Hill Town
Day 85
160 Days Remaining
They headed west, into the crisp air of autumn, bearing along the road for a few miles until they turned south and followed Makeig along a narrow track that wound up and down, but mostly up. By noon, they had traveled nearly twenty miles, and before them stood the Thunder Mountains, dark and thick-shouldered. They pressed upward into the cooler air of the heights as the afternoon wore on, going deeper and deeper into the rugged forest, through shady oaks, maples, and gum that were showing their first weariness of green, and through mighty pines and thick firs that never tired of their sage and loden coats. Makeig led them across many streams and underneath waterfalls, the rough terrain sometimes forcing them to dismount and led their horses along narrow passes or up steep inclines. Sometimes the path opened onto a ridge or hill that was sparse of trees wherefrom the expanse of the mountain range revealed itself stretching south, west, and north as far as the eye could see, with many of the nearest mountains looming high over their heads. It was mid-afternoon before they made their first stop, in a grove of oaks that surrounded a small waterfall. Makeig told them to water themselves and their horses for a few minutes.
"We're 'bout halfway to Hill Town," he told them. "Though this way we go is the shortest, it ain't without risk. There's a warlord what thinks this bit of forest belongs to him, an' ever' now an' then sends some of his ruffians along to remind folks of his claim. They ain't usually much to worry over, unless they number a dozen or more. Right poor fighters. Anyways, from this place up an' 'til the next ridge over yonder, we move fast. This stretch is easy, thank goodness, but that's why they like this pass so much, I reckon. I don't 'spect any trouble, but keep ye wits close by, if ye take me meanin'. From here on, let me do all the talkin' if there's anyone met along the way. Most likely it'll be some of me own people, but ye never know."
After a short pause, they continued on, the air now decidedly cooler and gusting over the hills, shaking loose the brownest leaves from the branches. They descended into a wide steep-sided ravine so thick with trees that they could not see any hint of the surrounding mountains. Saying little, they crossed back and forth over several small streams, negotiating shoals and pools and banks. Other trails led away to the right or left, but Makeig kept them to their own path, twisting and turning until at last they were moving upward again against the other side of the vale.
"By now, me watchmen have spotted us," Makeig said to Ashlord. "Though we won't see 'em at all. They'll have signaled our approach, an' a party'll be dispatched to make sure of us. We'll meet 'em in a couple hours."
"Do they expect us?"
"No, no. It's the ordinary way of things with us, very organized ye might say," Makeig explained. "We may not hold the pass, but we keep sharp eyes on it, day an' night. This is one of four approaches to Hill Town, an' the least used since our business seldom takes us this way. No good for wagons, as ye see, an' too close to them warlords for reg'lar supplies. Anyhow, me people don't 'spect to see me 'til on the morrow, an' though they'll recognize me hat an' coat, they'll set about markin' who's wearin' 'em. An' I guess seein' several horsemen what with pack animals, too, strangers all, they'll be double careful. But don't ye worry none! We well mark friend from foe afore lettin' fly with arrows!"
"I'm glad to hear that," muttered Ullin before Billy could say the same.
It was a steep climb, and they led the horses by the reins for the better part of the ascent. They reached the top and took a breather, looking at the vast wilderness of forest and mountains behind and before them. The sun was already slipping nearer the highest of the far mountains to the southwest, and long shadows were reaching across the view. Robby thought the scene one of bitter beauty, and a terrible loneliness surprised him as he gazed northeast where he imagined his home was.
"Gar!" said Billy coming up next to him. "I'd never find me way back out of this!"
Robby nodded in agreement. "Let's hope we don't have to."
"How far have we come from Janhaven?" Sheila asked Makeig.
"Oh, I reckon we're 'bout ten or twelve leagues, as the arrow flies. 'Bout twice that as the road winds, I reckon," he answered as he mounted his horse, "an' another five to go. But the next several should be a bit easier."
Indeed, the way was not so steep up or down, and they rode at their best speed, being careful of the footing of their animals. Following a broad ridgeline, they continued upward, and the character of the forest changed so that many of the trees, gnarled scarlet oaks, yellow birch, and red maple, were shedding their autumn colors, with leaves of red and yellow scattering in the gusts.
"Doyouever, doyouever, doyoueverseeanytrolls?" Ibin asked. He had somehow worked his way to the front of the group just behind Makeig. Though he longed to hear the answer, Robby took the reins of the pack animals from him and fell back to take Ibin's place at the end of the line.
"No, never, not in all the years I've been here," Makeig said. "Some of me people swear they've seen 'em, way back, long afore I came along. These mountains are filled with troll houses, though, an' caves, an' all manner of leavin's. Look right up yonder, for instance."
He pointed at another ridge a few miles away, toward a line that angled across the face of the distant slopes.
"What is that?" asked Ullin.
"Why it's an old troll road," answered Makeig. "I've been over there. It's devil hard to get at. The funny thing, it just starts up, out of nowheres, like, an' after maybe a mile stretch, it just stops. Yet, it be paved with flat stones with not a crack between, smooth as ye please, an' all along it are old stone houses an' caves. I even peeked into a couple. Not much to find, 'cept some pots an' pans too big to carry, an' stone chairs an' benches an' like furnishin'. We'll pass along a piece of road like that up near Hill Town, too."
"What happened to them? To the trolls?" asked Sheila.
"Well, there's few what know, if any. But there's a feller what lives among us at Hill Town, one of them prospector-types that's older than even he knows. Well, he's got a notion or two that he don't mind jabberin' 'bout. Says they were all called away, sudden-like, on a moonless night laid with winter snow. Says they marched off southward, settin' off such a mighty thunder by their tramp that the ground shook all the way to Barley, an' made folks remember why these mountains are named as they are. An' they never came back. So says Warley Rinspoon, the ol' geezer I got the tale from. I'm sure he'd be more than happy to relate it to ye, if ye have a day or two. Kind of a slow, roundabout talker, in a way."
