He dropped his waterskin and pack – they would only slow him down – and started north, already wishing he could have brought the horse out with him.
CHAPTER 18
Leading the Blind
“Are you sure this is Eiras?” Gialyn asked as he slid down off Lyduk’s back. “You said there were a lot of islands, and it is nearly dark.”
“Oh, this is Eiras.” The dragon nodded towards the road a few paces ahead of where they had landed. “Only the Circle of Twelve insists on roads that straight.”
Even in the low light, Gialyn could see what Lyduk meant by “straight.” He could not have drawn a line that true. “How far is it to this… Bhail?”
“Well,” Lyduk said, “If it were day, I could point you to the mountain. Go read the sign.”
“Sign? What sign?”
“All crossroads in Eiras have mile markers. Go and read what it says on that stone over there.”
Gialyn squinted; he could barely see the stone. Checking the ground before he placed a foot down, he slowly made his way over to it. The rock did indeed have markings on it, but Gialyn couldn’t read them. “I think it’s in the old tongue. Either that, or they speak a different language here.”
Brea moved to his side. “It says ‘Bhail – half a day by foot, no carts.’”
“How did you... It doesn’t say that at all. There are only three marks on it.
Brea grinned. Obviously, she was about to make him look stupid, again.
“All stones mark the distance to Bhail, so the destination doesn’t need to be on it. The half sun” – she pointed at a mark that, now she had mentioned it, did look like a sun cut in half – “means half a day. The two lines mean ‘two feet,’ in other words, walking. If it were a wheel, it would mean by cart; if it had four lines, it would mean by horse. There, the wheel with a line through it means you can’t get to Bhail by cart on this road, probably because of the mountain pass being too narrow.”
Gialyn was impressed. Oh, he would have got it, eventually, but… “Very good, Brea,” he said, nodding. “So, do we camp for the night? I don’t much like the idea of crossing a mountain in the dark.”
Brea shook her head. “We have already lost time by travelling too far south. Yes, I know, Lyduk; you can’t help the winds.” She raised her hand to the dragon, probably to stop him talking. She was becoming very bossy. “Nevertheless, it has put us half a day behind and there’s still half a day’s travel before we’re done. I would bet Vila is already in Bhail. We can’t afford to leave it another day.”
Brea said all that with the absolute certainty no one would argue with her, Gialyn noticed. She indeed had changed. It was as if she were ten years older – no, fifty. Brea sounded more like his Grandmother Re’adh than a girl his age. What would she be like in another fifty years?
Gialyn agreed. But… “It’ll do us no good if someone breaks a leg.”
“We can use a lamp, Gialyn,” Ealian said. Elspeth’s brother had been himself for their journey across the ocean, albeit a very quiet version. Gialyn didn’t know what Alacin was up to; it was unusual for the Raic living in Ealian’s head to stay quiet for this long, especially considering where they were. As for Ealian, he was another one who was changing, another one who seemed to be growing older before Gialyn’s eyes. “There’s nobody around that would notice the light. Besides, we are not the enemy of these people. Why should we hide?”
Brea nodded. “That’s very true, Ealian. Until we see Vila, we are just merchants. If what Tor said is true, then these folk are very friendly. We shouldn’t have any problems getting into Bhail.”
No problems? Gialyn wasn’t so sure. Chasing a witch into a city full of witches! How can there not be a problem? Still, if they could use a lamp, then there was no point waiting around until morning. “Fine,” he said. “What are the dragons going to do while we’re gone?” He was thinking about how they would get home but didn’t want to admit as much.
“This is Northern Eiras,” Lyduk said. “Dragons are hardly unusual. We’ll wait around by that lake down there. I don’t know about Ban, but I’m looking forward to doing some fishing and lounging about for a few days. That trip was tiring.”
Ban nodded. “Lounging, yes, but I’d prefer a goat or two.”
Brea sniffed. “If you’re going hunting, just be careful whose livestock it is that you’re stealing. There won’t be very many wild animals on an island this small, and I don’t want to come back to a mob of angry dragon hunters.”
