"Morrow to you both," said one of the two, smiling in a cold detached way that made Chlorien give a shiver - his eyes, reminiscent of dead fish, stared interestedly from one to the other.
"And to you," responded the scholar amiably. Chlorien correctly kept her head respectfully lowered.
"Where are you bound and do you travel alone, may we ask?" queried the same man, his voice harsh and southern guttural.
"Likewise yourselves," replied the scholar politely. He saw a shadow cross the man's features but ignored it, merely turning his horse so that he faced the men directly. Quietly, Chlorien turned her horse as well.
"We seek a young girl," said the spokesman, his eyes flickering to Chlorien. "She'd be about the lad's age, perhaps a little older and dark-haired too." The speaker was thoughtful, his eyes dwelling on Chlorien. "Darker than the lad, as I recall," he added. "Have you come across a young one of that description?" Autoc mused briefly.
"A girl?" He shook his head and turned to Chlorien. "Have you seen one, lad?" He grinned over her head at the men when she shook her head. "Not but what you'd notice at your age, lad, would you?" He winked at the riders. "Too young yet," he suggested to them. "He needs a cycle or three to be interested in girls." The two riders reluctantly smiled at that and spurred their horses closer.
"Are you stopping, by any chance?" asked the spokesman. "We've been riding alone for a long time and would appreciate company, especially to travel with. You and the boy been far, have you?"
"My son and I are on our way home. We did business in Lenten in Samar a-whiles back."
"Ah," murmured the speaker. He watched as Autoc dismounted and signalled to Chlorien that she do likewise. When she did, the scholar handed her his reins.
"Water them properly, lad, and brush them down. You can give them feed when you've done that."
Chlorien murmured assent and quietly led the horses down to the river they travelled alongside. It was a small and sluggish river, that came south from the Cartokian mountains. From what started up there in northern Ambros as a huge, broad river, ended further south in Sindabar as a mud flat.
She crouched down on the shingle at the edge to let the horses drink their fill and, since she'd sensibly brought their water skins at the same time, she filled those too. She took the reins again, leading the horses back to where the scholar dismounted. Casually he looked up and indicated, with an offhand wave of his hand, that she was to tether the horses to a small rather scrubby group of trees a short distance beyond him where she noticed they'd be well away from the mounts of their two visitors.
The scholar had already set camp. A fire blazed even though it was very hot. He looked indifferently at Chlorien as she returned, so she took the hint, not speaking while she searched through the saddlebags for the horse brush and a cloth, then, when she found them, she went straight back to the horses.
The two strangers were hunkered down in front of the blaze as though they were cold. That interested Autoc. So these were southern men from somewhere very warm, were they? It fitted with what the scholar already suspected. Though he smiled affably enough, his eyes were stony hard. It may have been cloudy with a brisk wind blowing, but the air was mild and balmy.
Autoc pretended not to notice the men and because they sensed no alarm or curiosity from him, they relaxed. This gave Autoc an excellent opportunity to study them. He disliked what he saw. The speaker was tall and thin with a face that looked as if it'd been squashed inwards, the eyes set very close together almost at the bridge of a pointed nose. The gap between nose and lips was deep and the mouth was a thin line. The scholar could discern little colour in eyes that looked hollow, cold and hard as ebonite. They were emotionless. The man's hair was wispy and hung to his shoulders in lank strands. He was quite unprepossessing.
The second man was short and squat, his fat gut bulging through his shirt. He had a fringe of yellowish hair that surrounded a bald and shiny pate, large protruding ears and a sweaty pasty countenance. The yellow-tinged eyes darted restlessly. The mouth was full and self-indulgent, the pudgy hands were never still, his clothes were covered with food stains and he smelled as much, if not more, than the speaker. Both had some blackened teeth and their breaths stank.
Autoc surveyed them calmly while he put on water to boil, his apparent lack of concern showing in everything he did. Chlorien followed his example. She collected feed for the horses and ignored the men as she trudged off yet again. When she returned, she spoke quietly to the scholar who nodded.
"Go and sit and pour that water over the taksh for our visitors, lad." The scholar's voice was expressionless.