"I hope we won't be lingering quite so long," Ashlord said. "We need to be on our way as soon as we can. I'm counting on some advice to get past the warlords, too, or we'll have an even longer trip of it."
"Well, as I told ye back at Janhaven," Makeig shrugged, "if we can round up them Blaney brothers, what know them western parts best of any, ye'll be well supplied with directions. If it were up to me, though, I'd move way south afore crossin' through. That Damar lord, Lord Cartu, they calls him, he runs a mighty mean outfit, an' it's his territory, so he claims, just west an' south. Wants to run things all the way up to the west road near Janhaven, if he can put down the Galinots up that way. Anyhow, if any knows a way, the Blaneys can figure it out for ye."
"How many people live at Hill Town?" Robby asked.
"We reckoned one thousand nine hunnerd fifty-three, last spring," Makeig stated. "Of them, 'bout a quarter are children with less than ten years. Most of them born at Hill Town. Many more families live out an' around the town. The last time we had a real fight on our hands, 'bout three years ago—that was with some Damar—we raised nearly six hundred fighters."
"Do you have much trouble with the Damar?" asked Ullin.
"Naw, not too much any more. They send out raidin' parties, mostly after cattle an' women, just testin' us, I think. Anyways, though we ain't very many, we control the territory all 'round, an' ain't none got away alive in six years. Ever' now an' then, them Galinots from up north foray through the pass, an' we let 'em go on through, so long as they ain't too many. We treat the Damar just the same. Our rule of thumb is if there's less than two-score men an' horses, we let 'em through. Any more than that, an' we take 'em on their way back. They've learned to move in small parties an' sometimes they try an' meet up with each other. Only we keep good count an' that don't pay for 'em any more. We got lots of rules 'bout them warlord men. Another one is that we don't parley. Sometimes they send somebody up to badger us to trade with 'em, standin' on a hilltop or down in the pass callin' at us. But we never show our faces unless we mean that to be the last thing they see. That way, they can't ever reckon our strength."
"Somewhat brutal, isn't it?" Ashlord asked.
Makeig gave him a sidelong glance and snorted.
"Not as bloody unkind as what I found when I first got here!" he said. "Bloody Galinots an' Damar all over the place, rapin', lootin', killin'. I didn't lose seventy fine seamen runnin' out of Tracia only to get the others killed when we got here. So I kinda took over, like. War's war, I say. Whether it's against a highfalutin tyrant, or a lowdown bully. Pretty soon them Damar an' Galinots figured this part of the mountains was cursed an' haunted, an' we encouraged 'em. In the early days, we always spared one or two as prisoners an' staged it so as they saw or heard the wildest, vilest, most terriblest, an' spookiest things. All a big put-on. Afterwards, we let 'em escape, like, takin' the tales back. I think it worked purty well. Too well, in fact, since it got us a bad name with other folk what could've been friendly with us, traders an' such, an' folk in nearby towns an' so forth. Aye, we overdid it maybe, even if them tales we spread have helped to keep the warlords off our backs."
They traveled on along the path, moving gently up and down the ridge, which eventually flattened onto a broad rolling forest, thick with ancient trunks. Makeig's pace slowed perceptibly, and though he led them on comfortably and with no word of care, Robby sensed that he was watchful. They heard running water, and soon after they were following alongside a tumbling stream, spraying over rocks and mossy boulders, and jumping around nooks and gurgling crannies. Ahead was an arched stone bridge, and as they approached it, two men stepped out from the trees, blocking the path with notched arrows at the ready. A third man stepped between those two, holding up his hand as a signal for them to halt.
"Say the word, or stand an' deliver!" the man shouted.
"Swordplay's the word!" cried Makeig back at him.
"Right, then. So what business have ye on this road?" the challenger demanded.
"Mad Martin's business, that's what!" bellowed Makeig.
"Doff ye hat, then, an' come ahead slowly on foot."
"Best do as they say," said Makeig, dismounting. "I told ye they'd make sure of me."
The three men, dressed in similar tan and green leggings and tunics, with patchwork cloaks of likewise tan and green, stood motionless while Robby and his company dismounted and continued their approach. At last Makeig took off his hat with a grand swoop, and the men relaxed. Their leader turned to the other side of the bridge briefly and made a hand sign that produced thirty other men, all dressed and armed alike, emerging from the trees all around them and from the far side of the bridge.
"Capt'n," said the leader of the band, "we didn't expect ye back so soon, an' suspected foul play with yer clothes."
"Just so, an' right in bein' cautious, too."
"An' yer companions?"
"Trusted men of Barley, the ones I sent word about, on their way westward," Makeig replied as he gave his plumes a few strokes and crammed his hat back onto his head.
"Might one of 'em be Robby Ribbon?"
Makeig was surprised at the question, but no more than the rest.
"I am Robby Ribbon," Robby said, stepping forward.
"Well, there's a messenger for ye, just arrived at Hill Town," the man said. "He waits there as we wouldn't let him pass on. He says he's come from yer grandfather's house."
"My grandfather's house?" Robby asked, glancing at Ullin who shrugged and shook his head.
Turning to Makeig, the man went on, "He arrived just when our scouts brought news of yer approach through the pass. Not knowin' what was afoot, I thought it best he stay there. He would not say his business, but I suspect it ain't much to do with us."
"Why do ye say that?" Makeig asked.
The man looked around at the newcomers and then said softly to his captain, "He is an elfkind. Wears the livery of one of the ancient houses that is no more. Nornus, the old woman who does medicine an' knows the lore of the past, says so."
