"Why didn't you tell me, little bro—ah, rather . . . my lord . . . ? My lord Hordanu?" Gelanor bowed deeply, his face crimsoned. "My deepest apologies, my lord. To be sure, I did not know."
"But Mistress Katie . . ." Kal, in his confusion, ignored the big man, who remained nearly doubled over before him. "How did you know me as anything more than a bard?"
"There is much, Master Kalaquinn, much that I know, and much more that I do not. But that you are High Bard of all of Ahn Norvys was clear to me the first time that I set my eyes upon you. It is etched in your being. And that you would come to visit me is not entirely unexpected. I have anticipated this moment, though you are more in the spring of life than I had imagined the Hordanu to be." She held Kal in a look coloured with just the slightest edge of suspicious scrutiny. This, however, faded quickly and vanished as she smiled warmly again. "But be that as it may, you are welcome, Master Kalaquinn, for now has Ruah, most gentle of the anagoroi, seen fit to guide your feet to my door. I do also apologize for my bard's overly familiar and less than respectful manner."
"My deepest thanks for your welcome, and for your assistance this past night and day, Mistress Katie. Rest assured that Master Gelanor has been most shrewd, attending to things more important than the petty courtesies owed the office of High Bard. I'd rather than not forego the courtesy and yet remain his 'little brother.' As long as I am 'little brother' to him, I remain in his good graces, and a safer place for the moment I cannot imagine."
Kal paused, then turned his attention to the bard still bent over beside him.
"Come now—stand, Gelanor. Is it not simple prudence that I conceal my identity? Given the nature of these days and the journey I undertake? Surely you, Master Waldscathe, understand that." Kal chuckled lightly as the great bard straightened himself. "Consider also, big brother, that doing so has afforded me the chance to turn table on you and render you payment in kind for your wolfish deceptions."
"Aye, payment in kind, my lord," Gelanor said, grinning sheepishly, his colour going down, "and payment in full."
"Well, now," Katie said, looking from the giant red-haired bard to Kal, "you'd think that, in his life of desperate outlawry, he'd have learned that appearances are deceiving." She turned towards the vacant doorway of the ruins, beckoning him follow. "Come, then, Master Kalaquinn."
Kal felt the awkward stiffness of the moment begin to thaw and soften.
"This glence . . . ," he ventured, pointing around at the stones and overgrown rubble as he stepped behind the woman. "Why—?"
"Why is it fallen to wrack and ruin?" Katie said over her shoulder.
Kal nodded. "Yes, why?"
"It was found as it now stands. There is another glence that fills our need. It lies farther along Carric-thona. You shall see." Katie now led them out of the circle of stones towards the low hedge surrounding her cottage. Seeing the others making for the house, Gwyn left his stone and shambled in behind them.
"Me and my men, we've offered to repair it many a time, to be sure. We've offered to repair it and make it like it was built new," said Gelanor, looking ahead at Katie. He pressed beside Kal and seemed to the Hordanu to have wilted somewhat in his stature.
"But I've told them to hold off, to leave the ruins as they are." Katie stopped, turning back to the three men following her along the path to the cottage. "They are a reminder to me, these ruins, to us all, that we are but creatures of a day, that all we really accomplish, all we do, is as a puff of smoke before the wind. The crumbling masonry"—she looked past the men to the fallen glence—"and the weed-choked stones, they bid us be mindful of what happens to merely human strivings. They bid us be mindful of what is truly important . . . ." Her gaze lifted to Kal's face, and she laid a hand on his breast. "Here . . . This is the heart of the matter. In truth, it is what you are that will bear out through the ages. The grand doings of head and hand—these may say something that lasts to speak to coming generations . . . . But the heart. Ah, the heart, it speaks things unseen and unheard, hidden, quiet. It speaks to eternity."
Katie lowered her hand to her side and in silence resumed her way along the smooth gravel path bordered by raised flower beds, past an ivy-clad trellis arched over a summer table, to the door of her cottage. Her words puzzled Kal and struck him as curiously out of step with the evident care and time she devoted to the gardens and grounds surrounding the small cottage. He shook his head at the paradox and, in the charming prettiness of Mousehold, remembered the beauty of the Well.
