‘I heard what they think before I was taken ill,’ she responded, raising her voice so everyone in the tent could hear. ‘Unfortunately, the men did not think to include me in the discussion. Therefore I see no need to include them in my decision.’
‘Which is?’ Conal asked eagerly.
Stella looked more closely at him, trying to ascertain the source of his excitement. Had he overheard the conversation between herself and Robal? Surely he couldn’t think that he…No, it must be excitement about resuming the journey. Stella knew the priest would not want to remain in this remote place, far from his scrolls and his books. So where did he want to be?
Wherever the subject of his life’s work happens to be, that is where. The knowledge discomfited her as much now as it had when he first explained it to her.
‘I’m going east,’ she said to them both. ‘East, to find some answers about myself. Come with me or not; it is your choice.’
‘How far east?’ they both asked together.
‘I am going to pay my old friend Phemanderac of Dhauria a visit,’ she said, not knowing she had decided this until the words left her mouth, but recognising their rightness as they did. ‘If he doesn’t have the answers I need, only one other place remains.’
Robal’s features fell at her words; but, interestingly, a smile appeared on the priest’s face. As though he knew exactly where she meant to go, and approved. Something within her began to cry a warning; or, perhaps, the cry had finally become audible.
The priest is not to be trusted.
Revulsion swept through Robal at her words. How could she? Nothing here was as it seemed. Stella had revealed far more than she suspected: not only did he know where her final destination was—if he was honest, he had guessed it some time ago—he now knew why she wished to travel there. Hers was a sad plight, desperately sad; he had indeed failed to think through the implications of her immortality. He loved her all the more for thinking of others, for not simply indulging her own appetites despite the awful consequences, especially when the likely outcome would end her own uniqueness. Instead, the despicable torture of the Destroyer and her own morality had condemned her to a lonely existence, isolation beyond his ability to imagine.
Only one person shared that lonely existence, and now Stella had announced she intended—no doubt had always intended—to travel in his direction. As much as he wanted for her to have happiness—to be honest, as much as he wished he could give happiness to her—Robal knew with a deep-bone certainty that she would not find happiness in the arms of another immortal. And not when that man was the Destroyer.
If he was right about her reasons for travelling east, she could not be trusted to act in Faltha’s best interests. Far from it. He must be ever at the ready: should she give any sign of joining herself to their enemy, he would do anything necessary to prevent it.
His hand drifted towards his sword—hilt. Anything. He arrested the motion, then smiled encouragingly at Stella, his heart aching fit to break.
The five of them left the next morning, as soon as practicable after Sauxa and Kilfor had tasked others to take care of the possessions they could not carry with them. Robal shook his head as he loaded the last of their supplies in the back of the wagon. Yes, he was grateful that Kilfor and Sauxa were coming with them, at least to the edge of the desert: if anyone could see them safe to Desicca, the Deep Desert of Faltha, the two plainsmen could. But two more in their party was a further complication.
He climbed up into the tray of his own covered trap, shook the reins and eased back against the bags of vegetables as the donkey pricked up her ears and began her slow amble down the southern path and out of Chardzou. ‘Come on, Lindha, that’s right, take your time,’ he cooed at her. No guardsman with any pride would choose a donkey unless there was no other burden-beast available, but Robal had become attached to the placid, even-tempered animal, to the point of giving it the name of his first—and extremely stubborn—ladylove.
At least someone in the party kept an even temper. He had tried broaching the issue of their destination again early this morning, managing only to raise Stella’s anger to levels he had not seen before. She doesn’t know what to do, he told himself, but the scenario played itself out in his mind with crushing inevitability. They would make the long journey to Bhrudwo, she would find some way to gain admittance to the Destroyer’s presence, and Robal would never see her again.
It was as well he had not spoken his fear to her; she would likely have bawled him out more effectively than his old drill captain, if the way she had dealt with Conal was anything to judge by. The priest’s only crime had been to suggest she did not look well enough to travel. After lashing him with her tongue, she had made him clear for her a space in the large wagon Sauxa and Kilfor had contributed to the expedition. He had completed the task as quickly as possible, then stayed out of sight until the last possible moment. Robal found himself wishing the priest had not reappeared.
