by Andre Norton
“I want not Ifeng,” I said steadily. Once I might have taken over her mind, her will, made her believe what I said was so. Now I strove to impress her with the truth, but I feared with small success.
At least she sat silent, as if she were thinking upon my answer. And I hastened to use any small advantage I might have gained.
“I am a dealer in spells, as you have said,” I told her. “I do not depend upon the good will of any man, be he chief or warrior only. It is within me—me—do you understand that, girl?” I brought my hands to my breasts, took upon me with what I hoped was good effect a semblance of the arrogance the Wise Women wore as easily as their robes and jewels.
“You lay with Ifeng,” she said sullenly, but her eyes dropped, seemed to study the open box and tumbled necklace which lay between us.
“For the good of the tribe. Is it not the custom?” I might—just might—have disarmed her completely with the true version of the night, yet I decided against it. To keep one’s secrets well is the first lesson of any seeker after knowledge.
“He—he will come again! He is a man who had tasted a feast and goes hungry until he eats so again!” she cried out.
“No, he will not come again,” I told her, and hoped I spoke the truth. “For this is true of those of us who walk the path of Power: we cannot lie with a man and use still our learning. Once—to make sure our strength passes to the chief in part as it should—but not again.”
She met my eyes and this time her anger was dulled, but her stubbornness did not yield. “What cares a hungry man for words? They but sound in his ears and do not fill him. You have one mind, yes, but I tell you Ifeng is of another. He is as one who dreams—”
I tensed. Had she hit upon the truth of this without my telling? If so, what harm could come in her resentment?
“Tell me,”—she leaned still closer, until her breath mingled with mine—“what sorcery do you Wise Ones use to ensnare a man who has always thought clearly and was not bemused by such things?”
“None of my making.” But was it so? I had dealt quickly, and perhaps not with clear thought when I had laid Ifeng under my spell. If that was what mattered I had the answer now. My hands pressed on that part of the cape I had pulled about me, and through the fabric I felt the prick of the thorn I had concealed there. “Be assured, Ayllia, that if he was bespelled by chance, then shall I break it, and speedily. I want this no more than you do!”
“I shall believe you when Ifeng goes with clear eyes and comes to my bed place as eagerly as he did two nights agone,” she told me bleakly. But perhaps she did believe in me a little. Now she got to her feet. “Show me, Wise Woman, show me that you are not unfriend to me—perhaps to all of us!”
She had turned on her heel and went from me. When I was sure she was gone, I dropped the tent flap and made it fast to the inner stake set as a kind of lock to insure privacy. With the flap down, no one by custom would enter.
I had no servants such as had waited upon Utta, nor any novice learning my mysteries. Yet I moved with caution, still fearing that I might be in some way overlooked.
One of the braziers still held a coal not yet completely dead and I blew on that, fed it some bits of shaved wood, then some of the dried herbs. As the fragrant smoke puffed out I dropped my thorn into the heart of that handful of fire. A pity, since I would have to make another if the need arose. But Ayllia was right; if Ifeng held me so firmly in mind I wanted the dream tie broken quickly.
It worked, for the chief did not approach me, nor was I troubled with any visitors for a space. It seemed that another move was in their minds. Though I had believed them well settled, perhaps for the rest of the winter, amid the warmth of the hot streams. This was not to last. It was a matter of game, which had become more and more sparse in the general vicinity. In addition I think some restlessness was a part of the spirit of these people, that they were not long happy nor content in any one place even though that promised an easier life.
Left to myself, save that they brought food and firewood to my door each morning, I spent hours in striving to recall with the aid of Utta’s things more which could help me. Sooner or later, probably sooner, Ifeng and his men were going to demand a casting of foreknowledge of me. I could pretend such, but that was a piece of deceit which I dared not enter upon. It was a betrayal of the Power to claim what I had not. And in the present I wanted no more misuse to cancel the small gains I had made.
For all my desperate trying foreknowledge continued to elude me. Mind search efforts came to nothing at all. Perhaps had there been another learned in the Power to aid me, I might have made contact. But at last I came across another of Utta’s tools, well wrapped and at the very bottom of her second chest as if it were something long forgotten or overlooked. I sat with it in my hands studying it.
This was a thing such as the novices in the Place of Silence use. It was a child’s toy in comparison with more complex and better ordered aids, but I was certainly a child again in such matters and it would be better than nothing . . . I must be humble and use what I could.
It was a board of wood, runes carved on it in three rows. Traces of red paint, hardly to be detected now, were in the deep cracks of the first row, gold in small tarnished lines in the second, while the third was deep shadowed and must once have been painted a dire black.
Providing I could make this work, even a little, I would have an answer for Ifeng’s asking and yet not practice deceit. I could no more than try it now. What of my own question, to which I so yearned to have an answer? What better beginning than that?
Kyllan, Kemoc! I closed my eyes, pictured those two nearest to my heart, my other selves, and under my breath I began a chant of words so old they had no meaning, were only sound to summon the certain energies.
