Fortress In The Eye Of Time, page 22
Tristen followed; Idrys and Uwen would have, but Cefwyn turned and shouted, ordering their separate guards back. Their lead widened until they two rode alone with the escort far too distant to hear.
?Do not,? Cefwyn said, ?ever confess to any man what you have just told me.?
?Yes, sir.?
They rode in silence a time. ?I have never lied to you,? Cefwyn said at last, and quietly. ?At least that I can recall. —Do you know who I am, Tristen? Do you really understand??
?You are the King?s son,? Tristen said, looking at him, ?of Ylesuin.?
?Of In?reddrin, King of Ylesuin, son, yes, his heir; and of Amefel, by His Majesty?s grace, his viceroy in Henas?amef and over Amefel and its uneasy borders.? Cefwyn looked down his nose at him, a narrow stare.
?Most men—and women, oh, especially the women—have ambitions to share that grace. I have a vast multitude of devoted followers, and from none but a handful of my guard would I take untasted wine. What say you, Tristen??
?Of untasted wine??
?Poison. Poison, man. Poison in the cup, a knife in the dark. I defend this cursed tedious border against old resentments, and the Amefin, in particular those Amefin who are opposed to the Aswyddim on account of their burdensome taxes, would prefer another heir, since me they cannot manage, and they have discovered that. Now with nine heads on Henas?amef?s gates, the Elwynim sue for peace and the Regent offers me his daughter. And the Amefin like that well, save Heryn Aswydd and his lovely and well-traveled sisters, who like that least of all.? He lifted his hand to the east, where Henas?amef itself showed small and remote, now, falling behind them. ?And should you lack for suspect affections or affiliations, or even bedmates, why, my dear sir, consider Guelemara. The capital. My father, my kith and kin, another pack of wolves, but with far better and courtly graces. The capital is vastly more civilized than here. They poison only fine vintages. You?ve been treated far more shabbily, having experienced Henas?amef?s rough hospitality.?
?I find it kind,? Tristen said, ?mostly.?
?You are quite mad, you know.?
?Most have been kind to me.?
?Mad, I say.?
?I think I am not, sir, please you.?
Cefwyn?s hand moved to a medallion he had at his throat, like Emuin?s. ?Do you not suffer midnight impulses to revenge? Do you not resent what certain folk did to you? Do you not think remotely of serving them in kind?? ?Who, sir??
?A man has a right—? Cefwyn?s words tumbled one over the other in a passion and fell to a halt. ?Sir??
?Don?t look at me like that! I am not Emuin. Don?t look to me for answers, damn you, don?t you dare look to me for answers! I?m no arbiter of virtue! You?ll not trap me in that!?
?Emuin said you were a good man. But he said not to copy what you did.?
Cefwyn?s mouth opened. And shut. Cefwyn stared at him.
?I ought not to have said that,? Tristen said. ?Ought I??
?Gods. You will terrify the court.?
He was terrified, too. And lost. Cefwyn used words very cleverly, very quickly turning them from the course Tristen thought they would take.
?Or is such your humor?? Cefwyn asked.
?What, sir??
?Cry you mercy, Tristen. I have never met an honest man.?
?You confuse me,? Tristen said. He felt cold, despite the sun. ?I don?t understand, sir, I fear I don?t.?
?I don?t ask that you understand,? Cefwyn said, ?only so you don?t ask too much of me. Emuin did tell you the truth.?
The sun climbed the sky, and far past the view of the town, even beyond the reach of the fields, they took a westward road that ran up among low hills. The guard had long since swept them up again within their ranks and Idrys rode with a small number out to the fore, sometimes entirely out of sight as the road bent back and forth.
But it seemed the land declined, then, and in very little time the hills gave way to meadow, where a breeze that had made the day a little chill grew warmer and stronger, and lifted the banners and pennons.
They kept a moderate pace over an hour or so, between pausing to rest the horses. One such rest, as the sun passed its zenith had bees buzzing about a stand of white and pink flowers, and the horses cropping grass and the blooms of meadow thistles. Their company disposed themselves on a grassy slope and shared out a portion of the food they had brought.
