“Not half so worried as I,” Niniol told her, and Meridy sat up, even more relieved to find the guard captain leaning in the doorway, his translucent shoulder blending into the painted wood, his mouth crooked in a wry expression that was not quite a smile. He lifted a hand in a salute-like gesture. “The dog seemed to know where to find you. Thankfully. I’d have had no idea. I do beg your pardon for the intrusion”—a flick of his hand took in the bedchamber—“but I fear I couldn’t rest without being certain you were here, and safe. Both of you.”
His glance went to Jaift, a curled blanket-covered shape on the other side of the bed, not yet waking despite the voices. Or, really, Meridy’s voice; Niniol’s voiceless murmur wouldn’t have woken anyone.
He said, “When the two of you ran out of the world, it was…upsetting.”
Meridy was sure it had been. “Jaift sent a letter to the Derem household. It’s too bad it’ll take days for her family to get here. But I’m so glad to see you, and I know Jaift will be relieved, too. Everyone—the caravan…” She hesitated, afraid to ask.
“That cursed sorcerer wasn’t interested in anyone but you,” Niniol assured her. “Ah, I’ll tell you in a moment, shall I?” As Jaift stirred, he straightened and stepped back into the other room to give the girls their privacy.
Meridy poked Jaift, tossed back the blankets, beckoned to Iëhiy, and headed for the bath as the other girl sat up, yawning and looking around in blurry puzzlement. “Where—? Oh. Was someone here a minute ago? Oh, Iëhiy!” She patted the wolfhound carefully, shaping her hand around his half-present head and neck. She wasn’t as practiced at this as Meridy, but the dog licked her face anyway.
The growing humidity of the morning made Meridy’s hair unmanageable, though after she dressed, she spent some time trying to twist it up into a knot.
“Let me braid it,” Jaift said, and did so with quick authority. Then she produced a fine copper chain from somewhere, twisted it around the braid, and put Meridy’s hair up in a neat coil, which was not something Meridy could have managed for herself. “Copper is definitely your metal,” Jaift told her. “That’s handy, since it’s mine, too. I have—had—some copper earrings that would look good on you. I still have them, I suppose, somewhere.” She put her own hair up with expert speed, studying the effect in the mirror. She added, “I wonder if the couturier has any earrings? Or ribbons? Well, it’ll do, I suppose.”
“You’re always beautiful,” Meridy said, a little enviously. It wasn’t exactly beauty, but she didn’t know how else to describe a girl like Jaift, so much more assured than a village girl. Maybe that was why princesses were always described as beautiful in stories: because they grew up with that kind of confidence.
Jaift smiled at her in the mirror. “So are you,” she said cheerfully, without regard for Meridy’s obvious Southern blood.
Meridy didn’t believe her, but…if confidence could make Jaift beautiful, maybe Meridy could at least pretend. Her new dress was very pretty. And her hair was up properly, for once. Straightening her back, she lifted her head.
“That’s the way!” approved Jaift. “Are you ready? Niniol said everyone was fine, right? But I want to hear all about it for myself! And I’m starving. I’ll get someone to send up a tray, and we can hear about everything and decide what to do.”
Meridy only nodded, though she was privately resolved that whatever she had to do about Diöllin and Herren and the witch-king and Inmanuàr and everything, Jaift wouldn’t be involved.
Niniol now occupied one of the chairs in the sitting room, his back decently turned to the bedchamber, the sunrise turning his colorless form to light. His legs were stretched out comfortably and he was idly flipping a dagger over and over. But when the girls came in, he straightened and put the dagger away, getting to his feet and turning to offer another of his wry salutes. Despite the morning light, the weapon became far less distinct as soon as he stopped paying attention to it, though it didn’t quite dissolve back into memory.
“Jaift—” Niniol began, cut that off, and said more formally, “Excellent miss—”
“Jaift,” the girl said firmly. “It seems silly the other way, now. Meridy tells me you said everyone is all right? Please assure me nothing happened to my family! Or anyone else,” she added conscientiously.
