by Andre Norton
Liara loosed the hold of one hand on Destree and rubbed her grimy forehead. Then suddenly she spoke, her voice scaling upward as if once more she were entering to the clutch of panic.
“Lady—I hear in my head. Those who deal with magic are tainted so. See, now the Darkness shows in me!”
“Not Darkness, Liara—you are now daughter to the Lady. She gives many gifts—the opening of thought to thought is one. Did you not learn that at Lormt?” She smiled.
“Now, these rocks are too hot to perch on with any comfort. Let us move on. Gruck will carry you until we can decide some proper foot coverings, for your flesh would be torn to pieces here. See, even my trail boots have their own tale of gashes.”
For a moment Liara’s features tightened as if she were about to object to that. The giant held out his hand and her small, dirt-grimed one was swallowed in his grasp. She stared intently into his wide face, and their eyes locked for a moment, and then she said:
“There are dreams which one can be caught in, so deeply that all seems real. Perhaps this is a dream, but if it be so, I accept it.”
They moved out of the glare of the sun on the dark rock and came to a cup of welcome shade. Destree shared out food and for the first time Liara ate for herself, though Destree was glad at that moment that it was dried bits of the leaper and not some of Gruck’s grubs she had to offer,
They—these who come from the north—the giant’s thought-speech was not interrupted by the clump of his mighty jaws—were heading south and west?
He leaned back a little, his hands braced on his knees, his head turning slowly as if he made some detailed thought record of all he could see here.
Liara nodded. “There was a country called Var by the western seas, but there they did not plan to go.”
“This is a wide land,” Gruck continued. “Can those of the party who have such Power link minds to guide us?”
Slowly Liara shook her head. “Nor might they wish to. I know that the witch—she must have guessed what pulled the Gray Ones upon us. Why would they want me to draw the attention of the Dark to the path they take?”
You, Sister in Service—that head swung now in Destree’s direction—does this seem true to you?
“Only from one way of thought—” Destree was beginning when suddenly Liara cried out, pointing skyward.
“Falcon—see, it comes to search us out!”
The bird had turned in a wide circle and was indeed heading back toward them. Destree watched it eagerly. She had served on ships where Falconers had been marines. And where there were falcons, surely those who called them brother could not be far away! It was swooping lower; waving or calling to the bird would mean nothing, for it answered only to the signals of its bonder. Yet, when it made two circles about them and then sped westward, she was sure that their presence would be speedily known to those who had launched the bird.
• • •
It would seem that they must retrace their way, Keris thought. How far must they rove now? The flight of steps facing them could be climbed perhaps by humans, but the pack train could not attempt such a feat.
They established a temporary camp. As he went about his regular duties Keris wondered how many of his companions were as disheartened as he. There was very little talk among them and most of them were frowning.
He passed by Mouse, who was sitting a little apart, her now well-worn and hem-tattered robe huddled about her as if she needed some shelter against a chill wind. Her hands were folded in her lap, but her attention was all for that forbidding flight of stairs. Was there, Keris wondered fleetingly, some trick of the Power which could waft them to the top? After all, in their time the witches had moved mountains as if those were child’s buckets packed with sand. But Mouse was one alone, not a whole council-in-order of her kind—not that he believed that the witches, who had nearly wiped their kind out of the world by such action in the past, would be ready and willing to try such again.
He saw a flash of movement across one of the steps—a flick of brilliant color. The thing fled for a space and then spread nearly transparent wings so that he could see its likeness to one of the lizard flying shadows on the wall now well behind them.
Wings—well, only the falcons possessed those. Even as that thought crossed Keris’s mind both of the Falconers sent their birds aloft for scouting.
It was still only midafternoon and there was something about their crowning disappointment which seemed to make them all languid. He fastened the last of the ponies to the picket line and the creature, though it showed its teeth for an instant, did not snap at him as he had expected, preparing to dodge.
The Keplians and Jasta were, of course, never picketed, and for some reason they were walking in single file, like mages intent on some rite, along the foot of the stairs. The Lady Eleeri stopped sipping from her water bottle to watch them, her eyes narrowed as if to intensify her gaze.
Keris dropped down not too far away. Lord Romar and the others were busied with that map, which was Romar’s particular charge. But no one was making any suggestions. It was Mouse who spoke, and her voice, soft as it was, carried to rouse them all.
“Lady,” she said to Eleeri, “what say these you have won to our aid?”
It was the mare Theela rather than Eleeri who answered.
*We can go—and this one.* She nodded toward Jasta. *The dumb-tongued ones*—she used a sharp sneer Keris had never heard before, as she indicated the Torgians—*if they go free of riders or all else in the way of burdens and are aided. But those—* she snorted in the direction of the ponies, *this is not for them!*
Keris’s protest was being framed even as Eleeri answered. Much as he detested the small beasts, what they carried with every day’s travel southward grew the more important. Boots must be repaired, shoes for the Torgians replaced; the scaled-down necessities by which they lived could not be just left here.
