by Andre Norton
“You…” Hanka, having carefully inspected this array, sat back a little to address Nosh. “Why you come upper pastures. This be storm time—bad for them who don’t know it.”
For the first time since Kryn had gone down Nosh was jolted back to the matter of the quest. On impulse she brought out the bag of Fingers. There was the up-blaze—bright enough to outshine both fire and lantern. She expected some sign of fear from the child. Instead Hanka looked at the bag with that light shining through its sides. Then she pointed with a grimy, nail broken finger.
“What be that?”
Nosh only hesitated for a moment. What harm could there be in showing this child something which she could never have even imagined existed? She drew out the Fingers with care and laid them in a line on the floor just before her knee. They flashed into joyous fire and the warmth they gave off could be felt even though she no longer held them.
“Ahhhhhh!” Perhaps there was a trace of awe in that, but there was something else, Nosh was sure, a surprise—a surprise which was close to delight.
Hanka was on her feet and within two steps she had reached that pole which kept the now drowsing animals from intruding on their own section of the shelter. She reached along the wall there past the barrier and brought into the light a herder’s staff, one which had been worn by long carrying into a slick grey length. At the very top of that there blazed an answer to the display before Nosh.
Once more the child hunkered down by the fire, extending the brilliant spark-laden end of the staff in Nosh’s direction. The girl could see it well, but she already knew that she had found what had drawn her here. The Finger had been pocketed into the wood and kept safe there by a timeworn hooping.
“Lyr…”
Nosh was startled. How could this waif of a herder know of the Fingers? She did not try to take the rod from Hanka; there was a feeling in her, as always, that this must be offered freely.
“The Hands…” She held out her own hands in the traditional way she had been greeted before. Hanka nodded vigorously and then poked the rod at Nosh more energetically. Nosh took that for the permission she had been waiting for.
She drew her belt knife and, with care, dug at the hoop—Hanka holding the staff very steady as she worked. Then the crystal length was free and tinkled down before Nosh could catch it, landing without harm on its fellows. While greater heat blazed forth from that collection.
From behind sounded a moan. Nosh turned. Kryn had thrown off the top cloak cover. Trembling hands were going toward his head. Then his eyes opened. Though he was looking straight at her, Nosh was somehow sure he did not see her.
“Lyr…” Just as Hanka had said that word earlier he repeated it. Then his hands dropped to his side, but true sight came back to him and he looked at Nosh with recognition.
“Power…” he said slowly, not with the resentful accent he had always given to that word. “Power—living power!”
“For the light.” She edged about a fraction more to show that flaming line of Fingers.
He turned his head. His eyes closed and then opened. When he spoke again his voice was stronger. “You have won to your goal then, Nosh.”
“To this goal,” she returned and then spoke to Hanka. “Thanks be to you, little sister….”
“Eylyn said keep safe, wait, one would come. It be promised. Joss keep safe—and then Yankyn…. There be dreams.” Suddenly her face twisted as if she would cry and then it smoothed again. “Yankyn tell me—be ready—take the small herd to the hills and do not come back. Watch for men—devil men—wear shining coats like you—him,”—she pointed to Kryn. “Have bad paint on faces—no paint on yours.
“Five days ago Yankyn come very early, tried to tell others there be death. They say not season for raiders. He said he would go see—but he give this”—she slipped the staff back and forth through her hold—“to Hanka. I be with Yankyn as helper. Ushur—they like me. So I whistle up Ushur belonging to Yankyn’s house and they answer as always though it be early, early— and we come to this place which Yankyn made for storm time in the hills.
“I leave Ushur here in pen and go to lookout tree, climb… see… see fire… big fire and men from far away ride. So I come back—but Ushur must eat—there be no grass packed here. I take them to cup valley where I put this pole for, while it be with them they do not stray far. Then I come back and watch. No one from village… In time only you.”
“Yankyn was your brother?” asked Nosh gently.
Hanka shook her head. “I be no kin. Woman come village long time ago. Not say who she was or from where she came, I be baby then—she carry in basket on her back. She very sick, die. I be left one kin house, then another, and another. The village people, they say I might be bad luck. So none keep me long. Yankyn— he son of chief family but he found me with Ushur and know they like me. Ushur not like everyone. Sometimes hard to handle if one they do not like tries to herd. So he take me.”
“And it was Yankyn who told you about this.” Nosh touched the Finger she had taken from the rod.
“He tell me as secret. People laugh—old thing—no meaning anymore. But he tell me—he believed and so he was right!”
She was silent again, running the staff back and forth in that loose hold, her face half-turned from Nosh and away from the crystals, watching, instead, the fire.
“Yankyn say,” she began again with an almost sly, swift glance at Nosh, “I handle this.” She thumped the rod against her knee. “When we away from village on herd he give to me. Show me different things. Ushur fall among rocks, hurt and bleeding. Rub heal salve with this and Ushur quick well again—no scar to show. In storm, hold this and there is light to see. But people in village do not know—they think only old, old staff, pass from one herder to another—maybe kind of luck thing. Now I know that this be so. For Yankyn said one would come and the herder who had staff then would come to great good luck. So, Lady, you have found me and I found you. And I think that this be a lucky thing.”
