The Midwinter-night service in St. Valentine-of-the-Snows was famous throughout the Hellers; people came from all through Nevarsin, and from the countryside round, to hear the singing. Romilly had heard some of the music before this, but never sung so well, and she would have enjoyed the service, had she not been so troubled by Orain's obvious worried state. He insisted that they should sit at the back, and when she asked where Dom Carlo was, and why he had not come to the service, scowled and refused to answer. He had cautioned Alaric, too, not to enter the chapel at all. But toward the end of the service, when there was a moment's lull, he whispered "No sign yet of Lyondri Hastur. We may be lucky." His face twisted and he muttered, "We'd be luckiest if he fell off a cliff somewhere and never made it to Nevarsin at all!"
And, as Caryl said, same weather magic has been done. I did not think the weather would clear so quickly.
She saw Caryl, scrubbed and shining, in the front row of the choir, his mouth opening like a bird as he sang; it seemed to Romilly that his voice soared out over all the choir. It was as well, perhaps, that Dom Carlo was not here, except for Orain's dread; it seemed that the big gaunt man could hardly sit still, and no sooner was the service ended than he was up and out of his seat, pushing for the back of the chapel. He walked with her to the stable, and busied his hands checking on the sentry-birds, so that Romilly would have been annoyed - did he think she could not care for them properly, then? Later she knew what he had been looking for, why he had arranged everything close together so that they could be snatched up and ready to ride at a moment's notice, but at the moment she was only exasperated and wondered if he was still drunk, or believed she was too drunk to handle them properly. He checked on the chervines and horses too, turning up each hoof, arranging saddle-blankets and saddles, until she thought she would scream with nervousness at his fiddling. Or was he lingering so that he would see it, if Lyondri Hastur actually arrived at the monastery?
But at last he sighed and turned away. He said, "A good Festival to you, lad," and gave Romilly a rough hug. "If it's too cold here in the stable, you can sleep in Dom Carlo's bed, no one will know the difference."
"I think I should stay near the birds," Romilly said, avoiding his gaze. It was not that she did not trust him, exactly; she had lived in camp among them, and if her real sex had not yet been discovered, he was unlikely to discover it now, even should they share a sleeping room. And if he should - she discovered that she felt shaky and weak when she thought about that - Orain was not a cristoforo and would not be bound by their Creed of Chastity - she had heard stories all her life, of how licentious were the lowlanders and the Hali'imyn - but somehow she could not imagine that he would attempt to force himself upon her. Still, she was uncomfortable at his touch, and pulled away as quickly as she could, remembering the dream she had had ... in the dream he had held and caressed her as if she was the woman he did not know her to be. ...
She burrowed into the hay, still a little dizzied with the wine she had drunk, and after a time she slept. She dreamed, as she had dreamed before, that she was flying on the wings of hawk or sentry-bird, that there was someone flying at her side, who spoke to her in Orain's voice, and drowsily caressed her . . . she sank into the dream, never thinking to resist...
She came abruptly awake in the half-light, hearing the clamor of bells - was it some observance of the cristoforo monks for the Festival? She sat up to see Orain, white as death, standing at the door of the little chamber.
"Rumal, lad! Is Dom Carlo with you? This is no time for modesty-"
"Dom Carlo? I have not seen him in days! What do you mean, Orain?"
"There was a time-no, I see you know not even what I mean. Damnation!" He staggered, reeled against the wall. "I hoped against hope - it cannot be that he has been taken! Aldones grant he has already been warned and made his escape - listen!" He gestured and again she heard the alarm-bell ringing. "We have been betrayed, someone has recognized him, or recognized me - I knew he should not have ventured down there today!" He swore, striking the wall with his fist. "Quick, up, boy, search the guest-house! They know that where I appear, Carolin - or his men - cannot be far away! And while the Father Master might not violate sanctuary, I would not trust the Hastur-lord to keep it, not if the Lord of Light appeared before his nose and bade him."
Orain was dead sober now; he looked ill and haggard, his gaunt face sunken, but his eyes blazing with anger.