Gialyn held back a laugh. But Ban looked like he could spit rocks. Yes, she was definitely turning into Grandmother Re’adh.
Ealian ignored the banter, and quietly gathered his belongings. Arfael was already waiting by the road, with a stern look on his face – what was wrong with him?
Brea led the way. It wasn’t long before the dragons passed out of sight behind them. Lyduk had started for the lake as soon as Gialyn and the others set off, followed a minute later by a less than enthusiastic Ban. Maybe he wanted to go hunting right away. He could not have been that hungry.
The road of hard-packed gravel, bordered on either side by raised stone edging, felt strange under Gialyn’s feet. It wasn’t the road itself – most towns had at least one decent street – it was more where it was. Why build something so good, so permanent, out in the middle of nowhere? This Witches Council, the rulers of this island, so Brea had said, must have money to waste. What would the city be like if this much time and effort had been spent on what was no more than a country lane?
Clouds filled the sky and, for once on this long journey, there was a chill in the air. It might even rain. Although that was doubtful. The wind was from the east; most of the bad weather came from the Southern Ocean.
Rain? The Southern Ocean? Gods, I’m beginning to sound like Olam.
Looking either side of the road, Gialyn couldn’t see which crops were growing in the wide fields. Although the unmistakeable sound of rustling told him it was probably wheat. He could definitely smell that sweet, nutty aroma, mixed in with the dry air. There were blossoms, too, somewhere. Nothing distinctive, but he was sure, if it were daytime, he would see the hillside covered in flowers.
The darkness made a tight circle of the light from Brea’s lantern; it barely stretched to either side of the road. It was frustrating. Gialyn wanted to see this Witches’ Island, but as it was, he could barely make out the Bhail Mountain, and that was less than ten miles away, if the waystone was to be believed.
Still, it wasn’t long before the sky lightened. But not because the clouds cleared: the lights from the city made a halo around the mountain peak.
“It’s still ten miles,” Gialyn told Brea. “Are you sure that stone said half a day? At this rate, it will be midnight before we have reached the mountain.”
“It’s not ten miles,” Brea replied in a curt tone. “That mountain isn’t that high; it’s barely a big hill, really. We’ll be in the city by midnight, or just past. I’m sure we’ll find an inn still open.”
“An inn? I thought we were going straight to this temple.”
“In the middle of the night?” Brea shook her head slowly. “That wouldn’t be wise. We’d likely be arrested.”
“Well, if we can’t do anything tonight, then why all the rush?”
“Because Vila can’t do anything, either. And I want to be there in the morning, and not arrive in the middle of the afternoon, which is what would have happened if we’d stayed the night with the dragons.”
Gialyn had to admit she made sense, although he wasn’t going to tell Brea as much. She was behaving far too much like the leader as it was; praise would likely make her more annoying.
Along with her change in attitude, the young Dragon Oracle – he still didn’t know all that that entailed – had changed her look, too. No more of the country girl clothes of wide skirts and shawl. She was dressed more like Elspeth: soft-leather breeches, snug tunic, and leather boots. She even had a knife at her hip. All she needed
was the bow strapped across her shoulder and she would look like Elspeth’s sister, albeit a shorter version. She did have a staff, though; maybe she was copying Olam, too.
“Is that… magic?” Gialyn asked her.
“Is what magic?” Her eyes followed Gialyn’s finger to her staff. “No, of course not, it’s a shepherd’s pole. Makes a good quarterstaff, though. Coln Brewer gave me a few lessons a while back. You’d be surprised how much damage one of these can do.”
Gialyn creased his brow. He couldn’t imagine Brea fighting anybody, never mind she had brought a stick for that very purpose. Had the shepherd had taught her how to use it? What was it his father used to say? ‘There’s nothing more dangerous than thinking you know how to use a weapon?’ Gialyn had spent four years learning how to fight with knives, and even now, he wouldn’t flaunt his talent. “Are you planning on fighting Kel’madden with your stick?” he asked. Maybe this Dragon Oracle thing was going to her head.
“Of course not, but it’s better than nothing.” She tapped the stick on the gravel and swung it out in front of her. “I doubt Bausamon would appreciate me using the power to settle an argument with a barmaid. This… stick might well prove useful.”
