"He seemed pretty capable when I saw him."
"Oh, yes, he is! A regular one-man army, Ullin is! We are lucky to have him as our commander. Not just lessons out of a book, either. He's got a lot of experience, though he speaks little of it, from out west. Not unless it has something to do with explaining some lesson or other to us."
"Well, from what I hear, you Passdalers did pretty well last night."
"Oh, yes," Robby agreed. "I think we did, though every single one of us was scared out of his wits, except maybe Ibin and Ullin. I can't tell you how hard it was not to turn and run when I heard those horses thundering down on us."
"But you didn't."
"No. No one panicked. Ullin did a fine job holding us together, I must say. Out of past practice, I suppose. Damn!" Robby jerked Anerath to a sudden halt.
"What is it?" Sheila reined up, alarmed.
"I forgot to tell Mr. Bosk something."
"Do you want to go back?"
Robby turned and looked back the way they had come, but Bosk Manor was now a league or more away.
"No," he said slowly. "I don't know how important it is, and it isn't part of my orders. So I think we should go on. And if I know Ullin, he's probably mentioned it in the dispatches I gave to Mr. Bosk."
They moved along, Sheila looking at Robby's concerned face. Catching her look, he said, "We had an incident of sorts in town last night." And he told her about the prowlers.
"Oh my stars! What do you think they were after?" she asked.
"I don't know. I wonder if they were after the strongbox? That makes the most sense, for they would have had to come up on us while we were asleep and capture us, so to speak, to make us tell them where the strongbox was and how to open it. Only that doesn't make any sense."
"Why not?"
"Because there isn't anything much to take besides store goods. Just a few old coins, you know, the one's Mrs. Starhart traded to us, and a bit of silver. Everyone knows we don't keep much coin. I'm sure Mr. Arkstan keeps more coin down at his tavern than we ever take in. And he does run a moneylending trade on the side."
"Well, what else would they be after?"
"I'm not sure. Mother says they were probably just travelers and rode off when I shouted at them. But, well, do you think someone may have heard about me? I mean, found out?"
"Do you mean Tulith Attis? That you rang the Bell?"
"Yes. Ashlord has been worried. I saw him just a few days ago. He was in town checking on how the militia was coming along. On his way from somewhere to somewhere, as he always is these days. He asked if I'd seen any strangers about. I told him, 'Well, of course I've seen strangers about. People are pouring in from all over for the upcoming festival.' He just shook his head as if I didn't understand his question and said, 'Not those kind of strangers. I mean those who by their dress or manner do not fit in with the others,' he said. And he said for me to be wary of foreigners."
"What did he mean by that?"
"I dunno. He must mean someone who would stand out from the crowd of strangers that are arriving. He hurried off before I could press him on it. And, last night, I didn't get a chance to talk with him at all. Only..."
"Only what?"
"Only, I think I've been seeing Certina about lately."
"That wouldn't surprise me at all," Sheila said sitting back in her saddle. "I'm sure she's keeping an eye on you for Ashlord."
"But how do they talk?"
"I don't know how it works," Sheila said. "I've seen Certina perch on his head and on his shoulder, and, one time I saw her perch on his nose! They do talk, of that I am convinced. Maybe not with words. And, if Ashlord wants to know about something, he's sure to find out. But back to those prowlers. Do you truly think they were sent by the traitor of Tulith Attis? Or by Secundur?"
Robby involuntarily shivered at the name, even though Sheila spoke it only softly, and with a cautious tone. It was not a name to invoke carelessly. He managed a brave, nonchalant shrug.
"No, I guess not. If they were, why would they give up so easily and run away? Not like those men we met on the road back from Tulith Attis that day. It's just that I don't know what the prowlers were after, and I keep going over every possibility. Maybe my mother was right, and they were just travelers. They did drop a scrap of paper in their haste to ride away. It had a list of towns and villages in the Eastlands. Anyway, I should have warned Mr. Bosk to be on the lookout for strange goings on."
