Bryn’s ears twitched forward. “If they’re willing to talk to me.”
“The Sisterhood doesn’t think Wyrds or Shee or Neira are automatically suspicious,” Kayl said, stung by the injustice of the assumption.
“That’s not what I meant. Your Sisterhood has a lot of information; I’d like to trade.”
“They’re not my Sisterhood,” Kayl muttered.
Bryn ignored the comment. “I want to know if they’ve heard anything of a Wyrd settlement in the north.”
“I think I can promise you they’ll tell you if they know anything about it,” Kayl said. “But what if they haven’t?”
“Even that’s information, of a sort. I’ll meet you outside the tavern in an hour; will that be enough time for you to arrange things with these Elder Mothers?”
“It should be. Thanks, Bryn.” Kayl rose and stamped her feet. Then, with a nod of farewell, she started back toward the tavern.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
WHEN KAYL ARRIVED, THE tavern was in an uproar. Fifteen or twenty of the townspeople stood in angry clumps in front of the door, muttering among themselves and glaring toward the center of the room. Corrana’s voice rose in icy anger from that direction, ordering someone back. Kayl tried to peer over or between the heads that blocked her view. She caught a glimpse of Elder Mother Alessa’s shining hair, and the members of the Star Clusters, but she still could not tell what was going on. She pressed her lips together and began to shoulder her way forward.
“Demon-cursed Varnan,” she heard someone say beside her. Kayl went cold. If something had happened to Glyndon.… It wasn’t like Glyndon to be careless; how had these people guessed he was Varnan?
“Traveling with a whole harem, bold as anything,” someone else said loudly. Kayl pushed herself between the last of the villagers and stopped.
The women of the two Star Clusters stood in a defensive half-circle, facing the villagers. None of them had drawn weapons, and all of them looked unhappy. Elder Mother Alessa was standing to Kayl’s left, just behind Risper, talking to the Star Cluster in a voice too low for Kayl to hear. Elder Mother Miracote stood near the other end of the string of star-sisters, studying the townsfolk through narrowed eyes.
Behind the Star Clusters, the remainder of the Sisterhood’s expedition stood or sat in three clumps. The first consisted of Corrana and the two Mothers, talking in soothing tones to the indignant tavern-keeper. Kayl’s opinion of the man, which had not been high to begin with, dropped sharply; he should be out here trying to talk the townsfolk out of starting a fight. Two Elder Sisters stood at the nearer end of one of the tables, watching the villagers. Glyndon sat at the other end of the table, white and shaking. Barthelmy and Elder Mother Javieri stood beside him, concern written across both their faces, while Mark and Dara hovered protectively a little way away. Kayl needed only the briefest glance to be certain that Glyndon had had another of his visions. She wanted to go to him, but dealing with the villagers could not wait. She hoped fleetingly that Mark and Dara would have time enough to run if things got ugly.
“You, there,” she said to a burly man in her best drill-master’s voice. “What’s troubling these people?” She waved at the glowering townsfolk.
“What?” The man looked confused, then suspicious. “Who’s asking?”
“I am. Well?”
“That man’s a Varnan,” the man said accusingly. An angry murmur from the people behind him bolstered his courage, and he added, “And we’re going to get him!”
“Really?” Kayl said. She pitched her voice with care, trying to achieve a tone of mild curiosity that would still carry to the rear of the room. “And I’d heard this was such a friendly town. What are you going to do with him when you have him?”
“Put him in the stocks,” shouted someone.
“Tar and sawdust,” yelled another.
“Hang him!”
There were uneasy murmurs among the crowd at that; evidently hanging was more than most of the villagers were ready to stomach. Kayl felt a touch of relief; they hadn’t really gotten worked up yet. “Sounds like a lot of effort,” Kayl commented. “What’s he done? Turned the ale bad?”
A stocky, brown-haired woman laughed. “If he tried that with Penshar’s ale, no one would notice!” she called.
Kayl recognized her as the same woman who had earlier sidetracked the angry young man’s diatribe against Wyrds. “In that case, I’d hang the brewer, not the wizard,” Kayl said.
