Wirax let Jael eat her fill before he spoke.
“You said you’ve never known your clan,” he said. “Yet you’ve come near to where the mountain folk live. How is that so?”
“My mother remembered a few hints about her—my father,” Jael said. “She knew his folk had once lived to the north of Allanmere, our home, but that his people were going to move west. After that I followed legends. Even though my father’s people had passed twenty years ago, people remembered them. They called them ghost people, windwalkers. I followed the stories, and that path led me—in a roundabout way—here.”
“Windwalkers,” Wirax said, nodding. “You are of the Wind Dancing Clan, then.”
“Then why did you bring the riding beasts?” Vani asked. “You would have come faster without them.”
“Vani,” Vedara said chidingly. “Her companion is not of that kind.”
“That’s part of it,” Jael agreed. “I didn’t want to come alone. But I don’t know that I’m a—Wind Dancer?—either. I can’t run like the wind. I can melt stone sometimes.”
Vani and Wirax exchanged surprised glances, but Vedara nodded sagely.
“We remember the ones who came from the east,” Vedara said. “The spirits in the grass whispered to me of their arrival, and I sent a message to the Four Peoples, who came to the foot of the mountains—all of them, even the old and the young. There was great celebration among the Four Peoples at their arrival, and they feasted with us for many days. I heard it said by the Enlightened Ones that although those people were of Wind Dancing Clan, there had been Stone Brothers born among them from time to time. But tell me your father’s name again.”
“His name was—is Farryn,” Jael said. “I suppose he would be with this Wind Dancing Clan. Do you know them?”
“We trade with the mountain folk,” Vani said. “They come to us several times a year to barter their metal goods and baked clay pots for our pelts and herbs and woven baskets.”
“Several times a year?” Jael asked, dismayed. “But do you know where they live?”
Wirax pointed to the mountains.
“We meet them at the foot of the mountains, at the caves where we pass our winters,” he said. “There’s a road of sorts, but we have never taken it. The plain is our place and we have never left it.”
“You don’t know how far it might be to their home?” Jael asked worriedly. “Tanis and I aren’t equipped for the mountains.”
Wirax shook his head.
“We’ve never seen their home,” he said. “But we sometimes communicate by messenger birds. I will send such a message to the Wind Dancing Clan, if you like, and they can meet you at the foot of the mountain, if you wish to wait.”
“But we have no way to know how long it might take for them to get here,” Vedara reminded him. “And Tanis and Jaellyn require the treatment of an Enlightened One.”
“Why don’t you have any—uh—Enlightened Ones of your own?” Jael asked curiously. “I mean, since your land borders the forest where the skinshifters live anyway.”
Vedara settled back comfortably.
“There’s a great magic in the heart of the mountains,” he said. “We believe the heart of the world is there, and that the Four Peoples are the guardian of that heart. But just as your blood flows outward from your heart, so, too, does the magic of the world’s heart flow outward into the land here. That magic changes all it touches. Our folk were shaped by that magic, and to this day, some of us are shaped to hold a greater portion of that magic within us.” He raised his four hands in illustration. “The Unformed, too, are shaped by that same magic, but by magic gone awry, as magic often does. The power in the land here is so strong that it changes all it touches, and for that reason, only the simplest of magic can be used safely. Only the Enlightened Ones, who are accustomed to wielding the power of the world’s heart, can use it safely.”
Jael frowned but said nothing. What Vedara had told her was a pretty legend, but it left many things unexplained—where the skinshifters had come from originally and why others could be infected with their curse, why mages far to the east could work powerful spells when they were so far separated from the magic of the “world’s heart,” or where and how the humans and elves, both of whom had come from the east and were only now slowly moving west, had originated. But then, Jael realized, one could walk into any five temples in Allanmere and hear five completely different stories of how the world began, none of which explained everything satisfactorily, and the elves were certainly no better. Maybe what Vedara said was true—for these people, in this place.
“I’d be grateful if you would send the messenger bird,” Jael told Wirax, “but I think Vedara is right. Tanis and I had best start into the mountains and hope we’ll be met. If Tanis can travel, that is.” She looked at Vedara.
