The White Road of the Moon

by Rachel Neumeier

  But no matter how much he understood, Gonnuol was definitely unhappy about approaching Surem.

  They’d had to let him fade into the ethereal at last, here where the countryside was heavily settled and travelers ever more frequent. Once they dismounted and started walking, the fire horse circled around Meridy and Herren, dancing uneasily sideways and then lunging forward in a rush, snapping his jaws to make his tusks clash together threateningly. Meridy didn’t blame him one bit, even if his violent displeasure was nerve-racking. The idea of walking among all these people frightened her, too, though she tried not to show it. Anyone might be a witch, or a sorcerer, or one of Tai-Enchar’s servitors, or something even more dire. Even though they shouldn’t need to go right into the city, the thought of so many strangers was hard to face. And what if a priest or a witch or someone saw the fire horse? Word would spread so fast, and anybody who was searching for them would know exactly where to look….

  “Even if a witch does glimpse Gonnuol, they’ll probably think he’s just an ordinary horse,” Herren pointed out. “He’s not likely to get near enough for any stranger to get a close look at him, even if they’ve got the eyes to see.”

  By this time, Meridy wasn’t even surprised Herren had guessed what she was thinking; he was amazingly perceptive. She supposed it was because he was a prince and had grown up knowing that people didn’t always say what they meant.

  “Gonnuol is trailing us, anyway, not sticking out of your pocket,” the boy added. “I’m sure he’ll stay as far from strangers as he can.”

  This turned out to be true, and as their actual goal was Moran Bay, not Surem, they had no need to venture into the city itself. Of course, they had to skirt the entire city to reach the bay, which seemed unnecessarily tedious. Though a fairly decent road of pounded earth encircled the city, it was amazing how easy it was to get used to riding instead of walking.

  Also, the road was busy; there was no avoiding that. There were a few fancy narrow-wheeled carriages with high-stepping horses, but there were a lot more dogcarts competing for space with wagons pulled by mules. All this traffic competed with boys leading small herds of goats and girls carrying hens tucked under their arms or baskets of fruit, with men striding out on errands and women strolling more sedately, their skirts turned up against the dust. These were a mostly people of fair coloring, which made Meridy feel terribly conspicuous. Now and then someone, attention caught by her dusky skin and hair, gave her a close look, frowning, but most of the people were too busy about their own affairs to bother noticing a witch-girl.

  To the left, the unwalled city of Surem rose up: neither the yellow-gray stone and white towers of Cora Diorr, nor the umber brick of Cora Talen, nor the bright blues and pinks and greens of Riam, but a distinctive style unlike any of those. Here the plaster of the homes and shops was whitewashed, or else painted eggshell-cream or a pale gold like well-beaten egg. The fancy exposed timbers that edged and crossed the plaster were painted dark brown, the color of the best garden loam, or else a russet like oak leaves in the fall. The roofs were dark shingle, mostly a brown tinted with gold, and the strings of prayer bells hanging from the eaves were enameled in warm tones of cream and copper and gold. Even the cobbles were of a tawny brown. It was all very handsome.

  Meridy wondered what the wealthier parts of Surem might be like, and wished Jaift were with her, and that the two of them had nothing to do but explore the city. She wished even more that she had some way to know, really know, that her friend was safe in Cora Diorr. Surely Lord Roann and his brother would have been able to protect Jaift….She didn’t want to think about that too closely, and there was nothing to do about it anyway, and plenty to keep track of here on the outskirts of Surem.

  To the right, outside the city proper, cottages and stalls and markets spilled into the farmlands. The cottages were thatched, mostly. If they had window coverings at all, these were of oiled paper rather than glass, and the cottages probably also had floors of beaten earth covered with rushes rather than properly laid wooden boards. But their plaster was neatly painted and mostly in good repair, and many of them looked larger and more comfortable than the general run of the cottages in Tikiy. Beyond the cottages and market stalls, interlaced with the sprawl of humbler buildings, lay the pastures and fields, most of them bordered by tight-planted thorn briar and locust trees and overlooked by low, sprawling farmhouses. No doubt narrow farmers’ tracks wove through those fields, though it was hard to see how even such narrow paths could find their way through the forbidding fencerows. Besides, in this close-planted country, it would surely prove impossible to remain unobserved even if it was possible to keep to those tracks—and they would have to go far out of their way to avoid Surem’s outskirts, anyway.