The guard captain gave her a nod. “They are well; they were all well when I left them. The sorcerer or witch, whatever he was, he hadn’t any interest in the caravan once you and Meridy were away. He left us all and went after the two of you, but the hound was through the gap and away before him, and I hoped he’d be some use to you—more use than I managed. Me, I guess I was already fading by then.” He added to Meridy, “I can’t see the world too clearly anyway, and the longer you were gone, the worse it got. It was like being lost in the thickest fog you’ve ever seen, till the hound came back and found me.”
Meridy patted Iëhiy, who was leaning against her knee, his eyes half shut, looking sleepy and contented. “He’s a knowing one, isn’t he? I’m sorry, Niniol. I didn’t mean to bind you, but since I did, it was terrible to abandon you. I’d let you go now and show you the White Road, but I don’t know how to do that either.” All the ghosts she’d ever really known had been old dead, but surrounded by and held to the real by memories of their familiar lives. She could just imagine what it must have been like for Niniol, cut off from every anchor, aware that he was fading and would be lost to both the world and the God.
“Ah, well.” Niniol lifted a shoulder in a sardonic shrug. “The dog found me, eh? I think I…that is, I don’t much mind your binding me. If you’re going to be attacked at odd moments, best you have a decent sword by you. Though you might consider making enemies of ordinary brigands and leaving the sorcerers be.”
Meridy was relieved and surprised by his stoic acceptance of…everything. But then, thinking about it, maybe she understood. Niniol had been working for the Gehliy family for a long time; he obviously cared about them. Of course Niniol would set himself to protect Jaift until she could get back to the safety of her family. That made sense, after all. She didn’t question it but said instead, “You called the man a sorcerer. By his eyes, I think he must have also been a witch. Did he try to bind you?”
Niniol shrugged, cordially enough. “I wouldn’t know a sorcerer from a milkmaid. But it’s not a milkmaid who can open a way out of dreams and make the very air crumble away to a memory of dust, is it? He might have tried to bind me, but he was away too quick to make a real effort at it, I think. Witch or sorcerer, if you’ve got him as an enemy, you surely need a sword at your back.”
Meridy couldn’t disagree. She said to Jaift, “You see how dangerous—”
“Breakfast,” Jaift said authoritatively. “And then we will find the public conveyances and see about getting a ride north. Don’t argue, Mery! As if I’d let you go alone! Or risk leading this sorcerer or servitor or whatever he may be right back to my family, and don’t tell me that’s impossible! Besides, do you think I’d let you go off with that snippy princess and try to rescue the young prince by yourself? Although,” she added, “I suppose I’ll have to write another letter to my parents, though what I’ll put in it I really don’t know.”
Meridy looked at Niniol, but he only raised an eyebrow at her, as much as to say, Princesses as well as sorcerers, is it? So she had to suppose that since he was bound to her, he would just as soon Jaift stay close to her, so he could protect them both.
And she had to admit, she would be lost without Jaift. And Inmanuàr…if it was Inmanuàr…had said she should take Jaift with her. So in the end, she only drew a breath, let it out, and said, “All right, if you’re sure. Um…what is a public conveyance, anyway?”
—
The conveyances proved to be big, heavy carriages with benches that could seat more than a dozen passengers. Jaift, of course, knew all about them, and precisely whom to ask to find out where the yard was and how often conveyances left for Cora Talen, which was almost due north
of Riam and so ought to suit Diöllin, no matter whether they eventually headed for Surem or Cora Diorr or wherever. Each conveyance was drawn by a team of four heavy horses. They were slow, Jaift explained, but faster than a merchant’s caravan and definitely faster than walking—and safe from brigands, because the driver and many of the passengers were always armed with crossbows and because the Riamne Highway was heavily patrolled.
“The lords of Cora Talen and Riam send guardsmen to patrol,” Jaift said. “The lord of Riam is supposed to patrol the Tamared Road all the way to the Yellow River, but he’s lazy about it, my father says; that’s why there are so many more brigands along that road. Though it’s also true, brigands along the Yellow River Road can fall back and hide in the mountains, but it’s hard for brigands to stay out of the way of decent men in farm country like this.”
