The Song of Andiene (27 page)

“That child is wiser than you or I,” Andiene said.

Kallan looked at her.
So you did nothing?
He wanted to ask that, but he said nothing. He covered Ilbran with his cloak and laughed long and happily.

***

They stayed at the safehold one more day, though the sun grew brighter, and the leaves more golden. Ilbran woke, and talked to them, little sentences with long silences between them, as though he had fallen asleep.

“I dreamed of dragons,” he said once. “Wide wings … and gray … and a look in his eyes … as though the world would die in winter.”

Andiene came and knelt beside him. His face was filled with wonder and recognition. “So you lived … lived and grew strong.” He closed his eyes for a long time. She waited by his side. “I almost betrayed you,” he said, as though it were some confession that needed to be given.

“Never mind, never mind,” Andiene said.

“Have you ever seen her weep?” Kallan asked Syresh, softly.

“No, and never will. I think this is as close as she will ever come to that.”

The next day, they traveled again. Ilbran protested when he saw the sled he was to lie on. “I can walk, if you find me a crutch.”

“Proof enough that you’re still feverish,” Kallan said. “I know you could cripple your way along, and find your way out of the forest in a five-score of days, but we cannot afford to let you slow us down. Learn to obey orders. By the ones who led us to this land, two days ago I was planning how best to dig your grave!”

Ilbran shuddered, and said no more. But he did not worsen from their day’s journey as he had done before. He was alert and restless that evening. He held Kare in his arms, and talked to her. When she went to sleep, he asked Kallan, “What happened to her after the battle?”

“She lay unconscious, the same as before, but she woke, and maybe saved you with her herbs.”

“I saw you like that once,” Ilbran said to Andiene, and his face showed doubt and fear. Then he stared past her to Lenane. “My lady, I know you.”

She looked at him perplexed. Then her eyes widened. “Year’s Beginning in Mareja! The lout who would not dance with me! Forgive me—that is how it seemed to me.”

“I tried to be gentle. I had things I must do, that night.”

“And it was well for you that you tried to be gentle! If you had pushed me away, I might have clawed out your eyes.” She softened her harsh words with a smile.

“I will dance with you at next Festival, if you still wish it. My name is Ilbran Hammelfil, Karefile. Hammel Rotefil, Mareefile.” He gave his genealogy for three generations back, and then paused. Lenane took up the weaving where he had left off. When she was through, he began again, moving further back in time.

Syresh looked at them and scowled, a sour look indeed. Kallan was amused to see it.
So that is the way things are? Well, you wear your caution-marks in your face already.

At last Lenane took up the thread once more. “Harl, Rulesfil, Sidenefile.”

“Harl of Rakkedland?” Ilbran asked.

“In the reign of Taulb Reji,” Lenane said triumphantly and leaned down to kiss him on the lips.

Kallan put a steadying hand on Syresh’s arm. “Calm yourself. They have only discovered that they are cousins.”

“Ten generations ago! How many drops of blood do they have in common?”

“Not many. Especially not since the grievers bled him. You must have never seen forestling meet forestling. His mother was of that kind and trained him in their ways. They will name off their ancestors for hours, and not rest content till they have found that they are kin.”

“So they learn their generations by heart, to make up for the laws of the land that they break?”

Kallan looked at him steadily, till the younger man looked away, abashed. “I lived among them when I was young, and I tell you that they break only the laws they must.”

Lenane and Ilbran laughed together like old friends reunited.

The next day, they were all stronger. For the first time, they did not have to carry Kare the whole day long. Syresh and Lenane walked more easily. Kallan made no mention of the summer’s heat, but it was a goad prodding all of them equally. Lenane still held to what she had said. They had three more days.

Another safehold welcomed them, and Kare gathered more herbs to put on her father’s wounds, gladly going back to gather more for Syresh and Lenane, when she was asked.

“It seems her mother taught her true as well as false,” Kallan said to Ilbran.

Her father nodded. “But look … ” He pointed through the entrance of the safehold, to where they could see her working close beside Andiene. “She follows her everywhere.”