It was wonderful, in Tristen?s mind: he sat on the grass next to Cefwyn and Idrys and Uwen, and felt a pleasant camaraderie with these rough soldiers—a joking exchange which Cefwyn and all the rest seemed to find easy, and in which the respect men had to pay Cefwyn seemed quickly to fall by the wayside. There was laughter, there was nudging of elbows at what might be cruel remarks, but the object of them rolled right off a stone, feigning mortal injury, and got up again laughing. Tristen was entranced, thinking through the way these men joked with one another, laughter a little cruel, but not wicked: he understood enough of their game to see where it was going, involving a flask that emptied before its owner regained it; there was mock battle, the man laughed, and Tristen thought that if he were so approached, he could laugh, too. It was good not to be on the outside watching from a distance, and Cefwyn laughed—even Idrys looked amused.
It was good not to be protected into safe silence. He wished the men would play jokes on him. He had not understood jokes before, not this sort. Mauryl had had little laughter in him.
But he saw Cefwyn easier, saw Uwen grinning from ear to ear—even Idrys flashed half a grin. He hadn?t known the man had another expression; and he doubted it after he had seen it—but it made him know other things about the man.
Afterward, though, when they were mounting up again, Cefwyn said they should go warily, and Uwen said he should stay close, that thereafter they were crossing through more chancy territory. There was a woods ahead, which the King?s men had wanted to cut down, but Heryn Lord Aswydd, as Tristen gathered Uwen meant by naming the Duke of Amefel, had lodged strong protest, because of the hunting and because of the woodcutters of Emwy village and others, and had undertaken to keep the law there himself.
?So,? Tristen said, ?can the Duke of Amefel not find the sheep??
And Idrys said, ?Well asked.?
Cefwyn, however, looked not at all happy with the question, so he guessed he had wandered into a matter of contention between them, and he was well aware that Idrys had begged Cefwyn to choose some other direction.
But Cefwyn, unlike boys growing up with wizards, was a prince and did what he pleased, when he pleased, and what he pleased was to ride in this direction. So Tristen thought, and began to worry- Still the soldiers seemed to take the news of their direction as a matter of course, and Idrys had almost laughed at noon. It seemed, at least, the men felt confident of accomplishing what Cefwyn wished at Emwy village, whether that was finding lost sheep, or Elwynim, or outlaws.
He thought about it as they rode, and patted Gery?s neck and wondered if the horses thought at all about danger: it seemed to him, one of those things he knew along with riding, that he might rely on Gery?s sense of things, and on all the horses to be on the watch for danger of a sort horses understood.
In late afternoon they had woods in sight on their left hand, and the land grew rougher, less of meadows and more of stony heights, on which forest grew.
They traveled until forest stretched across their path. The woods was not Marna, Tristen judged: it was green. But it was very likely part of that forest that lay on Amefel?s side of the Lenfialim, a thick and deep looking forest all the same, reminding him of hunger and long walking.
The men talked about the river lying close.
?Is it the Lenfialim?? he asked Uwen.
?Aye,? Uwen said. ?And Emwys-brook. And Lewen-brook?s not far.
Not a good place we?ve brushed by, the last hour and more, m?lord.?
?Because of the woods? Or because of the Elwynim??
Uwen did not answer him at once. ?Ghosts,? Uwen said finally, which was a Word of death and grief and anger. It disturbed him. He looked at the trees on either hand as they rode into that green shade, and so did the men, who said very little, and seemed anxious.
But he looked to the green branches, even hoping to see a feathery brown lump somewhere perched on a limb. Since their excursion planned to stay a night near this wooded place, he even hoped for Owl to find him—if Owl would haunt any place outside Marna, such a place as this seemed exactly what Owl would favor. The whispering leaves sounded of home to him. It made him think of standing on the parapet at Ynefel and listening to the trees in the wind. And he thought it would be a very good thing if he could find Owl and bring him back to
Henas?amef. But the men around him looked not to be comforted at all by what they saw or heard.
?It?s not so dark as Marna,? he said, to make Uwen feel safer. ?Few places would be,? Uwen said, and made a sign folk made when they grew frightened. So he did not think he dared say more than that.
But in a little more riding, the track they followed, leaf-strewn and hardly more substantial than the Road he had followed through Marna, brought them through a thinning screen of trees and brush, into yet another broad valley, with fair grasslands and fields and hills open to the afternoon sun.
