by Andre Norton
The conversation moved on to hunting and Eleeri realized with some amusement that the lord was now trying delicately to discover her home territory. His questions circled cleverly. At one time querying if certain bushes would grow in her area, at another if hill hens were within her borders. She answered truthfully. It was unlikely he would find her. The canyon was high in the mountains where few trails ran. Nor was the entrance easy to find, even for one who followed the Light.
Once the meal was concluded, she reached for her pack, unlacing the drawstrings with swift fingers. Then she began to unfold furs, some the dazzling white of the mountain leapers, others the silver-tipped rich brown of river rasti in winter. She had had to work very carefully to get those last. Rasti hunted in packs and would attack anything that was food if they hungered. They were swift, cunning, and deadly, appetites on four legs, feared by even the most skillful hunters. They could be killed. But those who fell dead were at once eaten by their kin. To have cured undamaged furs proclaimed her far and wide as a hunter of unmatched skill.
Jerrany drew in his breath. There was now no doubt, this one was of the Light, but what a hunter, also. He must indeed write to his dam and kin. He would send word also to the Green Valley and she who dwelled there. His lady caught his eyes, speaking wordlessly with tiny movements, her eyes alight with hope. He nodded slightly, hand twitching in a signal that she should move slowly. For several hours they bargained over the finest furs either had ever seen. The girl had come from the mountains somewhere, that was certain. Leaper furs of this whiteness could only have come from beasts living in snow more than half a year.
He allowed the rasti furs to slide through his hands. But this was the puzzle. These were lowland animals; this type tended to live by rivers on flat land.
Eleeri retired to the offered room for the night while he still sat pondering. She had to be of the Light. She’d passed forged iron, runes of ward and guard; she’d then called Light in runes herself. But the pendant his lady had admired was that of a Keplian. Those accursed followers of evil had killed many over the years. Would it be wise to broach to the girl the matter of the missing one?
He shrugged, departing for his own bed. There he found Mayrin of no mind to let slip an opportunity.
“Where do you then think her to live?” he was queried when he confessed his bewilderment.
“I know not. She brings furs from mountain and plains. Aldred says she came from the east along the lakeside. Those rasti furs are of a kind that makes a home by rivers; maybe she followed the stream that flows into our lake. But I cannot be sure. None of us have traveled far to the east. Those are the lands of the Gray Ones and the Keplians.”
“She is not evil,” his lady was swift to point out.
“That is seen, but how she lives in such a place, I do not know.”
His lady shrugged. To her it mattered not where the girl lived, as long as she was sure of her innocence. That she was, after the demonstration in the hall. She was sure of another thing, also. Eleeri had a sense of humor. She had marked the wicked twinkle as their visitor called power to her runes. It had been as if she were saying, There, you misjudged me. Mayrin had felt a sudden feeling of liking flow between them as eyes met. She wanted to know more of Eleeri as a friend.
She lay curled in her warm bed, mind drifting into sleep. But even as she relaxed, her heart wept, remembering.
She loved Jerrany. He’d been her idol from the time she was old enough to admire his youthful courage. He, in turn, had been kind to the younger girl who followed him. He had told her of his ambitions, to raise up a house again. His father had died in Estcarp’s wars, and his mother fled to Escore with her new lord, a man Jerrany disliked. He would carve out new lands for himself, not be beholden to another.
That was as well, Mayrin had thought silently. Her hero’s stepfather liked the boy no more than the boy liked him. Jerrany’s mother had produced other children to her new lord. It would be they who inherited his holding, close to Mayrin’s own in a dangerous land.
She herself had been promised to another, a man she feared. But her own father was adamant.
“What if you do not like him, silly chit? You know nothing of him but his looks from afar. You will wed him and unite our houses.”
But Escore, too, warred, and the man died—to her very great and secret relief. Jerrany announced soon after that he planned to seek a new home. She had been heartbroken: she would never see him again. He was brother, friend, protector, and he was deserting her.
