Chapter 11 The Mountain Track
Two weeks later, in the sparse eastern edges of Skoteine, a company of travelers marched a wooded trail, making toward the open plain beyond the forest. First came an Ulrig, then three humans, and then another Ulrig. Lagging far behind came a miserable looking Dragon of the smaller sort. The Dragon appeared to be talking to himself.
“Yes, I know I’ve lost sight of them, Misar Mald, but my feet hurt every bit as much as they did yesterday and every day since we started. Dragons were not meant as land travelers.”
“You could end up walking a good deal more than necessary, Dramun, if you get lost,” replied the Fijat from his perch on the Dragon’s shoulder. “Although, I suppose I could hop down and track them with my nose. What are you stopping for?”
Dramun leaned against an oak and adjusted the packs of provisions that were slung around his scaly waist.
“Just a breather.”
“Yes, I understand, and I’m sorry for you, Dramun, but it won’t do. Maybe if we gave some of your packs to the others?”
“No, the others are too small.”
Neither spoke for a while as the birds twittered around them and the hot August sun shined down through evergreens. Then one of the company, a tall, skinny soldier, came walking back to them on the trail. Under this person’s helmet was a girlish face.
“Old Scale Tail, what can I do to help you?” She patted one of his iron-like foreclaws. “Shall I take one of these packs? I left mine up ahead when I started back to look for you.”
“No, no, Empress,” said Dramun, straightening himself valiantly. “I’ll be all right.”
“Well, it’s not much farther today,” she said. “We’re going to sleep the rest of the day, so we can begin crossing the Areophar by night. Isn’t that good news?”
Dramun did not trust himself to say what wonderfully good news it was, since he might break down with relief. He merely nodded.
“Good, then come along.” She pulled him ineffectually by the claw. “It’s not far to a big stone building that Snag said is our rest stop.”
“It’s not a building,” Mald said, as Dramun began to move again. “It’s a statue.”
“Well, I couldn’t see it clearly through the trees.”
Soon they caught up to the rest of the party: Snag, Snart, Athlaz, and Abram. These four were standing open mouthed before a truly immense statue. It reminded Simone of the Sphinx of Egypt; but rather than crouching on a sandy plain this concrete colossus was surrounded by the woods and half overgrown. It was a gigantic lion.
“No need to gawk,” said Mald. “It’s been here for ages, a well known landmark.”
“But you’ve seen it before,” answered Snag. “No doubt you gawked the first time.”
“I suppose I did.”
“Who built it,” asked Athlaz, “and when, and how in this wilderness?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know, and I don’t know. The only thing I can tell you,” said Mald, “is that there’s another like it on the far western edge of this forest—just as big, but a dog rather than a lion. Also, the Bull of Stone Island just off the west coast is said to be of the same workmanship.”
“We know of two such wonders in our mountains,” added Snart, “the Snake in the Long Range—which we may see in a few days—and the Crow in the Middle Range.”
“All of them were built long, long ago,” said Mald, “and all face toward the center of the land, figures on the rim of a huge circle and looking to the hub. The hub is—to be guessed.”
“Then I think I can guess well enough,” said Abram the Bard. “They face the Black Hall of Purgos.”
“Likely enough,” said Mald, “but unproven. And what the statues’ purpose is, no one has discovered. There’s a room under each of them entered by a door in the front. Travelers sometimes use them for shelters, which is what we intend now.”
Snag had made his way around a hilly forepaw of the image. “I see the doorway,” he reported. “Snart, come with me to investigate. The rest of you stay back.”
They were not long waiting. Snag and Snart came bounding out with their ears laid back.
“Empress, we must get you away from here at once,” said Snag. “We found five human corpses within, all recently dead of the plague.”
“Quickly, let’s move upwind of them,” Mald agreed.
When the travelers had removed by some hundreds of yards, Snag felt it safe to pause and tell them more.
“They’re Perg villagers by the look of their clothes, come from the north to escape the infestation.”
“Escape it!” Mald exclaimed. “They brought it with them.”
“That often happens,” said Snag. “The last great visitation of the Black Death was twenty years ago, but I remember it. Humans fled in every direction, but as often as not they were already infected without knowing it. We Ulrigs shut up the cave doors of the mountains to keep them out.”
“But why?” asked Athlaz. “Sarrs don’t get the plague.”
