by Terry Brooks
“I believe that.” She frowned.
“Look, I’ll try to explain some of it now,” he offered. “Rovers travel in Families—you already know that much. The term ‘Family’ is somewhat misleading though because its members are not always blood-related. Rovers frequently trade or even sell wives and children to other camps. It is a kind of communal property situation. Each Family has one Leader—a father figure who makes all the decisions. Women are considered subservient to men; that is what is called the Way. For the Rovers, that is the natural order of things. They believe quite firmly that women are to serve and obey the men who protect and provide for them. It is a tradition among them that those entering their camp should observe this custom in order to be made welcome. That’s why I took the water first. That’s why I left you to clean up after we treated the sick. I wanted to convince them that I understood and honored their beliefs. If they believed that, there was a chance they would give Artaq back to us.”
“It doesn’t seem to have worked out that way,” Amberle remarked.
“No, not yet,” he admitted. “But they have let us come along with them; ordinarily they would not even consider such a thing. Rovers have little use for outsiders.”
“They have let us come along because Cephelo is curious about you and wants to find out more than he has been told.” She paused. “Eretria has more than a passing interest in you as well. She made that quite apparent.”
He grinned in spite of himself. “And I suppose you think I enjoyed all that dancing and drinking last night?”
“If you really want to know—yes, that is exactly what I think.”
She said it without the faintest trace of a smile. Wil sat back, his head throbbing with the movement.
“All right, I admit that I overdid it. But there was a good reason for what I did, despite what you may think. It was necessary for them to believe that I wasn’t smarter than they were. If they believed that I was, we would both be dead. So I let myself drink and dance and behave as any other outsider would under the same circumstances—just to keep them from becoming suspicious.” He shrugged. “I cannot help what Eretria thinks about me.”
“I am not asking you to.” She grew suddenly angry. “I don’t care what Eretria thinks about you. I only care that you don’t give us both away by being foolish!”
She saw the look of surprise that crept into his eyes and she flushed darkly.
“Just be careful, will you?” she added quickly, took the empty cup from his hands, and turned away, moving to the far end of the wagon. Wil stared after her curiously.
A moment later she was back, calm and collected once more.
“There is something else you should know about. Early this morning the caravan met with an old line trapper traveling east. He had just passed through the Tirfing—the lake country fronting the Westland forests below the Mermidon. He warned Cephelo not to go in. He said there was a Devil there.”
Wil frowned. “A Devil?”
“He called it a Devil—it is a name the Rovers use for something not human, something evil.” She paused meaningfully. “It may be that this Devil is one of the Demons that has broken through the Forbidding.”
“What did Cephelo say about this Devil?”
Amberle smiled faintly. “He is not afraid of Devils. He intends to go into the Tirfing anyway—his mind is made up on that. I think he has business that requires that he pass that way. The rest of the Family is not too happy about his decision.”
Wil nodded. “I would be inclined to go along with them.”
The Elven girl gave him a long, careful look. “I would not be inclined to go along with anyone in this camp, if I were you. Keep that in mind if you are offered any more wine.”
She wheeled without a word and moved back once again to the far end of the wagon, hiding her movements from the Valeman. Wil started up after her irritably, but the pain in his head made him reconsider quickly. He sat back carefully, resting his throbbing head against a piece of woven reed backing lining the wagon wall. One thing was certain, he thought glumly She need not worry about him drinking any more of that wine.
The caravan traveled steadily westward until midday, then halted long enough for the Rovers to partake of a quick lunch. By this time, Wil was feeling much improved and was able to eat some of the dried meats and vegetables that comprised the meal. Cephelo spoke to him briefly, inquiring politely as to his health, then moved away, his mind clearly on other matters. There were vague mutterings among the Rovers of the rumored Devil, and it was apparent to the Valeman that the Family was more than a little concerned with the old trapper’s report. Rovers were a superstitious lot anyway, and Cephelo’s decision to ignore a warning such as this one was not popular.
The remainder of the afternoon passed quickly. Wil took a turn at driving Cephelo’s wagon while the old woman napped in the back. Amberle rode beside him as he guided the four-horse team forward in the caravan line through the broad expanse of the grasslands, humming and singing softly to herself but saying very little to him. The Valeman left her alone, concentrating on the task at hand, staring out thoughtfully into the emptiness of the plains. Several times Cephelo rode a big sorrel past them, his forest-green cloak billowing out behind him, his dark face covered with a sheen of sweat from the heat of the day. Once Wil caught a quick glimpse of Artaq as the Rover relief horses were driven past the wagons toward a watering hole somewhere ahead of the caravan. He was not being ridden, and it appeared that as yet Cephelo had not decided how he would use the big black—which meant, hopefully, that he had not decided if he intended to keep him.
