He? Well, as long as it isn’t a fighter, it should still be all right. We should still be able to handle him if Kel takes him down.
She nodded, hardly able to believe their luck. She’d assumed that they’d have to spend many nights like this - that this one was probably going to be nothing more than a rehearsal for an opportunity to come. But she reminded herself not to count on anything, and suppressed the nervous excitement that made her hands tremble and stomach clench. They didn’t have a captive yet.
“I don’t believe this - ” Darian whispered a moment later. “He’s still coming straight for us!” He paused, and puzzlement crept into his voice. “He’s following something. Kuari can’t quite see it, but there is something there. Maybe a pet escaped and he’s trying to catch it?” “A hunting dog, more like, too valuable to get away,” Keisha suggested. But out of nowhere came a strange shiver of premonition, a certainty that of all things, a dog was definitely not what was out there.
But Darian seemed satisfied with that explanation - or if he wasn’t, he didn’t say anything to her. “If it brings him this way, it’s fine with me,” he said fervently. “He’s already too far from their camp for anyone to hear if he yells; a bit more, and he’ll be so far out that the bondbirds watching the camp won’t notice anything either.”
“Even better!” That was something that had worried them both, that they’d give their plan away the instant Kel made his capture, and they’d be in trouble with their own side before they got a chance to see their plan through.
“In fact,” he added, with growing excitement, “it looks like Kel is going to be able to bring him down practically at our feet!”
Try as she might, there was nothing to really see in these dark woods except variations in the degree of darkness. She already knew that she could peer out there until she got a headache, and still see nothing. As time crawled as slowly as the ant making its way up her leg, Keisha swatted at insects and tried to be as quiet as possible while doing so, straining her ears for any sound that might signal the approach of this stranger. But when such a sign came, it wasn’t a sound but, much to her astonishment, a sight.
Out beneath the trees, out on the edge of vision, she saw light. Something out there moved lithely from bit of cover to bit of cover; something very large, and very pale, shimmering with a ghostly iridescence so faint that for a while she was half certain that the effect was nothing more than her own imagination or eyestrain. The only reason she noticed it in the first place was its movement. It certainly wasn’t human, nor was it a dog, or any other beast Keisha recognized. She didn’t get a good look at it; either it was adept at hiding itself, or it changed shape from moment to moment.
Was this what their quarry was stalking? If so, they owed it a debt. . . .
Just when it seemed that the creature was getting near enough that she’d be able to identify it, it faded into a wall of shadow, and vanished completely, while the hair on the back of her neck stood up in atavistic alarm.
But it had been visible long enough for the young barbarian following to get exactly where Kelvren wanted him.
From somewhere up above came a blood-curdling screech; the slight shadow making his way carefully through the undergrowth in the wake of the ghostly light froze, still balanced on one foot. Then he made a break for it, but it was too late.
Everyone had told Keisha that seeing Kelvren make an attack was one of the most thrilling spectacles imaginable. It was too bad that it was far too dark for her to see anything except a pair of shadow-wings for a fraction of a second, followed by a tremendous crash in the undergrowth.
“I have him!” Kel crowed happily, over the sound of hysterical screams. “Now come and tie him up!”
Darian conjured a mage-light in one hand, and stared into the sullen eyes of their captive. He looked to be just around Darian’s own age, perhaps a little younger. He was angry, frightened, and Darian would not have given a copper bit for their lives if he got a weapon in his hands.
Physically, he was a little shorter than Darian, with weathered, scratched skin that would be pale beneath his tan, and a shock of unwashed, tangled black hair. His eyes were as black as his hair, and his teeth, clenched in a grimace, had the canines filed to points. They’d tied his hands behind him, and his feet together, and sat him up against a tree trunk while they moved on to the next part of the plan.
He wasn’t going to cooperate in any way whatsoever, not that Darian cared. He doesn’t have to be cooperative in order for Tyrsell to get his language. Darian looked up at Tyrsell, who had watched the entire proceedings with intense interest. “Are you ready?”
