"There was an ewer of water on the floor near the door, with a clean cloth folded neatly beside it. He scrubbed the blood off his hands, face and neck before he noticed that there was no cut on his forehead. The only evidence that he'd been wounded at all was in the bloodstained tunic and washcloth and the pinkened water in the bowl.
"Terran emptied the ewer out the window and hid his tunic and the stained washcloth among his clothes."
Tris drew a deep breath. "That was Terran's first encounter with the god Altis. In further dream conversations with the night god, Terran was favored with immense power that mimicked the magic used by Winterseine.
"Several months later, Terran—calling himself the Voice of Altis—began to set up an organized religion worshipping Altis with the help of his father."
"Gods," swore Rialla. "It wasn't Winterseine at all." She thought about the odd way that Winterseine had given in to Terran's demands to bed her.
Tris spoke quietly, "The only proof that the dream was real is that Terran's wound disappeared. A small cut in the scalp bleeds freely and heals fast. If the cut was actually above the hairline and very small, it would have been easy to miss it. Moreover, a blow to the head often leads to strange dreams that seem almost real."
Rialla continued the thought. "Of course he would dream of the old gods in such a setting, given his proficiency with the legends. Everyone knows that oil and blood are common components in spell-making; certainly the son of a magician would."
Tris picked up the logical discussion. "I understand that many human mages don't come into full power until after sexual maturity. If he experienced such a phenomenon after his dream, then he would attribute it to the old gods rather than himself—especially someone like Terran, who'd been taught he was useless."
Rialla rested her chin on her hands and gave him a half smile, though it was too dark for him to see it. "I should be reassured; all that we have said points to the idea that Terran's power is the product of latent magic—something we are familiar with. But…"
"But," agreed Tris in a troubled voice, "there is the healing of Tamas's arm on the way to Winterseine's keep. I could feel no magic. I thought that a skilled human mage might use magic in such a way that I couldn't detect it, but I felt the magic in Winterseine's book from the moment we walked into his study."
"I can't feel him with my empathy at all," added Rialla. There was a slight pause, then she said, "I think Winterseine believes Terran is a prophet. When Winterseine touches me, I can read him. There is an undercurrent of fear in him now that he never had before, when I was his slave. I think… I think that what he's afraid of is Terran."
"Do you think Terran really is a prophet?" asked Tris.
"Yes."
"So do I."
Rialla was silent for a moment, then she said, "If Terran is really the prophet of Altis, the invasion we are facing is directed by a god. How powerful are the gods anyway?" She was pleased that her voice was steady.
Tris shrugged. "I've never had a close conversation with one. We can wait here and you can ask Terran if you like, but I'd prefer to remain ignorant. I understand the gods weren't strong enough to halt the Wizard Wars."
"Maybe they didn't want to," commented Rialla.
"Now, there's a cheerful thought," replied Tris dryly.
Rialla laughed reluctantly. "We'll get this information to Ren and let him decide what to do with it."
"Will he believe it?" Tris questioned.
Rialla shrugged, flopped back and pillowed her head on her arms with a sigh, saying, "I don't know. I don't think I was ever intended to be a spy. When we get to Sianim, remind me to tell the Spymaster that he ought to stick with the professionals. I seem to have turned a simple information-gathering mission into defying the gods with a man who claims heritage with an obscure, all-but-forgotten race of tree-folk. I'm sure that if I reflect upon it I can explain how it happened, but I really don't want to think about it that much."
She caught a flash of white in the gloom as Tris smiled. "I haven't heard anything outside, so I think I'll go scout. Let me know if you come to any brilliant conclusions while I'm gone." He picked a double handful of grasslike stalks out of the satchel and rolled over on his back to shimmy out of the thornberry cave.
After Tris left, Rialla sat up again. It would be good to have some time to herself again; she wasn't used to being continuously around people. In Sianim sometimes she would go for days without talking to anyone except her horses. The past month had left her little time to herself, and she was beginning to feel suffocated.
Tris negotiated the dark forest as if it were daylight; his eyes were well adapted to the dim light of the moon. He chose to follow their backtrail, checking carefully for signs of being followed. After traveling a respectable distance, he broke the stalks of grass into small pieces and scattered them on the trail he and Rialla had left. Histweed would be even more effective than pepper for irritating the nasal tissues of any animal tracking them. When he had used the last of the herb, he dusted his hands clean and looked around.
He had reacted without thought this afternoon when he realized Rialla had exposed herself to such danger. When she'd backed away from his anger, her fear had tugged at the link that bound them together and triggered an atavistic rage for which he'd been unprepared. Although he'd been told a threat to the bond could cause such a reaction, he'd dismissed the warning when Terran's rape had called forth nothing unusual. Apparently the rape hadn't qualified as a threat to their bond. He'd been able to control the rage this afternoon long enough to continue his attack deliberately, hoping she would fight back. If she had run from him… He would rather not know what could have happened. His laughter had been as much relief as amusement. He needed this time away from Rialla to collect himself.
Their backtrail covered, he decided to find the Uriah; it would be helpful to know where it was so they didn't waste time avoiding it unnecessarily. Without Rialla's human presence, he was free to travel by sylvan ways. That would let him find the Uriah and return to Rialla before she started to worry about him.