Bausamon? That’s what Alacin had called the White Dragon – the massive beast that had come to the rescue the last time Vila had captured Elspeth. What did Brea know…? What was he thinking; a Dragon Oracle would know plenty about Bausamon. He wouldn’t appreciate her using the Power. Can she talk to him?
“Why haven’t you asked him for help?” Gialyn asked her. He heard Arfael stumble behind him, and Ealian coughed.
“You don’t ask the Guardian of Arenthenia for help, Gialyn,” Brea said, giving him her don’t-you-know-anything look. “At least I don’t, or rather, can’t. Tamson asked for his help, yes, but that was because you were in the Tunnels of Aldregair. Parts of that place are very close to the Spirit World.”
That was a shame. The White Dragon had certainly made short work of the Kel’madden back in the tunnels. Gialyn suppressed a sigh of disappointment and turned his gaze back on the mountain. Brea was right; it wasn’t very high. Maybe they would make it to Bhail by midnight. The thought of a bath and a warm bed made Gialyn notice how tired he was. He wished it wasn’t so dark. Their journey wouldn’t be over any the sooner, but he would have liked to at least see the road ahead, see how far it was, instead of guessing.
They continued in relative silence for the better part of an hour, until the once straight road began to rise and twist to the west. The mountain, despite not being very high, loomed above them, still surrounded by the halo of light from Bhail. Another half an hour, and the road changed from a hard-packed gravel to a stoney mountain path. The path hugged the high slope above a valley. In front, Gialyn could see a spur stretching out to the south. Again, it wasn’t very high. The light from the city cut a sharp line across the top. The path they were on was leading them up to the point where the spur split off from the mountain. Gialyn had hoped there might be a tunnel. Still, one last climb, the city couldn’t be far now, not if those bright lights were any indication.
The path was steep. More than once, Gialyn wished he had a staff to help him to the top. Struggling with his pack, and pushing off his knees on every other step, he remembered the Spring Feast and the Hill Climb contest he had won. Of course, this wasn’t a competition, but the burning in his legs was all too familiar. Brea strode ahead, seemingly oblivious, showing hardly any effort at all. Arfael wasn’t far behind her. Only Ealian appeared to be in worse shape than he was. Elspeth’s brother had begun breathing heavily and complaining as soon as they started up the spur. Something about, “why couldn’t the dragons have dropped them closer?” Strangely enough, Gialyn felt pleased to hear the man complain; it was the most “Ealian-like” thing the emissary’s son had said since leaving Bren’alor. Still, it didn’t take long to reach the crest. After a few more minutes of effort, Gialyn joined Brea and Arfael at the top of the spur.
What he saw took away what little breath he had left in him. Below, the city was a sea of pale blue light. The glow merged together at the horizon, but in the foreground, barely a mile from where he was standing, the streets criss-crossed the land like shimmering blue rivers. It was a city. The island may have been small, but Bhail was half again as big as Bailryn. If that wasn’t impressive enough, the sheer size of the city paled in comparison to the illuminated towers that stood at its centre. Even standing high on the spur, Gialyn had to look up to see the top of the centre tower. He could do nothing but shake his head at the wonder of it all.
“How…? Where’s all the light coming from?” he asked.
“They burn gas,” Brea replied. She kept her voice level, probably trying to make light of it, but Gialyn detected a croak in her words. “Gas, they get it from the peatlands to the south, somehow. Tor mentioned something about it, but… I had no idea it would be this…” Brea waved her arm to take in the view.
Gialyn nodded. There were a few gas lamps in Bailryn, but nothing like this, and that gas came from the cattle farms, somehow. They get the gas from peat? “There’s peatland in western Geddy,” Gialyn said. “Why don’t we do this?”
Brea shrugged. “Maybe we will, one day. But—”
“Enough with the fantasies,” Ealian said. His voice was flat, matter-of-fact. “Can we just get down there? I want a bed and a bath.”
