Beside her, Maia said softly, 'They are fools to set forth anywhere this late in the day.'
Aide shook her head. 'They had planned to be gone at noon. I don't know what
delayed them.'
Gil did, but held her peace. The latest quarrel between Alwir and Govannin had left its marks; though the force around the empty forage-wagons looked formidable, she would have doubled it, had it been up to her. She, too, remembered the farms burned by the Raiders.
The Bishop of Penambra did not move until the last wagon and the last of the rearguard had vanished into the obscurity of the snowy woods. Then he said, 'So they do not only harvest - they glean also, so that those who follow after must make a meal off the chaff.'
Aide glanced up at his tall figure, her face flushed with shame. She stammered, 'We - we have need of all we can find. Alwir is raising an army, sending to the Emperor of Alketch for troops. They will burn out the Nests of the Dark at Gae, and so establish a place of safety from which we can reconquer the earth from the Dark.'
The straggly eyebrows raised, sending a whole laddering of wrinkles up the high forehead. 'On several occasions the Empire of Alketch has been likened to the Devil, my lady, and it is true in this regard: they say that the Devil cannot enter any man's house unless he is first bidden, but afterward, no man may bid him to leave. I think your brother would profit to take in the seven hundred or so warriors left to me, who are loyal to the heir of the House of Dare, before he gives his bread to enemies.'
'My brother says...' Aide began. She stopped, too ashamed to go on.
'Your brother is a man who keeps his own counsel,' Maia finished gently. He reached out his big, bony hand with its two crippled fingers, to rest on the black, soft fur that fell over her shoulders. 'I understand, my lady. But speak to him for us. Tell him he will need our swords. Tell him anything. We cannot hold out here long, and there is no place on the face of the earth left to which we can go.'
'I will tell him.' Aide looked up into the gaunt, waxy face towering above her own.
'Speak for us,' Maia said, 'and if ever you should need them, my lady, you may count on our swords and our hearts.'
'We can't just leave them to starve!' Aide said fiercely. The twilight of the lonely road had closed down around them. Evening lay like a veil over the dark trees.
'Alwir can,' Gil pointed out.
'He wouldn't!'
'He's already done it. To bring in the Penambrans without starving our own people, Alwh^ would have to institute some kind of rationing system. Govannin will never stand for that.'
'But she's the Bishop!' Minalde insisted passionately. 'She's the head of the Church!'
'Sure,' Gil agreed coldbloodedly. 'You think she's going to welcome another Bishop into her bailiwick? And a commoner at that?' Gil had learned enough of the
name structures in the Wathe to recognize what that 'of Thran' meant on the end of Maia's name: farmboy; plough-tailer; sharecropper, maybe; someone to be looked down upon by those scions of the ancient Houses who could boast that semiroyal 'ion' tacked on to their titles.
Aide sighed dispiritedly. 'I wish you wouldn't say things like that.'
'I can't help it.' Gil shrugged. 'I'm a born devil's advocate. I'm not saying it can't be done.' Something rustled among the dark trees, and Gil swung her attention to the sound. An owl flitted silently from a branch. She turned back, trying to pretend her heart wasn't doing double time. 'Alwir has a point - you have to draw lines somewhere,' she went on. 'But there's room in the Keep, if the newcomers don't mind living up in the back reaches of the fourth level or under the tiles on the fifth. And I'm not sure what the foragers Alwir's sending out will find. If there's plenty of forage stored in the valleys, it could make a lot of difference, and it's something he isn't taking into account. Okay, maybe he's thinking worstcase.' She shrugged again. 'But I know damn well all the food in the Keep hasn't been reported and isn't in the main depots. Walking patrol, I've come across dozens of deserted cells that are all locked up and barred, and I'd be willing to bet that, come spring when everybody's starving, people like Alwir's friends Bendle Stooft and Mongo Rabar are going to make a sudden bundle. But I'm not an expert.'
Aide frowned. 'If the Penambrans do come, where can we store the food? They'll need all that space to live in.'
'Easy,' Gil said. 'Put it outside. That's been talked of before - build a giant compound out past the cattle byres and wall it against deer and wolves. The Dark don't eat dead meat or grain.'
'Do you think Alwir will?
'Alwir would love it. He would be tickled to death to know where all the food in the Keep is. Govannin will block it, and they'll start fighting over whether the Keep needs all those nonwarriors.'
Aide looked at her reproachfully. 'Has anyone ever told you that your logic is appalling?
Gil grinned in the dusk. 'Why do you think I never got married?' She stopped, catching Aide's arm to make her halt also. But the sound she'd heard had only been the sigh of wind, rubbing bare branches in the icy cold. She was aware that it was suddenly very dark. They went on, quickening their pace.
'There,' she said as they rounded a curve in the slushy road. Far off against the black flank of the mountains, a square of reddish light was visible. 'They'll have built fires around the doors and left them open.'
'They can't do that!' Aide protested. 'It's against Keep Law! If the Dark came in force...'
'It means they know you're gone,' Gil said quietly and glanced up at the leaden sky. On either side of the road, the trees had faded into misty darkness, forming a
murky cathedral through whose endless mazes of dark pillars an occasional black-flecked beech shone like silver in the gloom. The last fading of the daylight would leave them walking almost blindly.
'But Tir's in there,' Aide insisted. It was like her, Gil thought wryly, to think of her child before her own safety. 'Alwir should have...'
'Oh, come on,' Gil said roughly. 'Do you really think he would?' She stopped again, this time certain. She could feel it in her veins, a rush of electricity that had very little fear in it. Gooseflesh rose on her arms. Like the breath of agelong night, she felt the restless stirring of air on her cheek.
She sensed a movement in the air above; but looking up, she saw only the blackness of clouds. Yet she felt something in the shadows, haunting the snowy darkness with malignant watchfulness. In the utter silence, the faint ringing of her drawn sword seemed very loud.
'There!' Aide whispered. Gil swung around and saw the drift of darkness like a ghost above the snow. Sinuous, inhuman, it flickered into brief visibility and was gone. Without being certain why she did so, Gil turned and glimpsed something - the suggestion of anomalous motion, the flick of snow swirling against the drift of the breeze - to their right. But it faded, like a word whispered into darkness.
Then something dropped from the dark air above, something that splattered acid from a monstrous mouth to melt the snow in stinging rain, something that stank of blood and darkness. Gil's sword whined faintly, a blur of razor-bright steel cleaving the sooty protoplasm and dousing them both in a stream of foul and gritty black water that gushed from the wound. She saw the creature now as it swung through the air, a formless darkness that grew as it moved, the catch of crustaceous pincers and the long, sudden slash of a spined tail, coiling like a whip and thicker than a man's forearm. She hacked downward, severing six feet of that thrashing cable, which began at once to disintegrate. Like a howling storm of silence, the creature turned on her, the dripping tentacles of its mouth reaching out for her, an eldritch, all-swallowing cloud of night. She slashed into the darkness, stepping into the slimy welter of beating membranes and knowing, the instant before her sword cleaved the thing, that she had it and had it clean. Then the sticky remnants of the severed creature were streaming and folding messily around her like wet, dissolving sheets in the wind. The snow around them stank.