“Wait,” said Gudrin. She raised up a thick-fingered hand. “You must not confront the shirik now. It is weak so far from home, I'm sure, but not so weak as to fall to an honest crossbow bolt or dagger.”
“I didn't want to kill the man,” said Jak, a bit taken aback. “I just wanted to warn him off.”
Gudrin nodded. “It is not a man. It is a shirik — a shade, as you would call it in your tongue. A powerful servant of the Enemy. This one you saw, that Modi has already unwisely named, is the Enemy's bard.”
“The Enemy? Do you mean Herla?” asked Brand.
Gudrin raised her hands to her face and made shushing motions. “Shhh! Don't speak his name aloud with one of his servants near!”
All the River Folk stared at her with mouths open. Brand had heard stories of bogies such as the dreaded shades, free agents of Herla and his Wild Hunt, but the idea that there was one of them stalking about outside was just too much.
“Well, that's it,” Jak said, throwing up his hands. “That's just grand.”
“How do you know?” Brand asked Gudrin, ignoring his brother's outburst.
“I can feel it. Now that I know it is here, its presence is clear to me,” she turned then and leveled an accusatory finger at Telyn. “I believe it was some of your doing that it is here this morning. I warned you about the beacon, but still you saw fit to burn it. There are many things, even here in the Haven, that should not be disturbed by a call from one without the wisdom to deal with them.”
Telyn hung her head, but by the set of her jaw and the way she toyed with her dagger, Brand suspected she was not cowed. Gudrin looked at her and sighed. “Still,” she said, “it wouldn't be fair to blame you entirely, as the thing has been following these boys of Clan Rabing for some time now, even without your aid in marking them.”
“What shall we do?” asked Jak, his voice sounding weak and betraying that he was at a loss as to how to protect his home and his guests.
“We will have breakfast,” said Gudrin simply. The only one who smiled at this idea was Corbin.
Posting Modi as a lookout at the front window, they ate around the fire and made plans. While eating, they all felt the presence of something outside, something that wished them ill. Occasionally, they thought to hear the soft playing of sweet pipes, but they were never sure, as it might have been only the wind whistling around the eaves of the old house. The music, if music it was, brought them no joy. There was no laughter in the house, and somehow the food tasted less appetizing, despite Corbin's excellent cooking. They plied Gudrin with questions, most of which she answered vaguely. Some, she refused to answer entirely. Telyn was the most persistent questioner.
“But madam, you must tell us about Herr-ah, that is, about the Enemy. He is just one of the Faerie, is he not?”
“Yes, and no,” said Gudrin. She swallowed another two strips of bacon, seemingly whole, before continuing. “The Enemy is one we must not speak of just now. Not if that is one of his servants outside.”
She paused for a moment to glance to the closed shutters, her eyes seeming to focus on the snowy scene outside and whatever might lurk there. A tinkling sound came to them all then, a soft half-melody, felt as much as heard. Frowning, Gudrin turned back to the group. She leaned forward and lowered her voice. The others all leaned inward to hear her words.
“The Faerie aren't like humans, merlings or the Kindred. They come in myriad forms, the next one looking and acting completely differently from the last. They do not have families and kinfolk quite the way that we do. A Faerie elfkin is able to sire a dryad or one of the Wee Folk, or even a goblin. What results depends on magic and the nature of the parents. Many of the Faerie seem to be unique examples of their kind, freaks that are never born twice. Some of them were once human, and are now forever cursed to live with the Faerie, not alive, but Undying.”
“Among the unique ones, there are wide varieties of temperaments and tendencies. The Enemy and his servants are unique in this way, many of them once human. They are of a sort that embraces cruelty and the absence of light. It is part of your Pact with the Faerie that they keep away these Dark Ones.”
Jak made a gesture of annoyance. “You mentioned merlings in the same breath as River Folk and the Kindred. The Faerie are strange, but at least they keep their bargains. I'd rather not be likened to one of the baby-stealing, muck-crusted merlings.”
Gudrin shrugged. “True, they steal your young, but do you not eat their eggs when given the chance? In fact, you inhabit the same lands and waters as the merlings for the same reasons. They to, fear the Faerie and reside in the Haven to avoid their torments.”
“You make them sound intelligent,” said Jak with a snort. “I've never thought of merlings as much more than dim-witted savages.”
“A fair assessment,” admitted Gudrin. “But regardless, both your peoples reside here in an uneasy truce, both thankful to be out of the reach of the Faerie.”
“But I thought the Pact was only to appease the Faerie, to keep them from stealing from us and playing their awful pranks,” said Brand, chewing a brown-bread muffin. He sipped a mug of coffee to wash it down. “You make it seem as if much more is at stake.”
Gudrin rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Oh, how short are the memories of humans. The Pact, which seems almost a new thing to my Kindred, appears to you River Folk as ancient history, the origins of which are only vaguely understood,” she said, shaking her head. She drained her coffee mug in a gulp and wagged it at Corbin, who promptly filled it again. “The Pact is really a bargain, my good young man, struck between the Faerie and the River Folk. You see, although their needs are slight, the Faerie aren't farmers. They have always found it easier to steal what food they need than grow it themselves.
“However, the rising of the Enemy in days gone by was the real reason for the Pact. Rather than stealing from and hunting one another, your two peoples decided to cooperate. Your part of the bargain was to give one part in seven of your crops each year to feed the Faerie of Cmyry. For their part the Faerie would perform no tricks, sour no milk, blight no crops and set no changelings in the cribs of your mothers. Also, they had the task of guarding your borders against malicious creatures of every type,” Gudrin finished. She scooped up another forkful of scrambled eggs, which quickly disappeared into her face.
Brand noticed that even at the breakfast table she wore her leather sack over her shoulder and kept her package laid across her knees. He was about to ask her about it, but Telyn bubbled up with another question.
“So the Faerie should have kept out this shade?” she asked. There was an odd light in her eyes that spoke of a hunger for knowledge, rather than food. Brand noticed that she had barely touched her plate.
“Aye, they should have,” said Gudrin. “It is a disturbing thing that the Enemy's bard has so much strength as to be able to get past them.” Her plate was empty and she sat back, loosening her belt and readjusting her rucksack for comfort. Brand thought he saw it jiggle oddly when she moved it, as if a heavy object had shifted inside.
“Are we strong enough here, on our home isle, to face this thing and ward it off?” demanded Jak.
Gudrin considered. She picked up the package on her knees, which Brand was now certain was a book, and closed her eyes. After a moment she nodded. “Yes, I feel that we have strength enough if he is alone. The Shade is weak when alone and in the daylight. Especially when working hard to keep the Faerie from noticing him.
“But that isn't the real question,” she said, placing both hands on the table and eyeing each of them in turn. Her blue gaze had that hard spark of light again that was painful to look upon. “The real question is why the Enemy has sent his bard to watch you.”