“Remarkable indeed,” Rin said, dancing forward and back to see it vanish and reappear. “All things do have their rune.”
Lakanta swung off her pony and came over to look at it between the legs of the horses.
“I see it now,” the peddler said with a satisfied nod. “I can see why your carter missed it. I might not have paid attention. It might look brighter to you, with your witch-sight.”
“It’s weaker than it was before,” Tildi commented, tipping her head to study the rune critically.
“This is a much stronger evoking than was brought out by your fragment,” Edynn said. “Draw back your hand.”
Tildi obeyed, and the rune faded back to its normal bark color. Lakanta shook her head.
“It’s gone, at least to me.”
“To me as well,” Rin said.
Edynn nodded. “Once the influence of the book has gone, the runes change back very quickly, just as the chairs and the other things in Silvertree did. With the Great Book it might take minutes or hours, instead of seconds, depending upon an object’s sensitivity to power.”
“The candle stayed blasted apart,” Lakanta pointed out.
“Well, it had been physically altered,” Edynn reminded her. “If I changed this tree’s rune while Tildi held it unlocked for me, it would remain changed when we withdrew.”
“This is going to make it hard to follow the thief’s trail,” Rin said. “If these are a month and more gone.”
“Not if trees and animals retain a sensitivity to the Great Book,” Edynn said, sensibly.
“Is that possible?”
Edynn said, “Let us see if it provides us with a distinct enough trail to follow.” She smiled at Tildi. “Come along this way, child. We will see if we can awaken more traces with your help.”
Rin shook her great mane. “It is going to be very slow, and we have no time to lose.”
“Better slow and sure than to miss him altogether. Let us experiment.”
With Edynn’s encouragement, Rin trotted to the head of the party, alongside Captain Teryn. North of the old man tree were berry bushes. They, too, glowed into life when the leaf neared them. Their runes had changed, but so had the bushes, now covered in nearly ripe fruit.
Tildi kept her eye open for landmarks she recalled, and held out the leaf to them. If the faint runes awoke, they continued in that direction. Once in a while they disappeared entirely. Tildi glanced back now and again to meet Edynn’s eyes. The elder wizardess smiled at her encouragingly, and urged her to continue.
Rin kept to the left side of the road. She and Tildi sampled the landmarks on the right side from time to time, but the stronger evocations were clearly to be had on the west edge.
“I believe your thief must have traveled at night,” the centaur announced to the others. “I beg your pardon,” she added, to an annoyed carter who had to swerve to avoid her. “Otherwise he would be walking in the faces of many travelers.”
“If he stayed upon the road,” Lakanta said. “The woods are thin here, and anyone could ride or walk just inside the tree line, if he chose. I’d want to stay out of sight, if I had just stolen the key to unlocking all of nature. I’ve gone that way now and again myself, when the company on the road looked a bit too rough for my comfort.”
“We will see,” Rin said. “Hold tight, Tildi.”
Keeping the copy leaf in one hand, the smallfolk girl grabbed Rin’s mane just as the centaur gathered her haunches and leaped over the berm that bordered the road. Tildi ducked to avoid a faceful of twigs.
“By heaven!” the centaur exclaimed.
Tildi sat up. Just off the main thoroughfare, she could see numerous small tracks winding in and out of the trees. Most of them had been made by animals, but a few bore thin wheel-ruts and hoof marks, the evidence, as Lakanta suggested, of those who wished their passage to go unnoticed. In fact, it would be possible for a few lightly laden travelers to travel in parallel, though over much rougher ground than the wellkept road behind them. It seemed to have been the choice of their unknown quarry, for as soon as they penetrated the screen of trees, runes burst into golden light.
“What is it?” Edynn asked, bounding up behind them. The others followed swiftly. “My goodness! Well thought-out, Lakanta. Yes, what a
result! No wonder your kindly escort did not pay heed, Tildi. This is a trail, and more! I would like to see what it looks like when one is close to the book.”
“It’s still not half as bright,” Tildi said.
