“Who?” Vorzheva caught his arm as he tried to straighten.
“Geloë.”
She cried out in grief.
“Three Norns attacked Camaris,” Josua explained. “Aditu, Geloë, and the Wrannaman Tiamak came to his aid. The Norns were killed, but Aditu says that Geloë took a fatal wound.” He shook his head. “I think she was the wisest of us all. Now she is gone and we cannot replace her.”
Vorzheva fell back. “But she was just here, Josua. She came with Aditu to see me. Now she is dead?” Tears filled her eyes.
Josua nodded sadly. “I came to see that you were safe. Now I must go meet with Isgrimnur and the others to decide what this means, what we will do.” He stood, then bent and kissed his wife again. “Do not sleep—and keep your knife, Gutrun—until I can send someone here to guard you.”
“No one else was hurt? Gutrun said that she saw fires.”
“Camaris’ tent. He seems to have been the only one attacked.” He began to move toward the door.
“But Josua,” Vorzheva said, “are you sure? Our camp is so big.”
The prince shook his head. “I am sure of nothing, but we have not heard of any other attacks. I will have someone here to guard you soon. Now I must hurry, Vorzheva.”
“Let him go, Lady,” Gutrun told her. “Lie back and try to sleep. Think of your child.”
Vorzheva sighed. Josua squeezed her hand, then turned and hastened from the tent.
Isgrimnur looked up as the prince strode into the light of the campfire. The cluster of men waiting for the prince stepped respectfully back, letting him pass. “Josua …” the duke began, but the prince did not let him finish.
“I have been foolish, Isgrimnur. It is not enough to have sentries running through the camp looking for signs of invading Norns. Aedon’s Blood, it took me long enough to realize it—Sludig!” he shouted. “Is Sludig somewhere nearby?”
The Rimmersman stepped forward. “Here, Prince Josua.”
“Send soldiers through the camp to see if everyone is accounted for, especially those of our party who might be at risk. Binabik and Strangyeard were with me until the fire started, but that does not mean they are safe still. It is late in the day for me to realize this might have been a diversion. And my niece, Miriamele—send someone to her tent immediately. And Simon, too, although he may be with Binabik.” Josua frowned. “If they wanted Camaris, it seems likely it was about the sword. Simon carried it for a while, so perhaps there is some danger to him as well. Damn me for my slow wits.”
Isgrimnur made a throat-clearing noise. “I already sent Freosel to look after Miriamele, Josua. I knew you would want to see Lady Vorzheva as soon as you could and I thought it should not wait.”
“Thank you, Isgrimnur. I did go to her. She and Gutrun are fine.” Josua scowled. “But I am shamed you have had to do my thinking.”
Isgrimnur shook his head. “Let’s just hope the princess is safe.”
“Freosel has been sent after Miriamele,” Josua told Sludig. “That is one less to hunt for. Go and see to the rest now. And post two guards at my tent, if you would. I will think better knowing that someone is watching over Vorzheva.”
The Rimmersman nodded. He commandeered a large portion of the soldiers who were milling aimlessly around Isgrimnur’s camp and went off to do as he had been bid.
“And now,” Josua said to Isgrimnur, “we wait. And think.”
Before the hour was too much older, Aditu reappeared; Father Strangyeard and Binabik were with her. They had gone with the Sitha to make sure Camaris and Tiamak were resting comfortably in the care of one of New Gadrinsett’s healing-women—and also, apparently, to talk, for they were all three deep in conversation when they reached Isgrimnur’s tent.
Aditu told Josua and the rest all the details of the night’s events. She spoke calmly, but Isgrimnur could not help noticing that, although she chose her words with as much care as ever, the Sitha seemed profoundly troubled. She and Geloë had been friends, he knew: apparently the Sithi felt grief just as mortals did. He liked her better for it, then dismissed the thought as unworthy. Why should immortals not take hurt like humans? From what Isgrimnur knew, they had certainly suffered at least as much.
“So.” Josua sat back and looked around the circle. “We have found no trace of anyone else being attacked. The question is, why did they single out Camaris?”
