The Phoenix Unchained (12 page)

“That’s where we’re going,” Tiercel said. “We could travel together, if you liked. I suppose we’ll have to cut back over to the Delfier Highway, though, if you’re in a hurry,” he added, sounding reluctant.

Simera swished her bound tail in amusement, never breaking her swift, even stride. “The War Road can be just as fast—faster, since we won’t have to keep pulling off the road to let the freight wagons have right of way. And if you don’t mind taking a few short-cuts through the forest. Don’t worry. I won’t let you get lost.”

“That sounds like fun,” Tiercel said eagerly. “Right, Har?”

“More fun than losing our mules to a bunch of bandits,” Harrier said.

Tiercel was doing it again.

He’d lost count of the times he’d gotten dragged into some wacky adventure by Tiercel’s conviction that everybody he met was his new best friend. Granted, most of them turned out perfectly fine. And—granted again—not only had Simera gotten them out of a bad situation, but the Forest Watch was known to be a force for Good, doing much the same thing outside the Nine Cities as the City Watch did within them, though over a much larger area.

As they made their way toward the Bell and Horn—the nearest inn on their route—they exchanged stories—including the puzzling
matter of the warning the Fauns had given Tiercel and Harrier—and soon knew as much about each other as any of them cared to tell.

Simera was about their own age, and like Harrier, in her Apprenticeship year. In Simera’s case, since she intended to enter the Forest Watch, this meant she would be spending the next year on her own, traveling through the forests that the Watch traditionally guarded, both in order to get to know them, and in order to learn to survive on her own in every season.

THE Bell and Horn was a large and busy place. Tiercel stayed with the mules at the edge of the inn yard while Harrier went in to buy them cider and cold pies, and Simera went to look for someone to whom she could report their encounter in the forest.

When she came back, Harrier had already returned with food. Simera took her share, saying that she’d only been able to leave a message, and that the Watchman had been through here only yesterday, so it would be almost a sennight before someone from the Forest Watch would receive it. But certainly the landlord would tell the story to everyone who stopped—if for no other reason than it was an exciting one—and word would spread swiftly up and down the Delfier Highway.

“And he hadn’t? . . .” Harrier asked, around a mouthful of mutton pie.

Simera made a rude noise. “Heard of any such trouble as this? My great-grandmother hadn’t been foaled the last time there were bandits in these woods, Harrier Gillain! Oh, beyond Sentarshadeen, yes, you’ll see outlaws in the Avribalzar Forest and parts east now and then, but here in the Delfier? The Delfier is an old tame forest.”

“I wonder why now?” Tiercel said.

“Well don’t go trying to find out,” Harrier said hastily, and Simera looked at both of them curiously.

But by the time they reached the Three Trees, they discovered that the master of the Bell and Horn had been ignorant, or over-cautious, or a combination of both.

The Three Trees was filled to overflowing. It was the second inn they tried, pushing on till much later in the day than they’d intended to stop, as the first one they’d tried, the Happy Faun, was so crowded they simply hadn’t bothered to seek beds for the night once they saw the condition of the innyard. Now Harrier wished they had.

Tiercel had seemed fine all day—well, after that little bobble while they were leaving the central City this morning—and in the high spirits of the trip, Harrier had really managed to forget that Tiercel was actually
sick
. But as the day wore on, Tiercel had gotten very quiet. And then, after they passed the Happy Faun, he’d started swaying in his saddle as if he’d been riding for days instead of hours. So, although the Three Trees was even more crowded than the Happy Faun had been, Harrier was determined: they were stopping here if he had to unroll their bedrolls behind the stables.

“No room!” the landlord said, catching sight of them as they crowded into the Common Room. Every table was filled, and so many people were standing in the spaces between that it was hard for the servants to make their way from the kitchens with platters and mugs. “I can give you feed and water for your animals, but I have no beds. A corner of my hayloft, though, at a fair price. I won’t turn you away,” he said kindly, looking at Tiercel.

“What’s going on?” Harrier asked, raising his voice to be heard over the sound of too many people talking all at once.

“Trouble on the road ahead,” the landlord said, wiping his hands on his apron. “I see there’s just the three of you, and one in Forester Green besides. Watchman, have you not heard the news? The Watch says it isn’t safe for parties of less than twenty to travel.
Warning was just set by the Watch this morning for all travelers along the Delfier Highway.”

“We came by the War Road,” Harrier answered.

The landlord stared at him as if he’d gone mad.

“Well,” he finally said, “the War Road’s no worse than the Delfier. But
I
wouldn’t take it.”

“But that’s outrageous!” Now Simera had forced her way through the press of people and had come to stand beside Harrier. “When has the forest ever been unsafe?”

“Since Kindling, Forester,” the landlord said simply. Though the inn was busy, he obviously relished the chance to rest and impart his tale to those who did not know it.