“I will give him potions to strengthen him and salves to slow the progress of the sickness in you both,” Vedara said, nodding, “and we will give you warm furs to wear. But your friend must sleep another day, and you should rest as well.”
Rest. What a wonderful word. It seemed like a year since she’d left the inn in Zaravelle, the last time she’d truly slept. Although it was still light, Jael felt she could sleep right where she sat on the ground.
“You can rest in my tent with your friend Tanis,” Vedara said, observing Jael’s yawn. “Come, you can tell Wirax your story tomorrow.”
Wirax appeared disappointed, but Jael was too tired to care She thanked Wirax and Vani kindly for the dinner, but gladly stumbled after Vedara to his tent. After making certain that Tanis was sleeping soundly, Vedara lifted him easily and carried him to the pit bed, settling him comfortably into the furs. Jael started to join Tanis, but Vedara laid a hand on her arm, picking up a clay cup from the ground and handing it to her.
“Drink this,” he said. “It will deepen your sleep and speed your healing.”
Jael took the cup and swallowed the contents quickly. There was no need to hesitate and possibly offend Vedara by her distrust; she and Tanis could hardly be more vulnerable than they were already, and if these folk meant them any harm, there was little enough Jael could do to stop them, asleep or awake. At least this way she wouldn’t lie awake smelling Vedara’s scent and thinking about—well, thinking. The potion was thick and sweet but not disagreeable. She raised her eyes and met Vedara’s knowing gaze, and she flushed, wondering if he could somehow hear her thoughts.
“There are more furs beside the sleeping pit,” Vedara said kindly, taking the cup. “I’ll build the fire higher for your comfort. If you or Tanis wake in any discomfort, I’ll be here.”
“We don’t need to take your bed,” Jael protested. “We’re used to sleeping on the ground.”
“I would be a poor healer indeed if I put my patients on the hard ground and slept on soft furs myself,” Vedara chuckled “Now rest well, dream true, and heal.” He turned to leave.
“Vedara?” Jael asked hesitantly. “How did Wirax happen to find us there at the edge of the forest? You sent him, didn’t you?”
Vedara turned and smiled slowly, his eyes twinkling.
“I sent him,” he agreed.
“But how did you know we’d be there?” Jael asked.
“The forest told the wind, and the wind told the grass, and the grass told me,” Vedara told her. “In my dreams the grass spirits whispered your name.”
There were times when Jael would have chuckled at this, but at the moment she was far too tired. She crawled quietly into the pit beside Tanis. The mound of furs was as soft and comfortable
as it had looked. Tanis murmured sleepily, and Jael curled up against his uninjured side, pulling a few furs over them both. The pungent fragrance of Vedara’s herbal preparations was comfortingly familiar, and the softness of flawlessly tanned furs against her cheek was familiar, too. Jael sighed as her will made one final, feeble effort not to trust these people and relax completely, then surrendered.
Sometime during the night she hal
f-woke. The tent was dark and quiet, the fire glowing dimly, and Jael was far, far too warm. She kicked off the furs covering her, then for good measure struggled out of her tunic as well. Suddenly there were hands helping her, and Vedara’s long fingers were cool against her cheek.
“You are fevered, bright one,” he murmured. “Do your people use willow bark for fevers?”
Jael nodded sleepily. She heard what Vedara was saying, but his voice seemed meaningless, far away and faint. Vedara’s fingers were gone, and she was still too hot, so she wriggled out of her trousers as well. Then she was freezing cold, and she shivered under the furs, squeezing as close to Tanis as she could. Vedara was beside her again, his arms supporting her, and she swallowed the contents of the cup he held to her lips, not caring that the liquid was horribly bitter.
“I’m c-c-c-cold,” Jael murmured, her teeth chattering.
“No, you are very, very warm indeed,” Vedara said gently. “Drink this, too, and then I’ll give you water, and you’ll sleep again.”
The second potion was more palatable, but the wonderful cold water he gave her seemed like the best thing she’d ever tasted, even though it made her colder than ever. She drank until Vedara gently pried the waterskin from her shaking fingers.
