"If you mean one of the four sent to Tulith Attis after the storm passed, yes, I did."
"An' yer friend here," Makeig said, putting his hand on Robby's shoulder, "done got rid of the other one."
"So!" Ashlord looked at Robby's blood covered clothes. "Then the blood I see is that of the kidnapper who took Billy Bosk? Robby, are you hurt?"
"No, no, I'm fine. This is not my blood," Robby said. "Ashlord, I killed a man. It just happened."
Ashlord nodded sympathetically, seeing that Robby was trying to get a grip on his emotions.
"What is done is done," he said. "You are not the first to kill, nor was he the first to die this day."
"What about my mother and my dad? They tell me Barley and Passdale have been attacked by an army. What is happening there? Have you seen my parents? Is Sheila safe?"
Ashlord nodded again, then shook his head and held up his hand.
"Yes, yes, much has happened. Your mother is safe, I know. Sheila is safe, too. Your father I last saw early this morning. He may have been taken, or he may yet be free. I do not know."
"What? Captured? A prisoner?"
"Perhaps."
"I have to get to him!"
"No one can go near Passdale without being taken. I believe the soldiers are rounding up all the men they can find to form work parties. I have to trust that your father, if he did not escape, will be well-treated, or as well as a prisoner may be treated. His interests are in the preservation of the town and county, and I think that suits the purpose of the army, too, for the time being at least. If he is a prisoner, I don't think they will harm him as I trust they will see the value in keeping him well. However, let us hope that he got away to the northeast to warn Glareth."
"But, why? Why are we being attacked? Who are they, these Redvests?"
"Afore ye get into all the explainin'," Makeig interrupted, "I'm thinkin' the two of ye should come to our nearby camp. I'm thinkin' some food an' some cleanin' up for Robby wouldn't go amiss. I'm thinkin', too, I'd like to get out of this stinkin' hole."
Ashlord and Robby looked at each other, and Ashlord nodded.
"The west way is best for us," he said to Robby.
"Good!" Makeig said, mounting up. "Then take a horse apiece an' come along. It ain't far, an' I fancy we'll just make it afore dark."
"Before we do, I should like to take a look at your late adversary," Ashlord said, striding into the room before Makeig could protest.
"Ye'll not find much!" he called after him. "Well, be quick, then!"
Robby handed the reins of his horse to a nearby fellow, and, following with hurried footsteps, caught up with Ashlord. The smell was even more sickening than before, with Bailorg's body smoldering in the fire, adding to the previous stench.
"Do you know his name?" Ashlord asked, looking about as he approached the fireplace.
"He was called Bailorg."
"Bailorg? I have heard of him."
"Look here," Robby said, pointing down to a line of ash-like dust on the floor. "Bailorg had a Swyncraff, almost like mine. He used it to bind Billy and later attacked Captain Makeig with it. When I killed Bailorg, it turned to dust. See?"
Ashlord bent over and picked up some of the dust, rubbing it between his fingers, then held it to his nose to smell.
"It was not like yours," he said, standing up and still smelling the dust. "But very similar, no doubt. This is not the dust of tree, but that of scales and bone, a snake, I think. Swyncraff is made of Shadowbane, I think. A tree not seen for ages. It is said the leaves of that tree glowed so brightly that even in the full sun, it had no shadow."
Ashlord's voice trailed off, then he abruptly turned and walked briskly toward the huge hearth with Robby following.
"What kind of place is this, Ashlord?"
"It is an ancient troll house," he said, bending over Stingorn and turning him over. He went through his pockets, and, finding nothing of interest, Ashlord pulled off Stingorn's coat and shirt and turned the dead man over to examine his back. "Who is this person?"
"One of the festival folk. A huckster. That fellow over there, Bailorg, murdered him. And he would have murdered Billy, too, I'm sure of it. He killed Steggan, Sheila's uncle. He said so. What are you looking for?" asked Robby. Ashlord made no reply as he went over to the fire and leaned as close as he dared. Bailorg's booted feet were splayed out before the fireplace, and the fire had already consumed most of his clothes and was working its way down his leggings. Ashlord saw a nearby bucket of water and suddenly handed Robby his walking stick.