She saw a few smiles among the crowd; their initial fear was beginning to fade.
“He’s a Varnan,” someone shouted from the back, but the voice was not as angry as the earlier ones had been.
“The brewer?” Kayl said.
There was a scattering of chuckles. “That’s why the ale’s so bad!” the stocky woman said.
“Don’t you bad-talk my business, Thela!” the tavern-keeper shouted from across the room. “I serve good ale.”
“Good for what?” said a skinny youth.
Kayl shot a quick glance at in the direction of the Sisterhood. The defensive stance of the Star Clusters had relaxed somewhat, but they were still standing. She caught Miracote’s eye and made a small patting motion with her left hand. Miracote nodded fractionally; a moment later, two of the Sisters returned to their seats.
The mood of the crowd had shifted; they were baiting the tavern-keeper now. Kayl saw several of those in back slip quietly out the door. A tall, gray-haired man caught her eye; he was watching the crowd with a detached air. Something about him struck a familiar chord in Kayl’s mind. She turned slightly so that she could keep an eye on him. Then she deliberately stretched and yawned. “Well, if there’s not going to be any excitement, I’m going to bed,” she announced. “I’ve had a long day.”
“So have we all,” the gray-haired man said. His voice was deep and gentle, and somehow the tone of it reminded Kayl that she really was nearly as tired as she had been pretending to be.
The man’s voice had the same effect on the villagers. Several more of them drifted out the door, and Kayl could almost see the energy draining out of the rest. “What about that Varnan?” someone called halfheartedly.
“Leave him here with Penshar’s ale,” the stocky woman suggested. “That’s punishment enough for anything!”
The remnant of the village crowd laughed and began breaking up. Most of them left in ones and twos and small clumps. Kayl let out a small sigh of relief. She heard benches scrape on the floor as the rest of the Sisters resumed their seats. Kayl glanced over her shoulder and saw Mark and Dara, still standing behind Glyndon. Mark’s eyes were wide with excitement;
Dara looked relieved. Kayl turned back and saw the stocky woman coming toward her.
“Thanks for your help,” Kayl said as the woman reached her.
The woman shrugged. “I don’t like fights.” She hesitated, then nodded toward the Sisters and went on, “You’re with them, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Kayl admitted. “But I could hardly announce it.”
“I thought I’d seen you with some of them earlier.” The woman paused again. “It might be wiser for your friend to be gone before morning.”
“I’d already come to that conclusion,” Kayl said. “But thanks for your advice.”
The stocky woman nodded and left. Kayl looked around and discovered the tavern-keeper heading purposefully in her direction.
“What do you mean by chasing away all my business?” the man demanded with frightened belligerence.
“Would you rather have had those people work themselves up until they started breaking mugs and smashing benches?” Kayl snapped. “Have some sense!”
“I know these people!” the tavern-keeper said. “They wouldn’t have—”
“They’d have tried,” said a voice from behind Kayl. She turned and found that the gray-haired man had come over. “And you wouldn’t be so frightened if you weren’t sure of that, Penshar,” the man went on.
&nbs
p; “Well, but what am I supposed to do now?” Penshar demanded, then jumped as Corrana’s calm, musical voice came over his shoulder.
“We shall, of course, pay extra to have privacy for the remainder of the night,” Corrana said.
The tavern-keeper brightened perceptibly. “How much?”
“Shall we discuss it?” Corrana said, and they moved away, talking in low voices.
The gray-haired man turned to Kayl and said, “You did a remarkable job of calming those people down, young woman.”
“I used to be an innkeeper,” Kayl replied cautiously. The man still seemed familiar somehow, but the reason continued to elude her.
“Used to be?” The man raised an eyebrow, then smiled.
“Pardon me; inquisitiveness is my besetting fault. But is there anything I can help you with now?”
Kayl started to decline politely, then paused. The gray-haired man showed no sign of wishing to leave the tavern, and until he was gone, or Kayl was sure of his motives, she and the Sisters would not be able to talk freely. Kayl glanced around. Corrana and the tavern-keeper had finished their discussion. Corrana had rejoined the Mothers, and the tavern-keeper was staring with avid curiosity at Glyndon and the Elder Mothers who surrounded him. Kayl smiled, seeing a way to dispose of two difficulties at once.
