“To our spirits,” the songsmith agreed, through stiff lips. Seeing that eerie phosphorescent glow, she could well believe that he spoke truth.
“Even so.”
“But Alon, we will have to risk it! Arvon is hundreds of leagues away, across the sea! We could never track Yachne in time, otherwise!”
“You may have the right of it,” he agreed. “But do not forget that there is a second reason not to go immediately…”
“Which is?” she asked, conscious suddenly of a great tiredness in her own body. It seemed all she could do to hold on to Alon’s belt.
“I will show you.” He reined Monso around and walked the Keplian out of the mouth of the cave, down a rocky trail, until they rounded a bend and stood upon a mountainside.
The sun was rising against the eastern horizon, with no mountains to block its rays. Alon indicated the surrounding countryside. “We are in Escore, my lady. If I am not mistaken, where we sit is not more than a half-day’s ride from the Valley of the Green Silences.”
“Dahaun’s Valley!” Eydryth said, remembering their discussion with Nolar and Duratan. “The place of healing!”
“Yes. I have known about that Valley since I was a youth, of course, but I could not reveal my knowledge of such without giving myself away to you,” he said ruefully. “So I made shift to ‘discover’ that scroll in Nolar’s study.”
“When all the time you knew!” she said, giving him a mock glare. “But is it true? Can the Lady Dahaun heal my father?”
“I cannot be sure. On one edge of the Valley lies a place of healing. There are pools of a red mud there that can overcome any injury or sickness. Death, if a victim can but reach that spot, has no power there. Whether Dahaun’s red mud will work on an injury of the mind…” He shrugged. “I know not.”
“But Kerovan… Yachne…” She made a helpless gesture. “She will destroy him if we do not stop her!”
“Are you prepared to give up your quest, sacrifice your father’s chance to be healed in order to save this Lord Kerovan?”
Eydryth stared bleakly out over the rolling green hills of Escore, feeling as though her heart had been ruthlessly seized by unseen hands and was being pulled apart within her breast. Blessed Gunnora, what shall I do? I cannot choose between one and the other! I cannot! Amber Lady, help me!
9
“I cannot choose between them,” Eydryth said numbly. She gave him a despairing glance. “No one could make such a choice!”
“No one should have to,” Alon agreed. “And I believe that there exists a way to save both of them. If we can reach the Valley of the Green Silences today, we can collect some of Dahaun’s healing mud to carry with us, then go back through the gate tomorrow. With Monso’s speed, we should be able to catch Yachne before she can harm your Kerovan.”
“We do not know how much of Arvon she may have to cross before she reaches Kar Garudwyn,” Eydryth said.
“She may not have to travel there,” Alon warned. “I think it more likely that she will seek out a place of the Shadow and work a summoning spell to draw him to her, as she did with Dinzil.”
“Arvon has many such places,” Eydryth whispered. “It is a gamble, Alon. If we are wrong, Kerovan’s life may well be forfeit, and Yachne may well have such Power as to be nigh invincible.”
“It is a gamble, yes,” he agreed. “But I cannot leave Escore without warning my people. They are in terrible danger, too, never forget.”
“Will the valley dwellers be able to carry the message to those the witch plans to harm?”
“Yes. Dahaun has birds that she trains to bear messages to Es City and all the different places in Escore, in case of any troubling in the land. Also, Kyllan is mind-linked with his brother, Kemoc, and his sister, Kaththea, and so may be able to warn them that way.”
Eydryth straightened, feeling the muscles in her back and neck ache with the movement. “Let us go, then. We have no time to lose.”
Alon nudged Monso with his heels and the Keplian began picking his way down the mountain slope. It was fortunate that the Gate on this side of the mountain range had deposited them far lower in the craggy heights than the one they had leaped through in Estcarp. Before they had gone a mile, they struck on a winding game trail that led downward to rolling hills. As they traveled, the songsmith kept a sharp lookout for any trace of Dinzil, but the suddenly aged sorcerer was nowhere to be seen.
Their last descent was a particularly precipitous scramble down a steep and muddy path, and, when they had negotiated it safely, Alon drew rein to allow Monso to breathe. Eydryth gazed around her, seeing no sign of anything living save a herd of pronghorns grazing on the spring turf of the next hillside. “What do you think happened to Dinzil?” she asked.
Alon hooked a leg up over the pommel of the saddle and turned sideways so he could regard her. “I do not believe that one such as Dinzil could face living as an ordinary man. If he truly was bereft of all his power, then I would wager that he lies now at the bottom of some cliff, free from his weak and aged body.”
The songsmith nodded. “You are probably—”
She broke off with a startled cry, ducking as something black suddenly dived at them from the sky above. The creature gave a piercing scream as it glided by, turning toward them again, and Eydryth recognized the white V on its breast. “Steel Talon!” she cried. “He found us!”
Alon held out his arm, bracing himself, and, with another screech, the bird landed on that improvised perch. The Adept winced as the creature’s talons dug into the leather of his sleeve. The falcon regarded each of the humans, first with one golden eye, then, cocking its head, with the other. Steel Talon cried out again, his wickedly hooked bill seeming suddenly far too close to Eydryth’s eyes.
“We forgot him,” she said, guiltily. “He is angry with us.”
“I did not forget him,” Alon said, as much to the falcon as to her. “I knew he would find us. He has been with me long enough so that he can sense my mind, even though I am not a Falconer. Those warriors can truly communicate mind-to-mind with their birds, but it does not require close contact for the bird simply to sense my whereabouts.”
Eydryth spoke to the falcon as though the bird could understand her. “Winged warrior,” she said, “I am sorry that we did not offer you the chance to travel through the Gate with us. But it was not a comfortable journey, I assure you. Doubtless flying over those mountains was much more to your liking.”
“If he wishes to accompany us tomorrow, he will have to go through the Gate with us,” Alon said. “He could not possibly follow us across two continents and an ocean—to the other side of the world.”
“How can we manage to carry him?” she asked, dubiously eyeing the falcon’s rending beak and sharp talons.
“With difficulty, I am sure,” Alon said. “I will strive to communicate the problem to him tonight, with Dahaun to help me. She can mind-speak nearly any creature.”
As he finished speaking, the falcon stretched out his wings, and, with a quick motion of his arm, Alon helped him launch himself skyward. Monso’s breathing had slowed and calmed, so they set off again. Steel Talon wheeled in the sky above them, flying so high at times that he seemed naught but a pinprick of black against the blueness.
The slopes before them now were grassy and gently rolling, so Alon put the Keplian into a steady canter. They were headed due north, Eydryth realized, judging their direction from the position of the sun. She relaxed into the stallion’s gait, balancing easily on those powerful haunches, feeling the rhythmic push and glide beneath her. Before long the steady motion had lulled her into a near-doze.