"But there are times, are there not, times when we catch even just a glimpse of what lies beyond the busy passing of our days? Surely we can see something that will remain, something that will never crumble or know decay," Kal said with more vehemence than he'd intended.
Katie paused, turning to face Kal at the threshold of the door, her face marred by a frown.
"How do you mean?" she asked pointedly.
"I . . . Well . . . I-I mean . . . Back at Ruah's Well—"
"He caught sight of herself, of the white hind. Not once, but twice," Gelanor said, stepping forward with thumb and forefinger raised to show the count. Behind him, Gwyn nodded his corroboration of Gelanor's report, his jaw set and expression grim.
Katie glanced first at her bard and the mute Holdsman, then back at Kal. Her grey eyes bore a look of urgency, of an intensity that demanded a response.
"I-I did . . . ," Kal started. "I did. I saw the white hind, as real as you or me. I will never forget it."
A heavy silence fell over the group at the door to the cottage.
The woman bowed gravely and took Kal's hands in her own, as she had when they first met. "My lord Myghternos Hordanu . . ." She looked up into Kal's eyes, her own eyes growing wet. "My lord Myghternos Hordanu, in all the years we've lived here, there's not a one of us that has seen Ruah as you have. It is a privilege. It is a special privilege. No, more than that . . ." Katie's voice trailed off into silence for a moment. She broke her gaze from Kal, looking at his hands as she lifted them gently in her own, rocking them as if to add emphasis to her words. "But it is also as it should be. Yes, for she holds the Hordanu in her protection."
Kal nodded.
"Ah, me . . ." She sighed, let go Kal's hands, turned swiftly, and opened the door. "Come now, come in. Have a seat and break your fast. There's a pot of venison stew on the trivet."
"Courtesy of Baron Nuath's deer chase. A well-stocked larder, to be sure. Free of poachers, but not of wolf-men!" Laughing, Gelanor waggled the wolf's-head visor over his shoulder, then shepherded the two Holdsmen into the homely cottage.
Kal followed Gelanor's example as Gwyn followed Kal's, unslinging satchels, bows, and quivers, peeling off cloaks and boots, and unbuckling sword belts. All of these they hung on pegs behind the door or left neatly leaning by the wall.
The ceiling beams were hung with drying herbs above a floor flagged with well-worn slate. Katie had retreated to the hearth, where a small fire crackled happily beneath a heavy black pot suspended from the hook of a wrought-iron cooking stand. The woman lifted the lid and stirred its contents. A hearty thyme-spiced fragrance filled the air. Katie pointed to an oak trestle table lined with benches and covered with platters of cheese and bread, together with a moisture-beaded pitcher—ale, no doubt. Kal's appetite and thirst trebled in that instant. His mouth watered, and an ache clenched his gut.
Gelanor snatched up a handful of bowls from the table and marched to the fireplace. Standing over the stew pot, he inhaled, drawing a deep, savouring breath.
"Ah, Wood Maid!" He pronounced his approval and fumbled to produce a bowl, into which Katie ladled venison stew. "Here, for my lord Hordanu." He held out the bowl to Kal, who took it, nodding his thanks. "Now you, Gwyn. Come, lad," Gelanor said, beckoning the young man with another empty bowl, which he then held out to be filled with food. The two Holdsmen took their seats and sat waiting, looking hungrily at their bowls.
"Don't wait on us," Katie said. "You may eat. Please, eat."
&nb
sp; The Holdsmen obediently fell to their meal without hesitation.
"Will you have some yourself, Wood Maid?" Gelanor asked.
"No, not for me." Katie shook her head. "Go, take your fill and show our guests that besides your talents with knife and cudgel, pios and voice, you're a passing fine trencherman. You've more than earned it, by the sound of things. It was a hard night's work, and I must make certain that my chief wolf's-head remains in good mirth."
"With victuals like this," Gelanor said around a mouthful of venison, "you're like to keep me in good girth as well." He patted his stomach and grinned broadly. Gwyn looked up at Katie and smiled, still chewing, his mouth full of freshly buttered bread.
For some minutes no words were spoken as the three men sated their hunger. Katie fussed in a small alcove that served as her pantry, leaving the men to the work of their food. Presently she returned to the table and asked if there was anything more they needed.
