But the Termigan wasn’t moved. ‘Will that save Sternwall?’ he asked Geraden in a voice like a winter wind.
‘Probably not,’ Geraden admitted. ‘It’ll take too long. Sternwall is probably doomed – unless something good happens for a change. Unless something happens to distract Eremis or Gilbur so they can’t keep translating that lava.’
‘Then I repeat,’ gritted the lord. ‘For what?’
This time, Geraden said simply, ‘You might be able to save King Joyse.’
The Termigan chewed on that for a while. Then he said harshly, ‘So you think there’s something worth saving? You think Joyse hasn’t just gone passive or anile?’ He’d been pushed too far: he was losing his calm, his inhuman self-restraint. ‘You think there’s some reason why he let those shit-eating Imagers do this to my Care?’
‘Yes,’ Terisa said at once, before the lord’s sorrow and distress became too much for her. ‘I don’t like it very well. I don’t think it’s good enough. But there is a reason.’
In a few stiff sentences, while the Termigan stared at her as if she were liceridden, she told him what Master Quillon had told her about King Joyse’s reasons.
The lord surged to his feet; almost before she was done, he snapped, ‘Is that all? He turned his back on us, left his realm to rot, let Imagers do whatever they wanted to his people – just so Mordant would be attacked, instead of Alend or Cadwal?’
His passion stopped Terisa’s voice. She nodded dumbly.
Without warning, the Termigan let out a snarl of laughter. Candlelight reflected in his eyes like an echo of lava. ‘Brilliant. Destroy your friends to save your enemies. Completely brilliant.’
‘He needs the help anyway, my lord,’ murmured Geraden. ‘No matter how slim it is, the possibility that he knows what he’s doing is the only hope we have left. You might be able to do him some good by striking against Esmerel.’
For a moment, the lord remained motionless, holding himself as though a gale were gathering inside him. Then, abruptly, he lifted his fists and roared, ‘No!
‘He decided to sacrifice Sternwall without consulting me! Let him pay for the rest of his reasons himself!’
When he left the room, he slammed the door so hard that splinters jumped from the latch and one of the crossmembers cracked.
Geraden looked at Terisa with trouble in his eyes. ‘Well,’ he said finally, ‘at least I haven’t lost my talent for mishap.’
She went to him and hugged him. ‘Wait and see,’ she muttered dryly. ‘If he doesn’t tie us up and throw us in the lava, you got more out of him than I did.’
That enabled him to chuckle a little. ‘Do you mean,’ he asked, ‘that if we simply survive this experience I’m supposed to consider it a success?’
‘Wait and see,’ she repeated. She didn’t know what else to offer him.
They waited.
Eventually, a servant brought them hot water, so Geraden braced a chair against the door, and they bathed each other. They drank the wine and ate the food; they took advantage of the bed. They even got some sleep.
The next morning, they answered a knock at their door, and another servant came into the room carrying their breakfast.
A soldier visited them as well. Brusquely, as if he had no time for this, he asked Terisa and Geraden what they needed for their journey.
They were surprised – but not so surprised that Geraden couldn’t think of a list. After all, the Termigan had a reputation for fidelity. He may have hated Imagers and lost confidence in his King, but apparently he couldn’t forget his lifelong loyalties. To the Domne, for instance. And Geraden and Terisa had lost their horses and supplies outside Sternwall; they needed anything the lord was willing to give them. So Geraden talked to the soldier for several minutes; and by the time he and Terisa had finished their breakfast the man returned to report that their new horses and fresh supplies were ready to go.
In fact, the Termigan sent them on their way better equipped than they had been when they entered his Care. In addition to the horses, he gave them plenty of food, full wineskins, cooking utensils, a short sword for each of them, and bedding that seemed luxurious compared to the thin blankets with which they had left Houseldon. He even provided a rough map which showed a direct route across country toward the Care of Fayle and Romish.
But he didn’t do anything to help King Joyse.
THIRTY-SIX
GATHERING SUPPORT
According to the map, Romish was situated near the southeast point of the Care of Fayle, where the border between Fayle and Armigite met the border between Termigan and Fayle.
