Though I had willed Toross and his kinswomen to be out of
Ithkrypt, their going was not so easily accomplished, for Toross
still kept to his bed. Nor could I suggest that he be taken away by
litter. But I did avoid his chamber. That I had garnered the ill
will of Islaugha and Yngilda went without saying. Luckily there
were duties enough to keep me out of their way.
In riding skirt, with a packet of cheese and bread for my
nooning, I rode with an armsman in the morning, inspecting the
fields; visiting our outposts in the hills. I wore mail now and
that sword my uncle had given me, and none raised their voices to
say such a guise did not become me, for these were times when each
turned hand to what must be done.
A sickness had come upon us without warning, bringing fever and
chills and deep, racking coughs. By some favor of the Flame I
escaped the worst of this, and so into my hands came more and more
authority. For Dame Math was one of the early stricken. And, while
she also left her bed among the first, she was plainly weakened,
though she attended to her duties with little care for herself.
Marshal Dagale was also among the sick, and during those days
his men turned to me for orders. We manned the lookout posts as
best we might and tried also to get in the crops. It was a hard
season, for there was much to be done and few on their feet for the
doing of it. Days and nights were lost to me in a general sea of
weariness from which there was no rest
All who could labor, did. Even the little children dropped seeds
into the waiting furrows left by plows their mothers guided. But we
could only do so much, planting less than the year before. By
midsummer day, instead of celebrating by a feast, I rather selected
those who must leave us for Norsdale and saw them off, mainly
afoot, for we could not spare mounts.
Toross did not go with them. His hurt had mended now enough so
he could get about, and I hoped he would have the courtesy to
leave. But he did not. Rather he fell into companionship with
Dagale, acting as his second in command when the Marshal once again
took up his duties.
I was never happy during those weeks. Though Toross did not seek
me out, yet I felt his eyes ever upon me, his will like an
invisible cord striving to draw me as he wished. I could only hope
that my will to resist was as strong. I liked Toross for himself,
as I had from our first meeting. In those days he had had a gaiety
of temper that was in contrast to the somber life I had always
known. He was gentle and considerate and talked amusingly. His face
was comely, and he knew well how to make himself agreeable in
company. I had seen the eyes of the maids in the household follow
him and had also felt his charm.
His wound had sobered him somewhat. Still he lightened our
hearts in those days, and I did not deny that he had much to give.
But his quiet confidence that I would go to him, yield — that I
could not understand.
I know that dalesmen look upon women as possessions, perhaps to
be wooed and indulged for a season, and then, once won, to be a
part of the household like hawk, hound, or horse. We are bartered
by our kin for our dowry rights, for alliances between dales. And
in such matters we have no voice to oppose what we may fear or
hate.
For a woman to set herself up in opposition to any alliance made
for her is to suggest she may have some commerce with a dark power.
And if accused of that she can be in dire danger, even from those
to whom she has the closest blood ties. But this does not make it
an easy portion to swallow.
My way had been relatively easy in such matters — until now.
First, Dame Math was a woman of presence and spirit, one of the
Dames who had the respect of men and a place of her own in the
dales. Her brother had made her the head of his household and
deferred to her, taking her counsel in many matters.
Being discreet, she had worked within the frame of custom, not
in open opposition to it. She had seen to it that I learned much
that was forbidden or deemed unnecessary for most maids. I could
read and write, having been tutored at the House of Dames. And I
had not been set to small tasks elsewhere when she and Lord Cyart
conferred about important matters, but had been encouraged to
listen. Dame Math sometimes thereafter quizzed me as to the
decision I might have made on this matter or that, always
impressing on me that such knowledge was needful for a lady of a
keep.
My uncle had taken obedience to his decrees as his right, but in
addition he had often explained the reason for them, not given
orders only, though he had a hasty temper and could be sharp. But
as I grew older, he asked my will in small matters, and allowed me
to have it.
I knew that there was speculation among the dalesmen concerning
me. I had heritage from my father, but not in land, as he was
second son and half-brother to Cyart. Cyart could, by custom, name
me heir, even though I was a girl, but the choice could also fall
on Toross because of his sex.
Until the southland had been overrun, Toross had been heir in
the direct line to his father's dale. Now he was as lacking in
lordship as any second or third son. And his continued assumption
that I would come to him was, a small nagging doubt told me,
perhaps not because he was moon-struck with my person (for I had no
such vanity) but that he might so have a double claim upon Cyart as
heir-to-be.
Perhaps I did him wrong in that, but that this thought moved in
Islaugha I am sure. It made her try to veil her dislike of me and
strive rather to throw us together and foster a closer
relationship. I began to feel much as a hare coursed by two hounds
during those summer days, and clung closer and closer to duties I
could use as a screen.
