Andre Norton - The Key of the Keplian

Her hands went out to him as her fingers flicked through the signs. “Do not blame yourself. But what of the tower? Can you tell me more? What of he who uses it?”

Romar eyed her. “It is a place of very great power from the Dark. It seems to call to those of its kind who are lesser and would be more. They lose and are destroyed, but always there seems to be another. But I am called, dream well.” He was gone and she slept more deeply.

Nights came and went after that. Sometimes they brought Romar and together they pondered philosophical questions, shared lives, and even small jokes as friendship grew. She knew her company was enabling him to hold on with more strength. Perhaps some of her own vitality was leaching across the barrier to replenish his own store. Whatever it was, he had come to appear less worn as the nights of comradeship passed. By now they were as old friends, each comfortable with the other.

Yet still Eleeri wavered. She knew this friendship had a claim upon her now. But so, too, did the older friendship with Tharna and Hylan. Was she to risk them, perhaps even those others who shared their home? The Dark Tower was feared by even the evil that served it. How much more, then, should those of the Light stand back from combat?

Yet in her heart she knew what held her back. It was fear, quite simply—not of dying, but of losing all she had found here. The more she put the knowledge from her, the more it returned to nag at the fringes of her mind. At length she made a decision. She would wait. Once, long ago, she had heard some joke about that sort of decision. That put off, either it would grow to where something must be done, or the problem would solve itself. With that decided, she was more relaxed with Romar when he came again. She did not know he, too, had seen the battle and understood it.

He would not demand of her more than she could give. He had long since realized that she was one who walked her own path. To urge her against her own wishes would only be to harden her mind against the thing he asked. Nor had he any rights in this. She was not even of his race, let alone his kin.

He studied her as they talked. She was beautiful—oh, not by some standards, but he was not of a kind which lusted after a plump and witless prettiness. He admired the swift litheness of her movements, the slender body, pride in every line. His maleness was not challenged to anger by her weapons skill. She was one to guard a man’s back, to stand as an equal in an uneasy land. With her a man could be himself, not watching his tongue for fear of alarming a soft frail female.

At first he had been drawn to her by a terrible need for some kind of companionship. Now it was more. There might be for him no tomorrow, no future, but if there were, then he wished to spend it with her. Still he allowed nothing to show, neither desire nor understanding. He would make it no harder for her than she was already making it for herself. He watched as she battled with her own fears. Watched her waver between wishing to storm the tower to his aid, and fearing she would lose all she had won in this new land.

Then the power began to draw more strongly again upon him so that for many nights he must stand alone. Eleeri guessed the reason he did not walk her dreams. Outside the canyon the Gray Ones bayed the hunt more often. The rasti seemed to grow in ferocity so that for some time she left them in peace. A warrior did not fight against foolish odds. But her heart burned to ignore the teachings of a lifetime. She soothed herself often, reminding herself of Far Traveler’s tales. So many had been warnings against the impetuousness of youth. But still she longed to see the face of one who had grown to be friend. To share her mind’s thoughts, to share her— No. A warrior did not fight against foolish odds. As for her heart, let it be kept for one with a better chance of life.

In her distress of mind, she roamed wider than ever before. Once she met a scout, at least so she believed him, though he said nothing of his reasons for being in the Keplian lands. She spoke with him politely before moving on. Something moved in his eyes and she was wary, keeping the pony beyond reach of any hand weapon. Tharna joined her a short time later.

*He follows.*

Eleeri swore irritably. “I don’t like this. What’s the man after?”

*He hunts.* Minds shared the scent of a predator on the trail. Eleeri turned over possibilities as they trotted on. Her eyes scanned the terrain they had been traversing as the man had appeared. Then she understood. Wordlessly she conveyed it to her friend. The mare faltered in her smooth gait as she, too, eyed the land and its contours.

*He saw us together. He will believe us both, then, of the Dark.*

“So I think. The question is, do we attempt to lose him or will he attack?”

A mental shrug was her only answer. The woman nodded. The mare was right. They could only wait and see. One thing she decided: she would not allow them to be trailed too far in the direction of the canyon. If others found them there, they, too, might leap to conclusions. That she would not risk.

She became aware that Tharna was distressed by the human’s assumption that the mare was of the Dark. Eleeri reached out to stroke the rough mane, to scratch gently at the base of the small erect ears.

“It isn’t your fault, kin-sister. We are in Keplian lands and not so far from the tower. He would have assumed I was of the Dark even if he had not seen us together. He knows me not; my clothing is not of the kind his people wear.” She glanced down at the hackamore she used to guide the sturdy dun. “Even my bridle is not of their kind. I remade this into one I preferred, and close as we were, he could see the differences. Let him hunt; we will lose him quickly.”

But in that she proved wrong. Whatever else the man might be, he was a tracker. He was falling back as the dusk deepened, but still he clung grimly to their trail.

“Best we do not return?”

Unspoken agreement.

Eleeri swung the pony away from their homeward trail to move instead parallel to the stream. Better not to approach their ford, either. The tracker might see enough to follow that across the stream and into the hills. She wavered, wanting to drift back in to cover and slay him as he passed. The man was a danger to all she held dear. If he followed them to the canyon, he would doubtless return with others to kill them all. Yet she was unwilling to kill him out of hand. They fought on the same side in this battle. Medicine could turn against one who killed his own.

*He still follows,* Tharna observed.

Eleeri shared her indecision. Perhaps if they continued they could make a wide circle around the Keplian lands, lose this one in the rougher foothills far to the southeast. That was if he would follow them on a trail for so many days. But if he would, then they might lose him without the need to slay. On that last they were in accord. They dropped to a steady walk, leaving clearer signs as they moved on. Let him trail them now—it was their wish.

That he did for two more days. But on the third night he seemed to have lost the trail. Woman and mare halted on a small hill to study their back trail.

“No sign of him. The last I saw was last night’s fire.”

*Do you think we’ve lost him, kin-sister?*

Eleeri looked doubtful. “There’s no reason we should have. He’s followed us through more difficult tracking than this. Why should he lose us now?”

*Perhaps he has wearied of following?*

“Maybe, but I have an unpleasant feeling there’s more to it. I think I’d like to backtrack.”

*You think he’s run into trouble. Surely we would have heard or seen something.* Eleeri considered as she recalled the night. The wind had shifted soon after dark so that it blew from them to their follower. It had increased until by moonhigh it had been blowing hard enough to take any sounds away from them with ease. By dawn it had fallen to a light breeze, but if there had been an attack on the man around the middle night . . .