— 45 —

The late-summer sky overhead was blue as Zengati lapis the day Tamír led her army forth from Atyion. In the vineyards that lined the road women were cutting heavy bunches of grapes into deep baskets. In the distant meadows hundred of fine young foals gamboled among the vast herds, and the fields of grain shone like gold.

Tharin rode beside her, not yet ready to bid her farewell.

Behind them ranks of men-at-arms, archers, and mounted fighters marched under her banner and those of more than a dozen noble houses from Ilear to Erind.

Others, who had been levied from the towns and farms, had only knives, sickles, or cudgels, but they held themselves as proudly as the lords who led them.

The Companions all wore long blue tabards with her coat of arms emblazoned on their chests, and the baldric of her house.

Lutha and Barieus rode proudly, if a bit uncomfortably, talking happily with Una, who’d returned the day before with several regiments from Ylani.

Mahti rode with the wizards for now, with his oo’lu across his back in place of a sword. Word of their strange guide had spread quickly, soldiers’ gossip being what it was. Word of their queen’s sudden affection for the hill folk spread like wildfire. There was muttering, but their lords and captains kept everyone in line.

At midafternoon Mahti pointed inland toward the mountains. “We go that way.”

Tamír shaded her eyes. There was no road, only rolling fields, meadows, and wooded foothills beyond.

“I don’t see any pass,” said Ki.

“I know way,” Mahti insisted.

“Very well, then. We’ll go west.” Tamír reined in to make her farewells to Tharin.

He gave her a sad smile as they clasped hands. “This time it’s you riding away, rather than me.”

“I remember how that felt, watching you and Father leave. We’ll have some good tales to tell when we meet again.”

“May you hold the Sword of Ghërilain before the snow flies.” Raising his sword, he shouted, “For Skala and Tamír!”

The army took up the cheer, the words rolling back down the long line like a tide.

With a final wave, Tharin and his escort wheeled their horses and galloped back toward Atyion.

Tamír watched him go, then fixed her gaze on the mountains.

The following day brought them to the foothills, and the next to the forests that covered the foot of the range.

Late that afternoon, Mahti pointed out a game trail leading through a thick patch of wild currant bushes.

“Is that the start of your secret road?” asked Tamír.

“Soon come to,” Mahti replied. He spoke rapidly to Arkoniel.

“We follow this trail for a day, then follow a stream up to a waterfall,” Arkoniel told her. “The hidden trail starts just beyond it. He says the way is easier after that. We’ll reach the first hill folk village within two days.”

“I didn’t realize there were any living so close.”

“I not know these Retha’noi, but they see my oo’lu and know I be witch.” He spoke to Arkoniel again, evidently wanting to be certain that Tamír understood what he said clearly.

Arkoniel listened, his face going very serious. “The moment you see any hill folk you must call an immediate halt and stay still. He’ll go ahead and speak with them on our behalf. Otherwise, they’re likely to attack.”

Mahti disappeared into the underbrush for a moment. When he returned, he was wearing his own clothing and the animal-tooth necklace and bracelets. Climbing back onto his horse, he nodded to Tamír. “Now we go.”

The forest closed in around them, tall firs that scented the air and choked out the undergrowth. They saw no one that day or the next. The terrain grew steeper, and the wooded hillsides were strewn with large rocks. Mahti led them to the stream he’d spoken of and reached the small waterfall that afternoon. The faint game track they’d been following seemed to end at the pool beneath it.

“Good water,” Mahti told them.

Tamír called a halt, then dismounted with the others to fill her waterskin.

Mahti drank, then took his oo’lu from its sling and began to play. It was a short, hooting song, but when he was done Tamír saw a well-worn path leading away from the pool’s edge that had not been there before. The trees on either side were marked with faded handprints like the markings she’d seen around Lhel’s abandoned camp.

“Come!” Mahti set off briskly up the new trail. “You be in Retha’noi place. Keep promise.”

As they made camp that night Arkoniel joined Tamír and the others around their fire.

“I’ve just spoken with Lyan. Korin’s fleet tried to land at Ero. Tharin had word from the wizards and coastal lookouts that they were making for the port, and Illardi was waiting for them, with the wizards. He used the few ships you had there, setting them ablaze to trap Korin’s ships. The flames spread, and our wizards used their own spells to help things along. All the enemy vessels were destroyed or captured.”

“That’s very good news!” Tamír exclaimed. “But no word of an attack by land?”

“Nevus is bringing a sizable army south. Tharin’s already heading out to meet him.”

“Sakor bring him luck,” Ki said, casting a stick onto the fire.

Lying in her blankets that night, watching the branches sway against the stars, Tamír sent up a silent prayer of her own for Tharin, hoping that he wouldn’t be taken from her, too.

The next day the way grew steeper, and there was still no sign of a village. Just before midday, however, Mahti raised a hand to halt the others.

“There.” He pointed up at a jumble of fallen stones on the right.

Tamír signaled a halt. It took a moment to make out the man squatting on the highest rock. He was staring straight back at her and had an oo’lu pressed to his lips.

Mahti raised his own horn over his head and waited. After a moment the other man lowered his and shouted something to him.

“You stay,” Mahti told her, then climbed nimbly up the rocks to join the stranger.

