Song of the Wanderer

by Bruce Coville

  A waterfall ran down the right wall, reminding Cara of how thirsty she was.

  “Food and drink for all,” said M’Gama, as if she had read the girl’s mind. Flensa quickly began bringing bowls from the kitchen that Cara had noticed earlier. The bowls were made of stone. The ones she gave the unicorns were large — so big, the dwarf could barely get her arms around them — and filled with dried flowers.

  After watching the dwarf carry in the first bowl, Cara went to help her.

  “Where did all this come from?” she asked when they were alone in the kitchen.

  “Here and there,” said Flensa. “I prepared it while you and my lady were in the earth.” She paused, and her face looked troubled. “I also went out to search for any sign of the ones that Belle says are following you. I had to cut short my search when I sensed my lady was in trouble.”

  Cara looked at the dwarf curiously. “How did you do that?”

  Flensa shrugged. “M’Gama and I have a . . . connection.”

  Cara hoisted one of the bowls and staggered under the weight. She glanced at the dwarf in surprise, wondering how the tiny woman could carry them so easily.

  They arrayed the bowls along a table, which was also made of stone and built at a comfortable height for the unicorns to eat from while standing. Once these bowls were all in, Flensa gestured for Cara to stay in the main hall. She scurried back to the kitchen and returned a moment later, pushing a cart that held a large black kettle. From the kettle she dished up three helpings of a simmering vegetable stew. The stew seemed to be made mostly of roots; Cara recognized one of the ingredients as tarka, something the Dimblethum had taught her to eat.

  The Squijum, who had been climbing the stalagmites at the back of the room, came scurrying back. “Food, food! Hotcha wowie much good!” he said, looking for his own bowl. When he realized there wasn’t one, he made a howl of protest. Flensa laughed — the first time Cara had heard her make such a sound — then produced a final bowl from beneath the cart, a bowl filled with nuts, berries, and uncooked tarka.

  “Yum!” cried the Squijum, diving at it so ferociously Cara was afraid he would send the entire contents scattering across the table.

  Flensa disappeared back into the kitchen.

  “Isn’t she going to eat?” asked Cara.

  “She prefers to do so alone,” replied M’Gama.

  They dined in silence for a while. Cara, anxious to hear what M’Gama had learned, had a hard time settling down to eat. But the stew was surprisingly good, and (even more surprising) somehow soothing. It tastes like home, Cara decided at last.

  Finally M’Gama pushed aside her bowl and said, “Now we must talk.” Raising her voice, she cried, “Flensa! Bring the maps.”

  A moment later the dwarf scurried in, clutching an armful of scrolls, each almost as long as she was tall. She placed them in front of M’Gama, who sorted through them until she found the one she wanted. After clearing a space on the table, she unrolled the scroll, setting small stones at the corners to hold it in place.

  “Look,” she commanded.

  The company gathered around her, some on the far side of the table, some right next to her. Cara studied the map for a moment, then asked, “Why are there so many blank spaces?”

  “Unicorns are neither mapmakers nor land claimers,” said Thomas.

  “Those are human traits,” added Moonheart, with a faint touch of disdain.

  M’Gama snorted. “Human traits that are occasionally useful even to unicorns. But Luster is a young world, and has not been deeply explored.”

  Finder, who had come to stand behind Cara, was poking his big head over her shoulder. “I have been to some of those empty places,” he said shyly.

  She glanced at him in surprise.

  “Why do you think Moonheart asked me to come?” he murmured.

  Cara put her hand on his neck, comforted, as always, by his gentle strength.

  “Look,” said M’Gama, calling Cara’s attention back to the map. The place names were written in an ornate script that she could not read, but M’Gama whispered them aloud as she traced the path they must follow with her fingertip.

  “You’ll start here, at my home,” said the Geomancer softly. “Travel west for five days, until you come to the River Silver, which flows down from the north.”

