by Andre Norton
“Wait.”
I didn’t let him see my smile. I knew objects like these buttons were not likely to come his way ever again. I hated to part with anything in the puzzle box, but I needed weapons, and his were well made and the edges gleamed with a sharpness that would be useful.
“For the second knife, the sheath, and the belt. I’ll take those baubles.”
Minutes later I was at the edge of the lake, several yards from a half dozen fishermen who took turns casting nets, letting them sink, then after an interval retrieving them. Another man searched along the shore and in the tall grass beyond it for turtles. Tall and broad-shouldered, he had an unruly shock of hair that flared away from his head when he turned to look at me.
I moved a little farther away, took off my boots, and waded into the lake. The dark water did not seem as intense or quite as beautiful as I remembered from my childhood, but then I think the world had captivated me more easily then. The water felt warmer than I expected for this time of the spring, and the sand at the bottom felt good against my soles. My face reflected ghostlike back at me, and I tried to smooth out the ripples with my hands.
I pictured Lord Purvis as I had seen him in Nanoo Gafna’s vision. Lips pulled up in a sneer, ordering his men to break Lady Ewaren’s fingers, then ordering her death. The image came quickly to me, as it had been difficult to keep him out of my head. I pictured his armor, his swagger, the utter vileness of him.
The hate boiled up inside me, my heart stoking my anger.
I felt warmth against my palms and realized I’d squeezed my fingers so tight into fists that my fingernails had sliced into my skin. Drops of blood fell onto the water, onto an image of the man I’d sworn to kill. Stubble dotted his chin, heavy enough to look like the purposeful start of a beard. All of his face filled my vision, and I had to concentrate to pull the image back so I could learn his location. Seeing him in this scry would do me nothing if I could not also see where he was.
He stood between the trunks of two red maples, a breeze rustling the branches above him, the leaves casting dancing shadows across the top of his helmet. He didn’t move, and I had to stare closely to make sure he breathed.
“More,” I urged the magic. “I need to see more.” I pulled back further and saw a horse, the one he had ridden with the storm into the Village Nar. It posed, impressive and gorgeous, at least sixteen hands high, with a well-groomed mane and tail. It was the most impressive-looking horse I’d ever seen. The horse’s nostrils quivered, and its ears were forward, listening and smelling to discern the information carried on the wind.
Simple animals learned more from the world than educated men could because they, like the Nanoo, me, and blessed others, knew the secret.
The horse raised its head, and then I saw Lord Purvis turn.
I swore that hateful man looked straight at me, the corner of his lip raising in what had become a familiar expression.
“That is the danger with a scry, young woman. Sometimes they can watch you back.”
I whirled and saw the tall man who’d been hunting turtles.
“Be careful using that magic.”
“You are a Nanoo?” I mouthed. A heartbeat later I answered the question by looking more closely. My eyes registered the tree-bark lines on his face and his dark complexion—not so many lines, though, as the Nanoo in Mardel’s Fen, nor so rich a color of skin. Reed thin, the broad shoulders made him look only gaunter. Unhealthy, I’d thought at first, catching sight of bony wrists and pronounced cheekbones. But his eyes were bright and lively and did not hint at any illness.
He sat cross-legged on the shore and I stepped away from the fading image on the lake and joined him. He nested a net bag between his knees. It was half filled with hurril bulbs, an early spring fruit that grew close to the ground. He’d been collecting the bulbs, not searching for turtles as I’d thought.
He offered me one, and I quickly accepted. I hadn’t eaten since right before Nanoo Shellaya and I had reached Elspeth’s Knot. The pulpy fruit tasted slightly bitter, but it slid down my throat easily. He handed me another.
“Thank you…”
“Tillard,” he replied.
“I am Wisteria.” I gave him no surname, neither did I mention Nar. Titles had become unimportant to me. Too, he’d given me only Tillard.
“Yes, I am Nanoo.”
My face betrayed my puzzlement, and I saw the smile in his eyes.