?This is Arys-Emwy,? Uwen said. ?They?re mostly shepherd-folk.?
So they were still in Amefel, Tristen decided. He remembered the pale lines on the map. He saw the Name in his memory. Sheep had left their tracks about the meadow and on the road, although they saw none grazing.
They came on stone-fenced fields beyond the next hill, and crops growing, and further on they could see the thatched roofs of a village—Emwy village, Uwen said, which seemed a pleasant place. It had no outer walls, just a collection of tow stone fences. The buildings were gray stone, two with slate roofs and a number with thatch. Shutters were open in most of the houses, and many of the doors likewise were open. Men and women were working in the fields closest to the village, and thin white smoke was going up from a few of the chimneys.
Folk stopped work as they saw what was riding down their road, folk came in from the fields, and dogs ran and barked alongside the horses, as slowly the people gathered.
?Hold,? Cefwyn said, and the column halted; he gave some order to Idrys about searching the houses, and Idrys and the men around him, with none of the banner-carriers, went riding off quickly into the single street of the village.
?Where are the young men?? Cefwyn asked of the silent villagers, who leaned on hoes and gathered behind their stone fences. And they were all old, or young women or children.
?Answer the Prince!? a man of the guard said, and lowered his spear toward the people.
?Off wi? they sheep,? an old man said. ?Off seekin? after they sheep, m?lord.?
?Who is the head man, here??
?Auld Syes. She is, m?lords.? The man nodded toward the village, and all the people pointed the same way.
Cefwyn drew his horse about and bade them ride on toward the village itself, where Idrys and his men going in advance of them had turned out a number of villagers from their houses, a number of children, Tristen saw. Dogs were barking.
?This ain?t good,? Uwen said. ?If village lads is off searching for any sheep, they should have the dogs along. They?re lyin?, m?lord.?
What Uwen said to him echoed in Tristen?s head as they rode up on the village and into its street. There were two girls—a number of children, many very young. There were old folk. Cefwyn?s men, those afoot, who had been searching, and others sitting on their horses, were looking this way and that, hands on weapons. Idrys came riding slowly closer to them.
?Not a one of the youths on the rolls,? Idrys said, out of some far distance. ?So much for Heryn?s law-keeping.?
Tristen drew a sharp, keen breath, feeling a shiver in the air. Dust moved aloud the street as a stray gust of wind blew toward them. The gust gathered bits of straw, whipped a frame of dyed yarn standing by a doorway, and one woman, one old woman was in that doorway. ?Are you Auld Syes?? the sergeant asked.
?I am,? the old woman said, and lifted a bony arm, pointing straight at Cefwyn. ?Marhanen! Bloody Marhanen! I see blood on the earth!
Blood to cleanse the land!? The wind danced around her rough-spun skirts, it skirled through the tassels of her gray shawl and the knots of her grayer hair. She wore necklaces not of jewels but of plain brown stones and knots of straw. She wore bracelets of knotted leather. Tristen looked at this woman, and the woman looked at him. She feared him. He knew that look. She stretched out her arm at him and pointed a finger, and cried a Word without a sound; and now in dreadful slowness Cefwyn?s men were making a hedge of their weapons.
The wind wrapped around and around the old woman, winding her skirts and shawl about her until she was a brown and gray bundle in the midst of the dust.
The Word was still there. He couldn?t hear it. People were screaming and running and Gery was plunging and snorting under him, crazed, as the wind whipped away from them, taking straw and dust with it, still blowing in and out among the houses, still whipping at the skeins of yarn. The frame fell over on the woman, covering her in hanks of yarn.
Dogs were growling and barking, but some had run away. A handful of old men and women and a boy with one foot all stood where they had, and Cefwyn was shouting at the riders—?Up the lane! Catch one!?
—Mauryl?s damnable tinkering, the Wind was saying, with a hundred voices. Mauryl?s meddling with the elements. Unwise. He would never take advice.
—Who are you? Tristen asked it, and thought of Emuin—it was like that gray place. But Gery was with him, Gery refused to go further, shied back and turned.
?Tristen!? Cefwyn was shouting at him, and the wind whipped about, blinded him with bits of straw that flew and stung. Gery jolted so strongly forward he hit the cantle, and he fought to hold her as old women hauled the sputtering woman out from under the hanks of yarn and young women bolted down the lane between the houses and fled.
