But he went in health, not ensorceled, she told herself. Not cursed, as Xu-i-lok had been cursed. But then, she would not curse him in that way until she had him! And he has moved too swiftly for that. She did not speak it. Her people had enough to worry about. The night’s rest had allowed her to be sure of one thing: nothing had happened in Woldsgard that the duke had not anticipated and provided for. That anticipation was one reason he had sent her away so quickly. She had wondered at that, but it had been necessary!
They traveled at night for two more nights. At dawn after the second, they saw a ridge stretching from hillside to hillside before them, like a dike across the valley, the river thrusting its way through a cleft in its center and the road rising over its top at the left. Bartelmy rode up the rise and from there looked down on Benjobz Pond, another wide and shallow lake, this one cupped in a high, green valley with Benjobz Inn beyond it.
Once again, they hid wagons and animals in the forest while Bear sat by the fire and stared into the coals. Food was prepared, quietly. All of them but Bear ate, quietly. Finally, Precious Wind laid her hand on Bear’s shoulder. “What have you thought of?”
He stirred, noticing the plate before him for the first time. Hungrily, he seized a slab of bread, drew his knife, and sliced sausage atop it, then cheese, covering both with another slab of bread. “I’ve thought before we go riding by that place, we need to know what’s going on. Have any of you been here before? Know anyone who has? Have any kinfolk living up this way?”
Nettie said slowly, “I’ve mentioned my mother’s sister. Belika. She’s at the abbey, or so Ma always said. She cooks there. She’n’ Ma didn’t get along, but ever now and then, Ma got word of her.”
“Ah,” said Bear. “Well, now. Did you ever have brothers? Or cousins?”
“Belika had two boys, Timmer and Hout. They went down to Wellsport years ago, got in with the Port Lords, took ships for who knows where.”
“Willum, Clive,” Bear said. “You’re now Nettie’s cousins. One of you’s Timmer, the other is Hout; decide which and practice using the names. Nettie, you’re just who you are, Nettie Lean, joining your cousins to visit your aunt and their mother at Wilderbrook, hoping to make up for old family quarrels. Dig the cause out of your memory; create one if you can’t remember, so you can gossip about it. Nothing more boring than old disagreements in other people’s families. There are saddles in the dray. Each of you Farriers rides a horse—take that pale roan and the gray, they’re lightest in the bone, along with that brown she-mule for Nettie. Go on down to Benjobz, ask him if he’s got work you can do in trade for your lodging and food for a day or two, while the horses rest up. If yes, fine. If no, fine, say you’ll camp somewhere close by. If you’re asked if you’ve seen us, say you traveled with a bunch of Woldsgard people for a few days and left them when they had wheel trouble, this side of the falls. Get into conversation with anybody who’ll talk. Say you were off the road when a whole rush of horsemen went by one night. That’d make anybody curious, and someone’ll want to show off his knowledge of where they came from.”
“And you folks?” asked Nettie.
“Abasio?” Bear looked at him questioningly. “It would be good if you’d follow Nettie and the men, arriving a bit later. You could take lodging at the inn to rest your horse, or perhaps find some business they may have for a dyer. You don’t know Nettie and the men; they don’t know you. The rest of us are going to stay right here for a day or so,” Bear said. “When you find something out, one of you come to tell us about it. Once we know who all those horsemen were, then we’ll decide what to do next.”
Abasio nodded agreement. “And after you’ve been told?”
“Then each of you does what you said you’d do. Nettie and her cousins get on their well-rested animals and start up the Wilderbrook road to see her aunty. By that time, you’ll be acquainted with Abasio, and he’ll go along, or he’ll go first and you follow or t’other way round, whatever seems most natural. If you leave before us, stop at the first good camping place and keep watch; move on each day. We may not meet up until we’re at the abbey, but we’ll all get there.”
“We could all stop at that inn and find out the same information,” complained Oldwife. “I don’t like this splitting up.”
Precious Wind patted her arm. “All the rest of you could stop there and ask questions, certainly, if Xulai, Bear, and I were not with you. However, there is enmity directed against the child, Oldwife. You know that. And it’s against us, too, because we protect her. This plan seems the least dangerous and takes the least time.”