Nosh nodded slowly. There was something different in this encounter than there had been in her other discoveries. There had been the skeleton in the wood—a delivery from the chances of long ago death, the ornament in Sofina’s bridal crown (and looking back it was odd considering the dislike in which the merchant’s wife held her that she had allowed that to pass to Nosh at all).
Then the deserted shrine and the aid of the zark and Kryn to bring her what she would have. Kryn’s imprisonment with the murdered priest, and then the fact that they had called upon Lathia for help because there was no other way and she yielded them not only a means of escape but also another of the Fingers. Afterward the storm and Raganat, then here. She could not help but believe that indeed fortune was favoring her. But…
This meeting… Nosh kept thinking back now to that kinless beggar child she had been and whom Dreen had taken and shaped to what she had become. Here was another child like her in a tragic beginning, wanted by no one—save this Yankyn, who seemed to have seen something worth cherishing in her. Even when Kryn regained his full strength, they could not possibly push on leaving Hanka alone in this wilderness.
The raiders out of season—they might well ride back this way. And the Ushur would be bait for any large predator in these hills. No—when they went, they must take Hanka with them, even if it meant a side search for somewhere she could stay. Dast—above all Kryn wanted to return to Dast.
A camp of the outlawed men was hardly the place in which to leave an orphaned child. But in a camp ruled by Lord Jarth, Hanka would certainly be guarded as best they could. Perhaps Kryn was right, they must head east when they could, try to strike the caravan trail and find their way back to Dast. And do so soon, before the heavy storms be followed by the worse weather of winter.
“Eat now.” Hanka had turned back to the provisions before the fire. It was true the smell suggested that the tubers Nosh had provided were well roasted and she used another stick to roll them out, tapping each in turn to loosen the
charred outer peel.
The zark was stretched before the fire, having tidily pushed the remnants of its own eating to the far side. Its belly down, its forepaws crossing under its chin, its great eyes nearly closed, it lay at ease.
Nosh used her belt knife to cut and scrape the soft interior of one of the tubers onto a flat piece of wood Hanka had brought out of another hiding place in the walls and then went to Kryn. She touched his forehead, taking care to avoid that bloody bruise down one side of his face. His eye on that side was swollen shut but the other came open.
“What…” There was more strength in that word then there had been previously in his voice.
“Lie still,” she commanded, even as she had when she had served with Healer Layon among Jarth’s injured men. “Eat….”
She shifted the support of his pack behind him but, when she saw that his hands shook as they reached for the bark plate, she drew that back and set about feeding him bite by bite with the morsels balanced on the point of her knife. To her surprise he made no protest.
But she noticed that chewing was hard for him and she guessed that he was in pain from that jaw hit. He tried only one of the meat-and-fruit chunks and then shook his head. However, he drank thirstily from the bottled drink Raganat had pressed upon them.
When he had done it was plain that he had roused into a need to understand what had happened, and Nosh told him swiftly.
“I remember,” he said slowly. “There were beasts….”
“They are back there,” Nosh nodded toward the other end of the small building. “And this is their herder—Hanka.”
Nosh crooked a finger and the girl edged forward into Kryn’s line of sight.
“From PanHigh?” he asked.
“Yes. They had a warning—a dream—but the dreamer was not given credit by the others. He went to hunt his proof and did not return.” She thought suddenly of that youthful body they had found in the wood, the first warning of what lay ahead—had that been Yankyn?
Now she continued with what Hanka had told her and reached out her hand so that the girl could slide into it the staff now bare of what it had held all these years.
“Thus the call was a true one,” Nosh ended. “There need to be found but two more….”
Kryn gave a sigh and settled his head deeper on the improvised pillow. “Please, Talented One, do not begin another hunt—not yet!” To her surprise a smile curved his lips bringing a twitch of pain to follow when that movement lifted the lips on the injured side of his face.
“No, not yet.” She had rebagged the Fingers and no longer tried to hang it about her neck. In fact it had become too bulky to be carried so. Instead she dared Kryn’s reaction and rested that bundle beside his head, not touching him but close. She expected protest.
He did not try to move his head, but rolled his good eye in that direction.
“I am learning,” Nosh told him, “that there is more to the Power of Lyr than Dreen ever told me. Hanka has seen it help injured Ushurs. And…” She sat silent for a moment, her hand cupped upon the top of the bag. “I left it with you when I went to find help. You were already in wound shock, which healers fear….”
He blinked. “You have such belief?” There was something almost wistful in his voice.
“I have such a belief,” she replied soberly, “that I ask you this night to allow these to remain here. I will swear—by blood if you wish—that they will do you no harm and that perhaps they will work for the good, even of such a determined unbeliever!” Now her tone lightened and she smiled.
“Oh, go and eat, Talented One.” Again his own half smile quirked. “Leave your treasures where you will; I shall not deny you that.”