Serafina let out an exclamation. “But don’t you see what that means? If what you saw was more distinct than this, it means you had to have been right behind the book thief. If you were following prominent, bright runes all the way to Overhill, he could not have been far ahead of you.”
Tildi’s heart leaped into her throat.
“He … I … he could have killed me then.”
“But he didn’t,” Edynn said, dismissing the speculation. “He didn’t see you. And we do not know the radius of the Great Book’s power. He could have been a good ways from you, just as he got ahead of Indrescala, who saw the cows, but not their desecrator.”
“She might also have been right on top of him,” Lakanta said. “I know the road she traveled. It’s one of two on the west side of the Arown. The good road is on the east bank. The west road, up on that cliff, leads only from Tillerton. And from the Quarters, I beg your pardon,” she said, bobbing her head at Tildi. “The other is a tow path down along the Arown itself, almost right on the riverbank, which I suspect is what the thief took. She is luckier than she knows. You would never have seen each other.”
Tildi let out a sigh of relief. It had been enough of an adventure for her to have traveled on her own, for the first time. To think that she was within arm’s reach of a powerful and merciless magician made her tremble in retrospect. “I’m glad,” she said.
“Come, then,” Edynn said. “Since we have all had a lucky escape, let us continue. Rin is right: we have no time to lose in catching up with our thief.”
Now even Serafina was convinced that they were following the correct trail. Ignoring protests from Captain Teryn, Rin took the lead.
Astride her back, Tildi held out the rolled-up page like a wand, careful not to let it brush Rin’s shoulder. The centaur ran onward, taking the coarse forest path as smoothly as if they were sailing on a pond. They whipped past sweet-smelling leaves and brushed aside hanging feathers of moss. Tildi could hear the others threshing along behind her. Now and again she caught a glimpse through the trees of the slower moving travelers on the main road, which drew near, then veered away again. Rin changed direction toward the brightest traces. If she missed one,
Tildi pointed it out to her, but she seldom went wrong. She was as good a tracker as she had claimed.
According to the failproof compass that Olen had given Tildi, they were moving nearly due north, but edging ever so slightly to the east. She tried to picture the map of Niombra in her mind, and could not guess toward which of the many countries and provinces he, or she, as Serafina had said, might be going. She hoped they could find their quarry soon, but she had no idea how they—two wizards, two soldiers, a centaur, a smallfolk, and a peddler—would be able to stop a powerful mage and take back the Great Book.
If what Edynn had suggested was true, then she had been close to the thief almost all the way to Overhill. Could she have seen him? She tried to imagine all the odd folk, both human and otherwise, that she had encountered along her way. The only one who struck her as truly odd was Irithe, but Olen had shown no interest in her. Why could the thief not have been an elf? She must mention it to Edynn when they stopped.
Rin was moving so swiftly that Tildi’s whole world shrank to what she could see before her, a narrow tunnel of sight between the centaur’s shoulder and neck, and the deep green of the forest crown. Rin kept her arms up so that branches and twigs didn’t strike either of them, but the hiss of brushing by them and the thud of Rin’s hooves on the earth were all the sounds she could hear. The glowing sigils flashed past them in a blur. The muscles in Tildi’s arm holding out the leaf started to twitch, then burn. She propped her elbow upon her thigh, then gave up and tucked the parchment roll into the breast of her tunic, with enough of it sticking out to awaken the runes. She buried her hands in Rin’s mane, glad to have something to hang on to. She didn’t have time to think or be afraid. All she could do was watch the runes and make sure they stayed on track.
The shadows falling around them from the sun at their backs traveled from far to the left to some distance to the right before Edynn’s faint voice cried for a halt.
Rin slowed to a trot, then a walk.
The trees around them were thinning out. Just ahead Tildi could see bright sunlight. Rin passed between two noble beech trees and stepped out into a clearing, where the trail they had been following split up into three shallow rabbit tracks that all went off in different directions over the meadow. The air smelled fresh and inviting. Tildi wiggled her shoulders, enjoying being able to stretch for the first time in hours. Teryn
caught up with them almost at once, followed by Serafina. Edynn and the other two were too far away to be seen. Tildi listened to the crunching of their horses’ hooves until they, too, emerged into the meadow. Half a mile to their right was the main road. Carters directing their plodding horses along the way glanced up at the sight of the seven travelers, but their curiosity faded quickly, and they were soon out of sight.