“There must be something to this Three Swords rhyme after all,” said Isgrimnur. He didn’t like such things: they made him feel as though the ground beneath his feet was unsolid, but that seemed to be the kind of world he found himself in. It was hard not to yearn for the clean edge that things had when he was younger. Even the worst of matters, like war, terrible as it was, had not been so shot through with strange sorceries and mysterious enemies. “They must have been after Camaris because of Thorn.”
“Or perhaps it was Thorn alone they were seeking for,” Binabik said soberly. “And Camaris was not of the most importance.”
“I still do not understand how they were able almost to overcome him,” Strangyeard said. “What is that poison you spoke of, Aditu?”
“Kei-vishaa. In truth, it is not just a poison: we Gardenborn use it in the Grove when it is time to dance the year’s end. But it can also be wielded to bring a long, heavy sleep. It was brought from Venyha Do’sae; my people used it when they first came here, to remove dangerous animals—some of them huge creatures whose like have long passed from Osten Ard—from the places where we wished to build our cities. When I smelled it, I knew that something was wrong. We Zida’ya have never used it for anything except the year-dancing ceremonies.”
“How is it used there?” the archivist asked, fascinated.
Aditu only lowered her eyes. “I am sorry, good Strangyeard, but that is not for me to say. I perhaps should not have mentioned it at all. I am tired.”
“We have no need to pry into your people’s rituals,” said Josua. “And we have more important things to speak of, in any case.” He turned an irritated look on Strangyeard, who hung his head. “It is enough that we know how they were able to attack Camaris without his raising an alarm. We are lucky that Tiamak had the presence of mind to set the tent ablaze. From now on, we will be absolutely rigid in the arrangement of our camp. All who are in any way at risk will set their tents close together in the very center, so we all sleep within sight of each other. I blame myself for indulging Camaris’ wish for solitude. I have taken my responsibilities too lightly.”
Isgrimnur frowned. “We must all be more careful.”
As the council turned to talk of what other precautions should be taken, Freosel appeared at the fireside. “Sorry, Highness, but the princess be not anywhere ’round her tent, nor did anyone see her since early.”
Josua was clearly upset. “Not there? Aedon preserve us, was Vorzheva right? Did they come for the princess after all?” He stood up. “I cannot sit here while she may be in danger. We must search the entire camp.”
“Sludig is doing that already,” said Isgrimnur gently. “We will only confuse things.”
The prince slumped down again. “You are right. But it will be hard to wait.”
They had barely resumed the discussion when Sludig returned, his face grim. He handed Josua a piece of parchment. “This was in young Simon’s tent.”
The prince read it quickly, then flung it down on the ground in disgust. A moment later he stooped for it, then handed it to the troll, his face stiff and angry. “I am sorry, Binabik, I should not have done that. It seems to be for you.” He stood. “Hotvig?”
“Yes, Prince Josua.” The Thrithings-man also stood.
“Miriamele has gone. Take as many of your riders as you can quickly find. The chances are good that she has headed toward Erkynland, so do most of your searching west of the camp. But do not ignore the possibility that she might go some other way to throw us off before she turns back to the west.”
“What?” Isgrimnur looked up in surprise. “What do you me
an, gone?”
Binabik looked up from the parchment. “This was written by Simon. It is seeming that he has gone with her, but he also says he will try to bring her back.” The troll’s smile was thin and obviously forced. “There is some question in my head about who is leading who. I am doubting Simon will convince her for coming back very soon.”
Josua gestured impatiently. “Go, Hotvig. God only knows how long they have been gone. As a matter of fact, since you and your riders are the fastest horsemen we have here, go west; leave the other part of the search to the rest of us.” He turned to Sludig. “We will ride around the camp, making our circle wider each time. I will saddle Vinyafod. Meet me there.” He turned to the duke. “Are you coming?”
