It was now well toward that hour the Shadows came, and, supperless and desperate, he saw stone abundant, stone of the streets, stone of the gates, stone of the inmost walls of the Place, stone up and up about the great pale stone keep which dominated everything all of which advised him that here Maurylʼs warning about being indoors might hold true; but he saw nowhere yet to shelter him, no more than he had found anyone responsible to give him supper.
His path had wound steadily uphill, into narrow places where buildings on either side of the streets projected closer and closer in their second stories, plaster and beams above the stone, until they overhung most of the space between giving Shadows ample refuge at this hour, the more so at the narrowest points of the side streets which extended on either hand. Some lanes were so dark they daunted him. The pavings underfoot were muddy and dirty, as Mauryl would never have permitted, the mortar-courses in many places running with water. He saw a man heave a bucketful out the door of a building carelessly: children passing by skipped not quite out of the way, and shook their fists at the man, yelling wicked Words in high, thin voices.
The man slammed the door in their faces. The children threw stones at the door. It was not a happy sight.
At least no one threw stones or dishwater at him. A few women standing in their doorways looked at him mistrustfully, and one or two doors shut abruptly but it was getting dangerously late, and doubtless they were anxious to be away inside, safe from the Shadows.
The Town was not at all like Ynefel. There were so many people, and it was not so clean as he had imagined. Not so noble as he had imagined. Not so helpful as he had hoped. His stomach ached with hunger, and he was afraid of the coming dark. He thought of going up to a door of anyone, man or woman or even child, who looked kinder than the rest, and asking if he could have supper and stay the night but he feared their anger, too.
Now the sun was gone even from the highest walls, long past that time that Mauryl had always said he should lock the doors and come inside. Prudent men and women were doing exactly that quite rapidly now, and it all said to him that he should find his own shelter for the night, and quickly. Whatever Mauryl feared had not touched him in the woods, so either he had been fortunate, or perhaps Mauryl still somehow looked over him, since Mauryl had had power over the Shadows.
But perhaps, equally to be believed, keeps and towns were the unique abode of Shadows. He saw a great many lurking in the narrow streets and in the rare spaces between houses, and he feared he had never been in such danger in the woods as he was now.
He kept walking, that being all he knew to do while he formed some plan for the night. He became aware, then, of a sound following him.
He looked back in apprehension looked down into the small, dirty face of a child, a boy with ragged sleeves and breeches out at the knees, who had been copying his steps through the twilight. The boy tucked hands behind him and grinned up at him.
He was hopeful then, but not too hopeful, and ventured a smile in turn. The boy stood fast, rocking on his bare feet.
Where ye from? the child asked.
From the Road. He had learned to be cautious with Names, ever since the men at the fire, and the first man he had met on the Road.
And sure enough the boyʼs eyes widened in alarm. Gods bless, Yer Lordship, ye are a gennelman, are ye not?
Tristen, Tristen said, fearing the boy would run and accounting that he heard Words of respect, but equally of fear from the boy. He reached out, but dared not touch him or hold him. My name is Tristen. Is there a place safe to spend the night? Might I stay in your room, boy?
The boy looked surprised, and began to rock again, hands behind him, then gave an uneasy laugh. My room, Yer Lordship? I hainʼt got a room, but I knows them as has.
A place to sleep, something to eat. Please. Iʼm very tired. And hungry.
Oh? So why donʼt ye go uphill? Up thereʼs for lords like you. Hainʼt ye spoke to them at the Zeide?
The Zeide. He looked up at the walls. But Zeide was wrong. It was only half a Word.Kathseide. The Kathseide was the fortress of the Amefin and it echoed with other Words: Eswyllan and SadyurnanHnasmrith
I could take ye there, Yer Lordship, the boy said.
Thank you, he said fervently. Thank you, boy.
He was profoundly relieved, having met practical-minded rescue at the very last before the dark. The boy, for his part, wasted no time, but bobbed a sort of bow, turned on one bare foot, and swung along extravagantly in front of him it was more alley than street where the boy led him, darker and fouler yet than the gate-road he had generally been following. Every shutter and almost every door here was shut. But the boy swaggered his way ahead with a bold, a confident step, as a vast, somber sound boomed out, brazen and measured and frightening.
What is that? Tristen asked, recalling the hammering and wailing of the Shadows in the keep, and looked up at the strip of fading daylight above them. The sound seemed, like the groanings in the keep, to come from the very walls.
Naught but the Zeide Bell, Yer Lordship, the boy said, in a tone that said of course it was that, and he was a silly fool to wonder at it. The Zeide bell tells folk the lower gates is shut.
But not the Zeide gates? he said, concerned for their safety, and distracted by the thought of Bell, Alarm, and warning. Are they shut, now, too? Are we too late?
Nay, nay, Yer Lordship, she donʼt never shut most times. Ye follow, ye follow me, Yer Lordship, is all.
He caught perhaps half of that, except that the boy would guide him, and no, there was no danger. He followed, reassured and relieved when the alley let out on a broader, cleaner street, upward bound. The boy strode along, and he walked briskly beside him, with hope, now, that things might turn out as Mauryl had wished. There would be some wise man, there would be someone Mauryl knew, there would be stout doors and clean sheets and supper and a bath.
Oh, very much a bath. He could never lie on clean sheets as dirty as he was. There might be hot bread and butter and ale and turnips; but he would be, oh, so content with a piece of bread and a bit of cheese, and he would invite the boy in, who badly needed a bath and clean clothes, too. Surely the wise master to whom they were going could find something for the boy, a good dinner, a room to sleep in, and the boy could show him all manner of things and talk to him when the master was busy, as wizards often were.
He saw a high stone wall before them, and indeed a gate that swallowed up the street. That a shiver of recognition came over his skin that was the Kathseide, he thought when he looked through the gates and saw the keep inside. The fortress on its hill. The Place like Ynefel.
There was nothing crumbling or ramshackle about these stones. There might be grime in the streets outside its wall. There might be washwater thrown carelessly in the town streets, but not here. The buildings below on the hill might be shuttered in fear of the coming night, but the Kathseideʼs windows showed bright with colors, a beautiful notion. He thought how it would have brightened the old gables and the shuttered windows of Ynefel had even his humble horn window stood unshuttered to the night.
He saw before him what Ynefel might have been.
Except for the people. And women and children.
Except for the smoothness of the walls, which showed no faces, none. It was pristine. Beautiful.
His knees ached as they climbed the last steep stretch of cobbles, this road being steeper than Ynefelʼs, as the walls were taller than Ynefelʼs. Within the open gateway he saw stones pale gold and clean, unweathered, a cobbled courtyard, beyond a thick archway, and inner buildings, pale stone glowing in the twilight.