The Saga of the Renunciates

by Marion Zimmer Bradley

  The sun set, and the swift-falling night which gave Darkover its name dropped across the Venza Mountains. There was no rain; Camilla, taking advantage of the rare good weather, pushed the pace as hard as she could. It was nearly midnight when she signaled a halt. They set up camp quickly by lantern light, and Cholayna kindled a small fire to heat water for hot drinks, though they ate only bread and cold meat from their packs.

  “We can get fresh food in the villages for a few days, and save the trail food,” Camilla said, chewing a handful of dried fruit. “After that we’ll be in the hills; and villages where we can get provisions may be three or four days’ ride apart.”

  “How do we know which way we are going, or shouldn’t I ask?” Vanessa’s voice was quiet in the darkness beyond the fire; it was Jaelle who answered.

  “Margali told you about the letter? Rafaella said she would wait three days at the place where we slaughtered the chervines. She knew I would remember that. It was ten years ago; we were young girls, traveling with Kindra. We ran out of food and water and killed the animals rather than leave them to starve. The fresh meat let us get along without water. But it was a near thing. I haven’t been that hungry since, and I hope I never am again.”

  She cast a quick look at the dark sky. “We’d better turn in. This weather may hold another day, but when it breaks, it’s likely to break for good. North of Dammerung Pass, we’ll be in the foothills. I’d rather not spend a tenday holed up in a snow cave! And, if we want to catch up with Rafaella, they’re traveling lighter than we are.”

  Jaelle had done this work for years; there had been many times when her life, or the lives of a dozen other people, had depended on her judgment about the weather.

  Without discussion, Vanessa went to help Camilla with the horses, while Cholayna started pulling out the sleeping bags.

  They slept in a ring, feet to the last coals of the dying fire. Magda, looking into the unusually clear night at the rarely seen stars of the Darkovan sky, wondered what Rafaella would say, if they did catch up, about having the Terrans with them.

  As if Magda had spoken aloud, Jaelle said, “She did tell us to bring along a few people who could travel hard, live rough—”

  “And take orders,” Magda said wryly. She couldn’t see either Vanessa or Cholayna doing that.

  And what if they did not catch up to Rafaella? Only a dangerous trip through the wildest unknown country on Darkover, where Darkovans themselves never went, seeking a city that might not even exist. Her back ached and she was no longer accustomed to hard riding. She thought of Shaya, and had a sudden picture in her mind, like a vision, of her child peacefully sleeping at Armida.

  What am I doing here? I have a family now, a child, a home and work I love, and here I am heading into wild country chasing a dream, a legend, wild geese… The memory of Damon’s eyes, Callista’s chiding face, seemed to reproach her. Why have I involved myself in this madness? I should have left it to Jaelle—Rafi’s her partner, Rafi doesn’t even like me. And Cholayna’s career is at stake, it makes sense for her to be here.

  In the morning, she decided, she would tell them all firmly that it wasn’t her business at all, and set off toward Armida and her loved ones and, most of all, her daughter.

  Yet, as she fell asleep, she couldn’t help but feel again the excitement of the unknown trail ahead, leading up into territory where no Terran had ever set foot, and quite probably no woman except the unknown leroni. That night her dreams resounded with the calling of crows.

  Four days north from Thendara, the weather broke, and by noon heavy flakes began drifting slowly from the sky, each one as big across as Jaelle’s palm. Jaelle swore softly as she rummaged in her pack for mittens and a warm hood.

  “I’d hoped we’d get across Ravensmark Pass before the snow set in. There’s always nasty going along those ledges. I should have taken the longer route through Hammerfell, but I gambled on the weather, hoping we could gain a day and catch up with Rafaella. Somebody told me in the last town that some of the road was washed out over Ravensmark in the summer floods. In good weather it wouldn’t matter. In this—” She stopped and stood, watching, as if trying to see through the thick flakes.

  Vanessa asked, “Should we go back then and catch up on the road to Hammerfell?”

  Jaelle shook her head, causing a loose strand of auburn hair to tumble from her hood. “Too late for that. We’d lose two days now. And we have no way of knowing which way they took. Magda, have you any idea?”

