I slipped in through the back of the inn. Melly was slicing pork for stew, but she took time to give me a friendly nod. There was no crowd here today. When I walked into the room where the elders were, there were few people there who were not on the council. Whatever it was that sparked this meeting, it must have been bad, from the looks on their faces. Merewich had the acorn, but he stopped speaking when I stepped through the door to stand before the council in the traditional place for a request to address the group.
"Aren," he said, as if women interrupted his meetings every day. Most of the rest of the council looked as if they were too disturbed to object—not a good sign. "Is this important?"
I nodded.
"Speak."
"I found the raiders' camp. It's on the hill overlooking my father's field above my cottage."
Merewich ran a hand over his face, then turned to Koret. "Do we have the manpower to take it now?"
Koret thought a moment, then shook his head. "No. They'll have it moved soon enough anyway. The manor is much more defensible." The weariness on his face went all the way to the bone.
"What happened?" I asked. Their reaction wasn't what I expected for the first chance we'd had to strike back at the bandits. Alarm and fatigue combined to let me speak out of turn. When I had left last night, there would have been plenty of fighters to launch some sort of attack.
"The raiders took the Fell bridge last night," replied Merewich without chiding me. He looked a decade older than he had this spring. "And the manor house as well. As far as we can tell, Albrin and his men were all killed outright. We wouldn't know that much, but one of the manor serfs escaped."
He nodded toward the corner of the room, and I saw a boy of about fourteen, thin and ragged, who was curled in a tight knot against the wall. His eyes were open, shifting from one side to the other. The tautness of his stillness reminded me of last night, when I, too, had sat very still so no one would notice me.
"Has someone told Kith?" I asked. Albrin, I thought, not Albrin.
"I did," said Merewich. "It's hard to tell how he took it."
I nodded and fought tears. If this last spring had taught me anything, it was that I could do nothing about past events. But I can make the present worse, I thought sourly. Well, best to get it over with at once. "Koret, for your count—four of the raiders died last night on my rounds."
"Did you…" began Merewich. He stopped when I shook my head.
"No, it wasn't me. Kith's the only one who can take them out in multiples. I came upon a group of raiders unexpectedly. There were only the four of them, so I took cover instead of sounding the alarm. It was dark, but I heard something attack and eat them." A few of the elders blanched at my bald telling. "I'm not sure what it was. When it was quiet, I came out and looked the area over. I'm not much of a tracker, next to useless in the dark. If you want to send Kith or Red Toam out to my cottage to read the dirt, they might be able to tell you more. If I were to guess, I'd say it was something—something like that thing that attacked me on the Hob."
They didn't like that, but neither did I. We'd all been hoping it had been the only one. No one else had seen anything like it since then.
"Strange how she's the only one who sees them," muttered someone behind me.
Koret ignored the remark. "Is that all?"
I nodded, and turned to leave. As I did, I saw the serf from the manor leaning wearily against the wall. "Let me take the boy out. He looks as if he's ready to collapse. I'll eat my boots if Melly won't take him. She can always use more help around here."
I didn't say Melly was a motherly soul who would take him under her wing, but everyone in the room except the boy knew it. Merewich gave me an approving smile, and I took that as permission.
When I extended my hand to help him to his feet, the boy eyed it warily and slid up against the wall until he stood on his own.
Despite it all, I stepped out of the inn with a smile. Melly could be overwhelming to people who were not used to her, and occasionally to those of us who were. I cherished the look on the poor boy's face as she'd herded him to the bathing room with the determination of a sheepdog at shearing time.
The bright light of day assaulted my eyes after the dim interior of the inn, so I didn't see Poul until I bumped into him. Because of my momentary blindness, I couldn't tell if he stepped in front of me deliberately, or if it was an accident. But if he'd still been avoiding me, he wouldn't have been close enough to bump.
"Witch," he spat, stepping back from me as if my touch could contaminate him.
He had changed even more than I had over the past few months. New gray streaks ran through his beard, which had grown straggly. His hair was uncombed and his clothes ragged. They hung on him because of the weight he'd lost—but everyone had lost some weight.
"Yes," I agreed mildly, trying to step past him. I liked Poul. I didn't want this ugliness, especially not now, while I was so worried about Albrin.
There were several people gathering near the corner of the inn. It seemed to me that they were just curious—though I hadn't been keeping careful track of who belonged to the radical faction. I almost didn't care. I just wanted to find someplace quiet where I could deal with Albrin's death—for I knew that if Albrin wasn't dead, he soon would be.
"Why don't you just use your magic to destroy them instead of us, witch? Or are you helping them? There are evil spirits haunting the old cemetery now—but I don't suppose I need to tell you that." He looked unhealthy under his tan. "If you can see so much, why didn't you see the raiders' attack?"
I remembered the light in my sister Ani's eyes when she looked at her husband, and pushed aside my grief for a moment. Instead of the embittered, angry man in front of me, I saw the tenderness in his face when he held Ani after Kith brought home our brother's body. I saw…
… my father's slow nod of thanks to Kith as he took Quilliar's limp corpse and helped lay it on the couch. Ani buried her face against Poul's shoulder and sobbed silently.
"His neck is snapped. Must have been a bad fall," Father said, not looking at Kith.
"He's been dead for three days," said Kith, wearing the uniform of Moresh's own guard, as he had for two years. He shifted awkwardly away from the family, setting himself apart.
"… evil," spat Poul. I looked at him and saw only the mountain that rose behind him, the morning light highlighting the high ridges, the west-facing slope in shadows.
"The hob," I said numbly.
Poul looked taken aback. "The Hob? What does the mountain have to do with anything?"
I shook my head. The realization of what I could do began to make my heart pound. "No, not the mountain."
Briefly I saw again the face I'd seen only in visions. I pushed Poul aside and sprinted to the inn's stable, where I'd been keeping Duck when I wasn't using him for patrolling.
I grabbed his bridle, which I'd had mended, and slipped it on without bothering to take Duck out of his stall. He accepted the bit with his usual phlegmatic good humor, watching with interest as I scrambled to find a saddle big enough to fit him. The stable boy had been drafted to patrol, so the people who kept their horses here (Wandel and I) had to tend them themselves.
Not knowing how long it would take me to find the hob, I couldn't ride him bareback, as I usually did. Climbing mountains without a saddle would be miserable after a while. I cursed the time it took me to locate the one I'd used on the trip to Auberg. As I picked it up, the crossbow swung from its usual perch on my back, caught by a swaying stirrup. I was so used to wearing it now, I hardly noticed it, large as it was. But mindful of the task I'd chosen for myself, I set it in the saddle's place. Weapons wouldn't further my cause. If I ran into anything unfriendly, I had Duck and my knife.