“Most Nanoo live in Mardel’s Fen, but obviously not all of us.” He reached into his net bag and pulled out two more bulbs, passing one to me. He polished his against his tunic before taking a bite. He chewed slowly, relishing the taste, then continued. “I lived in Mardel’s Fen my first two decades, born to a couple who already had three children.”
From my few visits to the fen, and from tales Gafna had told me, I knew most of the Nanoo were women who lived alone, and the couples in the fen rarely had more than two children. The Nanoo purposely kept their numbers down so the size of the community remained relatively constant.
“You left of your own accord, Tillard?”
He nodded and took another bite. I finished my third piece of fruit and licked my lips to get the last bit of juice. Though mildly astringent, the fruit quenched my thirst and went a long way toward ending my hunger.
“I was loved, of course, in the fen. The Nanoo cherish and cling to each other. But I was not so strong in the wyse as my older brothers and sister … and that was my own fault, my mind always wandered.” He paused and leaned back on his hands, head turned up to the morning sun. “As did I wander from the fen. Itchy feet, I guess.”
I wondered if his skin was paler than other Nanoo’s and his lines less pronounced because he’d been away from the village for … how many years? I placed him between thirty and forty, but he immediately ended my speculation.
“After leaving the fen I traveled for a little more than a year before settling in this village. I like the lake and the people, and they like me well enough, I think, though a stubborn few are a suspicious lot. I’ve been here three years now. Surprised myself that I haven’t moved on. Perhaps my feet no longer itch quite so much.”
That would make him …
“Twenty-four winters I have seen, Wisteria. Not yet twenty-five, but that birthday will come soon.”
Like other Nanoo, he had a way of prying into my thoughts. And like other Nanoo, age was very difficult to guess.
“I’m not prying,” he said. “Well, not on purpose. Your mind is so strong you practically shout the questions to me. I could teach you to hide your thoughts, give you more control, but there are other matters to spend your efforts on at the moment.”
“Such as scry magic.” I licked my fingers and turned to face the lake. “Dangerous magic, perhaps. But necessary … at the moment.” Then I told him of Nar and Nanoo Gafna, her capture and rescue and the vision she’d showed me of Lord Purvis. I hadn’t intended to reveal so much, but something about him, his imploring eyes and gentle expression, coaxed it out of me. I found him so easy to confide in; perhaps that was his wyse talent, to pull thoughts from people.
“A bloodoath … I’ve not heard of such before. And the Moonsons, I know so very little about them. This Lord Purvis, though, I saw him days past, when he came to the village—”
“Recruiting young men for his army,” I finished.
He nodded.
We heard a whoop and halfway around the lake watched one of the men tug in his nets and hold up a large catfish with a big white belly. His fellows congratulated him and helped him string the fish and float it so it would not die before he was ready to call his morning’s efforts done and clean it. A pair of gulls hovered over the men. We weren’t far from the sea, and they’d come inland in search of food.
“Seven he talked away from this village, much to their parents’ and the elders’ dismay. Little more than boys, really; Hallory was the youngest, at thirteen, and their presence will be missed. Promised them adventure and esteem and p
lied them with tales of serving the Empress.” He shook his head. “Easy to see through his words, but not if you’re young and dreaming.”
“Several days ago?”
“Yes, more than a few days past. There were many men already with him, their horses amazing animals, coats so shiny and manes and tails braided. Put our two horses to shame, they did. All of the men wore some fashion of armor, matching cloaks and shields, looking like they were readying for battle. The ornamentation attracted our young men. And he promised them armor, swords, and horses, too, when they went back in triumph to the great city.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, by the Green Ones, your Lord Purvis seems intent on some mission. You could see the fire in his eyes. His thoughts did not shout to me. Indeed, I could not tell at all what he seemed to be concentrating on.”
He turned to watch another fisherman haul in his net, nothing in it so large as the catfish. “I did not like the man. And I can tell you truly that I’ve encountered none other in my life who I could admit to not liking.”