"That child of Lyondri's - did he babble, do you think, to his playfellows? Lyondri's son - like dog, like pup! I'd run the boy through with my skean and think the world a safer place lest the whelp grow up like his abominable father!"
Romilly shrank back and Orain scowled. "No, I'd not harm a child, not even Lyondri's, I suppose - get your boots on, boy! We must make haste out of here, out of the city - if we are caught here, none of our lives are worth a feather's weight! Go and call - no, I will rouse Alaric and the others! You make the horses ready."
It seemed suddenly as if Dom Carlo's face swam in the air before her - but he was not there! Still it seemed she could hear him saying to her, Bring the birds, go through the monastery to the highest gate, to the secret pass above the hidden cells on the glacier.
"Move, lad!" Orain snarled, "What are you staring at?" Her voice shaking, Romilly repeated Dom Carlo's words. "He was here, I heard him; his very voice-"
"Dreams," Orain said, jerking his head impatiently, and it seemed that Carlo's voice said in Romilly's mind, Bid him remember a certain belt of red leather over which we fought and bloodied both our noses.
Romilly caught at Orain's sleeve as he turned to go. "I swear, Orain, I heard Dom Carlo - something of a red leather belt over which you both bloodied your noses."
Orain blinked. He made a quick, superstitious gesture. Then he said, "You have laran; no? I thought as much. Aye, that belt was a jest between us for a hand-span of years. I will go rouse the men. Make ready, as quick as you can."
Romilly found that her hands were steady as she got the saddles on the animals, wrapped herself in the cloak that had been Orain's Midwinter-gift - grateful for the fur lining - and stuffed a couple of saddlebags with grain and fodder for the riding-beasts and another with the smelly food for the sentry-birds. She hooded them - it would have been impossible to handle them in the middle of the night this way without rousing the whole monastery, but hooded they would at least be quiet - and fastened their blocks to her own saddle and to Orain's, and gave the third to Alaric's chervine.
After a bit she looked up and found Alaric working at her side. "Some bastard betrayed us," he said shakily, listening to the distant clamor of bells - it was growing nearer and nearer now, "They're searching the city house to house, when the time comes they reach the monastery, they'll search every cranny, the monk's cells, the very chapel! What is it, lad, you know Orain's counsel - are we to ride them down at the gates?"
"I am not in their counsels," Romilly said, "But something of a secret gate at the highest part-"
"And while we waste time looking for the secret paths, Lyondri's men find us and I dance on a rope's end?" demanded Alaric. Romilly said steadily, "I do not think Dom Carlo will abandon us like that. Trust him."
"Aye; but the vai dom is Hastur, when all's done, and blood's thicker than wine, they say.. .." Alaric grumbled.
"Alaric!" she turned round to him, shocked beyond speech. After a moment she found her voice and said, "Surely you can't believe Carlo would side with the Hastur-lord against - Well, - against us, and Orain-"
"Well, not against Orain," he said, "Get that saddle on, boy, if there's a chance...but how do I know? Likely ye're of the gentlefolk yourself. . . ." his voice trailed away, uncertain.
"Finish with the saddling, and don't talk nonsense," she said sharply. "Will you lift that grain-bag to the saddle? I can't lift it alone-"
He helped her to hoist the heavy pack to the back of the chervine, and led the beast out of the stable. A hand seized her wrist in a hard grip and she started to cry out before, not knowing how, she recognized Orain's grip, even in the darkness.
"This way," he whispered, and, knowing his voice even in the silenced whisper, she relaxed and let him lead them into the dark passageway. She heard the other men, trying to move silently, only small creaks and rustles; someone bashed a toe against a rock wall and cursed softly. Then, she heard a soft childish voice.
"My lord Orain-"
"Ah - it's you, ye devil's pup-"
Caryl cried out, a muffled squeak. "I won't hurt you," he said, gasping - Romilly could not see in the dark, but sensed, from the pain in the small voice, that Orain had grabbed him harshly. "No, I only - I meant to guide you on the secret path - I don't want my father to find the vai dom - he will be angry, but-"
"Let him go, Orain," Romilly muttered, "he's telling the truth!"