They rode silently for a distance, enjoying the afternoon in spite of the unsettling topics. The day had turned cool and breezy, and Sheila pulled a cloak out of her bag and put it on. It was long and dark gray with black trim and a hood, clasped in the front with shiny brass buttons.
"You look very nice in that," Robby commented. "It looks vaguely familiar."
"Thank you, and it should look familiar. Your mother gave it to me just before I left to go to Boskland. She said she hadn't worn it for years and thought I would appreciate it. And I do!"
"I don't remember my mother wearing it, but I can't imagine she looked half so good in it."
Sheila smiled and blushed just a little, saying, "Don't be silly. I'll never be as pretty as Mirabella, or as genteel."
"My mother is striking, I admit. But you have qualities she never has had. Besides, I mistook you for a princess one night, not all that long ago."
"Oh, I'm sure you did!"
"Truly! I was walking home and passed by Passdale Green. I saw you there, but I did not recognize you until you turned to go."
"Passdale Green? Oh! You were there? And you did not make yourself known to me?" Sheila was clearly aghast, and Robby was suddenly nervous and embarrassed.
"I was afraid to," he admitted. "I was only passing by. I did not know it was you. When I realized it was you, I wanted to call out to you. But I was afraid to. I'm sorry."
"Why were you afraid?"
"Because," he muttered. "Because we had not been speaking very much, and you seemed to want it that way. And because, well, I guess I was just embarrassed. The truth is, I had never before seen you dressed so well, and maybe that's why I did not recognize you. I stopped to watch from the shadows of the trees alongside the path. I almost thought I was looking on a dream."
"You were," Sheila said, with no hint of anger in her tone. "I was dressed that way out of curiosity. Those were to be my festival clothes, and I could not wait to try them out. Your mother had them made especially for me. I had never worn anything so fine until that night. I mean, do you know those dresses and clothes I wore around the store? Those were the nicest clothes I ever wore until then. Just normal clothes, like everyone has. But I never had any before. With the money your father put aside for me, I bought some clothes for the first time in my life. Brand new clothes, too. And, for the first time ever, I started feeling like a normal girl, a normal woman. That night you saw me, when those special clothes arrived, Mirabella had me try them on, and afterwards I couldn't bring myself to take them off. I sat in front of the mirror in my room, brushing my hair and looking at myself, until I felt so happy that the walls of the room could not keep me any longer. So I ran outside and played in the starlight. I don't think I have ever been so happy in my life! Just to wear something truly fine!" She shrugged, "Then, just a week or so later, I was headed out to Boskland, dressed in man's clothing again, like my old self! So I suppose it was a dream that you were seeing that night. My dream."
Robby heard the wistfulness in her voice, and he regretted not having understood her sooner. He immediately felt he should have known, without having to be told outright, and he was embarrassed and disappointed at his own lack of perception.
"You may dress as a man, in man's clothing, Sheila," Robby said at last. "But you are a woman, no mistake, and a finer one than most who wear skirts or gowns all the time."
"You shower me with compliments, today."
"I guess I have some catching up to do," Robby chuckled, and he was gratified to see her smile back. "Do you remember
the last time we rode together, along this way?"
"How could I not remember? Those were eventful days."
"Yes. I suppose we were both in a lot of pain, in more ways than one. You especially. I'm sorry if I seemed thoughtless."
"You have nothing to be sorry about," Sheila responded. "I should have sent you word long before we met at Tulith Attis. I nearly did, too, on several occasions. Ashlord encouraged me to do so, in his odd way. But, as you know, I never did."
"May I ask why not?"
"Well, I told you before, some of the reasons. And I suppose part of me was in shock and part of me was in mourning, too. I was very angry—mostly at myself, I now realize—and I was ashamed, too."
"You have nothing to be ashamed of," Robby said.
They passed over a shallow stream and then back up hill along a shortcut between two terraced fields of grapes.
"Do you still feel the same and as strongly as you did that day?" he asked. "About marrying me?"
"Yes. I do," she answered.