  Magda caught what she was thinking; she was doing it all the time now, almost automatically. She ought to be accustomed to it by now; she remembered how she had used her laran to track Jaelle through hills like these, years ago. But she shook her head.

  “I’m not close enough to either of them for that.”

  “But you actually probed Lexie’s mind,” Jaelle protested, “that might make a bond.”

  “I’m not sure I want a bond like that,” said Magda wearily; but she closed her eyes and tried to see Lexie; and for a moment, she had a fleeting glimpse of Lexie, her head covered with a Darkovan hooded cape, leaning forward over a pony’s neck… Snow seemed to blot out the vision, she did not know whether it was the snow falling now, or some other storm in some other place, could not tell whether it had been memory or imagination or a true picture from her laran.

  She said, doubtfully, “I think I saw—they have been delayed by a storm? I’m not sure.” Even with the whole of the Forbidden Tower matrix circle around her, she knew the same uncertainty would have remained: present—where Lexie was now—or a flash from past or future.

  “I’d do as well guessing,” she sighed, “and you could make a better guess about Rafaella than I could.”

  “I’ve been trying to do that,” Jaella told her, “but I don’t like it. We were so close, for so long, it’s as if I was using that closeness to spy on her. And she has no laran at all, she would never understand.”

  Magda heard also what Jaelle didn’t say; this was not the first time her Comyn birth, the heritage of laran they could never share, had come between them, disrupting their long partnership, even their brief time as lovers. Rafaella could have forgiven Jaelle everything except this, that she had returned to bear a child to a Comyn lord—had taken a place in that mysterious world in which Rafaella could have no part. Magda thought Rafaella could even have forgiven Jaelle for that, if Jaelle had had to leave all of her Renunciate world behind. What she could never forgive was that Magda, a Terran, had followed Jaelle where Rafi herself could not.

  “Trying to track them with laran is foolishness,” Vanessa said, so impatiently that for a moment Magda wondered if she had been thinking aloud. Then she remembered what Jaelle had actually said, about trying to follow Rafaella with the psychic bond between them.

  “Maybe one of you can do it, maybe you can’t, I don’t see why you should waste time trying. Is it important to know if they came this way?”

  “Only to know how near they are to the meeting place she left the message about,” Jaelle said. “If they had good luck and good weather, traveling light, they could be at Barrensclae already—that’s where we slaughtered the chervines—and we’ve got three days to catch them there.”

  “How far is it?” Camilla asked. “I’m not familiar with the place.”

  “In good weather? Ten hours, once we cross Ravensmark. In this? Your guess is as good as mine. A day, ten days, never. If we hit avalanches, we might not make it at all.”

  “Avalanches?” Cholayna craned her neck up toward the pass, invisible in the flying snow. “How high is Ravensmark?”

  “Eleven thousand forty.”

  “Meters? Good God! You can’t call that a pass! That’s a mountain all by itself.”

  “No, eleven thousand forty feet—”

  “What’s that in civilized numbers?” Vanessa demanded.

  “I can’t be bothered to figure all these numbers for you,” Jaelle snapped, “I have important things to worry about, s
uch as how in the names of all the goddesses we’re going to get these horses across here if the road’s been washed out from the summer floods! There’s a long stretch where the road has never been good for more than one pony’s width, a washout there could mean losing half our baggage. Do you want to hike through the Kilghards in a backpack and no spare boots? I don’t.”

  “I’ve probably climbed worse,” Vanessa said. “Believe it or not, Jaelle, there are other planets with snow and high mountains in the Empire. If you’re not able to get over a pass without your mystical psychic powers—”

  “Now listen here—” Jaelle began.

  “Hold it! Both of you,” Camilla ordered. “If we’re going to stand here arguing about what we’re going to do, let’s use the time for something practical while we wait. Vanessa, hunt out the grain. We’ll feed the animals. Then if we decide to start over the pass, they at least will be well fed and in good shape. Jaelle, have you been over Ravensmark before this?”