The leaving of the first refugee party at midsummer was a
relief, though not as great a one as I had hoped for. I had an
additional worry concerning Dame Math. Though she kept to her
tasks, I was well aware that she tired very easily; that beneath
her coif her face grew thinner, her skin more transparent She often
kept her hands clasped tight about her prayer hoops now, and, in
spite of that tight grip, her fingers shook in a way she could not
control.
I spent all the time I could with her, between us a question
that neither of us, I believe, wanted to ask or answer. But she
talked more than she had in all the years before, as if she had a
very short time left in which to impart to me so much. The lore of
healing and herbs I already knew a little, since that had been a
part of her lessons since my childhood. Besides that she spoke of
other things, some of it strange hearing, and so I learned much of
what perhaps was seldom shared between one generation and the
next.
That we lived in a haunted land we all knew, for a person need
only turn head from one side to another to sight some remnant of
the Old Ones. There were old dangers that could be stirred into
life by the unwary — that, too, all knew. Children were warned
against straying—venturing into places where there was an odd
stillness, more like waiting than abandonment.
I was drawn into the edge of a secret that was not of my
seeking, nor of Dame Math's save that duty, by which she ordered
her life, urged it on her. The Flame to which the Dames gave homage
was not of the Power as the Old Ones knew it. And at most times
those who professed the Flame shunned what lay in the hills,
invoking their own source of Power against the alien one. But it
seemed that even one of the House of Dames could be driven in times
of stress to seek aid elsewhere.
She came to me carry one morning, her poor face even more worn
and haggard as she stood plucking nervously at her prayer hoops,
gazing over my head at the wall as if she did not want to meet my
eyes.
"Joisan, all is not well with Cyart — "
"You have had a message?" I wondered why I had not heard the way
horn. In those days such were always used between friend and friend
on the approach to any keep.
"None by word of mouth, or in runes," she answered slowly. "I
have it here." She allowed the hoops to dangle from her belt-chain
and lifted her thin fingers to smooth the band across her
forehead.
"A dream?" Did Math share that strange heritage?
"Not as clear as a dream. But I know ill has come to him,
somewhere, somehow. I would go to the moon-well — "
"It is not night, and neither is it the time of the full moon,"
I reminded her.
"But water from that well can be used — Joisan, this I must do.
But — but I do not think I can go alone — that far — "
She swayed and put her hand to the wall to steady herself. I
hurried to her, and her weight came against me so I had trouble
guiding her to a stool.
"I must go — I must!" Her voice rose, and there was in it an
undercurrent of alarm that frightened me. When one who has always
been rock-firm becomes unstable, it is as if the very walls are
about to topple.
"You shall. Can you ride?"
There were beads of moisture showing on her upper lip. Looking
at her straightly in that moment I saw that Dame Math had become an
old woman. As if overnight all the weight of years had crushed down
upon her, which was as frightening as her unsteadiness.
Some of her former determination stiffened her shoulders,
brought her head upright again.
"I must. Get me one of the ponies, Joisan." Leaning on me
heavily, she came out into the courtyard, and I sent a stable boy
running for a pony: those placid, ambling beasts we kept mainly for
the carrying of supplies. By the time he returned, Dame Math was as
one who has sipped a reviving cordial. She mounted without too much
difficulty, and I led the pony across the fields to that very well
where I had once slipped in the nighttime to ask a question of my
own.
If any marked our going, they left us alone. The hour was early
enough so that I think most were still at their morning food. As I
tramped beside the pony, I felt the punch of hunger at my own
middle.
"Cyart — " Dame Math's voice was hardly above a whisper, yet it
was as if she called and hoped to have an answer to her calling. I
had never thought much about the tie between those two, but the
ring of that name, uttered in her voice, told me much at that hour.
For all their outward matter-of-fact dealing with each other there
was deep feeling too.
We came to the well. When I had been there at night before, I
had not seen clearly those traces by which others had often times
sought out a sign of the Power that was said to be there. There
were well-worn stones rimming in the well, and beyond those,
bushes. To the bushes things were tied. Some were merely scraps of
ribbon, color lost through the action of wind and weather. Others
were crudely fashioned of straw or twig—manikins or stick horses,
sheep — all twirling and bobbling within sight of the water,
perhaps set there to signify the desire of the petitioners.
I helped Dame Math from the pony's back, guiding her forward a
step or two until she pulled free from my aid and walked as might
one who needed no help. With her goal in sight, a semblance of
strength flowed back into her.
From a deep skirt pocket she brought forth a bowl no larger than
could be fitted into the hollow of her hand. It was of silver,
well-burnished. And I remembered that silver was supposed to be the
favorite metal of the Old Ones, just as opals, pearls, jade, and
amber were their jewels.