:I am. I rather doubt that he is, however.: The dyheli snorted.:And you, Healer, are you ready?:
“As much as I can be.” Poor Keisha looked horribly nervous; this must have been so foreign to her, even though she had already undergone the process once.
“I know it’s no help to say this, but if you can relax, this should be relatively easy for you,” he told her with as comforting a smile as he could manage. “The first time is always the hardest; you’re used to it now, and you’ve had lots of practice in Mind-Gifts. It’s generally the fact that you’re resisting something so entirely new that you instinctively fear it that gives you the worst headache.”
She blinked at him as if that hadn’t occurred to her. “Oh,” was all she said, but as the hostile eyes of their prisoner went from him to her and back again, she visibly relaxed.
:Well done,: Tyrsell said with approval, and then they were both lying flat on their backs, staring up at branches and leaves reflecting the mage-light, as Kel and Tyrsell watched them with interest. Darian didn’t have more than a touch of headache this time; he hoped Keisha had fared as well.
Her first words seemed to indicate that she had. “Forty-one words for snow?” Keisha exclaimed in disbelief. “Why would anyone need all those words for different kinds of snow? Snow is snow!”
“All I care about is the words for ‘what the hell do you people think you’re doing here?’ “ Darian replied as he sat up, pleased to discover that he still had no more than a vague ache behind his forehead to show for this latest language acquisition.
The young man had not fared so well; he was still out cold.
:I took the liberty of giving him Tayledras, but not Valdemaran,: Tyrsell informed them loftily. :That way he will understand some of the negotiators and can act as a translator, but you will still have a language he does not know so that you can speak freely before him. Besides, it was a useful way to keep him from getting into mischief until you awoke.: The king-stag wrinkled his nostrils with his head high, testing the air. :If you have no further need of me, I will be off.:
“No further need, but we couldn’t be doing this without you. Thank you, Tyrsell,” Darian replied with feeling. :You are most welcome. I hope that your plan succeeds.: Tyrsell slipped away into the darkness, leaving them alone with the young barbarian who was just waking.
“What did you do to me?” he demanded angrily, his face contorting with the pain of his headache. “Is this some demon-born torture you’ve worked on me?”
“No,” Keisha said, “it only feels like one.” As the young man’s eyes widened to hear her speak his own language, she continued. “Our magics enable us to take what we wish from your mind, and it seemed useful to have command of your tongue. So, as you can see, there is nothing that you can keep secret from us, but taking your knowledge exacts a toll in pain from you and we would spare you that; you can suffer more of this, or you can answer our questions. The choice is yours.”
“Personally, I’d answer her,” Darian added sternly. “Or you’re likely to wish someone would kill you to be rid of the pain in your head. The more we take, the worse it will get.”
His face paled, and he appeared to wilt - and without that sullen, defiant expression, he looked several years younger than Darian.
“What do you want to know?” he asked, defeat written large in his expression.
“Your name, first,” Keisha said. “Hywel, son of Pedren, son of Hothgar the Ugly, son of - ” he began, obviously quite prepared to recite a lineage back to the beginning of his tribe.
“That’s enough!” Keisha interrupted, stopping him. “Hywel will do.”
“So, Hywel, why have your people fortified their camp?” Darian asked, keeping his stern expression. “We offered to treat with your people, but they are rejecting our offers with apparent hostility.”
“Because we are not fools!” the youngster retorted. “You threaten us, you come upon us with magic and warriors. Are we to simply lie down and allow you to slaughter us? Why are you so hostile to us? We had heard that the peoples of the south were hospitable and welcomed strangers!”
“You mean ’soft,’ don’t you?” Darian asked cynically, and the young man flushed, then paled. “Well, you’ve found out differently. We’ve seen your kind; we know what to expect from you. Four years ago, one of your clan war parties came down here, looting and killing, making slaves and worse out of my folk, ruining what they didn’t steal! Why shouldn’t we meet you with fighters and magic? We should have met you with fire and the sword for what you did the last time!”
He started to warm to his subject, but the young man interrupted him, with a curious look on his face. “Why do you say it was my people who did this to yours?”
