AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“’Tis nothing ill, my lady.” The Elder spoke quietly, as if I were another creature to be soothed. Or perhaps his tone could be described as tentative; I could not decide. “Merely something natural, to aid and comfort the horses. I think your people call such thingsseidhrnow?”
“I know how to calm a pony.”Little different than a sheep, though goats are slightly harder.I could not ask directly, but I could certainly compliment. “I was admiring the care you take with their hocks.”
“Would you like to learn?” A slight smile, a beckoning motion.
The Northerners paid no attention. I looked to Arn, whose coppery eyebrows rose. Of course I wanted to learn, what did this fellow thinkvolvameant?
I brushed at my mantle-sleeve, working a small piece of solidified snow free. “What is the price?”
“Slight indeed, it takes nothing from me or the horse. Come, I shall show you.”
I hesitated. Perhaps he did not understand, or he wished to show a pittance before asking payment for the bulk of the knowledge? Idra had warned me about such transactions more than once; curiosity may lead even a wisewoman to pay more than she should. Barter is not merely for ale and skins, as the saying goes. “I have little to trade for the knowledge, my lord.”
“Trade for…” He cocked his dark head, momentary puzzlement wrinkling a smooth brow. It made him appear a little older—but only a little. “I would not take payment for the teaching, if that is what you ask. My people prefer to share what we can.”
My people, he said? “Elder.” I did not mean to make the word a challenge. But I ached from riding, we were far from home, and though I wished for these men to underestimate me I did not like the idea of being considered wholly stupid. “You do not mask what you are, here.”
“There is no need when among friends,” Aeredh agreed, cheerfully. Eol’s horse lowered his head over the not-youth’s shoulder, letting out a companionable sigh. “In the South, things are sometimes otherwise. Do you fear my kind?”
How was I meant to answer such a question? “Until a few days ago I would have said the Elder had all vanished, gone to the uttermost West.” My chin lifted slightly, and Idra would have sighed at the motion, sensing some manner of mutiny almost before I knew my own mind. “So we are taught, and told as well that the Black Land’s malice is spent, a myth to frighten children with.”
Oh, a weregild must be decorous. But he had begun this conversation, and my brother had not felledhiskin. I was still being polite, as such things went.
Barely, but enough.
Arn turned away, her back to me as she finished shaking her stiffness away. She had sparred with him once; now was my chance.
“There were some among us who thought the same a few mortal lifetimes ago.” Aeredh’s hand rose, stroking the horse’s cheek much as my mother might an inquisitive hound’s. “I am real enough, as you see. It… gladdens me, that there are places the Shadow does not touch.”
Eol had uttered the same words, but not so wistfully. It was not quite an answer. Politeness forbade me from observing as much, so I held my tongue—and was soon glad of it, for Aeredh continued.
“We are on an errand of great secrecy, and speed is essential. Our former companions continue south to gather what allies they may, but our path is otherwise. The Hidden Ways were a risk, for any word uttered there may ring in an unfriendly ear indeed. Even here there are spies and other dangers, so we travel with much care between strongholds.” He smiled, and it was strange to see such a being look… uncertain? “In any case, it ill becomes me to ask any price for the teaching of a precious guest. If you care to learn, daughter of Gwendelint, I shall show you what I may.”
Wasprecious guesttheir term for weregild? I could find nothing unmannerly in his words, nor in his expression. An Elder, offering to teach meseidhr—it boggled the mind, and anything seeming so good must be examined from every angle to make certain there is no hidden hook within.
“I am a slow student.” I had never sounded so tentative with Idra, but then again, my parents paid her well for tutelage, and ’tis an honor to teach another, as the proverbs say. “But a weregild must be useful. I would like to help the horses, my lord Aeredh, and I thank you for the offer.”
With that, ’twas done, and there was no space nor lee for him to demand payment afterward. So it was I learned how to pass my hand down a creature’s limb, pushing away ice and weariness, as well asa very subtle, simpleseidhrfor speaking to horses as the Elder do. Once I saw the method I wondered that it had never occurred to me before, and wished Idra was still alive so I could share it with her. Arn shook her head at my disbelieving grin, watching me stroke between Farsight’s great brown eyes, half-closed with enjoyment, and Aeredh commented, very prettily, that I learned quickly.
For all that, I did not see how the Northerners produced the fodder, nor did they speak further of the Black Land. And they were never out of easy earshot, even when Arn and I retreated to the surprisingly deep pile of sap-fragrant boughs, the Northerners’ bedrolls draped over it to provide cushion and insulation. Even with our mantles and under every horse-blanket it was still a cold bed, and I managed only a fitful doze, waking at intervals to use deep circular warming breaths.
Each time I did Arn was solidly asleep, a shieldmaid’s hardiness far greater than mine; Aeredh was near the fire, feeding its bluish glitter and humming softly as an occasional howl lifted to the cold, overcast sky.
And the wolves of Naras were nowhere in sight.
There was no sparring-yard, but my shieldmaid was making do. Since she had already tested Aeredh, naturally she would turn to the others for some practice, and Efain had the honor the next morning.
Their feet sank in soft snow outside the bounds of the stone-floored wayrest, but there are ways to fight even while mired, and my Arneior knows them all. She slipped aside as Efain lunged, his sword glittering even in the dull grey of an overcast morn, and a great spray of snow rose as she skidded to a halt, fending him off with such speed her spear seemed to bend like a willow branch. It was an illusion, the eye not quick enough to track its quarry, but still marvelous to see.
My braids were only slightly loosened, but the warming breath was not helping as much as it could. I shivered even with my gloved hands wrapped about a heavy mug of warmed ale. It is the best thing upon a winter morn, and all our skins had been refilled bydistillations of Lady Hajithe’s making, with a distinctive tang to its afterbreath. Still, I had to hold my nose to drink the last half of the cup’s cargo, and could not help but grimace.
“My lady?” Soren’s heavy eyebrows raised; he hovered at a polite distance, leaning anxiously over his boot-toes. His handling of our language was heavily accented, to match his stocky frame. “Is it too warm, or not hot enough?”
I shook my head, exhaling sharply and lowering the mug as a fast light chiming echoed from the combatants. It was more like dance than a fight, though I had only ever seen feast-brawls and the occasional ill-tempered bout sparked by some insult or another between touchy warriors. Their blades barely touched before springing apart, and while Arneior wore only a look of fierce concentration, Efain’s scars were flushed and he scowled in reply, though perhaps he was simply surprised at her skill.
“’Tis very good.” I enunciated clearly, wishing they would speak more in the Old Tongue. Still, with Aeredh willing to teach me Elderseidhr—however small—and Arneior learning how our captors liked to fight, we were doing quite well. “I have never been overfond of ale… Soren, is it?”
“Aye.” He bobbed, not quite a bow but certainly more than a nod. He looked a little like Flokin’s nephew Wulfgir, who blushed if anything female even breathed in his direction. “An honor to be named.”
