"Nay; there's none, save as each can make his own. Both Xylar and Othomae lay a claim to these hills, but they never send officers hither to sustain their claims or enforce their statutes."
With the toe of his boot, Jorian stirred the body of the giant squirrel. "I'm sorry to have slain his pet. It did but defend its master."
" Tis well you did, Master Jorian. Otherwise Ixus would have told the silvans, and they would have slaughtered us in reprisal for their ally's death. As it is, they will learn of Rhithos's demise soon enough."
"How?"
"By the nullification of the confusion spell, whereby he's kept woodsmen out of their territory. As soon as some hunter wanders into this demesne—and now is the hunting season—they'll come running to this house to learn what ails their sorcerer."
"Then we had best start for Othomae forthwith," he said.
"First we must gather our gear. I shall need a cloak; your set-to has reduced mine to tatters. One of the smith's will serve."
Taking three of the remaining candles, they returned to the house. Jorian said:
"I do not think it were well to start such a journey on empty stomachs. Can you whip up a meal whilst I collect my belongings?"
"All you think of is food!" said Vanora. "I could not down a crumb after all this excitement. But you shall have what you ask. Linger not over it, for despite the darkness we should put as much distance as we can betwixt ourselves and the house by dawn, when the silvans begin to stir." She busied herself with the fire and the pots.
"Do you know the trails hereabouts?" asked Jorian, watching her. "I have a map, but on such a starless night 'tis of little avail."
"I know the way to Othomae. We go thither every month to sell Rhithos's swords and other ironmongery, to take orders for more, and to purchase supplies."
"How do you carry the load?"
"The ass bears it. Here's your repast, Master Eat-all."
"Aren't you having anything?"
"Nay; I told you I couldn't. But now the damned tyrant is dead and good riddance, we need not drink cider." She poured a flagon of wine for Jorian and another for herself and drank hers greedily.
"If you so bitterly hated Rhithos," said Jorian, "how is it that you never fled from him?"
"I told you, he had spells for fetching back runaways."
"But if you set out directly the old spooker fell asleep some night, by dawn you'd be beyond the range of his spells. And you say you know the trails."
"I couldn't traverse these woods alone, at night."
"Why not? The leopard will not attack if you put up a bold front."
"I might meet a serpent."
"Oh, come! The serpents in these hills are neither venomous, like those of the lowlands, nor huge, like those of the jungles of Mulvan, but small and harmless."
"Natheless, I have a deathly fear of all snakes." She gulped more wine. "Speak you no more of the matter; the mere thought of a serpent turns my veins to ice."
"Well then, shall we bury the smith?" asked Jorian.
"Indeed we must, and hide his grave, lest the silvans see his body lying in the smithy."
"Then we must needs do it tonight, albeit the scoundrel deserves it not."
"He was not a wholly wicked man, in the sense of doing that which he knew to be wrong." She hiccupped. "Though I hated his bowels, I would do him justice."
"He'd have murdered me for convenience in his swordmaking, and if that be not a villain, I shudder to think of the crimes that would arouse your disapproval."
"Oh, people were nothing to him. All he cared for was his sword-smith's art. He had no lust for wealth, or power, or glory, or women; his consuming ambition was to be the greatest swordmaker of all time. This ambition drove him so hard that all other human feelings were squeezed out, save perhaps some small affection for Ixus the imp." She drank heavily again.
"Mistress!" said Jorian. "If you swill thus on an empty stomach, you'll be in no shape to march through the woods."
" 'Tis my affair, what I drink!" shouted Vanora. "Tend your business and I'll tend mine."
Jorian shrugged and addressed himself to his food. He did well by a rewarmed roast, another loaf of bread, half a cabbage, a fistful of onions, and an apple pie. He asked, "Why did you turn Zor loose?"
"For one, the creature loved me—and cursed few there have been who did. I include not all the lustful young men like yourself, who prate of love but only seek to sheathe their fleshy poniards. So it grieved me to see Rhithos sacrifice him to his mad ambition.
"For another, I—I took pleasure in thwarting Rhithos, to gratify my hatred. Lastly, because I wished to escape. Had Rhithos not died, I had spent my life here. He was as lively company as a granite boulder. The years of a wizard are not as those of a common man, and he might have survived me, old and shriveled. I durst not attack him myself, even in slumber, because the imp would have warned him; I durst not flee, for the reason I've given. So, thought I, I'll stir up strife betwixt these twain, and whichever win, I may escape in the confusion."
"You'd not have cared if I—a harmless stranger—had perished in this strife?"
"Oh, I hoped you'd conquer, if—if only because I should have gained no pleasure from your death. But if you'd lost," she shrugged, "that had been nought to me. What has the world of men done for me that I should bear them that all-embracing, indiscriminate love the priests of Astis counsel?" She gulped more wine.
"By Astis' ivory teats, you're frank, at least," he said, wiping his mouth. "I do not think we need wash these dishes, since we purpose to abandon the house. If you'll tell me where Rhithos keeps his shovel, I will bury him and his pet."
"On—on a peg to the right of the door of the smithy, ash—as you enter." Her voice had become blurred. "He wash a mos'—most particular man, with a peg for each tool, and woe betide the wretch who returned one to the wrong peg!"
"Good! Collect your dunnage whilst I perform this task." Carrying a candle, Jorian went out.
Half an hour later he returned, to find Vanora sprawled ungracefully on the floor, with her skirt up to her middle and an overturned flagon beside her. He spoke to her, nudged her, shook her, slapped her, and poured cold water on her face. Her only responses were a drunken mumble and a rasping snore.
"Damned fool woman," growled Jorian. "We're in such haste to flee the silvans, so you must needs get potulated!"
He stood scowling and thinking. He could not set forth without her, since he did not know the way. He could not carry her…
He gave up, stretched out on a bench, and pulled a bearskin over himself. The next thing he knew, dawn was graying the windows. He was being aroused by Vanora, who was showering moist, slobbery kisses upon him, breathing hard, and fumbling with his garments.
As the sun rose, they stepped out, closing the doors of Rhithos' house and smithy. Jorian wore the sword Randir in a scabbard from Rhithos' living room. He also bore a dagger of Rhithos' make: a deadly affair, with a broad, cubit-long blade and a catch that prevented its coming out of its sheath unless one pressed a stud. The pommel was no gaudy gem but a simple ball of lead. When held by the sheathed blade, the weapon made a handy bludgeon in case one wished merely to stun a foe.
Jorian also carried his crossbow, and under his tunic he wore a vest of fine mesh mail, also looted from Rhithos' house. Feeling as if he could knock an elephant down with his fist, he expanded his huge chest and said:
"We shall have to take our chances with the silvans. Perhaps they won't soon discover Rhithos's disappearance. But I don't care." While loading provisions on Rhithos' ass, he burst into a threshing song in the Kortolian dialect.
"What are you singing about?" snapped Vanora. "You'll rouse every silvan within leagues, with that big bass voice."