“Luck favors those who favor themselves.” It was a reminder his mother had frequently given him, and one he had cause to believe. He chuckled, remembering the look on his mother’s face the last time he had seen her. How surprised she’d been, since he was supposed to be already gone with his caravan.
He reached the place where grass grew sparsely at midmorning, and as he expected, the horse had to be beaten to encourage it to continue. This spot was forbidden to the Espadryni; the land was poisoned, they believed, cursed by the gods, and they wouldn’t even graze their horses or ingleras nearby. It was true that there were strange glassy patches where nothing grew. But if you persisted, if you were lucky and followed your luck, you found that in the center of this damaged place there was an old Caid ruin, very well preserved, with a spring of water that rose up out of the ground and formed a pool before sinking away again, where good grass grew around small sections of smooth paving.
What could be handier? What could be luckier for him than a place everyone else was afraid of going? A well-hidden place where Bekluth could leave his stock and his extra horses, from which he could travel, not on foot as the Espadryni always saw him, but on horseback. And much faster than anyone knew or suspected.
The horses began to walk faster, as if they could smell the water and good grass that was close in front of them. Once they’d reached the spot where Bekluth usually left them, he unloaded as quickly as he could, hobbling the two horses he was going to leave—he thought he had time for that much caution at least—and, mounting the third horse, he headed out in the direction of the Door.
He’d almost answered with the truth when the Mercenary woman asked him about being near the Door. Even now he could feel it, as if light shone from within her. To be so open, to have nothing—nothing—hidden. It was amazing.
“Of course, she has no reason to hide.” Where she came from, no one was going to kill her just for being born. She was safe even here, where even the foolish Mages of the Espadryni could see that she was full of light. He leaned over the horse’s shoulders and squeezed with his knees. He wouldn’t ever have to kill her. Unlike with his own mother, there was nothing in Dhulyn Wolfshead that screamed to be let out. There probably never would be.
Still, she was bound somehow to her Partner, and he was a different matter. There was something in him, all right, something he was hiding. Some darkness that needed to be released. Bekluth almost sat up straight in the saddle, confusing the stupid horse, who thought he meant it to slow down. If he opened the man, let the darkness out, freed him, wouldn’t that free her as well? Wasn’t she in the same danger from the darkness that the man was?
But he’d need to find just the right time. It might be best to wait until the Mercenaries had given up and were on their way back. Then no one would be looking for him, and he could free them in safety. No one else would be looking for him.
Once he’d taken care of the boy.
The woman called Snow-Moon didn’t even look up from the pot she was stirring. “There’s some wish to speak with you. Younger ones.” She waved vaguely toward the group of women hovering behind her.
“Over here, you silly old woman.” The woman who stood up on the far side of the cook fire was tall and had Dhulyn’s gray eyes, though her nose was much longer. Standing there, her left hand propped on her hip, her lips twisted in a sideways smile, it was hard to tell there was anything wrong with her; she seemed merely annoyed. “Though there’s more than we who’d like a change from minding the children and looking out for bad weather,” she said when the old woman looked narrowly at her. She smiled at Dhulyn. “You’re the Seer then, are you? Dhulyn Wolfshead? I’m Winter-Ash.”
The older woman, Snow-Moon, still looked at Winter-Ash with narrowed, calculating eyes. Would she forbid it, Parno wondered. Did the women observe a type of hierarchy among themselves? Finally Snow-Moon shrugged.
“You’ll need at least two others,” she said, as she turned and limped away.
“I have them right here, as you very well know,” Winter-Ash called after the elder. Two other young women stood up, grinning, to join her.
Parno glanced at Dhulyn and was not surprised to see her face an ivory mask. How could the trader Bekluth Allain say that there was nothing hidden about her? About either of them. He could only hope that his own face was as impassive as his Partner’s, that the emotions raised in him by the halting, dragging gait of the Seer Snow-Moon remained hidden.
“Will you do this then, whole woman? Help us?” Winter-Ash asked when the other two women reached her.
“What is this, Winter-Ash? What would you have from Dhulyn Wolfshead?” The creaking voice of Singer of the Grass-Moon forestalled whatever answer Dhulyn had been about to make.
“Seer’s business, old man. I needn’t give you any explanation, and that’s part of the Pact, so don’t glower at me.”
Singer of the Grass-Moon turned to Dhulyn. “I will advise against it, that is allowed under the Pact.”
Winter-Ash made a face and waved this suggestion away, tossing her long hair over her shoulders and away from her face. “The oldsters are always against us.” There was laughter in her voice and charm in her smile. “She needs help, doesn’t she, her and her man? Well, we need her help also. Haven’t we Seen her, again and again?”