Willum and Clive went off to the wagons, unpacking this and that to stow in saddlebags. Nettie, shaking her head, went to do the same. She was a small woman; the brown mule was the smallest one, but still shaped like a barrel, and it had been a time since Nettie had ridden anything except a wagon seat. When it came to tactics, however, Bear always had a good reason, so there was no point asking him to change his mind. She was ruminating on this fact when Precious Wind tapped her on the shoulder.
“You won’t be sore from the little ride downhill from here to the inn, but you may on the uphill ride afterward. Here’s some salve for anyplace you feel blistered.”
“I’d feel better if Willum and Clive Farrier never touched ale,” Nettie said, shaking her head. “That’s an inn down there, and they can forget their own mother if they get drunk enough.”
Precious Wind spoke to Bear. Bear spoke softly to Willum and Clive, his hands moving up and down their shoulders as they nodded and agreed. Precious Wind returned to Nettie. “They will each relish one tankard in the evening. Nothing else, or Bear will slice off their ears and fry them for his breakfast.” She put her hand on Nettie’s shoulder.
“You’re sure?”
“Quite sure.” She went on to whisper for some little time, while her hand massaged Nettie’s arm and back. Nettie felt much better when she was finished. Xulai, watching, smiled to herself. She knew that shoulder-rubbing trick of the Tingawans. When they had done it to her, she was convinced she must obey them or die. Of course, she was younger then and didn’t know how to resist it. They had taught her that, too. Later on. When she was old enough to obey out of reason rather than paralysis.
Midmorning, the three rode out, the two men in front, chatting and laughing, Nettie behind, regarding them both with unmistakable annoyance.
“Looks very natural,” said Oldwife. “The men ignoring their cousin until they need her for something. Her resenting it but not saying a word.”
“So Bear and I thought,” purred Precious Wind. “Their relationship must appear ordinarily familial: vexed, provoked, and exasperated.”
The wagon’s contents had been disarranged by the Farrier brothers. Those remaining behind repacked everything and tied it down under its protective canvas. After a time, Abasio got himself upon the road, after squeezing Xulai’s shoulder in farewell. She looked after him sorrowfully. The time passed much faster when Abasio was with them, with her. Bartelmy was a friend, an old friend, but he had nothing new to say to her, nothing to make her mind struggle out of the muck and look at the sky the way Abasio did.
Precious Wind and Oldwife went into the meadow where Oldwife had seen a ragged stretch of ripe grain along the trees, something left, perhaps, from some long-ago farm, the grain reseeding itself year after year. Among the tall stems of ripe wheat they found remnants of root crops, parsnips and carrots and turnips, some so huge they had obviously grown for years, but others first-year roots, young enough to be tasty. Black Mike went off into the woods, returning well before dark with a young boar over his shoulder. He skinned and butchered it in a clearing far enough away that the carrion eaters and flies would not be a nuisance before bringing it to the women. “It’s only half-grown,” he said softly. “Should be reasonable tender.”
Oldwife and Precious Wind had wrapped the grain heads in a canvas and beaten them with sticks to break them up, then laid the canvas flat and tossed the grain i
n the light breeze to blow the chaff away. Now they cooked a cauldron of mixed meat scraps, grain, and root vegetables to accompany the roast pork. The meat they didn’t eat would be rubbed with salt and herbs and dried beside the fire, or in the smoke, if they could find the right wood to do it. Pecky hunted for wood while Bartelmy and Bear took turns keeping an eye on the road. The only traffic was two men on horseback, headed down toward the falls at a leisurely pace.
Xulai spent the day playing with her cats, too tired to offer to help or to think—indeed, trying not to think of anything at all. Supper was eaten early, so everything could be packed, ready to go at a moment’s notice. At sundown, Mike, Bear, Pecky, and Bartelmy agreed upon the order of the watch. Pecky took first turn. Xulai fell asleep almost as soon as she lay down, the basket amplifying the purrs of the kittens next to her ear.