She gestured me to stand beside her and pointed to a plant that
grew at the lip of the well itself. It had wide leaves of dark
green veined with white, and I did not remember ever seeing its
like before.
"Take a leaf," she told me, "and with it dip to fill this
bowl."
The leaf, pinched, gave forth a pleasant aroma, and it seemed to
twist almost of its own will into a cup, so I might spoon water
into the bowl. The water in the well was very high, its surface
only a little below the level of its stone rim. Three times did I
dip and pour before she said, "Enough!"
She held the bowl between her hands and raised it, blowing
gently on the liquid within so it was riffled by her breath.
"It is not water of the Ninth Wave, which is the best of all for
this purpose, but it will do."
She ceased to puff, and the water was smooth. Over it she gave
me one of those compelling looks that had always brought my
obedience.
"Think of Cyart! Hold him as a picture in your mind."
I tried to draw a mind picture of my uncle as last I had looked
upon him, when he had drunk the stirrup cup of my pouring before
riding south. I was surprised that the months between had dulled my
memory so quickly, because I found it hard to recall him with any
clarity. Yet I had known him all my life long.
"There is that about you" — Dame Math looked at me narrowly —
"which gainsays this. What do you have on you, Joisan, which
obstructs the Power?"
What did I have about me? My hand went to my bosom where the crystal gryphon lay in
hiding. Reluctantly, urged to this by the stern eyes of Dame Math,
I brought forth the globe.
"Hang it over there!"
Such was her authority that I obeyed her, looping the chain near
one of those straw people lashed to a branch. She watched and then
turned her gaze again to the bowl.
"Think of Cyart!" she demanded once again.
Now it was as if a door opened and I could see him, clear in
every detail.
"Brother!" I heard Dame Math cry out. Then there were no more
words, only a desolate sound. She stared down into the small bowl,
her face very bleak and old.
"So be it." She took one step and then another, turned over the
bowl and let the water splash back into the well. "So be it!"
Harsh, startlingly clear, a sound tore the morning air, the
alarm gong from the keep tower! That which we had feared for so
long had come upon us—the enemy was in sight!
The pony whinnied and jerked at its tether, so I reached for the
reins. As I struggled to control the frightened animal, the gong
continued to beat. Its heavy ring sounded in echoes from the hills
like the thunder of a rising storm. I saw Dame Math hold out the
bowl as if offering it to some unseen presence, allowing it to drop
into the well. Then she came to me. The need for action was like
youth poured into her frail body. Yet her face was one knowing hope
no longer, looking forward into a night without end.
"Cyart has dreamed his final dream," she said, as she mounted
the sweating pony. Of him she did not speak again; perhaps because
she could not. For a moment or two I wondered what she had seen in
the bowl. Then the alarm shook everything from my mind save the
fact that we must discover what was happening at the keep.
The news was ill indeed, and Dagale broke it to us as to
marshaled his men for what all knew could be no defense, only a
desperate attempt to buy time for the rest of us. The invaders were
coming upriver, the easiest road to us from the coast. They had
boats, our scouts reported, that were not sailed or oared, but
still moved steadily against the current, And we of Ithkrypt had
little time.
We had long ago decided that to remain in the keep and to be
battered out of it was deadly folly. It was better for those who
could not fight to take to the hills and struggle westward. So we
had even rehearsed such retreats.
At the first boom of the gong, the herdsmen had been on the
move, and the women and children also, riding ponies or tramping
away with their bundles, heading west. I went swiftly to my
chamber, pulled on with haste my mail coat and my sword, and took
up my heavy cloak and the saddlebags in which I had packed what I
could. Yngilda was gone, garments thrown on the floor, her portion
of our chamber looking as if it had already been plundered.
I sped down the hall to the short stairs and up to Dame Math's
room. She sat there in her high-backed chair, resting across her
knees something I had never seen in her hands before, a staff, or
wand. It was ivory white, and along its surface were carven
runes.
"Dame — your cloak — your bag — " I looked about me for those
that we were to have ever-ready. But her chamber was as it had
always been; there was no sign she meant to quit it. "We must be
off!" I hoped she was not so weak she could not rise and go. I
could aid her, to be sure, but I had not the strength to carry her
forth.
She shook her head very slowly. Now I saw her breath came in
gasps, as if she could not draw enough air into her laboring
lungs.
"Go — " A whispering voice came with visible effort from her.
"Go—at—once—Joisan!"
"I cannot leave you here. Dagale will fight to cover our going.
But he will not hold the keep. You know what has been decided."
"I know — and — " She raised the wand. "For long I have followed
the Flame and put aside all that I once knew. But when hope is gone
and the heart also, then may one fight as best one can. I do now
what I must do, and in the doing perhaps I may avenge Cyart and
those who rode with him." As she spoke, her voice grew stronger
word by word, and she straightened in her chair, though she made no
effort to rise from it.