“Snow-Moon does not seem to agree,” the Singer said.
Winter-Ash shrugged, and Dhulyn almost expected her to roll her eyes. “And do you all agree? Always? All you men? Go on. Mind your business and we’ll mind ours.” She turned back to Dhulyn. “Come, do you agree?”
“You have Seen me, you say?”
“Many times, have none of them told you? Come, all will be revealed.”
Dhulyn’s eyebrows twitched, but she agreed with a short bow. Parno found himself doing something he hadn’t consciously done in more than a moon, reaching out with his Pod sense. He sometimes thought he could sense something in other people, especially with Dhulyn, but now he felt nothing at all from the Espadryni women.
The three Seers led them through the women’s area, to a clear space on the north side of the encampment, where the grazing of the camp horses had clipped the grass short.
“This will do,” Winter-Ash said. “This is sufficient space, far enough away from prying eyes. Here we may be calm and call the Visions to us.”
“How do we do this?” Dhulyn asked. “Are we enough? In my own Visions of the lost Tribes in our land, there are many more in the circle.”
The three women exchanged glances, but Parno could not tell what they were thinking.
“Music will help,” one of the other women said. “Can your man play for us?”
“I’ll get my pipes,” Parno said.
“Just your chanter,” Dhulyn called after him. The skin crawled up Parno’s neck as he went. Even three Espadryni women could be no match for his Partner, but he found he didn’t like leaving her alone with them.
Dhulyn looked at the three women and found them all looking back with steady gazes, clear eyes, and encouraging smiles. The only hint that all was not perfectly normal, in fact, was that their smiles were a little too much alike. It was clear from the variation in eye shape, breadth of cheekbone, and form of mouth that these three were not closely related, and yet their smiles had this eerie similarity.
“You don’t seem any different to me,” Winter-Ash said. She was scrutinizing Dhulyn’s face, almost squinting. “How are you fooling them?”
Dhulyn knew immediately what was meant. “I’m not. I am as they believe me to be.”
“Well, we’ll have the secret soon enough. That’s why we’re here, after all.” This was the shorter, huskier of the two other women. Her face was open and sincere.
“There is nothing I can tell you,” Dhulyn said.
“Your man, does he rule you?” Winter-Ash asked. “Or can you come and go as you please, even without him?”
“Parno Lionsmane is my Partner,” Dhulyn answered. “As for coming and goin
g, I am the Senior Mercenary Brother, and in things of the Brotherhood, all decisions are finally mine to make.”
“And the things not of the Brotherhood?” asked the huskier woman.
“There are no things not of the Brotherhood.”
The three women laughed, and though their laughter was warm, and intimate, Dhulyn shivered. Wit had not been her intention; what she had said was no more or less than the Common Rule. These women thought her Seniority gave her power over Parno, while all it did was bind them closer together.
“Quiet, then, here he comes now.”
Parno trotted up on Dhulyn’s left, brandishing his chanter. “What now?”
“Do you stand there and play,” Winter-Ash said. “While we Seers clasp hands.”
Dhulyn unsheathed her sword, placed it next to Parno, and took position between Winter-Ash and the shorter woman. Their hands were as rough as her own, but the calluses were in different places. I don’t cook, Dhulyn thought. I don’t weave or spin or sew. Since the Seers were not allowed to bear weapons of any kind, not even to defend themselves, the Espadryni women were oddly limited in the tasks that traditionally left their marks on a person’s hands or body.
The three Seers began to hum a tune and shuffle their feet, and Dhulyn felt a moment of displacement, not unlike what they had felt while walking the Path, until she realized the tune they were humming was not the familiar one she associated with using her Mark, but something totally unknown to her.
Parno took up the melody quickly, but it took several repetitions for Dhulyn to take it in and begin to hum it herself. She took a step and a half to the right. Back to the left, with her right foot crossing in front of her left. Back and forth.
GUNDARON THE SCHOLAR WALKS DOWN A LONG LINE OF SHELVES, SPAN AFTER SPAN OF THEM, WOOD, FOLLOWEDBY ME TALAN DTH ENBY STONE BEFORE BECOMING WOOD AGAIN. DHULYN CAN HEAR THE HEELS OF HIS BOOTS CRACKING AGAINST THE FLOOR. GUN’S EYES FLICK BACK AND FORTH, SCANNING THE MARKS AND TITLES ON THE BOOKS AND SCROLLS THAT SURROUND HIM. THE AIR IS HEAVY WITH THE SMELL OF PARCHMENT, PAPER, AND THE PECULIAR SCENT OF OLD LEATHRBINDINGS. GUN’S FINDING SOMETHING, DHULYN THINKS, A SENSE OF WONDER WELLING UP INSIDE HER. THIS IS THE LIBRARYHE’S OFTEN SPOKEN OF, WHERE HE GOES FOR CLUES, WHERE HEFINDS. AS SHE WATCHES, HE STOPS ATA BLUE-GREEN VOLUME AND PULLS IT OFF THE SHELF. HE GLANCES TOWARD HER, AND AS THEIR EYES MEET, HIS WIDEN AND “DHULYN,” HE SAYS ...