Chlorien sat opposite the men and obeyed the scholar, stirring in meme, a root sweetener she'd earlier watched Autoc distil. She lifted two mugs and held them out to the men, pretending not to notice the sharp look she got from each of them. Autoc came to the fire with generous slices of loaf that he handed round.
"Now," he said amiably, as he lounged down by the fire, but not too close, and his eyes lazily watched the flames. "I'm Schol and this is my lad Lorien. Who are you then?"
Chlorien didn't even blink at her name change. The two men glanced at each other and the fat one shrugged.
"I," he said, in an oddly light voice, "am Ohb and my travelling companion is Queeb." Autoc lifted his head to study them casually.
"How long have you been travelling?"
"Oh, a long time," Ohb said vaguely, waving his pudgy hands about. He dribbled, Chlorien noticed, when he ate.
"Are you from the south then? Your accent suggests that's so."
"Yes," answered Queeb, glaring at Ohb whose face twitched.
"Ah," mumbled Autoc. "So you're not that far ahead of your compatriots." The two men looked at each other again.
"What?" asked Ohb in a confused voice.
"The southern army," explained the scholar innocently, opening his eyes very wide.
"Oh them," chuckled Queeb. "We're not with them."
"Ah," murmured Autoc, biting into a generous slice of loaf. He looked at Chlorien. "Come along boy, eat." He looked then at the two men. "Boys! They stay thin for so long and this one has much growing left to do if he is going to be my height. I do feed him, I assure you."
"He's a fine-looking lad, though," responded Queeb, his gaze settling on her. "Your only one, is he?" Autoc looked surprised, then he burst out laughing.
"Lorien? No, no, he's the middle one. I take this one with me because he's a willing enough lad and likes to travel, don't you, boy?"
"Aye, Father." Not knowing where to look, Chlorien ate her loaf.
"Not one for his books are you, lad?" teased the scholar, patting her shoulder. Chlorien shook her head. She promptly choked on a crumb.
"Where are you from, Schol?" asked Ohb, taking tentative sips of taksh.
"Here and there," answered the scholar, brightly and glibly. "Lots to sell and see in Sindabar and beyond. Guess it won't be that way in Samar anymore though, will it?"
"In what way?" demanded Queeb, his eyes predatory and his body tense.
"With the southern army," said Autoc ingenuously. Queeb and Ohb exchanged glances.
"Oh them, yes," replied Queeb dismissively. Queeb moved to look more closely at Chlorien. "How old are you, boy?" Chlorien stared up at the thin face and meeting the eyes full, she shrugged.
"Father?" she asked, turning to look at him. She caught the smile that briefly touched his eyes.
"Oh aye, boy, I forget." He thought for a moment. "You're all of nine cycles, lad, at least nine and not more, because your mam was with Rodu when you were five cycles. And Rodu's now, what, three, or is it four cycles?" Autoc looked blandly at the men, adding, "So the lad here must be all of nine cycles."
Queeb's interest in Chlorien slightly abated and he shrugged as Chlorien had earlier. The conversation ranged over where they all hoped to travel and where the scholar and his son had roamed, Queeb especially interested in being told of the herbs, spices and medicinal remedies Schol claimed
he traded. Then the scholar sensed a change in the men when he asked about the girl they sought.
"It seems odd, if you'll forgive my saying so," he said courteously, "that two older men should seek a young girl. How old is she?"
"She'd be over eleven cycles now," responded Ohb on a growl.
"Why do you seek her?"
"We seek her for one who's both a need and a use for her. She belongs to one in the south." Autoc raised his eyebrows.
"Has she escaped custody?"
"In a manner of speaking," spat Ohb. "Once we find her we'll teach her to mind how she goes with older men. We'll enjoy instructing her, in every possible way, won't we, Queeb?"
"Aye," snarled Queeb. "Taking her will be a pleasure."
Autoc helped himself to more taksh, his head bent, so the men didn't see the look on the mage's face. He took Chlorien's mug and refilled it, generously sweetening the taksh, before putting the mug into hands that started to tremble. The drink steadied her. Their visitors declined any further liquids. They sat morosely watching Chlorien and her father munch their way through loaf as if they were in no hurry at all; father and son gave the impression of not having a care in Ambros.