A little more than an hour before sunset, they entered the Tirfing, a land of small lakes and surrounding woodlands spread out beneath the rim of the grasslands. Far to the west, beneath the red ball of the setting sun, lay the dark mass of the Westland forests. The Rover wagons wound their way down out of the plains into the wooded stretches of the Tirfing along a rutted earthen trail worn by the passing of countless other travelers before them. The heat of the open grasslands dissipated quickly as they entered the sheltering trees, shadows lengthening across the trail before them with the onset of dusk. Through breaks in the woodlands, they began to glimpse bits and pieces of the lakes that dotted the country about them.
It was dark when Cephelo finally brought them to a halt in a large clearing, ringed by oaks and overlooking a small lake several hundred feet to the north. The wagons swung into the familiar circle, rumbling and creaking to a weary halt. Wil was so stiff that he could barely move. While the Rover men worked to unhitch the teams and the women began preparations for the evening meal, the Valeman climbed down gingerly from the hard board seat and tried walking off the stiffness. Amberle chose to walk another way, and he did not bother to follow her. He limped through the caravan circle to the fringes of the surrounding trees, pausing there to stretch himself painfully and allow the blood to circulate through cramped limbs.
Moments later he heard footsteps and turned to find Eretria approaching, her slim form another shadow in the evening dusk. She was dressed in high boots and leather riding clothes, a red silk scarf about her waist and another at her throat. Black hair tumbled down about her shoulders, loose and windblown. She smiled as she came up to him, her dark eyes twinkling mischievously.
“Do not stray too far, Wil Ohmsford,” she advised. “A Devil might find you and then what would you do?”
“Let him have me.” Wil grimaced, rubbing his backside. “Anyway, I do not plan on doing much straying until after I’ve been fed.”
He eased himself down into the tall grass, placing his back against one of the oaks. Eretria watched him wordlessly for a moment, then sat down beside him.
“Where have you been all day?” the Valeman asked conversationally.
“Watching you,” she replied, then smiled wickedly as she saw the look that appeared on his face. “You didn’t see me, of course. You weren’t supposed to.”
He hesitated uncomfortably. “
Why were you watching me?”
“Cephelo wanted you watched.” She arched her eyebrows. “He doesn’t trust you—or the Elven girl you claim is your sister.”
She was staring at him boldly now, as if daring him to contradict her. Wil felt a quick moment of panic.
“Amberle is my sister,” he stated as assertively as he could.
Eretria shook her head. “She is no more your sister than I am Cephelo’s daughter. She does not look at you as a sister would; her eyes say that she is something else. Still, it makes little difference to me. If you wish that she be your sister, then so shall she be. Just don’t let Cephelo catch you playing this little game.”
Now it was Wil’s turn to stare. “Wait a minute,” he said after a moment’s pause. “What do you mean she is no more my sister than you are Cephelo’s daughter? He said you were his daughter, didn’t he?”
“What Cephelo says and what is true are not necessarily the same—in fact, very seldom the same.” She leaned forward. “Cephelo has no children. He bought me when I was five from my father. My father was poor and could offer me nothing. He had other daughters, so one would not be missed. Now I belong to Cephelo. But I am not his daughter.”
She said it so matter-of-factly that for a moment Wil could think of nothing to say in response. She saw his confusion and laughed merrily.
“We are Rovers, Wil—you know our ways. Besides, it could have been much worse for me. I could have been given to a much lesser man. Cephelo is a Leader; he has respect and position. As his daughter, I benefit from this. I have more freedom in my life than most women. And I have learned much, Healer. It has made me more than a match for most.”
“I would not want to be the one to test that,” he admitted. “But why are you telling me this?”
She pursed her lips teasingly. “Because I like you—why else?”
“That is what I am wondering.” He ignored the look.
She straightened abruptly, her face petulant.
“Are you married to this Elven girl? Is she promised to you?”
His surprise was evident. “No.”
“Good. I thought not.” The petulance disappeared. She paused, her smile wicked once more. “Cephelo does not plan to return your horse to you.”
Wil considered the statement carefully. “You know this?”
“I know how he is. He will not return your horse. He will let you go on your way if you do not cause him any trouble or try to take back the horse, but he will never give it back to you willingly.”
The Valeman’s face was expressionless. “I’ll ask again—why are you telling me this?”
“Because I can help you.”
“And why should you do that?”
“Because you, in turn, can help me.”
Wil frowned. “How?”
Eretria crossed her legs before her and placed her hands on her knees, rocking back. Her dark eyes danced with amusement.
“I would guess, Wil Ohmsford, that you are much more than what you have told us—that you are most certainly more than a simple Healer traveling the grasslands of Callahorn with your sister. I would guess that this Elven girl has been given into your care and that you accompany her as an escort, perhaps a protector.” One brown hand came up hurriedly. “Do not bother to deny this, Healer—a lie from your lips would be wasted on me, for I am the daughter of the world’s foremost liar and know the art far better than you.”
She smiled and put one hand on his arm. “I like you, Wil—there is no lie in that. I want you to have your horse back again. Obviously it is important that you get him back or you would not have come after us. Alone, you will not be successful. But I could help you.”
Wil looked doubtful. “Why would you do that?” he asked finally.
“If I help you regain your horse, then I want you to take me with you when you go.”
“What!” The exclamation was spoken before he could think better of it.
