"I know," Stara muttered resentfully, no doubt thinking how full the cashbox had been back then.
"Well, what if these people are the same kind?" he asked her, his voice rising with a touch of hysteria. "I'm sure the Sacrificed God has been punishing us for our sin of letting people like that play here while that daughter of yours was here. Worse than that, what if they're magicians? I don't think we should let anyone play here who hasn't been approved by the Church!"
Harperus' words rang at her out of memory. "How long before the signs say, 'No one permitted without a Church license'?"
She grimaced, her expression hidden in the shadows of the wagon. Not that I'd want to play here, with or without a license.
"I would not want to make anyone uncomfortable, much less give them the impression that they were sinning by simply listening to music," Robin said, smoothly. "I personally have never heard of any such nonsense as musicians who were magicians, but since your Priest evidently has, I will take his word that such things exist. And since obviously you don't want us, and no one can prove he isn't a mage, we'll just be on our way. We would never want to play where we were under suspicion, or where our music wasn't wanted." She raised her voice a little more, and pitched it to make certain that it carried. "We are really in no great need of lodging, as you can clearly see, so do not concern yourselves for us on that score."
Not that you would care, but it's a nice little dig, isn't it?
Stara looked disgusted and stormed back into the tap room. The innkeeper followed, wearing a look that mingled triumph and apprehension in equal measure. Triumph that he had his way, no doubt_and apprehension for the way that Stara was going to make him pay for getting his way. The door shut behind them.
Kestrel looked over at her, holding the reins quietly. "Interesting," he said.
She nodded. "I really think we ought to try camping somewhere down the road. Between the bullies and Priests with tales of music that leads you into sin, I'd sooner trust myself to wolves than Westhaven."
"But would ye trust yerselves to ghosts, young friends?" asked a hoarse voice from the shadows of the rear door, across the inn-yard from the sorry excuse for a stable. "An ye would not, turn back 'round and take the long road_or follow th' right-hand fork o' this one."
A stolid woman with a round, red face moved out of the shadows and into the uncertain light of the torch. "She wouldna tell ye, an' he would be just's pleased t'see a sinner come t'grief, but yon's the road over Skull Hill. There be a Ghost there, a murderin' Ghost. It's taken a priest in it's time, no less, so it don't care a tot fer holiness. Yer safe enough by day, but by night, ain't nobbut safe on Skull Hill."
Kestrel nodded, gravely. "Th-thank you, l-lady."
The cook looked pleased at being called "lady." "Tush. Tain't nothin' no decent person wouldna pass warnin' 'bout."
Robin looked closely at the woman; they knew all about the Ghost from Rune, of course, but Rune had described someone very like this woman_one of her few supporters after the innkeeper's first wife had died. The cook_
"Are you Annie Cook?" Robin asked. The woman stared at her, and nodded, slowly, her expression turning to one of apprehension.
"How d'ye know _" Annie began, clearly suspecting Robin of an uncanny, unnatural method of learning her name.
"Rune told me about you," Robin replied quickly, not sure how long it would be before Stara or Jeoff came to chase them off. "She said you were a good friend to her while she was here."
The uneasy expression turned again to one of pleasure. "Rune! I hope th' child's well! She did aright t' run off from here."
Impulsively, Robin decided to tell Annie a more edited_and truthful_version of what she had told the villagers. "Rune is doing wonderfully; she is a Master Free Bard herself, she's wedded Master Bard Talaysen, and they are both in the service of the King of Birnam. She is very happy, and she and Talaysen are expecting their first child in the summer."
Annie gaped at her, then the gape turned into a smile. "Ye don't say! Welladay!" The smile widened. "Why good for the girl! If ever there was a child deserved a bit'a luck, it was that 'un!" She glared at the closed door of the inn. "Not like 'er mother. That bit can't get nothin' without it bein' through some man's bed. An' had Rune stayed here, she'd'a been slavin' away i' that tap room while her mam sat on 'er fat rump an' held th' cashbox."
"Annie?" the voice from within was muffled, but clearly Stara's. Annie rolled her eyes, waved a friendly, but silent farewell, and retreated to her kitchen.
Dark as it was, the road was smooth enough to permit them to travel by night, at least for a while. Kestrel held the horses to a walk. It wasn't as if they had to fear pursuit from the village. It wasn't likely that, even if by some miracle the three bullies got over their fright, any of them would come pursuing the Gypsies in the dark. "S-so that w-was S-Stara," he said. "N-n-nasty, p-petty piece."
"I'd have run off long before Rune did," Robin said thoughtfully. "Long, long before Rune did. That woman can't see past the end of her nose, and if she ever had a generous bone in her, it's long since gone."
Kestrel chuckled. "S-sunk in f-fat."
It was still barely warm enough for crickets, which sang a melancholy tune in the grasses beside the road. Overhead, thin clouds obscured the stars; the overcast was blowing off, but the moon was not yet out. No way to see past the dim lanterns on the front of the wagon, but the underbrush was so thick on either side of the road that there was no chance of the horses wandering off. And this road, according to the maps, went straight to Carthell Abbey without forking.