"Aye, she's one to know," Makeig said, scratching his chin and glancing over at Robby. "What say ye to this, Mr. Ribbon?"
"It is unexpected," Robby replied, shrugging and shaking his head. "I can't imagine what he might want."
"Maybe, he's onto us," Billy whispered to Ashlord, who glanced sharply at him to hold his tongue.
"I hope ye treated the feller well," Makeig said. "I don't want no trouble with Tallin or any of his people."
"He ain't one of Tallin's folk. He only came from there. He gave no trouble, Capt'n, an' we put him up at my place to wait."
"Well, then," Makeig said, mounting his horse, "let's get on. It'll be past dark as it is, an' we don't want to keep Mr. Ribbon from his meetin' any longer than need be."
The man whistled and horses were brought out. He and several others took the lead as the rest of the Hill Town soldiers faded away into the forest. Robby noted the ease with which they moved and how suddenly he lost sight of them.
"I think these people can help our own, if ever they may join together," Robby said to Billy.
"Aye. Did ye see how they moved nearly without a sound?"
"What do you think of the news?" Ullin asked, coming up on the other side. "About the messenger waiting for you?"
"I don't know what to make of it," Robby said. "He is your grandfather, too. What do you think?"
"He has always been a secretive one," Ullin said. "And I hardly know him, though I grew up under his roof. He probably doesn't even know I am anywhere near. I haven't seen him in years."
"Do you miss him?" Robby impulsively asked and immediately regretted.
Ullin thought for a moment, then said, "He is a hard one, and is hard to miss, I must say. He keeps too much bitterness within him, having lost his wife and two sons. He is never anxious to see me, but he has always treated me fairly, even if he is cool and distant. I do miss him, though, for in my grandfather's face I see the likeness of my father."
"What became of our grandmother?"
"Ah, well, that is a sorry tale that no one fully knows," Ullin said. "I was told by my mother that her name has not been spoken in that house since she died of a broken heart."
"Can someone actually die of a broken heart?" Robby asked.
"Surely," Sheila said under her breath.
"Surely," Ullin said to Robby. "Her father and mother had no sons to send to Duinnor to serve the King, and had to pay heavy tribute instead. The Fairoak lands were later laid waste by war, and when our grandfather met Lady Kahryna of Fairoak, that House was all but ruined and bankrupt. The two married, but things went badly for Tallin lands in Vanara, too, as a result of the wars with the Dragonkind. So Fairoak and Tallin signed the last of their Vanaran lands over to the King, and my grandfather brought his family back to the Eastlands, to Tallinvale. So bitter was our grandfather that he cut all ties to Vanara and Duinnor alike, and he swore he would have no more to do with the troubles of the west. But my uncle, his eldest son, Dalvenpar, was soon of age and was called to serve the King of Duinnor, as had our grandfather, as Kingsman. He went willingly, though our grandfather was against his going, and Dalvenpar served with distinction for many years. But then news came that he was slain. Such was our grandmother's misery, I was told, that all of the spring blooms on all the lands of our estate withered and fell away at her mourning. A shade, they say, covered the night so that no stars could be seen, and the summer air of our lands was cold and foggy while all those lands around enjoyed the light and warmth that is expected of the season. Anyway, that was the tale.
"Then a messenger came with summons for my father to take his brother's place in the service of the King. One year and one day, he was given, before he was to report to Duinnor. I was very small, but I remember, all during that year, my father prepared himself gladly, and my mother supported him as cheerfully as she could. Lord Tallin, our grandfather, opposed his going, too, just as he had opposed his first born son's service. Lord Tallin was wealthy enough to pay the heavy fines, and he demanded that my father stay in Tallinvale and refuse the call of duty. But my father wanted not only the honor of service, but also vengeance for his brother's death. Our grandmother, though, succumbed to her grief and went mad, tearing at her clothes and mourning for my father as if he was dead. Grandfather locked her away in the east tower of the hall and set a watch to keep her from harming herself, and to provide for her needs. She became a kind of prisoner and was allowed to see no one else, save grandfather, alone, who went to her each day and each night to see to her needs and to comfort her. Months passed and the day came for my father to depart. My grandfather took my father and me to see her, and she received us calmly and kindly, kissing my father many times, weeping all the while. She hugged me and told me to be strong for my father. It was all very quiet and very sad. As I said, I was very young, but I remember."
Ullin paused as they negotiated under low tree limbs.
"My father departed later that morning," he went on. "Then, on the next day, Mirabella disappeared, leaving a note that she, too, sought service as her brothers. Years later, I learned that she followed my father, remaining hidden from him and at a distance. She eluded the parties sent by Lord Tallin to bring her back, and she made it all the way to Duinnor, and took up training there, privately learning all she could about warcraft while her brother attended the King's Academy. Later, she somehow managed to join the Kingsmen armies going south, where she and my father fought side by side. She was with him when he died. It was she, Mirabella, who brought news of his death back to Tallinvale. Grandmother's hair, the color of polished copper, turned white at the news. She uttered a few words to our grandfather so that he turned pale even as his cheeks reddened with shame. I don't know what she said, but she never spoke again to anyone, as far as I know. She took to her bed, and our grandfather stayed at her bedside as she slept. She never again opened her eyes. By nightfall her spirit had left her body.
"For the next three weeks, our grandfather kept to himself, and I later heard that during that time it was feared that he had gone mad, for the servants reported that he raved, going from laughter to crying in an instant. It was said also that he would sometimes act as if he was in another place, speaking with people who were not there, or dressing in full battle gear, swinging his sword at imaginary enemies. But, at last, he emerged from his mourning, or his madness, and took up his duties as Lord of Tallinvale once again, and with an even greater zeal than ever before."
