Patricia Briggs (7 page)

He raised an eyebrow. “You don't remember? You grabbed Cantier and told him his dog had done it when it was hurt and afraid.” He gave me a small smile. “Then you patted him on the cheek and said something to the effect that people and dogs had a lot in common. You were pretty frightening, Pest. If it hadn't been for the priest…It was a good day for you when Old Gifford died and Tolleck came to the village.”

I nodded. “I remember the priest. Well enough. If I can find her for you, I will. Come into the house so I can sit down.”

I did
not
want to do this. No visions all day—well, only that little one about Kith and Quilliar. But Danci had been—was—my friend, too.

Kith led his horse to a patch of grass and ground-tied him before following me into the cottage. I waited for him to shut the door, then took a seat on a stool set against a wall. As it was the only seat of any kind left in the house, Kith was forced to stand. Leaning back, I closed my eyes and let Danci's face form in my mind. If it had worked with Cantier, it might work for Danci.

Honey-brown hair, I thought, with a touch of curl. Gray eyes that glittered with fun and a stubborn jaw. Clear skin and a nose slightly too long for her face. Even as I cataloged Danci's features, her image faded into another face.

Predatory eyes, cinnamon-colored and slitted like a cat's, were startling, but his features were human. Merriment and laughter touched his face, which was a gray darker than night's shadow. His eyes met mine, and his brow lifted in mild inquiry. I was uneasily certain that he saw me, that perhaps the vision was as much his as it was mine. For an instant I glimpsed loneliness that matched mine, and I wondered what he had lost.

“Hob?” said Kith's voice in my ear. “You mean Hob's Mountain?”

I blinked stupidly at him for a moment, oddly startled by the color of his skin. “I don't know. Do I?”

“All you said was ‘Hob.'”

Still half-caught in my vision, I shook my head, unable to answer him because I didn't remember saying anything. “You said you're going to Auberg by the old trail over the Hob?”

“Yes.”

“Would you mind if I went with you? Duck's back, so I wouldn't need to borrow a horse.” I started to get up, but a wave of dizziness caught me halfway up.

“Did you see something?” He pulled me to my feet and steadied me a moment.

I nodded. “Nothing to do with Danci. I have no idea what it means, but I think that I might find out on the trip over.” It was something to do besides sit here and contend with memories and visions. Maybe, if I kept busy, the visions would go away. Even this one I'd had about the wildling with red-brown eyes wasn't as consuming as the ones I'd had earlier.

Kith nodded once, and stepped outside. “Fine, then. I'm meeting the harper at the inn just before dawn. Pack food to last at least four days.”

I followed him to his horse. It took him a few moments to gather his reins, and I thought about how frustrating he must find it to have only one arm.

“If you take the ends of the reins in your teeth you could collect them faster and more evenly,” I observed.

He smiled at me, surprising me with a glimpse of his old self. “I do, if no one is watching.” Reins properly tightened, he stepped into the saddle.

“Kith?” I asked abruptly.

“Hmm?” His horse shifted its weight impatiently.

“Would you teach me how to use a knife? I can use a bow—Father taught me. But that wouldn't do me any good in close quarters. I've got one of Daryn's knives in the house.” It was in the cellar, waiting for sharpening. I could do that tonight.

“Fighting?” He looked thoughtful. “I suppose I ought to, with you living out here alone.” He wasn't stupid enough to tell me that I ought to move into town—the villagers might be more dangerous to me than the raiders. “Fine. Bring your knife with you when you come, and we'll start tomorrow.”

“Right.”

“Aren?” he said.

“Yes?”

“Are you sure you want to bring Duck? No offense, but he's not really a riding horse. That trail is really rough, even dangerous in some places. I could borrow one of Father's mounts for you.”

“Could you?” I said doubtfully, remembering Albrin's reaction on the long ride to the village. My memories must have been accurate, because Kith flushed.

“Never mind,” I said. “Give him some time. Duck and I will do just fine. Remember, I've been over the trail before—with you, as I recall.”

