a good firm grip on whatever was changed, or changing and, despite her training, which was greatly different from my own, the best Sarah could do was make an intelligent guess. It would have to wait until spring, maybe wouldn’t even come to the surface then.

Over the winter we learned to laugh together and learned, more importantly, which questions not to ask. When the snow rose to lap at the window-frames like a frozen white froth, we charmed it away from the path, keeping the inn in business, earning our keep, keeping the flow of spirits steady.

When the first signs of thaw began to show, the drip of water from the eaves and the soft huff of sliding snow, we floated our trunks out of the second-story window, across the yard behind us and into the carriage in the stables. I hitched the team, she took the reins, and we rode north, heading upriver, towards Latidium, the next phase of our training and, hopefully, some real answers.

Whether my gamble was worth it, whether it paid off, we couldn’t say, but we did have half a bottle of what appeared to be Kolchoan Blue, and no one coming after us to demand reparations. Good company, a fair breeze and a spirited team put a smile on my face, which spread to hers. Regardless of how things turned out at the Sage’s College, it felt good to head north with her at my side. I felt then I could handle anything the world had to offer, and if I got in over my head, well, at least I wouldn’t go down alone.

For her part, Sarah kept quiet and, although I had a fair idea of what she was thinking, sometime in the winter I’d kept my promise and let go of the tag, so I couldn’t know for sure. We arrived in Latidium two days before the opening of the doors, took a room at the second-best inn down in town and, avoiding the scowls of the locals, of which there were many, I waited to see what would happen next.