Terisa and Geraden wanted to hurry. From one perspective, the attack on Sternwall was a good sign: it implied that Master Eremis was still waiting for his plans to mature, still vulnerable. In every other way, however, the Termigan’s plight was cause for alarm. So far, Houseldon had been burned down; Sternwall was falling into a pit of fire. The Armigite had made an agreement with Prince Kragen. The Perdon was alone against all of High King Festten’s power. What came next? If this process continued much longer, Mordant would soon have nothing left to save.
Terisa and Geraden had reason to hurry.
Unfortunately, the terrain didn’t let them.
They made good progress for a day after they left Sternwall, but that was only because they were able to remain on the road which led eventually to the Demesne and Orison. The second day, their route required them to angle away from the road, heading more to the north as the road shifted east. And this part of Termigan was the roughest land she had yet seen in Mordant.
‘Now if this were Armigite—’ Geraden panted as he tugged his horse, a rangy gray with a head like a mallet, up an interminable hillside that was too flinty and steep for safe riding. ‘Armigite in spring is worth seeing. The soil is so sweet they say you only have to wave a few squash seeds at the ground and you’ll be up to your hips in vines. The early hay should be just coming up – it smells so fresh you want to take up dancing. And the women—’ He glanced at Terisa and grinned. ‘All that rich soil and relaxed countryside makes their work so easy they really don’t have anything better to do than sit around and become gorgeous.’
Terisa snorted softly. At the moment, she would have been delighted to be in Armigite. Let the women there become as gorgeous as they pleased. As far as she was concerned, the only thing worse than riding a horse was trying to haul it by main force up a hill it didn’t want to climb, when her knee still pained her. Generally, she was willing to put up with the mount the Termigan had provided for her – a roan gelding with a decent gait and no malice. In the present circumstances, however, she would cheerfully have dropped the beast into one of Eremis’ fiery pits.
Nevertheless she didn’t suggest that she and Geraden forget about the Fayle; that they return to the road and head straight for Orison. The Fayle was the only lord left whom they might bring to the King’s support.
And Queen Madin lived in Fayle, in Romish. Myste had mentioned a manor just outside Romish.
Terisa felt a strong, if rather irrational, conviction that Queen Madin had a right to know what her husband was doing. Otherwise the Queen might go to her grave believing that King Joyse had lost his interest in life, his commitment to Mordant; his love for her.
It was typical of Terisa’s mood – her soul shocked by Sternwall’s danger, her thoughts troubled by the ramifications of what Master Eremis was doing, and yet her heart full of Geraden – that she considered Queen Madin’s feelings at least as important as King Joyse’s need for help.
So she wrestled her roan up the hillsides, rode it gingerly down the gullies, and trotted it inexpertly across the flats, not precisely without complaint, but without significant self-pity.
The Care of Termigan, as Geraden explained, wasn’t heavily populated. And most of the towns and villages were spread out along the Broadwine River, away from the Pestil and Alend. After the second day, the two riders seemed alone in the stringent landscape. Terisa bega
n to think that Termigan had already lost everything it had ever contained worth fighting for.
For three days, dark clouds locked the sky, threatening rain. Water and mud would have perfected the pleasure of her journey; nevertheless she wished for rain. Orison could always use water. And mud would make the movements of armies more difficult.
Despite the fierce way they glowered down at the earth, however, the clouds were only able to spit a few brief sprinkles before they blew away. The weather itself seemed to have Master Eremis’ best interests at heart.
On the other hand, as the clouds drifted off, the terrain improved, as if sunlight had an ameliorating effect on the slopes and soil. Trees became more common: soon the errant and bedraggled copses of the rest of Termigan began to accumulate into long stands of elder and sycamore, ash and wattle. ‘We’re getting closer,’ commented Geraden. ‘Fayle is known for its wood.
