The Paths of the Dead (Viscount of Adrilankha) (33 page)

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Authors: Steven Brust

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“No, I’m afraid I do not. Why, have we no food left?”

Morrolan shook his head. “Just a piece of hard rock candy. But—”

“Come then,” said Arra. “There are villages nearby, and I think we have sufficient silver, and even a certain amount of gold, so that we can purchase what we require.”

“Well, that is true,” said Teldra. “And yet, if you recall the last time we came to a village—”

“I could go in by myself and purchase what we need,” said Arra. “Apropos, we could use more fodder as well, as the grass is becoming thin.”

“Bah!” said Morrolan. “How, am I to fear setting foot in a village because of absurd superstitions that may or may not be held by the populace?”

“Well then,” said Teldra, “let us find a village and go there.”

“Yes,” said Arra, “let us do so.”

In the event, it was some few hours of riding before they saw signs of habitation, by which time they were all more than a little hungry.

The village of Keybrook was entirely different from Kliuev. It was, for one thing, rather lower in the mountains, and thus was less of a freehold for highwaymen. Next, instead of
goats and rye, the economy was based on beef, chicken, and maize. It was also rather larger, and substantially more prosperous. Yet the most significant difference was simply that, as the mountains were lower here, and contained many passes and valleys, it was hardly a barrier, and hence, like Mount Bli’aard far to the north, there was more commerce than is usual between human and Easterner. The result, therefore, was that, though they were treated in a way that was only barely cordial, they were nevertheless able to purchase those items they needed without difficulty.

“Well,” said Arra, “what do we have, then?”

“Let us see,” said Morrolan. “Two sacks of corn meal, ten pounds of jerked beef, some sort of cheese that crumbles before it can be cut but is not bad for all of that, three loaves of soft bread, plenty of hardbread, several smoked bowfins, which will be wonderful if they are half as good as our hosts claimed, and a whetstone of which I, at least, stood badly in need, and four sacks of fodder for the horses. What else?”

“Plenty of ediberries,” said Teldra.

“How, ediberries? I do not recall buying those.”

“You did not, my lord. But, if you look ahead, you will see them growing wild along the path, so that we can pick as many as we like.”

“Well,” said Arra, “I see nothing wrong with this plan.”

“Nor I,” said Morrolan, “though we should not eat too many, as they serve to drive away sleep.”

“How, do they?” said Teldra. “I had not known this fact.”

“It is known by those who study the Art.”

“How,” said a stranger. “You study the Art?”

Morrolan turned, and found himself confronting a small, swarthy Easterner whom he had not seen before, and who had evidently been resting by the side of the road near the edge of the village. At the Easterner’s side was a medium-sized dog colored a sort of dirty white, and between his feet was a black cat.

“Well,” said Morrolan, “I give you good day, sir. I had not heard you approach. I am called Morrolan e’Drien. This is the Lady Teldra, and Arra, the Priestess.”

The other bowed, “May I present my friends, Awtlá and
Sireng,” he said, indicating the dog and the cat. As for myself, alas, I cannot give you a name, as I am searching for it.”

“How,” said Morrolan, “you are searching for your name?”

“Exactly.”

“Then you are a practitioner of the Art?”

The other bowed.

“Well, I know of these things. It does not seem so long ago that I was also searching for my name, only I came across a coachman who seemed to have a good supply of them, and gave me one.”

“Well, then perhaps I should search for a coachman. You perceive, I have been looking for my name since I was twelve years old, and, as I am now, well, considerably older, I would just as soon find it and be done.”

“Well, I understand that. Have you had your journey yet?”

The warlock nodded. “Many years ago.”

“And you have found a soul-mate?”

“Two of them,” he said, indicating the animals at his feet.

“So that all you require is a name?”

“You have understood me exactly.”

“Well, I wish you well.”

“Thank you, Morrolan.”

“Do you know, warlock, it has just occurred to me that you speak the language of Faerie.”

“Well, it seemed useful to know.”

We should mention that Morrolan, Teldra, and Arra had been speaking only the language of the Empire since they set out, because Teldra pretended such practice would help Morrolan and Arra become more fluent.

“Well, it will be if you journey across the mountains. Or even around them, as we are now doing.”

“How, you are going to the land of Faerie? Ah, but then, why should you not? For a moment, I had forgotten I was speaking to elfs. You perceive, it is not usual in this district.”

Teldra smiled. “We are not so bad, you know, once you become acquainted with us.”

“Oh, I have spoken with elfs before, I assure you.”

“And?”

“As you say, my lady.”

Teldra bowed, and the warlock, turning to Morrolan, said, “What of you?”

“Oh, I? Well, you perceive I have my name. Moreover, I have journeyed to a place where I learned many things not available to plain sight. And, as to my soul-mate, well—”

“Yes?”

“At first I thought it was Arra.”

“At first?”

“Yes, but then I came to believe it was the Lady Teldra.”

“And yet, you were uncertain.”

“Oh, but I am certain now.”

“Are you?”

“Yes. I am utterly convinced.”

“That it is Teldra?”

“No, that it is the Demon Goddess.”

“What do you tell me?” cried the warlock.

“The goddess, herself, is my soul-mate.”