  “Grimwold’s territory is somewhere around there, isn’t it?” asked Moonheart.

  “It is,” replied M’Gama. “At least, the outer edges of it. If I can contact him, I’ll let him know that you are heading in his direction.”

  The thought pleased Cara. Grimwold was the Keeper of the Unicorn Chronicles, and though he was a bit cantankerous, she had grown fond of him on her first visit to his caves — partly because he had known her grandmother from the time she was as young as Cara herself was now.

  “Once you reach the Silver, you must move carefully, for you will be skirting delver territory. Follow the river north, until you come to a forest. You will pass through wooded areas along the way, of course, but you will know this forest when you see it, for it rises abruptly after a long area of flat grassland and stretches like a wall for as far as you can see in either direction. This stage of the journey will take you several days.”

  “Can you be more precise?” asked Thomas.

  “Not really. The river winds and twists and sometimes shifts in its course. If the water is high, you may find yourself making lengthy detours. Even so, it is the only good way through this territory. It will take at least ten days.”

  “It seems like such a long way,” said Cara. “And not anywhere near where I entered luster.”

  “That’s because the world has shifted since you first came here,” said M’Gama. “It will shift again, before too long. Autumn is approaching, and the days are growing shorter. On the day when the light and the dark are in balance, this spot will cease to be of use to you.”

  Cara felt a twist of fear. “How much time do we have?” she asked urgently.

  M’Gama closed her eyes, as if consulting some internal calendar. “The shift will occur as the sun sets on the thirty-first day of your journey.”

  “Does that give us enough time to get there?”

  “It depends on what happens along the way. It also depends on what happens once you cross over to Earth. If the Wanderer is waiting and you can turn around and come right back, that is one thing. But if the shift happens after you have already gone through, using the amulet to return from Earth will not bring you back to the spot from which you left.”

  “Then where will it bring me back to?” asked Cara nervously.

  “I do not know. Therefore, I suggest you try your hardest to return before the shift occurs. Now, let me finish giving you the directions.” Again she drew their attention to the map. “Once you reach the forest you must be extremely cautious. There is an enchantment on the woods that makes it hard to pass through them. If you go the wrong way, you may find yourself wandering in circles without ever finding the way out.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Ever,” she repeated darkly.

  “Then how do we get through them?” asked Cara.

  “There is a true path, which will guide you safely as long as you stick to it. The entrance is marked by a pair of black stones, each twice as tall as a unicorn, that stand about an armspan apart. You will find them a half day’s journey to the east of where the river enters the forest. Take that path all the way through the forest.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Thomas nervously. “Doesn’t that path lead to . . .”

  M’Gama finished the sentence for him. “It will take you to the Northern Waste that is home to the seventh dragon.”

  “Yike!” cried the Squijum. He jumped onto Finder’s shoulder, causing the big unicorn to flinch.

  “Who is the seventh dragon?” asked Cara.

  “Ebillan!” whispered Thomas. The dismay in his voice frightened Cara, who had come to count on the Tinker as being
sure and steady no matter how bad the situation.

  M’Gama turned to Cara. “Seven dragons came from old Earth to Luster. Their names, in the order of their arrival, are Firethroat, Redrage, Fah-Leing, Master Bloodtongue, Graumag, Bronzeclaw, and Ebillan. Of these seven, Ebillan is the smallest but also the most unpredictable, which makes him one of the most dangerous. He is heartsore and angry, and bears little love for humans — dangerous traits in a dragon. Even so, it is to his home that you must travel.”

  “By ’home’, I hope you mean simply the territory that Ebillan controls,” said Thomas.

  M’Gama shook her head. “No, I mean his home. At the back of Ebillan’s cave is a smaller cave. Its walls are made of crystal, and he allows none to enter it.”

  “Then how am I going to get in?” asked Cara.

  “That is not a question I can answer. I can only tell you that if you stand in that cave to use the amulet, it should take you directly to your old home.”