“Enough,” Vedara said firmly. “Sleep now.”
To Jael’s dim surprise, Vedara curled up beside her on the furs so that Jael was between Tanis and him, pulling Jael back comfortably against his chest and cradling her with all four arms. The warmth was delicious, and Jael slowly stopped shivering, letting the potion pull her back down into sleep.
Jael woke slowly, still blurred by the potion. The tent was dark and still, but Jael could see a little daylight shining in through the smoke hole and around the door flap. She was covered snugly with a huge pile of furs, but neither Tanis nor Vedara was anywhere to be seen. She must have slept deeply indeed, for she felt wonderfully rested, and someone, probably Vedara, had washed the sweat and grime from her skin. Jael blushed at the thought; just as well she hadn’t woken.
Jael shook her head dully and pushed the furs off her, glancing around for her clothes. They were nowhere to be seen either, but her packs and Tanis’s had been laid neatly by the door. Jael stumbled over and pulled out her spare clothes, dressed lethargically, and peered out through the door flap.
Tanis was seated at one of the low tables, Wirax and Vedara beside him. Tanis was still rather pale, and his right arm was strapped against his body, but he was stuffing his mouth with a gusto that Jael found reassuring. He smiled when he saw Jael, waving her to join him, his hand still clutching a meaty joint.
“Good morning, sleepy!” he called. “A little longer and I would have said ‘good afternoon’ instead. Come and eat!”
That was an appealing suggestion indeed, and Jael readily joined them. She found to her relief that Tanis had already told Wirax most of the details of their journey; it was reassuring somehow that Tanis found these people trustworthy as well. Jael was content to let Tanis finish the tale; that way she was free to concentrate on the food. Despite her illness of the night before, or perhaps because of it, she was ravenously hungry. The grass hunters were duly impressed by the story of Jael and Tanis’s adventures in the dragons’ nests, and nodded sagely when Tanis spoke of the strange enchantment of the Singing Forest; the grass hunters avoided the forest completely, believing it a place of twisted magic.
“We dispatched messenger birds to Wind Dancing Clan last night,” Wirax told her. “But I wouldn’t suggest you wait for their reply. There are frequent storms in the mountains, and their messenger birds are often delayed or don’t arrive at all. There’s still the plain to cross before the mountains, and unless you would chance waiting for them to come meet you at the foot of the mountains, best you begin your journey while the good weather holds and while—” He hesitated.
“While we’re still well enough to travel,” Jael finished. “I understand.”
“I would send some of my people with you, or go myself,” Wirax said, frowning. “But the mountain folk are sensitive of their boundaries. We would not wish to offend them by trespassing on their land without their permission. They are a fierce people and easily angered.”
“That’s all right.” Jael stifled a sigh. She had no idea how a member of this strange race might greet his half-breed bastard offspring, or how his kinfolk might deal with her. It would have been much more comforting to have some of Wirax’s apparently friendly folk with her.
Still, Jael could guess that Wirax had another reason he didn’t want to send any of his people with her: Not knowing how long the journey might take, he wouldn’t want to risk any of his own people in case Jael or Tanis succumbed to the skinshifter curse. Jael wondered if perhaps that consideration, rather than the weather alone, didn’t prompt Wirax’s suggestion that Jael and Tanis leave quickly. Jael could hardly blame them; any human village without a mage to cure shifter sickness would immediately drive the infected away, or more likely kill them.
Wirax, however, did his best to make Jael and Tanis feel welcome. He introduced what seemed to be scores of his people to them in a whirl of names and faces that Jael immediately forgot, but she noticed again that the adults kept a distance between themselves and Jael or Tanis. The pack’s young showed no such wariness but thronged around them joyfully, occasionally slyly extending the shafts of their spears for Jael or Tanis to trip over, poking them or pulling their hair, or suddenly hanging on their arms. Their mischief reminded Jael poignantly of Markus and Mera, and she surprised everyone—including herself—by joining in their play as much as her sore thigh would allow.
