Andre Norton - Gryphon in Glory

The floor of this large chamber was covered by paw marks in the dust—those of the cats, and some that could belong only to the bear, while there was also a strong animal smell in the room, though it had not been used as a general lair, for there were no beds of drifted leaves, no signs of the inedible parts of prey.

I passed under the archway, which gave into the lowest floor of the tower, and found what I had hoped, a stairway leading up, one side against the wall. The other, which lacked any guard rail, was open, while the steps were unusually narrow, hardly wide enough to take the length of my boots, and the rises were not as high as one would expect. However, the stones were sturdily set, though I tested each before I placed my full weight upon it.

So I climbed, emerging into another chamber as bare as the one below. Then, finally, into a third above that. Here were more window slits, and I made my way toward the closest through even deeper gloom, for the vines were thick curtains I had to push, break, and tear in order to force an opening through which I might view what lay beyond.

It would seem that this hall had been built with one side just above the edge of a sharp, down-dropping slope. There were trees rooted precariously on it, as well as a lot of brush, but where it reached the level at last, the land was wide open.

Across that, as straight as if someone had used a sword blade to cut a path—the tip of which touched heights to the west—was what could only be a road. Only this was such a road as I had never seen in the Dales, where tracks, of necessity, were narrow because of the many ridges.

Not only was it dazzling white under the sun, but broad and very smooth, though there were glints of glitter on its surface, flashing now and then. The highway lacked any travelers as far as I could see. It was just there—startling on that dull plain. There were wide stretches of open ground on each side as if all cover had been deliberately pruned away. To discourage ambush? But who had come this way in such fear—and against what or whom had those wayfarers needed to so protect themselves?

This road, which I knew as well as Elys did, was no track such as ran through the Dales. It carried the mark of sorcery even more than that which the Exiles had used, and it ran toward the heights. Though I had determined to ride west, now I was reluctant to set out upon such a way, easy as it was to travel. Not so my companions, for remounted, Elys swung out upon the pavement, nor did Jervon linger, but was at her side, the pack pony on a lead, already past me.

I mounted the mare, fighting inner turmoil. To take such a path was to expose myself to—to what? Was I such a one now as started at shadows, drew steel at the sloughing of a wind through tree branches? This shaming fact I could not yield to. I sent the mare on, where the click of her shoes on the stone of the way sounded overloud.

Whoever had laid out the way that highway traveled had paid no attention to the contour of the land, had allowed no fact of nature to dispute where it would run. Hillocks had been cut through, leveled back to allow passage, surfaces smoothed. Its making was a feat of labor that I do not think the Dales, even if all their manpower was summoned to the task, could ever have equaled.

As the pavement provided the easiest of footing, we made far better time than we had riding cross-country. Nor did we see any signs of life, except a bird or two—not flying in that threatening coil of the evil flock but high and alone. The country apparently was very bare hearabouts. or else all that lived near kept their distance from the road itself.

A little before sunset we came upon a place where the pavement curved out at one side, forming an oval section that was still attached to the highway, as a piece of fruit might lie next to a bough. Elys turned her mount in that direction and for the first time in some hours spoke, raising her voice to reach me where I still trailed a little behind.

“This will afford a safe campsite.”

Most of the surface of that oval was covered by one of the five pointed stars, so that the space might lie under some protection, a kind we should welcome, I guessed. There might not be any inns or other shelters along the highways, but those who had built it had arranged such places as this for the safe rest of the travelers.

Here the surrounding land was wide open, covered mainly with a tall-growing grass. We put our horses on picket ropes, allowing them to graze to their content. There was also (within a stride or two of the road) a basin in which water bubbled up from underground. The water was not only very clear and very cold, but it possessed a flavor all its own and . . . Can water be perfumed? I had never heard of such, yet when I rinsed my hands and then cupped them to make a drinking cup, I was sure that I caught a faint scent—like unto that of a garden of fresh herbs lying under the full-drawing rays of the sun.

Nor did we have to light a fire to brave the draw-in of the dark. For with the coming of night that star in which our camp was set began to glow faintly. There was a warmth in the air. Whoever had fashioned this wonder we would never know, but to me it was a fitting answer to all those who claim that only evil comes from the use of that which belongs to the Old Ones.

Elys sat crosslegged in the very heart of the star after we had eaten from our trail supplies. Her eyes were fixed on the road. At first I believed that, in truth, her sight was turned inward, and that she was near in a state of trance, which made me uneasy. With the coming of the dark a feeling of Power, which I had not sensed as we rode under the sun, gathered to hedge us in. One’s skin prickled with uneasiness, one’s hair seemed to stir with a force of deeply pent energy.

I looked from Elys’s closed face to the road. In me something came alert, waited—Would this highway also prove to be “haunted”? Would we see and hear tonight the passing of some who had long gone before? There came another thought into my mind. Power such as I now felt could certainly be drawn upon. Suppose we tried again to scry—might not the result be that I could see Joisan, learn enough to be guided directly to her?

“The cup . . .” I began, though I knew that breaking through her present deep absorption might alienate rather than lead Elys to agree to my plea.

She did not turn her head, she did not even break her forward stare by so much as a blink. But her answer came readily enough.

“Not here. I have not the strength to hold what might answer. I am not so learned . . .” In her voice there was an unhappy, longing note. “No. I could not control the forces that await here. They have not been tapped for long and long—that does not mean they have grown the less, rather they have built in strength.”

My disappointment was tinged with a fraction of anger. Still I knew that she was right. One should not meddle to raise any Power that one did not know one had the ability to control. It was very certain that our present surroundings, benevolent as they seemed, might hold a violent response to any witchery, no matter how mild or well intended.

So I sat in silence, nor did I stare as she did down that road, which promised so much and yet which we dared not trust. I did not care what ghosts might walk here. They were no kin of mine—that I chose to be so. I was myself—alone—as in reality I had always been. Yet, sometimes with Joisan . . .

To think of her brought pain that was not of the body, rather an inward ache, as if I had hungered all my life and now understood that I must continue to hunger until I died. There was Joisan . . .

I no longer saw that band of metal on my wrist, on which I had idly centered my gaze. Rather, there arose before my eyes a girl’s face, the skin sun-browned, thin . . . Perhaps no man who did not look the second time would call her beautiful. No man—but I was not a true man, and, to me, she was as radiant as the fabled, much-courted daughters of keeps such as the songsmiths sing of—those before whom men paraded in their pride, fought monsters, and courted death-danger that they might be noticed and admired.