  “Twice. It’s easier this way. Coming down from the North, you’re more exposed to the wind. But this direction isn’t exactly a picnic. I really am worried about washouts, and with snow in the pass—if Vanessa is really as experienced as she claims, she wouldn’t take it lightly either.”

  “I never said I was taking it lightly,” Vanessa quibbled, “but I do feel, the worse it is, the more sense it makes to get over it before the snow gets any deeper. If Jaelle doesn’t feel comfortable leading the way, I’ll try.”

  “I know the way, and you don’t,” Jaelle said. “If it can be led at all, I’ll lead it. I’m not worried about getting across myself, on foot. The chervines can make it, it’s their kind of country, after all. And I think the ponies probably can. But I tell you, those ledges are narrow. Even at the best, you don’t cross Ravensmark on horseback. It makes Scaravel look like the Great Northern Road. Even with washouts, I’d try it in decent weather. But if we get a hard freeze, and there’s glare ice—I’m not actively suicidal, and I don’t imagine you are.”

  “That bad, huh?” Vanessa looked at Jaelle in silence for a minute. When at last she spoke, to Magda’s relief, there was not a trace of argumentativeness in her voice.

  “What are our options, then? If the risk is that great—what alternatives do we have?”

  Jaelle considered this for a moment. She looked at the thickening snow, and said, “If we don’t cross it tonight, it probably can’t be crossed at all until after next spring-thaw. That’s why it’s the least traveled pass in the Kilghard Hills. Once there’s glare ice on those ledges, I wouldn’t cross it for all the copper in Zandru’s tomb. We’d have no choice except to go back, and go round by Hammerfell.”

  “Can we cross it tonight?”

  “I think I could get across in daylight,” Jaelle mused, “though I might have to lead the horses across one by one. If you’re used to mountain-style ice-climbing, you probably could. And I’d bet on Camilla. I’m not sure about Magda, but she did get across Scaravel in the dead of winter, and I wasn’t any help even when the banshees found us. But—” She turned and looked at the one remaining woman.

  Cholayna looked straight into Jaelle’s eyes. “I’m not afraid.”

  “That has nothing to do with it. It’s not your courage I question. It’s your balance, your skill, your head for heights. Magda has no head for heights at all, but she knows I do, and she’ll take orders. What about you? Ravensmark is about the worst trail you can imagine, and then some. Vanessa has done some climbing for the fun of it, so I know she won’t panic when the going gets rough—and believe me, it’s rough enough that I get scared myself, and I don’t usually scare. If you lose your nerve when we’re in the neck of the pass, along those ledges—what then? We won’t be able to turn around and go back, not at that point. Once we’re halfway over, it’s too late. I think we’re going to have to go around. I honestly can’t be sure you’ll make it, and I don’t want to risk all our lives on your nerves.”

  Cholayna opened her mouth to protest, and shut it again. At last she said, “Fair enough. I’m the weak link. Do you want me to turn back, and let the rest of you go on? Because what you’re saying is, the rest of you can make it without me. And if you turn back and go around—there wouldn’t be much chance of catching up with them in time—right?”

  “If we go round by Hammerfell,” Camilla said, “I doubt we’d catch up with them this side of Nevarsin.”

  “And if we—or you—go on, you have a good chance?”

  “A chance,” Jaelle said. “Not a good chance. There’s that, too. I could risk all our lives and push across Ravensmark, and we might still lose them. I don’t know if it’s worth pushing you all this way for such a bare chance. I’m no gambler—never have been.”

  “Forget about me,” Cholayna said. “What do you want to do?”

  Jaelle turned on her angrily. “That’s not a fair question! How can I forget about you? You’re here! Do you think I want your death on my conscience?”

  “I shouldn’t have come, should I?”

  “Too late to worry about that now,” Camilla said, while Jaelle hesitated, too polite to answer. “Done is done. I can see why you wanted to come, why you had to. Sending you back alone would be just as dangerous as trying to drag you across Ravensmark, so forget about it. Just shut up and let Jaelle think what’s right to do.”

