As he walked, Besh strained his ears, but he heard nothing more; no voices, no animals. His heart was pounding and despite the cold and the fine, cool mist falling on them, he felt sweat running down his temples.
"It's probably just peddlers," Sirj said. But the way he kept his voice low, one might have thought they were creeping toward the camp of road brigands. And perhaps they were.
Besh said nothing.
A moment later, their path entered the wood. It was far darker among the trees, but Besh could still make out the lane and the cart tracks carved into the mud. Indeed, here, sheltered from the rain by the leaves and limbs overhead, the tracks were far clearer. There were three sets at most, two leading farther into the forest, one leading the opposite way.
"There's no village here," Besh said. "Not a living one anyway."
Sirj just nodded, his dark eyes watchful, his lean frame coiled as if battle ready.
On they walked, until, topping a small rise, they saw something that made Besh's blood turn cold. A short distance off, in front of the ruins of an old wooden house, stood a horse and cart. There was nothing remarkable about either. The cart was old and weatherworn; the nag was white, with a mane the color of a Qirsi's eyes. But Besh recognized them immediately. So did Sirj.
"Those are Lici's," he whispered, scanning the wood and the remains of the houses.
"Yes," Besh said, uncertain as to whether to flee or shout out her name. In the end, he decided to do neither. "Come on," he said, starting forward again. "Let's find her."
"Wait, Besh," Sirj said, facing him. "What are we…? Are we going to fight her?"
He shrugged. "That depends on what she does. We might well need her help controlling whatever magic she's set loose upon the land, so I'd rather not have to kill her. But if she gives us no choice, then that's what I'll do."
Sirj stared at him, as if he'd just suggested that they declare war on the Fal'Borna. "You could do that?"
"I gave my word to Pyav-a blood oath-that I'd find her and keep her from doing any more harm. I'll do whatever I must to honor that oath."
"All right," Sirj said, sounding a bit awed. "Then I'll help in any way I can. But I wish I'd brought my ax."
Besh grinned. "I think we're more likely to need magic."
They continued up the lane, past wrecked houses and small, fenced- in plots of land that might once have been gardens but were now overgrown. Eventually they came to what must have been the marketplace. There were several old shops, all of them in disrepair. There were even a few old carts and the pale bones of horses. But no Lici. They followed the lane past the marketplace and through the rest of the village, until they were in the forest again.
Besh stopped. "We should turn back. She wouldn't have come this far on the road without her cart."
"She's not in the village."
"Maybe not. But she's nearby. Her horse looks healthy-she hasn't been here long."
Sirj nodded. "Should we split up?"
Besh took a long breath. "All right. You stay near the wash; I'll check the woodlands east of the village."
"Right," Sirj said. They started away from each other. "Call for me if you see anything. I'll do the same."
Besh began to wind among the trees, searching for any sign that Lici had been there, straining his ears for any sound. His hands trembled, and his knees threatened to give out at any moment. Already he wished he and Sirj hadn't agreed to search for the woman separately. He quailed at the notion of meeting up with Lici alone. The irony wasn't lost on him- at another time he would have laughed at himself. One moment he resented Sirj for having come with him; the next he wished the younger man were there just in front of him; he truly was acting like a child. But just then he couldn't bring himself to appreciate the humor.
A faint mist drifted through the wood and occasionally a gust of wind stirred the branches, bringing a cascade of water from overhead. Again and again, he thought he saw a figure moving furtively from tree trunk to tree trunk, as if hiding from him, but each time he convinced himself that he had imagined it. He took care as he walked to keep the sound of the wash on his right-on a day like this it would have been so easy to lose his way. He also tried to tread quietly, not only so he could listen for Sirj, but also because he didn't wish to alert Lici to his presence.
Seeing nothing unusual, he turned and wandered a bit farther from the river. Soon he reached a small hollow, and after just a moment's hesitation walked down into it. Doing so, he flushed a grouse, the bird exploding from the ground with a rush of wings and feathers. His heart abruptly pounding, Besh paused and leaned against a tree, his eyes closed.
And standing thus in the silence of the wood, he heard her.
At first he thought that her voice was coming to him from far off, and he considered going back for Sirj. But peering through the mist, he was amazed to find that she was only a few strides away. She sat at the base of a tree, staring straight ahead, her knees drawn up to her chest. She was whispering to herself. Occasionally she'd give a small shake of her head, or raise her voice slightly, as if in anger. But she gave no sign of knowing that he was there, and for several minutes he merely watched her, too fascinated to do anything more.
Her white hair was ragged and damp. Her face had a pinched look; the lines that time had carved in her skin seemed deeper somehow, as if she had grown ancient in the days since she left Kirayde. Besh stared at her, trying to catch a glimpse of the dark-haired beauty who had captivated him so in his youth. But she was gone, her place taken by this looked dull and empty, as if the magic had drained from her.
Perhaps he should have gone back for Sirj-just moments before he'd been terrified by the thought of facing the witch alone. But seeing her now, he realized that he was no longer frightened. She didn't look like a demon, or even a powerful Mettai witch. She merely looked old, and he sensed that she was barely aware of her surroundings. More to the point, he'd sworn an oath to Pyav that he would stop her, and he'd given his word to Elica that he wouldn't let her husband come to harm.
Stooping, never taking his eyes off of her, he dug through the leaf litter that covered the forest floor and picked up a handful of dirt. Then he pulled his knife free, cut himself, and mixed his blood with the earth. If he needed magic, he'd be ready, far faster than she could be.
Taking a breath, he started forward again, stepping carefully, watching her, trying to make out what she was saying. But even when he was close enough to hear some of the words, he couldn't make sense of them.
Still she spoke, seeming to look right through him. And Besh took another step toward her, and then another.
With the third step she finally saw him. Her eyes snapped up to his-and perhaps there was yet power in them after all, for he grew cold under her gaze. She scrambled to her feet, keeping her back pressed against the tree. Too late, Besh saw that she also had her knife' out. Her left hand was balled in a fist, and blood seeped from a cut on the back of it. No doubt there was dirt in that hand. And blood.
He wanted to shout for Sirj, but he didn't dare. What a fool he'd been.
"You!" she said, nearly shrieking the word. "You get away from me!"
Immediately she fell back to muttering under her breath. Besh was certain that she was whispering a spell and he expected to die in the next moment. But nothing happened, and she continued to speak, all the while staring at him, her eyes wide and wild, like those of some creature caught in a hunter's snare.
"Why are you here, Lici?" Besh asked, his voice quavering.
For just an instant her vision seemed to clear, and Besh had the sense that she could see him again.
"Mama brought me out here," she said. "I think she was angry with me. I didn't mean to lie to her, but what could I do?"
"Mama?" he repeated. "Who's-?" He shuddered. "Do you mean your mother?"