Alan Foster - Krull

"You told me once you didn't believe in that." "So I did." Ynyr gave him a pleased smile. "You remember. A good virtue for a king. But it seems too much of a coincidence that I should be compelled to visit the widow."

Colwyn wanted to know what the old man meant, but he held his questions. Some things were meant not to be pried into.

It was hard to imagine a more cheerful morning or a more pleasing sight than the evergreen woods that greeted them upon their emergence from the Wyn-nah-Mabrug. Torquil inhaled deeply of the fresh, pine-scented air and turned to spit back at the swampland they'd just abandoned.

"And may I never set foot in such a country again as long as I live!"

"I'll second that," said Kegan readily. "I dislike traveling where the air itself is an ally of one's enemies. Let it keep its secrets. I've no desire to visit the place again, no matter what treasure sunken temples may hold."

Only Rell did not join in the chorus of relief. Fog and mist had been friend to him all his life. Someday, when this quest was ended, he hoped to rejoin them. He gave little weight to this Colwyn's protestations of friendship. As he'd learned more than once, in clear air and on full bellies, politicians tended to forget awkward promises made during more trying times.

Possibly I misjudge this one, though, he thought. Perhaps he means what he says. Not that it mattered. Better to live as a pessimist. That way one was rarely disappointed.

He looked down at the small boy who clung tightly to his huge hand. The child was handling his fate better than many adults. One could almost imagine him a young of the one-eyes, so stoic was his attitude and solemn his composure. Rell wished he could do something for Titch but he could not think of anything. Friendship was all he had to offer.

Ergo trailed behind, rummaging through his pockets, glancing intently at one scrap of paper after another before jamming them back into their cloth repositories.

"Blast! One of these days I've got to get organized. Hire a scribe to rewrite everything nice and neat. Ah." He smiled at nothing in particular, dropped slightly to one side of the marchers. No one saw him melt into the bushes.

Oswyn hesitated, hand on sword hilt. Kegan trotted up to stand next to him.

"What is it?"

Oswyn stared into the trees. "I thought I heard something."

His companion joined him in listening hard. "I hear nothing. What did it sound like?"

"I don't know. Strange. A popping sound."

Kegan listened a moment longer, then shrugged. "A branch falling off a tree, a hare breaking twigs. You see Slayers beneath every bush."

"Is that so surprising?"

"I suppose not. Not when I've started to see them rising from every creek and pond we pass."

"Aye." Oswyn let his hand slip from his sword. "It must have been a branch."

A small brown shape had been watching the two men closely. Now it padded on ahead, then cut back toward the troupe. It halted before the startled Titch, who picked it up instinctively.

Rell eyed the puppy uncertainly. "Now where did that little dust mote come from?" He turned and scanned the forest.

There was no sign of passing travelers or nearby habitation.

"I don't care," said Titch delightedly. "Hey, stop that!"

The puppy yapped softly and continued to lick the boy's face.

Colwyn heard the excitement and slowed to join them. "Now that's a cute little mouse." He frowned, looked over their heads. "Where's Ergo?"

"He's—" Titch started to say, but a growl from the puppy made him hesitate. Or perhaps it was something he saw in the dog's eyes.

"He'll be back real soon," Titch finished. The puppy resumed licking his nose. "Can I keep him?"

"Hmmm?" Colwyn murmured absently, still searching the forest. His attention came back to the ball of brown fluff in the boy's arms. "Of course. Just keep him quiet."

"I will," Titch promised. The puppy promptly curled up and went to sleep in his arms.

Oswyn found himself leaning back, craning his neck to locate the sky. "Never have I seen woods like these! Heard of 'em, but never thought to see them. These trees are like castles."

"Which they are, to the many creatures who inhabit then: upper reaches," Ynyr explained as they passed around one particularly enormous bole. Overhead it was a long way to the vault of heaven, but there was none of the claustrophobic feeling that had enveloped them all during their trek through the swamps.

"Peaceful place," Oswyn added.

"Not up that way." Ynyr brought them to a halt and pointed.

Through a break in the towering woods ,they could see a sloping cliff of dark basalt. It was a difficult climb, but not an impossible one. The widow's mountain.

Ynyr turned to face Colwyn. "Here we must part company, my friend."

Colwyn shook his head. "Not yet. I'm going with you. I can help." He touched the strap holding the glaive.

Ynyr only smiled. "No. The glaive's power is great, but it is not limitless. You must retain it for when it will truly be needed." He indicated the slope ahead. "Besides, if two approach, it is likely that both will die. There will be very little time in which to make contact and when I present myself to the widow there must be no chance of a misunderstanding. Your presence and the need to explain it would only hamper my efforts, Colwyn. Alone, I may have a chance."

Torquil had listened quietly. Now he offered his own advice to Colwyn. "Each to his chosen fate. Listen to the wise man."

"Yes, listen. As I've tried to teach you to do. Each to his fate. If I have not returned by tomorrow morning, you will know mine."

"And if that should happen, what then? How am I to proceed without your good advice?"

"You must go on as best you are able, my boy. That is your fate." He conjured up a smile. "It is too early for despair. Everything may go as hoped. Meanwhile get some rest and try to ease your mind as well as your body." He turned away and set off toward the dark cliff.

"Now that's the advice of a wise man," commented Kegan. He proceeded to find himself a soft spot near a great twisted root and sit down. Torquil chose a resting place opposite.

"Wait, boy," Titch was yelling, "wait for me!" The puppy had jumped from his arms and was scampering into the bushes.

Ergo reappeared a moment later. He paused a moment to scratch behind one ear, frowned, then joined the boy. Rell looked on amusedly, understanding now what he'd only been able to suppose earlier. Titch looked disappointed, but not gravely so.

"I still say it's a foolish wish," Ergo said to the lad. "I thought to show you that. Well, don't you agree with me now?"

Titch shuffled his feet, staring at the ground. "You're a nice friend, Ergo, but if you want the truth…"

"Careful, boy," Rell warned him. "The truth can be dangerous."

Titch didn't care. "I liked you better as a puppy." "Fagh! Children!" Ergo walked away, shaking his head bemusedly and hunting for a place to relax. He was exhausted, and not just from the strain of transformation.

Colwyn took note of his condition as well as that of the others and beckoned Torquil over.

"We have no food save what little remains in our packs and the men are too tired to hunt. I can't blame them. These past days would have tried the endurance of a hundred men. Right now I confess to little enthusiasm for killing anything, even a deer."

"What do you want from me, Colwyn?" "Suggestions. You've roamed this country while I've been stuck in a castle learning history and administration. Those are of little use on an empty belly. If you've a talent for scavenging, man, use it now."

Torquil rubbed the stubble of beard that decorated his chin. "Well now, sir, that presents something of a problem. What we call scavenging you might call by another name."