“We’re not alone,” Ki whispered.

“I see them.” At least a dozen more Retha’noi were visible, watching them from either side of the divide. Some had bows, others long horns like Mahti’s.

No one moved. Tamír clutched her reins, listening to the low murmur of the two witches talking. Now and then the stranger’s voice rose angrily, but presently he and Mahti climbed down from the rocks and stood on the trail.

“He talk to you and oreskiri,” Mahti called out to her. “Others stay.”

“I don’t like this,” Ki muttered.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be with her,” Arkoniel told him.

Tamír dismounted and gave her reins to Ki, then unbuckled her sword belt and handed that to him, too.

She and Arkoniel walked together toward the witches, hands outstretched to show they were unarmed.

This man was older than Mahti and missing most of his teeth. His witch marks showed clearly on his skin, warning that he had some sort of spell in place.

“This Sheksu,” Mahti informed her. “I tell him you come to bring peace. He ask how.”

“Arkoniel, tell him who I am, and that I will tell my people to stop their persecution, as long as the Retha’noi are peaceful toward us. Tell him we only wish to pass safely through his valley. We do not come to conquer or spy.”

Arkoniel relayed this, and Sheksu asked a sharp question.

“He asks why he should believe a southlander girl who hasn’t even known a man yet.”

“How did he know that?” Tamír hissed, trying to cover her surprise. “Tell him I will swear by all my gods.”

“I don’t think that will convince him. Prick your finger and offer him a drop of blood. That will be proof that you aren’t trying to hide anything from him. Use this.” He took Lhel’s needle from his purse.

Tamír pricked her forefinger and held it out to Sheksu. The witch caught the droplet and rubbed it between his thumb and finger. He shot a surprised look at Mahti and asked him something.

“He said you have two shadows,” Arkoniel murmured.

“Brother?”

“Yes.”

Sheksu and Mahti spoke again.

“He’s explaining about Lhel,” Arkoniel whispered.

“He say to see mark,” Mahti said at last.

“The scar? I’ll have to take off my armor. Tell him I need his word that this is not a trick.”

“He say no trick, by Mother.”

“Very well, then. Arkoniel, can you help me?”

The wizard managed to get one side of her cuirass undone and held it while she pulled off her tabard.

“What the hell are you doing?” Ki called, starting forward.

Sheksu raised a hand at Ki.

“Ki, stop! Stay where you are,” Arkoniel ordered.

“Do as he says,” Tamír told him calmly.

Ki stayed put, scowling. Behind him, the other Companions remained tense and alert.

Tamír took off her hauberk and pulled down the neck of the padded shirt and the linen undershirt underneath to show Sheksu the scar between her breasts. He ran a finger over the faded white stitch marks, then looked deeply into her eyes. He smelled of grease and rotten teeth, but his black eyes were sharp as a hawk’s and just as wary.

“Tell him that Lhel helped me so that our people could make peace,” Tamír said.

Sheksu stepped back, still eyeing her closely.

“It might help if Brother made an appearance,” Arkoniel whispered.

“You know I can’t make him come and go as I please—”

But suddenly Brother was there. It was only for an instant, long enough for him to let out a low, mocking hiss that stood the hair up on her neck and arms; but for that instant she thought she felt another presence with him, and the scent of freshly crushed leaves lingered on the air. She looked around quickly, hoping for a glimpse of Lhel, but there was only the feeling of her, and the scent.

Sheksu appeared satisfied as he spoke to Mahti and Arkoniel.

“He believes you, because no Orëska wizard could make that kind of magic,” said Arkoniel. “Brother just did you a great service.”

“Not Brother. Lhel,” she replied softly. “I wonder if he saw her.”

“He see,” Mahti told her. “She speak for you.”

Sheksu spoke to Mahti again, gesturing at his people still standing overhead, then down the trail in the direction they meant to go.

“He say you can pass with your people, but you must go quick,” Mahti explained. “He will send song about you to next village and they send to next. He say he not—” He frowned and looked to Arkoniel to clarify.

“You’ve been granted safe passage, and Sheksu will relay your story on, but he can’t promise you will be welcome, only that he has spoken for you.”

Sheksu said something else and Arkoniel bowed to him. “He was impressed that you offered your blood, and by what he read from it. He says you have favor with his goddess. If you keep your word, you should be safe.”

“I am honored by his trust.” She took a gold sester from her purse and presented it to him. The coin was stamped with Illior’s crescent moon and the flame of Sakor. “Tell him that these are the symbols of my people. Tell him that I call him friend.”

Sheksu accepted the coin and rubbed it between his fingers, then said something that sounded friendly.

“He is impressed,” Arkoniel murmured. “Gold is very scarce here, and highly prized.”

In return Sheksu gave her one of his bracelets, made with the teeth and claws of a bear.

“It will give you strength against your enemies and mark you as a friend of the hill folk,” Arkoniel interpreted.

“Tell him I am honored to wear it.”

Sheksu bade her farewell and quickly disappeared among the rocks.

“Go quick now,” Mahti told her.

Tamír put her armor back on and strode back to the Companions.

“That seemed to go well,” Ki murmured, handing her sword back to her.

“We’re not over the mountains yet.”