The Nature of a Curse (Volume 2 of the Year of the Red Door)

by William Timothy Murray

  Robby and his group were gathered closely around the table, paying close attention. But after discussing several possibilities, it was apparent that the brothers did not have confidence in any of the routes they studied. Ashlord frowned, and Ullin crossed his arms in thought. Robby, who was growing sleepy, was also becoming impatient.

  "Look," he said at last, "we mean to go west. We must first go to Tallin Hall. Why should we not go straight to the Damar City?"

  Everyone looked at Robby in astonishment.

  "That is the chief city of the Damar, where the warlord Cartu rules from," said Ullin.

  "But they do not expect us, and they should not suspect our business," Robby said. "Surely many travelers go there on business. This road here," Robby traced a line on the chart, "runs west into this road here. From there to Damar City, but look, here, just before it turns toward the city, there is a fork that goes around, passing south of their city. And then it turns back to the northwest."

  "Ye'll need writs of passage to travel them roads," said Markum. "All are examined carefully by their posts and patrols."

  "Well, how does one obtain one?"

  "They're letters," Makeig said, moving over to a drawer and rummaging through it as he spoke, "marked with the current seal of the Damar Watch, an' signed by at least four—ah, here we go!"

  He handed Robby a parchment. It was written in the common speech but with many symbols at the top, with several signatures in different places, and there was a large embossed seal was pressed into the document in green ink.

  "That one's pretty old, 'bout four years, I'd say," Makeig said, leaning against a bookcase. "I lifted it off a passerby what got caught up in the middle of one of our skirmishes. Don't know how he came by it. Warn't much in the talkin' way by the time I found him, if ye take me meanin'."

  "If ye mean to go to Tallinvale," said Markum, "why not take a letter of transit from Lord Tallin?"

  "What?"

  "He does business with them Damar, I do believe," Gargeoff said.

  "What kind of business?" Robby asked, his face reddened somewhat.

  "Don't know," said Makeig. "There's a feller from Tallinvale what goes back an' forth to Damar City. But we figure we're better off lettin' Lord Tallin's people pass on through. We don't care to get on the wrong side of Tallinfolk."

  "Why spare them of any others?" Ullin asked pointedly.

  "Well, because," Makeig shrugged, "in the first place they ain't never done us no harm. An' in the second place, I ain't heard of nobody crossin' Lord Tallin an' havin' long to brag on it. Ye seen that feller what brought up the summons. He's in with them western Faerefolk, as ye of all should know. Them Elifaen are a stern lot with arrows an' steel, an' I ain't never seen one of 'em that warn't the match of any five of us. Why, one time, back when I was capt'n of the Golden Swallow (that was the name of me ship), I seen a single ship-load of 'em come into Spargers Bay, right up in the midst of a ragin' battle. They took to the docks, fought their way up the hill to the villa of the Prince Lewtrah, took his family entire, fought their way back through town to the ship, the whole city burnin' to the ground around 'em. An' then they made off with their rescue, neat as a pin, not a lost man amongst 'em nor a hair touched on Prince Lewtrah, nor his wife. Them was a Glareth lot of Elifaen, an' I hear them Tallinfolk take more after those ways than the ways of Men, which they mostly are."

  All remained silent, and Makeig and the Blaney brothers felt uneasy at their statements.

  "I was forgettin' meself, Master Ribbon, no offense was meant," Makeig said at last as Robby handed the pass back to him. "If any was taken, I sincerely regret it to ye an' yer cousin, here."

  "No offense taken, on my part," said Robby.

  "Nor on mine," added Ullin.

  "But you present a mystery to me," Robby went on. "What doings my grandfather has with the Damar warlord would be an interesting one to unravel, if the chance presented itself."

  "Well, be that as it may," Makeig replied. "I still think the best thing for ye would be to come back here to town, an' then go west. Movin' up through Damar country's bound to stir trouble. An' I gather ye don't want attention, neither. If them Damar was to get wind of where it is yer bound for, they ain't likely to let it go. I don't imagine they want the eye of Duinnor cast this way."

  "Whether we pass this way or not can only be decided after we learn what there is to learn at Tallinvale," said Ashlord. "But the hour is late, and we are all tired."