In secret she had learned swordplay from Jerrany. Now she bent her mind to gathering other abilities: knowledge of poison, the making of arrows, the setting of guard runes. Jerrany had come and gone, bidding her a gentle farewell. Her father had begun to cast about for another lord for her when Jerrany returned, jubilant.
“I’ve found our home. It’s all a ruin now, but most of the walls are still there. We can build it up again, Mayrin.”
“What have I to do with it?” she had asked bitterly.
She had met astonished eyes. “Why, it’s our home,” he had said simply. “Don’t you want to be with me?”
Her heart had leaped up. Without caring for her dignity, she had flung herself at him, laughing and weeping at the same time. “Of course I do. You know I do. I thought you didn’t want me.”
He had taken her by the shoulders, setting her back from him so that their eyes met. “I suppose I always thought you knew. I love you, Mayrin. Why else would I have been seeking land and a home for us? Now I have a place and we can be wed.”
It hadn’t been that easy. Her father had first forbidden her to see the boy, as he had termed Jerrany. Finding that difficult to enforce, he had spoken to Jerrany himself, only to find a fighter who met him as an equal.
“I love Mayrin; Mayrin loves me. You may bring her to the altar with another. You cannot force her to speak vows, nor would such an attempt be approved in this place.”
Her father had been furious, so much so that he had tried to goad her brother into an attack on Jerrany. But Romar had refused. Jerrany had been his friend since they came to the Valley of the Green Silences. He was almost the same age and together they had trained, fought, become as brothers in blood. Mayrin had thought at this point her father would suffer a seizure.
“Defied by one whelp!” he had roared. “Then by the other. By all the gods, you may go your own way, then. But expect nothing from me. Neither bride gifts, nor aid, nor anything I have. Go your way alone, both of you!”
They had done so, with Mayrin set in the care of Duhaun herself as her brother and beloved gathered what they must have. Others had chosen to join them, the lure of new lands being great. Some from Estcarp came still to Escore, and three families of those who joined them. Here and there single men added themselves to the group, bringing what they had in the way of goods and gear. More had followed later.
Romar—she remembered his gaiety. His laughter. He had been a rover, a wanderer across this strange and ancient land. It had called to his heart so that for months at a time he had vanished into its vastnesses. It was as if he sought without knowing, as if he hungered without being satisfied. He looked at none of the girls who would have been glad for his notice. Her father had raged to no avail. Those who led here valued the boy’s skills, his reports of a land where evil was slowly being driven back.
Mayrin had loved her brother. It had delighted her heart when he chose to accompany them. But now he was lost, gone into that unknown from whence she feared he would never return.
Now from out of that same unknown a woman came. Nothing was impossible; perhaps Eleeri had seen or heard something. Maybe she could seek out some clue to Romar? Mayrin resolved to be careful, to move slowly, as her lord had said. But she would know all that her visitor knew. She would!
In sleep her mouth still held tight to that resolution. Romar was her brother beloved; no unknown land should reive him from her. She would befriend this traveler, leech from her any secrets she k
new, use her if she must, anything to bring her brother home again.
The morning dawned bright and fair. Eleeri would have ridden homeward then, her trading complete, but that Mayrin pled with her to stay awhile. For the sorrow in the lady’s eyes, Eleeri stayed. They talked and laughed together as lonely women will, finding in each other a friend unlooked for.
A day passed swiftly, and another. Glad to see his beloved so happy, Jerrany also pressed the visitor to remain. In all, Eleeri was at the keep for seven days before her need to return grew great. That last day Mayrin took her aside.
Her head hung in shame as she talked, but the younger girl smiled. “Don’t look like that, Mayrin. I guessed there was a favor you needed. Whatever it is, I can promise to try if it not be against honor.”
“It is not, I promise it is not.” Mayrin ran lightly from the room to return with a small package. It was wrapped in a piece of fine cloth which she unwrapped gently.