Snag pretended not to hear, but Mald answered for him. “They just didn’t want to mix in human troubles. No doubt, they’ve blocked their doors again this time, even the secret ones, until the plague is over. The better for us, since we’re going that way and don’t want to be waylaid by any Ulrigs. But where shall we spend the night, Captain Snag?”
“You know the land better than I do,” Snag grumbled.
“Yes, and I know there are no more places such as we’ve stayed in till now, house of Looper or of hermit. So I suggest we sleep in the open and risk the dew. We’ll do that often enough, I’m sure, before we come to the gates of the Sidder-Phar, so we might as well get used to it. No camp fire either, it attracts too much attention. If the evening gets cool, Dramun will provide warmth enough.”
While the others listened to Mald, Simone looked around and happened to see something surprising, something even the wary Snag had not noticed. Perhaps her human eyes were more quick to detect the motionless and colorful.
“What is that,” she suddenly said, pointing, “a midget nun?” (She used the English word ‘nun,’ there being no such word in Kreenspam.)
About twenty yards away stood a little human, or apparently a human; robed and hooded in dark green, veiled in red, and masked over the upper half of the face in white. Only the eyes were visible. The others whirled around to face it.
“It’s a Perg girl,” said Mald. “You humans don’t go near her. She probably has the plague. Snart, hand me my crossbow.”
“You’re not going to shoot her?” said Simone aghast.
“Not unless necessary,” said the Fijat, “and not to kill.”
Receiving from Snart the tiny, deadly weapon, Mald began to crank the string. For a moment Simone watched the bow tauten while seemingly hanging in the air.
“No,” she said. “Snart, go talk to her and find out what condition she’s in. Mald, put that thing away!”
“Yes, Empress. You understand it’s just a precaution in case she should run toward you?”
“I’ll risk it, you barbarian.”
When Snart approached her, the girl turned as if to run and fell in the underbrush. He leaped to her and blocked her way. Then as the others watched, the two seemed to be conversing. At last, Snart returned and reported.
“A sad story,” he said. “She’s the daughter of the family we found under the Lion, and the only survivor. She’s been alone for a few days since the last of them died. She has a little food left and so far shows no signs of visitation, but she’s exhausted, and distracted with grief and fear. Naturally, she’s terrified of me, and of Dramun. She’s just eleven. A little more of this and she’ll go mad, in my opinion.”
“We hear entirely too much of your opinion,” Snag said. “Just stick to your report.”
“Well, I feel sorry for her.”
“So do we. It’s a shame we’ll have to le
ave her,” said Mald sadly, “but perhaps we can steer her toward a friendly hermit who would lay out food for her until the plague either takes her or doesn’t. Snart, do you think you can direct her to—wait! Stop her! Look to the Lady!”
Simone was already half way to the girl, and waved them away. “Stay back, you’ll scare her!” In a moment she was leaning down to look into those haunted, young eyes. Though the others warned and pleaded, they could do nothing. Simone spoke quietly to the girl for some time and ended by welcoming her into her arms.
They were a week crossing the War Valley. On the second day they were able to give the Perg girl to a company of some dozens of Pergs whom they met; for they often met them, many or few, fleeing their villages. Those who seemed whole were traveling with no plan or destination and were pitiful enough. Worse were the actual plague victims whom they saw staggering in delirium and agony and heard screaming by day and by night. Each found a place to die under some bush or in the grasses. Here and there the travelers found some of these already dead and gave them a wide berth. Whether dead or alive, Simone reminded herself, these wanderers were just the few who had left their cities and villages. What could it be like where they had come from?
Mald informed her that the plague had first come to the Fold in 3650 N.R. and that it was believed that the Black Vulture had somehow introduced it. Since the date corresponded with the 1300’s A.D. of her world, Simone wondered if the Vulture had somehow brought it from Europe. It certainly seemed to be the same Black Death she had learned about in history class, the Bubonic Plague that had once swept away a fourth of the population of Europe.
Wishing to pass the open plain quickly, they made long marches, mostly by night. During this time, Simone often walked near Athlaz and had long conversations with him in which she did most of the talking. His shyness and deference brought her out of herself, so that by the end of the week she had told him the story of her life. She felt more and more comfortable with him, being very happy to make friends with a boy actually taller than herself—four inches taller! Around Athlaz she felt almost petite.
He was silent, practical, sensitive to her moods. At such a young age, he was the most renowned warrior in the Forest States, and the champion wrestler. He was also clean living and prayerful, dedicated to Thoz. He even showed a dry sense of humor occasionally and did not blink an eye when she began to call him Thaz.