“Bah!”

“It is,” said Arra, “exactly as he says.”

“Well,” said the warlock. “I must tell you I have heard of nothing like this. Do you not think it, well—”

“Presumptuous?”

“Exactly. The very word.”

“Yes, I think it is.”

“And so?”

“It is the truth, nevertheless.”

“In that case, well—”

“Yes?”

“Have you any objection if my friends and I accompany you?”

“Not the least objection in the world,” said Morrolan. He looked quickly at Arra and Teldra, both of whom signified that the warlock’s company would be welcome. The dog wagged its shaggy tail. The warlock, putting a thumb and finger into his mouth, gave off a loud, piercing whistle, after which a black horse trotted up, snorted, and shook its head.

“How,” said Morrolan, “you have your horse trained to come when you whistle?”

The warlock smiled. “In fact, I do not.”

“You do not? And yet—”

“Much is illusion, my brother in the Art, is it not?”

Morrolan bowed. “Perhaps you are right, and yet, if I do not err, your horse is not an illusion, and I have never seen one so strong.”

“You have a good eye for horses, my friend.”

“Tell me, of what breed is it?”

“Oh, as to that, well, I couldn’t say. But, believe me, he has a certain lineage.”

“Oh, I do not doubt that in the least. What is his name?”

“Duke.”

“Well, I should think at least Prince for a horse like that.”

“He is not presumptuous.”

“That is good,” said Morrolan, smiling.

After a few miles, the warlock said, “Tell me one thing.”

“One thing? Ah, having gotten our fill of supplies, and the day being so pleasant, well, I would answer three questions.”

“But I only have one, so I hope you will be content.”

“Entirely, my good warlock. So come, ask your question.”

“This is it: Exactly where are we going?”

“Oh, you wish to know that?”

“Awtlá, the dog, well, he is curious.”

“Ah, I understand that. Well, the answer is, we are bound for my ancestral homelands, a county called Southmoor.”

“Southmoor? Well, but that is near Adrilankha, is it not?”

Teldra answered him, saying, “Perhaps fifty leagues from Covered Springs, in the southwest corner. But wait, you know Adrilankha?”

“Know it? I nearly think so.”

“How, you have been there?” said Morrolan.

“Oh, indeed. I lived there for some time.”

“The trey!”

“It is true. And you, have you been there?”

“Never. I have only heard of it from Lady Teldra.”

“Well, perhaps we will go there, and I will show you some of the places of interest.”

“I should like that.”

That night, Morrolan asked the warlock which watch he preferred.

“Oh, I have my choice?” he said.

“And why should you not?”

“And yet, are you certain you trust me?”

“I do,” said Arra, with no hesitation.

Morrolan shrugged. “If Arra trusts you, well, that is sufficient for me.”

“And for me as well,” said Teldra.

The warlock bowed. “Well then, if I can choose my watch, I should like to select—”

“Well?”

“All of them.”

“All of them?”

“Yes, if that is acceptable.”

“And yet—”

“Well?”

“Will you not require sleep at some point on the journey?”

“No, for I shall sleep while I am on watch.”

“How, that is your intention?”

“More than my intention, my dear elf, it is my plan.”

“And yet, it seems to me—”

“Come, I know what you are thinking. I believe I can convince you.”

“Do you think so?”

“I am certain of it.”

“Very well, then, I am prepared to be convinced.”

As darkness fell and they made their camp with the practiced ease of old campaigners, the warlock walked out of the camp along with his two companions, and, some few minutes later, came back without them.

Morrolan said, “Your friends, then, are on watch?”

“Exactly.”

“And they are trustworthy?”

“Without meaning to give offense, my good Dragonlord, I aver that they are more reliable than any of the rest of us.”

“Very well, then,” said Morrolan. “I have said I trust you, and, therefore, I do.”

“That is best, believe me.”

That night, Morrolan found that, as he lay wrapped in his blankets, his head was near Arra’s, and he said very softly, “Do
you know, it almost seems as if, in the flickering of the fire, I saw a large, grey wolf circling about our camp? And it was, moreover, an extraordinarily large wolf, if I am not deceived.”

“And I,” whispered Arra, “am convinced that I have a seen a dzur padding about at the very edge of the light.”

“Well?”

“Well, I think he is more accomplished in the Art than he pretends.”

“I nearly think you are right.”

“Let us sleep then.”

“Yes, let us do so.”

The next morning, as they were preparing to break their fast, Morrolan saw the dog curled up next to the fire. It saw Morrolan looking at it and thumped its tail once. The cat lay next to the dog, cleaning itself. Morrolan shrugged.

They traveled in this way as the days and weeks wore on, and the mountains, which were ever upon their right hand, began to seem lower and lower, until one day, very near noon, Morrolan remarked, “Do you know, I am beginning to wish that it would either rain, or clear up, but this threatening sky is beginning to wear on me.”

“I’m afraid, my lord,” said Teldra, “that it will not clear.”

“How, never?”

“No, this is the Enclouding of which you have heard.”

“How, the Hand of Faerie, as it is called in the lands where I was raised?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Well,” said Morrolan, “I hope I shall become used to it.”

“I believe you will, after a time,” said Teldra.

“Well, let us go on.”