?She—? Tristen began, but had no words to say what the wind had said to him—it was all fading in his mind the way dreams faded, except it had spoken of Mauryl, and home.
?M?lord Prince,? Idrys said, sword in hand, ?this is no longer a ride for pleasure. Take an escort. Ride out. Now!?
Cefwyn was incensed. ?Damn it! I?ll not be chased by a pot-wizard and a gust of wind!? Cefwyn?s horse was fighting the rein and he brought the animal full about in the midst of them. ?She?s a foolish old woman!?
?Lost sheep be damned,? Idrys shouted at him. ?It was a lure, m?lord Prince! They wished nothing but to draw you here. Your life is in danger.
No one dragged their sons across the river. They?ve gone, they?ve taken to your enemies. —No, Your Highness!? Cefwyn had gone aside from the road, and Idrys went so far as to ride in front of his horse. ?Go up in those hills and you?ll be feathered like a goose. That?s their purpose.
That?s what they want!?
?Do not you dispute my decisions, sir! The women know where to go!?
?Straight to their brothers and husbands!? Idrys said. ?Give over, m?lord Prince. This profits no one but your enemies! If there?s aught to learn, the patrol I?ve sent will find it!?
The wind came near them. The air seemed to buzz and hum like insects on a lazy day. Uwen caught Gery?s rein, and Cefwyn was still disputing Idrys, but Idrys seemed then to prevail.
Two riders who had left them were still chasing across the fields, jumping fences, but the banner-bearers and the rest of the troop gathered around Cefwyn.
They were alone in the village, then, with the old villagers and the lame boy and the dazed old woman staring at them.
?Where are your men?? Cefwyn asked again, and had a confused babble of pointing, and swearing, oh, indeed they were up with the sheep.
?The lost sheep?? Cefwyn shouted at them. ?The sheep that strayed, that you complained of? Or was I ever to see that message? Was it to Heryn Aswydd you sent? And what was it to say to him? Treason? Do we speak of Elwynim, and not of sheep at all??
The villagers were afraid. Tristen was afraid. The air still seemed to him to be alive with threat. The elderly villagers kept protesting their innocence. But the air tingled. The light was strange.
?Uwen Lewen?s-son,? Cefwyn said then, ?take your charge and ride as fast as the horses can bear. Tell them at Henas?amef we?ve stayed in this village asking questions, and we?ll hold these people under guard until the patrol comes back with you. —Take Tristen with you!?
?Aye, Your Highness.? Uwen turned his horse, reached out, leaning for Gery?s rein, and drew Gery about with him perforce. ?No!? Tristen said, fighting him for the rein.
?M?lord,? Uwen said, and would not give the rein up as Gery jerked and shook her head, hurt, Tristen saw, and abandoned his attempt to hold her back. ?We?re ridin? for help for the prince, m?lord! His Highness don?t need no argument. Come on!?
Gery went, fighting a step more, and then Uwen let go the rein and expected him to follow. He knew that Uwen had no time to spare for his fear. He steered Gery with his knee as Gery joined Uwen?s horse in a brisk gait, back along the road.
?Prince Cefwyn will manage,? Uwen said. ?Unarmed and unschooled ye ain?t much help, m?lord. We?re bound to do what we?re told, ride to the other side of that damned woods, and fast back as we can.? ?What are they looking for??
?Just you leave the village to His Highness!?? Uwen said to him. ?An? stay wi? me, m?lord. We got to get us past them trees. If we start summat from cover up there in the rocks, that woods is all one woods, clear to the other end of Lanfarnesse, and full of trails. —Can ye stay a fast ride??
?Yes,? Tristen answered. His breath was coming hard. Idrys had spoken of enemies, and that word he did know—Mauryl had had enemies.
The Shadows were enemies, and the forest seemed the most apt place for them to hide. He rode with Uwen, and glanced back as two more of the guard came riding breakneck down the road and their own horses picked up pace to match.
?Hawith, Jeony,? Uwen said, waving his arm toward the road and the woods ahead. ?Get yerself out to the fore of us, we got a m?lord to get through here.? He took off his helm as they jounced knee to knee and offered it to Tristen across the gap. ?Put that on, m?lord. No disputing me on this.?