"We must go!" I put my hand on her shoulder. Under my touch she
was firm and hard, and I knew that, unwilling, I could not force
her from her seat.
"You must go, Joisan. For you are young, and there may still be
a future before you. Leave me. This is the last command I shall lay
upon you. Leave me to my own reckoning with those who will come—at
their peril!"
She closed her eyes, and her lips moved to shape words I could
not hear, as if she prayed. But she did not turn her prayer hoops,
only kept tight hold on the wand. That moved as if it had the power
to do so of itself. Its point dropped to the floor and there
scratched back and forth busily as if sketching runes, yet it left
no marks one could see.
I knew that her will was such she could not now be stirred. Nor
did she look up to bid me any farewell when I spoke one to her. It
was as if she had withdrawn into some far place and she had
forgotten my existence.
Loath to go, I lingered in the doorway, wondering if I could
summon men and have her carried out by force, sure she was not now
responsible in word or deed. Perhaps she read my thought in my
hesitancy, for her eyes opened wide once again, and in her loose
grip the wand turned, pointed to me as a spear might be aimed.
"Tool — in this hour I die — I have read it. Leave me pride of
House, girl, and let me do what I can to make the enemy sorry he
ever came to Ithkrypt. A blood-debt he already owes me, and that I
shall claim! It will not be a bad ending for one of the House of
the Broken Sword. See you do as well when your own time is upon
you, Joisan."
The wand twirled as it pointed to me. And I went, nor could I do
otherwise, for this was like a geas laid upon me. A will and power
greater than my own controlled me utterly.
"Joisan!" The gong no longer beat from the watchtower, so I
heard that call of my name. "Joisan, where are you?"
I stumbled down the steps and saw Toross standing there, his war
hood laced in place, only a portion of his face visible. "What are
you waiting for?" His voice was angry and he strode forward, seized
me by the shoulder and dragged me toward the door. "You must mount
and ride — as if the night friends themselves were upon us — as
well they may be!"
"Dame Math — she will not come — " He glanced at the stair and
then at me, shaking his head. "Then she must stay! We have no time.
Already Dagale is at arms on the river bank. They — they are like a
river in flood themselves! And they have weapons that can slay at a
greater distance than any bolt or arrow can fly. Come — "
He pulled me over the doorsill of the great hall and into the
open. There was a horse there, a second by the gate. He half-threw
me into the saddle. "Ride!"
"And you?"
"To the river, where else? We shall fall back when we get the
shield signal that our people are in the upper pass. Even as we
planned."
He slapped my mount upon the flank so that the nervous beast
made a great bound forward and I gave all my attention to bringing
it once more under control.
I could hear far-off shouting, together with other sounds that
crackled, unlike any weapon I could imagine. By the time I had my
horse again under control, I could see that Toross was riding in
the opposite direction toward the river. I was tempted to head
after him, only there I would have been far more of a hindrance
than a help. To encourage those who fled, to keep them going, was
my part of the battle. Once in the rougher ground of the heights,
we would split apart into smaller bands, each under the guide of
some herder or forester and so, hopefully, win our way westward to
whatever manner of safety would be found in High Hallack now.
But before I came to the point where the trail I followed left
the dale bottom a stab of memory caught me. The crystal gryphon—I
had left it snared on the bush beside the well! And I had to have
it. I swung my mount's head around, sending Yarn across a field of
ripe grain, not caring now that he trampled the crop. There was the
darker ring of trees marking the well-site. I could pick up the
gryphon, angle in a different direction, and lose very little
time.
Taking heed of nothing but the trees around the well and what I
had to find there, I rode for it and slid from the saddle almost
before the horse came to a full halt. But I had enough good sense
to throw my reins over a bush.
I pushed through the screen of growth, setting jogging and
waving many of those tokens netted there. The gryphon — yes! A
moment later it was in my hand, safe again. How could I ever have
been so foolish as to let it go from me? I could not slip the chain
over my mail coif and hood, but I loosened the fastening at my
throat long enough to thrust my treasure well within.
Still tugging at the lacings to make them fast, I started for my
horse. There was a loud nicker, but I was too full of relief at
finding the gryphon to pay the heed I should have to that. So I
walked straight into danger as heedlessly as the dim witted.
They must have seen me ride up and set their trap in a short
time, favored by the fact that I was so intent upon the bauble that
had brought me here. As I reached for the reins of my horse, they
rose about me with a skill suggesting this was not the first time
they had played such a game. Out of nowhere spun a loop that fell
neatly over my shoulders and was jerked expertly tight, pinning my
arms fast. I was captive, through my own folly, to those of
Alizon.