SHE TURNS AWAY AND LOOKS OUT OVER THE PLAIN THAT STRETCHES OUT BEFORE THEM. IT IS CLOSE TO SUNSET, AND THE ANGLE OF THE LIGHT GIVES EVERYTHING A LONG SHADOW WITH SOFT EDGES. IT IS A TIME OF DAY FOR THE LAST STROLL OF THE EVENING. BUT NO ONE STROLLS BELOW. DHULYN KNOWS AT ONCE THAT WHAT SHE SEES WAS ONCE CULTIVATED FIELDS. CORN, SHE THINKS. BUT THE FIELDS ARE BURNED NOW, BY A FIRE THAT SPREAD FROM THE WEST, LEAVING STALKS BLACKENED AND ONLY JUST DARKER THAN THEIR OWN SHADOWS. THE FIRE MUST HAVE BEEN FOL-LOWED QUICKLY BY A FREEZE, WHICH PREVENTED THE GROWTH OF THOSE PLANTS THAT NORMALLY SPRING UP AFTER THE PASSAGE OF FLAME. NO PLOUGH HAS TOUCHED THE LAND SINCE.
“DO YOU KNOW THIS PLACE?” SHE ASKS THE WOMEN WITH HER.
WINTER-ASH SHAKES HER HEAD, LOWER LIP BETWEEN HER TEETH. “WE DO NOT KNOW THE LANDS OF FIELDS AND TOWNS,” SHE SAYS. “THEY WOULD KILL US THERE. COME, HERE IS A PATH .” ...
THIS PATH LEADS THEM DOWN AND AROUND AN OUTCROPPING OF BOULDERS AND THROUGH ANOTHER FIELD, WITH THE SUN SHINING OVERHEAD. THIS IS HAY, WITH ITS CLEAN GRASS SMELL, BUT IT IS FOUR OR MORE SEASONS OLD, GROWN WEEDY, WITH SMALL TREES ALREADY THRUSTING UP TALLER THAN THE GRASS. SOMETHING WHITE CATCHES DHULYN’S EYE, AND SHE STOPS, CROUCHING ON HER HEELS TO EXAMINEIT MORE CLOSELY.
“BONES,” WINTER-ASH SAYS FROM ABOVE HER. “WHAT MAKES THEM SO WHITE?”
“HUMAN BONES,” DHULYN AGREES. “THE SUN AND TIME HAVE BLEACHED THEM. THEY’VE LAIN HERE MORE THAN ONE SEASON, THAT’S CERTAIN.”
“LOOK.” THE SHORTER WOMAN HOLDS UP WHAT LOOKS LIKE A STRAND OF SILK, THE COLOR OF OLD BLOOD. DHULYN HOLDS OUT HER HAND FOR IT AND SEES THAT IT IS A LONG TRESS OF UNBRAIDED HAIR.
“IT MIGHT ALMOST BE FROM ONE OF US,” WINTER-ASH SAYS, AND THERE IS A NOTE IN HER VOICE THATDHULYN DOES NOT EXPECT. “IS THERE ANYTHING OTHER THAN EMPTINESS AND ABANDONMENT FOR US TO SEE IN THIS WORLD THAT IS TO COME?” ...
THE THIN, SANDY-HAIRED MAN IS STILL WEARING THE GOLD RINGS IN HIS EARS, BUT HIS FACE IS LINED NOW, AND HIS FOREHEAD HIGHER. HE IS SITTING AT A SQUARE TABLE, ITS TOP INLAID WITH LIGHTER WOODS, READING BY THE LIGHT OF TWO LAMPS. A PLATE TO HIS LEFT CONTAINS THE REMNANTS OF A MEAL—CHICKEN OR SOME OTHER FOWL, JUDGING BY THE BONES. HE LOOKS TOWARD THE ROOM’S SINGLE WINDOW AND RISES TO LOOK OUT. HE MUST HAVE STEPPED IN SOMETHING WET FOR HIS FEET, CLAD IN THE EMBROIDERED FELT OF HOUSE SLIPPERS, LEAVE DARK MARKS ON THE FLOOR. IT IS DARK OUTSIDE, AND THERE MUST BE NO MOON, FOR DHULYN CAN SEE NOTHING OUTSIDE THE WINDOW. THE MAN TURNS TOWARD THE TABLE AGAIN AND, SMILING, SAYS “HOW CAN I HELP?” ...