Although Ullin told his tale matter-of-factly, his companions felt its heaviness. For Robby, who had only the day before heard a version of the tale from his mother, it explained part of the reluctance of his parents to talk about his mother's side of the family.
"A sad tale," commented Makeig.
"And what of your mother?" Robby asked. "Does she still live in Tallinvale?"
"No. My father's death broke her heart, too. She remained in Tallin Hall for a time, then departed to rejoin her kin in Glareth. I went with her, but I came back later. I stayed at Tallinvale until I left for Duinnor to become a Kingsman."
"Do you ever get to see your mother?"
"Yes. I saw her just a few months ago, when I was in Glareth on the business of Queen Serith Ellyn. She is very frail. But we were very happy to see each other."
Ullin's tale left the group in a somber mood, and they went for a long while afterwards without saying anything. They made their way easily, led onward by Makeig's men who, Robby noticed, sometimes gave signals with their hands to unseen recipients. Makeig acted as if he barely noticed these gestures, but Robby realized that he was keenly aware of them, and he thought perhaps the Captain was pleased that their approach was being treated with such care.
"Captain Makeig, are your people always so cautious?" Robby asked him.
"Aye! Indeed we must be," Makeig stated. "With warlords all around, an' with rebel agents from Tracia comin' an' goin'. We know that if our harvest is too bountiful, or if we bring too much ore out from our mines, there's bound to be raids an' such. An' many of our folk're like me, wanted by the realm they fled from, though none of us are justly accused, I warrant. I meself have a bounty of one hundred pieces of gold on me, an' twenty-five on each of me crew what came with me. Treason, we're accused of. Treason! We who defended the rightful Rulin' Prince! So, aye, we're a careful lot!"
By this time Sir Sun had strolled below the western mountains, the sky above was a darkening blue with faint wisps of pink high and away, but the shadows were deep along the forest trail. Over a rise they came to a small gorge spanned by a long stone bridge barely wide enough for two men to walk abreast, yet Makeig and his man guided their horses straight onto it while Robby's mount hesitated and balked at the edge.
"Lead 'em over if ye have to," Makeig called back without turning. "It takes 'em a time or two to get used to it."
Robby dismounted and led his horse across. While the others followed Robby, Ullin told Ibin to wait.
"Billy and I will come back over and each take one of the packhorses," he explained.
It was a deep ravine with sharp rocks jutting up dimly far below, and though the bridge was solid enough, Robby felt a little off balance when a stiff wind suddenly picked up and blew crossways.
"There are many of these stone walk-bridges in the forest," Makeig explained as Robby finally stepped off the bridge and remounted to wait for the others. "Some fancier an' wider than this one, but many too crumbly to trust. Don't worry, this one's sturdy, an' a good place to set a watch." He nodded back up the rise, and Robby saw a small, squat hut of stone about fifty yards off on top of which were several men keeping an eye on them. "Wind seems always blowin' through here," Makeig observed to Ashlord coming up, "so we call this Windy Crossin'."
"A troll bridge?" Ashlord asked getting into his saddle.
"Aye, we believe so. More like a footbridge to a troll, I imagine. See here?" Makeig pointed down. "This here's another troll road, pickin' up on this side of the bridge. It'll go our way about two miles an' quit. See how neat the stones are laid? Hardly a crack between them."
Soon Ullin and Billy were across, along with Ibin, and after they retied the harnesses, the group set off again. By now there was a definite chill in the air, and even the character of the forest seemed changed. The trees were old and thick and sparse of leaves, and only a few pines were seen at all. The stone roadway was well used and ran like a pale stream through the carpet of fallen leaves. They passed by many a troll house, low stone structures overgrown with ivy and brush, and in the tangle beside each was a massive stone just the shape and size to fit into each doorway, laying as if cast lightly aside. Even the roofs were made of stone slabs, roughly cut and laid out across the walls. There were no windows, and it was apparent that the ruins, as gloomy as they were, had never been cheerful. Billy shuddered at the thought of going inside one, yet he was curious, and Ibin once turned his horse aside to explore one, but Billy stopped him.
"No time for peekin' 'round," he said.
"Ain't nuthin' there anyways," said Makeig. "Like I said, just a few pieces of junk too heavy to lift."
The paved road ended, and the way became a path as before, and it took them winding along the side of the ridge, then it led them across an open field and straight to the base of a low cliff. There, the path proceeded into the gate of a keep set with stone in the wall of the cliff. Torches were already lit along the top of the wall where men stood watch. The gate was opened for them and as they passed into the keep they entered the mouth of a well-lit tunnel that was cut into the mountain. It was high enough to ride through and reminded Robby of the troll house where Billy had been taken. Except this one was better lit and not as smelly. The passage inclined upward, and the cobblestone floor rang loudly as they went, making it difficult to talk.
"Was this made by trolls?" Robby asked.
"Aye, for the most part," answered Makeig. "But we laid the cobblestones an' worked the braziers an' cut channels along the sides to let the water run out an' keep the road dry. We built the keep outside, too."
"It seems a long tunnel," commented Ullin.
"It is fair long, about a half-furlong. It gets pretty steep, so mind yerselves!"
Indeed it got steeper, and at one point Robby worried his horse might slip. But all their mounts were sure-footed, and they moved slowly along without incident. Still climbing and rounding a bend, they could see a purple sky through the opening above and ahead of them. When they emerged, they were on the top of a broad ridge. Above them on their right, lights from many buildings and houses glowed from a town that crowned a hill about a mile off. Between here and there, they passed through fields and farms, and several folk came from their houses to greet Makeig as he passed. The path took them gently along, crossing wooden bridges over swift-running streams, and soon they were riding through the main street of the small town, dogs barking at them, music coming from a tavern, and folks going about their evening chores before bedtime. Makeig took them on until they came to a large building of stone and logs, and there they stopped.
