“I have no idea of who else is in the row of houses,” Venla said, “but I intend to find out this very night. Our dwelling is right in the middle of the row.”
“Difficult to sneak off with guards circling the village so frequently,” Gwyn agreed, “so there is no hope of any quick movement. We will have to rely on the darkness. Besides, we need to keep out bandaged friend here out of the wind.”
Keeping straight faces and moving slowly, they crossed the track and entered the house, barring the door as best they could.
“Who is this?” Ramaji asked upon seeing Zya dressed up in bandages. She looked Zya over, making Zya feel most uncomfortable. If anybody was going to recognise her, it would be Ramaji.
“A friend of a friend,” Venla replied. “Ask no questions. It can wait.”
“Yes Mother, Ramaji replied, still using the caravan honorific. Ramaji already had a fire going to ward off the chilly nights and to everybody's surprise, Gwyn pulled a huge fish out of his tunic.
“You kept that under your shirt?” Venla exclaimed in a whisper.
“Only way to give us a decent meal.” He replied, also in a whisper. “Better this way than having nothing at all.”
They cooked the fish by roasting it in a pot near the fire, and adding what herbs Jani and Ramaji had found on their sojourn into the hills. After they had eaten, Gwyn bade them go upstairs. They took Zya right up into the loft, so that they only had the roof and the floor to worry about privacy over. Even so, nobody dared speak aloud.
“We had a visitor today.” Venla whispered, no longer able to contain herself.
“What sort of visitor?” Jani asked. He sat with his wife propped in front of him for it was not warm.
“The sort that brings glad tidings.” She replied. Gwyn was checking the roof for holes. They did not want anybody to see the candlelight by which they spoke. As far as any guards were to believe, they were occupying the three bedrooms, and not the loft above.
“He had enough credentials to convince us he was who he said he was, a forest tribesman from across the mountains.”
“What was he doing this far across from his home?” Jani asked. By the look on his face it was clear that Jani was as surprised as the rest of them as to the identity of the mysterious stranger Venla was describing.
Venla leaned in, close to them all. “He said he was a recent companion of a caravan, one led by Mavra D'Voss.”
“Mavra?” Jani said aloud.
“Oh, my daughter,” Ramaji said in relief, tears welling.
“What is Mavra doing leading the caravan?” Jani asked.
“Anita was injured when she was hit by the brute. She is well again, but ceded the responsibility to Mavra, who decided that they are going to come and rescue us.”
“They are coming here? Right in the middle of the camp? How exactly are they going to manage that, magic?” It was clear that although he had every faith in his daughter, Jani thought that even this was beyond her, no matter who she had to aid her. Zya felt he would be very surprised in a day or so.
“He did not say. He just told us that when the moon reaches its zenith tomorrow night, they will come out of the North, and take as many as are willing with them. He left our friend here because it's safer with us than in the wild, where he was found.”
As the thought struck home, Ramaji spoke the obvious statement. “But we don't know anybody else here, let alone trust them enough to take them with us.”
“Well we had better go about making friends tonight and be quick, and very quiet about it.” Venla laid out the plans as she saw them, the others listening intently in the quiet room. The rest of the night was split between shifts of watching, sleeping and scouting the surrounding houses. As Venla had explained, they had little or no problem with moving around in the dark between houses for the guards rode patrols along predefined routes outside of sight and sound of the immediate village. There were the occasional watchmen to worry about, but as they rarely travelled beyond the light of the inn a quiet figure in the dark would go unnoticed. One further benefit was that like them, the rest of the captives were assumed cowed by O'Bellah and his mercenaries, for there was no obvious way for them to beat fortifications, guards, and blocked roads on foot. Assumption was to be the mercenaries' worst enemy. Zya waited with patience while her former companions took their turns in scurrying out in search of others. Venla alone made contact with five of the houses, and when she warned them to make ready for a trip the night following they were eager or even excited, but definitely not cowed. Zya's spirits were lifted when Jani and Ramaji returned announcing that all but one of the houses had been accounted for, and they were willing and in most cases able.
The next morning followed all too soon, dawn coming to a cloudy sky and bringing with it the morning chorus as birds sought to greet the arrival of a new day. It was a rousing alarm for Venla, who had hardly dropped off to sleep. “There are more important things for us to think about, including masking the nights activities and spending the day resting as much as possible.” She said when Gwyn commented on the state of her appearance. “We face another night with the potential for no sleep, so take what you can.”
No sooner had they taken what breakfast they could scrape together from the meagre offerings of the guards then the guards turned up at their door. “You two.” The leader pointed at Jani and Ramaji. “You are going to work in the inn. The great O'Bellah has developed a taste for fish, and the rest of you are to fish every day from this point on. That includes your leper. Get your things and go.” The guard slammed the door on his way out, not waiting to shepherd them again.
Venla looked skyward. “Thank the Gods. The situation could not have turned out any better for us. Jani, will you and Ramaji be able to stay awake over there?”
“We got the most rest, Mother,” Jani replied, “so we will be fine.”
“Good. Gwyn and I will be able to rest up, sleep and catch food for the impending journey, and hopefully rags here can help.”
