"I want them to participate, but I want eyes on them. Put Tebec on guard at the pens for the first watch, the same for Yetem, late watch. I'll think of something else tomorrow."
"Yes, war-leader."
Tonight's camp should be secure, Lonal calculated, but there was no certainty. He prepared himself for the first of several sleepless nights. When would the Buyul strike?
There was no incident. They reached the first campsite and, unlike previous stopovers, staked out the tents before nightfall. Lonal was pleased. The location was large enough for everyone, and all approaches were plainly visible. He stood beside the firepit, where the ritual flame had yet to be built, and stared farther up into the hills, wondering what threats they held. His first wife brought him some broth.
Tebec soon strolled up.
"Nannon abat se,"Lonal said.
The other replied smoothly in Zyraii, then reverted to the High Speech. "Fumlok has explained that we are in danger of attack by another Zyraii tribe."
"Yes. The Buyul."
"Each time he tries to explain why they would want to attack us, I don't understand."
"It's simple. The Buyul don't like us."
"Why not?"
Lonal shrugged. "Before I became war-leader, this pass was Buyul territory."
Tebec nodded slowly. "Then wouldn't another way be safer?"
"This is the best route. I wouldn't have taken it if I didn't intend to keep it."
Lonal began to stir the coals of the long-dead campfire. He frightened a small scorpion from its lair in the shade of one of the hearthstones. Its brood clung to its back. He flipped the creature over with a charred faggot, dumping off the little ones, and swiftly picked it up by the tail, holding it just short of the stinger.
He waved the arthropod in front of Tebec, swaying it so that it would not crawl up his fingers. His free hand indicated the orange markings spotting an otherwise dull yellow body.
"Not poisonous," he explained, and threw it back onto the charcoal. The offspring, grey as the sand and rock of the area, swiftly crawled back aboard. "It is called dukham, after the greatest sinner of all Zyraii. As punishment for his godless life, Dukham was reincarnated into the first of this particular species of scorpion, a creature so lowly it is denied even the luxury of a powerful venom."
Tebec, however, was not going to let the earlier topic be dropped.
"Why did you take the pass from the Buyul?"
Lonal considered telling him, but that would take far too long, and there were more important tasks for the moment. He settled for the simplest reply.
"Because I don't like them."
The apprehension thickened throughout the next day, as the three clans of the T'lil made their slow progress up the hills. The way was not difficult; it was simply impossible to hurry. Each stray noise brought palms to the hilts of demonblades. They stopped only when the heat was fiercest and continued on in spite of the sweat and the taxing climb. They saw a pair of the rare wild sheep of the region, several hawks, many snakes – but no hostile Po-no-pha.
"Do you suppose they've lost their balls?" Ulnam asked Lonal, after one of many patrols had returned with the same news: the Buyul were not to be found, nor were there any fresh traces.
"They haven't forgiven me yet," Lonal answered, and sent out more scouts.
The war-leader was near the westerners as they travelled through the pass. As they topped the crest, their view of the land suddenly expanded eastward. Ahead, the relatively easy road they had followed up the western slopes transformed into a twisting, double-backed aisle, cutting through a gradually receding series of parched ridges. Somewhere in that desolation the road forked, one way heading south, toward Buyul lands, the other east, to T'lil ground. That was the point of greatest danger. Lonal stared at the peaks that concealed it.
But the twins looked farther, past the hills to the incongruous sight near the horizon.
"Norym,"Yetem gasped.
It took Lonal a moment to translate from the High Speech. "Trees," he corrected. Small wonder that the Ah-no-ken had not yet taught them the Zyraii word. In this land, the term only had true meaning in the valley beyond the hills. They were so far away that any hint of green was distorted by the atmosphere into a kind of blue-grey, but the westerners obviously knew they were viewing a forest. The foliage meandered from north to south, a languorously winding track a league or more wide, occasionally thickening or narrowing, with several islands. Had Lonal not been preoccupied with his duties, he might have shared their awe. They were witnessing the lifeline of Zyraii.
"Ahloorm," Lonal said.
"How long until we get there?" Tebec asked.
"Five days."
They continued to gaze at the river, transfixed, until their family had left them well behind and they had to hurry to catch up. Lonal remained at the crest, where he could reconnoiter. Soon Shigmur came to report.
"We have been up and down the hills well past the border, and the odor of the Buyul is exceptionally faint. I don't understand it."
"Neither do I," Lonal answered, checking the low sun in the west. "As soon as camp is made, I will go to Toltac. It is time to undertake the Trance of the Searcher."
Toltac's words were a measured drone. Lonal was no longer consciously aware of their content. He breathed deeply, and then more deeply still, the oxygen stimulating therashemi in his lungs. He relaxed each muscle group, one by one, unsure whether this was at the Bo-no-ken's command or his own idea, and not caring which. His body felt heavy; it was too much effort to move it. He went numb.
And he was out.
Below him, he saw his own body, with Toltac hovering dutifully over it, still uttering his monologue. The haze of smoke from the brazier made the tent hazy and ill-defined. He lifted farther up and found he was outside. The camp lay below him, on a shelf of land a mile east of the pass, dotted with cooking fires and filled with the bustle of early evening activity. Though it was night, he could see the people, tents, and hills as if the sun were still up.
He began to float. Suddenly, the camp was no longer below. In rapid succession, his ethereal eyes sought out and found the places of his concern. He scanned the ridgetops that overlooked the road, checked the woodless dells and nullahs where groups of men might hide. Time meant nothing; it seemed to him as if he arrived at each new spot the instant he left the previous one. He recrossed the ground his scouts had patrolled the past two days and cast deeply into Buyul land. He followed the route the caravan would take out of the hills all the way to its end. And finally, he felt the tug in the small of his back. He had to return. In what seemed to be the next moment, he opened his eyes.
Toltac leaned over him, looking concerned.
"How long?" Lonal asked.
"Four hours," the high priest stated. "Most of the camp is asleep. You should get some rest. Any luck?"
"None," Lonal said in answer to Ulnam the next morning.
"Where are they? Why are they invisible?"
"I don't know."
"Perhaps they are waiting simply to make us nervous."
Lonal took out his demonblade and applied the whetstone. "The longer they wait, the less advantage they have. We will reach the fork before noon."
"What I wouldn't give to be riding through this pass with nothing but my best Po-no-pha." Ulnam sighed, glancing at the ranks of women, children, animals, and goods. "We could clear the hills in one forced gallop."
"Under those circumstances, the Buyul wouldn't be interested in attacking."
"That's the trouble with enemies."
The war-leader of the T'lan joined them. He had nothing more to report. Where are they?Lonal thought. He mistrusted the evidence of the trance, though it merely corroborated the physical reconnaissance of his scouts. He knew the unpredictability of travel in the astral form. He might have been viewing some strange parallel world, or perhaps it was the actual Pass of Hattyre he had seen, but in some other time. Perhaps the Buyul had clouded his vision, in the unlikely event that they had found a sorcerer so powerful. He wished they had the services of the Zee-no-ken. Though Toltac was well-schooled, the Zee-no-ken were the only true magicians of Zyraii. But the Zee-no-ken rarely devoted themselves to such mundane matters as military spying.