Meridy was glad to hear it. She felt she had had more than a sufficiency of brigands in the past week. She only wished she thought the lords’ men also patrolled the roads against sorcerers.
—
But they saw neither sorcerers nor brigands on the Riamne Highway. It was busy and cluttered, that wide highway; one could hardly go any distance without passing a train of slow wagons or a private carriage with outriders or another heavy conveyance like their own.
They didn’t see Diöllin at any time during the six-day journey from Riam to Cora Talen. But though the princess did not appear, Meridy had a faint, continual sense that if she turned her head suddenly, she might glimpse her out of the corner of her eye. She was surprised the princess didn’t hover by her side during all the six days of the journey, urging haste, but then Diöllin had wanted Meridy to anchor her specifically so she would be safe to go to her brother, so no doubt she was hovering near him instead. No doubt the young prince needed his sister.
They didn’t see Inmanuàr either. If the ghost boy was Inmanuàr—Meridy had to remind herself that they still couldn’t be absolutely certain of it. On the one hand, Meridy wished the ghost boy would come, now that she knew what questions she wanted to ask him. On the other hand, if he was likely to draw Tai-Enchar’s attention to them, then she wanted nothing more than for him to stay far, far away.
Niniol had been with them all the time, though, and Iëhiy. Niniol was watchful, obviously conscious of his responsibility as their sole guard, aware that he could not defend them against any real threat unless Meridy helped him do it, and that anything of the kind would completely betray her as a witch. She was more aware of the suspicious distance other travelers kept from her than she had ever been in her life, especially when she so clearly got more room in the conveyance than anyone else, or when people sharing a table at each public house shifted away from her when they stopped for meals or for the night. Jaift pretended not to notice, and no one could be wary of Jaift, who was effortlessly friendly with everyone. Again and again, Meridy was forced to realize how much she depended on Jaift to break through the reserve everyone felt toward a black-eyed girl. She tried one night to turn her eyes blue, but whatever the trick was, she didn’t discover it.
Iëhiy did not seem to worry about anything. The wolfhound ranged to one side and another during their days on the road, not troubled by either the sun or the rain, for it began to rain as they approached Cora Talen, a heavy gray drizzle that did not seem likely to stop any time soon. But the rain fell right through Iëhiy, except for the occasional drop that splashed off his back or head and made him shake vigorously as though he’d had a dunking.
—
There were thousands upon thousands of people in the town of Cora Talen. Nearly all of them were alive, and the clamor was frightening. Six days on the road, and Meridy had nearly forgotten what actual cities were like. She was sure Cora Talen was even bigger and busier than Riam.
They descended from the conveyance onto a busy street filled with carriages and horses and people afoot. It was still raining. Meridy and Jaift ducked their heads and tried to keep out of the mud, but both girls also turned one way and another, trying to look at everything at once, because Cora Talen wasn’t much like Riam at all. Meridy had thought that one city must be much like another, but where the people of Riam had built heavy, square buildings with steep shingled roofs and plaster walls, and painted all their homes in bright colors, the people of Cora Talen built narrow and tall, with umber-colored brick and slate.
Not far away, a rider sent his horse lunging through a hole in the crowd, forcing a harassed-looking girl carrying a bellowing toddler to jump aside. Blind to ghosts, the girl scurried right through Niniol without blinking. Niniol gave Meridy a long-suffering look.
“You shouldn’t complain,” Meridy told him, lowering her voice from habit, although there was far too much bustle for anyone to notice her speaking to the empty air. “At least the rain does the same thing.”
Even so, the moisture in the air seemed somehow to glisten in a peculiar way where it touched Niniol and Iëhiy, creating, to the perceptive eye, a faintly visible image where they stood. It was hard to believe that no one in this crowd could see them. At least, Meridy firmly hoped that no one but she and Jaift could see them.
“An inn,” Jaift said firmly, taking her arm. “A cozy inn, with decent food, and girls to do laundry, and shops nearby. We can find out what time tomorrow a conveyance leaves for Cora Diorr and buy cushions for those awful benches.”
