Duratan moved to accompany his mate. “It is just as well,” he remarked at the doorway, “that you can admit to an Alizonian father, since otherwise your pretense would be ruined every time you opened your mouth.”
“May you swiftly impart the knowledge that is required,” Ouen exhorted Mereth, Irvil, and me. “Pray inform me if I may provide any aid. All of Lormt’s facilities are at your disposal.”
Thus began a daunting week of constant application. Morning, noon, and evening, I listened, and wrote under Mereth’s and Irvil’s demanding tutelage. Bearing Morfew’s warning in mind, I did not attempt perfect mimicry of the sounds of the Dales speech. In truth, the tones were difficult to match, being softer and quite different to the ear from Alizonian.
As she had promised, Duratan’s mate marched me to her lair later that first afternoon. She had me sit upon a stool beside a stone basin in which she stirred an acrid fluid. After wetting my hair with water, she poured cup after cup of the odoriferous rinse over my head—nor did she neglect to darken my eyebrows, using a soft brush dipped in the dye. Both of us were well-soaked by the time she pronounced me possibly presentable. She warned me that once-set, the dye would not fade for a long time. It would not do for the color to lapse during the sea voyage. I must confess that I started at the sight of my image reflected in a silver tray. For an unsettling instant, I thought I was beholding a stranger. No baron would have allowed such a dark-haired, disreputable ruffian into his living quarters as a guest . . . but Duratan’s mate smiled at me, and said I made a barely passable halfling.
Between our strenuous study meetings, Mereth composed additional letters to be given to her kinsmen and other traders in the Dales once I landed at Vennesport. We pored over maps together for hours while she supplied me with descriptions of the land I must traverse and the likely arrangements that must be made for me to secure supplies and hire suitable horses.
The First Whelping Moon commenced while we labored. Mereth termed it the Month of the Snow Bird, and indeed I had seldom seen heavier snows than those burdening the mountain fastnesses surrounding Lormt.
I was soon beset by Lormt’s chief provisioner, a bald, talkative Estcarpian named Wessell, who fell upon me like a yammering hound pup. He proved to be surprisingly efficient, however, in choosing and assembling the travel gear I required. He also presented me with a small box of lamantine wood, which he praised highly for preserving delicate foodstuffs during long journeys. We had seized a few such examples as Dales booty, but I had not before possessed a sample of that dark gray-brown close-grained wood. Mereth wrote that it was prized for making bottles which could keep water sweet for many days, as well as containers which would indefinitely keep fresh the best journeycakes—those baked with fruit or meat bits. No Dalesman knew, she added, where to find the trees from which the wood could be cut, but precious objects made of worked lamantine wood were rarely found in the Waste. My trader’s quest, guided by the old map, would be considered dangerous, but not so extraordinary as to arouse undue notice.
By the Third Day of the First Whelping Moon, I was ready to depart upon my first stage of travel—the thirty or more leagues from Lormt to Es City. One of Lormt’s younger scholars—still old enough to be my sire—agreed to accompany me as far as Es City. It was necessary to leave behind at Lormt all of my baronial trappings, including my signet ring. I felt perilously vulnerable with just the single belt dagger which the Lormt folk insisted was the customary defensive weapon for a traveling merchant. The notion of spending a moon or more—depending upon the weather—aboard a ship manned by Alizon’s deadly Sulcar foes with only one inadequate blade at my belt was maddening. I reminded myself that I was ostensibly a trader’s apprentice, and as such, I must comply with their practices.
Gathering up my heavy outer cloak, I entered Mereth’s bedchamber to collect Elsenar’s jewel. She was sitting up in the bed, and nodded approvingly as she surveyed me. She wrote on her slate for me to read, “Our joint efforts have succeeded. You truly present the semblance of an apprentice trader. Take with you now Elsenar’s legacy, together with my well-wishings for a fair journey.” She held out to me the glittering jewel, which I secured in the innermost pocket of my tunic. At that point, I did not care to wear the cursed object next to my skin. It was unsettling enough having to travel with it on my person. Would it again afflict my dreams as it had in Alizon? I thrust away the unwelcome thought.
“I thank you doubly, Lady,” I said, “for both your trust and your farewell. With the aid of your map, I shall find the ensorcelled ruins and restore this mighty stone to our Foresire.” I bowed to her, and my hand moved in habitual salute to the bare cloth of my tunic, where my Line badge should have been sewn.
Mereth almost smiled. “May the Flame guard you, Outlander,” she wrote, much to my puzzlement.
I bowed again, and hurried down the stairs toward the horses waiting in the windswept courtyard.
28
Kasarian—account of his journey from Lormt to Vennesport (3rd Day, First Whelping Moon-23rd Day, Moon of the Dire Wolf)
I had often hunted in the mountains bordering upon Escore, so I had no difficulty adjusting to the gait of Lormt’s mountain-bred horses. They were smaller, less sturdy beasts than our prized Torgians, but well-suited for maintaining their footing on the snow-shrouded slopes.
My trail companion was Farris, a taciturn Estcarpian. In order to accustom myself to my assumed character, I asked Farris to address me exclusively by the Dales name we had chosen for me: Kasyar. I had to learn to respond to it as if it were my name; my life might well depend upon such details. There was scant opportunity to converse while we were riding, but once we camped for the night, I attempted to engage Farris in speech. It appeared that he had been drawn to study at Lormt because of his single-minded devotion to an encompassing knowledge of herbs. Once he raised the topic, he became tediously loquacious. My own acquaintance with plants tended more toward the noxious and poisonous varieties, but fortunately, I struck upon one aspect we could profitably discuss—the range of herbs employed for enhancing and spicing bland foods. Gennard’s sire had been a master cook who had instructed him in the preparation of many pleasing dishes. I recalled sufficient details from Gennard’s remarks to prompt Farris’ discourse.
The deep snow and rough terrain frequently thwarted our progress. We did not descend to more level ground for over a chill, tiresome week. Gradually, as our unmarked path approached the north bank of the Es River, we encountered a clearer, more travel-worn trail. After a few day’s further advance, that trail broadened into a road of sorts, and late on the Thirteenth Day of the First Whelping Moon, we glimpsed our first sight of the massive gray-green wall encircling Es City.
Crouching upon the high ground at the city’s center, Es Castle glowered down at us, dwarfing even the great round towers set at intervals along the city wall. In my worst nightmares, I had never thought that I would one day behold the very fortress wherein Estcarp’s gray-clad crones gathered like spiders at the hub of their web of far-flung spells.
The next morning, as we rode through one of the narrow gates, I had to make a constant effort to preserve an outwardly untroubled aspect. It was daunting to penetrate into the heart of the territory of Alizon’s prime enemy, alone, without the backing of a properly equipped army. I sternly suppressed my apprehensions that at any moment, we might be confronted by one of the gray-robed Witches who could instantly discern my true identity.
Fortunately, once we passed inside the gate, Farris immediately turned away from the street leading to Es Castle, guiding his horse into the crowded lanes of a commercial quarter near the outer wall. He led the way into the busy courtyard of an inn whose sign bore a bright, if somewhat ill-drawn, painted image of a snow cat. After we dismounted, Farris explained that he planned to survey the city’s markets for herbs otherwise unavailable at Lormt, rest here overnight, then begin his journey back to the scholar’s citadel. He would first inquire of the innkeeper where I might seek the merchants Mereth had cited as possible sources of assistance to me.