Silver May Tarnish (21 page)

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Authors: Andre Norton

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Gathea, the blank-shields cat, was growing. There had been a great slaughter of mice on our arrival so that now, at the least, all of their tribe stayed out of the keep. She was a friend to all in Honeycoombe and honored was anyone on whose bed she would sleep the night. Meive and I had taken bedrooms within the keep and it was often on our beds, during the day at least, that she was to be found. We were very willing she should, since her rent was paid in dead mice and safer food supplies. We had been in the dale a month and a half when Meive came to me.
“In the morning I go to the shrine. I would bespeak my Lady of the Bees and return with the hives from the plateau where lies my cave.”
“You do not go alone?” I said in alarm.
“I thought to take Vari and Levas. It would be a pleasant trip for them.” I thought she was right But if she had forgotten our enemies I had not, nor would I.
“Take another man, at least.” My words were close to an order but she bowed her head.
“As you will.”
I took her hand. “What am I to do while you are gone from me?” I made a moping face, yet were my words half serious and that she knew.
“Long ago, when I was a child, Ithia chose me. Soon after that time I was wandering to fetch in the cow from the
inner vale. I lingered playing and there I found another place.”
“Another place?” I echoed. Did she mean a cave, a second vale?
“Another small valley. It leads from the inner vale. The walls about it are higher and rougher still. Nor is the entrance easy to find.” She paused. “Indeed I think it is hidden from most in some way. Ithia bade me say nothing of it nor enter once I told her. I listened yet never did I hear my family or friends speak of it. I think none knew.”
“How large is it? Is there good grass, water?” I was eager.
“I think it twice the size of the inner vale. There is good grass but there are also many bushes. Like to beelove but with larger flowers. There is water. A stream, very small, which comes down the cliffs then vanishes into the ground. It may be from that our spring in the keep derives.”
This was good. But had Honeycoombe been so rich they had no need of the land? I knew they had not. Ithia had bid Meive stay apart and speak not of this place. Well, whatever reason she might have had for that had died with her. Meive knew it not. I would wait until my lady was gone, then occupy my time in exploring this new dale. If the entrance was truly so hard to find it could be an additional refuge for us all in time of trouble.
I saw Meive off next morning. Then, taking up a carry-sack, I added a wineskin, bread and cheese, and a piece of honeycomb. I took my old Drustan. He would enjoy the quiet ride, and though he was now well on in years, being almost seventeen, he was still able to carry an unarmored man if there was no haste. The day was good, fine yet not too warm. I rode slowly, enjoying the clean air, the hum of bees, and the sight of a hawk high up over the hills.
Once I reached the far end of the inner vale I dismounted to search. Meive was right. The entrance was well enough hid yet not so greatly others should not have found it. I know what children are, being none so aged myself.
They run here and there, prying into holes and corners. Thus they find what many adults would pass by. I walked the pony past boulders, behind them I found an arch barely high or wide enough to pass a tall man afoot or a laden pack-pony.
The hole reminded me of a man knapping flint. He strikes off rounded flakes as he works. It seemed as if some giant had paused here, struck away a flake then moved on again. For that was the shape of the gap, and never did I change my mind. But as I stared through the opening I knew, too, that this was the place of which Meive had told me. I could see the stream, the beelove, and other bushes I could not identify. It was true the entrance was not so obvious yet I had found it with no great difficulty.
From where I stood in the archway I judged the valley to hold some hundred and a half acres in the shape of a long oval. It was sheltered so that once through the arch it was warmer. The winds soared above the high cliffs about it and did not descend to chill. Maybe that was the reason for the presence of the strange bushes. Perhaps only in such a sheltered spot could they live through Winter. I thought that in the very height of Summer it might not be so pleasant here. I had come in the early morning and Summer was waning. Yet by sunhigh it would be so hot here a man would feel as though he melted. I stared about and marveled no child before Meive should have found it. Leading Drustan, I walked boldly in.
It was as I entered that I felt it: a sort of questioning touch, as if something reached out to sort through my mind. The feeling changed then to a kind of recognition. Now it welcomed me. I shrugged such ideas away as I tramped on. Drustan followed but nervously, his eyes rolling as if he, too, felt that touch. I followed the thread of stream up the valley. It would be interesting to see where it led. I think it may have been in my mind that if the inner vale led from Honeycoombe, and this led from the inner vale. Then there might yet be further valleys.