“I know,” Kallan said lightly. “She has abandoned me and found a new love. More people in the world than she ever dreamed of, and she will want to know them all.”

“If that were it, I would be glad. But there is strong power in Andiene. You should know it, more than anyone.” Ilbran seemed anxious to talk, now that there was no one else to listen. “I am afraid that her magic, the scent of it, could draw Kare. I do not want her to be beguiled by it.”

Kallan looked out to the clearing, where the two of them picked blaggorn, holding out their tunics for baskets. He could not hear the words, but Kare laughed, and Andiene answered merrily. “I have never seen her—I have never seen either of them use power except when life was at stake. There is no harm in that. When you are stronger, you will worry less.”

“One more day, and I will walk, whether you give me leave or not,” Ilbran said. He thought for a while. “We needed golderlings to lick our wounds.” Seeing Kallan’s amazement, he told the story. “My back was healed as though it had never been torn, and the arrow wound, through my shoulder side to side, healed cleanly and gave me no pain.”

“I have never heard stories like that of the little golden ones, that they were gentle to mankind. You must tell them to our minstrel.”

Ilbran shook his head. “In some year to come, perhaps.”

“I have business of my own with our minstrel, then,” and Kallan walked across to where Lenane tended the fire.

“My lady, this is our last evening for a fire, I think.” She looked up at him and nodded, still mistrustful.

“Let me stir the kettle for a minute, while you see if you can find my signet ring. I lost it today. It fell from its string, and I did not pick it up at once. Though I do not wear it, I value it.”

Color rose up in her face. She walked swiftly away. Kallan did not turn to watch her delve into her pack, but stirred the kettle and whistled a tuneless melody.

Lenane returned quickly. “I found it.”

“Thank you.” He took the carved gold ring and reknotted it on the thong that hung around his neck. “Let me ask you something.” He caught her wrist and pulled her close to him. Her brown eyes were abashed, fearful, and defiant all at once. He was on his guard against her uncertain temper, but she did not try to use her claws. Across the room, Syresh watched them.

“What village were you born in?” he asked.

“Saverland, south of Oreja.”

“What did they teach you there? Do companions thieve from companions?”

“No.”

“Remember it well.” He released her wrist, and looked at her curiously. “Why did you leave your village?”

She spoke cautiously, trying to spy out any trap. “There was one who came. I followed him.”

“And he left you?”

“I left. After my child … ” Lenane’s eyes were shadowed with pain. She turned her back abruptly, and went back to her cooking.

The next day, they rose early and walked far, through avenues and archways of gold. Though the air was very still, a few yellow leaves floated down. They carried water in every bag and bottle that they had, and drank frequently. Kare ran at Andiene’s side, frolicking like a half-grown courser.

Syresh lagged behind, to speak to Kallan. “Do you know what her plans are?”

“She would not tell me. She does not trust me.”

The younger man’s face was eager and confident. “The land lies within her grasp. If she wants it, she can reach out and take it.”

“Are you ready to fight?”

“Ready? Ready and eager!”

“You alone, against Nahil’s armies?”

“Think of the songs that will be sung of such an undertaking. Our names would be written in the minstrel’s lore.”

“My name already is,” Kallan said, “but not for as good a reason. What of her magic? You have traveled with her. What have you seen of that?”

“She lived these last seven years in the land beyond the sea. Dragonsland, she called it, though she did not speak of what she saw there.” The younger man shivered, though the sun was golden hot on their back. “I have had strange dreams, such strange dreams.”

“Of dragons?”

“How did you guess?” Syresh asked.

“This whole company has, I think, though I would not dare to ask her what her dreams are. What were yours?”

“He was gray, lying on ridge-top like a crest of boulders. His bones were made of stone. He breathed out fire, and it changed to grievers, the cruel ones, running like wildfire in the summer, and this time you did not come to rescue us.”

“Think of it no more,” Kallan said. “Your wounds are but newly healed, and the memories still trouble your spirit. We were raised to face death by the sword, but these creatures of the forest are something different, that any man may fear without shame.”

