to divide and weaken us somehow. I’ve heard all sorts of rumors, but I couldn’t stay to find out how much truth there was to them. Hlah will have to do that, if he can. For me, the only thing now is to find those children—which I will do, Baron, or die.”
Roshay sighed. “If only I’d known they’d gone to Obann! My riders could have caught them. What in the world are those cuss’t kids up to!”
What they were up to at the moment was trying to sleep in the daytime, in a shady little hollow under a clump of wild pecan trees.
Wytt insisted on it. During the day, he said, there were men on horseback riding up and down the country. “See! Look! They make tracks; they make a smell.” He made his point by showing Ellayne a pile of dung she’d almost stepped on without noticing.
“We’re far from the road,” Jack said. “The Attakotts won’t be patrolling around here. No more towns, no farms—I don’t think anybody lives out here. We don’t want to meet any of those men on horseback.”
Ellayne knew geography a lot better than Jack did. Wytt had been following Cavall’s tracks and scent all the way from Obann, and by now Ellayne thought she knew where they were going.
“If we keep on this way,” she said, “we’ll wind up in Lintum Forest. And I’ll bet that’s where Ryons and Cavall are going.”
“Why should they go there?”
“We’ll have to ask him when we see him.”
Wytt went hunting and came back with a grasshopper impaled on his sharp stick, and news. He ate the grasshopper; Ellayne looked away and tried to ignore the crunching noise. Then he delivered his news.
“Two men on foot,” he said, “all dead now. Horsemen killed them. They made a fight first, killed one of the horsemen.”
“Where?” Ellayne cried. Her pulse raced, and all hope of sleeping fled.
“Not far.” But it had all happened some hours ago, and the horsemen had ridden off in another direction. There was no danger, for the moment.
“What did the men on foot look like, Wytt?” Jack asked. But to Wytt all big people, except the ones he knew personally, looked alike. “They had a drink with a funny smell,” he reported. The children would have recognized it as the smell of tea, but not Wytt. And of course they couldn’t know that those were the two Blays whom Gurun had sent to watch over them.
“Well, we knew it might be dangerous,” Jack said.
“I wonder if we could get back to the road,” Ellayne said. Jack shot a look at her. A remark like that wasn’t like her, not a bit.
“If you want to go back, we will,” he said.
She sighed. “No—I guess not. Ryons is out here, too, with just Cavall for company. We can’t give up on him.”
“We’ll be safer, traveling by night,” Jack said.
Ryons and Perkin camped that night on a hilltop, under a lofty, lonely oak tree. They had a cheery fire. Perkin said the Heathen wouldn’t come any closer to these hills than they had to. “They have their own stories about the Day of Fire,” he said. “They know these aren’t natural hills. There’s a curse on all such places, they believe.”
But the presence of the oak tree was a good sign, he said. It meant they were getting closer to the forest. “Oaks don’t normally grow out here. A bird must have dropped an acorn on this spot, once upon a time. That acorn came from Lintum Forest.”
Baby took some time settling down. He stalked the hilltop, looking for nobody knew what. The smell of roasting rabbit finally lured him back to the fire. He rattled his feathers and settled down beside Perkin, probably tired because he’d had to climb the hill. And after supper, Perkin told the story of his life—some of it, at least.
“I wasn’t always a wanderer,” he said. “I was born and raised in Caryllick. Ever been there? It’s a nice town. We have a lovely chamber house and our own little seminary.
Roshay sighed. “If only I’d known they’d gone to Obann! My riders could have caught them. What in the world are those cuss’t kids up to!”
What they were up to at the moment was trying to sleep in the daytime, in a shady little hollow under a clump of wild pecan trees.
Wytt insisted on it. During the day, he said, there were men on horseback riding up and down the country. “See! Look! They make tracks; they make a smell.” He made his point by showing Ellayne a pile of dung she’d almost stepped on without noticing.
“We’re far from the road,” Jack said. “The Attakotts won’t be patrolling around here. No more towns, no farms—I don’t think anybody lives out here. We don’t want to meet any of those men on horseback.”
Ellayne knew geography a lot better than Jack did. Wytt had been following Cavall’s tracks and scent all the way from Obann, and by now Ellayne thought she knew where they were going.
“If we keep on this way,” she said, “we’ll wind up in Lintum Forest. And I’ll bet that’s where Ryons and Cavall are going.”
“Why should they go there?”
“We’ll have to ask him when we see him.”
Wytt went hunting and came back with a grasshopper impaled on his sharp stick, and news. He ate the grasshopper; Ellayne looked away and tried to ignore the crunching noise. Then he delivered his news.
“Two men on foot,” he said, “all dead now. Horsemen killed them. They made a fight first, killed one of the horsemen.”
“Where?” Ellayne cried. Her pulse raced, and all hope of sleeping fled.
“Not far.” But it had all happened some hours ago, and the horsemen had ridden off in another direction. There was no danger, for the moment.
“What did the men on foot look like, Wytt?” Jack asked. But to Wytt all big people, except the ones he knew personally, looked alike. “They had a drink with a funny smell,” he reported. The children would have recognized it as the smell of tea, but not Wytt. And of course they couldn’t know that those were the two Blays whom Gurun had sent to watch over them.
“Well, we knew it might be dangerous,” Jack said.
“I wonder if we could get back to the road,” Ellayne said. Jack shot a look at her. A remark like that wasn’t like her, not a bit.
“If you want to go back, we will,” he said.
She sighed. “No—I guess not. Ryons is out here, too, with just Cavall for company. We can’t give up on him.”
“We’ll be safer, traveling by night,” Jack said.
Ryons and Perkin camped that night on a hilltop, under a lofty, lonely oak tree. They had a cheery fire. Perkin said the Heathen wouldn’t come any closer to these hills than they had to. “They have their own stories about the Day of Fire,” he said. “They know these aren’t natural hills. There’s a curse on all such places, they believe.”
But the presence of the oak tree was a good sign, he said. It meant they were getting closer to the forest. “Oaks don’t normally grow out here. A bird must have dropped an acorn on this spot, once upon a time. That acorn came from Lintum Forest.”
Baby took some time settling down. He stalked the hilltop, looking for nobody knew what. The smell of roasting rabbit finally lured him back to the fire. He rattled his feathers and settled down beside Perkin, probably tired because he’d had to climb the hill. And after supper, Perkin told the story of his life—some of it, at least.
“I wasn’t always a wanderer,” he said. “I was born and raised in Caryllick. Ever been there? It’s a nice town. We have a lovely chamber house and our own little seminary.
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