“Of course.” Silently, Isgrimnur cursed himself. I should have known something was coming, he thought. She has been so quiet, so sad, so distant since we came here. Josua hasn’t seen the change as I have. But even if she thinks we should have marched on Erkynland, why would she go on her own? Fool of a headstrong child. And Simon. I thought better of that boy.
Already unhappy at the thought of a night in the saddle and what it would do to his sore back, Isgrimnur grunted and rose to his feet.
“Why won’t she wake up!?” Jeremias demanded. “Can’t you do something?”
“Hush, boy, I’m doing what I can.” Duchess Gutrun bent and felt Leleth’s face again. “She is cool, not feverish.”
“Then what’s wrong with her?” Jeremias seemed almost frantic. “I tried to wake her for a long time, but she just lay there.”
“Let me give another cover for her,” Vorzheva said. She had made room in the bed for the girl to lie beside her, but Gutrun had disallowed it, frightened that Leleth had some sickness which Vorzheva might catch. Instead, Jeremias had carefully set the girl’s limp form on a blanket upon the ground.
“You just lie still and I’ll worry about the child,” the duchess told her. “This is altogether too much noise and fretting.”
Prince Josua stepped through the door, unhappiness etched on his face. “Is there not enough gone wrong? The guard said someone was sick. Vorzheva? Are you well?”
“It is not me, Josua. The little girl Leleth, she cannot be wakened.”
Duke Isgrimnur stumped in. “A damned long ride and no sign of Miriamele,” he growled. “We can only hope that Hotvig and his Thrithings-men have better luck than we did.”
“Miriamele?” Vorzheva asked. “Has something happened to her, also?”
“She has ridden off with young Simon,” Josua said grimly.
“This is a cursed night,” Vorzheva groaned. “Why does this all happen?”
“To be fair, I don’t think it was the lad’s idea.” Isgrimnur bent and put his arm about his wife’s shoulders, then kissed her neck. “He left a letter which said he would try to bring her back.” The duke’s eyes narrowed. “Why is the girl here? Was she hurt in the fire?”
“I brought her,” Jeremias said miserably. “Duchess Gutrun asked me to look after her tonight.”
“I didn’t want her underfoot with Vorzheva so sick.” Gutrun could not entirely hide her own discomfort. “And it was just for a while, when Geloë was going to meet with you men.”
“I was with her all evening,” Jeremias explained. “After she was asleep, I fell asleep, too. I didn’t mean to. I was just tired.”
Josua turned and looked at the young man kindly. “You did nothing wrong to fall asleep. Go on.”
“I woke up when everyone was shouting about the fire. I thought Leleth would be frightened, so I went over to let her know I was still there. She was sitting up with her eyes open, but I don’t think she heard a word I said. Then she fell back and her eyes closed, like she was sleeping. But I couldn’t wake her up! I tried for a long time. Then I brought her here to see if Duchess Gutrun could help.” As Jeremias finished, he was on the verge of tears.
“You did nothing wrong, Jeremias,” the prince repeated. “Now, I need you to do something for me.”
The young man caught his breath on the verge of a sob. “W-What, your Highness?”
“Go to Isgrimnur’s tent and see if Binabik has returned. The troll knows something of healing. We will have him look at young Leleth.”
Jeremias, only too glad to have something useful to do, hurried out.
“In truth,” Josua said, “I no longer know what to think of all that has happened tonight—but I must admit that I am very fearful for Miriamele. Damn her frowardness.” He clutched Vorzheva’s blanket in his fingers and twisted it in frustration.
There had been no change in Leleth’s condition when Jeremias returned with Binabik and Aditu. The little man inspected the girl closely.
“I have seen her being like this before,” he said. “She is gone away somewhere, to the Road of Dreams or some other place.”
“But surely she has never been like this for so long,” Josua said. “I cannot help but think it has something to do with the night’s happenings. Could the Norn poison have made her this way, Aditu?”
The Sitha kneeled beside Binabik and lifted the little girl’s eyelids, then laid her slim fingers below Leleth’s ear to feel how swiftly her heart beat. “I do not think so. Surely this one,” she indicated Jeremias, “would also have been struck if the Kei-vishaa had spread so far.”