"Ah - I'll trust your laran, boy," said Orain, and she heard a little whimper of relief as, evidently, he loosed his punishing grip on the child. "A path you know? Lead us. But if you play us false-" he added through clenched teeth, "Child or no, I'll run my skean into you."
They followed through the narrow passage, crowding together, bumping, the sentry-birds making uneasy squealing noises in the darkness. Someone cursed in an undertone and Romilly saw the flash of flint on steel, but Orain commanded harshly, "Put that out!" and the light subsided, with someone grumbling and swearing.
"Silence," Alaric commanded harshly, and there was no sound except the uneasy sounds of animals crowded in the narrow stone passages. There was a place where they had to go single file in the dark and one of the loaded chervines stuck between the stone walls. Alaric and one of the other men had to off-load the beast, hastily, swearing in whispers, while they hauled and shoved. Later they came to a place where the air was bad, coming up as if from the sulphurous center of the earth, and even Romilly could not stifle her coughing. Caryl murmured, "I am sorry - this is only a little bit, but watch your steps here, there are cracks and fissures, someone might break a leg."
Romilly groped her way along in the dark, scuffling her feet slowly against the possibility of an unseen crack underfoot. At last they were all through, and there was a breath of icy air from the glacier, a little riffling wind, and they stood out of doors in chilly starlight. The pallid face of a single moon, the tiny pearl-colored Mormallor, hung just above the hill, hardly bright enough to lighten the darkness at all; and underfoot was pale slippery ice.
"No one travels this path," whispered Caryl, "except for a few of the brothers who practice their mastery of the ordeals by living here, naked, and even if they knew you were here, they would not know or care who you were, they think only of the things of the heavenly realms, not of kings and wars. But oh, go carefully, my lords - there are dangers-"
"What dangers?" demanded Alaric, grabbing his throat Caryl squeaked softly, but did not cry out.
"No dangers of man; banshee-birds live here, though our Brothers have a pact with them, as they say the holy Saint Valentine-of-the-Snows had a pact when he preached to them and called them God's little brothers."
"You led us into a nest of banshee-birds, ye devil's pup?" Alaric demanded, but Orain said, "Let him go, damn you, man; touch the boy again and I'll give you something you'll remember! The banshees are not of his calling, he thought to warn us, which is more than even the Father Master thought to do!"
"Take your hands from the boy, Alaric! Are you mad?" demanded a new voice, and Dom Carlo stood among them. Romilly did not see from whence he had come; he was simply there. Later she realized he must have come through another secret tunnel or path, but at the moment it was as if he jumped up among them like magic. Caryl gave a little startled cry; Romilly's eyes were adjusting to the darkness now, and she could see the child's face. He held out his arms to Dom Carlo for a kinsman's embrace, saying simply, "Uncle. I am glad you are safe."
"It makes my heart glad to know you are not my enemy," said Carlo, not as if he spoke to a child, but as if he spoke to another noble, his equal in rank and age. He kissed the boy on either cheek. "Walk in the Light, lad, till we meet again."
"Vai dom-" Caryl's young high voice suddenly wavered, "I am your friend, not your enemy. But - I beg you - if my father is in your hands - spare him for my sake-"
Dom Carlo held Caryl's shoulders gently between his hands. He said, "I wish I could promise you that, son. I do swear this, by the Lord of Light, whom I serve as you the Bearer of Burdens; I will make no quarrel with Lyondri while he makes none with me. For the rest, I will hope with all my heart that Lyondri stays afar from me; I wish him far less ill than he wishes me. He was once my friend, and the quarrel was none of my making." He kissed Caryl again, and released him. "Now get you back to your bed, child, before your father hears that you have been abroad this night, or Father Master seeks to punish you, May the Gods walk with you, chiyu."
"And with you, my lord." Caryl turned and started back into the dark mouth of the passage. Then Alaric grabbed him around the waist. He struggled, but one quick blow from Alaric sent him sagging softly, with a little sigh, into the man's arms.