I must admit that, at first, I had wondered if we should
not take Merrowdale to hold rather than Honeycoombe. Since I thought that if we chose the latter, although it was Meive's beloved home, it was also the lesser dale in size. But as I now knew, if we added the pasturage of both inner and outer vales, Honeycoombe was a prize. Easier to defend, easier to pasture stock which could not easily stray, and sheltered so that the grass would continue to grow well into the cold months.
Drustan hauled nickering at his reins as we passed some of the strange bushes. I saw then that they were laden with small fruit. Some sort of berry? I had remounted to ride up the stream. Now I stepped from the saddle again and approached the fruit. I studied it. The globes were full and firm, colored a rich orange-red. I would not risk eating any since unknown fruit can be poisonous. But I would bring some back with me.
Levas had found a wild sow and her piglets last week. After some trouble we had them penned by his cottage. I would feed a piglet the fruit and see. If all was well the fruit might be a fine addition to our own diet. Meive might know more if I brought some back to her. I would ride on, circle the valley, see what else there was to be seen, before picking a generous bag full of the fruit on my return circle.
I reached the end of the valley by late morning. The stream seemed to tumble down the cliffs at that point. It had worn a deep crevice in the cliff edge high above, and down the face. The edge of that was starred with tiny white flowers and green ferns. I dismounted, unsaddled, and hobbled Drustan, brought out my wineskin and the food, sharing a crust now and again with my pony. As I ate I whittled at a reed. There was a stand of them at a marshy comer of the stream edge once it reached the ground.
I thought that doubtless when the stream increased with the Winter rains it created a reed-fringed pool here. By the time I had finished my food I had made of the reed a fine whistle. Then I began to play. My brother Anla taught me first to make reed whistles thus and I always thought of him
when I did so. I played first a marching tune from my days with Lord Salden. From that I found I was playing a ballad. A song born in my own dale which sang of how my ancestor had met a child of the Old Ones and saved her. From the crevice behind the water a voice spoke.
“Who are you to play that song?” So deep in memory had I been that I answered without thinking of the strangeness.
“I am Lorcan, only child left alive from the House of Erondale. Who else should play it?” I saw a stirring in the crevice. I could see no definite shape but the shadow was large enough to be a small woman, or an older child.
“Of that House? What do you here then, Lorcan of Erondale?” No, this was no child. The voice was that of a woman. Not young, but beyond that I could not tell.
“Speak! What do you here?” The voice became urgent. So I talked, still wrapped in memories. I think now that she held me in some small spell so I should talk freely without fear. But at the time it appeared natural, as if I conversed with a friend who would hear all which had happened to me after long apart. So I spoke of Erondale and how it had fallen, of the death of all my family and how Berond and I had come to Paltendale. Then I spoke of Meive and how she had saved me, of the shrine where she was claimed as daughter to the hive. At length I was done and my voice drifted into a long silence before that other spoke again.
“You came here then, fleeing the death which was laid upon your own dale. Sad am I that Erondale has fallen. Always I meant to return for one last time.”
“You knew my home?” I asked.
“Long before you did.” The voice was tart but amused.
I challenged that amusement. “How long before?”
It did not answer my question but spoke of Meive. Was it indeed true that she had dwelt a while in the shrine beyond the hills? Had I also seen that place, had I entered? So I talked of Meive. Of the Lady of the Bees who dwelled in the shrine, and the peace Meive and I had found there. After
that I spoke again of Meive herself. I think then I betrayed my love for her because the voice became gentle.
“The girl, Meive. What like is she?”
So I talked of my love. I found I was confessing that time in the hills when we saved Elesha and her kin. How Meive had hurt me, turning in anger against men who brutalized. And yet, was she not right? It was men who brought war, suffering, death. Men who … The voice cut in.
“Lorcan. Do you think women, too, cannot bring these things? I have heard of women who rode to war. Of those who killed and tortured. Each is accountable for her own sins. Let you not take upon your own head those deeds you have not committed.” I found myself comforted by that thought. I had been tempted during the war, yet never had I laid hands on a woman unwilling. Nor had I harmed children. Those I fought and slew had been the enemy alone, men trained and armed. As if the voice followed my thoughts it spoke.
“Yes and yes. In war a man does right to protect his kin and home. If he must kill to do so then that is no evil. The evil is those who come seeking to take by force what is not theirs to have. And if a man will not fight for what is right, who shall? Yet the girl spoke to you out of her own fear I think. For as she watched she saw what would have been her earlier fate had she not been defended by her wing-friends. Do not be angered by fear, Lorcan. It is fear that often reminds one of what should be done.”
