Something in his tone disturbed Gwynn. Darion’s expression seemed open enough, but she was certain he had a good reason for wanting them not to tell anyone about possessing uesa beatha. “Of course, I would keep it a secret if you asked it of me, but why is that important, especially when you say that neither my people nor yours should know?” She was also aware Shae was waiting for the answer as well.
“Because mortals have been known to grow to crave the feeling they receive from it and go to extreme lengths to have more. The eldest among my people, learning that, resolved not to offer it to mortals again and so would not approve of my giving it to you.” Gwynn knew that while Darion was not lying to her, he was also not telling her everything.
I’ll find out more about it later, she promised herself.
“I can see that,” she said aloud. “It is a wonderful feeling, and I am certain there are those who would seek to have it repeated as often as possible. Neither of us will speak of it; will we Shae?” Gwynn sent a pleading glance at him, knowing how impossible lying was for a Southron.
“I can see the potential for uesa beatha to cause problems for those lacking in self-discipline,” he said without hesitation. “You may rely on my discretion.”
“I am glad we understand each other,” Darion said.
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After a rapid meal, they set off eastward once more; Gwynn was the first to notice the clouds building up behind them as the afternoon wore on. “There will be rain tonight,”
she said, looking at the sky behind her. “Not like that awful storm we raced to Mazlo, but enough to make sleeping outside uncomfortable.”
“Normally, I would suggest we find a farmstead and beg the use of the barn, but I’m not sure that’s best right now.” Shae’s gaze shifted evenly between Darion and Gryffyn.
“I don’t think it would be a problem at all,” Gwynn stated airily. “Bards are always welcome, and if anyone inquires, I will say that my father got lost in his music, and I hired the two of you to see us safely to the college in Samhayne in hope of finding his cure. Besides, you and Darion will probably scare the breeches off anyone we meet, so I doubt they will ask too many questions.”
While Shae hesitated, Darion joined Gwynn’s prodding of him. “Don’t you really want to know if I can manage it? Is there not some small part of you who wants to find out if a Pathani can actually pass himself off as a Southron?”
“So be it, but it is on both of your heads should anything go wrong,” Shae growled. “My responsibility is to Gwynn alone. Pathani immortals have to fend for themselves.”
“Sometimes, you worry too much, venchar. We will all be fine,” Gwynn assured him.
“Sometimes, you don’t worry enough, little one,” he shot back with an affectionate grumble, “but we will try it your way. I don’t like camping in the rain if it can be avoided either.” Gwynn was already hearing the muted roll of thunder by the time she caught sight of what looked to be a 261
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promising farmstead. When they drew near, she cautioned Darion, “Now remember, you are a Southron. You are supposed to be taciturn in public. Let me do the talking.” He answered with a creditable imitation of Shae’s wordless disapproving rumbles. “Oh, well done! You sound just like a grumpy bear, er, I mean Shae!”
Shae’s eyebrow shot up. “A grumpy bear, am I? Just remember, grumpy bears have the longest and sharpest claws in the forest; wise men leave them alone.”
Approaching, they discerned a barn, several more outbuildings, and a long low house with a deep porch across the front. A boy and a girl were driving a herd of sheep into a pen with the able assistance of their dogs, while a dark-haired man corralled several milk cows in another. The dogs noticed the riders first and rushed toward the horses, barking frantically. That got the attention of the humans, and the man came forward, telling the dogs to be silent while the children hovered wide-eyed behind him.
Gwynn pushed Rogue a few steps in front of her companions and put on her most winning smile. “Greetings, kind sir.” The man stared at her without responding, so Gwynn continued, her tone becoming gentle and persuasive.
“I know we are a strange lot to find on your doorstep. I am Gwynn ferch Gryffyn of Inishmore, and this is my father, Gryffyn ap Daffyd. My escorts are Shae, Brashaen’s son and Darion, Navarre’s son.”
