Once more, the old man found himself wondering why he'd been so dismissive of Sirj for so many years. No man who could laugh at himself and help raise such fine children deserved to be treated so. Had Besh simply allowed himself to become one of those fathers who thought no man was good enough for his daughter?
Would it surprise you to learn that you were so thickheaded?
There could be no mistaking that voice. Ema. Why was his mind so filled with the thoughts of the dead?
The rest of the meal passed in relative silence and before long, Elica and Sirj shooed the children off to bed and began to clear the table. Besh would have liked to go outside, light his pipe, and think some more about what he'd read today. But after spending so much time away from the house, he felt that he should remain with his daughter, at least for a time.
He stood and wrapped what remained of the bread in a cloth. After that, there was little left for him to do, but he lingered in the kitchen, watching Elica as she cleaned.
"How many more days will you be going there?" she asked at last, refusing even to look at him.
"I don't know. As many as necessary."
"You're wasting your time."
"Pyav told me the same thing."
She looked at him. "Then why do you go back? What is it about that woman?"
It took him a moment to realize that she meant Lici and not Sylpa.
"I've told you before: I'm troubled by her disappearance. Everyone assumes that she's dead by now, but I don't believe she is. She's out there somewhere, and I won't be able to rest easy until I know where she is and what she's up to."
"But if there was something in her house that could tell you those things, don't you think that you'd have found it by now? People are talking, Father. They think… they think your mind is slipping. They think you're so consumed with Lici that you're becoming more and more like her every day."
He laughed. "Is that what they're saying?"
She nodded, looking utterly unamused.
"Well then, perhaps I am. As to your question, I have found something that may tell me what's become of her. Sylpa's journal. I'm making my way through it as quickly as I can. I'm not as good with my letters as you are, but I'm getting better. And I'm learning things about Lici as I go. Did you know that she came here because she lost her family to the pestilence?"
Elica turned pale. "Did you learn that today?"
"Yes. Why?"
She shook her head. "It's probably nothing."
"Tell me."
She shrugged, as if trying to make light of what she was about to tell him, but her expression belied the gesture. "It was just something I heard in the marketplace today. Apparently there have been outbreaks of the pestilence north of here, and on the other side of the wash."
"Ravens Wash?"
"No, Silverwater. It's been striking Qirsi villages."
Something I heard in the marketplace… Just as Sylpa learned of Sentaya's fate among the stalls and peddlers' carts. His mouth had gone dry, and he felt light-headed.
"Are you all right, Father?"
"What else did you hear?"
"That was all. Not a lot, but enough to make me fearful for all of us."
It had to be a coincidence, this echo of the past. What else could it be? And yet that voice within him, the one he had come to trust, even love, over the past half turn, was telling him otherwise.
The pestilence strikes and a turn later she arrives in Kirayde. Sixteen fours pass. She leaves Kirayde and a turn later the pestilence strikes. This is more than mere chance or the random act of the gods. It's her
He turned and walked out of the house.
"Father?" Elica called to him. "Where are you going?"
"Back to Sylpa's journal," he said. "Don't wait up for me. I'll be late."
Chapter 11
Standing outside the walls of Yorl, gazing westward at the imposing peaks of the Aelind Range, Grinsa and Cresenne had felt daunted nearly to the point of despair. Already they had endured the bitter hostility of the Eandi living in the coastal city, and if the captain of the Fortune Seeker was to be believed, every man and woman they encountered in western Aelea and Stelpana would be filled with just as much hate for all Qirsi, if not more. Even knowing that Eagle's Pass lay due west of the city gate, they had wondered how they would ever manage to make their way through those mountains. Yes, they had food and they had horses. But they were strangers in a land that felt both unfamiliar and malevolent. Had there been any true alternative to crossing the plain that stretched out before them that first day, they would have taken it and counted themselves fortunate to have the choice.
But there were no alternatives, and, they soon realized, all was not nearly as bad as they had feared. While the plain had appeared to have few forests in which to find shelter, and fewer towns in which to find additional stores, they soon discovered that it was not nearly so barren. As they crossed the expanse they found several small woodlands, tucked away in shallow dales through which flowed rills and creeks. They also realized that the mountains had looked so formidable from the city walls because the distance to them was not nearly as great as they had assumed. As it turned out, Aelea was a small realm, at least when compared with the kingdoms of the Forelands. The distance between Yorl and the first line of mountains was but twenty-five leagues. Without pushing their mounts too hard, they were able to cross the plain in five days. And because they managed to complete the crossing so quickly, they were never in danger of running out of food and so had no reason to risk entering an Eandi settlement.
Grinsa had worried that they might have trouble finding Eagle's Pass, but once they reached the foothills, they spied a well-worn path that wound up into the peaks. When they found the path late in that fifth day a storm hung low over the mountains, and so they made camp in the shadow of the range and hoped the weather would improve by morning. It didn't, and once more he felt his apprehension mounting. Their swift crossing of the plain would be worth nothing if they were forced to remain in the foothills, eating what was left of their supplies and making no progress.
But late that night a storm passed over their small camp, soaking their sleeping rolls and clothes, and chilling them with a hard, steady wind. When morning broke, they were cold and wet, but the skies over the range had cleared and they were able to begin their climb into the pass.
To this point, Bryntelle had borne what few hardships they encountered without complaint. But the wind only increased as they rode farther into the mountains, and they had no dry blankets with which to keep her warm. She fussed loudly throughout the day, and by nightfall Cresenne feared that she had taken ill with a fever.
Once again, however, it seemed that the gods were smiling upon them. The wind died down overnight, and when Bryntelle awoke the next morning, her fever had vanished and, aside from being famished, she showed no ill effects from the day before.
There was a reason why Eagle's Pass was so well traveled. While the surrounding peaks towered above them, stark against an azure sky and gleaming with a fresh blanket of snow, the pass was broad and low enough to be lined on either side with forests of spruce and hemlock. Rainwater from the storms cascaded off the mountains, ribbons of silver against the stone cliff faces. The roar of rushing water overwhelmed all other sound and echoed through the pass. The track was muddy from all the rain-pools of standing water reflected the sunlight-but no snow blocked their way. Before long, they were steering their mounts down the far side of the pass. Enormous mountains still loomed in front of them, but Grinsa could see a clear path through.
Still, it took them another full day of riding before they emerged from the mountains into the dry foothills west of the range. Reaching a small clearing, they dismounted and allowed the horses to graze. Grinsa and Cresenne stepped to the end of a stone ledge and once again found themselves staring out at a broad plain. This time, however, there were no mountains in sight. Just pale heath and farmland, and in the distance, a pair of broad rivers, carving through the grasses and pastures, as dark as sapphires and running to the horizon in both directions.