The Paths of the Dead Page 13

"Well, the second or third time it happens, unless the threat is more severe, or the goal to be accomplished is greater, it is no longer an adventure, but merely an annoyance. Now, it is true that I have, once or twice, encountered bandits or highwaymen—"

  "How, you have?"

  "As I said, once or twice, and yet—"

  "Well?"

  "Well, never during these encounters was there an occasion to draw steel, for such as these will rarely attack a man who may choose to fight back."

  "Ah, I see."

  "Upon first leaving Dzur Mountain, I fancy I saw a dragon, but it was far away and asleep, and may indeed have been nothing more than a peculiar formation of rock, such as occur there to provide grist for the stories about the Enchantress."

  "Then you don't believe the stories of the Enchantress changing people into stone and into animals?"

  "I don't know," said Kytraan reflectively. "I could, perhaps, believe either one by itself, but I cannot imagine why she should wish to turn someone first into one and then into the other. Moreover, I cannot see why, if she had the power to do such a thing, she would fail to simply kill the intruder."

  "There is some justice in what you say," admitted Piro.

  "Do you think so?"

  "I am sure of it."

  "Well, then I am satisfied."

  "But, continue. You were discussing adventure."

  "Ah, yes, so I was. Well, to conclude, I expected adventure on my way to visit you, good Piro, but I am forced to say that nothing happened beyond my being woken in the night by some unknown man or animal, which promptly retreated upon the introduction of another stick to the fire that has always been the best friend of the woodsman."

  "You say you had been expecting adventure, but had you been hoping for it as well?"

  "Ah, as to that—"

  "Well?"

  "I don't say I wasn't."

  "If your journey hither, alone, was uneventful," said Piro regretfully, "then, with two of us, it is unlikely we shall encounter much to cause excitement."

  "That is my opinion," said Kytraan. "Yet consider whither we are bound: is it not adventure enough to visit Dzur Mountain? And consider that you go there in pursuit of some sort of mission. My friend, I fully expect, if adventure is your desire, adventure is what you will have, and that before too much time has passed."

  "Well, that is true," said Piro. Then he laughed and said, "Though I have heard that those who have had the most desire the least when all is over."

  "And I have heard the same. And yet—"

  "Well?"

  "You know of your father's friend, Tazendra?"

  "I have heard of her, yes. But then, she is a Dzur."

  "That is true; such feelings do not apply to Dzurlords."

  Piro sighed. "I should love to meet her, and those others of whom my father speaks with such fondness, and of whom my mother tells such stories."

  "Your father does not tell stories?"

  "Of himself? Rarely. The memories are, I believe, too painful."

  "It is a shame, though," said Kytraan. "In those days, there were heroes. And, as you know—"

  "Well?"

  "Girls like heroes."

  "That is but natural," agreed Piro. "Indeed, that would be sufficient reason for adventure, even if there were no others."

  "You have expressed my thoughts so well that I can do nothing except agree."

  Piro nodded. "That, then, is the plan: we will have adventures, and then we'll meet girls."

  "I am in complete agreement with your plan, my friend."

  "Ah, you call me your friend."

  "Well, and if I do?"

  "I am gratified, and I hope you will do me the honor of allowing me the same privilege."

  "Of a certainty, my dear fellow. Here is my hand."

  "And here is mine."

  "There, we are friends."

  "Good. Now, who has the first watch?"

  "Our worthy servant, Lar."

  "Lar, are you on watch?"

  "Entirely, my lord, and I give you my word that nothing larger than a rollbug will escape my eyes, and nothing louder than a damp leaf will escape my ears. And this will be easier, as I am now in a region I know well."

  "You have been here before?" asked Piro.

  "With those brigands of whom I told you, my lord."

  "Then there may be brigands about?"

  "Oh, yes, indeed. They like this region, because of the large number of roads that pass and intersect, many of which are still in use."

  "Well, then, you will wake me in three hours?"

  "As nearly three hours as I can manage, my lord. You perceive there are at present no ratbirds in the vicinity."