Laying the board on my knee, steadying it with my right hand, I touched its graven surface with the fingers of my left and began sweeping them from top to bottom, first the red row, then the gold, and then, though I had to force them to that task, the black. Once, twice, I made that sweep, then a third time—
So did my answer come. For suddenly my fingers were as fast to the uneven surface as if they had sunk into it, had become one with the wood. I opened my eyes to read the message.
Gold! If I could believe it, gold—life, and not only life but well-being for those I had so tried to reach. Straight-away, when I allowed myself to believe that, my touch on the board loosed and I could withdraw my fingers.
A burden I had not measured as I carried it was lifted from me. And I did not in the least disbelieve that I had read aright.
So . . . now for my own future. Escape—how, when?
This was more complex. I could not draw a sharp picture in my mind as I had of my brothers’ faces. I could only try to build a strong desire of being elsewhere and wait for an answer.
Again my fingers adhered, but this time close to the foot of the red column. So escape was possible but it would come through peril and not in the immediate future.
There was a scratching at the flap of my tent.
“Seeress, we seek.” Ifeng’s voice. Had my countermagic failed? But surely as a husband he would not wait outside with such a call.
“They who seek may enter.” I used Utta’s formula, slipped the flap cord from its peg.
He was not alone; the three warriors who were the senior members of the tribe and acted as an informal advisory council were at his back. At my gesture of welcome they knelt and then settled back on their heels. Ifeng acting as spokesman.
“We must go hence; there is need for meat,” he began.
“This is so,” I agreed. And again I kept Utta’s formula. “Whither would the people go?”
“That we ask of you, Seeress. In us it is to go east again, down river to the sea where was our home before the slayers came over water. But will that bring evil upon us?”
Here it was, a demand of foreseeking. All I had was my tool of board and my finger. But I would do what I could and hope f
or a good ending.
I brought out the board and saw that they looked at it in a puzzled way as if it were something new to them.
“Do you not look into the ball of light?” Ifeng asked. “Such was the way of Utta—”
“Do you,” I countered, “carry the same spear, wear the same sword as Toan, who sits at your right hand? I am not Utta, I use not the same weapons she did.”
Perhaps that seemed logical to him, for he only gestured and did not question me again. I closed my eyes and considered the matter of journeying as clearly as I could arrange my thoughts. Again it was a question that was hard to form as a mind picture. At last I believed my best results were to fix upon myself, on such a journey. And in that choice lay my mistake.
I ran my fingers and they were caught and held swiftly. I opened to see them but halfway down the first column.
“Such a journey lies before us,” I told him. “In it is some danger but not the greatest. The warning is not strong.”
He nodded with satisfaction. “So be it. All life holds dangers of one kind or another. But we are not men to walk without eyes to see, ears to hear, and we have scouts who know better than most to use both. East it is then, Seeress, and we shall travel with the sun two days from now.”
VII
I had no wish to travel eastward, farther and yet farther away from that portion of Escore which meant the most to me. Even should I now manage to break the rune bonds and be able to escape, leagues of unknown country would lie between me and the Valley, a country full of traps—many sly and clever traps. But Utta’s magic left me no choice and when the Vupsalls marched so did I. My only resource was to memorize our path. That I might break the rune spell and be free I did not doubt; it was only when I did not know.
We—or I—had forgotten the bite which winter held while we camped in the place of hot springs. Going out from there was stepping from early summer into midwinter.
Utta’s sled and dogs had gone with her into the burial pit, but Ifeng, according to custom, furnished me with a new sled and two well-trained hounds, and sent me Ausu’s maid to help in packing. As yet I had no servant from the tribe, nor had I asked for one, since I wanted no spying eyes when I strove to remaster my former skills. However I could see now that Visma and Atorthi between them had saved much labor during our travels. And since work with tents was new to me, I would have to ask for such an addition to my tenthold.
There were castes among the tribe, small as it was, and they had been set long ago. Some tentholds were always free from demands from Ifeng or the other leaders; others obeyed naturally. And I learned that the latter, as Visma, had been war captives, or the descendants of such.
I watched those particular families with new attentions as we moved out, striving to see one of the younger women among them whom I might bring into my own tent. And my choice was undecided between two. One was a widow who lived with her son and his tenthold. She had a dull, time-and circumstance-beaten face, and moved among the family almost as did the Kolder slaves of my mother’s long ago tales. I did not think that curiosity was still alive in her or that she would be a spy menace, but perhaps would learn loyalty to me if taken from the tent where she was a cowed drudge.
The other was a young girl who seemed biddable enough. She had a clubbed foot which did not appear to interfere with her work, but put her outside the hope of marriage unless she went as a second or third wife, more servant than mate. But perhaps she was too alert of mind to serve my purpose.
I had already learned to guide the dogs with the called commands to which they were trained from puppyhood. And, once all was laden on the sled, I took my place in line, just behind the sleds of Ifeng’s household.
The men ranged out, flanking us through this stream country, busy at keeping the heavily loaded sleds going, lending their own strength, pushing and pulling. But we were not long in that place of sand, stones and warmth, moving upslope into the snow and ice of the outer world.