He still watched the fishermen, and I watched him. He looked older than his years, but then I didn’t know that much about the Nanoo. I had no real idea of Gafna’s age. Their skin, which looked like tree bark, disguised that.
“He searches for me, I believe.” More words poured from my lips, about how Lord Purvis came to the Village Nar looking for me, how my father died and the Emperor … both of them slain. “Lord Purvis, the Empress, they want magic to die.”
“No. Not precisely.” He returned his attention to me. “Not all magic, in any event. Those around Lord Purvis shouted to me. They were not interested in magic or the wyse, though some had it pulsing in their bodies. Those men do not know the secret, Wisteria.” When Tillard said my name, it sounded musical. His voice was even and strong, and I found myself enjoying listening to him. “But it is hardly a secret in Derilynn.” He waved his hand to indicate the lake and the village.
I closed my eyes and opened my mouth, searching for the wyse in this place and finding it as thick as tree syrup. Perhaps the wyse was stronger in water than on the land. I felt heady, as if I’d finished a bottle of sweet wine by myself. I drank the magic in and felt it blend with my own inner magic. I don’t know how many minutes I did this, as time ceased to exist for me. But when I finally opened my eyes and shook my head to clear my senses, I saw him grinning at me.
“The villagers—” I began.
“Some of them are as strong in the wyse as the Nanoo in Mardel’s Fen. But they’re quiet about it. And some of them know nothing of magic and would think those of us who embrace it to be—”
“Witches.”
“And worse.”
“No wonder you like it here, Tillard.”
We both grew quiet for a time, listening to the pair of gulls and the fishermen, watching the one with the great catfish pull it and the rest of his morning’s haul to the village’s cleaning house.
“I think I would like to stay, Tillard, for a while. But I’ve the matter of my bloodoath. I put it off too long, taking care of Alysen and seeing to Nanoo Gafna.”
“I remember her,” he said. “And Shellaya, of course. I remember all of them. Perhaps one day I will go back for a visit and let them see how pale and skinny one of their brothers has become.” A pause. “They would welcome me, of course, perhaps try to get me to come home … my parents and brothers and sister especially. But it would never be the same as before. I consider that home lost to me.”
I had no reply to that, wondering if he pulled my thoughts of Nar and having no home myself from my mind. “I need the scry magic to find Lord Purvis.”
“He saw you in return, you know. I watched your water vision. He looked right at you.”
I shrugged.
“He has the wyse about him, Wisteria.” Again my musical name. “Else he’d not return your stare.”
“And so he knows where I am?”
“Maybe. Likely, if he is strong enough.”
“Then I must find him now.” I stood and brushed the dirt from the back of my leggings. I slowly waded back into the water. “I must go to him. I can’t allow Derilynn to suffer as Nar did. I must go to him, not him come to me.”
Tillard moved so quietly that I didn’t know he’d joined me in the lake until he rested a long-fingered hand on my shoulder. “What makes you think he searches for you, Wisteria? What makes you such a threat to a man as powerful as a warlord?”
Once more I shrugged. Then even as I pictured Lord Purvis’s sneering visage and called it up on the water, I told Tillard of what Alysen had said. “If I’d been in the Village Nar, he might have contented himself with slaying only me.”
“What makes you think he was looking for you?” Again the question.
“I told you, Tillard. The girl Alysen…” I sucked in a breath. Lord Purvis returned my stare from the image. I forced the vision to pull back from him, seeing the twin maples on either side of him, his magnificent horse, more horses in the woods behind him, more men. The man closest to him looked vaguely familiar, and it took a few moments to picture him without the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and the streaks of gray in his hair.
Celerad t’Lurres, one of the nine Moonsons who’d visited Bastien years ago in Nar. He was wearing the Moonson colors, as were a half dozen others partially obscured by the trees.
It was an odd mix of trees: maples and cypress, stringybarks and stick-thin pines. There were ferns with broad, thick leaves that demanded a warmer climate than their low-growing evergreen neighbors, which thrived in the cold.
