The Swans' War 1 - The One Kingdom (27 page)

Conversation was impossible, for she stayed far enough behind Dore that the branches he pushed aside did not sweep back and strike her, but she longed to ask him how he thought they would escape. Certainly the huntsmen from the castle would find their tracks easily and follow them into this wood. And they were traveling so slowly here. When they came down into the valley she was certain that Menvvyn and the Prince would be waiting, for any fool would have this wood encircled in a trice.

They began to descend, the path snaking back and forth across the slope. An hour and this charade would be over, Elise thought. And foolish Gwyden Dore would find that his tale had the tragic ending after all—at least for him. She would merely suffer a lecture from Menwyn—unpleasant enough—but her guide . . . She did not like to think what would befall him.

For an hour they meandered down the hillside, following the narrow way, and then the land leveled and they came upon another small stream hidden among the trees. Gwyden Dore jumped down to water his horse and to drink himself. Elise stayed in the saddle.

"I am turned around," she said, gazing about.” I thought we descended into the Cloffen Wold. Where are the open fields and the village of Kadre?" "We have come a different way," her guide said. She could see him now for the first time since the sun had risen. He balanced on a rock at the stream edge, crouched over the running water, his dark beard slick and wet. She thought him handsome still—his face strong featured, his lips soft and promising. He rose and took two drinking skins from his saddle.” You should drink and let your horse do the same. It will be a warm day and long. You will be glad of the refreshment." He made no move to help her down, and Elise had to slip from the saddle on her own.” It is a foolish saddle for traveling," he said, as he bent down again, filling the skins with water.” But I thought you might object to a man's saddle." "A sidesaddle will suit me well enough," she said, and led her horse upstream from him, waiting until he filled the skins before letting her horse wade a few steps into the stream. When it had drunk enough—too much would not be good—she led it out and wrapped the reins around a branch so that she might drink herself. Her guide had taken a seat on a rock, and was slicing cheese and bread with a dagger. He waved a hand at the food.” Eat a little, and then we must be away again." Elise came and sat near him, finding shade beneath the trees. It was a crude meal, but her stomach was not as offended as she thought it should have been.” You might tell me your name now," she said.” I feel a bit foolish calling you Gwyden Dore." He had laid his head back against a tree, but opened his eyes and looked at her.” It is a good name, and one I am flattered to bear." She gave him a look of calculated, mild exasperation.” You may call me Alaan," he conceded.

"Not your real name, I assume... ?"He let his head rest against the tree again.” Oddly enough, it is my real name. And was my father's before/me.""Where is it we are going, Alaan?"He opened his eyes and rose to his feet suddenly.” I will be on my way to a small cell ind worse if we sit here any longer." He gathered up the makings of their meal, and they set off again, into the warm, green afternoon.

They rode along the streambed beneath white-barked trees that leaned out over the water, surprisingly large yellow flowers hanging down from the branches like elongated bells. Sun sparkled down through the leaves and shimmered on the water.

Elise brought her horse up beside Alaan's.” What are these trees?" she asked.

He glanced at the bank.” Morning trumpet.""But I've never seen them before.""They're common enough here," he said, and spurred his horse forward so that her own fell in behind.

They kept beside the streambed for a few hours, yet didn't emerge from the wood, which Elise would have said was impossible. She tried to recall their course: they'd crossed the bridge and gone west along the north shore of the lake, then turned north up Halbert's Hill, over the crest, and down into what should have been the Cloffen Wold. But now they were in a valley, traveling west again through open wood. Even if she had become turned around in the trees, they would have had to emerge into open fields, for that was all that surrounded Halbert's Hill: fields to three sides and lake to the other. Yet here they were in trees—and such trees they were! How could she have never heard of morning trumpet?

"Where are we?" she asked, spurring her horse up beside Alaan's again.