"This is our Great House," Makeig said. "It is where I stay when I ain't at me cottage, an' where we meet an' make our government, too."
"You have some kind of government?" Ullin asked.
"Aye, an' I'm the mayor. We got a sheriff, some judges, councilmen, clerks, an' even a jailor. There's the Council for Defense, the Council for Crops, Livestock, an' Commerce, an' the Roads an' Works Council, too. Purty much everone's on some kind of council or other."
"Impressive," said Ashlord.
"Well, we've been tryin' to get away from the thievin' line, if ye take me meanin', an' more into the real way of livin'," Makeig said as he dismounted. "But it ain't easy, what with warlords on two sides, an' enemy agents forever out to arrest any who try to trade with the south parts. Janhaven is about our only real partner in these parts. When the mountains are good to us, they yield good rubies an' other stones, so we've done trade with Glareth an' Duinnor, even, through roundabout ways. But we have to be independent-like, least-ways until there's some change in Tracia, which don't seem likely to happen all too soon. Here, let me men take yer horses. They'll get stabled right. We got some rooms inside where ye can stay the night. Meanwhiles, we'll have a pint or two over at the tavern whilst we round up this messenger feller."
"I'd rather we not make too much of a show of ourselves," Ashlord said.
"Ah, ye mean to keep yer business private-like. I understand," Makeig nodded, slapping Ashlord on the back. Ashlord winced as Makeig continued. "No problem. Ye ain't got that much to give away, do ye? Just wantin' a way west, is all. I'll send word for them Blaney brothers, too. Ye can ask them questions 'stead of the other way 'round."
As the horses were led away, they took their gear inside to a room that looked something like a barracks, with cots lined through it. Then Makeig led them back outside and down the way to the tavern, called the Green Sail. Soon they were settled at a table, and pitchers of beer were being put before them. It was a surprisingly well kept place, and there was a sense of pride in its decidedly nautical theme. Everywhere were ship's fittings, brass lanterns, blocks, netting, and swinging rudders served as doors. It soon came out that the barkeep, and master brewer, was a shipmate of Makeig's on many voyages and fell by the same fate as many of the others when the Royal Family was ousted. Most of the accoutrements were locally made or carefully collected over time from the gleanings of passersby or from Furaman's connections. At any rate, the beer was fine and the wear of the road was soon forgotten. The barkeep, under Makeig's orders, kept the travelers' table stocked with fresh pitchers, as well as fried potatoes and cheese, and he stoked up the fireplace. There were few locals and none asked any questions, though they were friendly enough and smiled and raised their own tankards to the strangers. But they kept an eye on Robby's group. Sheila, not exactly trusting, kept her face away from them and pulled her collar up. Billy prattled on about what adventures these folks must have, with Ibin nodding in agreement between gulps. Ullin and Ashlord were more restrained, saying little as they puffed their pipes and kept an eye on the door.
Soon enough, Makeig came in with another man, and at the sight of him, Ullin stood. The man was thin, but tall, and very pale in the face, with light almost yellow hair, and dressed in fine light armor. Seeing Ullin, he approached quickly and bowed.
"This here's the feller what come from Tallinvale to speak with ye," Makeig said.
"I am Tyrillick, of the House of Sycamore," said the man. His blond hair draped down across his shoulders, glistening in the light, and his blue eyes glittered with a repressed spirit. Though his build was slight, and he had the spryness of youth, his age was a mystery, his face at once young and ancient, as if it had known no change for a thousand years. "Are you Ullin Saheed Tallin?"
"I am." Ullin bowed.
"I am honored." Tyrillick returned the bow. "I am to escort one of your party to Tallin Hall. Your cousin, Robby. Is he here?"
"That is him," Ullin motioned at Robby who was by now standing across the table looking on.
"What business does my grandfather have with me?" Robby asked.
"I do not know what, if any, business he has with you. I am not in service to him, nor am I privy to his business. I serve and am sent by one who wishes to meet you at his estate. I am to say this to you..."
The words he then spoke were in the First Tongue, and everyone in Robby's party understood them instantly. Sheila slowly stood as an odd chill ran down her spine. Tyrillick's voice resounded in the same manner that Robby's words had done when he declared his love for her those many weeks ago. There was the same chiming sound, the same melancholy rhythm and intonations. But the message delivered by Tyrillick also carried a powerful counterpoint, like the distant clap of iron thunder resonating across the sky and through the earth.
The Bell of Attis loudly rings.
It raises stones and casts down kings.
The noise of the tavern slowly replaced the fading sound of Tyrillick's words. Ashlord and Robby glanced at each other. Whoever sent this messenger knew Robby to be the Bellringer. Makeig stood silent, baffled that he understood the haunting words, though they were in a tongue he had never before heard.
"Tallinvale is out of our way," Ullin finally said, sharing the apprehension that suddenly gripped the group.
"We know your way lies west and that you must go with all speed," Tyrillick nodded. "It is not our intention to delay you unnecessarily."
"Can you but tell us who your master is?" Ashlord asked.
"I am not permitted to say, Collandoth," replied the messenger sharply with a mischievous glint in his eye. "But I offer this as a token of who sends me."
He took from his pouch a small box and drew forth a tiny crystal vial that glittered like a yellow jewel. He uncorked it, and a strange golden mist wafted out from the vial. With it floated an aroma like springtime along a mountain meadow full of blossoms and clean air and youth. They all felt refreshed and invigorated by the scent though it was so light and airy that it was barely a scent at all. Ashlord smiled and looked at Robby.