“Mardel’s Fen,” I said. “The demon-of-a-man is in the fen. If he can see me, as you say, he’d know not to look for me in the fen.”
“So he was not looking for you after all, Wisteria,” Tillard said.
“No.” Suddenly my throat went tight and my knees gave out. I felt the Nanoo catch me as I fell. “Tillard, Lord Purvis looks for Alysen t’Geer.”
27
I regained my composure and rushed from the lake, grabbing up my boots and satchel as I went. Rocks and chunks of hard-packed earth dug into the soles of my feet, and I stopped to put on my boots only because I feared I might step on something sharp and in reflex twist my ankle. I’d be of little use to Alysen if I broke my ankle again.
Tillard reached me as I struggled into my boots. I leaned against him to make the task easier.
“Fool I am.” I cursed myself, adding more foul words that made the Nanoo blush, all strung together and all aimed at me. “I didn’t look beyond, didn’t think. Fool I am.”
Oh, I’d listened to what Alysen t’Geer had told me when I came upon her that day in the Village Nar and discovered my slaughtered friends. She said Lord Purvis had come looking for me.
And when I’d seen the attack—the storm come to the Village Nar—through Nanoo Gafna’s vision, I thought I’d heard the same tale. Lord Purvis claimed that he looked for a woman … or had he said girl?… strong in the wyse. One with a most magical father.
I shut my eyes and sucked in a deep breath. His words—“a most magical father.” They implied the father still lived, and I knew my father was dead. Not just because of Alysen’s words did I know it, but by an emptiness I felt, a severed connection, the same sensation I’d felt shortly after my mother’s death. And I should have been aware of my father’s passing before Alysen told me. But I’d not thought of my father in some time, and my mind had been elsewhere, worried about finding game to feed the village.
A most magical father.
One of the Green Ones.
There could be no more magical father than one of our gods. Lord Purvis had made no mention that the father was dead.
He’d said “a most magical father.”
“Your thoughts still shout to me, Wisteria.” Tillard ran at my side, the net bag of bulbs over his shoulder and thumping against his back. “But perception is my gift.”
“Then you know about Alysen.”
“But
not why your demon-man would hunt her.”
Indeed, how could one impetuous girl present a threat to the man in charge of the Empress’s army? I reached the pen where I’d left the vanner mare. Her head was thrust deep into a bucket of oats.
“Have you a saddle I may trade for?” I called to the man in the pen. He looked up from feeding the sheep and shook his head.
“Only one saddle, and it’s for—”
“My horse,” Tillard said. “Give it to her, Aren, and bring Sky, please.”
I looked to the Nanoo.
“Winter Sky,” he said. “It’s what I named him when he was gifted to me a little more than three years past. In my travels I helped a merchant and his family, and the horse was payment. Not so sleek as yours, and quite some years older, I’d judge by his teeth. But he will carry me well enough to go with you.”
I shook my head vehemently. I considered the man saddling the vanner, which protested slightly. A draft, the mare was used to pulling carts and wagons, not a saddle. I hoisted myself up and hooked my satchel to the front of the saddle, and I turned her north with a flick of the reins, leaned forward, stretching toward her ear.
“Hurry, girl. Like the wind is—”
“Wait!” Tillard put a bit and bridle on a dark gray horse with pale blue eyes the watery color of a winter sky. “I said I’m going with you.”
I kneed the vanner and slapped the side of her neck. The horse took off at a gallop.
“Wait! Please wait, Wisteria!”
I didn’t slow, even though I heard him behind me trying to catch up. I didn’t answer him, either, when he called that he wanted to help me, and that this was his concern, too.
“I am Nanoo!” he shouted. “The people in the fen are mine!”
And the Nanoo were in jeopardy because Alysen was under their protection and because Lord Purvis sought her. And Alysen was in the fen because I had taken her there. Practically forced her on the Nanoo.
Why? Why in the name of the Green Ones did Lord Purvis seek her?
I mulled over the possibilities as I demanded the vanner gallop now.
“Wisteria, slow down!”