By way of Skull Hill.
That was according to the map; according to Rune and Annie Cook, the road forked a little way ahead, and while the old road still went over Skull Hill, the locals had cut another, cruder path around the dangerous place. Passable, she had said.
"I th-think, that c-compared to S-Stara, the Gh-Ghost m-must have been a p-pleasant audience," he said, trying to make a small joke.
Robin chuckled. "Certainly more appreciative. And the Ghost rewarded talent instead of stifling it."
"T-true." The horses clopped on, through the thick darkness, carefully feeling their way. Kestrel had been watching for roadside clearings, but there didn't seem to be any. He was beginning to wonder if they ought to stop and camp along here, even if they had to camp in the center of the road. After all, it wasn't as if it got very much use_they were hardly likely to block anyone's travel! By the old tracks they had seen, they might have been the only wagon along here in the past week.
"Th-that p-place where the r-road f-forks should b-be around here s-soon," he said. "What if w-we _"
"What if we go up Skull Hill?" Robin asked, suddenly.
For a moment he wasn't certain he had heard her right. "Wh-what?" he blurted.
"What if we go up Skull Hill?" she repeated. "Confront the Ghost, just like Rune did?"
He had heard her correctly. "Are you c-c-c-crazy?" he spluttered. "Why?"
She laughed; she didn't sound crazy. She did sound rather determined, however. "Why not?" she replied. "Rune did, and she wasn't even fully trained! We already know it likes music, and it might have another silver hoard or something equally interesting to swap for our music. We might be able to get him to grant unmolested passage to Gypsies and Free Bards, and that would be worth a night of playing, alone_we might need a road some day that no one will take."
He chewed on his lip, fiercely, and thought about it. She had a point. She had a very real point. The old road ran this way for a reason; it was a shorter route than the one that Harperus and T'fyrr were taking. If Gypsies and Free Bards knew it was safe for them to use, it could take a couple of days off their trips in this part of the world.
And if no one else would use the road for fear of the Ghost_it made a very neat escape route in case of trouble. From here to Stillwater was no great distance, and Stillwater could be held against even armed men if necessary.
"Let me get a lantern and walk ahead of
the horses, so I can spot the place where the road forks," she said, while he was still thinking about it.
He pulled the horses to a halt; she wriggled back over the bed, and popped out the back with a lit lantern in her hand. She trotted up to take the halter of the right-hand horse, and held the lantern over her head to keep from getting glare in her eyes.
Well, that was all very well for her, but nothing saved him from the lantern-glare! He squinted, but he couldn't quite make out the road. He let the reins go slack; she was the one who could see where they were going_
And he realized a few moments later that she was leading them down the left-hand fork of the road. The overgrown, but obviously older, fork of the road.
"Robin!" he yelped. "Wh-what are you d-d-doing?"
She stopped the horses, and looked back at him, a little defiantly.
"I told you!" she said. "I want to climb Skull Hill to meet this Ghost face to_whatever!"
Robin left the mares and brought her lantern back to Kestrel, placing it at his feet. She looked up into his face, carefully gauging his expression. "I don't think there's any real danger," she said, calmly and reasonably, watching his eyes. "Honestly, or I wouldn't even consider this."
He didn't seem frightened. Of course, he could be hiding his fear. "N-no d-d-d-danger," he repeated sarcastically. "Wh-when wh-who kn-kn-knows how m-m-many p-p-p-people have d-d-died up th-there!"
She took a very deep breath and got a firm grip on her temper. He wasn't saying she was stupid_wasn't even implying it. "When have I ever done anything really reckless?" she asked him.
He looked as if he was about to say something_but thought better of it, and closed his mouth again. "G-go on," he said grimly. "I'm l-l-listening. If y-you have a r-r-real argument, b-b-besides c-curiosity, I w-want to h-hear it."
"I've known something about magic for a long time," she told him. "At least, about some of the tinier magics. Not Bardic Magic, but little things Gypsies take for granted; healing, animal-charming, that kind of thing. And I think I know how this Ghost kills. I am pretty sure that his only real weapon is fear, and he can't do anything unless you're already afraid of him."
Kestrel looked skeptical, but a little less grim. "S-so?"
She licked her lips, and stared at the lamp flame for a moment. "If you're afraid of him, he can turn that fear against you_he can make it so overwhelming that_that it becomes something the human body just can't deal with. The heart races until it just gives up, he chases you until you drop dead of exhaustion, that kind of thing. Maybe some people don't die_maybe most of them don't die, they just run mad in this wilderness until they die of thirst or starve, or wild beasts get them."
"Th-that's v-v-very c-c-comforting," he said with heavy irony.
"But the point is that if you aren't afraid of him, he can't hurt you," she insisted. "Or if you interest him, he won't use that weapon of his! Rune wasn't completely terrified of him_and she interested him. So she was able to stand up to him. I don't know why we can't!"
Kestrel shook his head. "Wh-who s-s-said w-we aren't af-f-fraid of h-him?" he muttered. "N-n-not m-m-me."