“You’re from the north,” Darian replied stubbornly, anger burning in the pit of his stomach. “You look the same, barring a few decorations.”
“There are many Clans and tribes in the north, and most of them look the same to an outsider,” Hywel retorted, eyes flashing. “Nevertheless, they are not all the same. My people have done nothing to yours. It was not my people who put yours to the sword. My people,” he added proudly, “do not trade in, keep, or make slaves. Our fighters do not make up war parties to loot the wealth of others. I do not know which of the marauding tribes brought harm to you, but we are not them.”
That simple statement brought Darian to a halt; it had never occurred to him that the tribes of the north could be as different as, say, Valdemar and Karse.
“My Clan is Ghost Cat,” Hywel continued, with such pride that Darian was surprised. “And we are very like our totem. We are solitary hunters, we have our own herds. Our fighters are not thieves - they serve and protect the Clan from those who would steal our wealth. We prefer being unseen, like the Cat. None fight more bravely when we must,” he continued with bravado, “But we do not seek conflict. We walk by ourselves, seek our own path, and all places are alike to us.” He tilted his head to one side, looking at Darian curiously. “What totem did your enemies follow?”
“A bear,” Darian replied, wondering how much of Hy-wel’s speech to believe. “And the shaman bore the sign of the eclipse.”
Hywel’s eyes nearly popped with surprise. “And you drove them off? Indeed, you are either lucky beyond belief or god-touched! That is Blood Bear, and they live for battle; when they can find no enemy, they fight among themselves! Most Clans avoid them at all cost; they have even violated Midsummer Truce in one of their rages!” He dropped his voice to a whisper and looked anxiously from side to side. “Some of their warriors gained the aspect of the Great Bear itself, by venturing into the Forbidden Places with their shaman. This I know, for I saw some of the Bear Warriors, when I was still at the women’s fire. It is said that they are the ones who brought the Summer Fever out of the Forbidden Places, which they dared to enter in their madness and their search for further unnatural powers and monstrous servants.”
That seemed to clinch it; the entire speech rang of the truth, for Darian hadn’t mentioned the half-bear warriors, or the lizardlike creature that had served as one of the leaders. Further, the youngster could not possibly know that they knew about Summer Fever and how it began. That brought Darian to a momentary standstill, at a loss for what to ask next, his anger running out of him.
Keisha, however, was fully prepared to take over.
“What brought you out here in the darkness?” she asked sternly. “Why were you skulking about like one who would do ill? Were you planning to steal from us?”
“No!” Hywel said indignantly. “We are Ghost Cat, not thieves! I would not soil my honor by theft!”
“But if your people had closed themselves into their camp, why were you outside the walls, and at night?” Keisha persisted. “Did you mean to spy upon us?”
He stared at her, stubbornly, but with fear at the back of his eyes.
“I can, and will, take the knowledge from you,” she threatened. “Do you give it to me freely, or would you care to have your pain redoubled and have me gain it regardless?”
He closed his eyes, and whispered miserably, “For my brother. I came for my brother. He has the Summer Fever, and I prayed to our gods to send me a sign, to send me a guide to find one of the Wise Ones who can cure all ills. The fever has taken two of my brothers already, and I think to lose Jendey would kill our mother. I prayed and fasted, and tonight, the Ghost Cat that has led us for so long appeared to me, and led me - here - ”
Darian felt chill mixed with awe - for there had been that strange, ghostly shape leading the boy, and it had vanished utterly just before they caught him.
And what if this is the handof their god, leading him to us because of Keisha ?
He exchanged glances with Keisha, and she changed to Valdemaran. “This is a little too spooky,” she said, shaken. “I saw him following - something. Kuari saw it, too, didn’t he?”
“I know. I guess you saw what I saw?” At her nod, he shivered. “Now what?”
“If a bout of fever has started in the camp, the odds are that it’s going to cross over to us,” she replied. “But - this might be what I was hoping for. Earlier today I suggested to the Healers that if we could get a single victim outside the camp, we might be able to find a treatment without being under threat ourselves.” She shrugged. “What do you say about letting him bring his brother out, and letting me take a chance with him? I wouldn’t be in their power, and he wouldn’t dare hurt me, not after what we’ve done to him.”