‘Actually, that’s one reason Alend traditionally attacks through Termigan or Armigite rather than Fayle. And it’s why the Fayle was King Joyse’s second ally, after the Tor. You could make yourself old trying to run a military campaign through the forests of Fayle. The Care has more history of resistance – or maybe I should say of successful resistance – than most of the rest of Mordant.
‘That probably explains,’ he concluded humorously, ‘where the Fayle got his loyalty – and Queen Madin got her stubbornness.’
Terisa felt that if she never saw another hillside covered with gorse and nettles again she could die happy. ‘How much farther?’
He consulted the map. ‘Two days, if we’re lucky. It’s easy to get lost in woods and forests. And I’ve never been in Fayle before. Actually, Batten in Armigite is the closest I’ve ever been to Romish.
‘But the good news’ – he looked around – ‘is that we ought to start seeing people again soon. According to the map, we’ll go right through several villages. Technically, some of them will still be Termigan. But for all practical purposes we’re coming into the Care of Fayle right now.’
Simply because he said those words, she took a harder look ahead – and spotted what appeared to be a smudge against the horizon.
Frowning, she tried to squint her vision into better focus.
Geraden noticed the direction of her gaze. ‘What do you see?’
‘I don’t know. Smoke?’
He squinted as well, then shook his head. ‘I can’t tell.’ Terisa didn’t need to say anything; he had the same memories she did. After scanning the map again, he added, ‘That might actually be the first village. A place called Aperyte. Unless I’m wrong about where we are. If it has a smithy, the forge will smoke.’
‘Let’s find out,’ she said under her breath.
Self-consciously, he loosened his sword in its scabbard. Then he tightened his grip on the reins and urged his gray into a canter.
Her gelding followed. She was getting better at telling it what to do.
Between the trees, the ground was covered with clumps of dull grass and bracken. The first hint of evening was in the air, but she didn’t notice it; she was concentrating ahead, trying to see past a number of intervening wattle thickets. The wattle had bright yellow flowers that grew in sprays like mimosa blooms. The ground was rising: if she had turned in her saddle, she could have seen a panorama unrolled behind her. But she had watched Houseldon burn; she didn’t have any attention to spare for flowers and vistas.
The distance was greater than she expected. She began to think that the smudge she had seen was a trick of the light.
Then, abruptly, a knot of copses stood back from a clearing.
A corral with a split-rail fence filled most of the clearing. It wasn’t as big as it first appeared; but it was plainly big enough for ten or fifteen horses. Terisa – who felt that she was becoming an expert on horse manure – was sure that the corral had been full of horses.
Recently.
But not now.
Geraden stopped. He studied the clearing. ‘That’s odd.’
‘What’s odd?’
‘The gate’s closed.’
He was right: the gate wasn’t just closed; it was tied shut.
‘Why?’ he muttered softly. ‘Why take all your horses out and then tie the gate?’
She lowered her voice. ‘Why not?’
‘Why bother?’ he returned.
Terisa had no idea.
After a moment, he breathed, ‘Come on,’ and slipped out of his saddle. ‘Let’s go see what we’re getting into.’
When she had dismounted, he led the gray and her gelding away until they were hidden among the copses, out of sight of the clearing. There he tied the reins to a tree; but he didn’t uncinch the girths or drop the saddlebags.
Taking Terisa’s hand, he moved quietly toward the village.
Because she was trying so hard to look ahead, peer between the trees, she had trouble with her footing. Geraden, on the other hand, didn’t trip or stumble. For a moment, she couldn’t figure out how he knew where he was going. Then she realized that he was following worn lines in the dirt – marks made by people and animals that had reason to go in every conceivable direction from their homes.
He brought her to the back of a daub-and-wattle shed. Actually, it was little more than a shelter intended to protect straw for the horses from the weather.
Beyond it lay the village.
At a glance, Terisa could see perhaps a dozen huts, all built of daub-andwattle, all with roofs made from what appeared to be bundles of banana leaves. Among them stood an open-sided structure that might have served as a meeting hall. The size of the cleared space gave the impression that there were more houses and buildings out of sight behind the ones nearby.