“Take me with you,” she repeated firmly.
“I cannot do that!”
“You can if you wish your horse back.”
He shook his head helplessly. “Why would you want to leave? You just finished telling me that …”
She cut him short. “All that is in the past. Cephelo has decided that it is time that I married. In Rover tradition, he will select my husband and for a price, turn me over to him. My life has been good, but I have no intention of being sold a second time.”
“Couldn’t you just leave on your own? You seem capable of that.”
“I am capable of a great deal more, should it come to that, Healer. That is why you have need of me. If you take back your horse—something I doubt you can do without my help—the Rovers will come after you. Since you will be pursued in any event, it will cause you no further burden to take me as well as the horse—especially since I know enough of Rovers to give you the guidance you will need to elude them.”
She shrugged. “As for leaving on my own, I have given thought to that. If there were no other choice, I would do so rather than be sold again. But where would I go? A Rover is welcome nowhere and, like it or not, a Rover is what I am. Alone, I would be little better than an outcast among the races, and my life would not be a pleasant one. But with you I could find acceptance; you are a Healer and you have respect. I could even travel with you. I could aid you in the mending of the ill. You would find that I …”
“Eretria,” Wil cut in gently. “There is no point in discussing it. I cannot take you with me. I can take no one with me but Amberle.”
Her face darkened. “Do not be so quick to spurn me, Healer.”
“This has nothing to do with spurning you,” he responded, at the same time trying to decide how much he could tell her. Not very much, he quickly realized. “Listen. It would not be safe for you to travel anywhere with me right now. When I leave, Cephelo will not be the only one looking for me. There will be others, much more dangerous than he. They search for me now. If I took you along, you would be in great danger. I cannot allow that.”
“The Elven girl travels with you,” she insisted.
“Amberle travels with me because she must.”
“Words. I do not believe them. You will take me with you, Wil Ohmsford. You will take me with you because you must.”
He shook his head. “I cannot.”
She rose abruptly, her beautiful dark face angry and set. “You will change your mind, Healer. The time will come when you will have no other choice.”
She turned and stalked away. A dozen yards from him, she paused and glanced back suddenly, her black eyes fixing on his. From out of the shadow of her face flashed that wondrous, dazzling smile.
“I am for you, Wil Ohmsford,” she called.
She held his gaze a moment longer, then turned and continued walking back toward the Rover caravan. The Valeman stared after her in mild amazement.
16
Dinner was set out and eaten, and it was shortly thereafter that the deep, booming cough broke through the peaceful sounds of the night and froze them into stillness. It came from the south end of the lake on which the Rovers were encamped—once, twice and then was gone. All heads turned as one, faces startled and expectant. Moments later the cough sounded again, rumbling out of the darkness like the huffing roar of some monstrous bull calling in challenge. The Rovers scrambled hurriedly for their weapons, then rushed to the perimeter of the circle of wagons and peered out into the night. But the sound died, and this time it did not repeat. Cephelo and more than a dozen of his men stood waiting for a time, anticipating something further. When nothing happened, he gruffly ordered everyone back to the fire and the evening wine. Joking loudly about Devils and things that prowled the night, he boasted that none of these would dare to come into a Rover camp without first seeking permission. Cups of wine were refilled and distributed, and everyone drank heartily. Yet glances continued to stray in the direction of the sound.
Half-an-hour later it came again, closer than before, sudden
and heavy in the night. Startled Rovers sprang to their feet, snatching up their weapons a second time and racing for the edge of the camp. Wil went with them this time, Amberle only a step behind as he reached a gap between two of the Rover wagons and stared out guardedly. There was nothing to be seen. Nothing moved. Hesitantly, Cephelo stalked to the very edge of the woods surrounding the small clearing, both hands securely grasping the handle of a heavy broadsword. He stood for a time, his tall form black against the trees, poised to defend himself. There was only silence. Finally he turned and walked back again, his face set. There was no further joking. The horses, which were tethered on a line along a small inlet from the lake, were brought close in to the caravan in order that they could be better watched. Guards were placed all about the perimeter of the clearing and warned to keep their eyes open. Everyone else was taken back inside the circle of the wagons where they settled themselves within the comforting light of the fire. The wine was passed about, though fewer drank this time. Conversation resumed, but it was low and guarded and the word “Devil” was mentioned frequently. The men kept the women and children close, and everyone looked thoroughly disquieted.
Wil walked Amberle several paces back from the anxious group, his head lowered.
“I want you to stay close,” he said quietly. “Do not leave me for any reason.”
“I won’t,” she promised. Her eyes were intense as they found his and then glanced away quickly. “Do you think …?”
Cephelo cut short her thought, calling suddenly for music, clapping his hands and encouraging those about him to do likewise. The Valeman and the Elven girl joined in obediently. A few weak cheers greeted Cephelo as he moved about the fire.
Wil glanced about uneasily. “If there is anything out there, and if whatever it is attacks this camp, then you and I are getting out. We will try to reach Artaq, then make a run for it. Are you willing to risk it?”