“L
et us stop here, Captain,” Edynn called. Teryn nodded. She scanned the area, then guided them to a flat, grassy sward in a hollow surrounded by tall grasses and wildflowers. Tildi looked down at them with delight. The flowers looked like the wild irises that grew in the Quarters, but they were almost the size of her head. “I don’t know how far we are from the nearest inn, so I propose that we have a meal now. I apologize. I did not realize how long it is past midday.”
“No harm done!” Lakanta said cheerfully. “I believe that it’s a good three hours or more to the next inn along the road, if we were on the road. If I recall, it’s the Stirrup Cup, a decent place, with good beer and good baths. We can surely make it before they lock the doors for the night if we keep up the pace we have.” She swung down from her short horse and loosened the beast’s girth. It immediately moved off to pull
up mouthfuls of grass. “My bottom’s rubbed raw, and I am sure Melune hasn’t had a run like that since she was a filly!”
Rin reached behind her with one long, flexible arm, and scooped Tildi off her back.
“Time to get down,” she said cheerfully. “I wish desperately to scratch my back!”
With that, the elegant chieftainess of the Windmanes collapsed onto her side and rolled over. Her human half lay upon the grass while her striped horse half writhed, all four legs in the air. Tildi laughed at the look of bliss on her face. Rin let out a breath of pure pleasure.
“Ah, that’s wonderful! I haven’t scented sweetgrass like this since I left home. Do you know sweetgrass, smallfolk?”
“We only get it dried,” Tildi said, plucking a few short blades and holding them to her nose. “It is a popular herb used to stuff pillows to prevent bad dreams. I’ve never smelled it fresh before.”
“Isn’t it delicious?”
“Do you eat grass?” Lakanta asked curiously, sitting down beside Rin.
“Only if I am very hungry,” the centaur replied, rolling over and rising to all four knees. “I prefer grains, but we can eat anything. What shall we be having?”
“I can help cook,” Tildi said at once. If her ability to track the book was wanting, she would at least be able to hold her own with domestic duties. She sprang up to help, but her legs were so wobbly they gave way under her. Sitting down hard reminded her her bottom was numb from hours of jouncing. “I always cooked for my brothers.”
The grim-faced captain shook her head.
“Morag will do mess duty.”
The stooped guard was already unloading a cooking kit from the pack animal. Tildi tottered over.
She looked up into the face under the straggly hair, and was surprised to see that Morag was a man. He had clear, light, hazel-brown eyes, but the eyes were the only feature that seemed normal. For a moment Tildi wondered if he was from another race that had been created by the Shining Ones. His mouth was wide and flat, with snaggled, crooked teeth that held out his lower lip just far enough that he could not avoid drooling just a little. His nose was weirdly pinched, and seemed skewed off to one side. His cheekbones stood out prominently and pointed outward, almost obscuring his ears, which were crushed handfuls of flesh. Morag’s ruddy skin darkened further, and Tildi realized she had been staring.
“I am sorry,” she said. “May I help you cook?”
He shook his head, and the lank hair danced. “No,” he mumbled. “Don’ need.” He clutched the iron cooking pot in huge, bony hands as if using it as a shield to protect himself from her.
“Whatever you say, but please ask if you want an assistant.” The soldier dropped his eyes, refusing to meet hers. Tildi hurried back to the others.
Morag’s twisted face revulsed her, but something in his eyes brought out the deepest pity. She knew of children born with twisted features. They often did not live long. Sometimes their minds were addled. Morag must be intelligent, or he would not be in Halcot’s castle guard. She watched him out of the corner of her eye.
