by Diana Rivers
There was such spite and contempt in her voice I almost choked on it. It was fortunate for us all I could not inflict any real harm, or she might have regretted my skill with tools. “It seems a shame,” I said back to her, when I could breathe again, “that what you learned in that tavern was to wait on tables and to charm men, not skills that will be of much value here.”
Pell looked over and said sharply, “It would be better if you both paid attention to your own work instead of trying to best each other. Take heed, Tazzi, you have broken a nail there and now it will be hard to pull.” Pell herself worked swiftly and easily, all the while talking and petting and stroking the horses as she had the night before. She seemed to me more gentle and tender with horses than with humans.
When we finished, there was a pile of horseshoes and nails. Pell gathered them all up into a sack and hid them in her pit, saying, “All for later. Nothing should go to waste. Who knows when or how it will be needed.” Before we could leave, Pell had Renaise rub dirt into the saddles she was going to use and so finish their transformation from the guards’ smart issue to poor and much-used farm tack. “Now we go to the bog and let it work its magic on these horses.”
When we mounted at last, Renaise sidled up next to me and muttered by my ear, “It is a wonder that poor little creature is strong enough to carry you such distances. She looks to be not much more than a farmer’s cart-pony.”
That stung, of course, for it was close to the truth. So I answered with equal venom, “It is good that yours is big and stocky considering the bulk he is forced to bear. Even so he was puffing fit to die after that first run.”
Pell paid us no more heed. She rode out ahead, whistling and calling to our band of extra horses. Some of those stolen horses were sleek and well fed and looked to be of prize stock. Though Pell could have had her choice, I noticed that she still rode the same sorry-looking beast she had ridden the night before. He was a little cart-horse, not much bigger than Marshlegs, thin and angular with a blotchy, gray-brown coat, clearly no thing of beauty. As I was pondering this, Renaise pressed forward to catch up to Pell. I found myself riding behind them, trying to deal with this new thing called anger.
Pellandrea was bad enough with her rough ways and her orders, more like the coarse boys who were my brother’s friends than like any girls I had ever seen. In spite of this there was much I liked, or at least admired, there. Renaise, on the other hand, I found hardly bearable. Never in my life had I taken such a quick dislike to anyone. Everything she did cut me wrong, the way she moved or spoke, her little gestures, her simpering way of looking at Pell, and most of all her arrogance toward me.
There was no doubt that it was mutual. She had as little use for me. I think she saw me as a fool of a country girl, a dirt-child who had stayed in her village of cow dung and chicken feathers when she could have gone out into the big world and made something of herself. For myself I did not think much of this big world of hers if the town of Hamishair was any sample—an oversized refuse heap with rubbish left in the streets to rot.
If Renaise had not had powers, she would have struck me as very ordinary, a plump, witless serving-girl with not a thought in her head who worked waiting tables in her uncle’s tavern and was much puffed up with herself for little reason. Clearly she could not have saved herself from so much as a mouse trap if Pell had not come to her rescue. At that moment I chose not to think what my fate would have been without Pell’s timely intervention. All this grated on my spirit as we rode. It was like gravel rubbing in a boot. When I saw Renaise speak to Pell and then glance back in my direction, I ground my teeth, imagining her spiteful and insulting words.
At last Renaise wearied and dropped back. I took this chance to ride up next to Pell and say some of my own feelings, hoping for her agreement. Instead, Pell answered sharply, “What does any of that matter, Tazzi? She is one of us. That is what counts. Nothing else is of any real importance.” This only added to my store of bitterness. I said nothing more on the subject of Renaise and we rode on in silence.
By now we were well out of the Twisted Forest and rode under more normal trees. This at least was a relief. That unnatural growth had been oppressing my spirit more than I realized. Almost as soon as I felt the comfort of that change, our little track ended in a larger road, a road full of deep wagon tracks that looked much like the farm-to-market road between Nemanthi and Koorish. I could hear voices. All my fears came screaming back in force. Pell put a hand on my arm saying, “Steady, Tazzi. Keep your calm.” She beckoned for Renaise to ride up beside us. I glanced back anxiously for the extra horses, but they were nowhere in sight. I could feel waves of fear coming from Renaise on Pell’s other side. At that moment I even felt some empathy for her.
“Listen now, both of you,” Pell said quickly. “I want you to remember two things, two quite opposite things. You must keep them always in your minds. One is that you have powers. Driven to it, those powers will likely keep you safe, though for our purposes, of course, we would rather not have them shown. The other is that those we pass will see us as we seem, as we ourselves wish to be seen, as long as we maintain that appearance and do not panic. You have only to play that part, to be the person they think you are. Now breathe deeply and remember to keep calm at the center.”
There were some riders coming toward us on the road, and two wagons that appeared loaded with people and possessions. It looked to be a whole family on the move. I tried to still the fluttering bird of fear in my chest. It was beating its wings in a frenzy against the cage of my ribs. “How do humans live with this thing?” I whispered urgently to Pell.