The man nodded. Gwynn’s introduction had given him time to get over his initial caution. “Good day to you also, lady bard. I am Polis, and you are strange people to find at my door.” Polis’ voice contained the broad vowels of the Middlelands. “What can I do for you?”
“We would beg the use of your barn during the rain we know is coming this evening. I will gladly pay lodging for us and our horses, in addition to providing entertainment for 262
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you and your family tonight.” Gwynn leaned toward Polis and lowered her voice, seeming to take him into her confidence. “My father is not well and shelter would be best for him. He is lost in his music, and I cannot reach him. We are bound for Samhayne to see if someone at the college there knows how to help.”
Shae nudged Talon forward beside Rogue and added,
“I would be glad to add my hunting talents to your family’s larder as well. We have some time before the rain arrives. I’m sure we can contribute.”
“It would be welcome.” He motioned the boy forward, “Keelin, show our visitors where they may keep their horses. When they are settled, come to the house. We have room enough; there is no need for you to sleep with your mounts. Sabie and I will tell her mother we are having company.”
Keelin was shy at first, but it didn’t take long for Gwynn to charm him out of his shell. Before the companions went to the house, they all knew that he was fourteen. His sister was thirteen. Their mother’s name was Graine, and she was considered a skilled weaver. They also learned there was a new litter of kittens in the barn, which Gwynn insisted she had to see.
Shae left them at the barn door and wound between the animal pens, heading toward a brushy area on a hill to the north. Gwynn linked her father’s arm with hers and followed Keelin to the house. She was carrying her bedroll and saddlebags, but Darion, in true Southron fashion, had relieved Shae of his, in addition to bringing his own.
“Don’t overdo it,” Gwynn cautioned him in an undertone. He didn’t answer, but the gleam in his eyes told her Darion was enjoying his masquerade. When they reached the house, Graine greeted them and showed them to a large 263
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windowed room with a fireplace at one end. There were chairs and settles scattered around the walls.
“We haven’t an extra sleeping room as that is where I keep my looms, but you may make yourselves comfortable here in our front room,” the farmer’s wife said. “The well is out back if you wish to refresh yourselves from your journey.”
Darion and Gwynn decided to put their baggage in a corner, since it appeared that this room was probably where their host’s family spent the evenings. After they had rinsed off the road dust, Gwynn led her father back in while Darion refilled a bucket from the well at Graine’s request and brought it into the house. The back door led into the farmstead’s kitchen, and they joined the farmer’s wife there.
Gwynn offered to help with the supper preparation and was pressed into service, peeling and slicing vegetables. Keelin scurried in a bit later just in front of Shae, announcing that he had returned with two fat rabbits. Graine added them to her stewpot with the vegetables Gwynn had prepared and spitted a large capon over the fire.
Darion followed Shae’s lead and ate like a true Southron at dinner, but the abundant table Graine set slowed them all at the end. They had rabbit stew, roast capon, soft farmer’s cheese, and new baked bread. Gwynn quietly encouraged her father to eat, and Gryffyn did, which she was glad to see. Sabie proudly informed them that the butter came from a cow her father had let her raise from an orphan and that the honey came from Keelin’s bees.
Gwynn caught the indulgent pride in the eyes of her parents and smiled. “I have had too many suppers over campfires or in taverns these last years; I had forgotten what a joy it was to eat with a family at their own table.”
“The Mother has blessed us with her bounty,” Polis said modestly, “and we thank her often.”
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About the time they finished dinner, the rain began.
It was what Gwynn had predicted, a good soaking rain of the kind that farmers welcomed in the late summer. Darion volunteered to help when Graine began to clear the table and wash the dishes. Gwynn couldn’t keep from wondering if he had ever washed a dish in his life, but he still seemed to be enjoying his bit of harmless subterfuge.
“Go tune your harp, so you can make music for our hosts,” he urged, his accent still perfect. “Shae and I made most of the dishes; I might as well help clean them.”