“If you could keep him out of the way for a little while…,” she said, nodding in Penshar’s direction.
The gray-haired man smiled. “Happy to oblige you.” He gave her a shallow bow and strolled in the tavern-keeper’s direction. After a brief conversation, the two men departed in the direction of the kitchen.
Kayl heaved a sigh of relief and at last headed for Glyndon. He appeared partially recovered; Dara had brought him a mug of something while Kayl was busy with the villagers and the tavern-keeper. Kayl hoped it wasn’t the ale. She took a seat opposite Glyndon and asked bluntly, “What happened?”
“Your Varnan wizard had one of his fits,” one of the nearby Sisters said sweetly. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Glyndon raised his head. “I suppose this is your way of reminding me not to take the harem comment seriously,” he remarked. He paused for an instant, then added reassuringly, “Don’t worry; I wouldn’t have.”
The woman who had spoken turned and glared at him. Beside her, one of her companions said pettishly, “It’s too bad Elder Sister Barthelmy couldn’t keep him upstairs. If he hadn’t come down babbling like that, none of this would have happened.”
Kayl looked around the table. Several heads were nodding, and there was agreement on many faces. Kayl’s temper gave way. “And if any of you had the good will you were born with, the situation would never have arisen. You all know what this expedition is trying to do, why Glyndon and Barthelmy and I are here, but all of you except Risper and Demma have done nothing but snipe at us since the day we left Kith Alunel. Do you think the people in this village didn’t notice your suspicions?”
“Kayl—”
“Shut up, Glyndon! I’ve been wanting to say this for a long time and I’m going to finish. All of you know what Glyndon’s visions are like; he’s had enough of them on this trip. Any one of you could have said something to keep the villagers from ever getting worked up—you could have passed it off as the fit you called it a minute ago. You didn’t even try, did you? You let Javieri and Corrana deal with Glyndon, and you sat watching like so many Frost Fair dolls.”
“We were ready to defend him,” said one of the warriors of the Star Clusters.
“So you were, Your Justice.” Kayl gave a sarcastic twist to the formal address. “You had to. It’s a pity that didn’t occur to you earlier, when you could have done something to avoid the problem. Instead you almost got yourselves attacked by a mob of half-drunk, unarmed villagers.”
“I don’t have to listen to this,” one of the sorceresses said, rising.
“Sit down, Holmi,” Elder Mother Javieri said. Her voice was low, and colder than the northern ice fields. “Or do you claim you need not listen to me?”
The woman dropped back into her seat as if someone had kicked her knees from behind.
“Kayl is right in her complaints,” Javieri went on, “and I am deeply disappointed in you.”
Kayl saw Corrana sit back a little, as if in satisfaction. Glyndon was listening with an abstracted expression, as though the conversation had nothing to do with him. Barthelmy looked worried; Risper was having trouble not grinning.
“This is not the first time I have heard complaints about the treatment some of you give Glyndon shal Morag,” Javieri went on. “Nor have all the complaints come from Kayl Larrinar. I have also watched and seen for myself. I should have spoken sooner, and perhaps this night’s work would have been avoided.”
“It wasn’t even a tavern brawl,” someone muttered.
Javieri’s eyes flashed. “It did not have to be. Some of you seem to have forgotten that this is no pleasure trip. The future of the Sisterhood depends on us. Furthermore, there are Magicseekers looking for us, and you have just allowed a scene that none of these villagers will forget. In three days it will be the talk of the countryside. You have been so busy with your dislike of Glyndon, Barthelmy, and Kayl that you have not thought about what we are doing. Where is your training?”
“We have seen no sign of Magicseekers since we left Kith Alunel,” Elder Mother Alessa pointed out.
“They aren’t making spectacles of themselves,” Kayl said, and paused. “Besides, there’s a good chance that they’re ahead of us already.”
“What!” said several voices at once.