At that I, too, was reminded. Of how I planned to set guard-posts about Honeycoombe, and how I was enlarging the keep. The voice seemed interested, asking questions, encouraging me to talk of my plans, my hopes and dreams. Much of what I said or saw in that day is lost to me. I do not remember. Only that finally I was given leave to go. Yet the feeling was laid on me I would be welcome to return. I and Meive alone. That none other of our small company should enter.
So I rode back to the outer dale and kept silent. Meive returned with the hives in six days and I was glad to see her again. I showed that pleasure openly and saw her smile. Nor was it the indulgent smile women are wont to show at such times as they think a man most like a happy child. No, her gaze met mine and clung. Then, after a time, she flushed, smiling more sweetly before she turned to oversee the hives as they were placed in the lower pastures of beelove. That night I took her aside and told of the valley.
“Did you see who spoke?”
“I am not certain yet I believe not. Some things are blurred in my memory. But we talked long and I felt no threat. Yet,” I hesitated then finished. “Yet, I do think that one is such as could threaten very well if she wished. I felt power, old and very strong. And she knew my home, she knew Erondale. She said she sorrowed for its passing, that she had wished to look upon it one more time.” At that Meive questioned me hard. I had only impressions, feelings about what the voice had said, but Meive's questioning brought me to know what I believed.
I spoke slowly when her questions ceased. “I think she was either the one whom my ancestor saved from an evil man or that she is kin to that one. That she has known my dale from that time—it is four generations, Meive. It was my great-grandfather who saved a girl-child of the Old Ones from the hands of Pletten.”
“Pletten?” Her voice was without inflection as if she merely repeated the name. Yet I felt the query, so once again I found myself talking, telling old tales of rougher times in the early days of Erondale. I had mentioned a little of the story to her once but now I told it all to her, just as it had been told to me by Berond. I fell into the cadence and rhythm of the storyteller and saw with pleasure that Meive was entranced. She listened in silence, hanging on my every word. Never did a man have a more appreciative audience so that I spun it into a greater length, the more to enjoy my moment. Once I was done she stood.
“He was a man like those who held Elesha captive.” Her tone was that of a lady who judges in a Dales Court. “Your great-grandfather did right.” With that she left me abruptly so that I was sorry I had told her. Likely my foolish tale had brought back to her all her own dangers and fears.
I
might have warned our people to stay away from the valley but for Meive. She counseled I say nothing.
“Many went to the inner vale. None I ever knew save myself and perhaps Ithia found the strange place beyond. It may be that the archway is hidden to other eyes.”
“I entered,” I objected.
“Aye, and were welcomed. But we have pastured cows and horses in the inner vale. A few of the goats I could not chase out roamed there while I was gone and you know what they are. Did you see signs they had entered? Was the grass cropped?” I had to admit I had seen no signs. Meive nodded. “I think people and beasts both see no entrance. Let be, Lorcan. If we speak of it there will always be one who must seek it out and I do not think whoever abides there wishes other visitors.”
Since such had been my own feeling I did as she said and kept silent. After all, there was no need to hunt out other work. The keep was completed, the cottages all put into good repair. Meive's bees worked long and hard gathering nectar, and one of Levas's men, Criten by name, was a fair hunter. He brought in game ranging from deer to the small fat hill-hens. These we ate, but much of the spare
meat was also smoked or cured by the women. Vari had taken over the keep kitchen and most evenings we all ate there together, talking of the next day's work.
It was closing to Fall one evening when one of the children had news which startled us. It had been Meive's idea to use the children—even the little girls—as watchers and to my surprise it had worked well. Meive made sweets, candying stalks of angelica and rose petals, and these were given to any child on watch-duty who could bring us interesting news or information. It had become a source of pride to the children to do so—and the sweets had only added to that. There was little that did not happen now on which some pair of sharp eyes did not alight, and a small mouth announce it, in sometimes embarrassing detail, during a shared meal.
It had been Isa's turn to watch the road into Honeycoombe from the hiding place. She was about seven, a serious, responsible child who remembered the flight from her home and the bandits' actions at the shelter. Because of those memories she watched carefully, although she would accept the sweets as her due once she reported.
“I saw a man today.”
Meive sat up. “A man? Where? What was he doing?”
“He was riding about like he was looking for something.” None of us liked the sound of that. Further questioning revealed that the man had ridden leaning over his mount's shoulder, studying the ground as if he sought something lost. He rode a good mount, Isa was all admiration for it.
“A gelding, Lord Lorcan. The most beautiful horse I ever saw. All glossy black with one white hoof.”