Though I had willed Toross and his kinswomen to be out of
Ithkrypt, their going was not so easily accomplished, for Toross
still kept to his bed. Nor could I suggest that he be taken away by
litter. But I did avoid his chamber. That I had garnered the ill
will of Islaugha and Yngilda went without saying. Luckily there
were duties enough to keep me out of their way.
In riding skirt, with a packet of cheese and bread for my
nooning, I rode with an armsman in the morning, inspecting the
fields; visiting our outposts in the hills. I wore mail now and
that sword my uncle had given me, and none raised their voices to
say such a guise did not become me, for these were times when each
turned hand to what must be done.
A sickness had come upon us without warning, bringing fever and
chills and deep, racking coughs. By some favor of the Flame I
escaped the worst of this, and so into my hands came more and more
authority. For Dame Math was one of the early stricken. And, while
she also left her bed among the first, she was plainly weakened,
though she attended to her duties with little care for herself.
Marshal Dagale was also among the sick, and during those days
his men turned to me for orders. We manned the lookout posts as
best we might and tried also to get in the crops. It was a hard
season, for there was much to be done and few on their feet for the
doing of it. Days and nights were lost to me in a general sea of
weariness from which there was no rest
All who could labor, did. Even the little children dropped seeds
into the waiting furrows left by plows their mothers guided. But we
could only do so much, planting less than the year before. By
midsummer day, instead of celebrating by a feast, I rather selected
those who must leave us for Norsdale and saw them off, mainly
afoot, for we could not spare mounts.
Toross did not go with them. His hurt had mended now enough so
he could get about, and I hoped he would have the courtesy to
leave. But he did not. Rather he fell into companionship with
Dagale, acting as his second in command when the Marshal once again
took up his duties.
I was never happy during those weeks. Though Toross did not seek
me out, yet I felt his eyes ever upon me, his will like an
invisible cord striving to draw me as he wished. I could only hope
that my will to resist was as strong. I liked Toross for himself,
as I had from our first meeting. In those days he had had a gaiety
of temper that was in contrast to the somber life I had always
known. He was gentle and considerate and talked amusingly. His face
was comely, and he knew well how to make himself agreeable in
company. I had seen the eyes of the maids in the household follow
him and had also felt his charm.
His wound had sobered him somewhat. Still he lightened our
hearts in those days, and I did not deny that he had much to give.
But his quiet confidence that I would go to him, yield — that I
could not understand.
I know that dalesmen look upon women as possessions, perhaps to
be wooed and indulged for a season, and then, once won, to be a
part of the household like hawk, hound, or horse. We are bartered
by our kin for our dowry rights, for alliances between dales. And
in such matters we have no voice to oppose what we may fear or
hate.
For a woman to set herself up in opposition to any alliance made
for her is to suggest she may have some commerce with a dark power.
And if accused of that she can be in dire danger, even from those
to whom she has the closest blood ties. But this does not make it
an easy portion to swallow.
My way had been relatively easy in such matters — until now.
First, Dame Math was a woman of presence and spirit, one of the
Dames who had the respect of men and a place of her own in the
dales. Her brother had made her the head of his household and
deferred to her, taking her counsel in many matters.
Being discreet, she had worked within the frame of custom, not
in open opposition to it. She had seen to it that I learned much
that was forbidden or deemed unnecessary for most maids. I could
read and write, having been tutored at the House of Dames. And I
had not been set to small tasks elsewhere when she and Lord Cyart
conferred about important matters, but had been encouraged to
listen. Dame Math sometimes thereafter quizzed me as to the
decision I might have made on this matter or that, always
impressing on me that such knowledge was needful for a lady of a
keep.
My uncle had taken obedience to his decrees as his right, but in
addition he had often explained the reason for them, not given
orders only, though he had a hasty temper and could be sharp. But
as I grew older, he asked my will in small matters, and allowed me
to have it.
I knew that there was speculation among the dalesmen concerning
me. I had heritage from my father, but not in land, as he was
second son and half-brother to Cyart. Cyart could, by custom, name
me heir, even though I was a girl, but the choice could also fall
on Toross because of his sex.
Until the southland had been overrun, Toross had been heir in
the direct line to his father's dale. Now he was as lacking in
lordship as any second or third son. And his continued assumption
that I would come to him was, a small nagging doubt told me,
perhaps not because he was moon-struck with my person (for I had no
such vanity) but that he might so have a double claim upon Cyart as
heir-to-be.
Perhaps I did him wrong in that, but that this thought moved in
Islaugha I am sure. It made her try to veil her dislike of me and
strive rather to throw us together and foster a closer
relationship. I began to feel much as a hare coursed by two hounds
during those summer days, and clung closer and closer to duties I
could use as a screen.
