"Why put up with them at all? When we had problems like that we’d kick the troublemakers off the system. Or turn them over to the cops—ah, the authorities."
"You have an easier time than we do, Sparrow," Moira said ruefully. "There is no way to bar a magician from making magic, so we cannot ’kick them off the system.’ As for the authorities, well, the Council exists in part to check the League but this is not a thing easily done.
"Individually the ones of the League are mighty sorcerers. Toth-Set-Ra, their present leader," Moira made a warding sign, "is the mightiest wizard in all the World."
"If he’s so powerful how come he hasn’t taken the North?"
"Because the League contains the seeds of its own destruction," Moira said. "To conquer the North, the League would have to act in careful concert. This they cannot do because of the rivalries within. The Mighty are more constrained than the sorcerers of the League and so perhaps not so powerful individually. But they work easily together and can defeat any of the League’s efforts.
"The League is like the Phoenix which renews itself by regular immolation. When it is sundered by contention and many strive for the Dark Throne, then we of the North have a time of peace. When a strong leader emerges and brings most of the wizards of the South under his sway, the League harries the North and magics are loosed upon the land." Moira sighed. "Twas ever so. And now we live in a time when the League is united as never before.
"Toth-Set-Ra," again the warding sign, "is a mighty sorcerer, skilled in magic and cunning in lore. And it is our age’s woe that he has especially powerful tools at his command."
"It doesn’t sound very secure to me," Wiz said dubiously.
"Little in life is secure," Moira replied. "But we contrive." She rose and moved to the other side of the fire.
"And now let us see if we can get some sleep, Sparrow. Morning comes early and we still have far to go."
Three
The Watcher at the Well
The land was different here. The valleys were narrower, the ridges more numerous and the slopes steeper. But the trees were as tall and their leaves shut out the sun as fully as they had in the flatter country behind them.
The forest was making Wiz claustrophobic, but since the water meadow open spaces didn’t appeal to him either.
They were following the valleys now, but Wiz wasn’t sure it was an improvement. Moira seemed to become more nervous. When they walked they went as fast, but Moira stopped more often to listen intently. She spoke seldom and only in whispers and she glared fiercely at Wiz every time a branch cracked under his feet.
Finally they came up a gentle rise and looked down into a valley even steeper and narrower than the ones around them. From the disturbance of the treetops Wiz could make out the line of a road or a stream running through its center.
Moira placed her enchanting head next to Wiz’s, so close he could count the freckles on her cheek and inhale the fragrance of her hair.
"The Forest Road," Moira whispered nodding at the line. "We must follow its track."
"I thought we needed to stay under cover," Wiz whispered back dubiously.
"I said we would follow the road, not walk it. If we keep to the wood we should be all right." She grasped his wrist and squeezed hard. "But make no sound. This place is a natural funnel and if the League realizes we are bound into the Wild Wood, this is where they will set their traps."
Cautiously then they went downhill until they struck a game trail that ran along the slope. As they moved with it, the land gradually grew steeper. Although he couldn’t see, Wiz had the impression that the valley was narrowing as well.
"Hsst." Moira tugged at Wiz’s sleeve. "Voices. Off the path." She looked left and right and then surprised Wiz by scrambling up the steep bank. They climbed like frightened squirrels until they were nearly thirty feet above the trail. They flattened themselves against the slope with a thin screen of bushes between them and the path below.
Two men came up the path. They were dressed in rough homespun. The taller one was lean and balding with a narrow rodent face and greasy stringy blond hair. The shorter one was also blond, but he was beefier, younger and his hair fuller. The tall one carried a machete-like sword that he swung idly with a practiced motion of the wrist. The other had a big knife or short sword thrust scabbardless through his belt. Wiz held his breath as they came close.
"What is it we’re looking for anyway?" the younger man asked.
"Gold, me lad. Two bags of gold walking around in human skins." He swished the frond off a fern with a casual swing of his chopping sword. "There’s a man and a woman as might be making for the Wild Wood and there’s those who would pay steep for them."
Don’t look up, Wiz prayed, please don’t look up!
"What do they look like?" the young man asked as the pair passed the spot where Wiz and Moira lay.
"Like strangers, and strangers at the Gap are easy enough to find."
The man asked another question but they turned a corner in the path and the woods and distance made their speech unintelligible.
Wiz and Moira looked at each other.
"We don’t have to ask who they’re looking for, do we?" Wiz whispered.
Moira gestured him to silence and motioned for him to wait. He realized the pair who had just passed might be the vanguard of a larger party and clamped his mouth shut.
Minutes ticked by before Moira gestured him up and on. They climbed down from their perch and plunged downslope into the forest, breasting through thickets and thrusting past tangles of underbrush. The going was slower and noisier but somehow that seemed like a reasonable tradeoff.
At last Moira stopped them under a large clump of something multi-stemmed and leafy.
"Were those guys from the League?" Wiz asked in a whisper.
Moira shook her head. "Not they. They owe allegiance to naught but gold. There are robbers who haunt the Forest Road. Apparently the League offers rich reward for us and that has served to concentrate them."
"So what do we do now?"
"We must go on. The problem comes when we reach the Forest Gate ahead. That is a pass barely wider than the Forest Road itself. It marks the end of Fringe and the beginning of the Wild Wood and it will doubtless be guarded."
"Can we go around?"
Moira shook her head firmly. "We must go through the Gate itself."
"How do we get through?"
She smiled grimly. "Cautiously, Sparrow. Very cautiously indeed. Now move as quietly as you can, and no talking! That pair were not woodsmen, but a few of these rogues are skilled rangers indeed."
They went ahead even more slowly now. Wiz joined Moira in scanning the woods. After their encounter with the robbers the forest seemed even more oppressive. Every tree or bush became a potential hiding place until the woods seemed alive with bandits waiting to pounce. A burst of birdsong would make Wiz start and the scampering of a squirrel in a tree would reduce him to terror.
Finally Moira halted and pointed. Wiz followed her finger and saw the Forest Gate.
Ahead the canyon narrowed into a gorge. At the bottom it was only wide enough for the road and a rocky stream. The gray stone walls rose sheer for a hundred feet or more before the canyon widened out and the trees grew on the slope, which rose for hundreds of feet.