our power.”
“Oh.” Tamsin was still too overwhelmed to say more. They followed Murn through an opening on the other side of the entry room and down a long hallway. They passed several doorways covered with heavy hangings; then Murn paused before one and swept the cloth aside. “Tamsin, this is for you.”
Alethia peered inside as the minstrel stepped forward. It was a fairly small room, and the ceiling was at a normal level compared to the great height of the entry hall. Noticing the direction of her gaze, Murn said, “We do not always leave the space between the ground and the lower branches unused. We attach crosspieces to the tree trunks to support floors, and add more as the trees grow. In some places there are two or three floors that have been put on as the roof grows upward.”
Alethia and Murn left Tamsin almost immediately. Murn showed the other girl to her own room and then left. Alethia fell onto the bed without bothering to remove the torn green silk she wore, and was soon deep in the dreamless sleep of utter exhaustion.
“We can’t be far behind them now,” Har said for perhaps the twentieth time that morning.
Maurin frowned at the brush that edged the roadway. “We must have missed the spot where they turned off the road. I think we should turn back.”
“No.”
“Har, they couldn’t have gotten this far in a single night’s ride, and they’d have been mad to stay on the road after sunrise.”
“You know languages and bargaining; I know hunting and tracking,” Har said. “And I haven’t missed their turn-off.”
“But if—”
“There!” Har reined in suddenly and pointed. Without waiting for Maurin to respond, he dismounted and hurried to the side of the road. A moment later, he looked up, smiling grimly. “A group of horses went through here and on to the north, some time last night.”
“How many?” Maurin asked as Har remounted.
“Hard to say. At least four, possibly as many as eight.” Har frowned. “The traces are odd—they’re too faint for a group traveling as fast as this one must have been.” He hesitated. “It looks as if they’re heading into the Wyrwood.”
Maurin considered, then shrugged. “If they can do it, so can we. And if they’ve been pushing their horses, they’ll have to rest soon.”
“And they’ll be easier to track, now that they’re off the main road.” Har grinned fiercely. “Come on, then.”
The two men turned their horses north, toward the Wyrwood.
Chapter 6
A LIGHT TOUCH ON HER shoulder brought Alethia out of her sleep. She sighed and opened her eyes to see Murn’s serious inhuman face bending over her in the dim lamplight. “The messengers will be leaving very soon,” the Wyrd girl said. “I will come for you then.”
Alethia sat up. Her muscles had stiffened overnight, and she moved a little gingerly. She heard a soft sound as Murn left the room, and turned her head; the sudden movement made her wince. She slid her legs out of the bed and looked around.
On a table by the bed stood a washbasin, pitcher, and towel; beside them was a platter of honey biscuits and a cup of cream-heavy milk. A small lamp hung from a bracket near the curtained doorway. Draped over the chair on the other side of the table was a dress of the same dark material worn by most of the Wyrds. Alethia smiled at this thoughtfulness and reached for the pitcher.
Washing and dressing took very little time. The dress proved to have a split skirt, obviously intended for riding. It was a little small and far too short, but there was a generous hem, and by taking out the stitches Alethia contrived to bring it almost down to her ankles. The only shoes she had were the sandals Murn had given her the day before. They were not really suitable for riding, but at least they were comfortable.
By the time Murn returned, Alethia was seated on the edge of the bed, nibbling at one of the biscuits. The Wyrd girl surveyed her critically. “The dress is much too
“Oh.” Tamsin was still too overwhelmed to say more. They followed Murn through an opening on the other side of the entry room and down a long hallway. They passed several doorways covered with heavy hangings; then Murn paused before one and swept the cloth aside. “Tamsin, this is for you.”
Alethia peered inside as the minstrel stepped forward. It was a fairly small room, and the ceiling was at a normal level compared to the great height of the entry hall. Noticing the direction of her gaze, Murn said, “We do not always leave the space between the ground and the lower branches unused. We attach crosspieces to the tree trunks to support floors, and add more as the trees grow. In some places there are two or three floors that have been put on as the roof grows upward.”
Alethia and Murn left Tamsin almost immediately. Murn showed the other girl to her own room and then left. Alethia fell onto the bed without bothering to remove the torn green silk she wore, and was soon deep in the dreamless sleep of utter exhaustion.
“We can’t be far behind them now,” Har said for perhaps the twentieth time that morning.
Maurin frowned at the brush that edged the roadway. “We must have missed the spot where they turned off the road. I think we should turn back.”
“No.”
“Har, they couldn’t have gotten this far in a single night’s ride, and they’d have been mad to stay on the road after sunrise.”
“You know languages and bargaining; I know hunting and tracking,” Har said. “And I haven’t missed their turn-off.”
“But if—”
“There!” Har reined in suddenly and pointed. Without waiting for Maurin to respond, he dismounted and hurried to the side of the road. A moment later, he looked up, smiling grimly. “A group of horses went through here and on to the north, some time last night.”
“How many?” Maurin asked as Har remounted.
“Hard to say. At least four, possibly as many as eight.” Har frowned. “The traces are odd—they’re too faint for a group traveling as fast as this one must have been.” He hesitated. “It looks as if they’re heading into the Wyrwood.”
Maurin considered, then shrugged. “If they can do it, so can we. And if they’ve been pushing their horses, they’ll have to rest soon.”
“And they’ll be easier to track, now that they’re off the main road.” Har grinned fiercely. “Come on, then.”
The two men turned their horses north, toward the Wyrwood.
Chapter 6
A LIGHT TOUCH ON HER shoulder brought Alethia out of her sleep. She sighed and opened her eyes to see Murn’s serious inhuman face bending over her in the dim lamplight. “The messengers will be leaving very soon,” the Wyrd girl said. “I will come for you then.”
Alethia sat up. Her muscles had stiffened overnight, and she moved a little gingerly. She heard a soft sound as Murn left the room, and turned her head; the sudden movement made her wince. She slid her legs out of the bed and looked around.
On a table by the bed stood a washbasin, pitcher, and towel; beside them was a platter of honey biscuits and a cup of cream-heavy milk. A small lamp hung from a bracket near the curtained doorway. Draped over the chair on the other side of the table was a dress of the same dark material worn by most of the Wyrds. Alethia smiled at this thoughtfulness and reached for the pitcher.
Washing and dressing took very little time. The dress proved to have a split skirt, obviously intended for riding. It was a little small and far too short, but there was a generous hem, and by taking out the stitches Alethia contrived to bring it almost down to her ankles. The only shoes she had were the sandals Murn had given her the day before. They were not really suitable for riding, but at least they were comfortable.
By the time Murn returned, Alethia was seated on the edge of the bed, nibbling at one of the biscuits. The Wyrd girl surveyed her critically. “The dress is much too
Similar Books