Brea looked back at Ealian and snorted. “Can’t we rest for a minute without your complaining, Ealian Tanner? The morning wouldn't come any faster if we had run all the way.” She turned her gaze back to the city. “We have plenty of time. I doubt they would keep those lamps burning if the taverns and inns were closed.”
Ealian pushed past and started down the slope towards the city. “That may be so, but I still want a bath and a bed,” he said over his shoulder. Well, maybe Ealian’s complaints weren’t all that endearing. The man certainly knew how to put a stick in the wheel.
Before long, the narrow path joined with a wider road that ran north-south along the edge of the city. They followed that for half a mile and then turned left towards what looked like one of the main gates. Unlike Bailryn, nothing had been built outside the three span high walls. Deep crenellations ran along the top, but Gialyn couldn’t see any guards on duty. But that meant nothing. With this much light, a single tower could probably cover half a mile of the wall.
“Don’t forget,” Brea mumbled, as they approached the gate. “I’m a merchant dealing in herbs. Don’t say anything unless you’re asked, and keep your answers short.”
“Herb trader,” Gialyn said. “When did you decide that?”
“At the cave. Don’t you listen to— Oh, of course, you weren’t there, were you?” She stopped and turned to him. “We agreed that I should pretend to be a merchant, and as I know about herbs, it seemed the obvious choice. Don’t you worry; you’re just here as a guard. They won’t expect you to know anything.”
“A guard? Me? They’re going to know I’m not a guard.”
“And why would they think that?” Brea said, looking him up and down. “You’re tall, broad, you have knives on your belt; you make a good guard, albeit a young one.”
Gialyn felt a blush. He squared his shoulders. A guard. Yes, I can do that.
Brea grinned at him before turning away. Gialyn heard her mumbling something that sounded sarcastic, “Men” and “hair on their chests” was definitely part of it. For a moment there, she had sounded halfway respectful of him. Why ask him to come? She apparently thought she could manage alone, and what was this thing he was supposed to do?
A guard stepped down from the small gatehouse and stood in the middle of the road. Another made a point of making his presence known but stayed in the doorway. Both wore blue tunics and dark breeches. A shortsword and dagger hung from their belts. Gialyn saw two helmets hanging on a peg inside the gatehouse, and a rack, holding four long spears, fastened to the wall.
Brea didn’t slow down. She headed st
raight to the guard standing in the road. “Good evening, sir.” She bobbed a shallow curtsy before continuing. “My name is Affrair Noial. I’ve come to trade my herbs.” Turning, she gestured towards Ealian. “These are my guardsmen, Ealian and Gialyn, and this is my partner, Coln Brewen.”
She might have mentioned she would be using her mother’s name, and… uh… Arfael was now a shepherd from Bren’alor, apparently. Something else that must have been agreed in his absence. Still, it made sense; if these folks were looking for anyone, it would be Brea and Arfael. After all, she was the Dragon Oracle, and he the Cinnè’arth. Ealian was biting his lip. Did he think something was funny, or was he trying not to ask questions? Gialyn found himself hoping that Alacin would take over the man’s mind, at least until they were past the guards and safely inside the city – if it was safe.
“It takes four of you to sell herbs?” the guard said. He scratched his ear and glanced at his friend before looking over Arfael’s pack.
Brea jumped in front of him. “Yes sir, the best herbs Northern Aleras’moya can offer.” She fumbled inside Arfael’s pack and pulled out a few small jars. “Kalli, ousblud, tier ash; we even have some of our rarer specimens; kharoe, liet, reap seed, all the best quality and excellent prices. We can guarantee delivery within a month!”
Gialyn had to admit, she made selling herbs sound exciting.
The guard looked over the jars Brea was holding. Sucking a breath through his teeth, he said, “Uh… we’re not really supposed to let people in at this time of night, but if you could see your way to sparing us a little kalli? The nights can be tiresome, and all we have is Toyan tea.”
Brea smiled at him. “Of course, sir, I can spare half a dozen wraps.” She fished inside one of the small containers and handed him six tightly wrapped envelopes of kalli. The guard looked over his shoulder towards the gatehouse before accepting them. He nodded, and the other guard opened the small door set into the two-span-high gate.
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