“So your father was the only reason the Travelers kept Traveling?”
Seraph shook her head. “No—it wouldn’t have worked if they’d really wanted to settle down. It was hard enough for me to stay here—and I would have followed your father through the Shadowed’s Realm if I’d had to. Staying was more difficult. Travelers are well named.”
Jes followed her silently as she began her task again. Jes was good at silence.
“I remember going to two Gathers as a child,” she said, taking out another mermora and setting it upright. “There were two hundred and thirty mermori held by just over two hundred clans at the first one. I can remember my mother fretting about how few there were. She died before I went to the second Gather, when I was thirteen. There were fewer than two hundred then—and many clans carried more than one.”
The largest mermora she had saved for last, having left an extensive corner of the meadow for it. “The mermori were too dangerous to allow them to exist without safeguards, so Hinnum spelled them so that, eventually, they would find their way into the hands of the eldest of the closest relatives of those who had died and left the mermori lost.”
“Mother,” said Jes, after a bit. “There are two hundred twenty-four mermori here.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I’ve been acquiring them a few at a time since I married your father. Today I bought eighty-three from a tinker.”
“Eighty-three,” he said, startled into losing, for a moment, the aura of danger he carried. “How did you pay for them? They are solid silver and worth more than—”
“People don’t always see that they are silver,” she said, trying to pace off the area for the largest of them again—she kept losing count. “Sometimes they appear to be iron or even wood. Most people dislike them on sight. I paid six coppers for them, and the merchant I bought them from will shortly forget exactly what it was I bought, except that he came out ahead on the deal.”
“Ah,” he said and walked beside her for a while, gradually blending into the darkness until she couldn’t see him if she looked straight on.
She caught glimpses of him sometimes when she wasn’t quite looking. Sometimes she saw a man who looked like her husband, but more dangerous. At others she saw a dark animal that prowled on four legs. Sometimes if she turned her head and looked at him directly for too long, he disappeared into the night. It was only illusion, she knew, though he could take on shapes of animals if he chose. But illusion or not, it was disconcerting.
“What do they do?” he asked finally.
She set the last one in. “I’ll show you. Come with me.”
The meadow was set on a rise and she took her son to the highest point. She had never done this with so many before. At the Gathers, the elders from all the families would stand in a circle and chant together.
She held out both hands and shouted imperiously, “Ishavan shee davenadre hovena Hinnumadraun.”
It had been so long since she’d allowed herself this much magic. She did only a little magic now and then—when they planted their crops, and when she warded the farm to keep the more dangerous creatures of the mountains away.
Even after so long, it came eagerly to her call, thrumming from her bones to the earth, reverberating through the dirt, rotting vegetation, and newborn sprigs of grass.
Jes let out a startled snarl as the meadow lit up with the windows of two hundred and twenty-four houses. Some were smaller than their cabin, but most were as large as the largest of the houses in Redern. By chance she’d put two in such a way that they blended into each other, sharing a wall—it looked so right that Seraph wondered if the houses might have stood in just such a relative location in Colossae. In the very corner of the meadow stood a small castle. The architecture of the houses was distinctly foreign, the windows open and rounded, the roofs covered with some kind of green pottery tiles.
“It’s all right,” she reassured Jes, though her eyes were held by the castle. “They are all illusion. The wizards could take only the most necessary of articles because they could not risk giving warning to the enemy before they fled. They couldn’t take any of their libraries—So Hinnum created the mermori, which remember the homes of the wizards as they stood in Colossae so long ago. Come with me.”
She led her son to one of the smaller ones, a brick-faced home no bigger than Alinath’s bakery, though much more gracile. Ebony wood doors were worn near the latch, giving testimony of the age of the building. “This was the mermora my father carried from his father. It belonged to Isolda the Silent, who died when they sealed the city.” Seraph pulled the door latch, felt the metal cool against her fingers. The door opened with a soft groan, and she stepped inside.