The leaving of the first refugee party at midsummer was a
relief, though not as great a one as I had hoped for. I had an
additional worry concerning Dame Math. Though she kept to her
tasks, I was well aware that she tired very easily; that beneath
her coif her face grew thinner, her skin more transparent She often
kept her hands clasped tight about her prayer hoops now, and, in
spite of that tight grip, her fingers shook in a way she could not
control.
I spent all the time I could with her, between us a question
that neither of us, I believe, wanted to ask or answer. But she
talked more than she had in all the years before, as if she had a
very short time left in which to impart to me so much. The lore of
healing and herbs I already knew a little, since that had been a
part of her lessons since my childhood. Besides that she spoke of
other things, some of it strange hearing, and so I learned much of
what perhaps was seldom shared between one generation and the
next.
That we lived in a haunted land we all knew, for a person need
only turn head from one side to another to sight some remnant of
the Old Ones. There were old dangers that could be stirred into
life by the unwary — that, too, all knew. Children were warned
against straying—venturing into places where there was an odd
stillness, more like waiting than abandonment.
I was drawn into the edge of a secret that was not of my
seeking, nor of Dame Math's save that duty, by which she ordered
her life, urged it on her. The Flame to which the Dames gave homage
was not of the Power as the Old Ones knew it. And at most times
those who professed the Flame shunned what lay in the hills,
invoking their own source of Power against the alien one. But it
seemed that even one of the House of Dames could be driven in times
of stress to seek aid elsewhere.
She came to me carry one morning, her poor face even more worn
and haggard as she stood plucking nervously at her prayer hoops,
gazing over my head at the wall as if she did not want to meet my
eyes.
"Joisan, all is not well with Cyart — "
"You have had a message?" I wondered why I had not heard the way
horn. In those days such were always used between friend and friend
on the approach to any keep.
"None by word of mouth, or in runes," she answered slowly. "I
have it here." She allowed the hoops to dangle from her belt-chain
and lifted her thin fingers to smooth the band across her
forehead.
"A dream?" Did Math share that strange heritage?
"Not as clear as a dream. But I know ill has come to him,
somewhere, somehow. I would go to the moon-well — "
"It is not night, and neither is it the time of the full moon,"
I reminded her.
"But water from that well can be used — Joisan, this I must do.
But — but I do not think I can go alone — that far — "
She swayed and put her hand to the wall to steady herself. I
hurried to her, and her weight came against me so I had trouble
guiding her to a stool.
"I must go — I must!" Her voice rose, and there was in it an
undercurrent of alarm that frightened me. When one who has always
been rock-firm becomes unstable, it is as if the very walls are
about to topple.
"You shall. Can you ride?"
There were beads of moisture showing on her upper lip. Looking
at her straightly in that moment I saw that Dame Math had become an
old woman. As if overnight all the weight of years had crushed down
upon her, which was as frightening as her unsteadiness.
Some of her former determination stiffened her shoulders,
brought her head upright again.
"I must. Get me one of the ponies, Joisan." Leaning on me
heavily, she came out into the courtyard, and I sent a stable boy
running for a pony: those placid, ambling beasts we kept mainly for
the carrying of supplies. By the time he returned, Dame Math was as
one who has sipped a reviving cordial. She mounted without too much
difficulty, and I led the pony across the fields to that very well
where I had once slipped in the nighttime to ask a question of my
own.
If any marked our going, they left us alone. The hour was early
enough so that I think most were still at their morning food. As I
tramped beside the pony, I felt the punch of hunger at my own
middle.
"Cyart — " Dame Math's voice was hardly above a whisper, yet it
was as if she called and hoped to have an answer to her calling. I
had never thought much about the tie between those two, but the
ring of that name, uttered in her voice, told me much at that hour.
For all their outward matter-of-fact dealing with each other there
was deep feeling too.
We came to the well. When I had been there at night before, I
had not seen clearly those traces by which others had often times
sought out a sign of the Power that was said to be there. There
were well-worn stones rimming in the well, and beyond those,
bushes. To the bushes things were tied. Some were merely scraps of
ribbon, color lost through the action of wind and weather. Others
were crudely fashioned of straw or twig—manikins or stick horses,
sheep — all twirling and bobbling within sight of the water,
perhaps set there to signify the desire of the petitioners.
I helped Dame Math from the pony's back, guiding her forward a
step or two until she pulled free from my aid and walked as might
one who needed no help. With her goal in sight, a semblance of
strength flowed back into her.
From a deep skirt pocket she brought forth a bowl no larger than
could be fitted into the hollow of her hand. It was of silver,
well-burnished. And I remembered that silver was supposed to be the
favorite metal of the Old Ones, just as opals, pearls, jade, and
amber were their jewels.