“They are used to it. They learn from the time they are little,” she whispered back. Then, as we approached the riders, she drew slightly ahead of us. “A good day to you all and good health,” she said, touching the edge of her hat and giving a nod of salutation. The first man mumbled, “Good day,” keeping his eyes lowered. To my surprise the other kept his silence, looking nervous and apprehensive, almost guilty. The old woman who sat in the lead wagon did not greet us. She had her shawl pulled so low it almost hid her face and she kept her head down as if watching the road. From somewhere, somewhere quite close by, I could feel waves of fear as loud as an alarm bell to my inner ear.
“You are moving, I see. I wish you good luck in your next home.” This innocent greeting of Pell’s was met with a wave of agitation that flew through the whole group. A little boy in the next wagon began to cry. When his mother tried to hush him, the fear swelled out again, louder than before. I glanced at Pell. I could tell from the look on her face she felt it too. She flashed me a picture of a young woman lying hidden under the bedding of the second wagon.
Once past us, those others seemed eager to press on. I could hear them urging their oxen to move faster, though in my experience oxen have only one pace, that one being slow and steady. “Goddess bless your venture,” Pell called after them.
“They had one of us hidden in the wagon,” Renaise said breathlessly.
“Yes, and now that you have seen what guilt and fear look like on display, try not to imitate it. Those folk might as well be carrying a sign. I hope they get where they are going before they have to pass any that mean them harm.”
I shuddered, “Are we to do nothing?”
“What can we do that will not frighten them more and endanger us as well? They are fleeing to save her. They will hardly turn her over to strangers, strange men at that.”
We passed a few more farm folk on the road before we turned off onto another trail that took us back into woods, but I was never that fearful again. I was even able to touch my cap and nod and say, “Good day,” as I had seen Pell do. Soon after we were on our new path I heard horses in back of us. I turned quickly, but it was only our free horses trotting to catch up to us.
For a ways the woods were thick. Then they appeared to be thinning. The ground grew damp and spongy underfoot. Soon after that we came to the edge of a marsh or bog. It was much like the
one near my village where I often went to hunt for herbs and roots. At Pell’s signal we both slid from our horses.
“This part is full of risk, for now we must strip off our clothes and so be naked a while, but I know of no other way, for the mud would soon ruin everything we wear.” As soon as we had our clothes and tack and packs concealed between some rocks, we rode naked and bootless on the horses’ backs, going as far into the marsh as seemed safe. The horses were reluctant. It took constant urging to keep them moving forward with the mud sucking at their hooves. When they would go no farther, we slipped from their backs. Standing knee deep in ooze, we applied mud by hand to their necks and heads and backs and wherever it was needed. We then had to go back for the others and were soon caked and coated ourselves, daubed beyond recognition. We looked like gray ghosts or the crude work of an unskilled Potter—such work as the Potter’s children sell at fairs—come to life and staggering about.
All the while we worked Renaise lost no chance at mocking my efforts or belittling me in some way. I defended myself in kind as best I could. We created such a brew of ill will with our traded insults that at last Pell turned on us both. “Enough,” she hissed, “more than enough. I have run through my store of patience, which was not large to start with. Stop playing at being fools. Have you forgotten that there are men out there who curse our very existence, who would like to kill us by whatever means they could? Right now they are out searching for us. There is no need to help them by making war among ourselves. Our lives are hard enough without that. We may not love each other, we may not even like each other, at least at first, but we have a bond deeper than blood or family. Alone, we have not the power to hold against so many. Together, who knows what we can do.” By the end of this she was holding forth with passion, gesturing with both hands like a mad gray phantom. I felt a bubble of laughter swelling in my throat and swallowed hard.
Suddenly Pell herself grinned, cracking her gray mask. “And besides, what makes you think I find you both the most charming and delightful company? That I would have chosen you out of all others had I been free to do so?” She looked hard at each of us to make her point, then said forcefully, “I had no choice. The Goddess dumped you at my feet. I must make the best of it and so must you. Now please, if you have nothing good to say to one another, be silent. We must get done and be gone from here as quickly as we can.” Chastened, we did not even look at each other as we worked in silence, rubbing the horses down with leaves till they were evenly coated in mud, and then tangling twigs and burrs in their manes and tails.
By the time we had finished and were on the road again it was late in the day, close to dark. We had done well. Those sorry-looking creatures could never have been mistaken for town stock or guardsmen’s horses. From our hard work and the effects of the mud, they had lost all signs of gloss and care. Pell, after she had us safely on the right trail, rode back to cover our footprints in the mud as best she could. When she rejoined us, she was leading three horses on a long lead rope with gunny sacks tied over their saddles. The rest she must have found a place for along the way, as I no longer heard them in back of us.
For me this ride was a misery of discomfort. The clay had dried and cracked under our clothes, setting up a torment of itching that could not be scratched. There had been nowhere to wash but in the puddles of water that formed in the horse’s hoof prints. With that and some dampened leaves we had done our best. When I saw the look of deep distaste on Renaise’s face as she struggled into her clothes, I was tempted to mock her for her fine town ways. I bit back my words. She in turn said nothing ugly to me of looking like a true dirt-child though she may well have been tempted. We rode mostly in silence. After a while our path began to widen, becoming almost a small road. By the time we reached the road we sought, we were at a true crossroad. Even so, it was hard to see, for it was dark now, with only enough earth glow to peer a few feet ahead of us.