“I’ve talked about Romar, my brother. He went from us into the lands to the east many months ago now. Nor has he returned. I fear for him.” She stared sadly at the palm-sized painting she now displayed to Eleeri. “This was done before we left the Valley of the Green Silences. I have one of myself and my lord also. But this is dearer by far. It may be all that is left to me of Romar.”
“The favor?”
“Wherever you go, wherever your home is, let you seek, let your eyes be ever busy searching, looking for one like this. I would give all I have to bring him safely home.” Her eyes were desperate.
The woman she addressed nodded slowly. “I do indeed wander, as did your brother, sometimes to the east. I will watch for him, free him if he be trapped, bury him if I find his body, bring news to you if I have any. But only as I can. I, too, have those who rely on me. I cannot risk them for one unknown who may already be dead. But I sorrow for your grief. I will do what I can.”
Mayrin flung her arms about the slender body. “That is all I ask. Come back. With news or without it, a welcome holds for you ever.”
Eleeri turned away, but Mayrin’s fingers seized her arm. Eleeri turned, brows raised questioningly. A small object was pressed into her hand.
“Here; you did not look truly. Look now, study the face. He may have changed a little if he has been treated ill by those of the Dark. Please, remember him, find him for me.”
Eleeri looked down. At her previous glance the boy had seemed nothing special. Now she looked closer as her new friend begged. She guessed that Romar would have been sixteen when the limning was done. The same age as— She stared suddenly. No wonder she had no more than glanced. Why should she look closer? The image of this boy stood staring imploringly at her.
“You know he’s alive somewhere, don’t you?” Eleeri said. “You’re twins.”
“That is so,” Mayrin said softly. “I feel him to be in great danger, but death has not touched him as yet. You are also right that we are twins. It is rare, very rare for those of the Old Race. Few there have been with any talent in our line, but Romar has an affinity with beasts. Horses in particular.” Her fingers twined and twisted frantically, although her voice remained calm and quiet. “But we have the gift of twins. I would know if he were dead; therefore he is not. Find him for me, Eleeri.”
For a long moment, Eleeri studied the portrait. Mayrin had changed, but not greatly since this was done. The boy here was young, untried. But there was strength in that face, pride without vice, power without the need to use it unjustly. The eyes were lonely, inward-looking. To an outsider he would have appeared as no great one to risk aught for. His face was thin, with fine bones and a determined chin. Eyes of a shade more green than gray, if the painter had not lied—but no. Mayrin’s eyes, too, were that hue. The mouth was clean-cut, modeled with almost a delicacy, but there was no weakness in the set of those lips. It was the mouth of one who acted as well as dreamed.
It drew her in a way she had never felt before. She was no child to be attracted by any pretty face. She would have shrugged off the feeling, but even that would have been to acknowledge it. Mayrin had been kind; her lord had traded fairly. They asked only that she be alert for traces of this one. It was not asked that she storm any strongholds of the Dark. She glanced down again. Hmm, a trick of the light . . . for a moment the painted eyes had seemed to implore, to focus on her. Her face came up, eyes measured Mayrin. Witchery? No, she did not think so. Just a trick of the light.
This likeness must have been made ten years ago or more. From what her friend had said during the past week, Eleeri could piece some things together. Romar must be about twenty-seven now, Jerrany some three years older. She bit back a sound of contempt. Mayrin’s father must have been an idiot. Fancy expecting a boy of sixteen to confront one who was older, more experienced, and his best friend as well. Twenty-seven—about six years older than Eleeri was now. She brushed that idea aside. His age was unimportant. Let him be a child or a grandfather, she had promised to watch for signs of him. That she would do, but no more than that.
She rode midmorning, with Mayrin and Jerrany at the bridge to wish her a good journeying. The women hugged a final time and there was a genuine friendship in that.
The keep’s lady wore her guest-gift proudly, the vest of rasti fur glistening in the sun. Now and again her fingers strayed to the pockets lining the inside. How clever, how cunning. She would have these made for every gown now that she had been given the trick of them. Jerrany, too, would find them useful, in his jerkins. Romar should, too—she felt a bitter pain. Romar might never know anything she would wish to tell him. She watched until horse and rider vanished around the lake edge.