“Oh, nothing that the Watch could rightly speak to. Just accidents. Trees falling. A woodsman’s axe going awry. Just what you’d see in any springtide, but never so many as this year. Then folk started wandering off. At first it was just them getting lost and going astray that never had before. And soon enough found. And if a few more pigs and dogs and deer disappeared than normal and
weren’t
found again, nobody noticed that . . . until people started vanishing too; and last night, a whole caravan in a lay-by not half a mile from here—well, they came to me for supplies three days ago and bespoke breakfast, and when I sent my boy out with the breakfast hampers the next morning, there was nothing there at all but their carts. It’s worse east of here; there’s been travel proscriptions on the road since Kindling, but now they’ve extended them into the Delfier. Until the Forest Watch finds out what’s wrong, well, nobody’s going to be going anywhere alone. You’ll find every inn along the road as crowded as mine—or more. Folk stop until they find enough others heading for their destination.”

Harrier glanced at Tiercel. Tiercel was swaying on his feet, looking as if he’d be on the floor in another moment. “We’ll take the hayloft,” he said quickly.

THE innkeeper was as good as his word, and fortunately the season was mild, for their animals, along with those of a number of other latecomers to the Three Trees, could not be properly stabled at all, but would spend the night hitched to hastily-constructed hitching-posts at the back of the innyard. So close to the Delfier Highway, there was no danger that the inn would run short on provisions, but the idea that foot travelers, caravans, and even freight wagons must queue together for safety was more than disturbing. It was frightening.

“It started at Kindling,” Tiercel said, as Harrier led him out of the Common Room.

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” Harrier said. His mind was on the problem of getting their gear into the stable, and the pack-mule’s gear into the hayloft, for with so many people in the inn, they would have to do most of the work themselves. Fortunately, he was no stranger to hard work.

“Kindling was when I—”

“Shh!” Harrier said, for just then Simera arrived to join them.

“We can’t get dinner for at least an hour,” Simera said with a sigh. “That’s half a bell, Armethaliehan time. That should give you time to get the mules settled. You might as well do a good job of it. Who knows how long you’ll be here waiting to make up a traveling party? I wish I’d known. If I’d been on the roads—instead of in the forest—I
would
have known. Then I could have warned you to—”

“I can’t wait,” Tiercel said with a groan. He staggered over to one of the benches in front of the stable and sat down with an inelegant thud. “I have to get to Sentarshadeen
now
.”

Simera stared at him. “What could possibly be that urgent?”

“I’m—”

“Tiercel—”

“I’m looking for a Wildmage to interpret a vision I’ve had,” Tiercel said defiantly, glaring at Harrier miserably.

To Harrier’s profound relief, Simera didn’t laugh. And to his faint disgust, she seemed to think it was a perfectly reasonable reason for tearing off somewhere as if your tail was on fire. She thought the matter over for a moment, and then nodded.

“Oh. Well. You’re going to have to go farther east than that, I guess. I don’t think there are any there, though they don’t always reveal themselves. The Light Temple will know. And if you really need one—”

“I really need one,” Tiercel interrupted.

“—one will probably find you. But if you’re seeking one out, you’ll probably have to go as far as Ondoladeshiron or Ysterialpoerin to be sure of finding one.”

“But—they’re moonturns away!” Harrier groaned. “We’re only supposed to be gone a few sennights.”

Simera shrugged. “Maybe a Wildmage will find you,” she repeated.

Harrier sighed. “Well, a Wildmage won’t find us tonight. And those mules need to be unsaddled. Tiercel, you stay here.”

“I can help.”

“You can sit.”

“WHAT’S wrong with your friend?” Simera asked, as the two of them made their way to where the ostlers had left the mules.

Harrier shrugged. “Nothing. I don’t know.”

“If you don’t want to tell me, fine.”

“I’ve just told you as much as the best Healers in Armethalieh know,” Harrier said defiantly. “Maybe he’s just . . . worried.”

“He kept a cool head with those brigands. He seems very nice.”

“He
is
nice,” Harrier said, a little more forcefully than he intended to. “That’s why he’s always getting into trouble.”

“And I suppose you’re always around to keep him out of trouble?” Simera asked perceptively.

“Not that it works,” Harrier said, grinning in spite of himself. “I don’t know what’s wrong. Nobody does. But something’s . . . wrong.”

And it started at Kindling
.

“Well, in that case, you’re
sure
to find a Wildmage, if you just keep looking. They keep the Balance, you know. So when there’s wrong, they put it right.”

In that case
, Harrier thought,
why didn’t one just come to Armethalieh and save us all the trouble of going to Sentarshadeen?
“Come on, let’s get these mules unsaddled,” he said firmly. “You have
no
idea how much trouble Tiercel can get into when your back is turned.”

But for once Harrier’s dire predictions about Tiercel’s trouble-finding abilities didn’t come true. When they returned to the front of the stables—making the first of what would have to be several trips—all they found was Tiercel at the center of a ring of human and Centaur children. From the sound of things, he was telling them fascinating wondertales of times gone by. And by the time Simera and Harrier had completely unloaded the pack mule and brought the equipment into the stable, Harrier had heard enough of the story to recognize it.