“Illusion?” Jes questioned, stepping in beside her. The light from Isolda’s oil lamps showed a young man rather than a beast. “I can smell oil and herbs—some I know, like anise, henbane, but there are many I can’t identify.”
“Hinnum was a very great illusionist. Legend says he was four hundred years old when the city fell,” she said, trailing her fingers over the familiar shawl that hung neatly on the back of a chair as if it only waited for Isolda to return from some errand.
“But all that this is, is illusion.” She turned to her son. “If it is raining outside and you come in, you will not feel the rain—but when you walk out you will be wet. If you are freezing to death and come in, you’ll feel warm and still die from the cold.”
“How long ago did the city die?” asked Jes, touching a carved table.
For a moment Seraph allowed herself to see the house anew, recognizing how alien it appeared to him. Perhaps a lord’s house would be furnished with wooden tables and shelves polished like the surface of a windless lake, but no dwelling in Redern held such treasures.
“I’m not certain,” she replied. “It was long before the Shadowed came to rule—and that was about six hundred years ago if the stories crediting him with a hundred-year reign are correct. Colossae was a city with over a million people, three times the size of Taela, and only the Travelers remember its name.”
“Where did it lie?”
“I don’t know,” answered Seraph. “It doesn’t matter. The city is protected against intruders.”
“Is?”
“As far as I know the city is still there—if it weren’t, the Stalker would be free. The people died along with the less tangible things that make up a community and the bones of the city seal the Stalker’s prison.
Jes turned from where he was examining one of the walls, which had a mural depicting a forest scene. “If this is all illusion, then why were the ancient wizards so concerned about the mermori?”
Seraph smiled and headed through a narrow doorway. The room beyond was twice as big as the first room and the walls were lined with shelves of books.
“This is what they tried to save—within these buildings is all that they knew of magic. But many of the languages the books are written in were lost. I know only four or five. My father knew more—and I fear they are lost with him, and with the others who are gone, because I hold almost half the mermori that were made.”
CHAPTER 4
“Go catch some fish for dinner, you two.” Seraph made shooing motions at Lehr and Rinnie. “I’ll take care of the breakfast dishes and getting the plowing equipment ready. There’ll be work enough for us all in the coming weeks, and we’ve but little salt meat left. I for one will be glad of some river trout. You two pack a lunch and catch what you can.”
“What about the stew we made with Jes’s rabbit yesterday, Mother?” said Lehr. “There’s plenty left. Checking the harness won’t take all day; we should get started on the fields as soon as we can.”
“Tomorrow is soon enough for plowing,” Seraph replied firmly. “Gura ate the last of the stew this morning.” Or he would as soon as she fed it to him. She needed time and quiet to think.
“Papa would not leave you unprotected,” said Lehr, clearly torn between duty and pleasure.
Rin
nie tugged at his sleeve. “I think Gura is enough to scare off anyone—you know how he is with strangers. And how often do people come here?”
Lehr clenched his jaw. “I haven’t seen Jes this morning,” he said.
“He spent the night in the woods,” Seraph replied. “I expect he’ll be back this evening. If you see him, you might tell him I’m baking bread today.”
“He’ll be home then for sure,” said Rinnie. She’d already collected cheese and crackers in a cloth and was busy tying it together. “Come on, Lehr. If we don’t get out soon, the fish won’t bite.”
His resolve broke. He kissed Seraph on the forehead, grabbed his sister’s arm, and made for the barn, where they stored the fishing gear.
Seraph smiled after them and turned back to wash up after breakfast and begin mixing dough for bread.
“Aren’t we going to the river?” asked Rinnie, lifting her skirts to scramble up a rise behind Lehr. It wasn’t often that she got to join in on fishing expeditions. Usually it was just Lehr, or sometimes Lehr and Jes. When she went, she had to go with Papa and Mother.