  Herren, brighter and more cheerful than Meridy had yet seen him, stared around at everything and everyone. He said suddenly, “We could buy a chicken. You could carry it and then no one would look at you twice. I ought to have a goat on a string, like that boy over there.”

  “A goat!” Diöllin said, her shock obvious even given her faint thread of a voice.

  “Well, not an ugly one like that. One of those pretty ones with the floppy ears.” Herren looked hopefully at Meridy. “Could we buy a goat? We could give it away again later, to a boy who doesn’t have one of his own. It’s only right for a prince to give largess to his people.”

  “We’re in Moran Tal,” Diöllin pointed out. “These aren’t even our people.”

  “Well, but I’m sure a boy from Moran Tal would still like a goat, if he doesn’t have one,” Herren argued.

  Meridy surprised herself by laughing. She supposed they did have enough money to buy a goat, and almost wanted to see if one of the goat boys would sell an animal just to please Herren. “I expect we wouldn’t find a boy when we needed one, and then Gonnuol would probably turn up and terrify the poor goat straight out of the real and onto the White Road.” But she added, giving the young prince a penny, “Why don’t you buy a couple of pies from that stall over there, though?”

  She strolled on slowly, keeping an eye on Herren though Niniol, watchful as always, shadowed the young prince.

  Then she stumbled in shock as, between one step and the next, she found first Iëhiy and then Inmanuàr himself close beside her.

  Iëhiy dashed to Meridy and hurled himself against her with enthusiasm, ears tipped back, panting happily. If he’d been a living dog, he would surely have knocked her over, but since he had no weight or heft, she stroked his jaw and pulled his ear and patted his neck. But though she told Iëhiy how glad she was to see him, and it was true, she wasn’t nearly so happy to see Inmanuàr.

  The High King’s son looked exactly as always: at once young and old, assured and guarded, impatient and enduring. Sunlight slid along his cheek as though not entirely certain he was there, folding around echoes of the bright violet and sapphire colors his clothing had once possessed. He tilted his head as Meridy thumped Iëhiy’s sides and told him what a good dog he was. Though Inmanuàr looked grave enough, there was a hint of humor to his mouth.

  Straightening, Meridy demanded, “What are you doing here? And what—or who—is coming after you this time? Tai-Enchar or Princess Tiamanaith?”

  “This time I am not leading our enemies to you,” Inmanuàr said, and added, “Unfortunately.”

  Meridy glared at him. “You mean they already know where we are! Tai-Enchar or the princess-regent, or both?”

  Inmanuàr was smiling at her. “You are quick. Both, for the princess-regent—or rather, the sorceress Aseraiëth—marks the footsteps of her son, and Tai-Enchar marks the path she draws for him. You have been swifter than she expected, and so for a time she lost Herren, but now she has him again in her eye.”

  “So if she’s on her way, and Tai-Enchar behind her—” Meridy looked around quickly, not only to be sure Herren was all right but also as though she might suddenly see a hiding place, or a bulwark against sorcerous attack.

  Inmanuàr lift
ed a hand. “No; we have a little time. Enough, we may hope. Aseraiëth’s goals are not quite aligned with Tai-Enchar’s; each delays the other and so they have not come quite so far upon their way as might be. This works to our gain, because for you there is a swifter road than this to the shores of Mora Bay. ‘Ere dawn or dusk, ere breaking or binding, swift upon the noiseless road the traveler proceeds!’ ”

  “ ‘Guided by dream before and reverie trailing behind,’ ” Meridy said, completing the line. Then she blinked and added, “That poem is a tragedy!”

  “My good dog will guide you,” the ghost prince promised her gravely, and turned to Herren as the boy came up to them, Niniol half a step behind and Diöllin as much to the fore. Diöllin was glaring at Inmanuàr, furious, but if the older ghost noticed, he seemed not to care. Well, he was the High King’s son; Meridy could see that the anger of a mere ordinary princess might not move him.