"Mistress Katie, I thank you for your kind hospitality," Kal said, rising from the bench and the empty bowl in front of him, his brow furrowing with concern. "I don't mean to be rude, but I must be returning to the Well. The two skins I filled with healing water were broken, the water lost in our flight."
"Indeed, Gelanor mentioned as much," she replied calmly.
"But I have to have the water, for my father's sake, and then make haste on to Kingshead Cove." Grim-faced, Kal shivered. A chill of foreboding crept over him. "There's no telling what state he's in, what with his wound and the poison. Already I'm afraid I've lingered overlong."
"Stay, Master Kalaquinn." Katie gestured with upturned hand, an unexpected firmness in her voice. "You may not go."
Kal froze, speechless with shock. Gwyn stopped chewing and looked up, spoon held in midair, while Gelanor peered over the rim of the bowl he had lifted to his lips. This the bard lowered slowly to the table, setting it down with a gentle thump, and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
"There are things," Katie said, her tone softening, "things I would show you before you leave Mousehold. And there's little time, as you must resume a more pressing journey. There is not time for you to make the trip to Ruah's Well and back. There is not time."
Kal stared in disbelief. "But I—"
"Your folk await you, yes?"
"Aye, but my fath—"
"And the ship leaves at sunset tomorrow, yes?"
"Aye . . ."
"And Aelward expects your arrival, yes?"
"Aye, yes, he . . ." Kal knit his brow, bewildered. "But how do you—"
"There is much I would show you, Master Kalaquinn, and precious little time to do so. What's more, you need to take what rest you can, while you may. And there is no better rest to be had than that taken in the peace of Mousehold. There is simply no time to go to the Well, so do not worry yourself over the water." Katie flicked her hand dismissively.
"B-but y-you sent me off yesterday," Kal sputtered, his ire bubbling over. "Just yesterday, you sent me off on that journey—a journey, might I add, that about cost me my life—to fetch healing water, which was why I came here in the first place, to get the water, and now it's gone. And I need it. And you refuse to let me go for it? I-I . . ."
Katie's grey eyes flashed as she fixed Kal with a penetrating gaze and said calmly, "The water is not what brought you here, and the water is not of first importance. You did not make a journey for the water—you made the journey for its own sake. Your heart knows this, Kalaquinn. Let reason be led. In all journeys of life, it is not in achieving the goal but in striving for it that one's purpose is found. Peace. All will be well."
Kal was nearly beside himself with consternation. He gave Gelanor an imploring look, begging the bard for some explanation for the woman's obtuse, rigid, riddling manner. The big man merely hunched his shoulders up to a face that wore an expression of bemused innocence, as if to say, "What do I know?"
Kal sagged, defeated, and heaved a sigh. He sank back to the bench.
"Wood Maid," Gelanor ventured timidly. "Perhaps I might go in his stead?"
Katie's smile returned and, like the summer sun, chased away the vagrant mists of frustration that wound about the Hordanu. "Yes. Such was my hope, dear bard. And such is my desire, if you are willing."
"Aye, more than willing. More than willing, to be sure. I'll leave now," the bard said, then caught himself and turned to Kal. "If you would permit me to go for you?"
Kal nodded his assent, feeling somewhat giddy from the quick spin of events and emotion. "It would please me greatly if you would render me that service."
"Good, then, little brother! Um . . . ah . . . my humble apologies again, Master Kalaquinn." The bard blushed once more at his slip.
"Not at all," Kal said, laughing. "No, let it stand as 'little brother,' for I am honoured that you've been so ready, from the very first, to make me a member of your brotherhood."
"Aye, to be sure, I've thought of you as one of our own right from the start, from the start. As far as I'm concerned, you're one of our band. A waldscathe. And Gwyn, too." Gelanor raised his pot of ale in salute.
"Without benefit of ceremony, mind. And lacking naught but the wolf pelt," Katie said as she laughed and picked up the soiled bowls from the table.
"Which will be supplied in due course, in due course. And we'll not stand on ceremony, eh, little brother?" Gelanor winked and rose from the bench. "First things first, though. I'll go back to Ruah's Well, and, with all due respect, Master Kalaquinn, I'll make a shorter journey of it than you. Aye, to be sure, I could find my way there blindfolded if I needed to."
