by Andre Norton
Down in the plains once more, Tharna cantered briskly along the river’s edge. *I know all the places to hide once we reach our lands. If only you can persuade that horse to cooperate.*
She regarded the pony with scorn, and Eleeri grinned. The mare despised the sturdy little dun as a mere copy of a Keplian. She would never have wounded her friend’s feelings by the obvious retort.
Two days later, they were drifting unobtrusively around the fringes of Keplian country. Twice Tharna wandered toward another mare and exchanged gossip. Self-centered as their race was, none remembered that she had fled under strange circumstances almost a year ago. As long as she remained out of sight of any of the stallions, they were safe. After several days of this, Eleeri was well bored.
“What have you learned so far?”
*That nothing changes.*
“Very helpful. When do we do something about it?”
The mare eyed her friend with amusement. She had seen the growing boredom and expected a demand for action would come shortly. She could provide that to some extent and proceeded to explain. Eleeri was slightly surprised.
“You mean she’ll come with us just like that?”
Tharna’s shoulder twitched. *Not so casually as you make it sound, kin-sister. But she will come. For her there is no choice unless she wishes to see her foal killed at birth. Her herd lives close to the old Dark Tower. The stallion lord was recently slain by a rival, who has taken the herd as his own.*
Eleeri nodded. “So according to stallion habit, he’ll kill any nursing or newborn foals not his own.”
Her friend sent sadness. *That he has already done. Only this young mare remains. She bred late and will not bear her foal for another month.*
“So she’ll come with us to give her baby a chance.”
*More than that. She fears if the stallion attacks her newborn, she may not be able to prevent herself from attempting to protect it. A stallion is likely to kill her, too, for that.*
For the remainder of the week, Tharna slipped out to speak with the distracted young mare. Choosing a time when the stallion was in a different part of his territory, the three trotted quietly for the river.
With the new addition safe in the canyon, the two comrades returned to Keplian lands. Over the course of a spring they added another young mare and two orphaned foals to their family. Eleeri surveyed the results with satisfaction. Three adult mares, three yearlings, and three foals. A nice balance of ages so far, yet still Hylan was the only male.
In fact, the girl had come to believe two ideas. One was that only a male foal raised with love from the very beginning would fit into canyon ways. The other was that with the way that stallions killed even tiny colts, Terlor had been something of a fluke.
Orphaned foals were simply left to stray or starve. Many fell to the teeth of the Gray Ones, others to the irritation of stallions. Life was difficult enough for a mare; few would accept a strange foal and risk shorting their own foal’s nourishment. Yet Eleeri believed most of that was learned. In an atmosphere of peace and plenty, attitudes could change in a bare generation.
Summer followed, harsher than usual down on the plains, but in the canyon, water flowed and grass grew thick and green. Tharna and Eleeri spent a lot of their time now shadowing Keplian herds, watching and listening. Twice they managed to save orphaned foals and return with them. The girl had even made a short trip down through the lands to the southwest. There she had successfully bargained for several nanny-goats and a male. The milk might not be exactly what they were used to, but the starving foals would drink it.
By the time winter came, they were twice the number spring had counted. Still three adults, and three more than yearlings now. But the babies had increased to a dozen. At that point Eleeri had called a halt and taken the mare aside.
“Before we accept others, we need to look at what we have. How many of us can the canyon support? Even with no outside addition, we are going to start growing as soon as Hylan is old enough to be accepted as a stallion by some of the mares here. Once that starts happening, our numbers will go up like a startled hill hen.”
*Before that time we may have found other solutions. I have found a strange thing, kin-sister.* Eleeri waited. *At first I had great difficulty passing the runes. Now I pass freely. Our friends, too, had to link somewhat with you before they were permitted to enter. Now the mares pass as freely as I do.* She paused, then her sending became diffident. *Could it be that the power here now measures us as of the Light?*
Her eyes were hopeful on the girl who stood there. Eleeri could not answer. She, too, had noticed this thing happening and wondered. But she would raise no hopes.
“I can’t say. I’ve tried to ask the pendant, but no luck.”
The discussion turned back to herd size, but there was a sad look in the mare’s eyes. Later that night, Tharna drifted silently down to where the silver mist sparkled and coiled. What was behind it? What did it hold? She had no way of knowing, but it drew her. Somehow she desired to be part of it, accepted as one of the Light. She had never known when this desire had begun, only that it had been part of her as long as she could remember—as long as she had the hope that there was another way of life for her kind.
She blew softly through wide nostrils. That change she had seen here; if she lived long enough, she might see the other. Her mind yearned as the mist wreathed her gently. Had there been any there to see, they might have thought it a trick of the moonlight, as for a fraction of a second her eyes appeared to glow a soft gentle blue. Then the mist folded back into itself and there was only a fire-eyed Keplian mare standing quietly, moonlight silvering her hide.
8
Winter came slowly that year. The snows held off, the air remained warmer, and the land gave of berries, nuts, and fruit as never before. It all made Eleeri very suspicious. The wisdom of the Nemunuh said that a time like this was Earth Mother’s warning: times ahead would be hard. Store food, eat well, and prepare. She did so, gathering everything she could in the large woven baskets Far Traveler had taught her to make. Dried meat she stored in one of the rooms above the great hall.