"On a path that few know," he said.” We're not lost. Don't worry.""But where are the fields? I have ridden all the wayaroun it id that hill—and more than once—and fields surround "Not completely, no." He glanced over at her, forcing the worried, thoughtful look from his face. He smiled.” If we traveled the common roads we would soon be caught. Don't you agree?" "Yes, but— "So I have taken you another way." He pointed up the stream before them.” We leave the river here." He paused a moment to let the horses drink, then lei the way up a bare slope of rock. Immediately the path narrowed again and went up, forcing her to follow behind—alone with all of her unanswered questions. Late in the afternoon Alaan took out a bow and shot a partridge, leaving his saddle only to retrieve the unlucky bird from the ground. At dusk they crested a hill, and just beneath, on the other side, made a fire in the shelter of a stooping shoulder of rock. To Elise's surprise Alaan retrieved a bag hanging by a rope from a tree, and from this he took food for them and grain for the horses. Elise was put to work plucking the feathers from their main course, a task she had never performed before. She was surprised at how much labor it took to get all the small quills. Alaan worked about their makeshift camp, surprisingly at home in the wilds for a minstrel, she thought. He performed all of his tasks with an unhurried ease, suggesting that he'd done them many times before. She watched him surreptitiously, taking guilty pleasure in the sureness of his movements, the strength and manly grace that he displayed in everything. She could tell that he thought her young and believed he knew better than she—but unlike with that ass the Prince of Innes, who clearly had held the same opinion, she was a little worried that Alaan was not wrong. At least not entirely. She'd become afraid to say anything lest she appear foolish, though why she should care for the opinion of a minstrel, she didn't know. For his part, Alaan did nothing to encourage conversation with anyone so young and lacking wisdom. When they'd met before she'd thought him a rogue, but now that they were alone here in the wilds, he seemed unaware that she was a young woman traveling without proper escort. His attention was clearly taken up with other matters. Alaan applied himself to the preparation of dinner with the same unhurried competence. It was dark when the meal was done, and they sat by the fading coals, stars filling the gaps between the leaves overhead. An owl hooted from its branch of the night, and Alaan looked up, a tiny flare of apprehension appearing on his face.

"Will the men sent to find us be able to follow these secret paths we've taken?" Elise asked. She was not used to being in another's company in silence and could bear it no more.

Alaan had stored bottles of wine in the sack he'd left here, and drank rather too freely, she thought.

"If they're close behind us they'll find them, but if not... not.""You don't seem too worried that they'll catch us here." She nodded toward the fire.

"No, they're not so close behind. It takes some time to prepare twenty or thirty men for a pursuit. And two who know the way will always travel faster than a greater number who've never seen the land before. There are places where they'll lose our tracks-—where we crossed rock or where we made our way up the river for a time—and they'll have to search about until the tracks are found again. They won't be foolish enough to ride at night beneath the trees. So we're quite safe this night. You may sleep as though you were secure in your own bed."She shifted a little at this assertion.” I have a feather bed," she said, trying to find a position of comfort on the hard ground.” Have you one of those hidden in your sack?"Alaan laughed.” Did you not save the feathers from our grouse? I'll make you a mattress of green bows and you'll think feathers as hard as wood ever after." He poured more wine into his crude cup, but she shook her head when he offered more to her. She thought his hand was growing unsteady. And did he appear to be looking at her differently, now that the first bottle had been emptied? "So tell me, Alaan ..." she said, her mouth suddenly dry.” Are you a sorcerer?" He smiled and raised his cup to his lips.” Women commonly save such flattery until the morning." "I'm not jesting. I'm not quite as young and foolish as you seem to think. There is no path through the wood that leads from Halbert's Hill. We have traveled today along streams that flow toward the hills, not away from them. And I have seen both trees and flowers that have never grown within a day's ride of Braidon Castle. Where have you taken me, sir?" Alaan opened his mouth to speak, but a small dark bird fluttered down out of the night and landed a few feet from Alaan.” Jac!" he said, and grinned in slightly drunken delight.” I know this bird!" Elise said.” It tried to steal my ring right from my finger!" "Any bright thing, Jac covets." Alaan found some nuts in his sack and spread them over the ground. The bird fell upon them greedily, glancing warily up at Elise every few seconds.” Is this your familiar, then?" Alaan laughed.” Jac thinks I am his familiar. No, he is not even a pet. A sometime traveling companion, for we have certain things in common—a liking for walnuts—and we both go about the countryside warning people of coming troubles. No one heeds either of us, however." "You've not answered my question___Are you a sorcerer, Alaan?" Jac sprang back up into the night; a flutter of wings and he was gone. Alaan didn't look to see him go but sat holding his cup on a raised knee, looking at Elise a bit too boldly.