"I see."
"And do you feel the same way as what you said to me that day?" she asked.
"Yes. I do. Perhaps more so."
"I have thought a great deal about what you said that day. And how you said it," Sheila ventured. "Can you recall the words you used?"
"The very words?"
"Yes."
Robby thought for a moment. He remembered what he said, but he had trouble with the words. When he tried to pronounce them, his tongue would not let them pass.
"I remember the words, yes," he said, somewhat flustered, letting Anerath come to a halt, "but I can't seem to make my mouth repeat them just now."
"I was bewildered by them, though I understood each word you said, and I felt in my heart the full passion and honesty of what you spoke, yet..." She shook her head.
"Yet, what?" Robby asked.
"And, yet, I had never heard the language you spoke, not ever in my life."
Robby had heard something like it. Though he could not now say the words in his mind, he did remember a very similar language, that of the two gentlewomen who sang to him when he was ill as a child. And the language that Thurdun muttered the night they met on the road. But those were languages of this world, known and spoken by many. What Sheila heard, and still echoed in Robby's soul was the language of...where? The heart? Robby shook his head. It was yet another mystery.
"I was, I admit, very, very stirred up that day. Perhaps your ears heard what they heard only because no one has ever spoken to you truly from the heart as I did."
She thought about that, about how it was often said that love has its own language, and for a moment she wondered seriously if that was it.
"No one ever has, that is true," she said, still thinking. "What I mean, though, is that the very words you spoke were in a tongue foreign to my ears. It was not in the Common Speech, nor was it the Ancient Tongue, some of which Ashlord has taught me. It was a different language, like the tinkling of glass wind chimes, all sharp and smooth at the same time, and like a soft breeze in my mind, or like clear, cool water in the thirsty land of my heart."
Robby thought that what she said made an odd kind of sense. Before he had time to respond, his eye caught something just ahead in the lower branches of a heavy oak.
"What's that?" he asked. As Sheila looked, the large dark shape, almost the color of the tree limb itself, emitted a thin cloud of smoke that drifted toward the riders.
"That's Westleaf if I ever smelled it," said Robby as he noticed the walking stick and small shoulder bag leaning against the broad trunk.
"Hullo!" called the shape in the tree.
"Ashlord!" Sheila cried out in surprise, nudging her horse closer. Robby followed, amused at the gentleman's resting place.
"Do you often roost in trees?" Robby asked, coming up alongside Sheila, nearly eye-level with the reclining Ashlord.
"When it suits," Ashlord smiled, removing his pipe from his mouth. "But only in oaks."
"What are you doing out here?" Sheila asked.
"Waiting for you two to come along," he answered. "I thought you would be passing this way, though I imagined you would be a bit earlier. I saw Mirabella and Ullin this afternoon, and they told me of Robby's errand."
"What is it that you wanted to see us about?" Robby asked. "Or is this a social visit? I hope you have been well?"
"Oh, yes! Well as ever, though busy, going there and here and over yon," Ashlord nodded as he slid off of the limb and lightly dropped to the ground. "You both look as well as can be, and are, I trust? Good. Good. Are you much recovered from last night's outing?"
"Yes, I slept late this morning," Robby said as Ashlord reached for his shoulder bag and his stick at the base of the tree. Robby noticed a movement in the bag before Flitter's head peeked out from under the flap, his large eyes blinking at the two riders before diving back into the bag. "What about that blinding light that you held up? It was incredible!"
"Neat trick, eh?" Ashlord cocked his brow and grinned. "A flare, as they are called in the west. One that I learned from the Flame Masters long ago. Comes in handy, though not as impressive as Mistletoe Fire."
"How was it done?"
"Oh, it involves a highly refined metal of a rare sort—magnium it is called—combined with specially prepared tinctures, along with the ground root of the argov plant, some sulfur, saltpeter, a bit of charcoal, and some wax. All prepared very carefully as a paste, somewhat like firesticks, and wrapped within a small tube of thick parchment. As you saw, very bright, and very hot. Can be quite dangerous."