They all looked around the street. There were three public houses in sight, but Niniol said authoritatively, “Not those! Travelers who don’t know better stay at the first place they see. The decent inns will be a street or two farther on.” He cast an experienced eye one way, then another, and said briskly, “This way, I think,” and strode away.
Meridy and Jaift shrugged at each other and followed Niniol, Meridy taking Jaift’s hand because she was nervous about managing to follow anyone in the busy streets.
“There’s so much,” she said apologetically when Jaift tugged her out of the way of two men on horseback and then caught her elbow so she didn’t step into the gutter. “I thought after Riam I would be used to it.”
“We weren’t in Riam long enough to get used to anything.” Jaift stepped adroitly to the side to let a handful of children run past and looked around, her eyes bright. “Oh, you can see, they must have the open market over there. There are the awnings rolled up out of the way. I wonder when the next market will be.”
“Probably it will still be raining,” Meridy muttered. “And anyway, we don’t have time for a market day.”
Jaift didn’t seem to notice her irritable tone. “I know, the rain is awful, but I would have liked to look just a little. Preferably on a day with sunlight and less mud, I grant you. I do want to get out of this rain!”
“You may both cease fussing,” Niniol said over his shoulder. “We’re there.”
“Where?” asked Meridy.
“Here.” Niniol put out one insubstantial hand to guide Meridy around a corner and into an unexpected pocket of quiet. “This one looks good. See the sign? It wouldn’t be embossed like that except the inn is prosperous and secure.”
The sign showed a half-moon over a white poppy, and indeed, both moon and flower were embossed with silver. “Can we afford to stay here?” Meridy asked, trying to remember Jaift’s explanation about the different coins.
“Certainly for one night,” Jaift declared, and strolled toward the inn’s main door.
Heat blasted from the inn’s common room as Jaift shoved the door wide and ushered Meridy in. Meridy felt as though all eyes ought to be drawn to them as they dripped their way into the inn, but in fact none of the patrons seemed much interested. No one leaped to his feet exclaiming, “Witches! Quick dead! Send for the priests!” After a moment, she began to relax.
They claimed seats at the unoccupied end of a long table. Iëhiy crawled under the table and lay down with an inaudible sigh, although, being a ghost dog, he couldn’t actually be weary. Niniol leaned against the wall behind Jaift. Smoke from the fires of the inn gav
e him a peculiarly solid appearance, as the rain had not, and at the same time made him seem less part of the real than ever. By this time, Niniol had been dead long enough not to fall through the wall. But he watched wistfully as a serving girl brought bowls of thick soup and a platter of bread and cheese. Meridy glanced around warily, but no one in the common room seemed to have any idea Niniol was among them.
“I can tip some into the ethereal for you,” Meridy murmured once the girl had gone.
“Could you?” said Jaift. “Isn’t that more sorcery than witchery, pushing things from the real into the ethereal instead of the other way around?”
“I don’t know,” Meridy said, surprised. Thinking about it, it did seem Jaift was right. Witches brought the ethereal into the real. Sorcerers stepped from the real into the ethereal. She knew that. It really was confusing, since she’d been feeding Iëhiy tidbits all along. “Maybe such little things don’t count—a spoonful of supper for Iëhiy or Niniol—”
“Too risky to fool with right now, either way,” Niniol warned her. “Let’s not draw attention. There are far too many eyes here.” He tilted his head gently to the side.
Meridy followed the gesture and found herself looking into the face of a man several tables away. The man looked away unhurriedly, but not before Meridy caught the gleam of a priest’s medal at his throat. Her heart jumped. She couldn’t tell for sure whether the priest’s eyes were black, but she knew they were dark.
Leaning forward, she whispered, “What are we doing at this public table at all, then?”
“Because I didn’t see him at first. He has dark eyes,” Niniol added. “But perhaps not black. If he’s got the eyes to see, it’s too late to stay out of his sight; and if not, it’d look more suspicious to leave now than it does to stay put and have supper. Just you have a bite and then go upstairs.”
“He’s all right,” Jaift murmured. “If he thinks you’ve bound Niniol against his will, he can ask and Niniol will explain and it’ll be fine.”
The White Road of the Moon Page 14
