by Andre Norton
Marfey nodded at each point. "All well and good, but it would be better to have a likeness," she said bluntly.
Now Ysa's smile widened. "That is how I was able to describe her to you so closely. Go to the table yonder and open its drawer. You will find a miniature of the lady, limned only this two-month gone."
Marfey obeyed quickly and pulled out a small, framed portrait. She studied it closely. "Well enough," she said at last. "Your artist was cunning and skillful."
"And you are close enough to pass for her, to those who have only the image to rely upon. You will leave the city within the hour," the Queen continued. "You know of the summer lodge at Bray. The court has not used it during late seasons as His Majesty has had other pursuits on his mind. Go there. You will find a woman, Tethia, in residence. She is of my own kin. Say to her, 'The day comes, let all hearts be glad.' You recognize it as a line from a song popular a season past. In response, she will give you the line that follows. She will also supply all that you need. The lodge is near the highway Marcala would follow coming from Valvager. You will be provided with a maid, a wardrobe, and a proper escort. It will be made known to the court that you are soon to arrive. Once back within these walls, the game will be largely yours. Harous is no womanizer, but he is unwed, and he well knows his duty to the lordship and that he must follow it soon. I leave it to you, child. What is to be learned is what connection he has with the Bog. This is of the highest importance."
"Yes, Your Majesty." The young woman rose and made a deep court curtsy hardly in keeping with her present appearance. Without saying good-bye, she slipped through the slit in the hangings and was gone.
Ysa likewise arose and went to draw the door bolt. Time, time, she thought.
Often her friend, it could well be her enemy. Boroth lingered, to be sure, but only because he drew upon the Ring power she directed to him. And she knew her own growing exhaustion every time that Power was drawn upon. She had eyes and ears on Florian and knew well that he was not as apt for feminine company these days as he had been. Rather, while there were still convivial gatherings in his chambers, his guests were of a different type—gamblers in more ways than one—and the drink flowed ever more freely. Most of Florian's cronies were younger sons of various lords, and several of the Houses they represented were no friends of hers. She kept what attention was possible on their comings and goings and had hinted to Royance that there might be trouble brewing.
Like her, Royance wanted no power struggle when the King died, and he well knew
Florian's nature. Since he had seen the Rings refuse the Prince's touch, Ysa knew that he would most gladly support any project that would continue peace, and upon that fact she was determined to depend.
The sun was strong, its light reaching out over the rough walls of the cliffs that would be the Sea-Rover scouts' road on this day. At present, nobody stirred among the jagged jawline of stone. Besides Obern, there were three of them—Dordan, Kather, and Kasai—to the fore of those who had come from the hold.
All were clad in mail. Obern did not glance at his companions. His attention was ahead of them, to that perilous trail to the land-bridge he had argued was worth the trying.
At least on their departure, Snolli had not uttered any advice, and that strengthened his son. That his father was silent made it clear that he trusted
Obern to be cautious and to show the same inner steel that would be his were they advancing on some enemy holding.
Snolli had, however, given the old farewell: "Go with wind in the sails and waves favoring."
Obern had half turned and lifted his bared sword in response. Then he had started toward what he had marked by careful observation since this action had been agreed upon as the easiest of possible paths.
It did not take them long to reach the beginning of unknown territory. They needed to descend and then climb again. Soon they reached the swallow-hole where the border river vanished. Beyond that, the waters would emerge again before being vomited out seaward in the waterfall they had seen marking the very edge of the Bog. Light wisps of mist veiled part of the Bog-land but did not rise to cloak the clifftop. Without hesitation, the scouting party crossed the land-bridge. Now they were technically in the Bog, going parallel to the river but not yet beginning to mark the reach of the land beyond.
"No drum," Dordan said in a reminder. Kasai, whose drum was slung by a cord over his shoulder, had halted. Facing the near-obscured Bog, he drew several deep breaths, sniffing the air, as if by so doing, he could gain necessary knowledge.
It was Obern who read the uneasiness in the Spirit Drummer. "Perhaps the mist gives us cover for now. That means we use it before it is swept away."
"Down there—" It was part of a question, and the archer Kather had turned back toward the river, beyond the stone land-bridge.
Obern shook his head. "Better to see what we can—" He halted in mid- speech, for a thread of mist flitted away and he could see the riverbank, and so learned that his party was not alone.
By their dress, he recognized the six men as being from Rendel. As with the group he had seen before, they had more mounts than men; these they had picketed not far from them. And now most were gathered about something spread on the ground—an open chart, Obern suspected. He recognized the one to whom the others deferred; he was using a belt knife to point out portions of the chart. The last time Obern had seen this man, shreds of mist were clearing from his person. Now he was speaking without interruption by his companions. Though Obern strained to hear, they were too far away and the river noise provided a cover for any sound coming from their temporary camp.