He began teaching her the rudiments of fencing. At his suggestion, she carried her unsheathed sword in her hand for hours each day. This, he said, would gradually cause her to treat the sword as an extension of her arm and go a long way toward enabling her to defend herself with it. He wanted to make a reality of her temporary disguise as a soldier. She learned quickly.
The travelers went unmolested across the War Valley, perhaps because Dramun was among them. The Pergs wandering in that desolate land had never seen a Dragon and almost invariably fled when they did, no matter what their numbers.
In the early morning of August twenty-ninth they arrived worn out at the foothills of the Long Range. Later that day, they climbed to a stony vantage point high above the plain. While Snag and Snart went away to scout the area, Mald explained what lay ahead of them: weeks of cautious northward creeping along the high and tortuous track that paralleled the mountain tops. Simone listened with half an ear while daydreaming of far off Looper villages. Dramun was asleep in the sun.
Suddenly, Mald stopped talking. “We have a problem,” he said tensely. “Some creatures are approaching from upslope—Ulrigs I would guess, many of them.”
Athlaz leaped up. “They’re below us too, I see them!” He drew his sword. Little Abram did the same, with wide eyes and quivering breath, and he kicked a bit at the Dragon to wake him.
“Don’t bother waking Dramun,” Mald commented. “As like as not, he’s in on it, as is our Captain Snag. This could have been planned by them all back at the Palace.”
Dramun was rising. “What, visitors?” he deadpanned. “Let’s welcome some fellow Sarrs. This is good fortune.”
A score of Ulrigs were stepping out from the aspens above them. Their leader barked orders for them to stay back, then walked down to the travelers with Snag and Snart at his heels.
“Don’t be alarmed,” he called cheerily. “I’m Senator Slig of the Ulrig assembly, come to welcome the Empress and her escort. Grall sent us a message to watch for you here.”
“Excuse me,” said Mald. “Yes, I’m just below you, Slig, though you can’t see me. Misar Mald. I just want to point out that I sent a message by the Lusetta Misu asking for a few Ulrigs to meet us with provisions for our journey.”
“And we received that message, Misar. Misu is our guest in the caves even now.”
“Or your prisoner? No, I don’t expect you to answer that. Well, how did Grall communicate with you to instruct you to trap us here? Perhaps you Ulrigs have a rogue Lusetta or two in your pay?”
Slig had one weak eye, watery and half closed, which opened a bit at this. He brushed his red scarf with a nervous paw. “I wish to speak directly to the Empress.”
Simone came forward and looked the Senator in the face for long moments. “Well?” she said.
He stepped back and bowed clumsily. “Great Simone, your party is tired from journeying and no doubt hungry too. Please come with us at once up the mountain, just a short distance to a full table. Then you can all sleep in beds tonight.”
“In the caves?”
“In our caves, yes, your Eminence.”
Simone looked past him to Snag. “Snag, what are you and Snart doing away from my side?”
“We’re answerable to our Senate,” Snag answered readily. “Razaber’s plan has not been good. For your safety, Empress, do as Slig advises.”
“An end to the nonsense,” said Dramun happily. “From now on the Empress shall act like an Empress.” He blew a fire ball into the air. “Ah, sanity! And a rest for my feet!”
Simone kept her eyes on Snag while feeling more than seeing Athlaz and Abram close at her sides. Snag met her gaze steadily for long seconds, then looked away.
“Well, Your Eminence?” Slig prompted.
“Snag,” she asked, “were you enlisted for this back at the Palace of Reflections?”
He glanced at her. “No, Empress.”
“Do you want me to go with Slig?”
“Yes.”
“And if I don’t?”
“If you don’t then—then—” Snag drew his sword and placed the tip against Slig’s hairy back. Snart at once did the same. “Then I’m at your command, Empress.”
Slig whirled around, his good eye popping. “Captain, put your sword down!”
“No,” said Snag. “You order your company to withdraw. Tell a few of them to return unarmed with the promised provisions. It’s the wish of the Empress.”
“And bring Misu,” Simone added. “At once, Senator!”
Slig grudgingly gave the orders and the Ulrig company melted away.
“You’ll be executed for treason,” he told Snag.
Snag tilted his head toward Simone. “I think not. She outranks you.”
“You’re the one in trouble, Slig,” said Mald. “Attempting to kidnap an Empress, no matter how politely, is a serious crime. I could have you brought before the Forest Council. And as for you, Dramun, have you no shame?”
“No force was used or implied,” Dramun said.