"No one knows the brewing of that perfume except one House of all those of the world," he said to Robby. "And it is wise that Tyrillick does not speak his master's name. I would encourage us to go there if at all possible, even if it is out of our way. But the decision is yours."
Robby looked at Ashlord, then at Ullin.
"We still need to meet with the Blaney brothers," said Robby. "So we cannot come right away."
"They'll be here soon," spoke up Makeig, who only now roused himself from a faraway daze brought on by the perfume. "Ye can't leave afore mornin', anyways. Ye need to rest."
"Rightly so," said Tyrillick. "Nor need all of you come. If you say you will come, and if Ullin Saheed will show you the way, then I will carry word ahead of you to make all ready."
Robby gave the group a questioning glance, but they were all silent, waiting for him to decide.
"I'll not commit any but myself and Ullin, if he will guide me," said Robby. "But I will come as soon as I can. How far is it from here?"
"One day, giving a swift horse no rest. Two, with ease."
Robby shook his head. He already had in mind one detour, to Tulith Morgair, that would cost them time.
"Then I will leave early tomorrow," he said.
"Very well, I will depart now and carry the word," Tyrillick turned to go. "Until then, safe journeys!"
"That's awful strange," said Billy after Tyrillick had departed. "Very abrupt-like, if ye ask me. An' what about that perfume? Mighty strange sensations it gave off! Who's the maker of it?"
"Billy," Ashlord advised him, "it is best not to ask too many questions just now. All will be revealed when we return."
"Huh?"
"You and Sheila and Ibin will stay here while Robby, Ullin, and I go to the Tallin lands."
"What?" cried Sheila. "Why can't we all go?"
"Someone needs to stay and see to our route west," Ashlord coolly explained. "And I think we may save time if we travel with fewer in our company."
Before Billy or Sheila could protest, Ibin spoke up.
"Ithink, Ithink, weshould, weshouldallstaytogether, Mr.Ashlord," Ibin said flatly.
Surprised by Ibin's statement, Billy stared at him and nodded.
"Well, I suppose we all have a stake in this journey," said Robby. "If this is business that has to do with us, then maybe it's best we share in the knowledge of it."
Ashlord leaned on his walking stick, intent upon Robby. Perhaps Robby was beginning to assert himself, at least in small ways. Ashlord perceived, too, that the others were in no mood to be left behind.
"Very well," he sighed at last. "Captain Makeig, is there any chance that we might meet with the Blaney brothers this night?"
"They've been sent for," he said, "an' should be here in a couple of hours. They'll be tired an' wantin' food an' sleep, though. Been out on the south patrol for a week."
"Can you tell us if our westward route may be taken up from the Tallin lands?" Robby asked. "Or should we come back through here?"
Makeig rubbed his nose in thought.
"Well, it's a bit south of what I reckon the Blaney brothers might commend to ye," he said, as if thinking aloud. "O' course, it's only a day or so out. But, then again, them warlords, hmm. Ain't no easy way west. Well, I reckon them Blaneys'll be best to tell ye," he said at last. "Meanwhiles, drink ye fill. An' supper's on the way! All on the house, ye might say, even though there's a jar up on the bar for loose coins, if ye take me meanin'."
"So what about that perfume?" Billy pressed as soon as Robby and Ullin sat back down.
"Its making is a secret," Ashlord said. "And that's all you need to know for now."
Billy rolled his eyes, took a long drink, and shook his head. The door opened, and a few women came in with baskets of food, and one of them, seeing Robby, hurried over to greet him.
"Master Ribbon! We meet again!"
"Sally Bodwin!" Robby stood and bowed. "Here I am."
"An' lookin' something better than the last time we met, too."
"I should hope so."
"An' these are yer friends? I hear yer bound for Duinnor."
"That's right. Here, let me introduce you to them."
Ashlord she had met, and he greeted her kindly. Ullin and Billy bowed, and Billy would hardly take his eyes from her for the rest of the night. Ibin also made an effort to bow, but immediately went back to his fried potatoes.
When they came to the last person, who remained seated and somewhat hunched, Sally asked, "An' this is?"
"Pradkin," Sheila interrupted, making her voice strangely low and gravelly. She kept her head down and had pulled up her hood as soon as the women entered. "Mr. Ribbon's particular bodyguard." She took Sally's hand into her gloved one and gave it a hard shake, still keeping her head down.
"Oh!" Sally said as Robby gave his bodyguard an odd look. "I had no idea ye needed a bodyguard."
"I don't actually need one," Robby said as he guided Sally away, shooting a puzzled look at Sheila. "But he's an old friend and a might strange in his ways. Somewhat attached to me, in an odd kind of way."
Sheila kept an eye on Robby and Sally as they moved across the room, Sally rubbing her arm and glancing back with a frown. Billy, too, looked after them as they pulled up stools at the bar.
"What was that all about?" he asked Sheila. But he was not inclined to hear her answer, so intent on Sally was he, and Sheila was not inclined to answer, anyway. Ibin, meanwhile, had absorbed himself in the food that was being laid out, and between "Thankyouthankyouthankyou," was snatching up bits of cheese, roast beef, and applecakes.
Ashlord and Ullin sat back down and neither ate enthusiastically, each in their own thoughts while Makeig excused himself again to look after more of his affairs. The tavern's business picked up and soon it was fairly crowded, in spite of Makeig's prediction, though most of the folk merely came in and after chatting with the barkeep, left soon after. Not before they had given the strangers a good once or twice over. Some greeted them by nodding their heads or tipping their wide colorful hats. Indeed, though the local people seemed well off—for none were ill-dressed—the travelers overheard snatches of ordinary talk about cows, crops, and weather. They were well-spoken, and the thick accent of the Tracian coast was pronounced by most of them. Ashlord's attention landed on one gentleman who was dressed in a dark coat of blue velvet and knee-high boots, a cocked matching blue hat with a white plume reaching from it, and a white blouse with frilly ruffles. He stood, one foot on the bar, one hand lifting a tankard while the other rested on the pommel of a sword hanging at his waist. It happened that their eyes met just as the man finished his draught, and, without taking his eyes from Ashlord, he put his tankard down and approached.