  Cholayna shut up. It must, Magda thought, have been the first time in twenty years that Cholayna had been treated like a nuisance, a liability. It was Jaelle who must make the final decision. Quietly she went to the saddlebags, dug out rations and shared out handfuls of dried fruit and meat bars.

  “Whether we cross or go back, we won’t have time for a meal in the neck of the pass. We fed the horses, which makes sense. Eat.” She handed Jaelle some of the meat-and-dried-fruit mixture, and Jaelle put some of the stuff, absentmindedly, into her mouth and chewed.

  Cholayna nibbled on a raisin, and Camilla said, “Eat some of the meat, too. Whatever we do, in this cold you need something solid.”

  Cholayna sighed, put the dried meat into her mouth with visible distaste. What Camilla had said was right, and Cholayna knew it, but Magda, watching her struggle to keep from spitting out the detested and unfamiliar food, felt considerable sympathy for her. Cholayna Ares was used to giving orders, not taking them; and while she might be willing to take them on important things which were obviously a question of all their lives, she would, sooner or later, refuse to take orders about personal matters.

  Vanessa looked at the sky, from which the color was already beginning to fade as the snow thickened. “So what are we going to do? If we’re going to try to cross, we’d better not waste any more time. And if we’re not, shouldn’t we get under cover?”

  Magda knew that Jaelle had no taste for making such decisions. Yet they were all turning to her, demanding it. She wished she could shelter her friend in her arms and protect her. But for better or for worse, the decision was Jaelle’s.

  Jaelle finished the mouthful of dried meat and fruit, swallowed once or twice, and sighed. “I don’t know what to say. I swear I don’t! Vanessa, what do you think?”

  “I’m not as familiar as you are with the place. I’m not familiar with it at all. If you want to try, I’ll follow. We can give it a good try.”

  “Magda, what do you say?”

  “I’m willing to take the risk, if you think it can be done.”

  “I know that,” Jaelle said, and now she sounded irritable. “I’m asking what you think Cholayna’s chances are of making it, and whether it’s worth pushing on, with the risks what they are; or if we should play it safe, turn around and head for Hammerfell. Or would you take her round by Hammerfell, and Van and I go over, try to catch up, and wait for you at Barrensclae?”

  “Maybe you should ask Vanessa,” Magda temporized, half joking. “Personnel is her job. I think we should all go ahead, or all go back together and go round. If she goes back, I shall have to go with her. What about it, Cholayna? Do yo
u want to try? I see no point losing three days or so, but only you know if you’re willing to risk it. But if Jaelle thinks I can make it, you probably can.”

  “I’ll try,” Cholayna said, with the ghost of a smile. “And I promise not to lose my nerve. Or, if I do, I’ll keep my mouth shut about it.”

  Jaelle shrugged. “All right. Let’s go before the snow gets any thicker and has a chance to freeze. If we can get through before there’s ice on the ledges, it will be a lot more workable. One word of advice—and this goes for you too, Magda. Keep your eyes on the trail and don’t look down.”

  * * *

  Chapter Eleven

  At first the road led upward between hills, steep but not yet menacing. The snowflakes had grown smaller, no longer hand-sized, but the smaller flakes came down thickly, and Magda knew this meant the snow would continue to fall. There were still a few hours of grayish daylight.

  Jaelle led the way, muffled in cloak and hood, thick scarf tied over her face; Camilla came after, with two chervines broken to a tandem rein; then Cholayna, at the center, on the smallest and most-sure-footed of the mountain ponies. Magda came behind her, riding a horse and leading one of the chervines. Vanessa, mountain-wise but unfamiliar with the trail, brought up the rear.

  As the trail led upward, it grew fainter and steeper. Parts of it were trodden deeply into old mud, rocks lining the path underfoot, and patches of last winter’s snow clinging beneath the thick tree-hedges that lined the road. It was very silent, even the animal’s hooves sounding muffled underfoot, and the snow continued to fall. Upward and still upward; now there were places where the trail all but disappeared between trees and rocks. The chervines did not like it, and whickered uneasily as they picked their way. After an hour’s riding—-though it seemed like more—Camilla signaled a halt, got down and took the two tethered-together pack animals off the tandem rein.