Year of the Unicorn (21 page)

Even the double sight gave me no shadow. But I used it on the surrounding country and saw-

I was no longer in a world empty of inhabitants. Mist formed grew more visible as I concentrated, stiffened, became opaque and solid seeming. To my left there was a lane turning from the road, and at the end of that lane a farm garth. An old house with a sharply gabled roof, outbuildings, a walled enclosure which might mark a special garden. It was unlike the holdings of the Dales with that steeply pitched roof, with the carvings scalloped around the eaves and dormer windows. The front faced a paved yard in which I saw figures passing. And the more I studied it, the clearer my sight came to be. This was the true sight, the empty fields the illusion.

Without making any real decision I turned into that lane, hurried my steps to the paved yard. And the closer I came the more imposing the house. The roof was covered with slates, the house itself was of stone-that same blue-green stone I had found on the heights. But the carvings were touched with gold and a richer green. Over the main door was set a panel bearing a device like unto the arms of the Dales, yet different, since it made use of intertwined symbols and not the signs of heraldry. And about it was the feeling of age, not an age which drains and exhausts by the passing of years, but an age which adds and enriches.

Those who went about their business outside were two, a man who led horses from the stable to drink at a trough, and a capped maid shooing fowls before her-fowls of brilliant feathers and long slender legs.

I could not see their faces clearly, but plainly they were made like unto me and human seeming. The man wore silver-grey hosen, and an over-jerkin of grey leather, clipped in at the waist with a belt on which gleamed metal. And the maid had a gown of russet, warm as a hearth fire and over it a long, apron-shift of yellow, the same colour as her cap.

The pavement of the yard was solid under my boots. And the maid approached me, sowing grain for the birds from a shallow basket on her arm.

"Please-" Suddenly I needed contact, for her to see me, answer-I had spoken aloud but she did not glance at me, even turn her head in my direction.

"Please-" My voice was thin but loud. In my own ears it rang above the sounds made by the fowls. Still she did not look to me. And the man, having watered the horses, returned with them to the stables, passing close by. He looked, yes, but manifestly he did not see. There was no change of expression on his thin face with its slanted brows and pointed chin-like in that much to the Riders' features.

I could stand their indifference no longer. Reaching out I caught the maid's sleeve. She gave a little cry, jerked back and stared about her as one bewildered and a little afraid. At her ejaculation the man turned and called query in a tongue I did not know. Though both of them looked to where I stood, yet they did not show that they saw me.

My concentration broke. They began to fade, that age-old house, man and maid, buildings, fowls, horses-thinner and thinner-until they were gone and I stood in the middle of one of the fields utterly alone again. Still in me I knew that my sight was reversed-where once I had seen good slicked over ill, now I saw ill slicked over good. To me this was a land of wraiths-and to them I was the wraith!

I stumbled back to the road and sat down on its verge, my spinning head in my hands. Would I ever be real in this land? Or not so until I found the other Gillan? Was she real here?

The Hound rations were only a few crumbs now. Where would I find sustenance, this wraith who was me? Perhaps I could break the illusion long enough at some garth or manor to find food, though I might have to take it without asking, if those who dwelt there could not see me. Let me only reach that other Gillan, I prayed-to what power might rule in this land-let me be one again-and real-complete!

For a while I no longer tried to see what lay beneath the overriding cover of emptiness. How well these people had chosen their various skins of protection-the Guardians-that horror on the mountain road, and this new blanket to meet the eyes of any invader. A company of Hounds might ride here, mile after mile, and see naught to raid. How much had I passed by chance without knowing that it was there? Keeps, manors, towns?

More food I must have, and if I must raid for it, then it would be necessary to see. Two manors I sighted dimly as I went on were too far from the road, and I clung to that because it was real. And it led, my invisible guide told me, in the right direction.

It was mid-afternoon when I saw the village. Again it lay on a side way. And I speculated as to why all the dwellings I had seen did not abut on this highway but stood always some distance from it. Was the road itself a trap of sorts, to lead an invader across open country well apart from any inhabited place where blundering chance might inform him that all fields were not as they appeared?

A small village, perhaps a score of houses, with a towered structure in their midst. The people in its two streets were shadows to me. I did not try to see them better. It was enough that I could distinguish them and avoid their movements. But the houses I concentrated upon.

The nearest I dared not approach, for a woman sat on the stoop spinning. The next, children ran about the yard engaged in a vigorous game. And the third showed a closed door which might be latched against all comers. But the fourth was a larger building and a signboard with a painted symbol swung out over its main door-it could well be an inn.

I strained my power to keep it real and visible as I went in the half open door beneath that board. There was a short passage, a door in it to my left, giving upon a long room in which were trestle tables and benches. Set out on one of those tables a plate with a brown loaf, next to it a round of deep yellow cheese from which had been cut a wedge. Almost I thought they might fade into nothingness as my fingers closed about them. But they did not. I bundled both into a fold of the rug and turned to go, well content.

A figure flickered in the doorway-one of the misty people of the village. I backed to the wall. But the newcomer came no farther in. A little alarmed. I strove to build that wavering outline into a solid person. A man-he wore leather breeks, boots, chainmail under a short surcoat of silky fabric, like in fashion to that of the Riders, save his were not furred. Instead of a helm a cap covered his head, its front turned up and fastened with a gemmed brooch.

