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Kel smiled weakly, and went after him.
“Go,” said Adica to Beor. “You’re wounded. Carry what you can. I’ll bring up the rear.”
Beor had many flaws, but arguing when he was wounded and their party possibly trapped was not one of them. They crept forward through the low passageway with the dogs in the lead.
The passage struck straight, only a few smaller tunnels branching off. In time, the ceiling lifted and they could walk upright, although never more than single file. After some time Beor tired, and they rested, sharing drink and food. They walked again, and rested again. The loss of Kel’s provisions hurt them; they only had enough to gnaw off the edge of their hunger, not to satisfy it.
They spoke little. Beor had enough to do to keep going, and the silence and darkness frightened Kel too much to break it with words. Now and again Alain whistled softly under his breath. At intervals he would call lightly ahead to the dogs but otherwise he, too, remained silent.
Adica worried. Would the Cursed Ones stumble upon them, here in the dark? If they knew who and what she was, then had they kidnapped her six comrades as well? If there were not seven to cast the spell, then the spell would fail and the Cursed Ones would spread their empire of blood and sacrifice and slavery across all human lands.
Worst of all, did they understand what the human sorcerers meant to do? Had they learned the secret of the looms? Humankind could never triumph if they lost the power of the looms.
These troubled thoughts distracted her. She didn’t hear the scrabbling behind her until it was too late. An object, then a second, fell heavily at her heels, knocking her forward. She cried out just as Alain exclaimed out loud ahead of her. A dog barked, and Alain’s light vanished.
She whirled with her spear raised to face the threat from behind, but nothing stirred in the black tunnel. Finally, hearing Beor question her, she knelt. Feeling along the floor, she discovered their lost torches, the ones that had fallen into the crevasse. A moment later she realized she could see her hand as a pale blur.
“Hallowed One! We’ve found a way out!” Kel called from up ahead. She gathered up the torches and followed the sound of his voice. He was helping Beor up a rugged slope of rock. At its top, light bled through tree roots. By getting purchase with one foot on the rocks and grasping the stout tree roots in a hand, she was able to drag herself up into a dense copse. The light hurt her eyes despite the protection of leaves. By the position of the sun she judged it around midday, but they had been so long underground that she supposed an entire day and night had passed since the raid. She gulped down cool, fresh air.
With some difficulty, they got the hounds out and helped Beor climb out as well. Finally, they all lay on a hillside in the cover of the trees, panting. She wanted to laugh, out of relief, but dared not. Their enemies might be lurking nearby. Kel took a spear and went scouting, and after some time returned triumphantly with an escort of six astonished White Deer tribespeople.
“We’re nearby to Four Houses!” Kel exclaimed, and with Ulfrega and her companions as an escort, they walked to the safety of the other village. A healer tended to Beor. A Swift was sent to Queens’ Grave to deliver the message that Adica had been found. The Four Houses folk knew how to lay out a good feast: freshly killed boar and venison, pears and apples stewed into a potage, bread, and barley porridge sweetened with honey. Beer flowed freely, and the tale was told at length, and then a second time when the most experienced of the Four Houses warriors asked for more details.
What weapons did the Cursed Ones use? What of these clubs borne by the Wise Ones? Did the under hill people have eyes, or were they blind? Was it true they could not speak? Had the foreigner been enchanted by the Wise Ones, or was he simply a sorcerer himself, hoarding great power? Could Four Houses take one of the bronze spears in exchange for the hospitality they had shown to the Hallowed One this day?
In return, Beor scolded them for their unfinished palisade, and Kel gained a circle of admiring youths who wanted to hear all about his heroic efforts. Alain sat quietly. He was too strange a figure to be fawned over, nor did he seem to care that he was left alone to attend to his food. Certainly he had become accustomed to being stared at. Now and again Adica caught him looking at her, and each time her heart beat a little harder for thinking of what might yet come to pass. For her own part, she waited with mounting impatience for the return of the Swift. The youth returned in the late afternoon: a large escort would come from Queens’ Grave tomorrow to escort the Hallowed One back to her own village. The Walking One known as Dorren waited for her there; he had brought a message from Falling-down.
She passed a fretful night and in the morning paced restively while Kel and Alain helped the Four Houses villagers raise the log walls of their palisade and Beor rested. At last the escort came, overjoyed to see her and flush with the news that none of the injured people at Queens’ Grave had died in the attack or caught a festering infection in their wounds. The march back to the village passed swiftly, and in the village itself, still marked by the recent battle, roasting and baking went on at a great rate in preparation for a celebratory feast on the morrow.