Obern made a hand signal and his party faded seaward. Within a stride or two, they could no longer see the men from the Kingdom, nor, Obern was sure, could they now be sighted from below.
"Hunters—of trouble," he said in a low voice, nearly drowned out by the river.
All the information they had gathered from traders and their own scouting had always been firm that the Bog was forbidden to Outlanders. Yet it was plain that those below were consulting some guide, and where would that take them? Where else but to the Bog? He stopped short. He could be mistaken regarding their errand. All the Rendel men were on the unforbidden side of the river. There had been no hint that the Sea-Rovers' own taking of the deserted keep had aroused any interest among their neighbors—if there were such within easy distance. But were the ones they had seen now come to scout in turn?
Kasai had joined him. "Scouts—the keep?" Obern asked. The drummer shook his head.
"Not so, I think, though we must never overlook any possibility."
"That one with the chart—I think he has ridden this way before with the Bog his goal."
"I think that be his goal again. There must be some weightful need to make sure of something within those waters and Bog nets."
Obern nodded. "So be it."
If the man from the Kingdom was going again into the forbidden land, it would be wise to keep an eye on him as long as they could. With caution, they worked a little northward, stopping now and then to watch the party below and to the south. The fog wove curtains that served to conceal the strangers, but not so completely that those above did not observe when the chart was rolled together and they stood facing the river and what lay beyond.
It was time for using any cover that was available. Belly-down, the Sea- Rovers wriggled painfully through the bits and rasps of rocky edges to a spot on the lip of the inner cliff. There they had a good view of the men from Rendel.
The leader of that party had opened a pack and was now groping in a bag. What he drew forth, Obern could barely make out. Then he saw a disk dangling from a cord that the man put over his head so that the pendant lay on his breast. A spear stood nearby, its point lodged in the ground. The man pulled out the spear and with this in hand, walked toward the river, avoiding the land-bridge. The water rose about his legs as he went, and the current was rough enough to push him in the direction of the distant waterfall. He
used the spear as a support and fought his way to the far bank, almost directly below where Obern and his men lay hidden.
When the man won to that and was out of reach of the water, he touched the pendant on his breast. It was as if that act summoned all the tatters of the still-floating mist. His body was swiftly enwrapped, but not past the point where he could not be seen as a core to that cloaking. It was apparently thicker than the Bog-mist and once he was so cloaked, he moved confidently forward.
Those on the clifftop glanced at each other silently. Just as Obern had reported earlier, the man from the Kingdom had gone into the Bog. Were there any sentinels there to sight him? No drums had yet sounded.
No drums, no. But from the sky overhead there came a screech such as pained the ears of any listener. That horrid sound Obern well knew. He looked upward; above them whirled and circled three of the birds they had once before met in battle.
He had time to think, a little confusedly, that such as these must hunt in bands of three.
Kather already had arrow to string. And Dordan had a similar, smaller bow to be used at close quarters. Obern drew his sword without any conscious thought.
Prudently, they scrambled for what cover the outcrops nearby provided. They didn't bother to hide from their quarry now. Let the men from the Kingdom defend themselves without their help.
The birds wheeled in a circle above them and it was plain that the interloping
Sea-Rovers, not the men from Rendel, were the targets. Suddenly one bird broke from the circle and dropped, its great wings, each the size of a standing man, tucked against its sides. Its hideously gaping beak opened to screech its war-cry.
The cry continued in a rising scream. An arrow suddenly struck one of the giant clawed legs but fell away without penetrating. The feathers and skin must provide good armor.
Obern suddenly realized it was not plunging for the archer who had marked it, but toward him. He took a step back and half crouched, his sword ready. He swung the weapon when he thought the bird within range.
The big head was thrust forward, curved bill threatening. Obern's attack connected with one of the legs extended to claw at him. Just as the bird's feathers had protected it, so now did his mail keep his flesh from the tearing hold the creature strove to set upon him.
If only he could have struck steel against the scrawny neck! As it was, he failed to deliver a meaningful blow. The force with which the bird met the plunging attack was more than Obern had expected, and he staggered. With a whirl of feathers and a second screech, the creature swerved to settle on an outcrop of the cliff just above their refuge.
Obern could not recover his balance. It was as if his feet refused to obey his frantic inner orders. The edge of the cliff dropping before him, he tried to throw his weight backward. The rubble underfoot betrayed him. Out he flailed from the perilous footage, out and down. There was only a moment of realization and then—Blackness, a far-off suggestion of fiery pain—
—nothing at all.
