“I’ll pay your fare,” Elner volunteered. “I’d be glad of the company, and you can pay me back later. Maybe my father can give you a job, if you want, aboard one of his ships.”
“All right,” Arden said, obviously relieved. “I’d be grateful. I’m no sailor, though; maybe he could find a job for me on shore.”
“Whatever,” Elner said, dismissing the matter.
“Peren?” Tobas asked. “What are your plans?”
The albino did not answer for a long moment. Finally, he said, “What about you, Tobas? Aren’t you going back?”
Tobas hesitated for a few seconds before answering. He had been asking the others at least partly to help him make up his own mind. He had arrived at a decision, but was not yet entirely sure of it. “No,” he said slowly. “I don’t think I am, at least, not unless all three of you go back. There’s nothing for me in Dwomor or Ethshar, and I’m not welcome in Telven anymore. I was never very welcome in Ethshar, for that matter. I think I’d rather go on over the mountains into Aigoa, or whatever it is that’s on the other side, and see if I can find something profitable to do there. I’m not going to try and go alone, though; if all three of you want to go back to Dwomor, I’ll come with you and see about finding some way to make a living there, or to get to somewhere else.”
“I’ll come with you,” Peren said. “I don’t have anything in Dwomor or Ethshar, either.”
“Thank you,” Tobas said sincerely. He turned to the others. “Arden? Elner? Would you reconsider?”
Elner shook his head. “I’m going home,” he said emphatically.
Arden wavered, but then likewise shook his head. “No. I’m going with Elner. These mountains, and trees, and dragons, and castles, and princesses, they’re all strange. I’m going back to Ethshar. I grew up on the streets there and I guess that’s where I belong.”
Tobas nodded understanding; his own home was gone, but he did not begrudge the others theirs. “I guess this is good-bye, then. Peren and I will be heading on to the east, over the mountains, and you’ll be heading south, to the castle. We’ll probably never see each other again.” He paused, then said, “Good luck; may the gods watch over you.”
“Don’t be in such a hurry to get rid of us!” Elner said peevishly. “It’s almost sunset; I figure we’ll camp here tonight, the four of us, and split up in the morning.”
Tobas glanced at the western sky and realized Elner was right. “Well, then, let’s get the tents set up,” he said, reaching for his pack.
The four of them spent a pleasant evening together, talking about their lives, discussing wild schemes for disposing of the dragon, though they all knew none of them would be implemented, and enjoying one another’s company. The tensions that had previously kept them at arm’s length had faded with Tobas’ revelation of the extent of his wizardry and with the greater understanding that had resulted from the confrontation with the dragon.
In the morning they packed up the camp, divided the supplies, and headed off in their separate directions.
As Elner and Arden were about to vanish from sight among the trees, though, Tobas called after them, “Hey! What will you do if you meet the dragon?”
Elner turned back, drew his sword, flourished it over his head, took a heroic pose, and called back, “Run for our lives!”
Tobas and Peren laughed, then turned and hiked on up the slope.
CHAPTER 15 They came upon the ruined town on the morning of the second day after leaving their companions. Peren was the first to see it; he pointed it out to Tobas.
Although the ruins looked quite old, they were well up into the mountains by now, and Tobas wondered whether looters would have gotten this far. Even if they had, they might have missed a few items; the town looked fairly large. He could not imagine why a community of any size would have been built up among these empty mountains in the first place. Curiosity, combined with the possibility of finding abandoned valuables, compelled him to suggest they investigate more closely.
Peren had no objection, and together they headed across the forested valley that separated them from the ruins.
The town had been built into the stony slopes of a fair-sized mountain peak. Tobas estimated that it had once been home for three or four hundred people, but that seemed incredible up here in the barren middle of nowhere.
They reached the outskirts just after noon and paused to rest and eat before continuing.
When they had brushed away the last crumbs, they cautiously approached the nearest ruins and looked them over. Tobas guessed that the building had been a house, but a very peculiar house; the few windows were narrow slits, so that the interior would have been very dim and gloomy had the roof been present.
The rooms inside were arranged oddly. Tobas could not locate a kitchen at all; he found no oven and no chimney.
As Tobas poked through the scattered stones in a back room, Peren exclaimed in surprise. Tobas turned and peered back through the door; the albino was holding up something small and black.
“What is it?” Tobas asked.
“Sorcery!” Peren announced.
“Really?” Tobas came back to look at Peren’s find.
It was a convenient size and shape to fit in the palm of a man’s hand, partly corroded metal and partly something black that had a texture resembling shell or ivory. “What is it?” Tobas asked again, when he had studied it closely.
“I don’t know,” Peren admitted. “But doesn’t it look like a talisman? You’re the magician; don’t you know what it is?”
“I’m a wizard, not a sorcerer. I’ve never seen sorcery in my life. It looks like a lady’s jewel case to me, not a talisman.”
Offended, Peren took it back, saying, “Well, it looks sorcerous to me!”
“All right, maybe it is,” Tobas agreed.
They found nothing else of interest in that first building, and moved on to other ruins.
They turned up nothing of value. In one roofless and crumbling ruin Tobas found a sword lying atop a heap of rubble, thick with rust; when he picked it up the blade fell to powder, leaving him clutching the lead-wrapped hilt and sneezing uncontrollably, a long reddish rust streak down his arm.
“This place must have been built during the Great War,” he remarked. “Maybe they came up here to get away from the Northerners.”
“Or from the press gangs,” Peren suggested. “I can’t believe the Northerners ever got anywhere near this far into the Small Kingdoms.”
“How long would it take a sword to rust away like that, anyway?” Tobas asked. “The air up here is pretty dry, isn’t it?”
Peren nodded. “Yes, it is. I’d say that must have been lying there... oh, three or four hundred years, anyway. The war’s been over for two hundred, after all.”
Tobas looked at the hilt with increased respect for a moment before tossing it away. “Three hundred years ago, Telven was empty grassland.”
“Ethshar was about half the size it is now, I guess,” Peren said.
Tobas looked at his companion. “I suppose you’re used to old things, then, but in Telven... well, if my grandfather made it, it was old. We didn’t have anything from the war; Telven wasn’t built until long after it was over.”
“Where is Telven, then? You’ve never said.”
“Oh, it’s near the coast, west of Ethshar of the Sands,” Tobas said, trying to sound casual. His reply was truthful enough, if not quite complete. He was unsure how Peren might react to learning that his companion was a pirate’s son.
“Near the Pirate Towns?”
“Near there,” Tobas agreed uncomfortably.
They moved on, spending the rest of the day exploring the town. They found nothing of any value, but accumulated considerable evidence that led them to surmise that the place had been abandoned roughly three hundred years earlier, after only a century or so of occupation.