“There is need, Wind-Swift Sister”—Eleeri used both mind and tongue speech to answer the mare—“for what they carry. Nor can nearly half of it be taken on without them. We have willing backs, but we go into the unknown where there may wait such hunters as would welcome travelers heavy with gear.”
Lord Romar rolled up his map. “It would be best to wait until the birds return. If there is a way beyond this trap we have gotten ourselves into, perhaps they can point it out.”
All were willing to agree to that. But Keris roused himself and went to the dump of packs, noting by the brand mark on the hide cover of each just what was within. The more he looked, the less he believed that anything at all could be discarded and they not suffer from its loss later.
Taking advantage of a halt in a place which could be easily defended, the party began to get to tasks of their own setting. The packs were opened for supplies to repair boots, arrow shafts to be fitted with heads, kits for the stitching up of the worst of tears which the mountain growth had left in their clothing.
The Escorian found again the knife which had been Liara’s. It was as clear in the sun as if it had never been blood-clouded, but when he held it in his hand he was nearly startled enough to cry out. For the sense that what he held was by loan only and that the Alizondern would return to claim her own was as clear as if Mouse had proclaimed it.
Swifttalon was back first from the scouting, and after communicating with the bird, Vorick reported that there was nothing to the east but mountains rising ever higher, mostly bare now of any growth.
His fellow scout was delayed so long that Krispin was plainly ill-at-ease and paced back and forth, his helm discarded so that he could stare farther skyward in search.
When at last the falcon came into sight, they all felt a measure of relief. The bird came to rest, panting, its bill open, and Denever, who was nearest, held up a small metal cup he had just filled so that the bird drank.
Krispin smoothed its feathers, using those slurred sounds which were soothing and plainly gave comfort. He waited, the others crowding in about him, for Farwing t
o deliver his message in his own time, when he felt once more strong enough.
Maybe Mouse could pick up the very high-scaled bird speech, but the rest had not been trained to catch it. And it seemed to Keris that they were never going to learn what lay ahead or why Farwing had been so late returning.
“There are others—above.” Krispin indicated the staired cliff. “Among them is the Alizondern female.”
“Gray Ones?” Denever demanded.
“Not so. One serves She whom some call the Lady, and the third is like no living thing my brother has seen before.” Again Krispin caressed the nearly exhausted bird. “They are well to the west, but now they move toward us.”
“The Lady,” Mouse said. “Then that one stands in the Light and perhaps these are the ones you saw in the sending, Keris. If so, it is plain that their way is also ours in the end.”
Theela pushed forward. Her usual mind-speech carried the bite of irritation. *This way can be climbed—have I not already said so? Though those flat-footed ones you call Torgians will need aiding, mountain-bred though they claim to be.*
One of the Torgians snorted almost as if he had caught the Keplian mare’s insult, though as far as Keris knew his breed lacked the human range of mind-touch.
With the exception of Mouse, they moved back to view the packs, most now open to be rummaged through. Denever went down on his knees beside one which had not yet been loosened and came out after a moment’s delving with a coil of rope.
This led to a search in which most of them took a part—though in the end what they had discovered was, Keris believed, not enough to answer any great need.
The Lady Eleeri had pulled one of the pack bags itself out into the open and was on her knees beside it. It was of well-thickened hide, coated on the outer side with a layer of hardened sap from the umpas—the best moisture protection known in Escore.
Straightening the now-flattened bag out on the ground, she began to measure it with the width of her palm and then nodded.
“Here we have fortune’s gift. But it must be carefully prepared. One cuts so—not straight but in a circling toward the center.” Chopping past the buckles and ends of straps, she began to follow her own instructions, and her blade was keen enough to pierce both covering and hide so that shortly they could see what lay there was a coil a little more than a finger wide, the loops of which answered sluggishly as she caught the outer end and whirled it up and around. It still showed a tendency to recoil, but the Borderers were ready with stones to pull it as taut as they could and straighten it out.
The confusion of the camp grew the greater as more and more of the bags were emptied and slashed after the pattern the Lady Eleeri had set. Keris, moving boxes of stores to clear more working space, came upon Mouse.
She was standing beside the larger pony, which Liara had ridden, and her hands were cupped about its muzzle. Knowing the temper of the beast, he would have moved to pull away. Then he heard a low crooning and saw that not only this larger mare but all the stubborn-tempered train were standing without any of their usual signs of resentment at the nearness of humans.
Mouse looked over her shoulder at him. “These, in spite of their uncertain tempers, have been faithful servants. Loose their picket ropes now.”
“But—” he glanced back at the very busy scene behind him.
“They cannot follow—but this is a land not unlike that of their foalhood. Loosen them to find their own place in the pattern of things as should be.” There was not only the crack of a command but a certain solemnity in her words. He found himself indeed loosening the halters from the beasts, which for the first time since he had taken charge of them stood quietly under his hands.