Gelanor took down a small wooden keg from where it hung by a leather strap from a beam in the pantry. He bounced the thing in a huge hand, studying it for a moment, then slung the cask to his back, looping its leather band over his shoulder, and started to the door. Gwyn had left the table and drifted to the bard's side as the bard pulled his boots on.
"What?" The huge chief of the forest straightened to face Gwyn, arms akimbo. "You want to tag along with me, eh? Is that it, little brother?" Gwyn bobbed his head once in agreement. His flame-red hair tousled, and a look of grim determination on his face, he planted his hands on his hips, matching the big man's attitude. Gelanor scratched at the tangle of red atop his own head and laughed. "Well, now, I'm not after telling you not to. Especially as you're a brother-in-arms, too. Aye, a brother-in-arms, a waldscathe like the rest of us. If it's all right with you, Master Kalaquinn? It's but a short jaunt. But long enough to work up a hunger. We'll be back in time for one of Mistress Katie's suppers. Something not to be missed."
"And that will be a second meal missed at your table," said Katie. "And sure, but you'll catch it from Ellyn on that."
"Bah! It should be safe enough. As will be the journey for the lad here—safe enough," continued Gelanor. "The men have scoured the woods clean of vermin."
"Right enough, Master Waldscathe. It's fine by me," Kal said. "If that's what he wants, and it seems it is, let him go along with you."
"Yes, by all means," Katie replied. "He'll be in good hands."
"But don't be fooled. Gwyn may be slight, but he's a man to be reckoned with. If there's danger to be met, I'd wager that there's not one of your band who's a better archer." Kal turned his gaze from Gelanor to Katie. "I'm puzzled though, Mistress Katie. Why did you not send Gelanor for the healing water when Gwyn and I first came to Mousehold?"
"Because he and his men were about their business elsewhere . . . ."
Kal waited for Katie to continue. An uncomfortable silence ensued.
"And? And what else?" he asked.
"And . . ." The woman looked into Kal's eyes again. "Master Kalaquinn, does your heart not tell you what was the true purpose of the journey you made to the Well?"
"To fetch the healing water for myself?"
Katie lowered her gaze to the floor. "You do not yet seem to understand, so I shall make it clear to you. And may you soon learn to listen with ears other than those on your head . . . ." Kati
e lifted her grey eyes to look at the young Hordanu. "I did not send Gelanor on that journey for the very reason that you were meant, as Hordanu, to visit Ruah's Well. You were meant, as Hordanu, to catch rare sight of the white hind. A foretoken of your mission. I did not know it at the time. Sometimes, a reason can only be known after the fact . . . if you have the eyes to see it." After a moment's pause, the woman smiled again at Kal. "But," she said, "it is enough. You shall learn this in time."
Kal fell silent. He remembered the fleeting visions he had experienced at the Well.
Katie rounded now on Gelanor, shooing him with her hands. "No need for you to gawk here. Get on with you! And you, Gwyn! Go on!"
The big man snatched his silver wolf's pelt from its peg and fled out the door, followed closely by the young Holdsman, who stepped lightly in his wake.
Still lost in thought, Kal yawned, then realized that he was alone with Katie. "I'm sorry . . ." He yawned again. "Forgive me. I don't mean to be rude. Don't know why, but I'm so tired."
"Here, come. You need rest." Katie took him by the hand to a cot supporting a feather-filled tick in a snug room set off from the kitchen. A small window was hung with thick fabric that blocked much of the light from outside. "Lie down. Rest here. When you have slept a bit, I'll show you something that few folk outside of the Black Cape have ever seen. A wonder, though one less terrible than waldscathes."
Kal hardly heard the woman's words. A great weariness had overwhelmed him. His limbs felt leaden. Katie finished speaking and left the room, pulling the door closed behind her. Kal lay back on the simple bed and almost immediately slipped beneath the heavy blanket of exhausted sleep woven by the trials and labours of the last couple of days. It seemed like an age since he had left the peace and safety of Nua Cearta. It seemed an age.
Sixteen
Kal started awake. Sweat stood cold on his forehead, and his damp shirt clung to his neck, shoulders, and back. He looked up. Katie hovered over him.
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