“Find him, please find him, bring him back to me,” she whispered into the air.
Eleeri rode around the lake. With all her trade pelts gone, she could ride again, and it pleased her. The walk to the keep had been long and tiring. In a day or two she would be back at the canyon with Tharna, Hylan, and the others. But as the pony trotted on, a young face intruded. Well, she would keep an eye open for the boy—man now. The gray-green eyes seemed to hang in her mind, hopeful, waiting. With a determined effort, she banished them. Winter was coming. She had things to do other than looking for some fool who’d probably only gotten himself lost.
She slept that night in wards, but in her dreams she saw him. After that he was gone. Eleeri nodded. Her mind was her own; it would banish what it was bid. If imploring eyes watched her, after that they were ignored. So she told herself, and who is to say she lied?
9
But she did keep her promise. She raided less often into Keplian lands, but when she did, her eyes were always alert for the boy who looked like Mayrin. The Gray Ones watched her, but after several disastrous meetings, they tended to look the other way—unless they were in full pack as they were one bright spring morning after winter was banished from even the mountains about Eleeri’s canyon. They gave chase, but the tough fit pony carrying a light weight and the powerful Keplian mare stayed easily beyond their reach.
Eleeri reined in many miles later, laughing. “That gave them a nice run. Didn’t they look disappointed?”
The mare gave her whinnying laugh, then sobered. *Kin-sister, have you not noticed, this spring they have returned to chasing us again. Before the winter, they had looked aside if we were in view. Now they hunt again.*
“That was full pack,” the girl objected.
*They knew themselves unable to catch us, but they still gave chase. Something builds; the Gray Ones do not hunt where the prey is worthless.*
Eleeri grinned. “I wouldn’t say we were worthless, precisely.”
*Not if they could take us, no. But they have tried often in the past, failed, and ceased to try. So why do they try again now?*
“I see what you mean.” She sat her pony, looking thoughtful. It was strange. For most of the previous year the wolfmen had ignored them both. Tharna could be right. Something was building. But what—and why? Her mind made an intuitive leap. Romar! According to Mayri
n, he’d ridden off in spring last year. They’d expected him back by late summer. Could the Gray Ones have taken him, found a use for him? But what sort of use, apart from food? Or torture? her mind added grimly. The pony had ceased to nibble at the grass. Now he lifted his head alertly. Eleeri gathered in the reins.
“I suspect trouble comes. Best we leave.”
The mare nodded, then stiffened as the gust of changing wind came to her nose. Her eyes met Eleeri’s in deepening surprise. The pack still followed. Eleeri led them to the river. Let the evil ones stick their noses into all that running water. It might cool their brains. The river ran higher than expected, so that the girl was becoming worried. It would be dangerous to cross, it must have rained higher in the mountains last night.
Moving with decision, she swung the hunt upriver, heading now for the stream that fed the lake. That, too, was high, and the crossing was difficult. They paused to rest on the other side as the pack snapped and snarled in frustration.
“Better keep going, kin-sister. I have a nasty feeling that if we stay in plain sight, it may impel that lot to do something stupid.”
The mare shrugged. *If they try to cross, they die.*
“And if it dawns on them this stream has an end?”
Tharna looked startled. It would be well out of the territory, but there was actually nothing to prevent the pack from circling the lake to continue the hunt.
*It is far—many days, even for them.*
“True, but if they are driven, they might not care about that. There is food to be hunted and when they round the lake there are also humans.”
The mare nodded silently. Humans unaware of approaching danger. As they talked, they had moved away from the stream, hooves clicked dully on the rocky trail. They traveled several hours in silence, each recalling the events of the day. There was little doubt that something stirred in the land once more. Tharna was apprehensive; her kin-sister would insist on poking her nose into it, whatever it was. She would that Eleeri was better armed. Not with her bow only, but with the gift and powers. They walked slowly, so she had time to decide. A flick of her mind alerted the girl that there was something the mare wished her to consider.