When our runners struck the easier going of the snow, our escort fanned out and away on either side of the main body of travelers, setting a protective screen between us and attack.
Once more we moved through a deserted country in which I saw no signs of old occupancy such as one marked easily in the western part of Escore. I wondered anew at this. For the country, even hidden under the burden of winter storms, gave the appearance of being one able to support garths and farms, to nourish a goodly population. Yet there were no marks of ancient fields, no ruins to say that the Old Ones had ever had their manors and lands here.
It was on the second day of travel that we came to the river. An icy crust lay along each bank, extending out over the stream save for a wide dark band marking the center. There I saw the first signs that this had not been a totally forsaken wilderness. A bridge spanned that way, its pillared supports still standing except at midpoint of the stream.
Guarding either end of that broken span was a set of twin towers, looped for defense, large enough perhaps to provide garrison housing. One was intact; the other three had suffered and were crumbling, their upper stories roofless and only partially walled now.
But midpoint between these two guarding our side of the river was a stone arch which was so deeply carved that its pattern could still be read. And the symbol it bore was one I had seen before—on Utta’s rune rolls—a sword and rod crossed.
On the other side of the bridge a smoothness in the sweep of snow suggested that a pavement or roadway extended on. But it was certainly not the choice of the tribe to make use of its convenience. Though I did not detect any taint of the Shadow about the ruins, we made a wide arc out and away, avoiding any close contact with those crumbling walls.
Perhaps the Vupsalls had long ago learned that such could be traps for the unwary and avoided all remnants of the past on principle. But I kept my eyes on the bridge and that suggestion of road, and wondered where it led, or had once led, and the meaning of those symbols above the gate. To my seeress’ knowledge they had no rune significance, but must once have been a heraldic device for some nation or family.
The use of such identifying markings had long since vanished from Estcarp. But some of the Old Race who had managed to escape the Kolder-inspired massacres in Karsten and had fled for refuge over the border still used them.
We did not cross the river and on this side appeared no vestige of roadway. We paralleled the stream, once more heading due east, whereas we had angled northward out of the warm valley. I thought that this river must feed into the eastern sea my new companions sought.
I finally made my choice of tent aid and asked Ifeng at our second night’s halt if I might have the aid of the widow Bahayi, which request he speedily granted. I believe the first wife of Bahayi’s son was none too pleased, for Bahayi, in spite of her dull-witted appearance, was a worker of excellence. When she took charge of my tent all went with some of the old ease that had surrounded us when Utta’s women had organized our travels. Nor did she show in the least any interest in my magical researches, rolling herself in her coverings to snore away the night. And I learned to ignore her as I sought a key to my prison.
With a growing intensity of need I made that search.
There was almost a foreshadowing of danger to come. Each time that warning hung over me I would consult the answer board and always that reassured me. However, again I made the grave mistake of asking for myself alone—a mistake I have since paid for with much regret.
Our course along the river did bring us to the sea; under the wintery sky that was a bleak and bitter place where winds searched out with fingers of ice any opening in one’s cloak or tunic. Yet this seemed to be the place the tribe sought and under the winds they walked as people who had been in exile but are now returned to their own place.
It was along that shore that the ruins I had missed inland were to be seen. The major pile lay on a point which thrust like the narrow blade of a sword into the sullen and metal gray sea. What it had been—a single castle
or fortification, a small walled town, a keep such as the Sulcar sea rovers had once built on Estcarp’s coast—I could not tell from a distance.
And distance was what the Vupsalls kept between themselves and it. Their camp lay about midpoint of the bay into which the river emptied, and that pile of rocks was on the north cape protecting the inner curve, leagues away, so that sometimes it was veiled from us by mists.
For the first time the Vupsalls made use of the remains of other structures. These were waist-high walls of well-set masonry. We may have been camping in the last vestiges of a town where men of the Old Race had once met shipping from overseas.
Our tents were incorporated with those walls for hybrid dwellings which gave us better shelter and such warmth as I, for one, welcomed. I noted that the tribe must have known this spot well and used it many times before, since each team and sled made its way to a certain walled foundation as if coming home. Bahayi, not waiting any direction from me, sent our own hounds to one of the foundations a little apart, the last intact one to the north of those chosen for dwellings. Perhaps this one was Utta’s when she had been here. I accepted Bahayi’s selection, for it served my purpose well, being away from the rest.
I helped her rather ineptly to use the tent walls plus those of a good-sized roofless room. Then she made an improvised broom of a branch, sweeping out sand and other debris, leaving us underfoot a smooth flooring of squared blocks. She brought in armloads of branches with small aromatic green leaves. Some of these she built into beds along the wall, others she shredded into bits and strewed on the floor, so that the scent of their crushing arose pleasantly to mask the odor the stone cell had had at our coming.
At one end was a fireplace which we put to good use. And when we were settled in I found this to be more comfortable than any abode I had been in since leaving the Valley. I sat warming my hands at the fire while Bahayi prepared our supper. I wondered what manner of man had built this house whose shell now sheltered us, and how long it had been since the builders had left the village to sand, wind, rain, snow and the seasonal visits of the nomads.