  Herren knew Inmanuàr was there, Meridy could tell; or he guessed it. Perhaps he had heard his voice. The boy had brought one of the little pies, wrapped in a mulberry leaf, for Meridy, but he had clearly forgotten he held it. Red mulberry juice dripped into the dust. He said in his thin, tightly controlled voice, so wrong for a boy his age, “She’s found me.”

  Stepping forward, Inmanuàr set his hands on the young prince’s shoulders. Herren flinched as though he felt an echo of that touch, but he didn’t step back.

  Lowering his voice, Inmanuàr said to him, “The sorceress will not have you; she will not bargain with Tai-Enchar over your body. It will not happen. Meridy will keep you safe and bring you to Moran Diorr. Once you are come there, above all, you must come to me. To me, and no one else. Do you understand?”

  “Wait—” said Meridy, suspecting she understood what Inmanuàr intended to do once he brought Herren to Moran Diorr, and beginning to be appalled.

  “What do you mean!” cried Diöllin. “He’s not— What do you mean to do?”

  But Herren only gave a stiff, tight little nod, and said, “Yes. I will.”

  “Good,” Inmanuàr said quietly, for this moment ignoring the rest of them. “You’ll do, when it comes to the moment. You will have to. As will I.” Then he turned back to Meridy and added, “As will we all.”

  Meridy, who had been set to argue, found no way to argue with this.

  “So, my friend,” Inmanuàr said to her, now more gently. “You mustn’t dally on this road—but you know that. I think Tai-Enchar will come before the sorceress. It’s true my presence always draws him, and since Aseraiëth had already led him most of the way to this place, he will soon find me, and step through dreams to come to this place. You must be prepared to step away.” He held out a hand to Iëhiy, who came and leaned against his side. Inmanuàr looked gravely at Meridy. “Follow my good dog,” he said to her. “The God’s hand lies over him. He will never guide you wrong.”

  Then Inmanuàr turned to hold out his hand in the same way to the fire horse stallion, who paced forward as tamely as a dog and shoved his muzzle into the boy’s palm. “You, none of us expected,” Inmanuàr said to the beast. “Your speed and ferocity might be enough, at the end, if only we can come to the end together.”

  “The end, is it?” said Meridy. “And you have it all planned, do you?”

  “And plans go wrong, you will say, and I can’t disagree. Whatever moment you see in which you might oppose Tai-Enchar, I hope you will seize it, for all our sakes. But not here, and not yet. This is not that moment. The memory of Moran Diorr holds all our hope and all our fear. Do you understand?”

  But before Meridy could say no and demand better answers, Inmanuàr stepped back, and back again, and flicked out, gone.

  Meridy swung around, trying to see in every direction at once, certain that in another heartbeat, the witch-king would come. She had to find that other road that Inmanuàr had commanded her to take. Or Iëhiy had to show it to her, but she had to be ready to see which way the dog went, ready to follow him—ready to help Herren follow him, even though he didn’t have the eyes of a witch. She seized the young prince’s hand, casting the mulberry pastry into the dust.

  Diöllin said imperatively, “Mery, we have to—” But before she could finish her sentence, the dusty sunlight folded back around them and the summer air dimmed. The fire horse gave a series of aggressive little half lunges, snorting, and Iëhiy, every translucent hair along his spine standing on end, snarled. Niniol stepped in front of them all, his sword glimmering like ice in his translucent hand.

  Stooping, Meridy snatched up a handful of dust and said to Iëhiy, “Go! Show us the road!”

  The hound snarled again, ignoring her. And then Jaift stepped out of the fold in the light.

  It was Jaift. But her eyes were black, and her mien, contemplative and brooding, was nothing like her ordinary cheerful generosity. Meridy couldn’t tell at all what the person behind those black eyes was thinking. She shaped Jaift’s name without sound. She’d left her friend behind, she’d seen no choice and she’d been so sure that all their enemies would follow her—she’d hoped so hard that Jaift, whom everyone liked and who could talk anyone into anything, would be safe. And now she saw that Tai-Enchar had swept poor Jaift up and taken her for his own. This was not Jaift at all. This was a servitor. It was the witch-king himself.