“Here is where we part,” Pell said abruptly. “I have put you on the road several miles south of Hamishair, heading toward your village. It is this crossroad you must come back to. There is a sign right here for Menaltron in one direction and Hamishair in the other. That is what marks this place. You can tell that to any that should need to find us. How many days will it take you to go and come back? How many at the very most?”
“If I could ride openly and without fear, four, or perhaps five altogether. Having to be secret and not knowing what I may encounter, three down and three back, then at least one more to find and warn the others and get them on the road. Do not look for me before the seventh day.” I heard the tremor in Renaise’s voice and knew the effort by which she kept it steady. To my surprise, I felt not mockery but fear for her. It was a dark, lonely night to be out and a long road to go, with much danger on it.
“Seven days, then. We shall look for you here on the night of the seventh and again for the next four nights. After that, if you have not come...” Pell shrugged, then went on quickly. “Meet with us after the turn of the night. We will be watching from trees, one on each side of the road. Hoot like an owl as you approach. We will hoot three times in answer if all is clear and it is safe to meet. If all is safe with you, hoot back three times. If not, hoot once and ride on. We will watch and try to catch you later or meet again the next night. Or, if we feel it is unsafe, we will hoot once and you go on. Is that all clear?” Renaise was nodding and Pell went on, “If the others can bring back more horses or supplies, all to the good, but do absolutely nothing that makes for more danger. This ride is risky enough. Ride well, Renaise, and come back safely with the others. Goddess go with you.” They hugged each other, soldier style, without dismounting. Then Renaise was gone into the night, riding one horse and leading three others. Suddenly it seemed very large and dark out there. With my tongue glued in my mouth, I had not even wished her well. I felt a sudden ache in my heart.
Going back I let Marshlegs pick her way and followed Pell in silence, each of us deep in our own thoughts. At some moment I heard horses behind us, but since Pell seemed to take no notice I assumed them to be ours. Suddenly, out of that silence, Pell said softly, “I cannot help but notice that you both have the disease of jealousy. It is another one of those things like fear and anger and hate that are part of the human inheritance and probably new to you. Not a pleasant feeling, surely, but you will have to learn to endure it with a little more grace and even to control it some. Besides, it is wasted on me. I am not worth it. My heart goes out to no one. What skills my hands possess can as easily be learned by another.”
I made no answer. I could not imagine what Pell meant nor why she was saying this to me.
Chapter Five
Pell was wrong, of course, about the skill of her hands. It was not just an ordinary skill such as anyone could easily learn. And she was right about her heart, but all that comes later on in this story. The first thing Pell set out to do that next morning was to find safe hiding for the extra horses. She had us up and riding before dawn. My eyes were gritty from lack of sleep. My limbs felt thick, heavy, and unwilling. I was riding along behind her, head nodding, dozing with my eyes half closed, when she turned suddenly and said with a flash of anger, “Pay attention, Tazzi, and watch carefully where we go. It is important that you know, as well as I do, where the horses are hidden.” After that she pointed out landmarks to me at each turning, a snapped tree top, a boulder in the shape of a horse. “How will you ever learn to find your way? You seem content to ride along after me, paying no mind at all to where we go!” Stung by the truth of her words, I opened my eyes wide, determined to remember each sign and mark.
We left the first four horses in a small, natural enclosure, away from the shelter but close enough to be quickly fetched if needed. The rest, about ten or twelve, I believe, we took farther off to a fair-sized clearing at the top of a hill.
Now I must tell you, this part was not easily done. The hill itself presented quite a challenge, especially on horseback. We had left our own two at the
bottom. I was riding a stranger who was not at all glad to have me on her back. We had to urge the others to come with us. As Pell knew of no path up, we were forced to pick our way as best we could. For much of the climb, the ground was covered with a scatter of black, jagged rocks that slipped and slid dangerously underfoot. In places the hill grew so steep we had to dismount and stumble up on foot. By the time we finally pulled ourselves over the top, all of us, horse and human alike, were heaving and panting and drenched with sweat.
The clearing, after that hard struggle, appeared suddenly before us as a sweet and unexpected surprise, a place of magic. It was a soft, green bowl of a meadow hollowed in the hill top and seeming to fill it from one side to the other. The grass that grew there was unnaturally lush, of a brilliant hue that almost hurt the eyes. Everywhere the meadow was dotted with bright flowers, dancing and shifting in the breeze.
“What is this place?” I asked, still gasping for breath. “It is like nothing I have ever seen.”
“It is the worn-down top of an ancient fire-mountain, or such is the local talk. I can well believe it from its strange shape. This is another of those places considered haunted, and so made safer for us by the fears of others.”
I thought this hard way up was all the safety that was needed, but haunted or not, I liked its aspect far better than that of the Twisted Forest. There was even a pond at its center, bright blue under a bright blue sky, beckoning its invitation to us after that murderous ride.