She woke in the night. Someone was speaking to her: the chipmunk, who had not spoken for days.
“Xulai, don’t worry about Justinian. He is well.”
Though the chipmunk was at her ear, the words came from somewhere, nowhere, anywhere in the night. She heaved a great sigh and was asleep once more.
Morning came. By midday, they were beginning to feel edgy. There had been no report from the inn and the only creatures in the valley besides themselves seemed to be a great many sheep that had materialized out of the folds of the meadows across the road, earth-colored blobs springing up out of nothing, like mushrooms. A lackadaisical shepherd and a weary dog with its tongue out, neither in any hurry, were moving them on toward the inn. None of them saw Nettie arrive until she spoke to them.
“I was sent out to pick flowers,” she said, holding out a considerable bouquet. “Some important woman is coming to the inn tonight and Benjobz wants flowers in her bedroom. I hung around while he talked. I heard him say Altamont.”
“The duchess,” said Bear, frowning, his teeth showing. “We move now. Nettie, go back, take your flowers, don’t rush, don’t give any appearance of hurry, but get your animals saddled and put them where they won’t be seen by anyone arriving at the inn. All three of you leave when you can without attracting notice. Same for Abasio. We’ll go past the inn without stopping. Did you find out about the first riders?”
“That first lot was from Wilderbrook,” she said. “Second bunch was as we thought, from Ghastain atop the palisades. Nobody knows why or where. I’ve got to get back with this bouquet.”
Bear summoned Precious Wind and spoke to her quickly. She nodded and ran, gathering up Xulai as she went. Everyone else was busy with harnesses. Only two horses were harnessed to the closed carriage, only two to the wagon, and only four mules to the dray. Bear drove the closed carriage, first in line; Black Mike the wagon; and Pecky the dray. Bartelmy brought up the rear with the light carriage, into which part of the wagon’s contents had been piled and covered with stout canvas. When they reached the road, the men ran back and raked the grasses up, as they had done before, paying particular attention to the verges, where they scuffed out the tracks the wheels had made.
From the top of the ridge, the men could see miles in all directions. Bear raised his arm as though stretching, and the women emerged from the forest behind them: Xulai on Flaxen; Oldwife on one horse; Precious Wind on the other, leading the mule. Hidden by the ridge, the women rode swiftly across the road, splashed across the wide, shallow river, much diminished this far up the valley, then urged their mounts quickly up the sloped meadows into the forest along the south side of the valley. Once they were out of sight, Bear clucked to the horses and examined the view while they plodded down the far side of the ridge.
Benjobz Inn lay some distance beyond the pond, surrounded by green meadows and a clutter of pens, paddocks, and animal shelters of wood and stone, as well as a few carriages, including Abasio’s wagon. The pond itself was a shallow oval shield reflecting the blue of the sky. The road they were on, the so-called King’s Road from the King’s Highland, ran along the north side of both pond and inn. On the near side of the pond the road to the abbey, the Wilderoad, came down from among the rising hills to the south. Bear drove toward the crossing, hauling on the reins to turn right over the stout timber bridge at the crossing, slowly, breathing deeply, warning himself not to hurry.
As he could not, in any case, for from both sides of the road the sheep materialized once again, bleating lambs looking for their mothers, baaing mothers trying to find their lambs. The shepherd was across the pond, talking to someone at the inn, and the dog lay beside the road, nose on crossed paws, determined to take no responsibility for the shepherd’s inattention.
The horses stopped, stamping their feet, shaking their heads in irritation. The people at the inn looked up. Harnesses jingled; Bear allowed himself an epithet. The shepherd ran toward them, followed by half a dozen other men and women. Bear ground his teeth together, climbed down, made his way back beside the wagons, speaking to each driver. “No matter what happens, I want no appearance of surprise. Understand. Pretend you’re a hog in a mud pit, with no opinion about anything.”
Bear returned to his carriage. Help arrived to get in its own way and make the sheep mill about even more. Curious people moved along the wagons; one man in particular opened the door to the closed carriage, then shut it with a puzzled expression and walked very quickly away toward the inn.