"Hold out your other arm," he said. When Robby did so, Ashlord poured water over Robby's hand and sleeve and rubbed away some of the blood. "That'll have to do until you can wash properly. Now step back."
Ashlord grabbed Bailorg's boots and dragged him out of the fire onto the floor, his burning body sending up plumes of nauseating smoke. Makeig, looking in from the doorway, scrunched up his face.
"Oh, gar!" one of his men said, matching Makeig's expression. Robby held his hand over his mouth and nose. To make matters worse, Ashlord took the bucket of water and dowsed the body, creating even more clouds of steam and smoke. Ashlord bent close to the wretch and examined him in every detail, especially the now-hideous face. He pulled at bits of unburnt clothing, buckles and even examined Bailorg's boots. To Robby's horror, Ashlord then turned Bailorg over, and, with a poker, pulled away the charred bits of cloak and clothing.
"Look here," Ashlord commanded. Robby, still holding his hand over his nose, edged closer until he stood beside Ashlord.
"What?"
"Just there," Ashlord pointed to Bailorg's back, charred and steaming and blistered. Robby saw two thin reddish-black lines, each running down from Bailorg's shoulders and disappearing under his breeches.
"Scars of the Elifaen!" uttered one of Makeig's men who, out of curiosity, had approached and was now backing away. Robby looked at Ashlord who nodded.
"Our enemies are of all races, it seems," he whispered to Robby as he picked up a firebrand. While Robby watched, Ashlord walked around the room, paying careful attention to a table where there were cups, plates, bits of food, and a lamp, which Ashlord now lit, tossing away the brand. He found a leather case and went through its contents, paper parchment, mostly, and other writing tools. This he slung over his shoulder by its strap as the floor rumbled and dust fell from the roof.
Ashlord sniffed, glancing around.
"Was there a bird, here?"
"Yes. Earlier. It flew off. What is this place?" Robby asked again, alarmed.
"It is a troll house," Ashlord repeated, still busy looking over the items around the room. "Have you not noticed the unusual proportions of the tables and chairs? It is told that once a fierce Troll Lord lived here and is still held captive somewhere in deep chambers far below, and that these rumblings are his labors to escape." He glanced at Robby, to see how he took this. Robby was looking around cautiously. "Others say the rumblings are only the ground shifting beneath this ridge. I don't think there is much left for me to see. I'll take these few things and examine them in better light."
Ashlord shuffled through a few of Bailorg's belongings on the table, some books and writing tools. He picked up the purse and opened it, and removed a large silver coin.
"Very old Vanaran coins," Ashlord said, holding up the coin to the light. "From the First Age, I think."
Robby nodded, seeing the small stone set into the middle of the coin.
"What should we do with the bodies?" he asked.
"Leave them. No time to bury them. The wild animals will find them soon enough. Now let us be gone from here!"
• • •
Robby and Ashlord rode in the middle of the group, and when they emerged into the light, they all blinked and squinted until they could see properly. The sun was low over the mountains, bathing the forested hills in bright yellow light. The west side of the ridge was more densely wooded, and the way was sharp with steep climbs and descents, sometimes forci
ng them to dismount and lead their horses along very rough and rocky paths. Robby managed to keep alongside Ashlord so that they could speak.
"I have so much to ask you about that I hardly know where to begin," Robby said as quietly as possible so that as few of the riders around could hear.
"I think Makeig will have many questions, too," Ashlord said, nodding ahead at the leader. "And I anticipate needing to tell more of the happenings in Barley soon, and you will hear more about that then. But tell me, does anyone here know about your doings at Tulith Attis?"
"I don't think so," Robby said. "I'm not sure. Bailorg seemed only to confide in the Conundrum Box man, Stingorn I think his name was. And he killed him. I saw him do it. I don't think the others here caught on to what Bailorg and I said to each other while we fought. But Bailorg guessed right away that it was me at Tulith Attis."
"It is good that none here knows."
"About that place back there, the troll house, I mean. Why did Bailorg take up there? I heard him tell Billy that he was a Watcher, like you, and that he and his master have also been watching for a long time."
"Yes, I suspected as much, but I had no idea that he was so near," Ashlord acknowledged. "Though many times I sought him out before you and I met. After your return to Passdale, I sought for him even harder. But he was cunning, and I was misled by false signs, I'm afraid."
