by Andre Norton
In that dark blot yonder man had set no bonds—though bonds might have been set—against invaders. Twilla could not measure the height of the trees crowding into that dark mass, but she guessed that they must indeed be tall—large enough to awe an easterner. Yes, in the shadows of such, any nervous invader might well see demons.
Rutha seemed to pick up her thought—"Demon land,” she said. “It has an uncanny look to it anyway—such put stories into the minds of the unknowing.”
“Hullooo!” The ringing call from ahead brought the wagon to a halt and those tramping by it to attention.
From below, cutting between them and their sight of the last wagon ahead, came a small mounted troop. These reined to a halt a goodly space away, save for one man who approached them with an air of caution.
“You there!” he raised his voice in sharp command as he drew near, swinging from the saddle but still remaining by his mount. “Stand forth—They say you carry plague!”
Meekly Twilla, Rutha, and Leela who had been on the tramp, drew themselves into a line to be joined by Askla, Jass, and Hadee from the wagon. Tathan passed the reins of the team to Iyt and joined them.
Still leading his horse as if he needed to know that was at hand and he might mount in a second and be away from them, the man came forward. He was wearing mixed-dress Twilla noted, as if he were half townsman, half guard.
Of middle years, his face was as browned as that of a soldier and he had keen eyes which he swept along the line of waiting girls and warwomen.
“All of you here?” he demanded.
“All,” Tathan answered stolidly. “Six king's maids, two of the troops—so we set out of Varvad and so we still be.”
But his attention had already centered on Twilla and held.
“That one—” He jerked his thumb toward the girl but took no step closer. “She bears plague marks—”
“She heals,” Tathan answered with a note of defense as if some skill of her own was in question. “She be a healer and was able to doctor herself—also us lest the plague spread. We are here and she is walking as stout as any landdaughter—as you can see. Her looks may be spoiled but she has talent—”
Twilla was surprised at Tathan’s words. She had not expected backing from the warwoman, and yet it would seem that their guard was striving to make some point in her charge’s favor.
“Healer.” The man repeated that with something like a snort. “She is a king's maid as the rest. Our Lord does not hold with such, as well you know.”
“Mine was not the selection, Learned One,” Tathan returned. “I am a guard only but what I say is the truth. She healed herself and we stand here now with no plague marks on us.”
“Nonetheless, you will keep your distance, not entering the High Keep but camping where you are shown, until we have our Lord's word on the matter.”
Now he did mount and on horseback made a sudden turn and rode straight for Twilla, Leela having to scramble swiftly out of way as he came up beside the girl. Using his riding whip he caught at and flicked away her cape hood, staring down at her with eyes which were narrowed and searching.
“Marked you are—” he commented. “But you have healed. Well, I do not envy your bridegroom.”
With that he wheeled his horse again and rode on, the rest of the squad falling in behind him. While they were kept to the slower pace of the wagon. And it was well into dusk before they reached that level land, which had been in their sight for most of the afternoon.
The sun was still far enough up for Twilla to sight that dark dot which spiraled upward from the looming shadow of the wood fringe to the north. She lost sight of it as it climbed. Then she became aware of a wind-skimming, wide-winged bird which dropped from out of the sky to hang over the wagon as it trundled along.
By its spread of wing she judged it to be larger than any bird she had seen overmountain—and it seemed able to glide with few beats of wings, keeping at the same distance above them. That this was what she had seen rise from the ill-omened wood she was oddly sure. There were stories in Hulde’s books about ancient powers which could harness the animals of the field, the birds of the air, to their service. It would seem that now they might be spied upon. But she said nothing, drew no attention of the other to that airborne company.
All she had been able to gather of rumor and report was that those who kept away from the forest had not been troubled by any attack, and the road they were following now curbed well to the south of that blot. Yet, as twilight grew and they traced the guiding wagons ahead by the lanterns, each bobbing from their high poles, this cruiser of the winds did not leave them.
Now they could see ahead the outline of buildings with lights here and there. And the first wagons of the caravan were very near the gates. Their own passage was so slowed by the orders to keep well to the rear that, when darkness fell, they could only see the few winks of lantern light pass through a strong stockade.
Once more a rider came pounding back toward them and with a circle of arm and a shouted order sent their wagon from the road, bumping across the open land until it finally came to a halt under those walls but not within them.
Just as they had through all the weeks on the trail Tathan and Iyt set about loosing the beasts to graze and ordering a camp to be set. Rutha sighted the pile of supplies which had been left as usual and these they brought into a fire, which here was set in the encirclement of a brazier as large as a full washing bowl, fueled with lumps of thick black stuff new to the girls.
It smoked and smelt and was far inferior to the wood they had used during the journey. Twilla, coughing as a sudden puff of air brought that smoke to her, could begin to understand why the plains settlers would want to glean in the forest.