"Are you mad, vai dom?' he demanded, "Lyondri's own son in our hands for hostage, and you'd let him free? With this whelp in our hands, we could bargain our way out of Rakhal's very clutches, to say nothing of being secure against Lyondri Hastur!"
"And you would reward him like this for guiding us to safety?" Romilly cried in outrage, but Alaric's face was hard and set.
"You're a fool, boy. And you too, under favor, my lords," he said to Orain and Dom Carlo. "The boy may have led us honestly - who'd seek to distrust a little one with angel face like this? But his elders have laran even if he means us no harm, how do we know they haven't trailed us through the boy's laran! I won't hurt the least hair on his head, but he stays with us till we're safe from glacier and Lyondri's men! We can leave him in Caer Bonn, or some such place!"
"If you've hurt him-" Dom Carlo said with soft menace, and Romilly hoped his wrath would never be turned on her. He felt the boy's forehead. "I wouldn't reward the child's loyalty like this! But we can't leave him here unconscious, to die of the cold," he added. "Bring him with you, then, if you must; we dare not delay for him to recover. But you'll hear of this after, Alaric," he said angrily, and turned his back on the man. "Set the boy on one of the horses, and you, young Rumal," he added, beckoning to Romilly, "Ride behind him, for he cannot keep his saddle as he is now, and I am reluctant to tie him as if he were a prisoner. Now come, make haste!"
The limp unconscious form of Caryl was lifted into the saddle and Romilly, mounting behind him, had all she could do to hold the child from falling on the uneven, icy path. They went upward and upward in silence, with no sound but the small, uneasy cries of the hooded sentry-birds. Riding in the dark, holding Caryl, small and limp, in her arms, Romilly thought of Rael, sleeping against her shoulder; missed him, sharply and with bitterness. Would she ever see her little brother again?
The narrow path was steep, so steep that Romilly had to lean forward in the saddle as they climbed; it was narrow, and icy underfoot, and it was all she could do to hold Caryl's
unconscious weight against her so that he would not fall from the saddle. But the men, too, had all they could do to manage the nervous chervines and the sentry-birds, who were uneasy, and, even hooded, kept making little squealing sounds and trying to flap their wings and hop around restlessly on their blocks. This made horses and chervines even more nervous; she wondered what their sharper senses saw, and would have tried rapport to find out, but it was all she could do, on the steep path, to hold herself and the unconscious child in the saddle without falling.
Once there sounded a high screaming wail, a paralyzing sound that seemed to turn Romilly's blood to ice. Her horse started and snorted nervously under her, and she fought to control it. The sentry-birds fidgeted on their blocks, flapping their wings in panic. Romilly had never heard such a cry before, but she needed no one to tell her what it was; the cry of a banshee, the huge flightless birds who lived above the snow-line; all but blind, but sensing the body warmth of anything that lived, and their powerful claws that could disembowel horse or man with a single stroke. And it was night, when they actually could see a little, blind as they were in the light of the red sun. Their terrible cries, she had heard, were intended to paralyze prey with fright; hearing it now in the distance, she hoped she would never actually see one.
At the sound Caryl made a small pained noise and stirred, his hands going up to feel the lump on his head. The movement made the horse startle; his hooves all but slipped on the icy path. Romilly bent forward and whispered urgently, "It's all right, but you must be quiet; the road is dangerous just here, and if you frighten the horse, he may fall - and so would we. Be still, Caryl."
"Mistress Romilly?" he whispered, and she said crossly "Hush!" He subsided, looking up at her. Her eyes had adjusted now to the darkness so that she could see his small frightened face. Still gingerly feeling the lump at his temple, he blinked and she hoped he would not cry.
He whispered, "How did I get here? What happened?" And then, remembering, "Someone hit me!" He sounded more surprised than angry. She supposed that he, a pampered lowland child, had never been struck before, that no one had spoken to him other than gently. She held him tight in her arms.
"Don't be afraid," she whispered, "I won't let them hurt you." She knew, as she said it, that if Alaric offered any further violence to the child she would set herself between them.
He wriggled himself into a more comfortable position on the saddle; now that he could sit upright, and was no longer a dead weight who must be held to keep him from falling, it was easier to control her horse.