He was looking intently into the room, searching, once his eyes swept across me without pausing. Still I read suspicion in his manner. Though he had not drawn it, there was a sword in his baldric, and, being of this land, perhaps he had also other guards and weapons which did not show as openly.

There was another door to the chamber, but it was closed, and to open it might instantly betray me. If he would only come farther into the room, I could slip along the wall and be out-But that helpful move he did not seem inclined to make.

It was a struggle to keep him so sharply in my sight. I was fast discovering that it was easier to "see" the buildings than the people who inhabited them.

I saw his nostrils expand, as if he would sniff me out. Always his eyes searched the room, his head turned from side to side. Then he spoke, in the language I did not understand.

His words had the rising inflection of a question. I tried to hold my breath, lest the sound of the quickened breathing I could not control would reach his ears.

Again he asked his question, if question it was. Then at last, to my great relief, he took several steps into the room. I began my sidewise creep to reach the door, afraid my boot heels would scrape. But the floor was carpeted with a woven stuff which had been, in turn, needleworked in a sprawling design and that deadened any sound. I was in a foot of escape when the stranger, who by now reached the table from which I had taken the bread and cheese, tensed, swung around. At first I thought that by some ill-hap he had seen me. But, though he was now staring straight into my face, there wag no change in his listening, wary expression. Only-he was coming for the door.

With a last effort I was at it, through, intent on leaving the hall behind me. He shouted. There was an answer from the road. I saw another figure before me. Desperately I threw myself forward, one arm held out stiffly. That met solid flesh and bone, though what I saw was a faded blur. There was a cry of surprise as the newcomer reeled back. Then I was out, running in the street, away from the village, back to the road which I was beginning to consider a haven of safety.

Sounds of cries, of pounding feet behind me. Did they see me, or was I safe by that much? I dared not look back. And I let my defence against illusion drop, saving all my energy for that dash across field.

On the verge I stumbled, sprawled forward, to lie for a few seconds to quiet my racing heart and labouring lungs. When I at last sat up and turned my head it was to face nothing but meadow and sky. But I could hear. There was still shouting back there, and now the sound of a horse galloping, nearer and nearer. I caught up my booty bundled in the rug and began to run, along the road, away from the vanished lane. When at last I paused, breathless, there was nothing to be heard, save the twittering of a bird. I had aroused suspicion but they had not really seen me. I had nothing to fear, at least for now.

But still I put more distance behind me before I sat down on a grassy hillock beside the road and tasted my spoils. Better than any feast the Riders had spread for their brides it was on the tongue-that bread pulled apart in ragged chunks, the cheese I crumbled in my finders. The Hound rations had given me energy, but this food was more than that-it was life itself. After my first ravenous attack I curbed my appetite. Perhaps a second such raid could not be carried out and I must hoard my supplies. A bird hopped out of the bushes to pick up crumbs, chirped at me as if asking for more. I dropped some bits to watch their reception. There was no doubt that the bird saw me, as had the fox, the squirrels, the other birds during my day's travel. Why then was I a wraith to those made in the form of humankind? Was it the other side of their defence? For now I was convinced that this coating of illusion was their defence.

Already the sun was well west. Night was coming and I must find some kind of shelter. Ahead I could see a darker patch which might mark a wood. Perhaps I should try to reach that.

I was so intent upon my goal that only gradually did I become aware of a change in the atmosphere about me. Whereas I had felt at ease and light of spirit all day, so now there was a kind of darkening which did not come from the fading of the day, but within me. I began to remember, in spite of my struggle to shut such mind pictures away, the terror of the night before, and all the other shocks of mind and body which had come upon me since I left the Dales. The openness of the land beyond the borders of the road no longer meant light and freedom, but plagued me with what might lie hidden in illusion.

Also-the sensation of being followed became so acute that I turned time and time again, sometimes pausing for minutes altogether, to survey what lay behind me. There were more birds fluttering and calling, doing so in increasing numbers along the verges of the road, or flying low about me. And I had an idea that things peered and spied from farther back.

So far this was no more than a kind of haunting uneasiness. But now I did not like the idea of night in this land. And the trees ahead which had promised shelter at my first thinking threatened now.

It was a wood of considerable size, spreading from north to south across the horizon. Almost did I decide to halt where I was, lie to rest on the verge of the road apart from fields which could hold so much more than I saw. But I did not-I walked on.

These trees were leafed, though the green of those leaves had a golden cast, particularly to be marked along their rib divisions and their serrated edges so that the effect of the woods was not one of dark, but of light. The road continued to run, though the verge vanished and boughs hung across as if the trees strove to catch hands above. It was narrower here, more like the track in the heights. I dared not allow my thoughts to stray in that direction.

There was a lot of rustling among those leaved branches and around the roots of the trees. Though I sighted squirrels, birds, another fox, yet I was not satisfied as to an innocent cause for all that activity. To me it was rather that I was being carefully escorted by a woodland guard of bird and beast-and not for my protection!

Though I kept watch for anything which might promise shelter for the coming night, I saw no place which tempted me to turn aside from the road. And I had come to think it might be well to settle in its centre, hard though the pavement promised to be, rather than trust to the unknown under the trees.

It was then that the road split into two ways, each as narrow as a foot path. In the centre between those was a diamond shaped island of earth on which was based a mound, following the same outline as the portion of ground and levelled on its top. Set equidistant down there were three pillars of stone, that in the middle being several hands taller than the two flanking it.