Humming under his breath, he called to the magic around him, and spun it swiftly to form a tunnel before him. He continued to spin as he walked into the shadowed way that lead straight through the hills and valleys lying in his path. The abundance of yew and oak here heightened the effect of his magic, and it took him minutes to cross the distance it had taken half a day to travel.
When he reached the place where he and Rialla had last seen the Uriah, he closed the tunnel and emerged near the stream they'd followed most of the day. He set off in an easy lope through the trees. It didn't take him long to find the kill: a moose. Its bones were scattered along the path the things had taken—from the tracks it seemed that there had been more than one Uriah.
Tris stumbled over half of one of the heavy leg bones, snapped neatly in two; he marveled briefly over the strength needed to crack the dense bone. He spared a moment to be glad the creatures had happened upon the moose rather than him and Rialla. The Uriah's trail was easy to follow, even in the dark. Broken branches and torn-up sod where several had briefly scuffled over something were as clear to Tris as a chalk arrow drawn on the trees.
Topping a hill, he caught sight of a small fire to his right. He dropped to a walk and left the Uriah's trail to investigate the camp.
As he neared the fire, Tris caught the salt-sweet smell of horses and was careful to stay downwind as he approached. The animals shifted uneasily at the noise he made climbing a tree, but they calmed down when he made no aggressive moves.
From his vantage point, he could see there was no one in the small clearing, but the wood in the fire hadn't been burning long. Tris assumed that whoever had built it would return, and he settled in for a long wait.
He made out Winterseine's voice first, as the campers returned.
"… don't understand why you insisted on leaving the guards behind. This is a dangerous place."
"Precisely, Father. The mor
e people that are running around the more likely we are to attract the attention of any brigands or Uriah that are in the area. I can handle thieves or Uriah, but I can't protect a troop of men from them." Terran's voice sounded more decisive than Tris remembered.
Tris crouched where he was and watched as Terran and Winterseine returned to camp with several cleaned fish on a string.
"We can't afford to let her get to Sianim with that dagger. If I am implicated in Karsten's death, it would keep me from controlling Darran. Are you sure that you know where she is? We haven't seen as much as a footprint." From Winterseine's intonation, Tris received the distinct impression that it wasn't the first time that Winterseine had questioned the direction he and Terran were going in.
"I told you, she's stopped a league or two southwest of here." Terran's voice had a bite to it. "We'll catch up with her sometime tomorrow. You haven't seen her tracks because we're not following their trail. This route is more direct than the one they've been taking."
Winterseine asked the question that was foremost on Tris's mind. "What do you mean their trail? I thought she was alone."
Terran grunted then said slowly, "No. She's been traveling with someone else. I can't quite see who it is—he may be a magician of sorts." He paused, then commented, "He's not with her now, but he was most of today. I suspect that he might have helped her get out of the hold."
"You mean that she's traveling with a magician?" asked Winterseine in arrested tones.
Terran nodded and began to prepare the fish for the fire.
Winterseine had his back turned so that Tris couldn't see his face, but tension coiled in the human's stance. "She stole my grimoire. We need to find them as soon as possible, before the magician realizes what he has."
Terran stopped working with the fish and looked at his father intently. "And just what is it that he has? Your spellbook? The one taken was the one that you wrote as an apprentice; certainly there is nothing there which a magician wouldn't already know."
Tris, watching unseen, thought about the sheets of parchment that had fallen out of Winterseine's spellbook and wondered.
Winterseine hesitated. "There were some spells there my old teacher gave to me that I would rather not pass down… and I do not relish the thought of another wizard paging through the book."
Those pages must be important, thought Tris with satisfaction.
Terran turned his attention back to their dinner, and Tris took advantage of the moment to leave the tree. He eased quietly back into the forest and lost himself in the shadows.
Thoughtfully, he resumed his search for the Uriah. The search had more urgency now, as it seemed that he and Rialla would be traveling tonight, and he didn't want to be stumbling into a group of Uriah in the dark.
He smelled them long before he saw them and, remembering tales of their acute senses, used his magic to draw the darkness more tightly around him and cover any sound he might make before he approached more closely.
There were six of them sleeping; Tris was struck by how human they looked at rest. When he'd seen the one before, he hadn't noticed the resemblance; they didn't move like humans any more than a wolf moves like a dog. At rest in the dark, they seemed nothing more than a filthy group of people.
Tris found another tree to climb, one that gave him a clear view of the Uriah. All of them were male, but Tris had expected that. He'd never heard of a female Uriah.
On the far side of the pack, one of them had used the root of an old oak as a pillow. There was a heavy branch above it that looked sturdy. Closing his eyes, Tris felt for the magic that connected all of the trees in the forest, then he looked for the particular tree he wanted. When he found it, he traveled along the flow of magic, reemerging on the branch of the oak, with the Uriah sleeping just below him.