Captain Teryn licked a finger to find a spot downwind of the party and gathered dry wood from the forest. With an ax from the packhorse’s bags, she chopped them efficiently and made a good-sized cooking fire. Morag cut up a large piece of meat from another packet, and arranged them to fry in the pot. He cut up onions and potatoes, set them to cooking with herbs he shook out of square bottles. Tildi watched him, always eager to learn a new recipe or two. The scent that rose from the pot, though, was not encouraging. Had he really put chili pepper and tarragon in at the same time?
Teryn came to them with a skin of wine and an armful of pewter mugs, including one of a size suitable for Tildi. When the captain had finished serving them, Tildi took the opportunity to beckon her over. She spoke in a low tone so it could not be overheard by the other guard.
“Captain, Morag seems very different than other humans I have met?” She made the question as polite a statement as she could. Teryn’s thin lips tightened.
“He’s a good man,” she said tersely.
“I am sure of that,” Tildi said in haste. Teryn set her jaw and stared out over the field, her clear blue eyes narrowing.
“He was normal before the war. You know of that?” She didn’t wait for Tildi to answer. “Close to the end, a terrifying spell overtook some of us trying to cross into Orontae. They were twisted like broken dolls. Such a thing had never happened before. We thought their wizard incapable of attack spells. All of the others who were afflicted died. Sometimes, it might have been kinder—” she stopped herself, and scowled at Tildi. “He is a good man, and loyal. You need not fear him. Or pity him,” she added fiercely. “His Highness holds him in esteem, or he would not serve in Meriote Castle itself.”
“Oh, I am sure he is more than worthy,” Tildi said. “Thank you. I apologize.”
“She was in love with him,” Lakanta said, as soon as Teryn was out of earshot.
“What?” Tildi asked, startled out of her thoughts.
The little blond woman made a half-rueful face at her. “She was in love with him. You can see it all over her face. And he might have loved her, too, who knows? How sad that he was crippled like that.”
“That’s a guess, peddler,” Serafina snapped. “Do you have any reason to believe it’s true, not that it is any of your business?”
“I don’t know it,” Lakanta said cheerfully. “Do you care to scry it for me? I revel in love stories.”
The young wizardess took the suggestion as an insult, to judge by the look on her face. She turned her back on them, and faced her mother, who was sorting through a bag from her saddlepack. The blond trader winked at Tildi.
“Don’t say anything,” Lakanta whispered to her, then raised her voice to a normal level. “Well, Tildi, tell me about your home.”
“It’s an ordinary place,” Tildi said. “The only excitement we have is when a peddler like yourself comes to town. Otherwise, we just live our lives.”
“Sounds dull. But dull can be a relief. Regular meals, you know. Warm, dry bed, knowing where your shoes will be when you wake up in the morning.”
Tildi laughed, but with regret. She had thrown away all of those things, not once, but twice. The first had been a decision made out of anger, grief, and panic, but the second was deliberate and thoughtful, or at least so she hoped. “What about you? What’s it like to travel from place to place with a load of goods?”
“Oh, there’s a touch of the dull about the life, too,” Lakanta admitted, but her eyes twinkled. “But I get my fun out of it. You know, I never want to miss the chance to see new lands. You meet people, sometimes
very individual
people. Why, let me tell you about the last time I visited Tillerton … .”
Tildi liked her. She was glad that someone like her had been permitted to join the party. Serafina was haughty, like Doctor Jurney’s daughter. Edynn seemed far above Tildi’s station. Though she was kind, Tildi never dared think of having a natter like this with her. The two guards kept to themselves. Rin, now, Rin was an enigma. Tildi liked her, too,
but she thought so differently than two-legged people, and she was nobility, as well. Lakanta was approachable, capable, and unflappable. She’d have made Lakanta a friend if they had been neighbors in Clear-beck.