“Or implied!” Simone approached the Dragon. “Then why were we surrounded?”
“I can answer that,” Snart said. “The plan was to try persuasion first and force only as a last resort. Dramun masterminded this back at the Palace—that’s why he didn’t find some way to escape going with you. But I swear Snag and I were no part of it. Grall tried to talk to us there at the Palace, but we wouldn’t listen.”
“So they tried to enlist you again here, just now?”
&n
bsp; “Yes, Simone, when we took a look around while you rested, Slig met us, told us the plan, and instructed us to approach you with him, since you would trust us.”
“And you agreed?”
Snart’s lip curled. “For the moment. But Snag and I made up our minds long ago that we would never be scolded by you again.”
“Oh, shut up,” Snag said to him. “You talk too much.”
“Scolded?” said Simone. “Like back at Ruin village? I thought I spoke pretty mildly to you then, but it must have sunk deep.”
At this moment the Ulrigs with the provisions arrived. One of them carried Misu and set her down at a short distance. The dainty Lusetta tried her wings on a tentative hop and then flew to Simone’s feet.
“All well, I hope, Misu?”
“All well, Empress. I saw their messenger while on my way here and outflew him. So these provisions were readied for you before Slig learned from Grall what to do.”
“Excellent, dear friend.” Simone stroked Misu’s head. “It’s time we moved on. Dramun, I’ll not be needing you anymore. I’m dismissing you. You’ve been a disappointment.”
The Dragon bowed like a toppling tree and righted himself. “My apologies, your Eminence. But you’ll find the wisdom of the Dragon is deepest. The Fold needs you alive. If you had chosen my way, all would have been well.”
“You mean all would have been well for me.”
“Exactly.”
“That’s not the same thing and you know it. Now I have something I want you to do. Stay here and watch for the human army from the Forest States. Make sure they’re well treated and hastened through the Ulrig tunnels to the northern plains where I’ll need them. Will you do that?”
Dramun was silent for a time. “I will, if it must be.”
“I think you’d better, Old Scale Tail, because you’re the only Dragon I’ve ever met, and so far you haven’t represented them very well. This is a chance to redeem yourself and Dragons in general. Oh, and if a few dozen Loopers show up—from the village of Bibaseel?—send them along too.”
For their devotion, Simone praised Snag and Snart as little as she had criticized them at earlier times, for she kept in mind that their record was still spotty. Some greater test of their allegiance might yet come. In the meantime, she had to concentrate just on breathing as they climbed the valleys of the Titans, wending northward on high and stony trails. Having never before been in mountains, she had not imagined that the flatlands below would look so like an ocean spreading to the blurry, curved horizon. The grandeur of the peaks and valleys thrilled her.
Other things too, manmade things, they came across on their way. First was the great stone Snake, brother to the Lion they had seen in Skoteine. They spent an uneasy night in the room beneath it and left it gladly next morning. Also, there were the Hepals, or Heads. These were enormous, ugly faces carved in the granite outcroppings in high relief, all facing westward. The Hepal’s eye sockets seemed deep as graves, their lips bulbous, and each tooth large as a dining room table. Every half mile or so they came to one of these, and always it overlooked a ‘saddle’ or low place among the peaks.
Snart explained to Simone, “The Hepals were carved by the Pergs long ago to warn their people not to cross the mountains.”
“What are they afraid of?” Simone asked as she huffed and puffed along their trail.
“Damnation, chiefly. It’s all Tiras’ idea of a holy land. He was their great founding prophet of long ago. He seems to have gotten things muddled up: declared himself to be the Great Sisskame, heir to Quintus, and revealed that these lands west of the mountains are the, uh, Land of Freedom—or Paradise.”
“Paradise has the plague,” commented Simone.
“Yes. Anyway, for anyone to go farther east would be to deny that Tiras was the Sisskame. Thus, the Heads.”
“I’m the Sisskame,” said Simone, still saving her breath with short sentences.
“Actually, your ancestor Prince Kuley fulfilled the prophecies that Tiras tried to apply to himself. But your Eminence, you might as well know that their have been as many True Sisskames, pretenders that is, as there are needles on these pines. Even some Sarrs have tried to claim your title.”
“They can have it.”
Snart ignored this. “Tiras declared the line of the mountain tops as his uncrossable eastern border. But since no respectable Perg will risk being suspected of even wanting to cross them, they don’t even enter the foothills down below. Only the non-respectable ones are found up here on the slopes: robbers, escaped slaves and prisoners, and now plague victims or those desperately fleeing the plague. To them the Hepals are a final warning, and even the most reprobate heed them.”