Chlorien threw herself onto her stomach and began to draw pictures on the ground. She seemed totally absorbed in what she was doing. Autoc lounged back on his elbows, his expression bland as he puffed contentedly at his pipe. The two men got increasingly uncomfortable and restless, finally suggesting that travel should be resumed. They asked if company was needed. Cocking an eyebrow at them, Autoc rolled onto his left elbow, his voice sounded amused and he didn't answer directly.
"You ready to move on, are you? Where are you headed now?"
Ohb mumbled something incoherent and Queeb coughed as he got to his feet. He helped Ohb rise and dusted the fat fellow down, before he turned to glance at the somnolent scholar.
"Are you moving on, too?" he asked impatiently.
"No," answered Autoc, settling himself more comfortably. "Me and the lad'll probably stay on for a bit. It's pleasant and it's quiet." He gestured at the trees and the grass. The two men looked uncertain. Ohb appeared to be nonplussed.
"Well then," muttered Queeb, with his eyes half-shut. "We'll have to leave you."
"Aye," agreed the scholar equably. "It was a change meeting up with folks so out of the way." Queeb pushed a complaining Ohb in front of him.
"We'll meet again," he said, a menacing edge to his voice.
"Oh, I hope so," responded the scholar, closing his eyes. With eyes that were hard and forbidding, Queeb stared down at the boy lying flat on her stomach.
"Till next time, boy."
Chlorien glanced up, nodded and went back to her drawing. She and the scholar heard the two men argue vociferously and aggressively as they went across to their horses and mounted. Chlorien didn't look up until she heard hooves pound the turf. Autoc spoke quietly and quickly.
"Mind closed, child, send nothing," he warned as the dark head was raised. She obeyed and sank back onto the ground soundlessly. It was some minutes before the scholar touched her shoulder. "Still closed, lad," he cautioned, watching as Chlorien sat. "Gently, lad, gently. Come to me." Chlorien thankfully crawled into his lap. The scholar held and rocked her. "You're quite safe with me, lad." With one hand he took off her cap and ran his fingers through her hair. "Hush, child."
"They have power, haven't they?" Chlorien clung to him. "I felt it. The tall one knows something."
"Yes, little one, they have power," agreed Autoc. He glanced down at the dark head. "You did very well, child. I'm proud of you because that was no easy game to play. They didn't guess you weren't a boy, but they're confused and suspicious." Chlorien hiccupped.
"You told such lies."
"It can be useful," he admitted, a twinkle in his eyes. "I'd no idea I was such an accomplished liar, or how enjoyable lying can be." He began to chuckle and that made Chlorien give a watery laugh. "It's better, child, that they ride in front of us rather than behind. I like to know where they are. That's why I allowed them to approach." Chlorien didn't speak for a time but when she did it was in a small voice.
"They'd hurt me. Do you know who they are, Father?"
"I can hazard a very shrewd guess, little one." She noticed his voice was very harsh.
"Who are they?" Autoc put his finger to her lips and shook his head.
"Let's talk of something else."
To the scholar's surprise Chlorien acquiesced, merely snuggling in close. Autoc clasped both arms firmly round her, hearing as he did so the faint cross between a sigh and a whimper.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Not only did the scholar avoid all people where possible, he only went towards habitation when it was unavoidable. Unless they needed to refurnish supplies, he ignored charming fishing villages and appealing hamlets where houses nestled invitingly. Since the main cities of Sindabar were away from the coast, Autoc followed the coastline.
He knew Queeb and Ohb headed west because he kept his mind attuned to their whereabouts, but fully expected that sooner or later they'd have another unavoidable meeting with the two men because they were suspicious. He inwardly sighed. Chlorien didn't speak of them again but the scholar knew she often thought of them, and he also sensed she was deeply and justifiably afraid. He reassured her, but found words didn't help. Finally, Autoc entered her mind while she was asleep, to ease her anxiety, and this seemed mostly to settle her though the scholar sometimes saw her stare into the distance, an uncertain expression on her face.