“I ran into an old friend of mine, a Wyrd who’s heading north,” Kayl said. “A week ago, she saw a very suspicious-looking group of men at a village just south of here. She thinks they might have been Magicseekers, and I agree with her. They had horses; add up the travel time yourselves.”
There was a murmur of dismay from the Sisters. “Where is this friend of yours?” one of the Elder Sisters asked. “We should ask her a few questions.”
“Ask away,” said a voice from the direction of the doorway.
Heads turned. Bryn stood just inside the tavern, her dark-furred face unreadable. Beside her stood Alden and their eleven-year-old daughter, Xaya. There was a moment’s silence; then Mark and Dara cried, “Xaya! Bryn!” and ran forward, babbling excitedly.
Bryn’s eyes narrowed as she gazed indulgently at the three children, all of whom were talking at once. She waited a moment, until the first spate of excited chatter had passed, then said, “Xaya! Why don’t you take Mark and Dara somewhere and show them the Kulseth knot trick you learned in Salfirn?”
“Try the back room,” Kayl said. “I think it’s empty.”
The children left quickly, still chattering, and Alden and Bryn came forward. Kayl noticed that they had latched the door behind themselves.
“Bryn saMural and Alden toBrilan, these are my traveling companions,” Kayl said, waving at the company. She suppressed a temptation to leave it at that, and ran quickly through the list of names instead. “I think you’ve met Elder Sister Corrana,” she finished.
“I remember,” Bryn said, and looked at Corrana. “You have a way of making an entrance.”
“So have you,” Corrana replied dryly, and Bryn grinned.
“Kayl tells us you have seen men who may be Magicseekers,” Elder Mother Miracote said to Bryn. “Tell us of them.”
Bryn glanced at Kayl and cocked an ear questioningly. Kayl shook her head. “I didn’t have time to mention it. Things were a bit confused when I got here.”
“What are you talking about?” Miracote demanded.
“I agreed to talk to you if I could get some information in return,” Bryn said. “I want to know if you’ve heard of any Wyrd settlements near here.”
“If we knew, be sure we would tell you,” Javieri said. “I, for one, have not been told of any.” She glanced around the faces of her fellow Sisters, but all of them shook their heads.
“And in the nor
th?” Bryn asked.
Again, Javieri shook her head. “I am sorry.”
Bryn shrugged. “You can’t tell me what you don’t know. It was worth trying, though.”
“Then you will answer our questions?” Miracote asked. The Wyrd woman nodded, and Miracote went on, “Tell us your tale.”
One of Bryn’s ears twitched forward at Miracote’s tone, and behind her Alden’s eyes widened to amber discs. Then Bryn gave a half shrug and repeated the story she had told Kayl. When she finished, Alden told his own version, adding more details about the people he had seen. One of them fit the description of the man who had questioned Dara, but a great many men could be described as “sort of tall and plain, with a mustache.”
“Not entirely convincing,” Miracote said when the two Wyrds had finished.
“Must it be so?” Javieri said. “Kayl is right; we have taken too many chances with this mission already.”
“Alden,” Kayl said suddenly, “did any of those men wear rings?”
“No,” the Wyrd replied. “Some had the habit of it, though. Fairly heavy rings, I’d say, on the left hand’s middle finger.”
“How many of the men?”
“At least three of them; the others I didn’t see closely enough to notice.”
“How can you know that?” Elder Mother Alessa asked curiously.
“I am a jewelsmith, lady,” the Wyrd replied.
“Even if these men were Magicseekers indeed, what would you have us do?” Miracote said to Javieri. “It is too late to prevent them from getting ahead of us.”
“We’ll have to give up or try to slip by them,” Kayl said promptly, before Javieri could answer. “There aren’t any other choices, unless you’re considering a full-fledged battle.”
“We could stay here awhile,” one of the Mothers said in a doubtful tone.
“After the fuss you let happen this evening?” Kayl said. “You can stay, if you like; I won’t.”
There was a brief silence. Then Javieri said with decision, “We cannot give up now, so we must try to avoid these men. Your suggestions, please.”