Zya nodded slowly in agreement. Just because she would not speak, didn't mean she couldn't play a part.
“Excellent. You just let us know if it gets too much. Ramaji, you will need to purloin anything you deem of use from the inn.”
“I wouldn't call it purloining,” Jani protested. “I would prefer to use the phrase 'obtaining for the greater good'.”
“Be careful,” Venla warned. “Keep your wits about you. We will see you all later.”
They were ferried to their location, Gwyn insisting that they were dropped a little further around the lake than before. They were left near the bank of one of the tributaries running into the lake.
“Why here?” Venla asked when they were finally left alone.
Gwyn looked about him. “Catch a fish, and I shall tell you.”
Duly obliging, Venla was fortunate enough to land a beautiful fish almost straight off. “The Gods are with us today Gwyn, I can feel it in the air.” She said with a deep breath of the beautiful scent of the valley. Zya was content to remain still and watch the horizon. Such depravity so close by, the peace at the lake was a false security.
“It is a shame that we can't settle down here, drop roots.” Gwyn replied. “The land is so brimming with goodness here it will be difficult to leave the place.”
“I know,” Venla agreed, “But think of all the places we have yet to see, all the villages we may yet still visit. Travellers see those places, settlers do not.”
Gwyn smiled. “Spoken like a true Mistress of the Caravan.”
Venla nodded. “But one no longer. Not unless Mavra renounces the rights and cedes them to me.”
“Will you ask her?”
Venla shook her head. “Never. It is not my place to seek dominion of any form. I would be offered the position, or suffer my place and advise as best I could.”
“And offer advice from the sidelines?”
“Gwyn, I could do that about as much as I could lead an army. I heard a story once
about a group of travellers that underwent a change in leadership and situation. They had three people trying to run the caravan from behind the scenes, each of them suggesting ways to do things better. In the end, they all left, for their subtle ways were becoming obvious and they were too domineering. The new Mistress took a stand and they left. I would never have that of the people I love. If Mavra is content I will offer advice when asked, but never presume to know better than her. Besides, Layric might enjoy the stress-free life.” Venla said the last sentence with a wink and they both laughed. They were looking forward to seeing their loved ones once again. Zya wanted to reveal herself to them, and bask in the warmth, but she had a feeling that it was simply not time.
The cloudy day dragged, for if ever Zya wished a day away it was that one. Venla and Gwyn took turns fishing and sleeping, thus helping them recover from the night before. The fish piled up, more than ever willing to take a bite at an imaginary fly. Once Zya woke up to find herself alone, the rod twitching as a fish was caught. Pulling it out of the ground, she proceeded to land the fish and just as she was removing the hook as she had been taught, Gwyn walked into view.
“Suddenly active, aren't you.” He said. “I didn't think you were capable of landing a fish. Not many I know could perform such a feat while completely bandaged up. Most of them would have been taught by me.”
He knew. Zya was sure of it. She considered her position of silence and while she did Venla returned.
“Where did you go?” Venla dropped a bunch of fresh herbs to the ground.
“Scouting.” Came the brief reply.
“Scouting for what?”
Gwyn smiled mysteriously. “Scouting for some answers.” Gwyn glanced at Zya. When he received a scowl that showed Venla wanted a proper answer, he continued. “I was looking for any signs of a ford across the river. There is one about a mile upstream, and it is not obvious so I left a few signs.”
“Such as 'This way to the crossing?' ”
Venla's sarcasm was an endearing quality. Zya had decided this long ago, and creased up in laughter, forgetting herself. It had the effect of stopping both her companions in their tracks. Zya closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Remember your place.” She whispered.
To their credit, neither Venla nor Gwyn said a thing, though their faces were a picture. Breaking the awkward silence, Gwyn continued his previous conversation. “No, a few woodsman signs; Piled rocks, marks in the ground, twigs bent and snapped in certain directions. I was just thinking an alternative route out would be beneficial.” Gwyn then carefully removed certain leaves from a pouch he had been carrying. “I have got something to give O'Bellah and his cronies a bit of a stomach ache as well.”
Venla looked carefully at the leaves. “Lypar!” She exclaimed. “Won't that kill them? Oh Gwyn, how could you even think of that?”
“The leaves cooked inside the fish will do nothing more than leave them praying at the holy altar of the jakes God for a while.” Gwyn interrupted her outburst. “It will give us more time to escape unnoticed, should the expected come to pass. The leaves are not as potent as the berries, much milder in fact.” Zya recalled how the village of Hoebridge was generally bereft of children, who had all fallen victim to the pretty berries O'Bellah had introduced into the village with his supposedly innocent gesture. As innocent as a murderer was, at any rate. Gwyn tucked a few of the leaves away, but then went about carefully stuffing the rest down the throats of about a dozen of the fish they had caught that day. There were more fish but he left them alone, putting them into a small sack.
“How are we going to hide that?” Venla asked, seeing there was no worldly way of doing so in plain sight.
“You are going to conceal it beneath your skirts.” He answered awaiting the explosion. It was about to come when they heard the thunder of horses off in the distance. “Quick!” He said. “Do it now!”