She chuckled, as if he had made a joke. "Jonny, do you think I would have suggested this if you weren't a Master Bard in your own right? Think a minute! Rune managed to entertain this Ghost before she was even trained_when she was just a little better than a common traveling musician like all those people back in the Waymeet. Just think for a moment what we might be able to find out from him! Jonny, you're going to be the best thing he's heard in_well, since he got stuck up there!"
The only thing he was vain about was his talent and his ability as a musician. He began to soften as she appealed to that vanity.
"I think we can do this with no danger," she said, persuasively. "I think you could do this all alone, but with two of us there, we can keep from getting too exhausted."
Finally, the stubborn line of his jaw softened, and he sighed. "You r-r-really want t-t-to d-do th-this, d-don't you?"
"Yes," she replied, firmly. "I do. Call it_a sort of test. I want to measure myself against the same standards as the best musicians I know. This is one of them."
He shook his head. "All r-r-right," he replied.
"Th-this m-makes m-more s-sense than wh-what you d-did back in W-Westhaven, anyw-w-way."
And as she led the horses up to the top of Skull Hill, she was left to wonder_
What in heaven's name did he mean by that?
CHAPTER SEVEN
Gwyna was just as glad that Jonny was not as familiar with Rune's history as she was. It had not been easy to convince him to go along with her scheme, but her appeal to his only point of pride had turned the trick. If he had known as much about the Ghost as she did_he might not have agreed even under a threat to their lives.
Robin knew she had a distinct advantage over Kestrel; she had heard Rune tell the story of the Skull Hill Ghost in detail, several times. Jonny had only heard the song. She knew pretty much what to expect, and when to expect it; she knew all there was that Rune had been able to put into words about the effect the Ghost had on people. She had paid very close attention to that story each time Rune had told it, because even before she had ever met Jonny or had learned that she, too, had the gift of Bardic Magic at her disposal, she had intended to come to Skull Hill one day.
Not just because she was determined to prove_if only to herself_that what Rune could do, she could duplicate. No, that was the easy answer, the one she thought Jonny would best understand.
Robin had spent her life in the pursuit of answers for the questions that plagued her. The story of the Ghost had created more questions for her than answers, and had powerfully aroused her curiosity. What was this spirit, anyway? The impression she'd gotten from Rune was that it was not, and never had been, human. So what was it? Was it really a spirit at all, or something more like an Elf, except that it was both more limited and more powerful? If it was a spirit, then why was a spirit bound to Skull Hill? And if it was the spirit of some creature that had not been human when alive, then what had brought a nonhuman creature here, to the heart of a human kingdom, and what had bound its spirit here after death?
And why was it killing people with fear? Rune's story made it very clear that the Ghost was deliberately trying to murder his victims; the deaths that had occurred were as a result of the Ghost's deliberate use of his powers to kill. By that definition it was a murderer.
But the fact that he_it_had also let Rune "buy" her way free with her music implied that the Ghost could spare people when it chose to do so. The things it had said implied that it was not free to leave. Those implications only opened up a horde of questions so far as Robin was concerned.
Before she had ever met Jonny, curiosity had driven her to do things and go places when nothing else would have. Questions would burn inside her until they found an answer. Talaysen often said it was her greatest strength and her greatest weakness, and she didn't see any reason to disagree. But her curiosity had gotten her information that might never have come into the hands of the Free Bards or the Gypsies otherwise, and many times, that information had been important to their survival.
This time both intuition and curiosity had combined forces. This is important, that was the message she was getting from both. She didn't get many "hunches," and she tried hard to follow them whenever she did; they were right more often than they were wrong.
She kept the lantern over her head to keep her eyes from becoming dazzled by the light, and led the horses up the untidy, long-neglected track It wasn't as overgrown as she would have expected, though; no bushes or trees, only weeds, and those looked sickly and were no taller than her calf, even after a summer's worth of growth. She knew what that meant; there was a road underneath this track, one of the Old Roads, the ones no one knew how to build anymore. If she got out a shovel and dug, she knew she would hit the hard surface of one of the roadways that dated back to the Cataclysm; it would be a lightless black substance, like stone but yielding, l
ike tar but much harder. Nothing could grow through it; that was why there was nothing growing on this track but short weeds. The earth and loam that had covered this road couldn't be more than an inch or so thick; just enough for grass and weeds to take root in. There would be no cracks or imperfections in it, unless she came to a place where an earthquake had split it, or the edge of a Cataclysm-boundary, where it would be cut off as if by a giant knife.
The Old Roads usually connected two or more important places_or at least, places that had been important before the Cataclysm. There were often ruins along them. The Deliambrens always wanted to know about Old Roads, so the Gypsies kept track of the ones they ran across. Did Harperus know this one was here?
Probably not. Whatever this segment had connected before, it certainly connected nothing of any import now. Gradford was a very minor city-state despite its pretentions otherwise, and what was Westhaven? Nothing, full of nobodies. A dead-end, dying, and not even aware it was in its death-throes. Too stupid to know that its days were numbered.
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