GUNDARON AND MAR ARE SITTING ON THE GROUND, LEANING ON ONE ANOTHER. MAR HAS HER ARM AROUND GUN, AND SHE IS WHISPERING TO HIM, THOUGH EVEN WITH THE HEIGHTENED EXPERIENCE OF BEING HERE WITH OTHERSEERS, DHULYN CANNOT MAKE OUT THE WORDS. WHAT IS WRONG WITHGUN? WHY DOESMAR LOOK SO WORRIED? DHULYN TAKES A STEP CLOSER AND SITS DOWN ON HER HEELS TO GET A BETTER ANGLE ON GUN’S FACE. HE TURNS TOWARD HER, BUT HE DOESN’T SEE HER. NOT ONLY BECAUSE HE IS NOT HIMSELF USING HIS MARK AT THIS MOMENT, BUT BECAUSE HIS EYES ARE COVERED WITH A STRIP OF CLOTH. DHULYN REACHES OUT A HAND BUT STOPS WELL SHORT OF TOUCHING HIM—EVEN IF SHE COULD. DOES A BLINDFINDER STILL HAVE HISMARK?
“WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?” WINTER-ASH ASKS.
“FRIENDS OF MINE.”
“YOU HAVE FRIENDS?”
THIS TIMEDHULYN RECOGNIZES THE NOTE OF LONGINGIN THE OTHER WOMAN’S VOICE, AND SHE TURNS TO LOOK AT THEM MORE CLOSELY.
“THESE VISIONS ARE FOR YOU, TO HELP YOU FIND YOUR KILLER. DO THEY TELL YOU ANYTHING USEFUL?”
“YOU ARE SURE IT IS THE FUTURE WE SEE?” DHULYN TURNS, AND SHE IS STANDING ON A ROCKY OUTCROP, THE THREE ESPADRYNI WOMAN ARRANGED AROUND HER. SHE FEELS HER HEART LIFT, AND SHE LOOKS AROUND, SMILING. THIS IS WHAT SHE HAS SEEN AND FELT BEFORE, WHEN SHE WAS WITH THE WHITE SISTERS OF MORTAXA. COLORS ARE SHARPER, SCENTS CRISPER, AND SHE CAN FEEL THE COOLNESS OF THE AIR ON HER SKIN, ASIF SHE EXPERIENCES THEM HERSELF, NOT MERELY AS A WATCHER. AS IF THEVISION HAS NOW A REALITY IT CANNOT HAVE WHEN SHESEES ALONE.
SHE LOOKS OVER AND SEES THE ESPADRYNI WOMEN DIRECTLY, STANDING BEHIND HER, ARMS AROUND EACH OTHER’ S WAISTS IN THE FIRST FREELY AFFECTIONATE GESTURE SHE HAS EVER SEEN FROM THEM. SHE LOOKS INTO THEIR FACES. AT FIRST SHE ISN’T SURE, BUT THEN SHE SEES THEIR SMILES ARE DIFFERENT, AND THERE IS LIGHT, WARMTH, HUMOR, AND EVEN HOPE IN THEIR EYES. DHULYN SWALLOWS AND BLINKS BACK THE MOISTURE THAT FORMS IN HER OWN EYES. THIS IS THE SAME PHENOMENON THAT HAD GOVERNED THEVISIONS OF THE WHITE SISTERS OF THE MORTAXA. THOSE WOMEN, SUFFERERS FROM THE WHITE DISEASE AND WITH THE MINDS OF CHILDREN, HAD BEEN THEIR ADULT SELVES WHILE IN THE WORLD OF VISIONS. HERE THE ESPADRYNI WOMEN, ALSO, ARE WHOLE AND UNBROKEN.
“SO, YOU SEE HOW IT IS FOR US. THOUGH THE WORLD OFVISIONS IS NO REFUGE,” WINTER-ASH SAYS. “WE CANNOT STAY HERE, WHERE THERE IS NEITHER FOOD NOR DRINK. THE OTHERS WOULD NOT FEED OUR BODIES.”
“ANYMORE THAN WE WOULD FEED THEIRS, WERE OUR POSITIONS REVERSED,” SAYS THE SHORTER WOMAN. WINTER-ASH HUGS HER.