The shepherd cursed his dog, who rose with excruciating slowness to curse the sheep before moving them off the road with one bark and several well-placed nips.
“I’m Benjobz,” said a cheery voice below Bear. “Where you headed?”
“The abbey up in the hills there,” said Bear politely.
“Heard there were people headed there. What’s all this transport?”
Bear shook his head in peevishness that held not one iota of pretense. “Furnishings and clothes and all sorts of whatnot for a child supposed to be going up to the abbey for schooling. She got frightened into hysterics back at the falls, scared she was going to go over the edge or something, so her nursemaids took three of the animals and hired some local’s wagon to return her to her cousin at Woldsgard until she settled down. They told us to take her baggage on where it’d be needed when the child finally learns to behave herself.”
“Ah, so that’s what’s left you short of animals,” said Benjobz. “It’ll be a hard haul for this few.”
“I know,” said Bear in genuine exasperation. “We may have to double-team the wagons one at a time over the steep places.”
“That’s a long journey made longer yet,” said Benjobz. “You want to come on over to the inn for a good meal? A little conviviality? There’s many a good game in our parlor after supper, and I’m told you’re a man who loves his cards.”
“Who told you that?”
“Don’t remember. Just some fellow you had a game with in Hay Town, said you were a good card player. Told me your name. Tingawan, aren’t you?”
Bear hesitated, tempted. But Precious Wind was out there on the hills and she’d . . . No. There’d be games at the abbey. He supposed he could wait. He growled, “What I want most is to get this job done so I can get home. Once the stuff is delivered, I’m headed for the islands.”
“Don’t like Norland, eh?”
“I just hate this cold.” Bear shivered. “Thanks for your offer, though. We may stop on the way back.” He beckoned with his whip hand, and the wagons moved slowly past the gathered sheep and the curious onlookers, over a rise, down into a swale, and up the other side, swinging right around a long upward curve and out of sight of anyone Benjobzish. They went on without stopping or talking about it until well after the sun had gone down.
As they unharnessed the horses, Bartelmy asked Bear, “When are the others rejoining us?”
“Variously, I should imagine,” Bear replied. “Tonight the man who was so curious about our carriages will tell the duchess what he’s seen. Then tonight or tomorrow she’ll send him or someone else on a fast horse to find where we’re camped and see if what her spy
told her is true. After we’re sure she’s convinced, we’ll let the women rejoin us. They aren’t far. Precious Wind has good camp craft, and they have ample supplies.”
“And that’s why we’re camped out here in the open? So anybody can look us over.”
Bear began to unharness the horses. “It may be too late for somebody to come after us tonight, but I’m betting on it. And even supposing no one comes until tomorrow, he’ll find us by noon at the latest, right? And he’ll follow until he sees only four of us. So it’s either tonight or tomorrow night.”
Bartelmy sighed, sharing a glance with Pecky and Mike. “And of course one of us is always lying up there in the trees, wide awake, to see when he does show up.”
“Of course,” said Bear absentmindedly, as though he didn’t care very much whether the duchess’s spy turned up or not.
Chapter 4
Becoming Xulai
Nettie Lean and the two Farrier brothers had saddled their mounts and tied them out in the forest. While they waited for darkness, they kept up the appearance of earning their keep by working for Benjobz, Nettie doing housemaid duty and the brothers putting together a row of stalls in a newly built barn. Through the barn’s open door they saw the encounter between the flock of sheep and the Woldsgard wagons, particularly noticing the lopsided fellow who walked by each equipage and opened the doors into the closed carriage though the windows were wide open for him to see inside.
“Who is that?” asked Clive.
“Fellow called Loppy,” said his brother around a mouth full of nails. “Says he’s the cellarer. Ast me all kinds of questions about our mama, up there at Wilderbrook.” He spat nails into his hand and jingled them nervously. “I told him we left her young, and that was a long time ago, and we didn’t know what she’d been up to since we left. When he ast about where all we went on those Port Lord ships, I told him we warn’t allowed to talk about where we went or what we stowed for fear of pirates and any of us talked about it got our tongues chopped out.”