"I take it you are the one called Ashlord?" he asked.
"I am."
"I am Ramund Drayworth, late of Tracia, too long of Hill Town," he bowed. "I welcome you to our little community. I am the sheriff of this place and make it my business to look to any strangers that happen through."
Ashlord smiled neutrally while Ullin coolly studied the man's outfit.
"Mayhaps you are only passing through?" Drayworth asked.
"Yes, on our way west."
"West? Surely Hill Town is out of your way from Barley?"
"We come from Janhaven," said Ullin. "Perhaps you have not heard that Barley has fallen?"
"And you might be?"
"Ullin Saheed Tallin. And these are my companions."
"Ah, one of the Fairoak amongst us!" Drayworth grinned and bowed again. "An elf-blood, a wise man, a few Barleymen, and," he looked askance at Ibin, "a man of modest intellect, though prodigious appetite, I must observe. We are most honored by your visit, indeed. As for Barley, yes, we have all heard. And we know you come from Janhaven. Yet, out of the way it still seems for a westward trek. Yes, we have heard about the battle at Passdale and the refugees at Janhaven. But do the Redvests press you so that you cannot take the west road from there?"
"The west road be blocked by warlords," Billy stated, having taken an instant dislike to the fellow. "An' the north passes'll be covered by ice before we could reach 'em."
"You have not traveled westward very much, I think," Ullin added.
"No. No, I have not," Drayworth said as he drew up a stool. With a sweep of his coat and his scabbard, he sat at the end of the table, picking over the applecakes until he found a little one to his liking, daintily holding it to his mouth with two fingers. "I have had no need, and I lack the desire to go west," he said, nibbling. "My heart lies to the south and east."
"Are ye one of Makeig's crewmen?" Billy asked.
"That ragtag ruffmuffian rabble? I sincerely hope you are not serious."
Billy shrugged.
"I am the nephew of the Duke of Sharlofiorn, Prince Lantos, and how I came to be mere sheriff of this place is a sorry tale I'll not bore you with. But we have done well for ourselves here, don't you think? It is not easy to be out of one's place, as you are learning. Do you think your people will do as well, eh?"
"We don't mean to wait long enough to find out," Billy shot back. "Yer countrymen will learn a thing or two 'bout messin' with Barleyfolk!"
"Oh?" said Drayworth in an amused tone. "Do you mean to find help? Is that why you go west?"
"That is our intention," Ullin said bluntly.
Drayworth shook his head and took a tiny bite of the cake he had been waving about.
"Tsk, tsk," he said, producing a handkerchief with a flourish and daubing the corners of his mouth. "Duinnor will not help you. Why would they bother? Did they come to our aid? Did they send a single sword? Not even Glareth came, except to rescue some of my kin, and rather late in the game, at that."
As he spoke, he attempted to lower his head enough to see under Sheila's hood by letting his feet slide away under the table and slouching down on his stool with as much nonchalance as he could muster, but with an obvious and uncomfortable attention to balance as the seat of the stool ran into the small of his back.
"And now look what has happened," he went on. "The Red Tyrants spread their villainous empire. Allow me to share a thing or two about losing your country: First, you learn that you cannot count on all your countrymen."
He reached for another piece of applecake, but he did not lift it. Instead, he bent his head sideways very close to the table as if to examine it carefully, trying very hard to see under Sheila's hood as he continued to speak.
"Many are taken in by the glory of the new order, drunk with new-found power and position that they could never otherwise deserve or hope for. Second, if you oppose your conqueror, you do so at the loss of land, love, and friends, for he will have them all in his purse or else in their grave. And last, your enemy is as much those who have broken their promises to help as it is those who attack you. No, no. Go west if you must. Find out for yourselves."
At this point, he nearly slipped off the stool, but he deftly straightened back up, giving up his attempt to view the hooded one.
"The sooner you get accustomed to the idea that you are on your own, the sooner you will form new alliances, and the sooner you will begin to rebuild your strength. Do you think this town is a permanent place for us? No, there is not one amongst us who was not born here who does not breathe for the day he stands on his own lands again."
Drayworth suddenly stopped himself.
"Ah! I said I would not bore you, and there! I have! I only mean to say that if it is fighting the Redvests you mean to do, there are many here who would likely join you. If for no other reason than to strike back at those who have wronged us."
"Captain Makeig has already given us assurances of that," Ashlord said smoothly. "But it is good to hear it from another."
Drayworth rose and bowed.
"So there," he said. "I bid you a good stay and a safe journey."
"We thank you," Ashlord said. "Good night."
Drayworth strode out of the tavern with Billy glaring after him.
"What a fop!" Billy snorted. "I think he gave me a headache!"
"That fop was the greatest swordsman in all of Tracia," Ullin said quietly, pulling apart a piece of bread. "And he has killed as many men in single combat with his blade as he has in battle, it is said."
"Aye," whispered one of the women who had leaned past Ullin to pour more ale into his tankard. "An' seventeen assassins have died in pursuit of him. So far as we're countin', that is. Four of 'em this year alone."
Billy huffed disbelievingly as he rubbed the side of his head near his recent wound.
• • •
While Drayworth held forth with his friends, Robby and Sally sat at the bar having their own conversation.
