by Andre Norton
“Ask that of the Bards—but expect no answers. This land may be more blessed than cursed—”
She halted, for a sound arose into the evening air. I caught my breath. They say that the Bards, if they so wish, can sing the soul out of a man, leaving him but an empty husk. I had thought those but the idle words of men who try to add more to any story. Now the sound which arose and fell across the stone world before us was such singing as I had never heard in my life—not even when the Arch Bard Ouse sang at midsummer feasting.
Nor was this any man's voice, but rather the soaring voices of more than one woman, reaching notes as high as any bird could carol. And it came from behind us!
I was on my feet and out from under the ledge, looking back along our pathway, only dimly aware, so bemused was I by that singing, that Gathea stood beside me so closely now that her shoulder rubbed against my own.
It was a hymn of praise—no, it was a song for lovers, beckoning. It was a trilling of victory, welcoming to safe homes those who had fought well and dared much. It was—
I could see them now. Women, yes, though their faces were mostly hidden by long hair, which stirred about them as if blown by a wind I could not feel here. Was it only long flowing hair which covered their slender bodies—or wore they robes as thin and frail as those locks which blew through the air? Silver was that hair, silver their bodies. They were far from me and yet as each one paced, singing, facing me, I thought that I caught sight of bright eyes, fire-bright, for they were the color of ruddy flames, which held steady sight in spite of the veiling of their hair.
Hand in hand they went, yet with a space between each of them as they circled—and there was another circle behind them and beyond that. Three circles! I uttered a small sound of my own.
Where the stone pillar of the trap had stood, that was where these singers now trod their way. Did I still see the pillars, or had twilight shrouded them? The silver bodies, the spinning hair, had a light of their own, thin and wan—
Still they wove then- way singing. Peace and happiness, love, longing fulfilled, life everlasting, but life of a new kind—a wondrous kind. One needed only to go to them and all this would be given. Sweeter, lower, more enticing became that song. I moved yet I had not willingly or consciously taken those steps. But I must go—
Again I was thrown with painful roughness into rock, this time rolling over with the force of the blow which had sent me down. Then a second body joined me and we struggled together in a tangle of arms and legs until a large and heavy furred weight landed crosswise, pinning us both to the earth.
I smelled the strong breath of the cat, heard the rumble of a growl, so low it was more a vibration through his body than an actual sound. The singing held high and true, but our struggles to throw off Gruu were useless.
Then I heard Gathea's voice through that heart-wrenching singing. Her face was so close to mine that her breath was warm on my cheek as she spoke.
“Fingers—in—ears—lure—”
I felt her squirming, and guessed that she was doing just that, thrusting her fingers into her ears to block out that sound. Half dazedly, for my head was beginning once more to ache woefully after this second assault, I, too, loosened my arms, though I did not struggle to free myself, so sealing out that singing with my fingers.
Gruu however did not stir, nor did Gathea attempt to free herself from where she lay half over me, the beast pressing us both down. I could smell the scent of herbs, sharp and clean, which must come from the hair which had shaken a little loose in her fall and now lay with the braid end close to my nose.
Guessing that this was a second part of the stone trap, and that it was an even more dangerous lure than the first, I strove to shut out sound, to concentrate on other things, such as how soon we might get away from this ever-present peril, and how many of such plague spots we might be apt to meet in this unknown land.
Very faintly I could still hear the singing, and it dragged at me, making me want to squirm free, to seek out those singers. Then, slowly, it died away. Perhaps we lost ourselves in a daze, for I cannot remember well what happened until there was the chill white of moonlight across us.
Gruu heaved himself up at last. I felt bruised and sore from being flattened so against the stone and was slow in drawing to my knees, so Gathea arose before me. She faced into the full rays of the moon and I saw her hands move in what could only be the gestures of some ritual.
It was a very bright moon, making the stone around us either silver or dead black, as shadows dictated. I dropped my hands from my ears. The night was so quiet I could only hear a whisper of sound from the girl as she recited words not meant for me to understand. I drew a little away from her and stood to look back at the circles of stone. They looked very far away, just as the singers had seemed so much closer. And they were only that once more—stones set on end for a purpose which I did not like to consider. The singers of the evening were gone, only the moon hung over us as Gruu pressed close to Gathea with a rumble of purr louder than her whisper voice.
7.
* * *
* * *
“More of your traps?” I demanded, shaken in spite of my efforts to appear well in control.
“Not my traps.” However her tone was light. I believed I saw a shadow of excitement on her moonlit face. “Sirens—yes—and meant to lure.” Now she flung her arms wide. “What wonder lingers here? Who wrought such spells and sorcery? What they must have learned— beyond the simple knowledge we have always thought so great!” She asked those questions not of me but of the night. It was as if she had come eagerly to an abundant feast table and could not begin to choose what was to be the first sweet or appetizing taste on her tongue.
Perhaps because she was already touched with learning beyond the control of rules and customs, this was indeed for her the opening of a door. Only for me it was otherwise. Save that I could not deny that my wariness of mind, my uneasiness of spirit, also held within seeds of curiosity.