Dorren waited on the bench in the council house, sipping at beer. How eagerly he greeted her!
“Hallowed One!” He could not touch her. Standing beside the table, he contented himself with turning his mug around, and around again, with his good hand. “I bring a message from Falling-down, but I feared I came too late when I arrived here and heard the news of the attack.” He glanced past her and flushed, eyes widening with surprise, as Alain entered the council house. “This is the foreigner. Just as Falling-down predicted. He saw this one in a dream.”
“Did he?” A knot curled in her gut. Falling-down had the gift of prophetic dreaming, and if he spoke against Alain’s presence, then even Mother Orla might go back on her agreement.
“He saw a foreign man stumble weeping through a gateway of blue fire, with two hounds at his side. There was a creature beside him, with flaming wings, one of the gods’ servants.”
“He came here through the loom. The Holy One brought him.”
“Truly, Falling-down did not know whether he had had a vision of the past, or of the future. He said I must journey here to look at this foreign man myself, and to bring you a message.”
Adica did not look again at Alain. She did not need to. She knew exactly where he stood in relation to her; she felt him take the mug of beer offered to him by Mother Orla’s granddaughter, Getsi, and thought perhaps she could taste the bite of it on his lips as he drank. “What message?”
Dorren composed himself, going still as he brought the words to his tongue. She saw, in his face, the qualities that had attracted her to him, gentleness, intelligence, and wit, but somehow he seemed, not diminished, but set in shadow, now that she had seen Alain. When Dorren spoke, he did so in the singsong voice used by most Walking Ones to deliver their memorized messages. His good hand wove little pantomimes as he spoke, each one helping him to recall.
“Falling-down of the Fen tribe speaks these words to Adica of the White Deer people. Shu-Sha of the Copper people sends this warning to her sisters and brothers.” His hand fluttered like a crane, which flies easily and which because of its alert disposition cannot easily be surprised. “The Cursed Ones have discovered that we are leagued against them. They may strike at any time, from any direction. Be vigilant.” He made the sign for a hawk, striking unexpectedly. “Horn believes the Cursed Ones know the secret of the loom and hoard it until they will strike all at once against each one of us, but Brightness-Hears-Me speaks these words in disagreement: a man may see holy blood come forth from a woman, but that does not mean he can make it come forth from his own body. Two Fingers has seen disturbances in the deep places. Beware above ground and below, for the Cursed Ones have the power to strike from any place. Fortify your dwelling places, and make fast your houses. Retire to the wilderness, or ring your encampment with charms. Do not walk the looms except in dire need. If the Cursed Ones have unraveled the secret of the looms, then no person who walks the looms will be safe from them. Send the Walking Ones if there is need for a message. Be like the griffins, who watch their eggs carefully against the lion: Guard yourself well until the day that is coming, when we will act.”
She gave him peace to drink after he finished speaking, but she could not stop from shifting restlessly from one foot to the other, waiting for him to down the mug of beer. When he had recovered, she spoke. “Yet the Cursed Ones struck here. If they had wanted slaves, they would have carried off many, yet they only took me.”
“Then what Shu-Sha fears is already coming to pass,” said Dorren. “We had heard no report of any disturbances when I left the fens, but by the moon I would say that three days passed while I stepped through the looms.”
“You must return quickly to see if anything has befallen Falling-down. Tell him what happened here, and let the Walking Ones take this story to my sisters and brothers, so they can know the danger that awaits us.”
“Those words I will carry back to Falling-down. What of our allies, the Horse people?”
“The Holy One sometimes visits this place at the full moon. I wait for her then.” Dorren nodded. She looked back, wondering at the silence behind her, to see Alain listening intently. His expression burned with frustration as he shook his head and, with a grimace, set down his cup.
assed a fretful night and in the morning paced restively while Kel and Alain helped the Four Houses villagers raise the log walls of their palisade and Beor rested. At last the escort came, overjoyed to see her and flush with the news that none of the injured people at Queens’ Grave had died in the attack or caught a festering infection in their wounds. The march back to the village passed swiftly, and in the village itself, still marked by the recent battle, roasting and baking went on at a great rate in preparation for a celebratory feast on the morrow.