"So he was a Watcher, like you? A Melnari?"
Ashlord shot a stern look at Robby.
"I wonder how you came to know the name of my kind?" Ashlord said.
"Thurdun told me," Robby said defensively. "Is it wrong to know?"
"No, no, not wrong, just unusual," Ashlord explained. "Bailorg was not of my kind, but an Elifaen of the ancient days. I could tell from his clothes and scars. That and the fact that he had what you called a Swyncraff. You should know that what you have about your waist is named Swyncraff, just as a person has a name. Each is unique and has its own name. They only respond to those to whom they are given. All this tells me that Bailorg was a powerful agent, indeed. With a powerful benefactor. Yes, he was a watcher, of sorts, certainly, but not the same as I. His clues and guidance came from someone else, and Bailorg could only watch for what he was told to find. However, I do not think Bailorg has been here very long, perhaps only for a year or so. And I wonder how much he was told by his master concerning your coming?"
"His master? My coming? What do you mean?"
"What I mean is there were signs that something would happen at Tulith Attis. That is why I took up my abode there. I interpreted the signs one way; the enemy interpreted them another. Watching does not mean seeing, though, and seeing does not mean understanding. I did not expect anyone to ring the Bell, though now I see clearly that I should have expected that. I thought my presence there would flush out the traitor's agents, fearing I would discover his identity. But it was you who stirred Bailorg to action, not I. I and my kind watch for those things that tell us what to watch for, signs and movements. Wind. Water. Rock. Sky and stars. Whisperings and grumblings both of the earth and of the creatures that live upon it, especially Elifaen and Men. But my time of watching seems to be coming to an end."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, Robby Ribbon, that watching is no longer enough. There are other things that need doing."
"Like what?"
Ashlord looked at Robby with a smile.
"I cannot tell you until I know myself. There are still many questions, many mysteries. I will have some answers very soon, I hope. Tell me, did Bailorg mention anyone? The name of his master?"
"No."
"Too bad. So the traitor's secret is still kept. Forces are moving, it is clear. The attack on Barley is a small consequence of greater designs," he said. "Perhaps we can speak more of this later. Right now we must see that we do not fall behind."
"Greater designs?"
Ashlord nudged his mount on ahead of Robby just as the line of men and horses passed through a narrow gap where a huge rock had split asunder ages ago. The path cut back and forth between these natural columns and then for a long while afterwards they continued up and down and sideways along the ridges as they progressed north and westward. At last the way smoothed somewhat as it also leveled across old stands of pine and fir, and Ashlord was able to ride alongside Makeig.
"As you might guess, I am wondering how you came to fall in with Bailorg," Ashlord ventured.
"Oh, well, Bailorg happened along the first time 'bout a year or so back. Well, back in the late winter, I reckon. We waylaid him on the road down toward Tallinvale way, took a pretty penny an' sent the feller on. Toward early spring, he comes back with four other fellers, bodyguards we reckoned at first, low, dirty-lookin' men with the look of mercenaries about them. Anyhow, they rode brazen among us, right past our posts an' guards—never figured out how, though it caused a big stir I can tell ye. He told us he wanted to hire as many men who'd ride for him, runnin' errands to Barley an' the like. Said he'd have a big job later on, in the way of hirin' safe escort through the mountains, through Damar country, an' on out onto the plains beyond. Bailorg promised sixteen pieces of fine new Duinnor gold for each of twenty men, full weights, too, sayin' there'd be forty times more when the job was done."
The riders negotiated a steep incline downward through a thick copse, and when they'd cleared it, Makeig continued, sometimes speaking over his shoulder at Ashlord.
"Do you know who Bailorg's master is?"
"Oh, no. Though I pressed him on it a few times," answered Makeig. "But I gleaned enough to know that his boss is someone not to be trifled with, someone very powerful out west, in Duinnor Realm, I think. Or, if not in Duinnor, somewheres out west."
"Hm. I see. So Bailorg hired you, you were saying."