He looked blank for a moment, then grinned. “And wasn't your father fit to be tied about it, too? I'd forgotten that. Quill and I hiked up the Hob to spend our first night alone, feeling all grown-up and daring. Got to the place we were going to camp, and there was his skinny baby sister. Never did tell us how you got there ahead of us.”

I laughed. “I was afraid to. I knew Quill would tell Father, and I'd never step out of the house again. I climbed the cliffs straight up rather than taking the route you did. It cut miles from the trip, but about halfway up, I wasn't sure I was going to make it.”

He shook his head, and shifted his weight so Torch started back up the trail. “Always did have a fool's courage, I'll say that for you. See you in the morning.”

“See you,” I said, watching him ride away. With the suddenness of spring, the wind chose that moment to turn cool, sending a chill down my spine—a chill that somehow reminded me of dark skin and cinnamon eyes.

T
he streets were empty in the predawn hours. Duck's unshod hooves hit the dirt road quietly. A few dogs barked as I rode past their houses, but I didn't see any people until we neared the inn.

Merewich stood with Albrin. Even from a distance I could tell they were arguing fiercely, though in tones so hushed I didn't even catch the echoes of their voices. Beside them, isolated by the stone-grim expression on his face, Kith stood looking out at the darkened streets, absently rubbing his hand against the side of Torch's face. The gelding was the first to notice our approach.

Alerted by his horse's fixed attention, Kith said something to the other two men. By the time I rode into the inn's cobbled courtyard, both Merewich and Kith's father had subsided into silence.

Kith nodded in greeting. “Wandel is saddling his horse, then we'll leave.”

I gave him a half-smile, but my attention was on Albrin, who turned his head aside as if he could not see me. I swallowed uncomfortably. Albrin had taught me how to ride and where the best strawberries grew in the spring.

Merewich patted my knee, talking as if Albrin couldn't hear him. “Give him time. I've talked with the priest, and he believes—as do I—that we haven't seen the worst of this. Brother Tolleck is something of a scriptural scholar. He says there'll be dark days ahead, and I find myself agreeing with him. Something rather worse than a few raiders. Mind that you keep your eyes open.”

I nodded my head, turning away from Albrin to meet the old man's eyes. “I will.”

Wandel came from the stable with his sweet-faced, creamy-white mare, and stepped into the saddle. He moved like a man several decades younger than he was—almost like Kith. I frowned, wondering why a harper moved like a soldier.

“My dear,” he exclaimed, seeing Duck's bridle for the first time, “what
are
you using for a bridle? It looks like it's made of knotted rags.”

I grinned at him, though the expression felt odd after so long. “It is—but it's a hackamore, no bit. Raiders took every scrap of leather in the barn. This was the best I was able to come up with. It's not as if Duck needs much more than a reminder now and again.”

Duck stretched his nose toward the little mare. She let him in range, but then her small ears flattened and her eyes rolled wickedly as she snapped her teeth at him. Hurt and indignant, Duck pulled his muzzle out of harm's reach.

“The Lass doesn't like other horses,” commented Wandel needlessly.

“Or children,” said Merewich.

“Or dogs,” added Kith with a faint smile.

“Or women,” agreed the harper, who wasn't above using his horse's peculiarities as fodder for song—or, I could see, to defuse tension. “I had the prettiest little wife once….”

“Come on,” said Kith. “If we don't start now, he'll be here telling stories until the sun goes down.”

Wandel shook his head and handed his mare off to Albrin. “Aren can't ride bareback the whole way. Let me find a saddle for her to use in the stable.”

He came out with a saddle, blanket, and saddlebags. While I saddled Duck, he mounted his gray mare. I divided my bundle evenly between the two saddlebags he'd brought out. I walked Duck out before checking the cinch. It was a little loose, so I tightened it before mounting. I took my time, refusing to give in to the awkward silence that hung over the courtyard by hurrying.

“Wandel, old friend,” said Merewich, finally breaking the silence.

The harper smiled, and gripped the elder's hand firmly. “Until next season, then.” He turned to Kith's father. “Albrin.”

Albrin shook his hand, but when he turned to his son, Kith rode out without speaking.