Meive looked hard at the child. “Isa, why didn't you tell the sentry when this happened?”
“The man never came near. Then he rode away, a long long way, until I couldn't see him any more.”
I kept silent, but made resolve that the children must be told to report any man at once, no matter if he seemed
harmless or departed again. Sensing she had mayhap done the wrong thing, Isa looked anxiously at Meive, who reassured her.
“You watched very well, Isa. Three stalks of angelica for you tonight. Tell us more about the man. What did you think when you saw him? Did you make up a story about what he was doing?” From the relieved child's prattle we gained much more. Meive and I gathered Levas with a glance and the three of us drew aside to talk in lowered voices. I had information to impart first.
“I know who that likely was.”
Meive was swift. “One of Devol's men, one of the two who went to find a ransom.”
“So I think. Belo had a horse like that. He was a man who counted a good horse above most else. He boasted he'd had the beast from an old man and paid him with steel coin. He said the horse was too good to waste on some old fool. Belo and the horse Isa saw would fit what description she could give.”
“If he's a good hunter he'd find the path to Honeycoombe,” Levas commented.
“I think he had been a farmer, yet he was good enough at tracking. Nor would he be out here studying the land for no reason. Perhaps he seeks for Devol and his comrades?”
Meive nodded thoughtfully. “He is one man. Yet bandits are like rats. Where you see one there is like to be another ten you have not seen.”
I stood. “I had not thought to leave for another week, but if one scouts, better I be swift gone, swift to return. When we passed the cross-roads on the way here I bespoke Keris Innkeeper. He was to sound out those who might be willing to come here. He has had time to find some few and we have need of them. Levas, let me take Criten and another. We shall take two horses apiece. If we waste no time and those who would come can also ride hard, we could be back here in a ten-day.”
Meive looked up. “Nay, Lorcan. If they bring livestock and families they will not be able to ride hard, nor wish to. Better I go with Levas and Criten. My warriors will fly guard and scout for me. Nor will they slow our journey. We can make good time to the cross-roads with two mounts apiece. After that, if we must be slower, then at least you shall be here to defend Honeycoombe knowing we bring reinforcements.”
I did not like it but she was right. Keris knew her as my younger brother, yet, if she must reveal herself as she was, then a woman and moreover one clearly of some power would reassure those planning to join us, and, though I said it not, I would she was out of the dale if bandits attacked. So I agreed. Early the next morning she rode out with Levas and Criten. With them went three spare mounts. It would take five days riding to make the inn. Their return must needs be slower as Meive had argued. I watched her depart. For such time as it took to see her again I would be anxious.
With the three gone I gathered our people. I explained where my lady went and why. Then I called Isa to tell them of the man she had seen. She told her story proudly, speaking well and remembering small details new to us. I told them who I believed that man to be and why we should be very wary now. The children who watched must report anything at all which might be a man, even a great distance from us, or if they thought they saw danger of any kind. Better to have reported and be wrong, than be right and to have failed to warn us. The sentry must be alert always.
As for myself and our guards, three remained. The four of us would patrol the hills, coming together at arranged intervals to discuss anything we had seen. As Meive had said, bandits were like rats. Where you spy one there could be many. I thought one other at least might lurk somewhere about nearby, Todon had been with Belo when they rode away. If one lived and was in the area, the other might be. I
thought they hunted for Devol despite the time they had been gone.
Though that time puzzled me. It had been early Spring when Devol laid hands on me, almost Summer when Meive freed me. We had not set out at once. Then, since we were moving North, the weather had been less harsh. We had not been in great haste. I wished to take time, to allow Meive time to trust me. Thus we had ridden the length of the dales over many weeks. It had been Spring again when we reached Tildale. Now it was almost Fall. Belo and his comrade had set out seeking one to pay my ransom nigh on eighteen months gone.
I had thought nothing that they were gone until late Summer. Likely they had ridden first to my own dale to check what I said, that the invaders had destroyed all. After that, as Devol had ordered, they would have sought out Paltendale. They'd have got nothing from there … My thoughts crashed to a halt. No! They'd have got no ransom. But what if they met Hogeth? What if they told or he wrung from them all they knew—together with my name. Might he not then have taken them into his own service until such time as they could be sent here seeking me?
We had believed Hogeth still to have no knowledge of me save that I had ridden South. But if Devol's men had talked with my enemy, if they had been able to tell him only that a year gone I had been prisoner in their hands, then where else would he seek me and my captors but hereabouts ? I had none to counsel me. But perhaps if I did as Belo had done, if I rode as he had ridden … I called Isa and placed her in the hiding place to watch me closely.