Liara’s mare turned and trotted down the canyon and the others fell in behind her as if they were a party of Border Rangers under her command.
“What do you do!” Denever came up as the last pony, with a contemptuous flip of its tail, passed out of reach.
“They can go no farther,” Mouse answered. “We must do now as best we can.”
Once more they sorted supplies, and this time it was a more momentous thing to say this will be needed, that we can leave. For who knew the country beyond, though the falcons had reported that it seemed thickly wooded with no sign of any keep or building?
So the shoes of the Torgians came under strict examination from Vutch, who had farrier skill, with a replacement here and there. The Keplians and Jasta went bare of hoof as always.
They were another day at such preparations and the falcons were sent out once again in the later afternoon, reporting that the three sighted from aloft were still headed along the crest of the stair cliff. Mouse made her report to Lormt and had a fraction of news in return—there had been a Sulcar ship in from Arvon, the crew of which reported rumors of trouble in the Waste and said that a Border guard enlisted from the Dales lords and those Falconers who had settled in Seakeep were on the move, to set up their own defenses. But of those in the Eyrie there had been no word—nor had any come from Hilarion that he could once more have speech with Alon.
Of the Sulcar ship which had headed north to follow the tradition of their own legended gate there had come no news at all.
Keris had not slept soundly through any night since that during which he had suffered from the sending. Now he lay looking up at the stars, which seemed very bright in their hard glitter tonight, and wondered. Such journeys had seemed to be the best of all measures at the great meeting at Es City, when they had been so busied with preparation at Lormt. But they were no army, merely scouts. What if any group of them discovered more than could be faced with any hope of survival?
By the next morning they were ready to make their attempt on the stairs. The packs, cut down to what a man might shoulder, were lashed together with hide ropes and left at the foot of the climb to be drawn up after human and animals had made their successful journey. That which they could not hope to take with them—both in the way of additional weaponry or other supplies—was stacked and covered with piled rocks.
Theela tossed her head and moved out before any signal had been given. She planted each hoof firmly and mounted the stairs as if she had been accustomed to such travel all her life. Behind her came the Lady Eleeri and the Lord Romar, followed by the two other Keplians and Jasta, with a reassuring calmness (or at least Keris found it so) radiating from him.
The Torgians were not as confident and each had to be led up one at a time, a man at either side, with supporting ropes, though Keris could not believe that any such precaution would really protect against the consequences of a misstep.
Twice he himself made that journey, striving to keep his own nerves under control so that the sweating horse he was helping to guide would not sense his unease.
Somehow they were all at the top at last, standing on a wide plateau which seemed to narrow southward like a finger pointing them on. Then began the hauling up of the packs under the heat of the sun, and the constant sense of what might happen if balance was to waver, which seemed to go on forever.
They all lent a hand as necessary, save that Keris had not seen Mouse since she had made the climb with her hand resting on Jasta’s dusty shoulder. Once the last pack was up, they simply collapsed where they were in a ragged line along the cliff top. The Keplians appeared to be herding the Torgians to the east, where there were some signs of greenery. Keris thought longingly of water but could not summon the strength at present to move in search of it.
A falcon’s scream brought them back to sudden alertness and they scrambled for the weapons they had dropped when they manhandled the store packs upward. Farwing cruised over them, screamed again, and then headed west.
Keris, swaying a little, had gotten to his feet. His rock-scraped hand went for the butt of the force whip. But there was no wave of rasti bursting out of nowhere to bring them down. Rather, two figures moving at a slow but steady pace, with a third clinging to the back of the black-furred thing of Keris’s sending. Was this another a
ttack of that experience?
No, for those about him were all astir, and between the party who had come up the stair and those three, Mouse was running as if in answer to a summons she could never disobey.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Into the Unseen, the Unknown, Southward
T he three from the east had halted, almost as if, Keris thought, they awaited some sign that they were welcome. Seen in the daylight, the furred giant did not possess, or at least Keris found it so, that suggestion of menace which had been like a cloak about his wide shoulders when the Escorian had been caught in the sending.
The giant creative supported Liara, and Keris could see that there were wrappings about the girl’s slender feet, but surely no coverings as would stand up to walking over the rough rock.
Mouse was well out in front, but now Keris, who stood the closest of the rest of the party, ran after her. That he could defend a witch was thought born of folly. Still she looked so small, kilting up her robe so she could run faster, that involuntarily he followed.
The other girl of the trio, whose scratched and torn trail clothing showed hard travel, held out from her breast a pendant of deep golden color. At the same moment she brought that into view, Mouse halted some paces away from the three and raised her jewel. Both blazed—and to Keris it seemed that circles of fire spread out from each . . . but not in opposition, rather uniting, until his skin tingled and his sweat-damp hair moved on his head from the vibration of that Power meeting Power—in equal greeting.
“Greetings to you, Witch.” The girl smiled as one would at a friend long sought. “All good to you from the Lady!”