Although she suspected she was keeping them up later than they were used to, Polis and his family begged Gwynn to keep singing well into the evening. Knowing that her visit was an unusual treat, she kept making music until her throat began to feel it and warned her to stop.
After their hosts bade them all good night and Gwynn was unrolling her bedding, Shae asked softly, “So, do you prefer a larger or smaller audience?”
“I don’t need an audience to enjoy making music, but the audience is good for my conceit.”
“I had suspected as much for quite some time.”
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The roosters crowing at dawn brought a groan from Gwynn, and she burrowed deeper into her blanket while Shae threw his back and stretched. He exchanged an amused look with Darion at her action before he slipped outside to run through his sword drills. He was surprised to find Darion had followed him into the yard.
“I do practice upon occasion,” Darion told Shae when his eyebrow shot up in inquiry. “Gunnar is of the opinion I should do it more often, however. Besides, wouldn’t our hosts expect to find us both here?”
“Yes, they would. I have wanted to cross blades with you from the moment we met.”
“I wonder if I should be concerned by your desire?”
“Probably,” he assured Darion with his most wolfish grin. “Ready?”
He found that, while Darion was not the polished opponent Gunnar and his lieutenants were, what he lacked in style, he made up in speed and strength. After a few tentative rounds that the pair spent in familiarizing themselves with each other, they began to spar in earnest, filling the air with the sound of clashing steel. By the time the aroma of breakfast reached the yard, they were both winded, but Shae took a lot of satisfaction in the fact that he had bested Darion twice; however, it had not been easy. Shae was also annoyed that while he had worked up a sweat in the 266
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morning’s heat, Darion’s brow was not damp. Something to do with their cold blood, he decided, maybe they just didn’t sweat like poor mortals.
“Goddess bless, if it’s not the blasted roosters, it’s the two of you making more noise than an army. What do the lot of you have against sleep?” Gwynn was barefoot on the porch with her blanket wrapped around her, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“But what better way to work up an appetite for breakfast?” Shae asked while he sheathed his rirani. “You should join us sometime.”
“You won’t catch me doing anything other than lifting a mug of tea this close to sunrise, and I would prefer to still be asleep,” Gwynn shot back before flouncing into the house, muttering about the barbaric hours Southrons kept and seeming to forget that one of the men aggravating her was not Southron at all.
Darion fol owed her while Shae went to the well to rinse off. He found Gwynn sitting on her bedroll and brushing her hair. “Poor pet, you have never gained a love for the beauty of the dawn.”
“Not unless I’m seeing it before I go to bed.”
Putting a finger against his lips to bid her to be silent, Darion gave her his flask. “Consider it my gift to our hosts.
You should be just as radiant and charming when you leave as when you arrived. Anything less would be a violation of their hospitality.”
“Ah, gods,” Gwynn sighed happily after she drank,
“you are right in what you said. You should keep uesa beatha away from me; I like it far too much. But it is kind of you to think so kindly of Polis and Graine. Go on; I smell breakfast, something that will bring a Southron straight to the table, so you had better show up promptly. I’ll be there in a few moments. Shae will suspect something if I arrive sooner.”
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She rolled her blankets and did the same for her father after asking him to sit in a chair. Gwynn realized, looking at Gryffyn, that his chin had stubble on it, and his hair was tangled. She touched his cheek lightly, thinking how much her father had always hated it when he was not clean-shaven.
“At least I can fix this,” Gwynn whispered to him, using her brush to gently untangle his hair. It seemed wrong; this was something a father did for his daughter, who could not do it for herself, not a daughter doing it for her father. “I will make it right, Da, no matter how difficult it is.” She took her father’s hand and led him to the kitchen for breakfast, telling herself I will succeed. I cannot consider anything else.