But if times were to be cold as well, perhaps she should think of more bedding. She had more hides than she needed; those could be traded for woven stuffs at the same village as where she traded for the goats.
Tharna was reluctant. *The way is far, the road dangerous.*
Eleeri laughed. “Both true, but when the land warns, the wise warrior listens. Come part of the way with me; Hylan, too, if he wishes.”
There was an eager whicker from the young stallion, and the friends shared amusement. The girl stood, stretching slowly, enjoying the pull of fit muscles. It was a strange life, this one she lived, but it contented her. She had friends who were as family, a kin-sister and kin-son, a strong roof, and ample food. The water was clean, the air clear, and the hunting good.
A shadow swept across her face then. Who was she trying to persuade? She loved the life, the Keplians, but she missed human companionship. No, let her be truthful in this, since it was only to herself she spoke. Years were passing. She was almost twenty; her heart cried for a mate. She watched the Keplian mares with their foals, the pride of Hylan and his gentleness. Her body hungered, but not for food. She silenced it. What would be, would be. She must live with contentment if other joys were not granted. But there were humans she could visit.
She remembered her first trip to the lake keep, two days’ ride down the stream and along the lakeshore. Originally, many long generations ago, it had been lovingly built. Then it was abandoned during the adept wars. Later, those who lived there now had given it new life.
She chose gifts to take. The first time she was sure she had been closely watched, but neither lord nor lady had appeared. Instead she had been offered shelter in the same stable as her pony. No one had challenged her. But she was eyed warily all the same.
Another trip would be fun. The village about the main tower was small: just a well-fortified
keep, central tower, inner courtyard, and a circle of cottages about it. In all, not more than forty people. The lord, his kin, and the three families who served him directly, along with armsmen, lived in the central keep. Cottages served for those who raised the garden vegetables and tended the animals. It was a small but happy community as far as she had seen.
She rode in close to sundown, the dun pony striding eagerly under his load of furs and hides. This time the stableman brought an invitation as soon as the pony was relieved of his burden.
“Lord Jerrany asks if you will dine with him and the Lady Mayrin. After the meal, they would be pleased to see what you have brought.”
Eleeri’s ears pricked up at this. Interesting. Last time she had been treated with a wary condescension. Oh, the people had been polite enough. But it was clear that although they asked her no questions, they wondered at a woman who rode alone. She had conducted herself carefully, showing only courtesy and some of the lesser furs she had brought on that first trip. No sense in exciting greed. But with this invitation it was as well she had chosen to pack a couple of gifts suitable for a lord and his lady.
She waited until the man had gone, then opened her pack. She would place those carefully chosen presents on the top before lacing the tough material closed again. For a moment she lingered in the stable, brushing the pony as he leaned into the slow strokes. She had learned enough from Cynan to know that in some ways this Escore was a ghost-ridden land. It was haunted by those who had died in the adept wars, those slain by the Dark and those who served it. But with the coming of others from overmountain in Estcarp, new life had sprung up.
Cynan had said that with the newcomers the Dark had been stirred to action once more. But also small places such as this which had been long dead, had risen to new life. Her eyes flickered about the stable. This would have been rebuilt. It looked as if the roof was new, but the stone walls were old. Her own hold was like that. Well, she would take a quick look about outside. Last time she had not wished to, in case they took it amiss.
She nodded to herself as she walked to the door to stand looking out into the growing dusk. The keep had been carefully situated by whoever had raised the ancient stone walls. It tucked into a tight curve at the far end of a lake. In addition, the builders had bounded it by digging a ditch deep into the rocky ground. This completed the encirclement, so that the entire village was surrounded by running water. A potent spell, as the girl had learned.
She walked to the edge of the stream. The water had cut deeper over the ages so that it now ran through a deep channel and must be crossed by a bridge. She studied the mechanism—clever! The bridge could be raised to prevent passage. She looked closer and grinned. The locking bar was of forged iron. So the lord and his lady knew that trick.
But then, in this land they’d be fools if they didn’t.
She peered along the bridge, and her invitation to dinner started to make sense. At the far end, where she had crossed casually only a short time before, there was a new addition. It wasn’t obvious from the approach side but could be seen quite clearly from where she stood.
At the far end, thin forged iron bars had been inset into the wood between the planking. They were recent; she was sure she’d have noticed them had they been there before. Ancient stone posts guarded the bridge’s approaches, and from where she leaned, she could see a faint blue glow. It looked as if runes of protection had been placed there in slight hollows. They would be unseen by any approaching, even crossing the bridge. But it would take a Dark one of considerable power to cross. And such a one would set the runes to blazing.
So that was why she was now welcomed. The keep defenses had passed her as one who, if she did not walk in the Light, at least was not of the Dark. The sun was setting. She hurried back to the stable.
Shouldering the pack of furs, Eleeri tramped into the hall. A handsome man clothed in rich fabrics—obviously the Lord Jerrany—rose to greet her, offering a guest cup.
“To the farer on far roads, the welcome of this roof. May fortune favor your wandering.”