Simone looked around uncomfortably. “So the plague victims come up here too? I hoped we’d left them behind.”
“Don’t be concerned, Empress. This is how the plague helps us, you see. Because of it, everyone avoids everyone else. Even the bandits are afraid to rob for fear of being infected by their victims. At least that’s how it was during the last visitation. We may hope for an arduous but safe journey. The only problem is our food supply. What we are carrying won’t last for the weeks of slow progress ahead. Sooner or later we’ll have to go down to one of the towns and try to buy what we need.”
They delayed as long as possible, but after more than a week had passed the three humans went down to one of the Perg towns. They found what had been a city, now largely deserted. Grass grew in the middle of streets, corpses lay about where the victims had fallen, and many buildings had burned to the ground for lack of someone to put out a fire. As they made their way, they flinched to the shrieking of unseen victims who were writhing in agony inside the houses. Now and then they met folk, usually walking singly and down the middle of the street, who went wide around them. Stench, smoke, and groans were everywhere. Simone had never imagined such a horrible place.
When they came to the market square, more people were visible; and here were a few stalls, and also ox-drawn wagons filled with the produce of the countryside. Athlaz approached one of the wagons and began to select foodstuffs to fill their empty bags. The wagon vendor, a wrinkled and swarthy man, bearded and blue eyed, would not allow them to handle his goods but made them point from a distance. All the time he kept lifted to his nose some perfumed substance wrapped in a handkerchief. What they chose he put aside on the ground away from his wagon. Then he put a bucket of vinegar between them, backed away, and had Athlaz drop their coins—in exact change—into it. Lastly, they were allowed to collect their goods. The travelers were glad enough for his precautions against infection, for they helped to protect them from him as well. Also, looking around, they could see that his methods were common in the market.
While he retrieved their coins from the bucket, the old fellow spoke to them a little. Yes, other areas of the city were just as bad as this. No, he did not much expect to live. Yes, he had lost relatives, including a son. No, the end of the plague was not in sight, it having come only this year. No, the government could do nothing.
“The Royal Interpreter?” he echoed with resignation. “He keeps to his island now on the Great Lake. People say he allows no one to come there for fear of the plague, and that he himself has plenty of supplies to wait it out. Many here in Urz have done something like that, stocked up on goods and locked themselves in their houses. But what can a poor man do? The business is here so I ride in to the market every few days. You see I’m as careful as I can be, and as for my fate, I leave it up to Thoz. Likely we’re all going to die, and that as a judgment on our sins.”
He paused for a long time, and Simone hastened to fill a bag so they could be on their way back to the clean mountain air. As she was lifting the bag to her shoulder, he spoke again.
“But this young Emperor, maybe he can do something.”
Simone started. “Who is that?” she asked in as level a voice as s
he could manage.
“Then you strangers haven’t heard? They say he’s at the Interpreter’s court, eating the best of everything.”
“Uh, what does he look like?”
“Look like? Ha-ha, do you think I have eyes that can see to the Maigathal? I don’t know anything but what I’ve told you and that he plays chess with the Interpreter.”
The vendor turned to another customer, so Simone gave up and followed Athlaz and Abram back out of the city.
“It’d better not be Clay,” she said to them. “Just like the little scudball to lounge around a palace, feasting on the finest, while I drag myself through the mountains. Do you think it’s him?”
“I’m sorry, but probably not,” said Abram. “He’ll be a slave in Quintusia most likely, and that’s far from here. Whoever’s on the Long Island is just another Pretender. They’re everywhere.”
“But this one plays chess.”
“Chess play is very common among the Pergs, Empress. Of course, I hope it’s your brother. That would be very good news.”
“But miraculous, right? OK, I’ll try not to get my hopes up.”
She walked more slowly behind them, considering that she might send Misu to investigate, but Misu was needed to scout their own path, and besides it would be very dangerous for her. Nothing to do but put one foot in front of the other and pray some more.
For weeks they crept along on the slopes, under tree and over boulder. Misu, scouting from the air, steered them around other travelers, and Mald usually kept far ahead, using his invisibility and keen nose to further prevent their being surprised by anyone. At night—and the nights were cold in the mountains—they sought shelter under ledges and boulders, huddling in their cloaks, with perhaps a small fire; and they took turns keeping watch.