She gestured me to stand beside her and pointed to a plant that
grew at the lip of the well itself. It had wide leaves of dark
green veined with white, and I did not remember ever seeing its
like before.
"Take a leaf," she told me, "and with it dip to fill this
bowl."
The leaf, pinched, gave forth a pleasant aroma, and it seemed to
twist almost of its own will into a cup, so I might spoon water
into the bowl. The water in the well was very high, its surface
only a little below the level of its stone rim. Three times did I
dip and pour before she said, "Enough!"
She held the bowl between her hands and raised it, blowing
gently on the liquid within so it was riffled by her breath.
"It is not water of the Ninth Wave, which is the best of all for
this purpose, but it will do."
She ceased to puff, and the water was smooth. Over it she gave
me one of those compelling looks that had always brought my
obedience.
"Think of Cyart! Hold him as a picture in your mind."
I tried to draw a mind picture of my uncle as last I had looked
upon him, when he had drunk the stirrup cup of my pouring before
riding south. I was surprised that the months between had dulled my
memory so quickly, because I found it hard to recall him with any
clarity. Yet I had known him all my life long.
"There is that about you" — Dame Math looked at me narrowly —
"which gainsays this. What do you have on you, Joisan, which
obstructs the Power?"
What did I have about me? My hand went to my bosom where the crystal gryphon lay in
hiding. Reluctantly, urged to this by the stern eyes of Dame Math,
I brought forth the globe.
"Hang it over there!"
Such was her authority that I obeyed her, looping the chain near
one of those straw people lashed to a branch. She watched and then
turned her gaze again to the bowl.
"Think of Cyart!" she demanded once again.
Now it was as if a door opened and I could see him, clear in
every detail.
"Brother!" I heard Dame Math cry out. Then there were no more
words, only a desolate sound. She stared down into the small bowl,
her face very bleak and old.
"So be it." She took one step and then another, turned over the
bowl and let the water splash back into the well. "So be it!"
Harsh, startlingly clear, a sound tore the morning air, the
alarm gong from the keep tower! That which we had feared for so
long had come upon us—the enemy was in sight!
The pony whinnied and jerked at its tether, so I reached for the
reins. As I struggled to control the frightened animal, the gong
continued to beat. Its heavy ring sounded in echoes from the hills
like the thunder of a rising storm. I saw Dame Math hold out the
bowl as if offering it to some unseen presence, allowing it to drop
into the well. Then she came to me. The need for action was like
youth poured into her frail body. Yet her face was one knowing hope
no longer, looking forward into a night without end.
"Cyart has dreamed his final dream," she said, as she mounted
the sweating pony. Of him she did not speak again; perhaps because
she could not. For a moment or two I wondered what she had seen in
the bowl. Then the alarm shook everything from my mind save the
fact that we must discover what was happening at the keep.
The news was ill indeed, and Dagale broke it to us as to
marshaled his men for what all knew could be no defense, only a
desperate attempt to buy time for the rest of us. The invaders were
coming upriver, the easiest road to us from the coast. They had
boats, our scouts reported, that were not sailed or oared, but
still moved steadily against the current, And we of Ithkrypt had
little time.
We had long ago decided that to remain in the keep and to be
battered out of it was deadly folly. It was better for those who
could not fight to take to the hills and struggle westward. So we
had even rehearsed such retreats.
At the first boom of the gong, the herdsmen had been on the
move, and the women and children also, riding ponies or tramping
away with their bundles, heading west. I went swiftly to my
chamber, pulled on with haste my mail coat and my sword, and took
up my heavy cloak and the saddlebags in which I had packed what I
could. Yngilda was gone, garments thrown on the floor, her portion
of our chamber looking as if it had already been plundered.
I sped down the hall to the short stairs and up to Dame Math's
room. She sat there in her high-backed chair, resting across her
knees something I had never seen in her hands before, a staff, or
wand. It was ivory white, and along its surface were carven
runes.
"Dame — your cloak — your bag — " I looked about me for those
that we were to have ever-ready. But her chamber was as it had
always been; there was no sign she meant to quit it. "We must be
off!" I hoped she was not so weak she could not rise and go. I
could aid her, to be sure, but I had not the strength to carry her
forth.
She shook her head very slowly. Now I saw her breath came in
gasps, as if she could not draw enough air into her laboring
lungs.
"Go — " A whispering voice came with visible effort from her.
"Go—at—once—Joisan!"
"I cannot leave you here. Dagale will fight to cover our going.
But he will not hold the keep. You know what has been decided."
"I know — and — " She raised the wand. "For long I have followed
the Flame and put aside all that I once knew. But when hope is gone
and the heart also, then may one fight as best one can. I do now
what I must do, and in the doing perhaps I may avenge Cyart and
those who rode with him." As she spoke, her voice grew stronger
word by word, and she straightened in her chair, though she made no
effort to rise from it.