"Captain Makeig told me once that the Prince sent to Duinnor for help many years ago," Sally said, "tellin' the King through his envoys that his rule over Tracia would fail if Duinnor did not send help. Two years later, his prediction came true. Later, not long after Martin took over here, he, too, sent an envoy to Duinnor. In fact, the Blaney brothers went, along with three others."
"When was that?"
"Oh, let's see. About ten years ago, I think. But nuthin' came of it."
Sally looked sympathetically at Robby.
"I don't mean to put ye off yer hope," she added, touching his arm. "There's always a chance they'll listen to ye, an' that ye may convince them to act. Especially since Tracia seems set on movin' against its neighbors."
"Well, we must try," stated Robby, looking blankly into his near-empty tankard. More people had arrived, many in jovial moods. And with all the loud talk and laughter and clanking tankards, the noise of the place was such that Robby and Sally had to lean their heads close together to keep from shouting. A few of the patrons had taken up instruments, fiddle, pipes, and mandolin, and their jaunty tunes also filled the smoke-laden air.
"Come along, Sal," a nearby man called over. "Give us a song!"
This was followed by a chorus of encouragement and entreaties, until at last she rolled her eyes and nodded.
"Duty calls!" she said to Robby as she stood off her stool. "Perhaps I'll see ye again?"
"I hope so," answered Robby. She joined the musicians, and Robby moved back to the table with his comrades.
"She's very pretty," Sheila said as he sat on the bench between her and Billy.
"Not to worry," grinned Robby. "I know where my heart is!"
"I think I know where Billy's might be, too!" she commented, nudging Robby to look around. Billy's gaze was fixed upon Sally. "Poor thing. She hardly knows he exists. And, anyway, we'll be leaving soon."
The plucking of a dulcimer joined the other instruments, and soon a melancholy aire somewhat quieted the crowd as expectant heads turned to face Sally.
'He rode through the night on a pale gray horse,
Through the moonlit shadows of the forest-land,
Back to the house where his true love was,
Galloping swift with sword in hand,
To take her away,
To get her away,
To flee and away from the Redvest band.'
'The Redvest band marched through the hills
Sweepin' the villages with anger and hate,
An' made for the glen by the standin' stones,
To the house on the shore of the River Slate,
To take the rebel's love
To bind the rebel's love,
To use the rebel's love as their bait.'
The ballad went on, clearly a familiar one to most of the listeners, and it ended with a rousing climax describing how the two lovers escaped into the night before they could be captured. Near the end of the song, Ullin saw Makeig re-enter the tavern with two other men. They hung about near the door, respectfully allowing the song to end before Makeig gestured for Ullin.
"I believe our guides have arrived," Ullin said to Ashlord and nodded toward the door. The group rose and followed Ullin. Robby and Billy glanced over their shoulders at Sally who watched them leave amid the applause.
Outside the tavern, Makeig made introductions.
"This here're the Blaney brothers, Gargeoff an' Markum," Makeig said as they all shook hands.
The two brothers were tall, swarthy men, with an unusual combination of black hair and green eyes. They appeared almost as twins, though separated by two years, in their early forties, and were similarly dressed in the oddly stained riding cloaks common among the men hereabouts, cloaks meant to make them blend more readily with the forest. Though obviously tired and weary, with several days of beard, they were patient and good-natured.
"I apologize for keeping you from rest," Ashlord said to them. "I hope we may make it up to you someday."
"Martin tells us ye mean to go west by a southerly route," Markum Blaney said. "If ye manage to get Duinnor to send aid, where others have failed, that will be payment aplenty!"
"Your captain tells us that you two know the westward passes and byways best," Ullin said as they walked briskly to the Great House.
"We know them as well as any," Gargeoff Blaney replied. "In the Great House we have maps, an' we can better show ye an' tell ye what we know. But I must say it is a dangerous route. The passes are narrow, an' it is easy to get caught by the Damar what swarm the western side. I would not want to go west that way."
"How else would you go?"
Gargeoff shrugged.
"As for meself," Markum said as he pulled open the big oaken door of the Great House, "I'd rather go farther south, crossin' at the frontier between the Damar's southernmost territory an' closer to Masurthia."
"That is too close to the way the Tracian Redvests would take if they were to invade Masurthia," Ashlord said. "And I fear troop movements may already be taking place. And it is too far and too dangerous for friends of Duinnor."
"Friends of Duinnor!" Makeig huffed. "Duinnor should learn to be a friend!"
The brothers led the way into a large hall. Various pennants and tapestries hung, some depicting coastal scenes and others showing signs of battle-wear. The wooden beams were carved with seafaring motifs and various Tracian scripts, and at the far end of the room was a dais upon which an ornate chair sat.
"This is our meetin' hall," said Gargeoff, "where we hold court of justice, an' where our councils meet an' plan. Over here is our map room."
They were led through a side door into a smaller room in the center of which was a wide table. The room was walled in by several scroll shelves, and brightly burning lamps hung down over the table to illuminate its surface. Markum pulled out a chart and spread it across the table and pointed out where they were, southwest of Janhaven and nearly due north of Tallinvale.
"If ye left from here, ye could travel almost due west," he said. "With caution ye might make it through the passes an' safely out onto the plain beyond."
"But if ye plan on goin' from Tallinvale," Gargeoff took up, "ye'll be two days, at least, out of the way. We just returned from the western limits of Tallin territory, an' those parts are teemin' with Damar scouts an' patrols. "
"We think they make ready for some action," said Markum. "They're raidin' their own villages with press gangs, an' besides gettin' men for their army, they're takin' slaves an' provisions. A western path from Tallinvale would almost certainly take ye right into them, since Damar City, the warlord's stronghold, is that way."
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.