Sixteen
Ashen could see where the Outlander, Kazi's mur-er, had fought his way through the brush, leaving footprints in the soft land here and there where water oozed to puddle. He had changed course abruptly and was headed now southward toward the edge of the Bog. But the drams still rolled and the girl well knew that there were guardposts in plenty, any one of which could harbor those to pull him down.
She herself habitually used the valuable trail knowledge Zazar had imparted to her to avoid such posts. For those were carefully guarded secrets, each set by one village alone. Now she must depend on the fact that she had read this trail before her correctly and go in just the opposite direction.
The Bog-folk kept open hunting trails toward the eastern cliffs. She had, in her own secret expeditions, ventured only a little toward them. The border river took an underground way, close to the rock walls, before it at last plunged into the sea, a much larger body of water she had only heard about, never seen. Was there, or was there not, a way she could reach the sea and then return, with the river as a guide?
She could only try, taking every care and remaining ever alert. The drums still sounded, which meant the Bog-folks were alert. However, she believed that the intruder would take the quickest way out and not risk getting lost in an unmarked mire.
Tightening the straps of her backpack and making sure its weight would not trouble her, Ashen then cut from a nearby willow a branch as thick as she could find. With that in hand, she turned eastward. She could see her destination, the shadow across the horizon that marked the cliffs.
The signal drums had started up again, but they kept to a steady beat, one that did not summon the Bog-folk to fight. This tempo was far less vigorous than battle call. They were tracking. There had been no sound of war-pipes, so she could guess that the invader had not been brought down. However, since he had headed south before turning east, she imagined that she would be less apt to run into any tracking party. And also, she had the amulet, Zazar's gift. And she was sure that the unknown killer of Kazi had depended upon some similar ancient secret to mask him from Bog perils. As Ashen went, using her willow branch to test any suspicious-looking footway, she continued to wonder about Zazar.
There had been several times during the years when certain strangers, well muffled against any recognition, had come to Zazar's hearth and spent time in whispered conversation with the Wysen-wyf. Until now, Ashen had dismissed the suspicion that such were Outlanders. However, now it appeared that Zazar's powers were so great that she could promise them safe passage.
Ashen pondered over what network the Wysen-wyf had maintained through such secret visitations. Outlanders? If Joal had come to suspect Zazar treated with such, there was no wonder he had turned on her, forcing from Kazi what information he could.
The drums stopped. The sudden silence broke Ashen's speculations. Either the invader had been captured, which she did not believe, or he had by some unusual means escaped, a chance she found hard to accept.
The probing she made of the damp moss underfoot struck now, only a short way down, a firm surface that might be rock. Perhaps it was a pavement, similar to that with which she was already familiar. Since it seemed to stretch ahead in the direction she would go, Ashen kept to it. Twilight was beginning to close in, and she hoped to find some shelter before the full night-dark was at hand.
Two pillars, a space between them, loomed out of the tangled brush ahead, and it was toward this that the hidden path led. There was evidence suggesting that a stone had once lain atop the pillars at the crowns. More remains of the long-ago ones, Ashen thought. Beyond the pillars there was a fringe of reeds and another of those turgid, slime-spotted pools in which anything might lurk. In this pool, barely breaking the surface of the water, there was a series of stones ringed with green slime. She knew about these, and had used them elsewhere before.
Footage of a sort, yes. But she feared the slick surfaces could betray anyone treading such stones. The pool was not far across, but it was long. A narrow tongue that Ashen could make out in the fading light as soggy footing waited at the other end of those stones.
She must make up her mind and move soon, for there was no hiding place to be sighted. To go around the pool might be a lengthy journey. The last full light of day could linger long enough for her to try the stones, and she reversed her staff to use the other end, its twigs branched close together. Then she thudded this bushy end on the first of the stones, testing its support. It seemed firmly rooted.
She stood thinking, surveying what lay ahead. Reluctantly, she produced her amulet. The girl rubbed her forefinger across the amulet and repeated the singsong words to activate it. Mist arose on either side but did not blind her to the line of stepping-stones. She gained the first stone and steadied herself quickly as a patch of slims threatened her footing.
Slow means sure, she warned herself, taking every precaution to test the stability of each stone as she advanced. There were winged sparks flying about now—the nigh
t-hunters of the air. But such were not to be feared; it was well known that the only peril these threatened was to mistake them for watch-lights marking a trail.
Ashen was breathing hard. Drops of moisture gathered under her arms and along the edge of her hair as she finally reached the far side of the pool.
She stumbled onward, putting a stride or two of distance between herself and the water before she turned to glance back, remembering only too well her encounter with Gulper, who had arisen from just such a pool.
The lights on wings swooped low over the water, giving a measure more of sight.