  “Should?” echoed Cara nervously. She would have preferred a nice, definite will.

  “That is what my geomancing told me. Can I make a guarantee? Of course not. Very little is certain in this life. Sometimes you simply have to do, and hope.”

  7

  The Bathing Pool

  Cara felt safe in M’Gama’s house. Even so, she slept fitfully that night. In her dreams she stood in her grandmother’s bedroom and wept, though she could not tell who — or what — it was that she wept for.

  She was roused from her troubled sleep by the morning sun peeking over the edge of second-floor terrace. Her first movements brought a sputter of protest from the Squijum, who was curled at her side with his tail tucked over his eyes.

  When Cara stumbled down the stone steps to the main floor, she found the Geomancer standing at the table in the entry room. The table was no longer covered by bits of earth and stone, but held instead an array of clothing.

  “You should be better outfitted before you continue your journey,” said M’Gama. “Unicorns tend not to think about these things. Also, you should let me help you with your hair.”

  Cara put her hand to her head. Her thick red hair, usually so neatly groomed at home, was not only tangled but becoming matted. “You’re not going to cut it off, are you?” she asked nervously.

  M’Gama laughed. “It might be a good idea. But for now we’ll simply get it in shape for traveling. Flensa will help you first. I’ll join you in a while.”

  As if summoned by the very mention of her name, the dwarf appeared at Cara’s side. “Follow me,” she growled. Turning, she led Cara back to the hall where they had dined the night before. She stopped to pick up one of the glowing bowls and motioned for Cara to do the same. This done, they headed toward the back of the chamber, the area that had remained in darkness the night before. Cara could see now that the cave tapered to a narrow opening that seemed to tunnel straight into the hill. The stalactites hanging from the ceiling and the stalagmites thrusting up from the floor looked like giant teeth, giving the tunnel itself the appearance of a long, dark throat waiting to swallow her.

  “Where are we going?” Cara asked, fighting to keep a tremor out of her voice.

  “You’ll see,” grunted Flensa.

  Though Cara found picking her way among the rocky formations into the dark tunnel somewhat nerve-racking, the traveling was smooth once they entered it. The tunnel sloped downward for a good distance, bringing them at last to a cave lit by several more glowing bowls. The air was cool and moist, making Cara think of the cellar under the little house with the climbing tree back on Earth.

  In the center of the cave was a stony pool. Steam drifted across its still surface, much as it does above a pond on a crisp autumn morning. The sound of slowly dripping water echoed around them, bouncing eerily off the cave walls.

  “You can bathe here,” said Flensa.

  Cara waited for the dwarf to leave, but after a moment it became clear that she had no intention of going. Cara hesitated, then, telling herself not to be silly, undressed. Bracing herself for a shock of coldness, she stepped gingerly into the water. “It’s warm!” she cried in delight.

  Flensa waited until Cara’s voice had finished bouncing off the walls before she replied, “What did you expect?”

  Cara had never dreamed a hot bath could feel so good. She swam across the pool. It was about ten feet wide and so deep her feet could not touch bottom in the middle. She clung to the far side for a moment, then swam back to the ledge where she had first stepped into the pool. The echos of her splashing were a little eerie, and yet at the same time somehow comforting.

  “This is wonderful,” she sighed, leaning against a place where the stone was polished to a smooth sheen. “I wish — what are you doing?”

  “These herbs are good for your skin,” said Flensa as she dumped a double handful of dried leaves into the pool. “Stir them around.”

  Cara did as she was instructed. At first, the addition to the water made her skin tingle in an unpleasant way. But after a minute or two, the sensation vanished and a spicy odor filled the warm, moist air.

  After a while M’Gama came to join them. She helped Cara wash her hair, then massaged a dark blue concoction into it. The earthy smell of the stuff was intense, yet somehow soothing. M’Gama sang as she worked. When the song was finished, she said, “Now rinse it out.”

