"Now what?"
"Find someplace comfortable and make yourself a camp wherever you feel safest -- although I can guarantee that as long as you stay inside the trees you'll be perfectly safe."
"Myself? What about you?"
"Oh, I'll be here, but I'll be busy. The process of calling a familiar is rather involved and takes a long time." Kethry dismounted in the exact center of the pavement and began unloading her saddlebags from Ironheart's back.
"How long is 'a long time'?" The paved area really took up only about half of the circular clearing. The rest was grass and scattered boulders, a green and lumpy rim surrounding the smooth gray pavement. There was plenty of windfall lying around the grassy area, most of it probably good and dry, dry enough to make a fire. And there was a nice little nook at the back of the circle, a cluster of boulders that would make a good firepit. Somehow Tarma didn't want even the slightest chance of fire escaping from her. Not here. Not after that walking sapling; no telling what its mother might think about fire, or the makers of fire.
"Until sunset tomorrow night."
"What?"
"I told you, it's very complicated. Surely you can find something to do with yourself..."
"Well, I'm going to have to, aren't I? I'm certainly not going to leave you alone out here."
Kethry didn't bother to reply with anything more than an amused smile, and began setting up her spell-casting equipment. Tarma, grumbling, took both mares over to the side of the paved area and gave them the command to stay on the grass, unsaddled and unharnessed them, and began grooming them to within an inch of their lives.
When she slipped a look over at her partner, Kethry was already seated within a sketched-in circle, a tiny brazier emitting a spicy-scented smoke beside her. Her eyes were closed and from the way her lips were moving she was chanting. Tarma sighed with resignation, and hauled the tack over to the area where she intended to camp.
It had lacked about a candlemark to sunset when they'd reached this place; by the time Tarma finished setting up camp to her liking, the sun was down and she was heartily glad of the fire she'd lit. It wasn't that it was cold...
No, it was the things outside that circle of trees that made her glad of the warm glow of the flames. The warm earthly glow of the flames. There were noises out there, sounds like she'd never heard before. The mares moved over to the fireside of their own volition, and were not really interested in the handfuls of grain Tarma offered them. They stood, one on either side of her, in defensive posture, ears twitching nervously.
It sounded like things were gathering just on the other side of the trees. There was a murmuring that was very like something speaking, except that no human throat ever made burbling and trilling sounds quite like those Tarma heard. There were soft little whoops, and watery chuckles. Every now and then, a chorus of whistlers exchanged responses. And as if that weren't enough --
Through the branches Tarma could see amorphous patches of glow, patches that moved about. As the moon rose above the trees, she unsheathed her sword and dagger, and held them across her lap.
"Child -- "
Tarma screeched and jumped nearly out of her skin.
She was on her feet without even thinking about rising, and whipped around to face --
Her instructor, who had come with the first moonlight.
"You -- you -- sadist!" she gasped, trying to get her heart down out of her throat. "You nearly frightened me to death!"
"There is nothing for you to fear. What is outside the trees is curious, no more."
"And I'm the Queen of Valdemar."
"I tell you truly. This is a place where no evil can bear to tread; look about you -- and look to your she'enedra."
Tarma looked again, and saw that the mares had settled, their heads down, nosing out the last of the grain she'd given them. She saw that the area of the pavement was glowing -- that what she'd mistaken for a soft silver reflection of the moonlight was in fact coming from within the paving material. Nor was that all -- the radiance was brighter where Kethry sat oblivious within her circle, and blended from the silver of the pavement into a pale blue that surrounded her like an aura. And the trees themselves were glowing -- something she hadn't noticed, being intent on the lights on the other side -- a healthy, verdant green. All three colors she knew from Kethry's chance-made comments were associated with life-magic, positive magic.
And now the strange sounds from outside their enclosure no longer seemed so sinister, but rather like the giggling and murmuring of a crowd of curious small children.
Tarma relaxed, and shrugged. "Well, I still don't exactly like this place..."
"But you can see it is not holding a threat, half"
"Hai." she placed the point of her blade on the pavement and cocked her head at him. "Well, I haven't much to do, and since you're here..."
"You are sadly in need of practice," he mocked.
* * *
"Shesti!" she scoffed back, bringing her sword up into guard position, "I'm not that badly off!"
By day the circle of trees no longer seemed quite so sinister, especially after Tarma's instructor had worked her into sweat-dripping exhaustion. When dawn came -- and he left -- she was ready to drop where she stood and sleep on the hard pavement itself.
But the mares needed more than browse and grain, they needed water. There was no water here save what they'd brought with them. And Tarma dared not truly sleep while Kethry remained enwrapped in spell-casting.
So when the first hint of the sun reddened the sky, she took Hellsbane with her and cautiously poked her nose out of the sheltered area, looking for a hint of water.
There was nothing stirring outside the circle of trees; the eerie landscape remained quiet. But when Tarma looked at the dirt at the foot of the trees she saw tracks, many tracks, and few of them were even remotely identifiable.
"Kulath etaven," she said softly to her mare, 'Find water.'
Hellsbane raised her head and sniffed; then took two or three paces to the right. Tarma placed one hand on the mare's shoulder; Hellsbane snorted, rubbed her nose briefly against Tarma's arm, then proceeded forward with more confidence.
She headed for a tangle of vines -- none of which moved, or had bones beneath them -- and high, rank bushes, all of which showed the familiar summery verdancy. As the pair forced their way in past the tangle, breaking twigs and bruising leaves, Tarma found herself breathing in an astringent, mossy scent with a great deal of pleasure. The mare seemed to enjoy the odor too, though she made no move to nibble the leaves.
There was a tiny spring at the heart of the tangle, and Tarma doubted she'd have been able to locate it without the mare's help. It was hardly more than a trickle, welling up from a cup of mosscovered stone, and running a few feet, only to vanish again into the thirsty soil. The mare slurped up the entire contents of the cup in a few swallows, and had to wait for it to fill again several times before she'd satisfied her thirst.
It was while she was awaiting Hellsbane's satiation that Tarma noticed the decided scarcity of insects within this patch of growth. Flies and the like had plagued them since they entered the Pelagirs; as a horsewoman, Tarma generally took them for granted.