It was too dark now to sight the bird above. But there would be the beginning of the new moon tonight. She dared not try to strengthen her spell by it—the waning was what she needed. But when they settled on the pallets in the wagon her hands were curved about the mirror tightly. And it seemed to her that there was an odd warmth from it, even when she lifted it away from close contact with her flesh, also as if it caused some friction, except there was no movement, save that which followed her own.
Had she been irresponsible, foolish in believing that she could escape the net set for her? She stared down into the mirror surface, dark to her sight, and thought of Hulde. She herself knew so very little—some of a healer’s skills, yes, but little enough of the powers she was sure the Wisewoman had easily dealt with. It only remained that she was waiting upon time and would see what would come. And that aroused an impatience which ate at her.
Would her play with the plague be enough to make an impression on the Lord Harmond so he would see she had a different value for him and his people? She could only hope.
The sound of a horn aroused them to crawl out of the wagon in the dawnlight. They could see more of the Keeptown now. Unlike the cities of Varslaad there was no stone wall here. Rather blocks of what looked like packed earth, which had been set in place and then perhaps fired into a solid mass reaching well above the top of the wagon.
Nearby, the gate showed a ponderous expanse of heavy wood, barred and thickly reinforced with metal. While above the top of the wall showed one square tower, which was at least three stories high, as well as the roofs of other buildings.
The gates swung open and a party from the town, both mounted and on foot came toward them. As had been at the meeting in the mountains they stopped several lengths away allowing only one of their company to advance.
Twilla tensed. A healer of some sort she had expected but not one of the long discredited priests of Dandus! How such a one had found his way into this new territory was a mystery—unless the strange ills , seeming to spread from the forest, must have induced some stupid councilor that they must have here one of the Twilight learning.
Hulde's kind were a kin to the earth and its bounty, striving ever to tie their patients to the aid of nature. The Dandus priests believed t
hat mankind were greater than nature and need make no concessions to any other form of life. They were very few now, mostly stationed in a single shrine in the capital, and they recruited their order—at long intervals—from only the noble born.
This man now stalking toward them was as far from the beliefs by which she lived as the earth itself was from the sun now rising. If Lord Harmond favored the Dandus followers there was indeed no chance that he would listen to one with the wise talents.
“Where is this plague bearer?” he snapped almost before he reached them. His rust-red short robe was like the blot of a fast drying bloodstain.
“Here—you—” Tathan turned swiftly and caught at Twilla before the girl, still staring at the priest, could move. The warwoman pulled down her hood with her other hand, exposing Twilla's head to the full light.
What did he know? Had the followers of Dandus also powers which Hulde did not? Could he sense what she carried, sniff out mage too?
He was directly before her now. A gloved hand shot out, caught her chin in a painful grip, turning her head first right and then left. Dropping his hold, “Let me look upon the others.”
Tathan had them already lined up and he went down that line making each girl uncover and looking at her intently, staring into eyes, even pinching cheeks. At Hadee he stopped short.
“What manner of female have we here, warwoman?” he asked sharply. “Why does she come shorn like a lop-ear ready for the butcher's knife?”
“She was maid to one of the Doom Sayers from overseas,” Tathan replied. “They named her daughter of sin when her master was taken for his treason talk—so they served her before the maid squad took her.”
The Dandus priest grimaced. “You, outlander,” he nearly spat the words into Hadee's face, “know that we do not listen to such ravings as your people use to pollute the minds of sensible men. You will forget what you have been taught, or your man will take a rod to your back, with the full approval of our Lord, who does not take kindly to females who do not know their proper place.”
He turned away from the line of girls and once more approached Twilla. “And you—they prate of your skill saving your own life and warding these. There are no healers here save those signed to Dandus. Think on that and make it plain in your mind. You will be as any other king's maid, fully subject to the man unlucky enough to win you—with a face such as that you show to the world there will not be any welcoming mate here—though mate you will!”
He turned away from her and for the first time since he had arrived Twilla allowed herself a deep breath. She had expected to be recognized, for a dabbler in power, to be denounced. Yet that had not happened and somehow she believed that she had passed some stout test successfully.
Once more within the wagon they now passed through the gates and down the packed earth of a street, until they pulled up before one of the buildings close to the tower of the center keep, where they were ordered with their small bundles of belongings into the company of the other girls who had traveled with the caravan and who had already settled in.
At least they were well fed—there were fresh vegetables, meat, some fruit—that new to them. There was a bathing place where they were able at last to get all the dust from their bodies and hair. Twilla kept to herself and the others again edged away from her as if some ill fortune might rub from her to them. Thus she was able to conceal the mirror. When their trail worn clothing was taken from them she hid it under a towel. Then she slipped its cord quickly over her head as she pulled on what was provided. There was a chemise of a coarse yellow-white material and over that a full-skirted dress with a laced bodice. All their new issue was alike—of a dark brown shade not unlike the color of the dusty road they had followed for so long.