We heard no more in the night and she had set Gruu on watch, assuring me that the great cat was far more likely to detect any danger than the most acute of human sentries. I had to agree that it was his quickness which had saved me once, and perhaps a second time, along with her, from the traps. Thus I did sleep, and if I dreamed no memory of that dream reached past my first awakening, to find the sun already throwing beams across the sky.
Gathea was seated crosslegged a little beyond, her back to the sun as well as to the dales where our own kind strove to shelter. Her head was up as she studied the broken land ahead, and I read into the tense angle of her shoulders the same alertness as would grip a hunter before he started on a warm trail.
Under the sun the land looked even more barren than it had when the moon had laid the silver of light, the dark of shadow across it. There were small gullies riven in the bare rock, as well as stretches which were as smooth as pavement. However, I was very glad to see, no standing stones which were more than those nature herself must have set on end and then smoothed through long seasons of sand blown by the wind.
This forsaken land was so empty that I doubted Gathea's quest, unless I had been right and she knew well enough just where Iynne hid because she had aided her to that hole herself. However, I knew enough to keep still on that suspicion and lend myself to the devices of the Wise Woman's girl, even if she meant only to confuse me, though some stubbornness within me argued that Gathea was more intent on traveling on into the unknown for her own reasons that she was in Iynne's plight or my own part in that.
I wondered, too, if the Sword Brothers had ridden this way during their exploration. If so they had certainly made it safely past that trap of the standing stones.
“Which way do we go?” I asked in a carefully neutral voice as I sat up.
Gruu had vanished again. Much as I mistrusted the beast, for I was not used to companying with an animal out of the wilds that manifestly had some form of communication with my companion, at the same time he could o
ffer defenses which I believed we might need.
“Westward,” she replied. Nor did she turn her head, but spoke almost absently, as if her mind already ranged well ahead of her body.
Once more we broke our fast in silence, and then arose to cross that broken land. At midmorning, as far as I could guess by the sun, we came upon one of those cups of green among the stones which did indeed house spring-a boon, for two others we had earlier investigated had no water. Here water rippled forth ran for a short distance, and then was lost in a stone bole into which
There two trees of reasonable size here, and number of bushes, from which started birds and some furred things which streaked across the ground so swiftly that one could not catch good sight of them. The bushes had been their reason for showing for the branches were heavily laden with fruit—larger than any berry which I knew. These were rich, dark red in color and some had burst open from the full strength of their own sweet flesh or had fallen to the ground where they had been pecked and gnawed
Gathea broke one of the globes free, lifted a piece of its skin with a fingernail, sniffed long at the innnr flesh and then set the tip of her tongue to the break. A moment later she drew it all into her mouth and was chewing lustily. While I, depending on her knowledge of growing things, followed her example. After our long journey across the broken lands and the sun-heated stone nothing tasted so good. These provided both food and drink we helped ourselves until we could eat no more. Then we gathered handfuls to be carried with us, cradled in leaves which Gathea pulled from a plant that grew at border of that very short stream and fastened together with small thorny twigs. I took both her water bottle and my own emptied what little remained in each, rinsed and filled them until there was only room to pound in their stop-
We had passed no more relics of the unknown people during the morning. The farther we had withdrawn from the circles, the emptier this land appeared, the more my spirits recovered. When I had finished replenishing our water supply I hitched my way up to the top of an out crop which helped to shelter the pocket of the spring and, shading my eyes to the sun's glare, strove to ahead the easier of the ways which might be offered us.
During the morning the distant line on the horizon had not only risen but grown still more sharply outlined against the cloudless sky. I thought that it marked heights—perhaps even mountains. But my inner uneasiness grew. I did not care how long a head start Iynne had had, surely she could not have come this way without any supplies or aid. Had I been deceived when I had been in a manner lured away from my first belief that she was taken by Thorg? No one who was not well hardened to the trail could have beaten us this far. While Iynne had been much shielded all her life—even during our trek north when she had spent all her hours of travel within that wain which had been made the most comfortable for her alone. Garn was not in the least soft of speech or manner, but he valued his daughter, if for no other reason than for the alliance her eventual marriage would bring to his small house—he would risk nothing concerning her.
Having decided that she could not have come this way alone, I determined to have plain speech once again with Gathea, and slid down the rock, pushing through the brush to where she was washing her hands in the running water.
She did not look up at me but she spoke, startling me:
“You turn again to thoughts of Thorg. You believe that I do not know—or care—what happened to your Keep lady. Not so!” Now she did raise her head to stare at me, a fierce light in her eyes such as I have seen a hawk wear when it surveyed its own hunting territory and thought of the swift flight, the final pounce, which was to come. “I know this: There was power in the shrine which would be an open door—at the right time. Why do you think I sought it? I—I was meant to take that path! Your lady gathered up a harvest which was to be mine! She is a fool and will not know or understand what she had chanced into. But she shall not have the good of it—no, she shall not!”