But for all that he said, he was troubled, for the Gray One haunted his dreams also, as massive as the bones of the earth, with breath as fierce and sudden as lightning, and eyes as cold as a friendless death.

The sound of Andiene’s laughter drew his attention. Kare laughed in response to what she said. Truly, the child loved her well, and she in turn, was changing. Evening by evening, he could see the difference. Her laughter was easy and frequent. Little things provoked it.

It seemed to Kallan that though she had kept her queenly aura, she had more of the look of an earthly queen, one who would wed, and bear children, and die as all do. She seemed less dangerous.

Ilbran watched her almost constantly, a wary and doubtful look when she spoke to his daughter, a look of eagerness when she turned to him.

Syresh and Lenane walked together and sat close together that evening, doing their customary bickering in undertones. The night creatures sang outside, but all of them had grown accustomed to that song. It did not trouble their slumber.

They woke on the morning of the eighth day. Ilbran was on his feet and walking at last, heavily, and using a fallen branch for a cane. The leaves fell thick as rain. The wind blew from the east, and dust and death filled the air, choking them.

They passed one safehold and went on. Kare had tired and had to be carried, and a wound on Ilbran’s leg had opened and was bleeding, but Lenane urged them on, and Kallan did also. “When the trees stand bare, then no ways are safe,” he said.

It was late in the afternoon when they rounded a bend in the path, and waded knee-deep through drifts of russet and golden leaves to pass out into the open plains.

Chapter 19

Lenane and Syresh joined hands and laughed out loud like children, to see the wide blue sky, the horizon again. The others were quieter. “Remember,” Kallan said, “the forest shielded us from the full weight of the summer heat. We must rest by day now, and travel by night.”

The next days proved him right, as the heat grew like flames leaping up through dry kindling. They marched by night, and tried to rest and sleep by day, but there was no rest to be found, nor even any shade. The wind choked them with dust, and the smoke of a far-off burning clouded the horizon.

They lay in the grass and covered their heads with their cloaks. They wet their hair down with their precious water. The stream that they followed grew more shallow and scummy every day, and though the nights were a joyous relief from the day, yet they grew hotter. The little group of travelers walked stumbling along the path, their way lighted by the remnants of the stars.

Kallan carried the child and brought up the rear, where he could watch how his companions were faring. Andiene and Ilbran leaned on each other for support, and spoke little. Syresh and Lenane, walking together, leading the group, still had energy to provoke each other. Their long-running squabble over who should glean blaggorn for their morning meal had gone on long and endlessly by the time that Syresh said, “A job fit for you. Cannot thieves see in the dark?”

Kallan held his breath, but Lenane showed no sign of resorting to her claws to avenge the insult. He laughed to himself then. A pity that their strength could not be given to some who needed it more!

They traveled like that for three nights. The stars had become mere broken wisps of light, making their traveling hard and slow. They stumbled frequently. Weary feet can trip over a smooth road.

At the end of the third day, Andiene turned to Ilbran. “You have traveled this road. How far are we from the city?”

“Not far. This night’s travel, or two nights, might bring us to the gates.”

“What kind of a man is the king of this land?”

Ilbran hesitated, glanced at Kallan, who said, “You can answer as well as I.”

“I saw him only at a distance. We gave him little thought, but he seemed thin and cunning and greedy. We did not stay long in the land.”

“Why?”

“I had grown to have pleasure in traveling, and no place seemed good enough to stay. And Kallan seemed in no hurry to choose his hearth and home, either.”

“Except in the forest village,” the other man said.

Ilbran laughed. “You will have to go back and see what came of that, in six or sixteen years.” He glanced at Andiene, and color rose in his face. “The forest people are … generous and gentle with travelers. We spent part of the spring in a village, and I unlearned my fear of them, but it is no place to live one’s life. Then we came south, and saw Oreja city, and took the forest roads to where we met you.”

She nodded. They prepared their evening meal, tediously gleaned and even more tediously ground blaggorn stirred into cold water. Not even to cook a traveler’s supper may fire be raised in summer, for fear that it would draw down answering fire from the air.