Hanka had already withdrawn into the midst of the Ushurs in their own portion. When Nosh held the lantern high in search of her she saw that the child was between the warm, thick-fleeced bodies of two of the beasts, her head pillowed on the forequarters of one. It was plain that she had sheltered and slept so before.
Nosh put out the lantern, fearing that they might run out of oil. And added some long-burning pieces of gnarled root lengths to the fire. Then she lay down beside Kryn, her cloak wrapped about her, the bag of Fingers agleam between them. A moment later she felt the zark nudge its way into the folds of her cloak. Nosh closed her eyes with a sigh and heard the fury of the storm without. Perhaps the herders had made a weathertight shelter of this abandoned quarry building, and none of the rain or wind could reach within.
CHAPTER 29
Kryn was awakened by a fearsome noise sending him jerking upward, still half-entangled with the cloak about him. Then a thrust of pain in his head added to his grogginess and he fell back. The noise continued to trumpet, feeding the pain bursting in his skull as if it would break the very bones apart and he groaned, fighting his hands free to hold to his head. There was an addition to the pain as his left hand touched his cheek.
“Suuuueeewww! Suuueeww!” Now a shrill young voice was added to the clamor.
Kryn discovered that he could not open one eye but that the other was staring up into a gloom which suggested that he was under cover of some kind. But the pain fed by that clamor made it hard to call upon any memory.
“It is the Ushurs.” Nosh’s thin face came into sight over him. “They want out to the pasturage. If I aid— can you move out of the way?”
One part of his bemused mind thought Ushurs? but enough of the rest responded so that with Nosh beside him and lending her strength to what little he seemed to have Kryn was able to turn his body, moving closer to what appeared to be a very rough wall.
“Suuuueewee, Bashar!” piped that shrill voice. A huge four-legged form moved through the gloom, something much smaller scrambling along beside it. However, that was just the first of the line of beasts to pass. Whiffs of their rank body odor made him gag a little. Then they were all gone and the space around him was clear enough to see a small fire. But there was another source of light and that not far from his limp hand. He looked at it a long moment sluggishly and recognized it. Then as if a barrier forced to let all memory out Kryn knew where he was at last.
“They go to graze?” he said. “But what…”
Nosh, having watched him closely for a short time, was now raiding their supply bags. “Hanka tells me that the Ushur have a sentry system of their own. She takes them now to a small valley near here where they can graze. But the provender there will not last for long and we shall have to find other pasturage….”
Kryn had recovered enough to catch out of those last words some with an unexpected meaning. “We have to find pasturage. Why, what are these beasts to us. The child, yes, she must go with us….”
“To Dast, yes; Hanka must not be left here. But she will not leave her beasts behind—no herder would. And can you say that those who are at Dast will not welcome such wealth on the hoof? Not for meat—but for what the fleeces will bring come spring shearing. At Dast there will be caravans and traders coming along to deal with.”
“Dast!” The importance of that word as spoken by her caught him. “But—then you will go to Dast?”
She gave a small smile. “If we can find the road, armsman. To simply travel eastward in hope is not quite enough. But I am willing to head for Dast—unless”—she faced him squarely—“the call comes again.”
“May fortune forbid!” he said in answer to that, and now she laughed outright.
“Alas, Kryn, you have indeed been led down strange roads since you agreed, oh, how reluctantly, to show me a certain shrine in Kasgar. But now I lend my will to yours and say Dast. However, not until you are able to walk a steady pace again.”
The storm, which had lasted nearly a day and only cleared just before evening of the one after they had reached the shelter, seemed now to have driven even the clouds from the sky.
Outside the door of the shelter—which was a crazy-shaped erection cobbled out of knobby saplings and smeared with clay—the sun was shining brightly even though it was on its downwar
d path. There was a softness in the air, which provided a welcome freshness after the smell of the animals, one which made one think of spring rather than winter.
Sometimes there were remissions of the cold northern blasts which happened this way, and it would seem they were being blessed by one.
Kryn, finding the ache in his head lessened somewhat after Nosh had renewed the dressings, passing, he noted, the salved wadding over the Finger bag before she bandaged them in place, was sitting up facing the door which the girl propped open. He had found Bringhope and was inspecting the blade, fingerbreadth by fingerbreadth. Its grey surface showed no nick or scratch but he would have felt the better for a chance to give it a good honing in some well-equipped arms room.
Having finished busying herself with the repacking of various small boxes, Nosh came to sit cross-legged beside him. She had taken off the hood which so often shadowed her face and drew in deep breaths of the clean air.
“How far is the caravan road, I wonder?”
Kryn slid Bringhope back in its sheath. “There is no way of telling—we have no merchant’s trail measure. I only know it lies to the east and we will cross it sooner or later if we head in that direction.”
Though his headache faded away, and, in the three days which followed, he assayed walking (stumbling on the first tries), Kryn himself had to admit that he was not yet ready to take a trail through unknown territory which might present greater risks than they could yet imagine.
He spent time in the early evenings after Hanka had brought back her flock questioning the child about the surrounding territory. However, her knowledge was limited since where they now sheltered was a sanctuary discovered two seasons ago by Yankyn—one to be used only in a time of great need.