"Where are we?" he whispered.
"On the road to which you guided us; Dom Carlo brought you with us because he could not leave you lying unconscious to die of the cold, but he means you no harm. Alaric wanted you as a hostage; but Orain won't let him hurt you again."
"Lord Orain has always been kind to me," said Caryl after a moment, "even when I was very small. I wish my father had not quarreled with him. And Father Master will be very angry with me."
"It wasn't your fault."
"Father Master says whatever happens to us is always our fault, one way or another," said the child, keeping his voice low, "If we have not deserved it in this life, we have certainly done so in another. If it is good we have earned it and may enjoy it, but if it is bad, we must also believe that somehow we have deserved the bad too, and it is not always easy to know which is which. I am not sure what that means," he added naively, "but he said I would understand when I was older."
"Then I must be very young too," said Romilly, unable to keep back a laugh - talking elevated cristoforo philosophy on this dangerous road, with the king's men, for all they knew, hard at their heels! "For I confess I do not understand it at all."
Orain heard the laugh; he pulled his horse aside and waited for them to come up with bun, where the path widened just a fraction. "Are you awake, young Caryl?"
"I wasn't asleep," the boy protested, scowling, "Somebody hit me!"
'True," said Orain seriously, "And he has heard about it, believe me, from Dom Carlo. But now, I fear, you must ride with us to Caer Donn; you cannot possibly return alone over this road. I would have trusted you not to betray us willfully, but I know from old that Lyondri has laran and might read in your thoughts which way we had gone. I give you my word, which, unlike your father, I have never broken, that when we reach Caer Donn you will be sent back to him under a flag of truce. He-" with an eloquent shrug of his caped shoulder, he indicated Dom Carlo, riding ahead, "wishes you no ill. But in this company I should warn you to guard your tongue."
"My lord-" Caryl began, but Orain gave a slight, warning shake of his head, and said quickly, "If you would be more comfortable riding behind me, you may, when we have gotten through this path; this is no place to stop and change horses. Or if you will give me the word of a Hastur that you will not try to flee from us, I will arrange it that one of the pack-animals can carry you, and you may ride alone."
"Thank you," the boy said, "but I would rather stay with-" he paused and swallowed and said, "with Rumal." She was astonished at his presence of mind; no other youngster, she was sure, could have remembered, even in this extremity, not to blurt out her secret.
"Ride carefully, then," Orain said, "and guard him well, Rumal." He turned back to his own riding, and Romilly, settling Caryl as comfortably as she could in front of her - it would indeed be easier if he could sit behind her and hang on, but there was no way to stop and change now - reflected that he had protected her even when he had nothing to gain by keeping her secret, and when he might have made trouble among his captors. An unusual youngster indeed, and cleverer than Rael, disloyal as she felt to her own little brother to think so.
He knew she was a woman. Though, she had thought sometimes that Dom Carlo knew and kept his counsel for his own reasons, whatever they were. And then, for the first time - so swiftly had affairs moved since she was awakened - she remembered Orain's exact words when he came seeking her. Is Carlo with you? This is no time for modesty! Had Carlo, then, confided to Orain - or been told by him, perhaps? - that he knew her a woman, and, knowing that, did he think her such a woman as might be free of her favors, so that he might have found Carlo in her bed? Even in the bitter cold, Romilly felt the hot flush of shame on her cheeks. Well, riding with them in men's clothes, what sort of woman could he think her?
Well, if he knew, he knew, and if he thought that of her, he must think what he liked. At least he had been gentleman enough not to spread it among these roughnecks. But she had begun to like Orain so much!