W
E USED THE TOWN BRIDGE TO CROSS ONTO THE LORD'S
side of the river. The lord's fields were already tipped with green as the earliest of the crops sprouted, having been planted several weeks before the village's.

It took several miles for the horses to find a comfortable pace for traveling together. Kith's horse was used to traveling with large groups, but the harper's mare liked to choose her own pace. Then there was Duck. He had a ground-eating, syncopated walk that was too fast for either of the smaller horses: his alternative was the gait he used when plowing, which was too slow. Only when the animals decided that they had to travel together did things calm down.

There were serfs in the farther fields. The manor and lands were smallish for a lord's house, or so I'd been told. Lord Moresh had several much larger elsewhere. I didn't know how many serfs he had to work the land because they seldom came to the village and were discouraged from conversing with the freemen, but I supposed them to be fewer than fifty.

A work party of six men was clearing the irrigation ditches of winter's debris. None of them looked up, though I rode less than a long stride from several of them.

Farther on, a woman piled the burnable rubbish on a small donkey cart. She might have ignored our passage as well, if Wandel's mare hadn't decided to take exception to the beast.

Snorting and dancing, she skittered halfway across the road—startling the poor donkey rather badly. The woman dropped her bundle of dry sticks and ran to the donkey's head. Briefly her eyes met mine.

Wandel controlled his mount, then swept a flourishing bow. “My apologies, lady. My mare is overset by having such a large audience for her antics.” The Lass snorted and shook her head, mouthing her bit impatiently.

Head bowed, the woman nodded, clearly waiting for us to move on so she could get back to her task. I noticed that her hands were shaking—in fear of Wandel? I looked at the minstrel, but, clad in his usual bright-colored foppery, he appeared no more dangerous to me than a hound pup.

I rode on, thinking about what I'd lost and what that woman would never have. I stored the sight of the other's lifeless eyes and trembling hands in my memory, to be brought out should the temptation to feel sorry for myself return. At least I'd had a family to lose—and I wasn't prey for any man who happened by.

B
Y MIDMORNING WE REACHED THE END OF THE CULTIVATED
fields. Choosing a deer trail with seeming randomness, Kith led us into the dense, thorn-infested woods beyond. I hadn't been out this way since I was a child without the chores of adulthood. The trails tended to change a bit from year to year, but I didn't think this was the one I'd taken on the way to the Hob.

Kith, though, didn't hesitate. He'd obviously been riding up here lately, because he hadn't known the paths this well when Lord Moresh recruited him.

I frowned past Wandel at Kith's back. He was tense, like a hound on the trail. He was always looking to one side of the trail or the other, and I could swear he was testing the air for scent now and then. Torch seemed to be infected with the same restless urgency as his rider. He paced forward with his head up, nostrils flared, prancing ever so slightly.

Well, the forest felt different to me, too. As if there were something watching us. But the thornbushes made spying difficult. If anyone was crashing through the thick brush, we'd have heard them. Maybe it was an aftereffect of the magic's release that made me so unnerved. More likely it was watching Kith act like someone was watching us.

“Anything wrong, Kith?” I asked. “You're acting like a mouse in a fox's den.”

“Nothing,” he said. “But I feel…” He looked back at me. “If I say this, people are going to think I'm as weird as you.”

I batted my eyelashes at him. “I'm not weird, I'm evil—the One God declares it so. Just ask Poul's mother.”

He rolled his eyes, then turned his head so he could watch where he was going. “I feel like the forest is alive.”

I thought about it a moment, and decided I felt the same way. Not that I'd say so. People might think I was weird.

“Me, too,” admitted Wandel. “But forests always bother me. I can't see if there's anyone else around. Too easy for someone to set up ambushes.”

“There's no one here,” replied Kith shortly. “I'd smell them if there were.”

Smell them? The trail narrowed, and I turned my attention to riding.

For the first time, I regretted not accepting Kith's offer of a riding horse. Trails that work for roe deer aren't built for a seventeen-hand draft horse—let alone for one with a rider on top. Finally, frustrated, I kicked my feet free from the stirrups and lay flat on his back, trusting him to follow the others without much fuss.