Lindha kept up her steady pace all that day, and for a week thereafter. At the end of the sixth day, Sauxa halted in the midst of yet another featureless plain. ‘Here we will rest for a day,’ he announced, as though he were in charge of the enterprise.
‘Rest?’ Conal said to him as they climbed down from the wagon. ‘We’ve been travelling too slowly to need rest. Why not go faster?’
‘We rest one day in seven,’ said Sauxa, holding up both hands. ‘Old plainsman tradition.’
Beside him, his son snorted. ‘The old man makes up traditions to ease his haemorrhoids. Be a good idea to rest the animals, though.’
‘Lindha could keep going forever,’ Robal found himself saying, slightly annoyed that he seemed to have transferred his affection and allegiance from Stella to a donkey. Soft, that’s what I am. Too long away from the Pinion and my garrison.
‘May it be,’ Sauxa said, ‘but it would grind her down in the end. She has a very long way to go, and you will be thanking me for thinking of her before you are through. Not all animals have hides as tough as mine.’
‘Or heads as thick,’ Kilfor retorted. ‘But, surprisingly, the old man has come up with a good idea. There’s no hurry, is there?’
Both Conal and Robal raised their eyebrows at Stella, who shrugged. Taking that for agreement, the guardsman unhitched Lindha from her traces and set to rubbing her down, thinking all the while about his colleagues in the Instruian Guard. Men he’d probably never see again; a career lost because of one impulsive moment.
‘Ho, the camp!’
The hearty cry woke Stella, never an early riser, from a disturbing dream, the fragments of which poured from her memory like sand. She crawled from under the wagon, rolling her blanket up behind her, and peered into the pale morning sunlight.
A tall figure stood silhouetted twenty paces from the wagon, arms spread wide. Robal and Kilfor strode towards him, bodies tensed for trouble. Conal came and sat on his haunches next to where Stella knelt, still rubbing sleep from her eyes.
‘Anyone you know?’ she heard her guardsman say to Kilfor, and saw his barely perceptible headshake in reply.
‘Probably just a traveller wishing to exchange greetings and news. Or a trader looking to sell his wares,’ Conal said, frowning at the man.
‘I don’t see a wagon,’ Stella said.
‘What news?’ the man said in a distinctive bass rumble. ‘Do you welcome strangers?’
‘If they have food and tales to share, strangers are welcome to sit a while,’ Kilfor said. ‘We have finished breakfast, though enough remains, even after the attentions of my father, to feed a hungry man.’
‘And a hungry woman, I hope,’ Stella called. ‘Don’t make him stand there.’
The man followed Kilfor to the camp. As he moved from in front of the sun, Stella obtained her first look at him. His features bit into his face as though chiselled by a careless sculptor. Deep, wide-set brown eyes stared interestedly at the camp from below heavy brows; a narrow, aquiline nose surmounted a wide, full mouth and strong, stubb
led jaw. An eyebrow quirked up as he noticed her regard, and he grinned a slightly lopsided grin at her. He was immensely tall, the tallest man she had ever seen, a hand or more taller than Phemanderac the Dhaurian. He eclipsed Robal by a full head. His clothes were of boiled leather, a pleasing light brown, and, though travel-stained, were worn with a grace seldom seen outside of Instruere. A lightweight pack hung from his broad shoulders. She even noticed his long, slender fingers, which hovered near the hilt of a longsword.
‘I am called Heredrew where I come from,’ he said.
‘And where is that?’ Robal appeared to have taken an instant dislike to the stranger, which was out of character for the guardsman. It came to Stella’s mind that he had been somewhat on edge ever since they had left Chardzou.
‘Haurn,’ the man said. ‘Tor Hailan, to be precise.’
‘Been there,’ Kilfor said, equally on edge. ‘Didn’t like it; too cold.’
Stella shook her head. What was wrong with the men? They were acting like dogs marking out territory.
‘Your charms failed to impress the women, more like,’ Sauxa said.
