"Thar ye go!" said one man.
"Hear, hear!" cried another, raising his cup of coffee in salute.
"Barley steel!"
"Aye!"
The men nodded and smiled, and Robby was impressed by how much encouragement they seemed to have taken from his words. But one man kept eyeing him without reacting at all, silent as he had been during the whole of breakfast. The others finished eating and hurried out to their duties, bidding Robby a good day as they went, but this man was the last to rise from the table. He was a big swarthy man with short-cropped hair and a matching beard of graying-blond. He stood, finished his coffee, then came around the table to stand next to Robby.
"Ye talk a brave talk, lad," he said without smiling. Robby realized that he knew the man, one of Furaman's wagoneers that often came to Passdale on deliveries.
"Only, is it good to give folk hope where there is little?" the man went on.
Robby did not answer at first, but slowly stood to face him.
"I'll not say there is always much hope," Robby said. "But it is better to have what hope there is, I've been told, and let a candle serve when there is no sun."
The man nodded as a careworn smile crossed his face. He took a step toward the door, then hesitated.
"My sister an' her husband lived in Barley," he said. "They have a little place down river-way, on the south Bosk line. They have two little girls, one's four years old. The other's not yet two."
Robby knew the place and realized that if Boskland had fallen so quickly, this man's relatives were probably captives, or worse.
"Went after 'em soon as word came," the man went on. It was terrible to see the man's face quake with all the restraint he could muster, and Robby's throat suddenly went dry. "Found me little nieces, down in the storm cellar hidin' 'mongst broken barrels an' the like. Took 'em up, one under each of me arms an' ran as fast as I could. On past where they mother lay. On past where they father lay. Holdin' the little one's faces close so they couldn't see."
The man went to the door and opened it, put his hat on, then turned and faced Robby.
"I mean to go back to Barley," he said, and never had Robby heard any simple phrase uttered with such black and certain threat. The man turned away and stood in the doorway a moment longer, looking out at the light of morning, then stepped away. Durlorn shut the door on the cool air and brushed past Robby, picking up plates and cups.
"If he ain't careful," he said to Robby, "he'll get himself done in like was his sister an' her husband. Mr. Furaman's gonna have a time keepin' a hand on the men now that war is on us."
"I guess so," Robby nodded. "Thank you for the breakfast, Mr. Durlorn. I wonder if I might trouble you to show me a place where I can get some sleep. Somewhere out of the way, I mean."
Durlorn straightened up from the washing tub where he had dumped the plates and wiped his hands on his apron.
"Well," he said, "thar's bound to be a good bit of business 'round here, today. Hm-m. I reckon the best place I can think of is Mr. Furaman's upstairs back room. Right this way, Mr. Ribbon. Thar's a cot, an' it's on the back side of the buildin', away from comin's an' goin's. Mr. Furaman catches a nap thar sometimes, but I doubt if it'll be used at all today."
"Just for a few hours," Robby said as he followed Durlorn up some side stairs and down a hall to the back of the building. Durlorn pushed open a door and showed Robby a small room with a desk, some chairs, shelves with account books, and the normal things that one might expect in a clerk's office. And in one corner was the cot, covered with quilts. Durlorn went to a small window and pushed back the shutters to let light in.
"I'll light a far in the little stove, thar," Durlorn said. "An' bring in a wash basin for ye."
"Oh that's not needed. Please don't trouble. I only want to get a bit of sleep."
"No trouble. Ye go ahead an' lay yerself down. Don't mind any stirrin' ye may hear. It'll only be me an' the men."
Robby sat down on the cot and took his boots off, then unbuckled his belt and removed his coat and tunic. Straightening out Swyncraff, he leaned it against the wall beside the cot and sank down into the straw mattress, fiddling with his shirt buttons. That is as far as he got before he closed his eyes. He vaguely heard Durlorn come back and the squeak of the stove door, but after that he heard nothing for a long, peaceful while.
• • •
While Robby slept, the people of Barley and Passdale continued their efforts, much aided by the Janhaven folk, finding accommodations and sizing up their situation. More people had trickled in overnight and into the morning, with some being happily reunited with friends and family. There were impromptu meetings among the people, striving to discover what they were to do. Furaman and others of Janhaven tried to reassure them that they would not be abandoned to fend for themselves, or left to the mercy of the elements, but this was of little solace to people so suddenly uprooted from their lands and shops and homes. Ashlord and Ullin spoke, too, telling them what they knew of the Redvests, and that the enemy would more than likely be gone by spring, perhaps even before. There was the inevitable talk of striking back at the Redvests, and at a large gathering just outside the stockade, many of the displaced people debated, with tempers and passions rising quickly.
"There are at least two or three thousand trained soldiers to face, perhaps many more," Ashlord shouted. The crowd turned toward the commanding voice. "They are armed, they are organized, and by all accounts they are well led," Ashlord went on. "They would be a match for any similar, well-trained and seasoned army, and to go openly against them with less would be folly!"
"What would ye have us do?" shouted back a particularly agitated man of Barley. "Give up our homes without a fight!"