"That's right. Anyhow, so we were skeptical of the whole thing. Leastwise, I was, an' so were some of the men, havin' been duped before, if ye take me meanin'. Some of me men figured that if the feller had the gold, we may as well take it, an' they said so, straight to his face. Bailorg only laughed an' said that the gold was to be paid by the purchaser of certain goods we were to deliver in good condition. Wouldn't say what those goods were to be, though now I reckon we all know." Makeig nodded back at Robby. "Course we had no idea it was all for some kidnappin'. Not that we have anything against that line of work, mind ye, 'cept there's a right way an' a wrong way to go about it, an' this feller Bailorg seemed a bit of the kind to lay a loo'ard tack when the shallows are rocky an' lead an' line are stowed."
"I don't follow you."
"I mean to say, he seemed the type to take too many chances. Anyhow, we wound up agreein', I'm ashamed to say, figurin' we'd put that gold in our community chest an' maybe trade it out with Furaman later on. So he went away, an' we didn't see much of him, 'cept once headin' to Janhaven an' another time back from Tallinvale. Suddenly he shows up again sometime shortly after Midsummer wantin' us to raid the Post Station in Janhaven. Said if we'd do the handiwork, all he'd want as his cut was the papers to be had there. Letters an' logbooks an' such. It was an outrageous scheme, an' we fairly laughed him out of town. So he goes away again, with our previous agreement still standin'."
"All he wanted were letters?" Ashlord asked.
"Well, that's what he said. We didn't see him again 'til when the Great Storm came, along with them three great peals of thunder that sure gave these mountains a run for their name. The day the rain let up, he was spotted by one of our scouts, tearin' down the South Road to Tallinvale. 'Bout three or four days later, Bailorg shows up all hot an' aside of hisself, like, wantin' to know what happened to his men, his company of hired men, them four fellers what came with him before. At first he accused us of doin' away with 'em, but we assured him he was haulin' on the wrong line, though we couldn't care one way or the other what became of 'em. Well, it turned out that Bailorg sent 'em on some sort of errand off Barley-way, an' he wanted us to send out after 'em to see where they went, to look around, all private-like."
&n
bsp; From his position near to Ashlord, and due to Makeig's husky voice, Robby could follow the tale as they rode along. As he listened, he got a whiff of smoke and as they topped a rise, Makeig waved off a guard that stood out from some rocks. When they rode around the crest, Robby could see smoke filtering up through the trees below and ahead of them.
"Well, as much out of curiosity as for the silver he offered, we sent a few fellers over that way, young Winterford amongst 'em, to see what they could see. 'Course they got wind pretty quick 'bout the so-called raid on Boskland, an' 'bout the fight on the old Line Road, an' the Dragonkind-man, all before they even reached the river near Buckman's Ferry. There Winterford an' the others fell in with some Barley people that work for Furaman an' so they crossed on over with 'em—it was easy since the river's done got so low—an' they rode out to take a look at the gate at Bosk Hall to see for their own selves. Up 'til then, we had no idear one of them fellers was a Dragonkind, so covered up with helmets an' hoods they always were. Anyhow, not long after Winterford an' the others got back from their foray, Bailorg shows up again wantin' to know what was learned. We put to him the question of them fellers pretty sternly, of how he came by them an' all, particularly a Dragonkind, an' what his errands were about. We were pretty mad at hearin' what they'd done over at Boskland, the killin' an' lootin' an' all, an' at what he may have gotten us mixed up in. Last thing we needed was some feud, an' particularly with Bosklanders, who we had some good dealin's with, though they didn't know we was outlaws. Bailorg claimed he was ill-used by them men, who took his coin an' struck off on some fool jaunt of their own with little mind to him or his business. That's our camp up just yonder. So, anyhow, he pleaded with us to lend him some men for runnin' errands an' such since his own had run off an' been killed, deservedly so, he was sure to add, an' he said again the big job was still on. An' that's pretty much how it's been since then. He holed up in that troll cave, an' ever once in a while we'd ride out on some errand or other to Barley or over to Janhaven or such. Awhile back, he took up with one of them travelin' pitchmen who sold jewelry an' the like, but who mostly cheated folk out of their silver. Stingorn was his name, an' never was a cheater like him, what with his confounded Conundrum Box. Anyhow, I reckon he got more than what was comin' to him. Bailorg sent word for us to come meet with him an' that's how we ran into young Robby, there."
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