Polis tried to refuse the coins Gwynn offered him for their lodgings when they made ready to leave. She was adamant, telling him that while the Goddess might be generous in her bounty, the Mother also expected Her children to use common sense when opportunity presented itself. “Besides,” she told him confidentially while Shae and Darion brought the horses to the door, “I heard Sabie saying that she wanted another calf to raise and that one of your near neighbors has a pretty brown and white one. Why not get it for her? Would it not be nice to let our surprise visit lead to another surprise for her?” Polis accepted the money Gwynn offered him then, thanking her for thinking of his family. The monotony of the landscape of the Merton Hills was beginning to wear on her by late afternoon; the repetitive ridges and hollows were too like the thoughts circling around in her head about what she was going to attempt. Gwynn heaved a sigh of relief when Shae halted Talon and pointed to the foot of the hill they had just crested. “I think we have found the trade road we were hunting. That is Khymerian stonework.” At the bottom of the ridge was a narrow, paved track.
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They descended the hill, and Gwynn frowned while she looked both up and down it. “I know Da had been on the road about two seven-nights, but I’m not sure if we should go northwest or southeast from this spot.”
Shae rode Talon into the center of the road, mentally measuring the width of it. “The road is one and a half wains wide, which means we are fewer than 250 leagues from Samhayne.”
“How do you know that?” Darion inquired, curious about Shae’s statement.
“The Imperial road standards decreed a secondary road width of one and a half wains breadth within 250
leagues of the capital. That is something you should have learned during your first years of schooling. It’s in the basic history of the Empire. Did—Harkir’s Forge!” Shae swore.
“That blasted glamour of yours made me forget to whom I was talking. I was about to give you the kind of dressing down that my father gives his fosterlings.” From the blaze in Shae’s eyes and the formidable expression on his face, Gwynn had the feeling that Darion should be relieved he was not a Southron fosterling. Shae turned to Gwynn, his expression softening when he asked, “Can you tell if your father was still riding on the paved portion of the road?”
Her eyes narrowed while she skimmed her father’s memory. “The road had become hard packed dirt. We should go northwest.” Gwynn sighed and urged Rogue on to the road, wondering how much longer they would be looking.
Shae fell in alongside her and said reassuringly, “I don’t think it can be too much farther, sinc
e a rider on a good horse can usually cover 20 to 30 leagues a day, and you said your father had been on the road around two seven-nights.”
“Lifeguards really do have all the right answers, even 269
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when I don’t know I’m asking a question.”
“That’s what friends are for, not just Lifeguards.”
“Ariadwen knows, I’m glad to have you as both.”
They were beginning to look for a camping spot early in the evening when the paving ended abruptly. Gwynn took it as an encouraging sign that she would soon be able to locate the place where Aere had taken Gryffyn. Just after the companions finished their meal, they heard an approaching horse. Shae laid his hands on the rirani lying beside him while the horse drew nearer, peering intently into the darkness.
“Govain, mir Rhi, ta’an Gunnar.” Darion and Shae jumped to their feet when Gunnar trotted into the firelight.
Gunnar stared at Darion’s appearance for a moment before saying, “Interesting, mir Rhi, somehow it suits you.”
Darion looked puzzled and then remembered that he was still wearing his glamour. He shrugged and returned to his normal appearance, while the other two Pathani horses did as well. “Shae was worried about how distinctive I and the horses looked; he thought the locals might get unnerved.”
“Possible, I suppose,” Gunnar chuckled. “I paid little attention as it has been my experience mortals see what they think they should and few mortals these days think they should see a Pathani. I brought the things you left behind as asked.”
Gwynn was already at his horse’s side undoing the straps that secured her lute. “I’m so glad. I had only just gotten it before we came to Heralith; it’s barely broken in.”
Gunnar reached into his saddlebags, bringing out a carefully wrapped bundle and two magnificently engraved silver flasks. He gave one flask to Shae and the other, along with the bundle, to Gwynn. “The uesa beatha as requested, just be judicious in its use. Also, I was certain that Rhian Selene would like you to keep the clothing she gave you.”
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