As he looked down, he realized he was closer than he'd ever been to one of them; a shiver ran up his spine. Irritated with himself for his uncharacteristic fear, he craned his neck until there were no leaves between him and the sleeping creature. That was when he noticed something around its waist. A sturdy leather belt hung loosely on the Uriah's hips; the broken strap of a sword or knife sheath was still attached to it, though the sheath was gone.
The thing below him, in spite of everything Tris had ever heard, had once been human. The healer in him stirred. If this were some kind of disease, he might be able to reverse it.
A single Uriah he might have held still with his magic so he could examine it, but there were too many for him to risk coming any closer. The one below him was touching the root of the oak Tris perched in. It would not be as efficient as touch, but the tree could serve as a conduit for his magic.
Tris braced himself more securely on his branch, then searched for the thread of magic all living things have. He followed the flow of the tree's magic to its roots and reached out for the creature that he knew was there, and touched…
Back in the sheltering thornberry, Rialla rose to her hands and knees at Tris's agony. Taken unprepared, she cried out. She sought him, dropping her barriers recklessly in her worry.
Rialla? It was faint, but it was clearly his voice that answered her frightened call.
Are you all right? she asked urgently, though she could tell that he wasn't hurting now. The revulsion and shock that he felt were still strong, and made it difficult for her to read his thoughts over the din of emotion.
Yes… talk later, when I get back, he said.
She sent her agreement and withdrew from him, waiting alone for his return.
The Uriah had woken at Tris's involuntary cry. Realizing that food perched just overhead, the one below him began to climb the tree, making an odd mewling sound as it did so.
Tris pressed his face to the rough bark of the oak. It was almost more than he could do to reach for another tree near enough for his purposes. He found another oak on the far side of the clearing and used his magic to pull him there. It took four such jumps before he quit smelling the Uriah.
Tree bark slid past his hands as Tris fell to his knees with bruising force, retching helplessly.
The Uriah that he'd touched was dead, but held to mock life by human magic so twisted that when he touched it and tried to coax it to his use it felt as if he'd touched molten rock with his hand.
Tris took in a shuddering breath and rose to his feet. Seeking out the stream, he threw cold water on his face. The shock of the temperature did much to alleviate his queasiness. Traveling through the trees was hard and draining work; it took him two tries before he was able to form the tunnel that would take him back to where Rialla waited.
* * * *
Rialla was pacing outside the cave of Thornberry when Tris came back with his backpack. On a forked stick near her were two good-sized trout.
"Are you hurt?" she asked, taking a step toward him.
"No, but I'm hungry."
She eyed him narrowly, but the link between them informed her that he was not lying. After catching the fish, she'd gathered enough wood for a small fire, and she nodded at it. "Is it safe to light the fire? I don't know about you, but I prefer my food cooked."
"The Uriah are too far from here to smell the fish cooking. Our other pursuers are doubtless asleep by now." He lit the fire with a bit of magic and sat down near it.
"Other pursuers?" Rialla questioned, filching the knife he carried in his boot.
"Winterseine and son are camped an easy morning's walk from here. Apparently Terran doesn't have any trouble tracking our movements from a distance." He described briefly what he'd overheard.
"Is that where you got hurt?" Rialla questioned with a touch of concern, cleaning the fish. She discarded the entrails behind a nearby bush.
Tris shook his head. "No, that was the Uriah and my own stupidity. After I saw Winterseine and Terran, I hunted for the Uriah—there's a pack of six—so we wouldn't run into them trying to escape Winterseine. When I found them, I thought that I could help them with a touch of healing. That's where I got hurt."
"No," he answered. "I think I learned my lesson the hard way."
She laughed and handed him a fish and a handful of willow branches. Taking her own fish, she hooked it on a larger forked willow branch and began to weave a crude basket around it. "Tell me how you traveled 'an easy morning's walk' and back in such a short time."
"Magic," he replied easily as he worked on his fish.
They roasted their fish in silence broken only by the spit and hiss of the fire. Watching flames dance, Rialla examined all the possibilities that she could think of, until only one remained.
"How long would it take you to travel to Sianim by yourself?" she asked.
Tris looked up from his fish. After a moment he shrugged. "I can only use the faster ways until I reach the road, so it should take two days, maybe three, assuming the cook was right when she told me how far it was from the crossroads to Sianim."
He turned his gaze back to the fire. "I'll not leave you behind. Getting the dagger and the books to Sianim is not worth your life."
"Nor is it worth yours," she answered. "I agree, but I don't think they'll kill me—I'm a valuable slave, remember? I believe Terran is the Voice of Altis, and it is important that Sianim be made aware of it. You said Terran can track me; then let him. It will give you time to get the journal away. If we wait for him to catch up with us, they may win it all. It would be idiotic to assume your magic could overcome both a magician and a prophet of Altis. In fact, your being with me could put me in worse danger. They still think I am a slave. They want the items we stole, and they'll keep me alive at least until they find out where those things are."
Tris said nothing, so Rialla spoke again. "I might be able to evade them while you take the books to Sianim and return here to help me. Without the necessity of reaching Sianim, I can choose a path that gives me an advantage over a mounted pursuit." She knew that if Terran had some god-given means of tracing her, she would be caught. If she were careful, though, she might be able to stall them until Tris could return and help her escape.
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