“Not first. I thought we’d try the creek. Jes showed me a good place where he says the trout like to sun. I haven’t tried it yet, but—”
“But if Jes says it’s good, we’re sure to catch something,” replied Rinnie happily.
The soft leather sole of her shoe skidded on a rock, and Lehr turned and caught her shoulder to steady her before she fell.
“Be a little more careful,” Lehr said sternly. “The rocks are still wet with snow runoff here. I don’t want to bring you back with too much damage.”
Rinnie made a face at him behind his back then paid strict attention to her feet so he wouldn’t have to help her again. He wasn’t a bad older brother—if he’d just quit trying to be Papa.
Rinnie watched her brother’s back as he navigated the zigzag route through old downed trees. Hard muscle filled last year’s shirt and stretched the shoulders taut. He’d need a new shirt soon. She sighed; she knew who would get to sew that shirt. Mother could sew, but she didn’t like it.
She wondered when they’d meet up with Jes. She’d never gone out in the woods without him that he’d not come upon her sooner or later. Lehr liked to say it was the most dependable thing about Jes.
Jes worked hard, but he was as apt as not to leave the plow in the middle of the field, horse and all, if the whim took him. He was always worse in the springtime. Papa said it was because the winter snows kept him too confined. By midsummer Jes would cut down his treks to once a se’nnight or so, rather than every day. Last year at harvest he’d worked almost the whole time.
Ahead of her, Lehr turned off the deer trail they’d been following and started down the steep side into a ravine and began skidding downhill. About halfway down he had to slow and pick his way through the underbrush that lined most of the lower ground. The branches caught at Rinnie’s skirts until she fell some distance behind Lehr, who was already off the slope and starting up the valley. She tried to hurry and ended up with her hair tangled around the thorns of a wild rose.
“Wait up,” she called, and began working the errant strand free with impatient jerks that did as much to worsen the mess as to free her.
“Wait up?” said an interested male voice from the ridge opposite the one she and Lehr had traveled to get here.
She jerked her gaze up to see Storne, the miller’s son, with a couple of the boys he ran with peering down at her. Papa always said that the miller gave Storne too little to do. Leave a young man without a task, and he’ll make mischief instead, he’d said.
Then Papa’d looked at her and told her to stay away from Storne when he had other boys with him, no matter how polite he was when they met at the mill, for a boy out to impress his friends will do things he wouldn’t do on his own. The boys Storne had with him today were no prizes: Olbeck, the steward’s son, and Lukeeth, whose father was one of the wealthier merchants from town.
Rinnie drew the knife out of her belt sheath and cut her hair, stepping out of the bushes. She made no move to leave, because you never run from predators. The knife she kept in her hand as if she’d forgotten about it.
“Rinnie?” Lehr called impatiently. He must not have heard Storne, who’d spoken no louder than he had to.
“Here,” she called.
She didn’t want to start trouble by implying that she was worried about Storne and the boys who watched her so she didn’t say anything more, but something in her voice must have alerted Lehr because he came crashing through the trees at a run. His eyes roved over the strands of hair dangling from the rose bush and traveled uphill to Storne and his friends.
“Should have tied your hair up,” he snapped.
Relief gave way to hurt that he would criticize her in front of such an audience.
“Well, if it ain’t the little Traveler boy,” said Lukeeth, sloe-eyed and slightly taller than Storne.
“Does your father know you walked out on your tutor again?” replied Lehr with such mildness that Rinnie’s jaw wanted to drop, especially after the nasty way he’d blamed this on her. Lehr had Mother’s quick temper and over the last couple of years, “boy” had become an epithet.
“My tutor wouldn’t dare tell him,” Lukeeth laughed. “Then I’d tell Father what the silly ass keeps in his water flask and he’d be out like the last one. That your little sister? Another Traveler’s brat, just like you.”
“Pretty thing,” said Olbeck casually.