When Wandel pulled up suddenly, Duck got too close to the the Lass. She let fly with her heels, but Duck had gotten used to her tactics and pushed forward so she couldn't get room to put much force behind her kick. Infuriated, she spun on her hind legs, disregarding her rider and the dense flora, teeth flashing as she tried to bite poor Duck.

I grabbed the rolls on the front of the saddle and held on despite the branches that gripped and tore at me while Duck backed rapidly away from the charging she-demon.

Wandel leaned forward and sang softly to the mare. I didn't catch the words, but I happened to be sliding off in the right direction to get the full effect of the switch from enraged nightmare to child's docile mount. The surprise sent me slithering all the way to the ground.

The Lass stood still, eyes half-closed in ecstasy as Wandel sang a lullaby to her; only the speed of her breathing remained of the wild-eyed beast of a moment ago. The rare sound of Kith's laughter brought an answering grin to my face.

Wandel finished the chorus and patted his mare's white neck.

“I know,” he said. “Oddest thing I've ever seen, too. Most of the Lass's antics are just flash and spit—I think she enjoys the attention.”

The mare swiveled an ear toward the harper and cocked her hip, resting on three legs as if she were dozing—but the eye I could see was wickedly bright.

I found a place in the trail relatively clear of brush and remounted. “Why did you stop in the first place?”

“That,” said the harper, pointing through the trees.

“The hob court,” said Kith.

I maneuvered Duck until I could see the old stone foundation through the dense growth. Somewhere we must have joined up with the trail that I used to take, because the view was a familiar one.

The stones might have been the remains of some ancient farmer's storehouse, but by some trick of fancy or weather wear, they looked as if they were the remnants of a tiny castle, complete with curtain wall and battlements.

“Gram called it the sprite's court,” I said, “but I suppose we'll never know. Grandpa trapped the high country in the winter; he said you could find unusual remains all over these parts—reminders of the wildlings who used to live here. He said he found a whole city once, nestled in a narrow ravine; but when he lost sight of it looking for a way down, he was never able to find it again.” I wondered if it really was a sprite's castle.

“Your Grandpa liked to tell stories,” said Kith repressively before starting off again.

I grinned at Wandel. “Yep, and about half of them were hog hooey. But deciding which ones were which was half the fun.” More soberly, I said, “Lord Moresh's brother disappeared on Faran's Ridge. They hunted for him for weeks, but never found so much as a scrap of cloth.”

The harper nodded. “There are many such tales here in the mountains. Too many to be dismissed as complete fiction.” He set the Lass on the trail at a trot to catch Kith, and I brought up the rear.

T
HE GROUND BEGAN TO SLOPE GENTLY UPWARD AND
the woods cleared a bit. The thornbush disappeared from the mix of underbrush. Overhanging branches no longer reached clear across the trail, so I could sit up, a position that I found much more comfortable.

Wandel brought his harp out. In keeping with the mood Kith had set earlier, he played a few tunes about the wild creatures who had held these mountains so long ago. I joined in with the ones I knew, ignoring Kith's exaggerated winces when I lost the pitch. Ever gracious, Wandel ignored my mistakes.

He switched at last to a tale of King Faran, the wizard-king who conceived of the highway. The ridge that formed the southwestern border of the valley was named after him because he was said to have won a battle there, though there was no real proof of it.

He had been, according to Gram and to Wandel's song, handsome and charismatic. He'd spent a long time as a warrior before taking up the additional robes of magery. Faran ruled wisely and well until the madness that inevitably twists bloodmages caught him—or so the stories said. I don't know how a bloodmage could be a good king, mad or not. The tower he'd thrown himself from was still standing (or so I'd heard).

I hadn't heard the story Wandel played, but it had a catchy tune and merry verses. Kith unbent enough to join in. He added a few verses himself, most of which were of the kind I'd have expected a soldier to know.

As we came out of the trees to the drier, grassy slopes of the foothill below the Hob, Kith stopped singing abruptly. Urging Duck beside the others, I saw what had brought on his silence.