”I'll get you back for this.” Venla growled at him as she turned and lifted her outer skirt. “Fish in a sack, under my skirt! What an indignity!” She muttered under her breath. Turning away from him she hitched up the front of her skirt and wedged the top of the sack in where it was caught around her waist. “Okay, satisfied?” She said, but Gwyn was still watching the approaching horsemen. “What is it?” Venla asked.
“Those are not guards.” He said quietly. “They are something else.”
Zya peered in the same direction, and could see two bands of horsemen.
“There they are, behind them!” Now the second group of horsemen were catching up the first, and several members of the first group peeled off and with a distant 'whoop' engaged them. Even from the distance that separated them from the battle, they could see the swords flash as the sun dodged in and out of the clouds above. The leading horsemen did not stop, but the second group had lost, and the victors collected the horses and rode on towards them. Venla and Gwyn had no choice but to pack up their things and wait, for this mercenary band was surely coming their way for a reason. There were between a score and three dozen judging from the noise of hooves, and they varied in size unlike the universal broad shape of the mercenaries. They were not all armed either. As the riders closed in, the reason for this became apparent. There were at least two of the villagers for every armed rider.
“The time for escape has come,” Gwyn announced, and picked up his belongings. “I think you can remove the sack now.”
Gwyn's comment had two meanings. Venla removed her fish sack, doing so without any further comment.
Zya slowly removed the sack from her head, out of the view of her companions. The lead riders stopped, and one dismounted. He was a large fellow, all decked out in leather armour and wearing a gnarled club hanging from a belt at his waist. There was a certain stance about the man.
“I swear you look familiar.” Venla said.
“I think you dropped something.” The man said to her, and the voice made Venla's heart stick in her throat.
“That voice. It brings back memories that I felt I had forgotten, of countless ramblings and discreet advice, of love and respect above all.”
The guard removed his helmet and there stood her husband, Layric. Venla looked down, standing with legs astride and a sack of fish between them. She could not have looked more ridiculous, but she ran forward and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight.
Tears came, and Venla wept with relief. She pushed him back to arm's length and took a look at him. He was dressed mercenary fashion, leather and metal abounded. “What in the name of all that is right and good are you doing here?” She asked, afraid to scold him, but needing to know.
“Doing what is necessary, my dearest.” He replied. “There are those out there that need the help of any willing to give it. We are no longer travellers, Venla.”
She looked him up and down. Zya did not remember seeing Layric wearing such garb before. It was obvious that he was relatively new to the clothing he wore, but it seemed as though it were starting to fit him, like an ill-fitting rug that had just been trampled into place. “Well you shall have to show me what other skills you have picked up during our moons apart.” She said coyly, bringing a chuckle from the core of her life.
Layric looked past his wife to Zya. “Did you find what you sought?”
“I believe so.” She answered, bringing both Venla and Gwyn swinging around to face her.
“You..? Where..?” Venla said, confused.
“I knew it.” Gwyn announced in triumph. “You can't take the fisherman out of the family.”
“I couldn't help it.” Zya sheepishly admitted.
“Why did you not tell us?” Venla demanded.
“Not now, Venla.” Layric replied. There will be time for questions later on. For now just accept that there have been some changes.” Layric chucked her robes over, and Zya quickly wrapped them about her.
“Those clothes. Only tribal seers wear that. What are you doing with them.” Venla stared at her for a moment. “No.”
“
We need to leave now.” Zya diverted her attention. “We are not safe.”
Gwyn looked to the arriving riders.
“Anita is not with us, my friend.” Layric said.
Gwyn looked crestfallen. “But the tribesman said…”
“I know what he said, for I gave him the message. She remains out of harm's way for now, on the orders of another. You will see her soon enough.”
Jani and Ramaji rode up, dismounting as soon as they were able, and leading their horses. Ramaji hugged Venla close. “It is good to see that you are still safe.”
“Of course we would be safe.” Venla replied. “Whatever do you mean?”
“What my wife means is that when we were working in the inn, they were talking about their orders to go out and despatch the two fishers. Since we know of nobody else out here, we assumed they meant you.”
Venla went pale. “It never occurred to me that we were actually in a perfectly isolated position, where nobody would ask questions. What has happened to change that?”
“Mavra has happened.” Jani answered proudly, and as if to emphasise his point, three more masked figures rode up to them, the same three that had so coolly dispatched their pursuers. The lead figure reined its horse in and jumped lightly down. Removing the mask, the figure was Mavra but at the same time not. Sunny-haired and fair of complexion she was now tempered with a diamond edge.
“What are you all doing?” Venla asked, almost speechless.
“Saving you, Venla Chemani.” Mavra answered in a tone so similar to her own that Venla could not be sure she had not uttered those words once before.
“But all this?”
“Questions later,” said Mavra. “Mount up and we will talk, but we are not out of the thick of it yet. We have an escape to perform.”
“My wife will ride with me, Mother,” Layric decided out loud.
Mavra grinned. “You sure that horse can carry you both? You are not the smallest of people Layric.”
Layric patted his horse on the flanks. “Old Aroham has pulled many heavier weights in his time, and I want my wife close to me.”
The Path of Dreams (The Tome of Law Book 2) Page 30