  "How, ratbirds?" said Kytraan.

  "I will explain on another occasion," said Piro. "Very well, then, to bed, and perhaps sleep can relieve these muscles of some of the stiffness they acquired from being on horseback for so long!"

  "That is not likely," remarked Kytraan. "You perceive that sleeping on the ground is not conducive to easing sore muscles. Nevertheless, it will pass. Very soon, you will not even notice."

  "I hope you are right," said Piro, and, almost on the word, he had drifted off to sleep.

  In the days that followed, they continued along trails and paths that had been cut through the jungle, stopping at streams to fill their water-bottles, and looking at the desolation of what had once been villages along the various larger waterways, until at last, with a surprising abruptness, the jungle turned into grassland: long, seemingly endless, and with no explanation of why it should make such a drastic change with so little warning; nevertheless what had once been a road still ran through it, so their rate of travel was unchanged. As the hours and days passed, they visited one or two villages that were not quite deserted, but found little to say to the dispirited inhabitants, and so, finding nothing that appeared to be an inn, they proceeded on, keeping their horses to a gentle walk, and speaking little even among themselves.

  Late one evening, after they had been on the road nearly two weeks, and Piro was scarcely noticing his muscles, as they were about to make camp, they saw the flickering of another light, a few hundred meters away; and by mutual consent they turned their horses toward this light. They stopped just inside the ring of illumination given off by what proved to be a campfire, so that whoever it was whose camp they were visiting could see their number and their faces. For an instant, there was a stillness; Piro could hear nothing save his own breathing, Kytraan's, and the jingle of the harness of Piro's horse, which horse, we should add, gave Piro a quick look as if it wondered why they had stopped, before abruptly shaking its head, stamping its right forefoot, and snorting.

  This silence, or near-silence, was broken at last by Kytraan, who said, "I give you good evening, stranger. We are travelers, and wonder if you would do us the honor of sharing your fire for the evening. We have wine, bread, cheese, and certain salted meats which we have but lately tested and found good, and we are more than willing to share them."

  The reply came after only an instant. "Come, then," said the stranger, a woman from the sound of her voice. "I have boiled coffee, dried fruits, salt, and biscuits, and I am, like yourselves, entirely willing to share."

  They dismounted, hobbled their horses, and approached the fire, where sat a woman who, though it was difficult to see in the flickering of the fire, seemed to be about eight or nine hundred years old. It was impossible to guess her House, but she had, at any rate, a noble's point, which seemed sufficient for the moment.

  "I am Kytraan e'Lanya of the North Pinewood Hold. This is my companion, Piro, the Viscount of Adrilankha."

  "I give you good evening. I am called Orlaan, and I am not a traveler at all, but, rather, I live here."

  "How, you live here?"

  "Exactly. I am attempting the study of sorcery, and the control of certain forces, and, you perceive, such matters are best performed where there is no one around, in case of a miscalculation."

  "We
ll, I understand," said Piro. "And permit me to wish you well in your studies."

  "You are courteous," said Orlaan, "and I wish you a safe and pleasant journey. But come, your servant appears to have nearly finished laying out the food; let us then eat together, after which you will no doubt wish to rest."

  "An excellent plan," said Kytraan.

  This being agreed upon, they carried it out at once, and for some time there was little speech, mouths being occupied with exploring such concepts as goat cheese on bread with slices of dried apple, and how this might compare to the same cheese with salted kethna on a savory biscuit. During this time, Piro took the opportunity to study their host; yet he could learn little. Her clothing was the darr skin and leather of a traveler, and her face, seen only through the flickering light of the fire, revealed little save narrow but bright eyes, rather fair hair and skin, and a few small scars such as one might expect on someone who lived in the wilderness. As they ate, Piro began to grow uncomfortable, because it seemed to him that Orlaan kept sneaking glances at him. This naturally made him curious, but he refrained from asking any questions. Orlaan, however, did not refrain, but rather proved that Piro had not been imagining her interest, because she said, "You are the Viscount, you say, of Adrilankha?"