Despite the chills and the weariness, Simone found that she loved the mountains: the awesome vistas and noble rock faces, the clear and musical streams, the ravens and the mule deer, the pines and the aspens, and the clouds that came down and rested on the peaks. She also found a stability in their fixed routine that calmed her. One day was much like another with its beautiful scenery, its afternoon shower, Snag’s and Snart’s fussing—long talks with Athlaz.
Especially, she liked to talk with Athlaz, who was becoming her best friend. For the first time in her life she had the experience of liking a guy who liked her. Always before one half had been lacking. Now as they talked, or practiced swordplay, or brought up food from some Perg village, she found that effortlessly the equation had balanced. He was her opposite in many ways, so still and serene, but she liked him all the better for being what she could not be. One thing troubled her and that was that Athlaz kept a certain reserve around her, often addressing her as Empress and never discussing his feelings toward her. She was too intelligent and observant to miss the signs that he cared for her, and yet she knew something was the matter.
One afternoon she found herself walking by Athlaz with Snag far ahead of them and Snart and Abram far behind. Athlaz was talking to her about the food buying trip they and Abram had made to a Perg village that morning.
“Did you have a bad feeling,” he asked, “about the fellow who sold us the biscuits—him with all the rings?” Simone remembered an unsmiling fellow with a roguish look and a fine ring on every finger of both hands. “Yes, and he asked us where we were going.”
“Well, when I took out the coins to pay him, he got a look inside our purse and—I don’t know, I thought his eyes lit up just for a moment. I shouldn’t carry so much money. Next time I’ll leave most of it with Snag.”
“What do you think might happen?” she asked. “Would he follow us?”
“I don’t know, Empress. But I’ve noticed the plague doesn’t seem so severe in these lands as it was farther south. Robbers here might be more willing to risk contact with strangers.”
“Yes, we’ve left Thalschor far behind,” she said, “and the towns here in Tiras are a lot livelier. What do you think we should do?”
Athlaz pointed to Misu flying ahead of them at a great height. “I don’t think anyone could surprise us with her on the watch. I don’t know what more we can do that we aren’t already doing. Still, it worries me.”
Simone decided that the subject was exhausted. “Athlaz, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”
He looked at her with a hint of warning in his eyes, but she went on. “It’s that I think we like each other very much. Don’t we? I don’t mind saying so.” Now that it came to the moment, Simone was not nearly as matter of fact as she had planned to be. Her heart was pounding and her voice a little high. “Uh, how do you feel about me, Thaz? What’s on your mind?”
Athlaz said nothing for a time. They trudged along under the weight of their newly filled packs.
“You’re my Empress,” he said at last.
“Well yes, but I mean aside from that?”
He stopped and turned to her, looking down into her face. “There can’t be any aside from that,” he said quietly. “I’m the heir to a very minor Forest State, and all the Forest States combined are almost negligible compared to the great powers such as Eschor and the Silent Cities. When you marry, Simone, it’ll have to be a powerful lord such as the prince of Eschor. I’d only cripple what you’re trying to do for the Fold.” He walked on.
“Who said anything about marriage?” she said, following him. “We hadn’t come anywhere near talking like that! And I’ll tell you something I haven’t told you before, this Empress thing is just hogwash. No really, I don’t believe it myself. What have I got to do with some ancestress so distant that I can’t have more than a tiny bit of her blood in me? And I don’t believe in noble blood lines anyway. Athlaz, will you stop and look at me? I didn’t ask you to marry me, I asked how you feel about me. You could at least tell me that.”
He turned to her again. “What point is there in saying it?” he asked.
“Just so I’ll know.”
“All right then.” He looked into her hard, challenging eyes. “I love you, Simone. I wish you weren’t Empress, but since you are, I made up my mind in Ursala to serve you my whole life. I mean, since that’s all I can do.”
Simone made a disgusted sound. “Oh, that’s just so corny and pathetic and medieval. Next you’ll be wanting me to give you a glove so you can wear it in your helm! But my name’s Gareth, not Lynette. I won’t look down my nose at you, no matter what the whole Fold thinks!” She started along the path again. “And just so you’ll know, I love you, Athlaz pin Ursala.”
The next half hour was the longest completely silent time the two had yet spent together. Abram caught up to them but made no comment on their quietness. The silence was finally broken by the unexpected sound of a trumpet echoing across the mountain valley.
Athlaz paused and pointed down the slope where human figures could suddenly be seen running and climbing—all coming their way.
“What is it?” asked Simone.
“Bandits,” he said.