‘No women, you old fool,’ his son replied. ‘Tor Hailan was sacked by the Sna Vazthans over a hundred years ago. Manned now by warriors of Haurn against their return. And I mean manned. Is that what you are, friend Heredrew? A warrior of Haurn?’
The stranger surely could not fail to miss the hostility directed at him, but his smile never altered. ‘It is as you say,’ he said in a voice half rumble, half purr.
‘And what brings you this way?’ Robal asked, standing in front of him, arms folded.
‘I’m searching for wisdom,’ he said.
Sauxa began to laugh, a dreadful braying noise that caused even Lindha to turn and regard him with gentle reproach. ‘Sorry, friend,’ he said, struggling to control himself. ‘But I was thinking just how far astray you are from your quest.’
‘Speak for yourself, old man,’ his son said.
‘Oh, I am,’ Sauxa replied. ‘A man with more wisdom than I would not be travelling with puffadders like you two, who lack even the common politeness to invite a stranger to sit down for a meal. What is it, boys? Too tall for your taste? Afraid of being out-crafted by a Northman? To say I’m ashamed of you both would be to admit that sometimes I’m pleased with you, so I’ll say nothing.’
He extended a hand to the visitor. ‘Now, Heredrew, will you join us for a morning meal? I’m Sauxa; the boys can name themselves. The girl, she is one of my wives. Her father called her Bandicoot for some reason. Call her Bandy and she’ll not take it askance.’
‘Be delighted to join you, Sauxa.’ The man stepped lightly past Robal and Kilfor; the latter busy turning a heated reply into a coughing fit.
Stella found herself struggling not to laugh. Time she put a lid on the old man, however, or next he’d be hinting at conjugal rights.
‘I’m no wife of yours outside your dreams, old man. And Bandy isn’t short for Bandicoot, as you well know. Come, Heredrew; share a meal with me and tell me of events in the north.’
‘I thank you, Bandy,’ he said solemnly, though with a glance at her that was far more knowing than she was comfortable with.
They sat opposite each other, the fire between them. Though the sun was now warming the air in preparation for its afternoon assault, the flames were welcome. Heredrew seemed to share her opinion, easing his long legs and shrugging off black leather boots. She tried not to stare at his feet.
‘Had them made specially,’ he said. ‘The boots, not the feet.’ The grin again. He bit into a piece of bread from his own pack, then drew out another and offered it to her. ‘Hungry?’
She took it and ate. Though not truly hungry, she was taken by its sweetness. ‘Nice,’ she said.
‘Now, Bandy. Ease my curiosity. You have the look of a northerner to me. Were you born around these parts?’
Damn that Sauxa. She hated having to invent and remember lies.
‘I was indeed, Heredrew, in Chardzou; though I’ve lived much of my life in Instruere. My mother was from the north, she never said exactly where. Couldn’t wait to leave it, apparently. One season on the steppes and she couldn’t wait to leave here either. She dropped me and ran off to the next adventure.’
‘Call me Drew,’ he said. ‘Such an interesting story. Mine is tame in comparison. A life devoted to keeping the eastward watch on the new-built walls of Tor Hailan does nothing for the mind. My family petitioned the king for my release from my bond; normally a man such as myself has to serve until he reaches his fortieth year. I have two years to search the world for wisdom before I must present myself before the throne of Haurn and explain to them what I have learned.’
‘Where has your quest taken you?’ Stella asked.
Conal sat down beside her. ‘Mind if I sit here, Bandy?’ he said, and gave her a silly grin. She waved a terse permission.
‘I didn’t stay long in Haurn, as you can imagine. I went to Instruere and spent a month looking through whatever documents I could persuade the scholars and archivists to relinquish to the hands of an untutored northerner. They were actually surprised I could read them. I tried to set up an interview with the Falthan queen: it is said in the north that she is wise as well as compassionate. However, the king died while I waited for a reply, and the queen went missing immediately after. Killed by the Halites, everyone said.’
‘So we heard,’ Stella said, desperately hoping she was keeping her face smooth. ‘She missed the king’s funeral.’
