Andre Norton - Horn Crown

I won up to the top of the ridge, though I found I must take that climb slowly. Not only did I study all which lay about me as I looked for any sign that this path had been recently in use, but also my lingering weakness forced me to rest several times during that climb.

The only traces of any before me which I saw was a single track which could only have been left by that great cat which had accompanied Gathea, a paw-mark deep printed in a pocket of earth. I slipped from one bit of cover to the next, using my periods of rest to listen, though I could hear nothing, only now and then a bird call. If there were any waiting in hiding above they were keeping the silence of an ambush.

To approach the Moon Shrine from this side was easier for my purpose for there were a number of large rocks to afford cover. Whether they had been purposefully set for shelter I did not know—but their stone had not been worked.

Finally I reached the last one, from which I could plainly see the trees sheltering the sign, now so full leafed that they near hid pillars and pavement. Branches had been ruthlessly broken from one of the nearest of those trees as if to force a way. Yet only a few had been torn aside so wantonly. I believed that whoever had wanted to come at the shrine itself had lost that desire before they had summoned courage enough to achieve it fully.

For long moments I listened and waited, even raising my head high to sniff the breeze which blew from the direction of Lord Garn’s holdings—north to south. There was no taint which I could detect in that. If any lay in hiding here they were very well concealed.

Then I tensed, for from between the tree which had lost its lower branches and that next to it, moved a light figure. The great cat pushed into the open to stand sentry. Its head swung about deliberately, then paused as it looked in my direction. Whether it could indeed see me by virtue of that keener sight which is given to those wearing fur, or whether it scented me, I could not tell. Only I was very sure it knew that I was there.

However, that it was here was also reassurance for me that there had been no guard placed on this spot by Garn; I was certain that the beast would never have stood so boldly in the open if it had had to face more than one man. Now I arose to my full height, moving away from the rock behind which I had taken cover. If the cat was here—could I then expect that Gathea would also appear? Or if the animal was alone, would it allow me to approach and search for the traces of Thorg and his captive, or his enticed companion?

I was right in my first guess. Zabina’s handmaiden slipped, with the same silent ease of the cat, from out of the trees’ shadow. As she had on the trail, Gathea wore the leather and heavy jacket of a far traveler, and her hair must have been bound tightly about her head, for she had drawn over it a tightly knit cap of the same brown-gray as her clothing. Now she stood away from the trees, also facing in my direction. Nor did she seem surprised to see me, rather it was as if she had been awaiting my arrival, impatient that I had taken so long in coming.

As I did, she carried a wallet bulging full, even a larger one than mine, and a water bottle. Only she bore no weapons, at her belt was just the sheathed knife one would use for eating or small tasks of a camp.

She watched me approach soberly, giving no greeting, as if between us there was no need for that. The cat wrinkled an upper lip, but if he meant a warning it was a soundless one.

“So you came—”

I found her words a little puzzling. Had she thought that I would not? I might never redeem myself in the eyes of my kin, but for my own belief in myself there was only the one thing I could do, and that take any trail which would lead me to Iynne.

“If there is a trail, it should begin here,” I made short answer. “This is where I found her—where he must have met her—or somewhere nearby. There would have been no other way for them to—”

“ He—they —?” she repeated, interrupting me sharply. There was puzzlement on her face.

“Thorg,” it was my turn to be impatient. “He would play old Garnes—gain a wife and put dishonor on a House

enemy.”

“What has Thorg to do with this?” she wavered without turning her head, indicating the tree-hidden shrine.

“He must have seen Iynne here, led her into folly, or else took her bodily. She was easily frightened.” I was not altogether sure of that, but for the honor of Garn’s House I hoped it was the truth—that my cousin had been taken against her will.

Gathea moved forward a step or two. As the Wise Woman had regarded me earlier that day with that searching stare to read my thoughts, so did her assistant now also study me.

“Why do you think this of Thorg?” she asked. “Your own mistress said it so—”

“Did she? Are you sure?” her voice came even sharper, quick and emphatic enough to make me recall what words I had had with Zabina. Had she actually said Thorg had done this thing? I put remembered word to word. No, she had not said it—she had only asked a question or two, made a statement of things past, and the rest had been my own interpretation.

Gathea must have read that conclusion in my expression as quickly as I reached it. She nodded.

“Zabina did not say that,” the girl stated flatly. “You have put words into her mouth.”

“What she said led me to think sol”

“She is not responsible for the thoughts of one who wishes to find an easy enemy.”

“Which I was not looking for—until she spoke so!” I countered hotly. “When I said that I would trail him she did not deny that I had reason for my belief.”

“Why should she? What difference would it make to her to have you embroiled with another of your kind? If trouble came it would spread only from your crooked thinking, not draw in that which is not yours, could never be—”

I took a long stride forward, angry at the growing belief that these two women were playing with me. They had tended my body well. But that was of their way of life and came not, as I knew well, from any liking or interest in me as I was myself. When I was near healed they wanted none of me. Zabina had but subtly sent me packing on a trail which lead nowhere and this girl was openly hostile. Yet, why had she not agreed readily with her mistress’s suggestion and not disowned it so readily? She could well have cozened me on into the western wilderness on a false trail until I was long lost.

“Where is Lady Iynne?” I thought this was no longer a time to be mistaken about what might or might not be. There was only one form of action left for me—that was to repair my folly in leaving my cousin prey to whatever had taken her, whether it was some man of the dales or else something worse and more feared which lurked here, an exile from an earlier and to be feared time.

“I do not know.”

I believed her. Only—she might not know where Tynne was, but that she had some knowledge of what might have happened to my cousin, I was still convinced.

At that moment I was prepared to shake the truth out of her, so strong was my rising anger, the belief that I had been played with, pushed out of their way. However the cat snarled, bared fangs, so I remained where I was.

“She was called.” Gathea spoke slowly. “For I watched her, and she did not come here in idle curiosity as you believed. No, within her a woman’s deepest instincts were rising to the full. She was—is—of an age when the Great Lady summons womankind to ripeness. Even such as your Iynne who has all her life dwelt by man’s laws and customs, will answer to women’s magic, if that be strong and full enough. So she was drawn to a place in which moon-touch lay potent still. However, because she was not armored with the strength we know, she lay too open to the full flow of that.”