Into Harrowdale the road narrowed. Before the long war of the invasion, men had spread out and out to north and west, putting under tillage land uncut by plough before. And then there had been travel on these roads, pack merchants, hill lords and their men, families with their worldly possessions on carts, driving their stock, moving out to fresh new lands. But since the war years communication across the Dales had dwindled, and what had been roads became mountain tracks—narrowed and blurred by the growth of vegetation.
There was little or no talk among our party as we rode, not mounted on such horses as the host kept for raiding and battle, but rather on shaggy coated, short legged beasts, ambling of pace, yet with vast powers of endurance and deep lungs to take the rough up and down going of the back country with uncomplaining and steady gait.
At first, we rode three and four abreast, one or two of the escort with each pair of women. Then we strung out farther as the brush encroached and the road became a lane. I was content to keep silence behind veil and hood. For a space I had ridden stiff of back, tense, lest some call from the Abbey...a rider sent after...would reveal me for what I was. Still did it puzzle me that the Abbess Yulianna had not unmasked me in that farewell moment. Did she have such tenderness for Marimme that she was willing to let the deception stand to save a favourite? Or did she consider me a disturbing factor in her placid community, of whom she would be well rid? Every hour we travelled lessened the chance of any return. And Imgry forced the pace where he could, conferring with the taciturn guide who led our party at least twice during the morning. How far away was our rendezvous? I only knew that it lay upon the edge of the waste at some point of landscape which was so noteworthy as not to be mistaken.
Harrowdale with its isolated farms was gone, and yet the road climbed with us. Save for our own party we might have passed through a deserted countryside. No animal, no bird—and certainly no man—came into sight. When winter wrapped the farms their people kept much indoors, the women busy at their looms, the men at such tasks as they wished.
Now followed the sharper descent into Hockerdale and the murmur of water, for the swift flowing stream there was not yet completely ice roofed. We passed a guard post at the head of that dale, and men turned out to salute our leader and exchange words with him and the guide. It was at that pause another pony edged close to mine and she who rode it leaned a little forward in her saddle.
“Do they mean to never give us any ease?” she asked, perhaps of me, perhaps only of the air, that her words might carry to Lord Imgry.
“It would seem not so.” I made my answer low-voiced, for I did not want to be heard abroad.
She pulled impatiently at her veil and her hood fell back a little. This was that Kildas whom Tolfana had pricked with her spite at the table. There were dark shadows under her green-blue eyes in this wan light, a pinching about her full lipped mouth, as if both harsh dayshine and the cold had aged and withered her for the nonce.
“You are his choice.” she nodded to Lord Imgry. “But you ride mum this morning. What whip of fear did he use to bind you to his purpose? Last eve you swore you would not come—“ There was not any sympathy in her, just curiosity, as if her own discomfort might be eased a little by seeing the sores of another sufferer exposed.
“I had the night for reflection.” I made the best reply I could.
She laughed shortly. “Mighty must have been those reflections to produce so collected a mind this day! Your screams had the halls ringing bravely when they took you forth. Do you now fancy a sorcerer bridegroom?”
“Do you?” I countered. The thought that Marimme had made such a show of her fear and revulsion was a small worry now. I was not Marimme and I could not counterfeit her well. Lord Imgry had been engrossed all morning in his urge for speed. But what would happen when he found he had been befooled? He needed me to make up the tale of the Bargain, and that should protect me from the full force of any wrath that he would feel upon learning of the substitution.
“Do I?” Kildas drew me out of my thoughts. “As all of us, I have no choice. But—should these Weremen share much with those of our own kind, then I do not fear.” She tossed her head, strengthened by her confidence in herself and those weapons chance and nature had given her. “No, I do not fear that I shall be ill received by him who waits my coming!”
“What are they like? Have you ever seen a Rider?” I set myself to explore what she might know. Until this time I had been far more intent upon escape and what lay behind me, than what waited at this ride’s end.
“Seen them?” she answered my last question first. “No. They have not come into the Dales, save on raids against Alizon. And they are said then to travel by night, not day. As to what they are like—they wore man forms when they treated with us, and they have strange powers—” Kildas’ confidence ebbed and again her fingers pulled at the veil about her throat as if she found it hard to breathe and some cord pressed there against her flesh. “If more is known—that has not been told us.” I heard a catch of breath, not far removed from sob to my left. Another had come level with us. Her travel worn robe—she was Solfinna who had shared Kildas’ plate the night before—her poverty put further to shame by the other’s display.
“Weep out your eyes if you wish, Solfinna.” snapped Kildas. “A pool of tears as deep as the sea will not change the future.”
Solfinna started, as if that voice, whip-sharp, was indeed a thong laid about her hunched shoulders. And I think that Kildas then took shame, for she said in a softer voice:
“Thank you—this was a free choice for you. Thus are you the greater than the rest of us. And since you believe in prayer, do you not also believe that right and good come to just rewards, even if there must be a time of waiting?”
“You choose to come?” I asked.
“It—it was a way to help.” Solfinna paused and then spoke more firmly, “You are right, Kildas. To do a thing because it is right, and then to bewail the doing because one fears, throws away all that one must believe in. Yet I would give much to see my lady mother, and my sisters and Wasscot Keep once again. And never shall I.”
“Would that not also be so in regular marriage?” Kildas asked with a gentleness she had not shown before. “If you had been betrothed to lord or Captain of the south Dales, there would have been no returning.”
“So do I remember. To that thought I hold.” Solfinna said quickly. “We are betrothed, in truth. We go to our weddings. It is as it had been for womenkind for untold years. And for my going so, those left behind gain much. Yet the Riders—”
“Look upon this though, also. Test it in your mind.” I said. “These Riders so wanted wives that they set up a war bargain to gain them. And when a man so much wants a thing that he will gamble his life to its gaining, then I think once it is in his hands he will cherish and hold it in no little esteem.”
Solfinna turned to look at me more closely. Her red-rimmed eyes blinked as if she would focus them upon me for keener sight. And I heard a little exclamation from Kildas, who urged her mount even closer.
“Who are you?” she demanded with a force which disputed any denial. “You are not that wailing maid they carried from the hall last night!”
Need I try to play the counterfeit with my fellows in the train? There was no great reason for that. Perhaps we were already past the point where Lord Imgry could make adequate protest.
“You are right. I am not Marimme—”
“Then who?” Kildas continued to press, while Solfinna watched me now with eyes rounded by astonishment.
“I am Gillan, one who dwelt at the Abbey for some years. I have no kin and this is my free choice.”
“If you have no kin to compel you, nor to profit from your free choice.” that was Solfinna her amazement now in her voice, “why do you come?”