  It was unbearable.

  Meridy started forward, though she had no idea what she intended to do; though she knew there was actually nothing she could do. She was aware of Niniol shouting at her, trying to grip her shoulders and stop her, and she knew he was right, but she strode right through him anyway, and Jaift, black-eyed Jaift, looked her in the face and smiled a faint, chilling smile.

  “Get out of her!” Meridy cried. “Let her go!”

  But the witch-king only smiled, and lifted Jaift’s hand toward Meridy, and took a step in her direction.

  Iëhiy, with a sound somewhere between a snarl and a whine, whirled and fled, and the fire horse raked his claws across the dusty earth, snapped at the air, sank down on his haunches, and sprang away, following the hound.

  “Meridy!” shouted Diöllin, breathless and intense with horror. “Stop! Herren needs you!”

  Though she was sick with horror, Meridy knew the princess was right. She backed away from Jaift, from the horrible thing Tai-Enchar had made of Jaift, and seized Herren’s hand hard in hers, and fled after the fire horse.

  She abandoned Jaift to their enemy. It was the worst thing she had ever done, but she did it, fleeing into the ethereal, following Iëhiy, who always knew where he was and where he should go.

  From somewhere, seeming very far away, came the hound’s ringing bay answering her call, and around them, the light tilted. Meridy thought the air opened up and slammed down again in a thunderclap of silence greater than sound, and she was suddenly somewhere…else.

  She stood in a sleeting torrent of light. Light tangled in her hair, light trailed from her hands and filled her eyes. She found a cold like deep winter striking into her lungs, and that seemed wrong; wasn’t it summer? Yet snow crunched underfoot and naked black trees surrounded her, and the light was all wrong, and the air was…not right, either, somehow.

  She swayed, swept by a wave of vertigo. But before she could lose her balance completely, strong hands closed on her shoulders.

  It was Niniol. In this place, he looked like a living man: big and gruff and solid, with grizzled hair and, across his jaw, the thin scar pale on weathered skin only a couple shades lighter than hers. When he tilted his head and lifted a wry eyebrow at her, he looked exactly like himself.

  Meridy tried to catch her breath. She managed to say after a moment, in a voice that almost sounded like her own, “Well, so we ran into dreams, but not Tai-Enchar’s realm, thank the God!” She glanced around at the leafless winter wood. The full moon rode high above the black trees; its silvery light poured down around them. Iëhiy was nowhere to be seen, and she felt bereft.

  “Oh, it’s a realm of dreams, all right,” Niniol agr
eed. His tone was grim, even resigned, but he did not seem to think they faced any immediate threat. He tilted his head back, lifting his face to the pale moonlight. “A soldier recognizes this place. We’ve come to the God’s very doorstep. Should we venture farther, we’d take the White Road in truth.”

  Meridy nodded, feeling that he was right. “If this is the God’s doorstep, we daren’t stay long, or we’ll become echoes of ourselves and then we’ll never be able to go back, only on. But where’s Iëhiy? And the others?” How had she lost the prince? Hadn’t she had hold of him? She was terrified for the boy, but Niniol only nodded past her. Turning, she found the frozen wood stretching back and back and back, endlessly. But coming toward them, Herren and Diöllin, hand in hand. The princess looked just as she had in life, except perhaps angrier and more determined.

  “You saw that!” she said to Meridy, as soon as they’d come all together. “That was Tai-Enchar! He’s taken your friend for a servitor—”

  “Obviously!” snapped Meridy, heartsick at the thought of it and furious at Diöllin for putting that truth into words.

  Diöllin, like Niniol, seemed as solid as a living person in this place of dreams.

  Herren held his sister’s hand, but not like a child clinging to an adult. He held her hand as though he were afraid, but not afraid for himself. He held her hand as though he feared if he let go, she might fall away from him and vanish into the endless winter. He said thinly, “If we defeat the witch-king, we might save Jaift. That’s all we can do for her now. But first we need to return to the world of men. How are we going to do that?”