  "I have that honor," said Piro.

  "Adrilankha is a large city along the coast, is it not? It used to be a port, if I am not mistaken."

  "You are correct. It is in the county of Whitecrest."

  "Ah. And your father, then, is Whitecrest?"

  "My mother, the Lady Daro."

  "Daro," she repeated, as if she had heard the name pronounced before, and was trying to collect it. "And is your father still living?"

  "He is," said Piro. "I am, you perceive, one of the fortunate ones."

  "Indeed," said Orlaan. "My own father was in Dragaera at the time of the Disaster."

  "I am sorry."

  "The Cycle turns," said Orlaan. "Or, at any rate, it did," she amended. "And might again."

  "The gods may know," agreed Piro. "But come, what of your studies? I have heard that some are trying to learn once more the art of sorcery as it was practiced before the dawn of history, when there was no Orb. Is this not dangerous?"

  "Dangerous? Yes, it is dangerous. And yet, we have an advantage that the sorcerers of those bygone days did not."

  "And that is? For you perceive I am curious."

  "What young man is not curious? To answer your question, our advantage is this: We know it can be done."

  "Ah. That is true. We know, for example, that a device can be built to control the power of amorphia."

  "Exactly. And it is toward this end that we direct our efforts."

  "In hopes of restoring the Empire?"

  "Perhaps, someday. Or of creating a new one. Or, often, merely of learning."

  "And yet, to enter the amorphia without the intercession of the Orb, well, the thought frightens me."

  "And well it should, young man, for it is nothing to be entered upon lightly. And, you perceive, I have put several thousands of miles of distance between me and the sea of amorphia, as a precaution, so I am not entirely foolhardy, as some are."

  "As some are?"

  "Why, yes. There are those who venture to the very shores to work, and even, I am told, some who have entered the sea bodily, there to work with the stuff of chaos itself."

  "How, entered the sea?"

  "Yes, entered the sea itself, although—"

  "Yes?"

  "Well, I have heard of none who have emerged after doing so."

  "I wish you well in your studies; for it seems to me that these studies may be of great benefit to us all."

  "So I hope, young man," said Orlaan. For an instant, Piro thought he saw a peculiar gleam in her eye, but then he decided it had been a trick of the firelight.

  There was no more speech that night, as everyone felt the need for sleep, and when they awoke the next morning, they found that their companion of the night before had left.

  "For my part," opined Lar, "I am just as glad. Did you mark the peculiar look in her eye? I wish I had been able to see her more clearly."

  Piro merely shrugged, and permitted Lar to assist him, and then Kytraan, onto their horses. This being done, they turned the head of these horses and, without another word, resumed their journey toward Dzur Mountain.

  Chapter the Thirteenth

  How Khaavren Received

  an Unexpected Visitor

  At very nearly the same hour that Piro and Kytraan were mounting their horses, Piro's father, that is to say, Khaavren, was standing in his study at Whitecrest Manor, where, careless of the cold, he had thrown open the window in the eastern end of the room and was looking out over, or rather past, the city of Adrilankha, as if his eyes could span the leagues and pick out the form of his son now lost in the distance and the terrain. He had been standing in this way for some few hours, and might well have been standing so even longer had not Daro, guessing his mind, come to the study and found him, whereupon she stood next to him for perhaps a quarter of an hour, not speaking, after which he stirred and said, "Do you suppose we would feel it if something were to happen to him?"

  "I think we would," said Daro.

  Khaavren nodded, and at that moment came a faint booming, as the great door clapper was pulled down below. "Hmmm," said Khaavren. "We hire a servant, and he is gone almost at once."

  "That was the intention, was it not?"

  "Yes," said Khaavren, "that is true."

  "Perhaps Cook will answer it."