“We could just go back and let the Healers make sure we haven’t caught it - ” But that would be throwing this gift back in the face of the god, who clearly intended that he and Keisha should do something. He didn’t think that would be a very politic move at this point.
“Besides,” Keisha continued, with a grimace, “There’re two more things going for this idea. First of all, this is a child we’re talking about; not even Lord Breon would object to helping a child. Secondly, we obviously have to decide right now, and we can’t afford to wait around to ask for permission. Hywel isn’t going to have a lot of time to sneak in, get his brother, and sneak back out again - and this may well be the last time he can get out.” The grimace turned into a crooked smile. “It’s easier to beg forgiveness than get permission, so I think we ought to figure on begging forgiveness.”
“You’re sure you want to go through with this?” Darian asked dubiously, trying to think of good reasons to veto the notion, but fairly sure that anything he could think of, she’d have a counter for.
She sighed. “I don’t want to, but I have to. I can’t explain it any other way, except to say that this is something that I have responsibility to handle. I was given the Healer’s Gift; it’s my duty to use it.”
But he already understood; hadn’t he said essentially the same thing to Firesong?
He drew his knife, and Hywel tried to shrink back, clearly expecting that he was about to be murdered. But when Darian slit his bonds instead and stood up, he remained seated, staring up at Darian and rubbing his wrists.
“Go!” Darian snapped, gesturing with his knife. “If you want a Wise One for your brother, go now and bring him back here - just you and him, and no one else! We have a hundred eyes in the night, and if you bring anyone else, we will not be here, and your brother will die.”
Hywel’s expression changed, from fearful to ho
peful and back again. “Is this true?” he breathed, “Do you mean this?”
“Do you believe in the guidance of your Ghost Cat?” Keisha asked softly. “I am a Wise One.”
That was enough to decide him. He sprang to his feet. “You will never regret this!” he cried. “Never! I will serve you all my days, and my spirit will defend your children and your children’s children after I am ashes!”
With that, he turned and ran off into the dark, running as surely as if his feet had eyes, and the eyes in his head were those of an owl.
Darian looked askance at Keisha. “Did we do the right thing?” he asked, suddenly unsure.
“Oh, yes,” she replied, staring into the darkness after Hywel. “We did the only thing we could all live with.”
Fifteen
“I have an idea,” Kelvren said, a few moments after Hywel had vanished into the darkness. “I hearrr the strream not farrr frrom herrre. Go therre, and wait forrr my rrrreturrn.”
He took to the air, leaving the two of them alone. Da-rian listened for a moment, then moved off to the right, the mage-light bobbing along over his head. Keisha followed him, and within a few moments, heard the sound of the stream herself.
Darian brought them to a spot on the banks of the stream, a larger version of the freshet beside their camp, which tumbled noisily over flat rocks in a series of small waterfalls. Here they found a place where moss made a thick, soft carpet beneath their feet, kept well-nourished by the spray from the stream. Keisha sat down with a sigh, and Darian did the same. “Are you sure you’re up to this?” he asked, worried for her sake. “This isn’t anything like you’ve done before.”
She licked her lips, and stared off into the darkness for a moment, wearing an expression that suggested she was testing her own resolve. “I know. And I’m not sure. But the rest of you can’t do without Nightwind, Gentian, Grenthan, and Nala, and the apprentices aren’t even as far along as I was two years ago. I thought that learning to use my Gift was going to be hard, and it was at first, but only at first. It was a lot like riding; once I knew what to do and what it felt like to do it right, it was just a matter of exercising those muscles until they were strong and didn’t hurt anymore - and I’ve been doing that a lot, as much as I could stand. Plus, I can talk to Jendey, and it’s going to be scary enough for him to be handled by a stranger. It would be worse if they couldn’t even speak to him. If not me, who else?” She made a face, as she thought of the endless wrangling in the Healers’ tent earlier that day. “Besides, the others would want to debate this idea for hours, and all the time this little boy would be getting sicker. I need to stop this fever as early as possible.”
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