  "Course ye are! We got plenty of bunks right here. Room for all!" Makeig said.

  They thanked the Blaney brothers who, like themselves, needed sleep, and soon the company was shown to washrooms and a barracks room with a dozen cots lining two walls. Sheila chose a cot near the far side of the room, while Ibin flung himself down on the nearest one, creaking and groaning under his great weight. The others settled quietly, and Makeig said his good-nights. Ashlord sat down on a cot near the door and propped himself up against the wall to light his pipe. Robby, the last in bed, blew out the candle and settled down next to Sheila. For a while, he watched Ashlord's face glow at each puff of the pipe, the strange man's black eyes glittering from the dark shadow of his face. Soon Robby's own eyes were closed, and he wondered no longer about Ashlord's habits.

  Chapter 4

  Ullin's Tale and Robby's Dream

  Day 86

  159 Days Remaining

  They rose very early, and after a good breakfast at the tavern they set off with Makeig riding along as far as the east gate of the town. There he stopped and wished them well, bidding them to come back through Hill Town if at all possible, and promising his aid to those in Janhaven. Soon after, they were winding their way into the sunrise and between the hills, making south and east by a narrow path through the forest. They spoke little and rode as fast as they could, taking no breaks for water or to rest the horses. The day turned bright, but the still air never lost its midmorning cool and, on this second day since leaving Janhaven, they were for the first time truly on their own. Ullin led the way, with Ashlord behind him and then Ibin and the pack animals, followed by Billy and Sheila, with Robby at the rear. He wondered about those they had left behind in Janhaven and how they would fare, and he hoped that his father, wherever he was, was safe. And he pondered what he had gotten his friends into, thinking about the dangers ahead, and the warnings given by the Blaney brothers. After most of the morning riding in silence, and at a place where the path widened for a stretch, Sheila dropped back alongside of him.

  "How are you?" she asked.

  "Good. And you?"

  "Well enough," she answered.

  "Do you truly think that you fooled anyone back there?" Robby asked. "About being my bodyguard."

  "All they had to do was to try me," Sheila retorted with a smirk. "I'm thinking it's better not to be too much in the trusting way."

  "I don't guess you've had the best experiences with men," Robby nodded.

  "It's not that," she replied. "I do not judge all men by the cut of a few. You and the rest of our friends are who I hold to be the real examples of men."

  "Oh? Then why all the pretending at Hill Town if you are not afraid?"

  "I did not say I wasn't afraid. I fear men and women alike. I pretend because any weakness perceived in us is a strike against you."

  "Hm. Well, I don't see how pretending to be what you are not would show strength. And you are as strong and able as any of us here."

  "Maybe so in some ways," she said. "But men and women think differently, as you well know. Among men, many things are left alone or just accepted, things that would provoke comment, or at least attention, when found in a woman. Well do I know, my whole life being the testament, that to gain a man's respect as an equal is a hard thing for a woman to do, and, once had, it is ever in the earning, it seems to me."

  "You are probably right," Robby said. He and Sheila had often talked about such things, and they knew their opinions were closely akin. "I dare not gainsay you on that. But i
t seems to me that it is sometimes better to be underestimated by the proud and haughty, than to make a show on their terms."

  "Sour the vinegar or sweet the pie," Sheila nodded, "as the apple falleth into the pot. Or so Frizella would say. It just depends on the situation, that's all. And anyway, I think that Drayworth fellow nearly made me. No telling what he might have done!"

  "Yes, quite the rake. I saw him talking to you at the table while I was at the bar with Sally."

  At the mention of Robby's acquaintance, Sheila fell silent and looked ahead at the others with a blank face.

  "I hope we will not become like Sally and her people," Sheila said. "Making some home away from our homeland. Or like the Elifaen of Vanara who are cheated from theirs."

  Robby nodded, and Sheila fell back behind him as the path narrowed. Their way was one of steady descent, and when they came onto a roadway, Ullin led them to the right. At last they were able to ride alongside each other with greater ease, and soon Billy and Ibin were engaged in a rather one-sided chat, as were so many of their conversations, with Billy holding forth on the merits and drawbacks of riding as opposed to those of walking.