The route they followed was breathtakingly beautiful. They rode along cliff tops. They paused frequently to stare out at a sea that seemed to touch the sky on the horizon and watched the sea's moods when the weather changed, the deep blue changing to sullen, restless grey. The white-tipped waves crashed below and sent up spume.
When they travelled further, the land was barren and rugged with rocks and grassy scrub. It looked wild and barely touched by those who lived here. It was an untamed landscape. Its hostility suited Autoc's mood, Chlorien thought, as they rode past the outskirts of yet another fishing village, the scholar preoccupied and his gaze over the sea an abstracted one.
This late afternoon it was cold with a strong inshore wind buffeting the headland they were on. Autoc unexpectedly drew up his horse. His head turned from side to side as if he listened, then his eyes turned back to the sea that grew wilder as the day progressed. Though it was only early autumn, the sky was leaden and threatening and it made the scholar draw his cloak more securely around him. He stayed still. His horse stamped its feet and tossed its head. The wind strengthened too.
"Child," the scholar mindspoke Chlorien.
"Father," she responded immediately.
"We'll seek shelter, lad. There's a very nasty storm blowing in from the northwest." Chlorien gritted her teeth against a cold gust that almost tore her cloak away. She grasped at it, pulling it tightly about her. "Turn, Chlorien," she was instructed, "and follow closely."
The scholar spurred his horse from the headland as he spoke, his attention turned to a tiny village crouched in a cove some distance ahead and well below them. The way down was decidedly hazardous. The path was very narrow with stones and rocks that dislodged under the horses' hooves and made them nervous. It was also dangerously precipitous, both the scholar and Chlorien holding their mounts on tight reins as they went single file. The path wound tortuously. The sky darkened. It was a long descent that tried the patience of horses, and man and girl, alike.
Once they reached the bottom, they found the path levelled to an uneven sprinkling of pebbles over which they could walk the horses quite easily. The storm gathered momentum. When Chlorien and the scholar neared the village, large splats of icy rain caught them as they tried to hug the cliff face they rode under for shelter. Thunder rolled and growled and the sea roared and smashed angrily around the nearby rocks. The wind began to howl.
Chlorien's mount sidled and plunged, disturbed by the noise of
the elements. Autoc sharply sent to her that she ride in as close to him as she could, and at the same time he edged her closer to the cliff face, catching at her reins as soon as he was near enough.
"Climb onto my horse," he ordered, in a voice sharpened by concern. "In front of me." She scrambled clear of her horse and managed to settle herself, though she shivered with the cold and the effort it'd taken to hold a horse by far too big and strong. "Courage, little one," came to her mind. "We're almost there."
Ten minutes later brought lights clearly into view and shortly afterwards, Chlorien and the scholar entered the village. Though it was only late afternoon the natural light was abnormally dim and all outside activity had ceased, assorted boats scattered along the shore and lying about randomly, as if they'd been hauled in at speed and then left. The quayside was deserted.
The village was a collection of cottages built of assorted materials that'd been available at the time. Many were stone. The village was quite haphazard in arrangement and could, the scholar thought, be charming in pleasanter weather. Some cottages even cheekily perched up the cliff face itself, but they looked perilous.
Autoc was concerned to get Chlorien under shelter, well aware now that the girl didn't cope especially well with the cold. He drew up at the nearest cottage and dismounted, pulled Chlorien down, drew her in close beside him and, holding the horses' reins in a firm grasp, leaned forward and rapped sharply on the door. To his surprise, it was opened immediately by a boy aged around four cycles who stood there staring up at the travellers in silence, his eyes round. The scholar frowned deeply. When the door blew back on its hinges, a woman's cross voice called out.
"Who is it?"
"Strangers," answered Autoc. "We seek shelter from the storm." The woman stalked to the door and pulled the little boy back.
"No strangers," she snapped, as she slammed the door and sent the bolt home.
Autoc stood pensively, Chlorien held close against his chest. He sighed. He was about to remount the horse when he heard a quiet voice behind him. He swung round.