  Cara had to duck her head under the warm water of the pool several times before all the stuff was gone. Once it was, M’Gama patted the stone next to her and said, “Now come sit with me.”

  Cara took the towel Flensa handed her, wondering as she did where it had come from. It was coarse, obviously handwoven, but surprisingly soft. After drying herself, she wrapped the towel around her and went to sit beside M’Gama.

  The Geomancer showed her a comb made from dark wood, its ornate handle carved like a dragon. “A friend made this for me,” she said as she began to untangle Cara’s hair.

  It took nearly two hours, some strange smelling lotions, and (Cara suspected) a bit of magic to get all the knots out. After the first ten minutes Cara, began to grow restless. “We have to hurry!” she said at last. “I have to get moving.”

  “Yes, you do,” replied M’Gama serenely. “But the journey ahead of you calls for endurance as much as speed, and you will do better — last longer — if you set off rested and well prepared. Haste at the start often costs much more time at the end. Turn your head to the right, please.”

  Cara took a breath and tried to settle herself. Despite her eagerness to begin the journey, she managed to relax a bit, and to listen.

  As M’Gama manipulated the comb, she spoke of her work as Geomancer and how she had come to learn the rhythms of the world and the shape of the stones. She told of the lines of power that run beneath the surface of all worlds, and the secrets that can be read in a pebble, a leaf, a twig, or a clod of soil. As Cara listened she felt the world opening up to her, expanding, as if she could see it in a new way. Sometimes rather than speaking aloud, M’Gama would whisper. Three times she sang — secret songs, which could only be uttered inside the world, in a cave, as they were now.

  When she was done with the combing, she plaited Cara’s hair into two thick braids. “This will help keep it from tangling again. Now come. The others are waiting.”

  Cara put on her clothes, which felt grubby against her clean skin, and followed Flensa and M’Gama out of the cave.

  * * *

  “Oh, well done!” said Thomas, who was lounging near the front door. “Your hair looks very good that way.”

  “Thank you,” said Cara, blushing a little. Then, quickly, she added, “M’Gama did it.”

  “Come, child,” said M’Gama, who was standing at the table once more. “We are not finished yet. Let us see if any of these will fit you.”

  “Where did this all come from?” asked Cara as she examined the variety of clothing spread out on the table.

  The Geomancer tu
rned her palms upward. “People sometimes come to me for information. When they do, they offer me something in return, usually something they have made. I take whatever they offer. You never know when something will come in handy.”

  “How many humans are there in Luster, anyway?” asked Cara, picking up a pair of leather trousers. She held them to her waist, then sighed and put them back since they were at least a foot too long for her.

  M’Gama paused. “Not very many. I suspect if you gathered us all together you might have enough to make a medium-sized town. Of course, I speak only of this continent. What is over the sea, I cannot say. Here, try this on.”

  By the time they were done, Cara was wearing a loose linen shirt; a pair of close-fitting brown trousers that were far easier to move in than her jeans had been; and a pair of high boots made of supple, earth-colored leather. A dark green tunic, made from a fabric she did not recognize and covered with ornate embroidery, completed the outfit. Better yet, M’Gama gave her a pack in which she was able to carry two additional sets of clothing.

  “Best take this cloak, too,” said the Geomancer, rolling another piece of fabric and tucking it into the pack. “You’ll be traveling north, and summer is coming to its end. Evenings may be cool.”

  As a finishing touch, she strapped a short sword to Cara’s side. “May you never have to use it,” whispered the Geomancer. “But may it perform its job well if you do.”

  Cara drew the sword and stared at it, feeling a strange mixture of excitement and fear. Somehow having an adult give her a such a weapon made the dangers of the path ahead seem even more real.

  “I wish I could have some lessons,” she muttered.

  “With luck, you won’t need it for anything more than slicing a path through the underbrush,” said M’Gama. “Now, let us rejoin the others.”