From somewhere among them rose a stream of thin, dirty smoke.
The village was disturbingly quiet. No people shouting to each other. No people at all. No dogs. No chickens scratching the dirt. No children whimpering or playing in the distance. The breeze raised a little furl of dust along the hard ground between the huts, but it didn’t make any noise.
‘Oh, shit,’ Geraden growled softly.
‘Maybe they’re all at work,’ she murmured. ‘In the fields or something.’
He shook his head. ‘A village like this is never empty. Not like this.’
‘Evacuation? Maybe the Fayle got them all away?’
He thought for a moment. ‘I like that idea better.’ Then he said, ‘As long as we’re whispering, let’s go see if they really are gone.’
Together, they crept into the village.
Its inhabitants really were gone.
So were all its animals and fowl; beasts of burden; pets. Terisa had the impression that even the vermin had disappeared.
Shadows lengthened across the bare ground. Dusk seemed to gather in the huts and peek out from their gaping doorways, their eyeless windows. The breeze brought the taste of something cold, a hint of something rotten.
She was afraid to ask Geraden if he recognized it.
The village did in fact contain a smithy, but the forge was cold. The smoke came from somewhere else.
Shortly, she and Geraden discovered its source. At the northern edge of the village, three huts in a cluster were on fire.
They had been burning for some time – had nearly burned themselves out. Only their blackened frames still stood. Small flames licked in and out of the fallen remains of the roofs; the smoke drifting upward had a bitter smell.
All three were full of corpses.
Terisa gagged when she saw the stumps of charred arms and legs, the lumps of heads protruding from the ash. ‘Is that all of them?’ she choked thickly. ‘All of them?’
‘No.’ Geraden was having trouble breathing. ‘Probably just a few families. The whole village wouldn’t fit. These are the ones who didn’t get away.’
Inspired by nausea – and by the strange scent on the breeze, which didn’t have anything to do with burned wattle and charred bodies – Terisa muttered, ‘Or they’re the ones who
did.’
He gave her a look like a whiplash.
She heard a faint, rustling noise – bare feet scuttling across the dirt. She looked around; her peripheral vision seemed to catch a glimpse of something as it slipped into the evening shadows. Then it was gone. She couldn’t be sure that she had actually seen anything.
Yet a chill went down her back as she remembered what Master Eremis had told the lords of the Cares. All Mordant is already assailed. Strange wolves have slaughtered the Tor’s son. Devouring lizards swarm the storehouses of the Demesne. Pits of fire appear in the ground of Termigan.
But that wasn’t all. Now she remembered it precisely.
Ghouls harry the villages of Fayle.
‘Geraden—’ She was barely able to clear her throat. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
He was still staring at the huts; he hadn’t heard what she heard. But he nodded roughly.
For no apparent reason, he pulled out his sword as he started back toward the horses.
She hoped he didn’t have a reason. Nevertheless she was glad that he was armed – and that he was determined, if not skilled. She stayed close to his shoulder all the way through the village and past the corral.
Their boots made too much noise on the hard ground: she wouldn’t have been able to hear any soft rustling sounds. But twice she thought she saw movement in the heart of a shadow, the depths of a hut, as if the dark were coming to life.
She was irrationally relieved to find the horses where she and Geraden had left them – and to find them alive. They were both uneasy: the gray bobbed its head fretfully; the roan kept rolling its eyes. Maybe they smelled the same scent that made her so nervous. They were difficult to manage at first, until they realized that they were no longer tied to the tree.
Respecting the uneasiness of the horses – and his own distress – Geraden led Terisa in a wide circuit beyond the empty village before returning to the route marked on the Termigan’s map.
Until nightfall forced them to stop, they put as much distance as they could between themselves and Aperyte. She didn’t want to stop at all; but of course they couldn’t find their way safely in the dark. A flashlight would have come in handy. A big flashlight. Sure, she muttered to herself sourly. And while she was at it, why not an armored car to ride in? Or even an airplane to drop a few strategic bombs on Esmerel? On High King Festten’s army?
Mordant's Need Page 103