"We ain't done no such thing!" came a shout from Billy who suddenly appeared at the back of the crowd, pushing his way through and climbing onto a wagon so that all could see him. "Good men whar lost in the fightin' at Barley an' Boskland, more in Passdale an' on the road. Would ye dishonor thar blood by uselessly pourin' out more?"
Sheila, coming up from behind the wagon, could hardly believe that it was Billy who addressed them so adamantly.
"This is what I say to all me kinsmen an' all else who'll listen," Billy said. "Look first to survive the winter. Make warm camps for the children, our elderly, an' our sick an' wounded. Take care of what ye still got!"
"Then what? Sit on our arses 'til them Redvests come trampsin' up the road to take us? What'll we do then, eh?"
"We shall fight!" called someone from the other side of the crowd. The crowd parted, and Sheila saw Mirabella, her sword hilt over her shoulder, striding to the wagon where Billy stood. Any who had not seen her take on the Redvests on the road had by now heard of her valor. All were in awe of the fighting skill she had displayed. There was even a rumor going about the camps that Mirabella was a Faerekind warrioress of old, and every imaginable tale was being circulated about how she came to live in Passdale all these years as a lowly storekeeper's wife.
"Fight, I say! But not as the enemy may expect. If you are anxious to fight, then join with me! Let us first make our place here secure. Then, if you will follow my command, I will show you how to make the Redvest fear us! We will reform the militias, and we will not wait for the Redvests to come to us. But here is where our first fight is, here in Janhaven. We must fight sickness and cold. We must fight hunger and disease. If we cannot win against these things, we cannot win against the Redvests!"
Ashlord leaned against his walking stick with an expression of satisfaction. Ullin shook his head with a chuckle.
"I think my aunt will fall upon the old ways of our people if she is not careful," Ullin said.
"And not a moment too soon, if you ask me," Ashlord replied.
Frizella then appeared, adding with her strident voice the ways in which people could help each other and demanding that each send a representative of their family to meet with her and Mirabella at the stockade this very afternoon.
"We get o
urselves good an' organized-like," she said. "An' ain't nobody gonna go hungry nor freeze. We all got worries 'bout missin' an' hurt kinfolk an' friends, but we gotta get on with managin' our situation. So, let's do what we must to keep ourselves fit for what's ahead. This day at mid-afternoon! Let everyone know! We'll make articles of law, if needed, bindin' our fates, just like in Barley when we took our oaths. Now, get on with yer chores! Go on! Time's wastin'!"
Effectively breaking up the crowd, Frizella turned to Mirabella.
"Just what on earth d'ye have in mind, missy?" she asked her slyly. "If I didn't know better, I'd say ye've got a bit of soldierin' on ye mind."
Sheila eased over to Ashlord and caught his arm.
"Do you know where Robby is?"
"I last saw him this morning," Ashlord said. "I think Mr. Durlorn, at the stockade, might know where he is."
Ullin approached, and as she turned to go, he spoke to her.
"Sheila," he asked, "do you mean to go with us?"
"Yes."
"It may not be safe for you. That is, less so even than for the rest of us."
"Because I am not a man?"
"There are many rogues, and worse, along the roads we may take," Ashlord put in. "We may not be able to avoid them."
"I am strong," Sheila said, defensively. "And no more can be done to me than what has already been."
Ashlord looked at her and nodded.
"I am also concerned for Robby's sake," he said. "If he had to choose his own safety or yours—"
"Robby would choose anyone's safety over his own, as I think you know," Sheila retorted before Ashlord could finish. "Can you foresee it would be me in the choice and not some other of his friends?"
"No-o, no," Ashlord said. "If you are determined in this, then your bow and your wit will be welcome, and put to good use. Only of that am I certain."
"Then I will come," Sheila said, turning away and walking off, leaving Ashlord and Ullin looking after her.
"I have misgivings about her coming along," said Ullin. "But no more than I have about Billy and Ibin."
Ashlord nodded. "I am concerned, too. But those three have as much at stake as anyone, and they may be a comfort to Robby later on. I doubt if much good would be served by leaving any one of them behind. But if we do not depart soon, others may wish to join us, too."
"You may be right," he said. "Then let us make all our arrangements as soon as we can. Tonight? In the place where we met before?"
"Yes."
• • •
Sheila walked on, perturbed by the brief conversation. Although she readily admitted that Ashlord and Ullin had sincere concerns for her safety, she wondered at the implication about Robby and possibly the others.
"Do they actually think they'll have to protect me?" she muttered to herself. "As if I haven't been the one protecting them! Where do they think those arrows came from? And where were they looking during all the fighting? Was I invisible? Did they not see me there? Did I not fight as hard and as valiantly as any man? Do they say the same about Mirabella?"
Then she caught herself, and quelled her old temper. Her months with Ashlord, gentle and always sincere, came back to her. His teachings. "You must calm yourself," he had told her on more than one occasion, "and think of what is as it is, not as what you take it for."
So she came full circle, realizing that Ashlord and Ullin worried about much. That she was included in that worry somehow soothed her. Suddenly she felt the weight of their concern and realized for the first time what difficulties must lay ahead. She had stopped walking, and found herself standing in front of a little shop, one of several on a small alley along the edge of Janhaven. Through the dusty window of this shop, past her own grimy reflection, two women were cutting pieces of linen cloth from bolts and fitting the bits together on a table in preparation of a garment. She walked on a few steps, then suddenly turned back and entered.