Apparently there was to be no chance for any girl to enhance what looks she had. So clad Askla suffered as did Hadee, Jass took on the likeness of one of those small city birds that nested in house eaves. Only Rutha and Leela were eye-catching as their height and general assured carriage made them noticeable. Hadee presented as nearly a hopeless sight as Twilla was sure she did.
For three days they were so pent, and small quarrels among them, harsh words and sneers were common as they mingled with those who had arrived before them. It was, Twilla understood, largely because fear of the unknown rode them. No one explained more of the coming procedure than they had picked up from the talk of the caravan and none of them looked forward to wedding a man of whom they knew nothing and living tied to this unknown and ill-omened land.
On the morning of the fourth day Tathan and three others of her service descended upon them. They were allowed to take their bundles, but they were lined up and marched two-by-two out for the first time outside.
There were those gathered to see them as they went. Remarks were made, a few in that line were greeted with whistles and others brought boos. Twilla specially heard remarks strong enough to bring the red of fever back into her cheeks had she not known what she was doing and held to it.
Her hope of consideration as a healer had been quenched by the Dandus priest. But if the man who got her by lot was enough turned away by her face she still had a small hope of perhaps a respite until she could somehow win her freedom. It was a very poor and slender hope, but it was all she had to cling to now.
There had been a platform arranged before the Keep wall and in that a chair, which had some pretense of being one of state, sat a man in half armor with a noble's brilliant cloak swept back from his shoulders.
He was of early middle age and had the weathered face of one often afield, in contrast to the few city nobles Twilla had seen. There was about him now a certain air of impatience as if he wished the matter which he was to supervise over so that he could be about some more important business.
He was flanked by two officers, and a stout man wearing such a robe as a prosperous merchant of Varvad might own.
Before them, on a tripod, was a bowl of metal. While the space about the platform was crowded—though mainly with men—Twilla caught sight of a few women on the outer edges of the throng. Nearly all wore the drab clothing of the landtied.
The girls were now herded into a single line and by some chance Twilla was at the end of that. Whether that was a good omen or not she could not tell.
5
THERE WAS SOMETHING shaming in this whole procedure—as if they were female beasts being put up to auction in a marketplace. Was this done deliberately, Twilla wondered—meant to enforce upon any rebel among the brides that her wishes or needs were nothing at all—only the fact that she was a female so able in some strange way to protect one of the men waiting impatiently here from whatever ill fate might reach out from that north lying wood to attack.
There appeared to be a delay of some sort. She saw Lord Harmond shift in his seat, the beginning of a scowl drawing his heavy brows together. Meanwhile, the undertone of mutters and murmurs from the waiting crowd were growing into fragments of impatient speech. Someone, Twilla gathered from the few words she caught, was still missing from the assembly.
Lord Harmond turned his head a fraction, and the officer on his right instantly leaned down to capture what his commander was saying. He saluted and turned to the stairs on the opposite side of the platform. However, before he had descended those a young man pushed through the crowd who gave way hurriedly to allow him passage. He, too, showed a stormy face but he stationed himself at the very fore of the assembly and stood like one preparing for a bared steel encounter. It was very plain that he was not there by any choice of his own.
Lord Harmond stared bleakly down at him with one of those looks so well used by superiors to subdue those beneath, and then he snapped his fingers and the war-women at the head of the straggling line of girls set hand on the arm of the first of the “brides” and pushed her up the three steps of the platform.
She was one Twilla did not know. As Jass she was small and thin and the bundle she clung to with both hands was wrapped in an old patched piece of quilt.
Another perhaps from one of the community of displaced farmers.
At a sharp gesture from Lord Harmond she turned to face the crowd below. Her eyes were not for them but on the ground, and there was the stain of shame on her cheeks.
Lord Harmond leaned forward now, inserted his hand into the bowl and brought out a finger-long strip of what looked like coarse leaf-paper.
“Carterer Ewon of Twin Streams—”
He read that aloud. The crowd had already fallen silent so the name echoed out over the marketplace.
“Here, Lord—” A man of middle years pushed through the massed men to come to the steps on the other side. He climbed them, shedding his cap on the way, bowed low to Lord Harmond and then in a stride was at the side of the shrinking girl, catching at her arm and turning her around so that together they faced the King's viceroy.
“Bear witness,” Lord Harmond was very evidently repeating a formula he had uttered many times over, “that Carterer Ewon takes as his bride, by the grace of our lord, the King, this maid and let no gainsay their bonding.”
Ewon made a clumsy bow, and his grasp on the girl brought her ahead of him as he urged her toward the stairs up which he had come. While the warwoman on the other side was already sending up the second victim.
So it went. There was no consenting on the part of the maids and apparently the men were used to abiding by the chance of the name pulling. Sometimes the matching was a grotesque combination, sometimes it was youth with youth.
When her own small circle of trail comrades came to be so disposed of Twilla paid even closer attention.