From what Wirax told them, the grass hunters were a nomadic race, following the herds of plainsbeasts across the grasslands. During the summer they divided themselves into six Hunts, each with its own range, but the Hunts gathered again to winter in caves at the edge of the mountains, although any Hunt might use the caves at any time of the year when they came to trade with the Kresh. The grass plain itself was almost triangular in shape, wide at the north, but tapering to a blunt point at the south where the Singing Forest almost met the mountains. The Second Hunt was camped near this southern tip now, preparing to follow the herds north to their summer grazing land.
When the grass hunters had enough fine pelts and herbs to trade, they would send messenger birds to the Kresh—whom the hunters called the mountain folk or the Four Peoples—and send a trading party to the foot of the mountain road. Usually the Kresh would have already arrived with their trade goods, exquisitely crafted metal arrowheads and spearheads and the gold jewelry the grass hunters favored, plus more utilitarian fired clay pots. When one of the grass hunters was ill enough to need the attention of one of the Kresh’s Enlightened Ones, or when the Enlightened Ones needed special herbs, a similar meeting would be arranged.
“Sometimes their hunters will come down from the mountains,” Vedara said. “They ask permission to cross the northern part of our lands to hunt the dragons who live in the northern mountains. They hunt the dragons in the mountains, or we stake out plains-beasts to lure the dragons down to the plain and we hunt them together. We help them bear the meat back across the plains, and then there’s a great celebration and feast, their hunters and ours. But there are few other meetings between us. They walk a far different road than we, and seldom do those roads cross.” He glanced sideways at Jael and his eyes twinkled. “Perhaps that is as well.”
Jael quickly looked away, but she realized then that the other grass hunters had not avoided her out of fear of catching the shifter curse; it was out of courtesy, an awareness of the effect their scent had on Jael, and vice versa. Otherwise they’d surely have kept their children, who were too young to be affected by Jael and Tanis’s scent, away from them as well.
Wirax showed them where he had tied the ponies to graze. The grass hunters had a few domesticated plainsbeasts, used to pull the carts and wagons that carried the tents and supplies and to transport trade goods to the foot
of the mountains. These creatures were very different from the plainsbeasts Jael had seen occasionally in the east; these were much larger—almost the size of a horse—and with thick, branching antlers instead of the two spiraling horns she was familiar with.
Vani joined them, returning Jael’s and Tanis’s clothing, which had been cleaned and dried in the sun.
“We took the measure from your clothing and are making warm outer garments from our thickest furs,” Vani said almost shyly. “We’ve never made such garments before, but they’ll be ready when you leave.”
“Tomorrow at dawn?” Tanis guessed.
Wirax nodded.
“Your riding beasts will run faster and longer if you’re not on them,” he said. “Some of my Hunt will carry you and your supplies. I’d take you there myself, but my Hunt can’t spare both its leader and its healer.”
“Its healer? But—” Jael glanced confusedly at Vedara.
“Both of you are far from well,” Vedara said gently. “It’s best that I go with you and continue to tend you. Besides, the hunters who escort you will be more comfortable if I continue to watch your condition.”
“And if you should meet any of the other Hunts,” Wirax said practically, “Vedara speaks as my voice. Not that it’s likely that any of the Hunts will have come to the mountains to trade yet, not after the recent rains. But—forgive me—your appearance is strange enough that another Hunt might not recognize you as friends.”
Jael grinned wryly. It was certainly not the first time someone had found her strange-looking, but it amused her to think that in this country, Tanis’s appearance was as unusual as her own.
There was another huge feast that evening, but the casual manner in which it was enjoyed made Jael realize that the gigantic dinner of the day before had been no special celebration; it was very simply the manner in which the grass hunters ate every day. The amount of meat they consumed, supplemented only by a little bread and very few vegetables, was awesome, and Jael immediately understood why they had to separate into Hunts for the warmer months, each Hunt stocking up its own share of dried meat for the winter and pelts to trade. Otherwise even huge herds of plainsbeasts would soon be hunted into nothingness.
Dagger's Point (Shadow series) Page 26