Ширли Мерфи - The Shattered Stone [calibre]

“Not anywhere, Dlos? Not near the pit?”

“I was just there. They’re all right. What could happen to them?”

“They could go to the mountain,” Tayba breathed softly, staring across at the two old women. “They could—Dlos, I know he has!”

Dlos studied her. “And what if he did, child?”

“They—the wolves made the sickness in him. I am going after Ram! I am going up the mountain!”

“You cannot go alone, you wouldn’t know where to search,” Dlos said scornfully.

“Yes. I . . .” She saw Dlos looking past her, and turned.

Venniver was standing in the doorway. He came into the kitchen. “You will clean yourself up,” he said quietly. “Dress yourself in something besides that coarsespun. I don’t want to dine with a kitchen drudge. Poncie will prepare our supper.” He glanced toward Poncie, who smirked. “Well, get moving woman, dress yourself in something pleasant to look at, you know you’re to take supper with me! What are you doing scrubbing the kitchen!”

“No one told me—Poncie said—”

“ I don’t care what Poncie said. I’ll deal with her! Now . . .”

She tried to speak calmly and could hear the tremor in her voice. “Please.” She drew herself taller. Of all nights for Ram to wander off. “Please—my child is lost. I must find him. I will take supper with you tomorrow night. Willingly.” The two old women, who had scuttled into a corner, began to giggle.

“ Lost child! What do I care for a lost child!”

“Just—just for tonight. I would rather be with you. He’s out there alone in the night. I can’t . . .”

Scowling, he pulled her close, hurting her, stared at her with fury. She looked back at him directly. “I will not be pleasant company tonight, Venniver.” She held his eyes, willing him to listen. Why tonight of all nights? Why had Ram . . . just when Venniver had finally noticed her. “Let me go to find my child,” she breathed, “and tomorrow night I will come to you, Venniver.”

“I care nothing for any child. I care nothing for your problems.” His fury terrified her. But then suddenly he seemed really to see her. A cold smile touched his lips. “But I care for a woman with enough spirit to say no to me. I’m sick to death of silly, terrified females,” he said, glancing in the direction of the slave cell. “All right, go on, woman! Get yourself out of here!” He spun toward the door, leaving her free.

“Wait!” she said evenly.

He turned back, his eyes burning through her.

She swallowed, then said boldly, “I want a horse. I want a horse to use, to search for Ram.”

“You want— what?”

“I want a horse to search for my child. I will need a horse to cover any ground, to find Ram, to keep from getting lost in the night.”

“ Great fires of Urdd!” He turned back toward the hall. She stared after him, her courage sinking. He would leave her there unanswered, defeated. Behind her old Poncie laughed quietly and cruelly. Tayba stood clenching her fists, then heard him bellow suddenly, “Mardwil! Mardwil! Get this wench a pack animal. Be quick about it! Put a saddle on it and bring it around to the sculler!”

She went weakly out of the kitchen, the taste of bile coming in her mouth. She hurried through the sculler into the storeroom, searching for Dlos.

Dlos was in her little room kneeling before the painted chest that stood at the foot of the cot, her short hair askew, her square, wrinkled hands hastily replacing folds of linen and wool—she seemed not to be thinking of Ram at all. She looked up at Tayba. “It is not here.”

“What is not? This is no time to—”

“The wolf bell,” Dlos said. “Ram has taken the wolf bell.”

There was a long silence while Tayba stared at her. The wolf bell? But he could not have taken it from here. It had been lost on the plain—or EnDwyl had . . . And then she understood. “Oh! It was you! You took the wolf bell from Ram. You—”

“I took it from the child where he lay beside the river. I hid it in this chest, but Ram—Ram is a Seeing child.”

“The wolves . . . Ram could be dead by now.”

“The wolves will not harm Ramad. They will not harm one who holds the power of the bell.”

“What do you know about the bell? You can’t be certain. Ram’s only a child. And look how sick he’s been. The wolves caused his illness, they . . . maybe they made him come to them.”

“The wolves caused no illness. And they will not harm Ramad. Ram is more than a child, young woman. There are things you cannot deny such a one as Ram.”

“Perhaps,” Tayba said, unable to cope with her. The guilt Dlos made her feel was ridiculous, she had no reason to feel guilt. “I must go after him,” she said shortly, turning away toward the door.

“I will go with you.”

“There is only one horse.”

Dlos stared at her angrily. “How would you know where to search, alone up there! Not that search is necessary. However, perhaps it will do you good to face those wolves, young woman. Now if you can get one horse, however you managed, you can get another.”

So when Mardwil brought the pack pony, Tayba went back with him and helped him saddle another, against his will. “Venniver said only one,” the man grumbled.

But she defied him, got the horse at last and led it back to the sculler, where Dlos had the first animal’s pack tied on and was already mounted. She tied on her own pack, and soon they were above the town. Dlos said, “How did you manage to get horses, young woman?”

“I asked Venniver for them,” Tayba said quietly.

Dlos stared at her, then looked away.

They could hear the river far on their left. The horses wanted to move slowly in the dark and shied at the looming boulders. Dlos slapped her mount and dug in her heels, and the animal settled into a pulling trot. Dlos handled her horse well, seemed to know what she was about. It was like the old times with Gredillon, when the older woman had taken charge and Tayba had only to follow. Gredillon had said once, with fury, “You must learn to do for yourself, girl. You can’t expect to follow someone else ail your life.” Tayba had been tempted to reply, I did for myself to get away from my father, to keep from being sold like a prime ewe, didn’t I? But she had thought better of that remark.

Now she eased herself up off the jarring trot, with one hand on the horse’s withers, and looked ahead to where Ere’s moons threw a wash of light across the peaks above them. They were making good time on the rough ground, would be among the peaks soon. The air grew colder, the wind cut down at them. Fissures on the mountain shone black as the moons rose higher. She pulled her cloak tighter around her. Where was Ram in this black night, in the immensity of those mountains?

Dlos kicked her mount into a gallop across a flat, unbroken stretch, and they pulled the animals up at the far edge to rest among boulders. The jagged peaks rose directly above them, dark with shadow. Wolves could be watching from anywhere. Tayba watched Dlos dismount and hobble her horse, then did the same, for the horses could go no farther up the steep, narrow ways. Tayba thought of climbing into that mountain on foot and shivered. “Who’s to say the wolves won’t kill the horses while we’re gone?”

“No one is to say that. We must simply pray the wolves—that they will leave them unharmed.”

They began to climb in among the cliffs in shadow black as death. “There are caves above,” Dlos said. “Do you have your lantern?”

“I have it.” Tayba followed the sound of Dlos’s footsteps until the old woman struck flint to tinder, illuminating the stone walls and low ceiling of the first cave.