Eleeri’s hand went up as she allowed the pack to slip to the floor. “For the welcome of the gate, my gratitude. For the feast, thanks. To the lord and lady of this roof, all good fortune and a bright sun in days to come.” As she spoke, slowly her forefinger traced signs of guard and good fortune. She allowed her mind to open to them, and the air began to glow. Jerrany would have leaped for her, but his lady seized him hard.
“No, look to them. Here is no ill-wishing.”
The signs brightened into the warm blue-green of Light as the girl stepped back. She grinned cheekily up.
“Now that we all know where we are, would you prefer to eat or look at furs first?”
For a startled moment the two gazed at her. Then Mayrin’s grin flashed into a startlingly close copy of Eleeri’s smile.
“Come, eat and be very welcome. There is always time to look at luxuries later.” She slipped around the table and walked to the girl. “Sit here.” She turned. “Don’t all stand there gaping; bring our guest food. Or do you plan to starve a woman of the power?”
Servants sprang into action guiltily. Mayrin turned back. She eyed Eleeri’s pendant with interest. “You wear no jewel. Is this what you have instead?”
She had spoken without thinking, and now her hand went up to cover her mouth, just as her Lord looked horrified.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I know that was rude and I have no right to ask such a thing. I—it’s so beautiful I just asked.”
A soft chuckle. “Why not?” There was no need to speak of the pendant’s power. “It was a gift from a friend.” A thought came then. “Are either of you kin to one Cynan of the House of Bear’s-Kin?”
It was Jerrany who answered. “Cynan? I am not sure I know that name, but my mother was of the house. All that was swept away in the Horning. Her kin departed the land safely, but when they would have returned, it was too late.” Eleeri looked a question. “The turning came then. Soon after, my mother and her lord chose to take horse for Escore, called by geas.”
“Would she have known Cynan?”
“I do not know. It is possible, with the house on both sides of the border, there was some coming and going before Karsten ran mad. You do know there were two houses of that name?” At Eleeri’s headshake he nodded, continuing then. “It was thus. The house was founded by a landless man of good blood. It was on the border where land was easier come by, since Karsten was empty and the land was wild. Many generations later, another son of the house returned to Estcarp to build there. His keep was on the other side of the border, but close by as the hawk flies.”
He paused to savor the roast set before him. Eleeri and Mayrin smiled at each other as he talked.
“The house in Estcarp prospered also, and for many years there was much travel and trade between the two. My mother was of the Estcarp house. Of later years, the trade had lessened, but she had said when danger came, her house stood by kin, as was right. I think that those of the Karsten house were given shelter, but later they moved on. I know little more. My mother herself was wed shortly before the Horning and dwelt not within the keep.” He finished, reaching hungrily for the trenchers of bread.
“I thank you for that. Do you write to your mother?”
“Letters go with trade goods to other places. A letter may come to her hand in time.”
“Perhaps then you could say that Cynan of her house in Karsten wished this to be known to his kin.” She straightened, allowing her voice to take on an impersonal note. “I, Cynan of the House of Bear’s-Kin, returned to my keep to die within those walls. The land is yet in turmoil, so I have survived. But age comes upon me, I will lie in the land that once was ours. Let my kin remember there are two houses, that one day they may return. This message I send by the mouth of one I name kin-friend, sword-sister. Aid to her at need is laid upon our house, even as she aided me when I stood alone. This I, Cynan of the House of the Bear’s Kin, do swear.”<
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She reached for her pack then, producing the two plump packages. Formally she laid them upon the table, undoing the twisted grass string which bound them. In turn she held each up so that the lord and lady might see.
“To the lord and lady of the keep, I offer guest-gifts. May they be received from one who would be friend to you and your kin.”
Jerrany rose to bow. “They are received as guest-gifts,” he said slowly. “Friends in this land are always good to have, but those who move too swiftly may stumble. Yet we, too, would hope to have gained a new friend.”
Eleeri nodded, seeing that he did not move to take up the gifts. She laced the pack shut again and sat to continue the next course offered. As she ate quietly, she mused on the power she had displayed to them. It was growing, it seemed. When she had arrived in Karsten, she had been no more than a child with the horse-gift. But her time in Karsten seemed to have changed her. Meeting the lady in the place of the Old Ones. The gift of the warding stones. Cynan’s teaching. All seemed to have brought growth to her gift.
Once she had crossed into Escore, found her Keplian friends and her hold, things had changed further. The hold had closed about her in warmth. It was both unfamiliar and oddly familiar. As if after long wandering she had returned home. She eyed Mayrin as the woman ate. She, too, seemed to have some of the gift.
Mayrin looked up, to return the glance and smile a little. Then she reached for the gift. She laid it out, biting back unseemly groans of delight. A vest of rasti fur, and another for Jerrany. Her eyes glowed at the soft feel of the fur as she stroked it.
Jerrany reached for his own guest-gift. He had seen the quality at first glance and had deliberately taken time so as not to show his own interest. Eleeri watched as he took it up.
But Jerrany was giving nothing away. He passed her more food, pressing wine on her as well. She drank sparingly of that; water was her usual drink.