‘That’s why everyone thought her dead. By all accounts she loved the king dearly. Instruere was an unpleasant place as the Koinobia struggled with the Council of Faltha for power, so I left and decided to take a risk in my search for answers.’
Stella frowned. ‘A risk that brought you in this direction? You’ll get hedge-wisdom here—grass-wisdom, actually—and while these people know how to live, we won’t fill your head with thoughts profound enough to impress the King of Haurn.’
‘Well, as to that, I must confess I am here merely because here is between Instruere and my destination.’
‘Which is where? Where are you headed, Drew?’
‘To the roots of the First Men, to find answers for my questions. Why would Sna Vaztha set out to conquer fellow Falthans? What happened to pit us one against the other? Only one place I can find answers to questions like that. I’m looking for Dona Mihst.’
Stella felt her eyes widen involuntarily. Her hand went to her face and she nearly dropped her bread.
‘It’s a real place,’ Heredrew said confidently, apparently mistaking her surprise for disbelief. ‘The original place from where came the Four Houses of Faltha, the First Men who settled the Sixteen Kingdoms. Another reason I went first to Instruere is that in Haurn we have heard rumours that a scholar from Dona Mihst is—was—a friend of the Falthan king. I would very much like to have met this man of letters.’
Kilfor and Robal sat down either side of the newcomer, in a clear attempt to intimidate him. Heredrew affected not to notice them.
Conal closed his mouth, which had been open for the last minute, and swallowed. ‘You seek Dona Mihst? That which is now called Dhauria?’
‘I do, friend,’ Heredrew said evenly.
Robal and Kilfor signalled frantically to Conal to keep quiet. Stella could have told them not to waste their effort.
‘Why, that is where we are travelling! I’m sure we’d welcome the company.’
‘You travel to Dona Mihst? Truly?’ The man’s face lit up in genuine pleasure. Beside him Robal held both hands to his forehead, while Kilfor did not trouble to conceal the anger clouding his features.
‘Truly, Heredrew. Well, Sauxa and Kilfor will accompany us as far as the desert’s edge, but the rest of us will cross the Deep Desert to Dhauria.’
‘For what purpose, may I ask?’ Again the question was genuine, but Stella sensed the man was fencing with them. He knows he is not going to be told the truth, and wonders how elaborate
the lies will be. Very well, then.
‘I travel to Dhauria in search of answers,’ she said, an earnest intensity suffusing her tone. Easy when you tell the truth. ‘Answers about life and death, about the Most High and why he is so cruel.’
She snapped her mouth shut. Where did that come from? I was supposed to lie to him. Robal shook his head in exasperation.
‘Ah yes, being abandoned by your mother must leave you with many questions,’ said Heredrew, but his look said: You and I both know I’m covering you. There’s a story here and I want to hear it. She smiled weakly. Things had come to a narrow pass when even the truth failed her. ‘And so good of your friends to accompany you. Your journey is much like mine, then.’
With those words, or perhaps it was a matter of simple coincidence, something swirled at the back of her head. The presence—his presence—which had remained dormant since her near-death at the hands of the Lord of Fear, surged into life. She had the sudden unsettling sensation that she was two or even three people overlaid one on the next, each with the same background, the same plans, the same destiny. She had felt something similar once before, on the docks at Vindicare.
‘St—Bandy, are you all right?’ Conal asked, reaching out a hand to her.
Stella shook her head, an action she instantly regretted.
‘She’s not well; something she drank. Perhaps we should excuse her.’
Oh yes, Conal, thank you for your uncharacteristic thoughtfulness. She rose abruptly, which only accelerated the physical processes begun by the weird duplication in her head. Though she ran as quickly as she could, she barely made it behind the men’s tent before she threw up her breakfast and much of last night’s meal.
As the wagons rolled further south the few signs of human habitation faded to none. The last path turned to a rutted track and petered out at the edge of a field of wild wheat; beyond the field, the countryside grew progressively wilder. Flat prairie became rolling hill country, and the northern horizon expanded behind them until it seemed the travellers could see a hundred miles of golden haze.
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