"No, Lady Elise, I am not a sorcerer. I have no unnatural abilities save this one you have witnessed: I can find the hidden paths that others cannot. It must seem a strange thing to you, but it is no more strange than your father's ability to play music: a gift that some are given.""It is quite a bit more strange than that. But where are we?""How can I tell you? We are on a path that leads from Halbert's Hill to—well, it has several branchings and leads many places.""How do you do it? How do you find these paths?"Alaan shrugged and drank from his cup, pausing to fill it again—too soon, she thought.”

Can you raise your hand and touch your nose with a finger?""More readily than you," she said, eyeing the bottle.

"Do it," he said.” I'm quite serious."She lifted a hand and quickly touched the tip of her nose.

"How did you do that?" he asked.

"Well, I don't know—"

"That is exactly how I find the paths that others can't.""It isn't much of an answer."

"It is the only answer possible."Elise fell silent a moment, sipping at her own wine. Alaan seemed suddenly rather forthcoming, after a day of near-silence. She was not sure how she felt about that. Some part of her worried that she was entering into an unspoken bargain—he would answer her questions, and in return . . . Yet, she kept asking questions.

"Why are you involved in this matter between my family and the Renné ?""Oh, I'm not really. The Wills and the Renné could massacre each other for all it matters to me. I sometimes think the world would be better for it. I've met and spoken with members of both your clans, and I'll tell you: all that distinguishes a Wills from a Renné is the object of their hatred— otherwise the lot of you are much the same."Elise took a sip of her wine, surprised to feel a little flare of resentment.” Then why have you gone to the trouble of rescuing me?" "I regret to tell you, Lady Elise, it has almost nothing to do with you. It is the poor innocent people who will die if your families go to war again. But even more than that, it is Hafydd." "Who?" "Hafydd," he said again, with just the slightest trace of a slur.” But, of course, you know him as Eremon, the Prince of Innes's counselor." "The knight in the black robe?" "Yes, that's him." "My father warned me of him." "And well he should. I've helped you escape to foil the plans of Hafydd and to humiliate him before his allies, the Prince of Innes and your uncle, Lord Menwyn. I wish to sow the seeds of doubt in their minds." "Well, I'm glad to learn that your concern for me is so great." "Yes, I'm sure it is difficult to be a Wills and be told that you're not, in the end, the center of all things." "I live under no such delusion, and I am as cynical of the Wills as anyone—even you, perhaps. I come from a family schooled in hatred, Alaan, but I do not hate the Renné , for all that they've done to us." "And all that your family has done to them," Alaan said.” The hatred of the Renné and the Wills is not really such a great thing. It is barely an echo of hatreds that existed in the past." He leaned forward a little.” Have you ever noticed how the minstrels and storytellers go about the countryside singing of all the wrongs that have been done? The same minstrels who come to Braidon Castle and sing of the evils done you by the Renné will then travel to Castle Renné and sing of the injuries the Wills have done to them. And have you watched the hatred kindle as people listen to these songs? The minstrels are like carriers of disease, going from place to place, bearing the plague of hatred with them, spreading it from one village to the next to the next until the whole land is infected." Kis cup traveled a fairly steady course to his lips again, and when it descended a few jewels of wine hung in his beard.

"But you are a minstrel, or you pose as one.""Oh, I am at times, but I'm not a minstrel of hatred, as I call them. I sing of love, most often, and mystery. Sometimes my songs tell stories with strange twists and odd endings. But I never sing of the wrongs done by men.""What of all the wrongs done in love?"He looked very directly at her.” You are, on occasion, surprisingly sage for one so young. What is your age?""I am twenty years."

"Going on thirty-seven."

This near-compliment made her feel awkward suddenly.” Why does this knight call himself Eremon," she asked quickly, "if his name is Hafydd?""Because he was reborn, or so he believes." Alaan set his empty cup down on the ground and stood, more steadily than she would have predicted.” It is time for sleep. We rise with the sun, and tomorrow will be a more difficult day."