  "An' it seems to me, ol' boy," he was saying, "whilst horses may indeed be faster overall than walkin', a man can ever trust his legs to carry him whar he aims 'em, if ever thar be strength in 'em. Howsoever, a horse's apt to canter off this way an' that, an' even spring to full gallopin' all of a lark, like, bouncin' the hapless rider wharever he may be borne."

  Ibin nodded, fascinated.

  "Now as for me, I hold with usin' horses, mules, donkeys, asses, an' even oxen to bear a burden far an' wide so long as the road be sure an' familiar-like. It's these here unknown ways what's liable to get a man thrown." Here Billy waved his arm around in a knowing way with a look of serious caution on his face. "An' if it warn't for such a long way to go, an' much to carry, we'd be better off, surely, at the pace of our own legs."

  "You wouldn't think so if we met up with bandits, Redvests, Dragon People, mad elves, capering lions, or cold water up to your chest," said Ashlord, barely turning his head around toward Billy.

  "Yeah, Billy, whatif, whatif, whatifwehadtorunfromalion,Billy? Whatif, whatifwecameontosome, ontosomemadelves?"

  "Well, in them cases, a horse may be just the thing, I do admit," Billy conceded. "But, they ain't no mad elves for miles, I'll warrant, an' they ain't probably been no lions in these parts ever."

  "Ihopenot, Billy, Isure, Isure, Isurehopenot. I'm, I'm, I'mscaredoflions. I'mscaredofbears,too,andsnakesandwolvesandhornets. Igotstungbyahornetonce. Ithurt!"

  "I got stung by a wolf, once," Robby said softly aside to Sheila. "It hurt, too!"

  "AndBilly, Billy, Billy, listen, BillylistenI'mscared, I'mscaredofgalafronks,too. Ihategalafronks!"

  "What? You hate what?" Sheila asked.

  Robby and Billy both rolled their eyes.

  "Galafronks," Robby told her.

  "Galafronks? What on earth are those?"

  He and Billy knew well enough all about Ibin's fear of galafronks, but before either could explain, Ibin twisted around in his saddle to call back to Sheila.

  "Galafronks, galafronks!

  Big as a house, small as a mouse,

  Brown and black and gray.

  Squeezing between the door-cracks

  Up between the floor-cracks

  As thin and flat as smoke are they!

  With iron-strong arms,

  And saucer-plate eyes

  They mumble their charms

  Through teeth like scythes

  To get you they come, rum duma-dums!

  Stomping their trollfeet like thunder, like drums.

  Galafronks, galafronks, shadows and dust!

  Galafronks, galafronks, gristle and rust!

  Rude little girls they love to boil

  With beetles and spiders and bugs.

  And bad little boys they like to broil

  With maggots and leeches and slugs!"

  Billy and Robby added their voices to the last four lines and the two of them laughed heartily while Ibin looked blankly from one to the other. Sheila smiled, shaking her head at them. At last, when their mirth had subsided, Ibin turned straight in his saddle and looked sternly ahead, his bottom lip jutting out.

  "It's not funny," he stated.

  The roadway widened and steadied downward out of the foothills with only a few sharp turns, and the more they went along, the more Robby wondered if this was the same road his father used years earlier to cart grain to the Tallin place.

  "This is the north road from our lands," Ullin said, as if reading Robby's thoughts. "It joins by forks and turns behind us eventually to the Great South Road that leads to Passdale, a ride of three days along that route. These roads have never seen much coming or going, but Tallinvale maintains them, nonetheless. These columns we come upon mark the beginning of Tallinvale lands."

  Robby looked at the round columns as they passed, set on either side of the road almost like gateposts. They had no writing carved into them, but each was capped with a verdigris cone of aged copper and at the point of each cone sat a small unlit brazier. Now that the way was easier, their pace naturally quickened, and they covered many miles through the forest without break until noontime had long passed and mid-afternoon was yielding to cooler air. The forest thinned, and after a few climbing turns of the road, fields appeared, newly shorn of crops, the cornstalks neatly stacked and tied into standing bundles, and only a few distant fieldworkers were seen. Rounding a bend, they suddenly found themselves entering a small village of neatly rowed cottages and workshops.

  "This place is called Bluepine. There is a tavern up ahead, if you care to stop," Ullin told Ashlord. "Nothing fancy, but the ale used to be passing fair, and the horses could use some water."