“I know she could not have come this far alone,” I pushed aside her heat of voice. “She was not one who could trail so. Thus—I must have missed some sign or—”
“Or you think I have misled you? Why? She has what is mine. I will have it! If you can take her back—then I shall rejoice. I tell you she meddled ignorantly and we have yet to find the end of a trail which may never touch on the ground of this land at all!”
Gathea arose and shook the water from her hands, then ran her damp palms across her face.
“There were no signs of any mounts—” I held stubbornly to my own thought.
“There may be here such mounts as you cannot begin to dream of,” she snapped. “Or other ways of travel. I do not think that the door she found open gave on this land before us—but that its source does lie ahead.”
Because I had no answer for myself, I again had to take her word as we went on. There was no sign of Gruu. If the cat still accompanied us, he either scouted before or ranged at some distance beyond our sighting. However we were not far along from the cup of the spring before we came to a way which was some relief against the straight beams of the sun whose glare on the rocks struck back at us with a heavy heat like that of an autumn fire.
There was another cut in the broken lands, this a narrow valley. No water ran here, but as we dropped into it we found that in places the stone walls arose to arch across the way and there was cooler air, which now and then puffed full into our faces, as if a wind deliberately chose to make our way easier. Also the floor of this cleft was free of any falls of stone from the rim and ran almost as straight as a road westward. I searched carefully for any sign that this had been made by intent but there were no marks on the stone to suggest that man or some other intelligence had wrought this.
Gathea strode forward as if she knew exactly where she was going, and there was a need for haste. I went perhaps more slowly, keeping not only an eye on the edges of the cliff well above our heads, but an ear to listen for any sound which was not made by the pad of our own trail boots.
Perhaps because of that extra awareness I sighted what I might not have noticed had I trod in the dales or along the trail we had come from the Gate. It was neither sound nor sight, but rather uncurled within me, as might a thread of thought which I had not consciously summoned. It is difficult to describe inner awareness that has no visible existence.
Had I walked under the sun I would have thought that I was dazzled by the heat, my mind affected enough to see those mirages which travelers are supposed to view in desert lands—often to their destruction if they are beguiled to leave the trail. Only there was not enough heat here. In fact, the farther we advanced, the more the cliffs above drew together to shade us and the oftener those wandering puffs of air came to cool our bodies.
Still—can a man form pictures in his mind alone? Scenes which were not born of memory or from some tale he had heard many times over so that the descriptions which are a part of it take on reality? I did not know— save this, which began to linger in small quick snatches of inner sight, was from no dream of mine, and certainly not out of memory.
Twice I closed my eyes for the space of three or four strides. When I did so I knew that I did not walk on naked rock in a desolate land. No, I marched with purpose along a way well known to me and there was an urgency upon me that some task hard set must be carried through, lest evil come. Nor did walls of rock rise on either hand. I saw, from the corners of my eyes (or seemed to) brilliantly colored buildings among which people moved— though I had only a flutter of shadow to mark them. When I opened eyes again I was in the cleft—and— still—that other half-sight was also with me.
Whether Gathea experienced that same strange overlay of one with another I did not know. Nor did I want to ask. There was sound in my closed-eye place also. Not the sweetness of evil such as the singers in the night had used to draw, rather this was a kind of whispering—if one could hear distant cries or orders or urging to action as whispers instead of shouting.
I think I was caught in that maze of one world
upon another passage for a long time. For suddenly, when I roused, there was no longer the other scene about me; the sun was well to the west and our cleft opened out into a wide valley as green and open as the dales behind, appearing to be a land in which enchantment had no place.
Animals grazed some distance away. One, on the outskirts of that herd, raised a head on which branched horns glinted with a sheen as if they were coated with burnished silver. It was larger than the deer we had seen in the sea-girt dales, and its coat was paler, a silver-gray, marked with lines of a dark shade about the forelegs.
It gave a bellowing call and then was gone with a great leap, the rest of the herd dashing after it. But not swiftly enough, for out of the tall grass flashed a furred hunter that could only be Gruu. He brought down a younger buck, one with far less of the horned majesty of the herd's leader, killing it by a single well-placed blow.
Thus, as we came up to the cat, he was licking eagerly at the blood, raising his head to stare at us and growl.
There was a goodly amount of meat and I found myself eager to set knife to it, to build a fire and toast strips which would be better eating by far than the dry journey cakes. However I knew better than to dispute with Gruu over the prey he had himself pulled down.
So I hesitated but Gathea went forward quickly, the cat allowing her to come near. She stooped and put her hand on the head of the dead creature, touching it lightly between those silver horns, as she spoke aloud:
“Honor to the Great One of the herd. Our thanks to That Which Speak for the four-footed that we may eat— we take not save that which is freely given.”
Gruu raised his head also and sounded forth a roar as if he added to her words. She turned and beckoned and we did share Gruu's kill—taking only that portion which we would eat that night and leaving the rest for the cat. Nor did I attempt to hide the fire I built, collecting wood from some trees nearby—for there was a feeling here that the night would not hold danger.