Rinnie began to get really worried. Lehr was tough; her father had taught him a few tricks, and her as well for that matter. But Olbeck was almost a foot taller than Storne—who was as big as Lehr—and he didn’t have that soft look that most of the village boys had. She couldn’t read his tone, but it sent the other boys off into laughter that sounded more predatory than happy.
“I’d heard you’d taken to running with scavengers, Storne,” chided Lehr before turning to the ringleader. “Olbeck, I thought you’d decided to stay out of the woods after you ran into Jes that time last fall.”
A flush rose in Olbeck’s face. Lukeeth snickered but subsided when Olbeck glanced at him.
“Predators, not scavengers,” said Olbeck. “You’re just disappointed that Storne decided he’d rather hunt with the wolves than graze with sheep like you, Traveler’s brat,” he sneered. “As for your brother—if I’d realized he was crazy I’d have just slit his throat that day, a mercy killing, like I’d do to any other poor beast.”
Until Olbeck’s words reminded her, Rinnie’d almost forgotten that Storne and Lehr had once been best friends. But something had happened several years ago, Lehr wouldn’t say what, and he’d even quit going with Papa to the mill.
“I’ll tell Jes you’d like to meet him again,” said Lehr pleasantly. “I’ll relay your exact words to him. I’m sure he’ll be impressed—since you’ve never so much as gutted a cow. Rinnie, why don’t you go home and let us talk a bit.”
“No, Rinnie,” said Olbeck. He smiled at her, “I think you’d better just stay there. The two of us can have a conversation after we’ve finished… conversing with your brother.”
Lehr turned to her and whispered, “Run, Rinnie, now. Don’t stop until you get home.”
Knowing that without her there, the other boys wouldn’t be as interested in fighting, she fled back up the hill as fast as she could without looking back, the small knife cold in her fist. Home wasn’t so far away. If she could get within hearing distance she could call Gura. Even a grown man would think twice before taking on the big dog.
She heard the dull thud of fist on flesh before she topped the ravine. But she couldn’t worry about the fight now because at least one of them had gotten past Lehr and was trailing her up the side of the ridge. She could hear him crashing through the brush like an ox.
When she reached the trail and her footing was more certain she glanced back and saw that it was Olbeck who’d taken up the chase, and she stretched out to run as fast as she e
ver had.
With Olbeck following her, Lehr had a chance. Storne was the only one of the boys who had enough muscle to give Lehr a real fight. Her brother was tough as an old wolf; he’d use the rough terrain to his advantage.
The trail’s upward slope robbed her legs of speed and her chest of breath, but she didn’t dare slow down. Her eyes were focused firmly on the ground in front of her. When someone reached out and snagged her off her feet she thought it was Olbeck.
She kicked him once, before she realized it was Jes and stilled, gasping for breath. He set her down gently, the expression on his face different than she’d ever seen it. She didn’t have time to understand what the difference was before he stepped in front of her and turned his attention to Olbeck.
“Thought I told you stay out of my woods,” said Jes, only it didn’t sound like Jes at all. Menace clung to his voice and promise. The familiar singsong softness was gone as if it had never been.
“These aren’t your woods,” said Olbeck, who’d stopped a few lengths down the trail, though he didn’t sound intimidated. “My father is steward for the Sept. If these are anyone’s woods, they are mine.”
Safe behind Jes, she couldn’t see the expression on his face, but Olbeck blanched.
“Run, boy,” purred Jes. “See if you can outrun your nightmares.”
Rinnie tried to step around Jes’s shoulder, but he stepped sideways, keeping her behind him. Showing the whites of his eyes like a spooked horse, Olbeck turned and ran.
“There’re still two fighting Lehr,” Rinnie rasped and then threw up.
It was messy and nasty, as she had to gasp for air between convulsions. Jes gathered her hair out of the way and waited for her to finish.
“Ran too fast,” he said. “Lehr’s down that way?”
She spat to clear the taste out of her mouth. “Yes. Toward the fishing hole you showed him in the creek,” she said. “It’s Storne and Lukeeth.”
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