• • •
"Soon, you must be on your way. Forces are gathering to oppose you and there is much you must accomplish."
Robby stood on top of the dune facing the Dragonkind woman. He could see only her eyes, gold and cat-like, gazing at him from under her shemagh-wrapped face. Her eyes were soft, but the way they narrowed at him told of her forehead, creased with concern. The air blew hard, tugging at her robes, revealing her feminine shape, in spite of her copper-hued light armor, while the low sun bathed the desert in orange hues. She pulled her robes back to her, but not before Robby saw the sword hilt at her side. Though the sand was hot, the gust of wind was cool, as if telling of the coming night.
"Who are you?"
"That is not important. You will know me soon enough."
"Am I dreaming?"
"Yes, after a manner," she said. "But this is the only way I may speak with you."
"You are one of the Dragon People."
"Yes."
"Do all your kind have this power?"
"Yes. And no. That is to say, all creatures have this power. They need only to find it. You are beginning to find it yourself."
He was frightened of her, yet strangely assured that she would do him no harm.
"Do many travel abroad in this manner?"
"No. Very few discover this gift. Fewer still survive its discovery, for it is seductive and may entice an unnatural desire to remain asleep. Many have starved to death, lost in dreams. Many more have died in their tombs or upon the pyre made for them by those lacking wit to see they were merely asleep and had not yet died. Very few of us walk the dream place. I have only ever met with two others, my Kundorlu—my teacher, who instructed me—and another student of his."
"Why should I trust you?"
"There is no need of trust. I do what I must for my people just as you do for yours."
"Our people are at war with one another," Robby insisted. "Why should I heed one of the enemy?"
"Our people are at war, but you and I are not," she said. "And the war at hand is but a skirmish compared to what may come. I fear for my people as you fear for yours. We have much in common, actually. You seek to displace a powerful but unwise ruler of your lands. I strive for the freedom of my people from even harsher tyranny. I think our interests may make us allies."
"You are afraid of me."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"For the same reason you should fear me. Betrayal. If I let it be known who and where you are, word would spread beyond my lands, and you would not live much longer. There are many who would wish to stop you from your quest. However, among those who would wish to stop you may be those who would wish to discover me. The things that we seek are bound up in each other. So it is that I cannot betray you unless I also betray that for which I strive."
"And I cannot betray you, either," Robby said. "For one, you are only a dream. And, for another, I do not know who you are or who it might be that I could betray you to."
"That is why I come to you in this way, directly, rather than through some messenger that may be untrustworthy."
"I have had dreams before, some that recurred."
"You mistrust your senses. That is understandable. I ask nothing of you. That time may come. If you do not wish to meet me in this way, or in any way, you have it within your power to wake from this dream. You only need to will it so."
Robby thought about this. He felt her presence fade and the sensation of a blanket over him, and he felt oddly horizontal.
"You sense what I say is true."
Robby redirected his attention back to her and saw her become solid and clear again, and the sensations of the bed where he slept faded away.
"I think you have the better of me," he said. "For you obviously know the ways of this dream-realm, and I do not. You must know I am full of doubts about all this and whether you be real or some spirit, or worse, come to misguide me."
"Perhaps," she said. "But I will give you a sign so that you may know I am no mere dream."
She lifted her hand and held it out, palm up. In
it was a ring of black, banded by interwoven strands of gold, and set with a stone the color of dark wine. Just as Robby beheld it, a black form swooped down from the air, snatching it from her hand. Robby, alarmed, stepped back, and watched the large bird flap away swiftly into the sky. But the woman was unperturbed.
"When you go westward, insist that you go first to a place your people call Tulith Morgair. It is an abandoned keep near Bletharn Plain. There, look to the hand of your great grandfather. I leave there a sign for you. A token of my reality and my earnestness."
"My great grandfather?"
"Yes. I must go, now. You will not see me again until you have found the sign I speak of. Remember, look to your great grandfather. Until then, may care guide your steps!"
She turned to walk away into a cloud of fading scenery, then paused. Turning back to him, she said, "I will tell you my name. It is Micerea."
Chapter 2
Mirabella's Tale
Day 84
161 Days Remaining
Robby woke with a start and was even more startled to see a boyish figure squatting on the floor across the room, back against the wall, head down, with brown shoulder-length hair. Hearing Robby stir, the figure looked up.
"Sheila?"
"Hello, sleepyhead."
"Your hair!"
"Yes, it's nearly all gone."
"It looks awful!" Robby blurted out. "I mean, oh, your hair! It was so long and beautiful! Why did you cut it?"
"Actually, a seamstress cut it for me."
"Why?"
"It was too much to worry with, what with everything else to take care of," she said. "It'll be easier to keep clean this way. And I don't think any of us can count on many niceties for a while."
Robby continued to stare at her until his face lost its sadness and went blank.
The Nature of a Curse (Volume 2 of the Year of the Red Door) Page 4
