Shadow Magic by Patricia C. Wrede Page A

short, I am afraid; it is a good thing you are slender. I am sorry we could not do better for you.”
    Alethia laughed. “It is much better than what I had,” she said, indicating the stained and crumpled green silk.
    “True.” Murn smiled in return. “Have you finished eating? Then come; they are waiting.” She plucked the lamp from its hanger as she spoke, and Alethia rose and followed her out into the hallway. Murn took a different route from the one she had shown them the previous night, and by the time the two emerged into the pre-dawn shadows of the forest, Alethia was thoroughly confused.
    Tamsin was already there, towering over Grathwol and four Wyrd archers. Another Wyrd approached, leading two horses. One was Tamsin’s Starbrow; the other was a brown mare. Both animals were saddled and bridled for the journey. They were followed by five shaggy ponies, who were evidently well trained, for they wore only halters and followed without benefit of a leading rein.
    Grathwol nodded to the Wyrd leading the horses and took the mare’s rein from him. “We were fortunate enough to capture one of the Lithmern mounts. I hope you will not object to riding her; she is a gentle beast and one of our mounts would be… a little small, perhaps.”
    Alethia smiled. “I do not mind,” she said. “What is her name?”
    “She has none as yet; I do not know what the Lithmern called her, but I do not think she would mind a different name,” Grathwol replied. “Choose one.”
    “I will call her Alfand,” said Alethia after a pause, reaching out to pet the horse’s velvet nose.
    Tamsin cleared his throat. “You said you were fortunate enough to catch one of the Lithmern horses. The others escaped, then?”
    “Not all of them. We have seven other new additions to our stables.” The Wyrd leader smiled a little grimly. “They would seem to like their change in ownership well. We will keep them, I think. Though they are not the type of mount we prefer, I suspect we can find a use for them.”
    “But what of the Lithmern themselves?” Tamsin asked with a frown.
    Grathwol’s eyes darkened. “Their leader is dead. Four of the men were killed immediately by our archers; three more died in the chase.”
    “Then three escaped,” Tamsin said quietly.
    “Three escaped,” Grathwol confirmed. “Our only excuse is that we did not know of the Talisman at first, and sought only to drive the Lithmern out of our forests. By the time we learned of it and sought captives instead, it was too late, and they eluded us.”
    “You haven’t given up, have you?” Alethia asked.
    “No; there are still two parties tracking them,” Grathwol said. “But I am afraid I have little hope for their success.”
    “But surely they won’t all escape?”
    Grathwol’s ears twitched. “At least one of them is badly wounded, so no doubt you are correct. But as long as even one survives to reach Lithra, we have not succeeded. That is why I wish to have you safe, and the Talisman in Eveleth, as soon as possible. I do not know what the Lithmern will do when they learn what has happened.”
    Tamsin nodded. “I think I begin to see.”
    “I suggest that you leave now,” Grathwol said with a piercing look at the minstrel. “It is nearly dawn, and at a comfortable pace you will barely reach the Kathkari by nightfall. These are your guides as far as the mountains: Worrel, Rarn, Anarmin, and Shallan.” He waved in the general direction of the archers, who nodded formally and stepped to their ponies as Grathwol called their names.
    Worrel was young, and the thick mane of hair covering his head was a rich chestnut color. Rarn was rather tall for a Wyrd, with snapping brown eyes; her fur was a tan color, with streaks of darker brown in her mane, and brown ear-tufts. The third Wyrd, Anarmin, was a uniform dark brown in color; a few threads of silver sprinkled his ear-tufts, and Alethia found herself wondering whether that was the Wyrd counterpart of