  "Yes," Ashlord nodded. "If it were not for the horses I would have us push on. But rider and ridden both need refreshment, I think. And my backside could use a stretch."

  There was a fair amount of curiosity on the faces of the people they passed, not unfriendly, but rightly cautious of six armed horsemen. Deference was paid to Ullin, sometimes with bows and touching of heads as he passed, and Robby realized this behavior was directed not at Ullin himself, but at his uniform and bearing. Indeed, as Robby watched from just behind him, Ullin seemed a lordly figure compared to his companions. Such a man—dressed in cloth cut for a Kingsmen of Duinnor, and in company with such a striking figure as Ashlord at his side—certainly must be a rare appearance, Robby thought. He thought, too, that he had taken much for granted, and though they were only Ullin and Ashlord to him, kinsman and friend, he saw now an aspect of nobility about them that he had never really noticed before.

  Ullin turned them aside at the far end of the village, past a staring blacksmith, hammer raised in mid-stroke, and a woman who was quickly herding several young children out of the yard and into the doorway of a cottage, closing it hard behind them. The tavern would have been unrecognizable as such if it had not been for a hitching rail and water trough and a sign swinging over the door that professed it to be the Blue Tree. Otherwise, it was like most any other cottage, except it had wooden shingles instead of fernleaf thatch. No sooner than they dismounted and were hitching their horses than a middle-aged man, round and bald, came running across the road past them and on through the door of the tavern without so much as a nod. As Ullin approached the door, it swung open again and there the man stood, a bit out of breath, struggling to don an apron.

  "Greetings! Greetings, noble travelers!" he said proudly as he ushered them inside. His face was red with enthusiasm, and, as he spoke, he kicked chairs into place and swept clouds of dust from tables with a rag, trying to manage straightening, cleaning, greeting, bowing, and talking all at the same time.

  "Welcome to the Blue Tree! Finest ale an' coolest beer this side of Tallinvale. Forgive that chair, I'll move it. Yes, we're open, open are we. Watch that tub thar, I got it. Yes, just the thing for weary travelers, for not a
penny more than worth!"

  It was a modest establishment, obviously not expecting them, or anyone else, and the proprietor and the six travelers quickly filled the small space.

  "Marly!" the man called loudly out through an open back door, and a small child immediately appeared beside him.

  "Yes, Papa?"

  "Food or drink for ye gentlemen? Marly! Just have a seat anywhars."

  "Yes, Papa?"

  "Make yerself comfortable. Marly! No don't sit thar, sir. Bad leg that chair has, been meanin' to fix it. Marly!"

  "Yes, Papa!" the child at last got hold of the apron and tugged hard.

  "Marly, whar've ye been, girl? Run over to Mrs. Chulwinkie's an' fetch ye mother. Tell her we've got company an' to get the stove fire goin'."

  "Yes, Papa!"

  "Wait! We only want a drink before moving on," Ullin tried to say.

  "Nonsense! Ye look famished, if ye pardon me sayin', good sir. Run along, Marly."

  "No, no. Just beer," Robby confirmed.

  "No food," Ullin stated. "We must move on as soon as the horses have had a rest."

  "Nofood?" asked Ibin.

  "No food?" repeated the proprietor. "Well, surely, ye ain't come all the way from Duinnor just for a beer? Though many's the one who've traveled just to put a pint of me own brew in him! Good enough for any Kingsman, too. Made of the finest Barley barley, an' me brother's own hops, it is, as always has been! Kept cool in the spring house out back right up 'til the sippin'. No taps in here, no siree. So! What'll it be? We got brown ale, golden ale, an' a good stout."

  "None of that," Ullin said. "We'll all have a pint of your spring house beer."

  "Ah, I see yer no stranger, after all. Or ye've heard far an' wide, I suppose, of me beer."

  "I've told of it far and wide," Ullin grinned. "But in fact, I am a personal friend to your beer and have been since I was no higher than the back of that chair."

  "Ye don't say!"

  "I do. And many's the time ye've thrown me out, along with my friends."

  By now the man was squinting hard into Ullin's face, and even took out a pair of spectacles to have a closer look. Suddenly an expression of shock overcame him, and he went red-faced as he gasped.