Robby scratched his head and glanced at Sheila, almost sorry he had asked.
Ashlord's enthusiasm for his explanation faded as he saw that Robby did not follow it. A bit crestfallen, he said, "Some hold it to be magic—"
"Oh!" Robby perked up and smiled. "Magic!"
"—but it is not. Enough of that," Ashlord said, impatiently. "I wanted to speak to you two privately, and that is why I am here. By now, the Enemy must have had word of Tulith Attis. There are many people coming into the county, for the festival, and I believe there may be some of His agents amongst them."
"What makes you think that?" Robby asked.
"How do you know?" asked Sheila.
"Such questions! I am convinced by wind and water, root and rock, and by events near and far, as well as by other sources, nearer to hand. My word to you two is to be cautious of strangers. I know your penchant for striking up conversations with passersby," he said to Robby, apparently referring to Thurdun, "but watch what you say and do. These will not be Dragonkind, and they will not present you with a note saying, 'I am the enemy.' Their master must wonder if his identity has been discovered by he who rang the Great Bell, for the secret of Tulith Attis is linked to his own. And, as I have come to realize, the ringing would have been heard as an omen to many others, a warning that their power will soon be challenged, and their secrets discovered. They, too, besides the traitor of Tulith Attis, may strive to seek you out."
"What do you think they'll do?" Robby asked.
"They will first try to identify you. As bellringer of the Passdale Militia, they will be attracted to you first, if they hear of that. We must hold to our plan and make them think that ringing the militia bell is all that is in your power to do, so that they will dismiss you and look elsewhere. And I don't think they are apt to believe the one they seek is so young."
"What if they do find out it was Robby?" Sheila asked.
Ashlord looked at her sternly and then at Robby, saying to him, "They will kill you, eventually, after they have forced from you the names of all those who are involved with you and who may know or learn the great secret. Then they will do the same to them."
"But I don't know anything! I don't know who betrayed the fortress! I don't know any secrets!"
"And how do you think they will learn the truth of that? You will talk. And you will name names to put a swift end to your torment!"
Sheila stare
d at Ashlord, open-mouthed at his blunt words.
"Then I should leave!" declared Robby. "No one who knows me is safe!"
"That will not stop them. And leaving conspicuously may only give you away sooner rather than later by raising suspicions about you. The time may yet come for running away, but for now you must stay and do the best that you can. Remain among friends. Be discreet and watchful."
"What about the prowlers? There were prowlers about Robby's place last night."
"Yes, Ullin told me. Alas, I missed your father, who set out early to track them; I should have wanted to go along. However, there may or may not be a connection between the prowlers and those others whom I fear. Ullin said that you thought they wore red cloaks."
"Yes. I think so."
"Well, prowlers aren't likely to be brightly dressed, are they?" Ashlord pulled his hair back into a pony tail and lifted up his shoulder bag. "And those I warn about would not run away as they did. I must be getting back to Tulith Attis. I'll be there for a time, but you will see me again, soon, I hope. Make good time back to Passdale, and do not forget what I have said!"
"Good bye!"
"Good bye!"
Ashlord marched off as Sheila and Robby rode in the opposite direction.
"He never said what he's been doing, exactly," Sheila stated. Robby shrugged and twisted around to look back at Ashlord, his head and shoulders bobbing up and down as he receded along the far side of the hill. Just then, a little bird detached itself from the high branches of the tree and flew away toward Ashlord, darting down past his head and then off away into the sky.
"An odd fellow," Robby said, smiling at Ashlord's familiar, "with odd business, too, I suppose. But let's pick up the pace."
They galloped for a long stretch, and Robby could tell that Anerath was holding back so that Sheila's mount could easily keep up. He drew Anerath down to a quickstep and Sheila came up alongside.
"Let's not wear them too badly," Robby said to her as they further slowed to an easy walk. Anerath puffed out a light snort and tossed his head in agreement. Sheila's mount whinnied in response.
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