  "Or perhaps not," said Khaavren. "And it is the front door, from which we may deduce that our visitor has pretensions to nobility, and ought not to be kept waiting. I will, therefore, personally endeavor to see who has come to visit us, and, in thus bestirring myself, I will engage in more activity than I have in longer than I care to consider." He accompanied these words with a smile, from which Daro was to understand that his self-mockery was meant in jest; she, however, knew him well, and understood the meaning behind words and countenance. Khaavren walked down the stairs, trudging, yet with a hint of his old martial step still remaining in his gait.

  He was on the stairs between the first floor and the main when he met Cook, who had, in fact, answered the door, and after doing so was now on her way up. Upon seeing Khaavren, she stopped and made a bow. "My lord—" she said.

  "Well?"

  "There is a gentleman to see you."

  "A gentleman?"

  "Yes, lord."

  "Well, has he a name?"

  "Indeed he has, my lord. In point of fact, he has two of them."

  "How, two names?"

  "Exactly. In case, he said, one should be insufficient to identify him."

  "Well, and what are these famous names?"

  "My lord, he said that he is called Galstan, and adds that, should this identification be insufficient, he is also called—"

  "Pel!" cried Khaavren, nearly bowling over the poor cook in his haste to arrive at the bottom of the stairs and behold his friend once more.

  "—Pel," concluded the cook as she nimbly stepped to the side of the stairway, which was, fortunately, rather wide.

  "Pel!" cried Khaavren again, before he had even reached the entry-way. "Come in, come in and be welcome."

  Pel, evidently hearing him, came forward, and they met in the corridor outside of the parlor, where they embraced fervently and said nothing, except for Khaavren, who murmured, "Ah, Pel, Pel."

  At length, Galstan pulled back slightly and said, "Yes, my friend, it is I. But come, what state have I found you in?"

  "Not good, my old comrade, not good. Come in, though, come in. My wine-cellar, thanks to the gods of the vine, is not entirely depleted, and you shall have the best there is. This way. You remember the Countess, do you not?" This last, we should add, was said of Daro, who had come down from the study and was now waiting in the parlor.

  "Of course," said Pel, bowing and kissing her hand. "Madam, I am, as a
lways, enchanted."

  "The pleasure is entirely mine," said the Countess, "and I hope you do not begrudge it, for in no way am I so selfish as in my desire to have good friends around, wherefore I hope you will do us the honor of staying with us for a long time; I know that I speak for my husband the Count as well as for myself in saying that the longer you will be here, the more we will be pleased."

  "Bah," said Pel with a smile. "What have you married, my dear Khaavren? A Tiassa who looks like a Lyorn and speaks like an Issola."

  Pel handed his coat to the cook, who was, as the reader may have noticed, taking the role of butler; the cook then proceeded to open, decant, and pour the wine. "Ah Pel," remarked Khaavren, "it is good to see you! Have you had a long journey?"

  "Tolerably long," said Pel. "Six days ago I was in the Kanefthali Mountains."

  "Six days!" cried Khaavren. "Impossible! How could you have arrived so quickly? It is a fifteen hundred miles and more!"

  "The post," said Pel.

  "The post? Cha! There has been no post for two hundred and fifty years."

  "And yet," said Pel, "there is again, and the proof is that I am sitting here before you, when a week and a day ago I was, in fact, more than five hundred leagues away, as we measured leagues in the city in the old days."

  "But, then, who has put together a post that covers that distance?"

  "Oh, you wish to know that, do you?" said Pel, smiling.

  "I more than wish to know," said Khaavren. "I think I even ask."

  Pel smiled and waved his hand in a dismissive gesture.

  "Then we will speak of it, in due time. But first, I will claim my right as a guest to question you."

  "You wish to question me? My dear friend, I recognize you so well in that! Always questioning, always wanting to know, always with some plan or another. But this time, star me if I can imagine what I might know that could interest you."

  "How, you cannot guess?"

  "Not for the life of me."

  "Then I will tell you."

  "I ask for nothing better."

  "This is it then: I wish to question you, my good friend, about your health, and about your doings, and about your happiness, and about all that concerns you; in short, about everything a friend might wish to know about another friend, when they have not seen each other for two hundred and fifty years."