"We must go!" I put my hand on her shoulder. Under my touch she
was firm and hard, and I knew that, unwilling, I could not force
her from her seat.
"You must go, Joisan. For you are young, and there may still be
a future before you. Leave me. This is the last command I shall lay
upon you. Leave me to my own reckoning with those who will come—at
their peril!"
She closed her eyes, and her lips moved to shape words I could
not hear, as if she prayed. But she did not turn her prayer hoops,
only kept tight hold on the wand. That moved as if it had the power
to do so of itself. Its point dropped to the floor and there
scratched back and forth busily as if sketching runes, yet it left
no marks one could see.
I knew that her will was such she could not now be stirred. Nor
did she look up to bid me any farewell when I spoke one to her. It
was as if she had withdrawn into some far place and she had
forgotten my existence.
Loath to go, I lingered in the doorway, wondering if I could
summon men and have her carried out by force, sure she was not now
responsible in word or deed. Perhaps she read my thought in my
hesitancy, for her eyes opened wide once again, and in her loose
grip the wand turned, pointed to me as a spear might be aimed.
"Tool — in this hour I die — I have read it. Leave me pride of
House, girl, and let me do what I can to make the enemy sorry he
ever came to Ithkrypt. A blood-debt he already owes me, and that I
shall claim! It will not be a bad ending for one of the House of
the Broken Sword. See you do as well when your own time is upon
you, Joisan."
The wand twirled as it pointed to me. And I went, nor could I do
otherwise, for this was like a geas laid upon me. A will and power
greater than my own controlled me utterly.
"Joisan!" The gong no longer beat from the watchtower, so I
heard that call of my name. "Joisan, where are you?"
I stumbled down the steps and saw Toross standing there, his war
hood laced in place, only a portion of his face visible. "What are
you waiting for?" His voice was angry and he strode forward, seized
me by the shoulder and dragged me toward the door. "You must mount
and ride — as if the night friends themselves were upon us — as
well they may be!"
"Dame Math — she will not come — " He glanced at the stair and
then at me, shaking his head. "Then she must stay! We have no time.
Already Dagale is at arms on the river bank. They — they are like a
river in flood themselves! And they have weapons that can slay at a
greater distance than any bolt or arrow can fly. Come — "
He pulled me over the doorsill of the great hall and into the
open. There was a horse there, a second by the gate. He half-threw
me into the saddle. "Ride!"
"And you?"
"To the river, where else? We shall fall back when we get the
shield signal that our people are in the upper pass. Even as we
planned."
He slapped my mount upon the flank so that the nervous beast
made a great bound forward and I gave all my attention to bringing
it once more under control.
I could hear far-off shouting, together with other sounds that
crackled, unlike any weapon I could imagine. By the time I had my
horse again under control, I could see that Toross was riding in
the opposite direction toward the river. I was tempted to head
after him, only there I would have been far more of a hindrance
than a help. To encourage those who fled, to keep them going, was
my part of the battle. Once in the rougher ground of the heights,
we would split apart into smaller bands, each under the guide of
some herder or forester and so, hopefully, win our way westward to
whatever manner of safety would be found in High Hallack now.
But before I came to the point where the trail I followed left
the dale bottom a stab of memory caught me. The crystal gryphon—I
had left it snared on the bush beside the well! And I had to have
it. I swung my mount's head around, sending Yarn across a field of
ripe grain, not caring now that he trampled the crop. There was the
darker ring of trees marking the well-site. I could pick up the
gryphon, angle in a different direction, and lose very little
time.
Taking heed of nothing but the trees around the well and what I
had to find there, I rode for it and slid from the saddle almost
before the horse came to a full halt. But I had enough good sense
to throw my reins over a bush.
I pushed through the screen of growth, setting jogging and
waving many of those tokens netted there. The gryphon — yes! A
moment later it was in my hand, safe again. How could I ever have
been so foolish as to let it go from me? I could not slip the chain
over my mail coif and hood, but I loosened the fastening at my
throat long enough to thrust my treasure well within.
Still tugging at the lacings to make them fast, I started for my
horse. There was a loud nicker, but I was too full of relief at
finding the gryphon to pay the heed I should have to that. So I
walked straight into danger as heedlessly as the dim witted.
They must have seen me ride up and set their trap in a short
time, favored by the fact that I was so intent upon the bauble that
had brought me here. As I reached for the reins of my horse, they
rose about me with a skill suggesting this was not the first time
they had played such a game. Out of nowhere spun a loop that fell
neatly over my shoulders and was jerked expertly tight, pinning my
arms fast. I was captive, through my own folly, to those of
Alizon.