“Her lips are moving!” Jeremias said excitedly. “Look!”
Although she still lay as if deeply asleep, Leleth’s mouth was indeed opening and closing as though she would speak.
“Silence.” Josua leaned closer, as did most of the others in the room.
Leleth’s lips worked. A whisper of sound crept out. “… hear me …”
“She said something!” Jeremias exulted, but was stilled by a look from the prince.
“… I will speak anyway. I am fading. I have only a short time left.” The voice that issued from the little girl’s mouth, though thin and breathy, had a familiar cadence.
“… There is more to the Norns than we suspect, I think. They play some double game … Tonight was not a feint, but something even more subtle …”
“What’s wrong with the child?” Gutrun said nervously. “She’s never spoken before—and she sounds wrong.”
“That is Geloë speaking.” Aditu spoke calmly, as though she identified a familiar figure coming up the road.
“What?” The duchess made the Tree sign, her eyes wide with fear. “What witchcraft is this?”
The Sitha leaned close to Leleth’s ear. “Geloë?” she said. “Can you hear me?”
If it was the wise woman, she did not seem to hear her friend’s voice. “… Remember what Simon dreamed … the false messenger.” There was a pause. When the voice resumed it was quieter, so that all in the room held their breath in an effort not to obscure a word. “… I am dying. Leleth is here with me somehow, in this … dark place. I have never understood her completely, and this is strangest of all. I think I can speak through her mouth, but I do not know if anyone is listening. My time is short. Remember: beware a false messenger. …”
There was another long, silent interval. When everyone was certain that they had heard the last, Leleth’s lips moved again. “I am going now. Do not mourn me. I have had a long life and did what I wished to do. If you would remember me, remember that the forest was my home. See that it is respected. I will try to send Leleth back, although she does not want to leave me. Farewell. Remember …”
The voice faded. The little girl again lay like one dead.
Josua looked up. His eyes were bright with tears. “To the last,” he said, almost in anger, “she tried to help us. Oh, God the Merciful, she was a brave soul.”
“An old soul,” Aditu said quietly, but did not elaborate. She seemed shaken.
Though they sat around the bedside in heavy, mournful silence for some time, Leleth did not stir any more. Geloë’s absence seemed even more powerful, more devastating than it had earlier in the evening. Other eyes besides Josua’s filled with tears of so
rrow and fear as the realization of the company’s loss settled in. The prince began to speak quietly of the forest woman, praising her bravery, wit, and kindness, but no one else seemed to have the heart to join in. At last he sent them all off to rest. Aditu, saying that she felt no need to sleep, stayed to watch over the child in case she awakened in the night. Josua lay down fully dressed beside his wife, ready for whatever calamity might befall next. Within moments, he had fallen into a deep, exhausted slumber.
In the morning, the prince awakened to discover Aditu still watching over Leleth. Wherever the child’s spirit had journeyed with Geloë, it had not yet returned.
Not long afterward, Hotvig and his men rode into camp, weary and empty-handed.
28
Ghost Moon
Simon and Miriamele rode in near-silence, the princess leading as they made their way down into the valley on the far side of the hills. After they had gone a league or more, Miriamele turned them north so that they were riding back along the same track the company had taken on its way to Gadrinsett.
Simon asked her why.
“Because there are already a thousand fresh hoofprints here,” Miriamele explained. “And because Josua knows where I’m going, so it would be stupid to head straight that way in case they find out we’ve left tonight.”
“Josua knows where we’re going?” Simon was disgruntled. “That’s more than I do.”
“I’ll tell you about it when we’re far enough that you can’t ride back in one night,” she said coolly. “When I’m too far away for them to catch me and bring me back.”
She would not answer any more questions.
Simon squinted at the bits of refuse that lined the wide, muddy track. A great army of people had crossed this way twice now, along with several other smaller parties that had made their way to Sesuad’ra and New Gadrinsett; Simon thought it would be a long time before the grass grew on this desolated swath again.