“HERE ARE NIGHT-SKY,” SHE SAYS. “AND FEATHER-FLIGHT. OUR HEARTS ARE FULL TO MEET YOU FINALLY, DHULYN WOLFSHEAD.”
“WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU? TO ALL THE MARKED,” DHULYN ASKS. “HAVE YOU EVER SEEN?”
“LOOK, WE WILL SHOW YOU.” WINTER-ASH GESTURES, ANDDHULYN FOLLOWS THE SWEEP OF THE YOUNG WOMAN’S HAND UNTIL SHE IS STANDING ONCE MORE IN THE ROOM SHE HAS SEEN SO MANY TIMES. HERE IS THE MAGE WITH HIS PALE, CLOSE-CROPPED HAIR. HE IS ON HIS KNEES; HE BOWS HIS HEAD, HIS HANDS COVERING HIS FACE WITH THEIR JADE GREEN EYES. DHULYN, EXCEPT IT ISN’T DHULYN HERE, IT IS SOMEONE ELSE IN THE PART SHE USUALLY PLAYS. THIS SOMEONE ELSE LIFTS HIS SWORD HIGH AND STRIKES. AS THE BLADE ENTERS THEMAGE’S FLESH, THE FLESH TURNS TO STONE AND SHATTERS, EXPLODING INTO A P
ALE GREEN DUST THAT BLANKS THE VISION OUT . . .
“THERE, YOU SEE? THAT IS WHAT WE ARE SHOWN, OVER AND OVER, WHEN WE ASK TO SEE WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO US. ALWAYS THE ROOM, THE MIRROR, AND OURCHAMPION DEFEATING THEGREEN SHADOW. THE FINE DUST THAT OBSCURES ALL AND PREVENTS US FROM SEEING WHY, HOW, WEMARKED BECAME WHAT WE BECAME.”
DHULYN SHAKES HER HEAD. “THAT IS NOT WHAT HAPPENED IN OUR WORLD.”
“YOUSAW IT? HOW WAS IT DIFFERENT?”
“I DIDSEE IT, YES, BUTI WAS ALSO THERE, AT THE END.”
“HOW CAN THAT BE? THE GREEN SHADOW IS WHAT CAUSED THE FALL OF THE CAIDS, AND YOU ARE NOT SO OLD AS THAT, SURELY.”THE THREE WOMEN SMILE AT HER, SHAKING THEIR HEADS.
“IN MY WORLD THE GREEN SHADOW WAS NOT DEFEATED QUICKLY, BUT APPEARED AND REAPPEARED. WHEN IT WAS FINALLY DEFEATED,” SHE WAVES HER HAND AT WHERE THE VISION REPLAYS AROUND THEM, “THIS IS NOT WHAT HAPPENED.”
“IN WHAT MANNER WAS IT DIFFERENT?”
“HAVE YOU SEEN THE MAGE WHEN HIS EYES ARE THE BLUE OF OLD ICE?” THEY NOD. “THAT IS THE REAL MAGE, THE ONE WHO CAN READ THE BOOK—”
“WHAT BOOK?”
DHULYNLOOKS AROUND, BUT AT THAT MOMENT THEGREEN DUST HAS EXPLODED, AND THERE IS NOTHING OF THE ROOM TO BE SEEN. “THERE IS A SPELL BOOK ON THE MAGE’S TABLE,” SHE SAYS. “IT IS HOW THE SHADOW WAS CALLED. AND THE MAGE CAN READ THE BOOK, AND ...” DHULYN’S VOICE DIES AWAY. THE VISION IS REPEATING ONCE MORE AND SHE CAN SEE THE DESK, BUT IT IS BARE, THERE IS NO BOOK UPON IT. ONCE AGAIN THE SWORD FALLS, AND THEGREEN SHADOW SHATTERS INTO DUST.
“WHERE DOES THE DUST GO?” SHE ASKS.
WINTER-ASH BRUSHES AT HERSELF AND THEN AT THE AIR, BUT THE DUST DOES NOT DISPERSE. SHE CANNOT TOUCH IT; IT IS AS IF THEY WERE NOT THERE. “WE CANNOTSEE BEYOND THIS MOMENT .”
“HAVE YOU EVER ASKED HOW YOU MAY BE MADE WHOLE AGAIN?” DHULYN SEES FROM THEIR PATIENT LOOKS THAT OF COURSE THEY HAVE. “AND WHAT WERE YOU SHOWN THEN?”
Path of the Sun: A Novel of Dhulyn and Parno Page 28