Then, with Vari as a link between us, I rode Tas about the hill. Leaning over Tas's shoulder I peered at the ground as Belo had done. Isa, young though she was, had watched well. Vari called the child's instructions at intervals as I moved about the hill. It was a tiring morning, yet at length I thought I knew what the man had sought—and found.
“Isa says to go further West.”
I obeyed. Tas snorted irritably. He disliked all this confusion, I should make up my mind.
“Isa says a little more to the South now.”
I reined Tas that way slowly, moving a few feet at a time, and there was a sudden shriek from Vari.
“Isa says that was just where the man stopped and was leaning over.”
“What did he do then?” I shouted back.
“She says he stepped down, touching the ground, then he sort of nodded before he mounted and just rode away. To the North. He didn't stop. She could see him out of sight.”
I stared down. I'd wager he had. He'd found what he was looking for and unless I was a witless hill-hen, he was on the road back in haste to report. To whom I knew not for certain, though I believed I could guess and be right. What he would report, of that I was sure. At Tas's hooves lay a broad hardened track. Hidden in the heather but carven deep into the stony hillside was the track made, when with horse-team and stone-boat, we moved the squared building stones from Merrowdale to Honeycoombe. The track would be erased by the coming Winter, or disguised by water along the hills at thaw, but at the moment it was very evident.
Belo might not know who had made it but he would know such a deep mark bespoke a settlement of some kind at one end of the path or both. The question which disturbed me was, how far had the man to ride before he could make his report. If it was to Paltendale then we need not look for Hogeth or any attack until next Spring. It was several weeks riding straight to that dale, and a lone man had to ride carefully even now that the war was done. But if Hogeth was closer? I bethought me of a query that might tell us and called for Isa. She came with Vari.
“Isa. You watched the man ride out of sight. Was that far?”
She nodded seriously. “Yes, Lord. He was climbing towards
the track along the upper hills. Once he was there he was high up an' I could see him for a long way.”
“How did he ride? Was he in a hurry to reach the trail, did he ride faster or slower once he reached it?” I could see her thinking about it.
“He climbed up to the trail real slow. An' I don't think he rode faster when he got there. Maybe if you did it?”
I walked Tas up the hill to where the old high trail meandered along the upper slopes. It was one of the pack-pony trails traders had used before the war, though Meive said none had used it since she remembered and it was almost overgrown. It continued from the northern dales through Southern High Hallack past the Fen of Sorn and thence I knew not. Once Tas set foot upon it I rode North at a steady walk. I continued about a mile before I turned him to return. Back with Vari and the child, again, I saw Isa was clapping her hands.
“Lord, it was just like that.”
Vari looked up at me. “You walked Tas?” I nodded agreement. “Then likely he'd some distance to ride.”
I nodded. No bandit, no matter how proud of his horse, would walk the beast when he might run. Only a man who had a far distance to ride and but one mount. A man who'd had it impressed upon him he must take no risks. Or a man who thought better payment lay at the end of a slow-taken trail so he'd be fit to ride back with his comrades.
I returned in silence, Vari riding on ahead. Gods, what a careless fool I had been those years ago, to mistakenly fling gold instead of the intended silver coin in Hogar's face. Of course he would have spoken of it to his son, in outrage at what he would have seen as my ingratitude if for no other reason. Hogeth would care nothing for my reasons though. It would be the gold on which he fastened. He would remember the story in his own House, of how my great-grandfather had come riding to Paltendale, paid blood-price in gold for Pletten.
From there it was a small step in reasoning which was half hope. My dale had once paid a great blood-price. I had owned gold to fling in the face of one who angered me. Therefore the blood-price had not exhausted all my dale had. But my dale was ruined. I could not return to live there. If I had coin why should I not set forth to find another dale I could settle? And in the South where the war had mostly not come, or had come and gone quickly, was a good place to seek a dale of my own again. Thus would Hogeth reason and he was right.
In one way I was between the arrow and the sling. If I used my coin to hire more guards for Honeycoombe then I shouted to all I had coin to spare. If I hired no more men, then might Hogeth come in force with men from Paltendale. I mulled over the problem all the way home. Isa must have known I thought deeply and wished to do so undisturbed. She said nothing as we rode, but settled herself into the crook of my arm, leaned against my shoulder, and appeared to drowse. It was a pleasant feeling. A child's trust is a precious thing and mayhap it helped me think.

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