The meal, when it finally came, was overcooked as well as peculiarly spiced. Tildi chewed gamely at her portion of tough meat and under-cooked vegetables, wondering if Morag’s creation was bad or just a recipe from a cuisine that she had never tasted. Out of the corner of her eye she glanced at the others’ faces. To judge by their expressions, her first reaction had been the correct one. Lakanta, too, was munching energetically, trying not to make a face. Edynn cut her food into small bites and was eating them with a long fork while she read a sheaf of documents that she had taken from her saddlebag. Rin tasted the meat, let out a loud snort, and was chewing the vegetables with no evidence of enjoyment. Serafina was not even pretending to eat. She pushed away the blackened offering and sipped moodily at her wine. Teryn did not meet anyone’s eyes. She and Morag finished their meals with despatch, then went about tamping out the fire and cleaning up the site.
Thankfully, no one found it necessary to criticize Morag’s lack of skill aloud. He was undoubtedly doing the very best that he could, but Tildi felt there was no need for them to eat bad food all the way along their journey, not with her own skills available. She resolved that she would find a way to get Morag to let her help, at the very least to pull food off the fire before it burned.
Once base hunger was assuaged, she pushed the scraps around her small plate, looking forward to staying at an inn that evening. She had had good luck so far with food at travelers’ rests.
“Who is Teldo?” Edynn’s voice brought Tildi’s head up with a jerk.
“T-T-Teldo?” Tildi stammered out. Her heart pounded.
“Yes,” Edynn said, holding up a scroll. “Olen gave me the articles of apprenticeship when he passed responsibility for your education along to me. I read smallfolk language very well, and I cannot help but notice that the name on the correspondence is Teldo, not Tildi. Is that what you are called at home?”
Tildi felt all the blood drain from her body. What could she say? She knew in her heart that she must not lie to Edynn, but not only were they many days’ ride from the Quarters, they were now many miles from Olen’s home, even if she might be compelled go back once she had told the truth.
“No,” she said at last. “It’s not. Teldo was my brother.”
“Was he? Why did you use his name to write to Olen?”
“I didn’t.” The terrible truth bubbled up from deep inside Tildi, as though it had been waiting months for her to let it free. “He did. He wanted to be a wizard from the time he was a child. He taught me the magic that I knew, but he was the real scholar in our family.”
“I see. He was one of the family members killed by the thraik?” Edynn’s tone was not accusing, but Tildi felt as though she had been caught stealing, which, if she thought about it, she might indeed be. She hung her head.
“Yes,” she admitted.
“How did you come to bring his letter to Olen, then? Why did you not stay in the Quarters? You had a home there? Friends?”
“Do you know of our culture as well as our language?” Tildi asked, phrasing her words carefully. “The attack happened very suddenly. I have little value among my people. I couldn’t inherit my family’s property. The elders were planning to marry me off to a …”—there were no polite words suitable to describe the odious Bardol—“ … someone not of my choosing, and were giving me no option to refuse. I had only a short time to make a decision. I hope you and Olen will forgive me,” she said, hanging her head. “I felt I had no choice but to leave, and Teldo’s letter … he was never going to need it. I did want to study magic, but I thought that Teldo would teach me when he came home again. Once my brothers were dead that was no longer possible. I disguised myself as a boy, and left that very night.”
She told the story as succinctly as she could. The others listened with solemn interest and not a little sympathy, but when she described her stay at the inn in Rushet, Lakanta burst into hoots of laughter.
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” the little woman exclaimed, clapping her hands on her knees. “That’s the funniest thing I’d ever heard in my life! Oh, they’re a kindly group at the Groaning Table, they are. I’ll have to tease Danyn about it next time I go through.”
Serafina gave her a quelling look. “Her family had died violently, and you laugh at her?”
“If anyone had told me such a story, I’d laugh,” Lakanta said. “I don’t deny the terrible things she’s been through. In fact, I think she’s brave as a lion for picking herself up and setting out like that. Still, trying to drink her weight in beer and flirting with the barmaid? It’s like something in a comic song!”
Now that Tildi started to think about it, she could see how ridiculous she must have looked. She smiled timidly at Lakanta, who beamed back.
Edynn nodded. “I, too, can understand why you borrowed Teldo’s identity to get you safely to Overhill. Why not admit this to Olen? You showed the aptitude he requires, and a willing heart. He praises you highly. In fact, there were many times over the last days he considered refusing to let you go. You could have been accepted on your own terms.”