Again from the crags above them came the eerie scream of a banshee; it was closer now, and Romilly felt the throbbing, eldritch wail going all through her, as if her very bones were shuddering at the sound. She knew how the natural prey of the bird must feel; it seemed to stop her in her tracks, to wipe out the world around so that there was nothing except that dreadful vibration, which seemed to make her eyes blur and the world go dark around her. Caryl moaned and dug his hands over his ears with an agonized shiver, and she could see the men ahead of them fighting to control their terrified horses while the sentry-birds flapped, and the chervines made their odd bawling cry and stepped around, almost prancing with terror, on the icy path. One of them stumbled and went down and the rider fell, sliding some way before he could dig his heels into the ice and stand up, scrambling to catch his riding-animal; another beast piled into him and there was a clumsy sprawling collision. Swearing, they fought with the reins. The screaming of the hooded sentry-birds, their bating wings, added to the dismay, and again the eerie terror-filled banshee scream shuddered out from the crags above, and was answered by yet another.
Romilly gave Caryl a little shake. "Stop that!" she demanded furiously. "Help me, help me quiet the birds!" Her own breath was coming ragged, she could see it steaming in the icy air, but she put her mind swiftly to reaching out with that special sense of hers, and sending thoughts of calm, peace, food, affection. She could reach them still; as she felt Caryl's thoughts join with hers, one after another the great birds quieted, were still on their blocks on the saddles, and Carlo and his men could get the riding-animals under control again. Carlo gestured to them to gather close - the path widened here just enough that three or four of the animals could stand abreast, and they gathered in a little bunch.
The crags above them were beginning to stand out stark against the paling sky; pink and purple clouds outlined the blackness of the rocks of the pass. Dawn was near. The trail above them narrowed and led across the glacier; and even as they looked, a clumsy shadow moved on the face of the rocks, and again there came the terrible wailing scream, answered by another from higher up. Orain compressed his narrow lips and said wryly, "Just what we needed; two of the damned things! And daylight still a good hour away - and even when the sun comes up, we might not escape them. And we can't wait anyway; if there's pursuit we should be away and across the path before full daylight, and well to the other side where the woods will conceal our traces! A blind man would be able to read our tracks on ice, and Lyondri's sure to have half a dozen of his damned leroni with him!"
"We're in the very mouth of the trap," Carlo muttered, his face going silent and distant. He said at last, into the silence, "No pursuit, at least not yet - I need no leronis to tell me so
much. You were a damned fool to bring the boy, Alaric - with him to follow, Lyondri will follow us though the track led through all nine of Zandru's hells! Now he has a second and personal grudge!"
"If the boy's with us," Alaric said, his teeth set tight, "we can buy our lives, at least!"
Caryl drew himself upright on the saddle and said angrily, "My father would not compromise his honor for his son's life, and I would not want him to!"
"Lyondri's honor?" growled one of the men, "The sweet breath of the banshee, the welcoming climate of Zandru's ninth hell!"
"I will not hear you say-" Caryl began, but Romilly caught him around the waist before he could physically climb down the saddle and attack the speaker, and Carlo said quietly, "Enough, Caryl. A sentiment seemly for Lyondri's son, lad, but we have no time for babble. Somehow we must get across the path, and though I have no will to hurt you, if you can't keep your tongue behind your teeth, I fear you must be gagged; my men are in no mood to hear a defense of one who has set a price on our heads. And you, Garan, and you, Alaric, you shut your faces too; it's not well done to mock a child about his father's honor, and there's harder work ahead of us than quarreling with a little boy!" He looked up again as the. shrilling shriek of the banshee drowned their voices, and Romilly saw his whole body tense in the effort to conquer the purely physical fear that screaming cry created in their minds. Romilly hugged Caryl tight, not sure whether it was to comfort the child or to still her own fears, whispering, "Help me quiet the animals." It was well to give him something to think about except his own terror.
Again the soothing vibration spread out, and she knew her own talent, laran or whatever they called it, enhanced by the already-powerful gift of the young Hastur child. As it died into silence, Alaric said, his hand on his dagger, "I have hunted banshees before this, vai dom, and slain them too."
"I doubt not your courage, man," said Carlo, "but your wit, if you think we can face two banshees in a narrow pass, without losing man or horse. We have no deaf-hounds, nor nets and ropes. Perhaps, if we keep between the horses and chervines, we may manage to escape with a horse for each, but then would we be afoot in the worst country in the Hellers! And if we stand here, we will be taken in the jaws of the trap."
"Better the beak of the banshee than the tender mercies of Lyondri's men," said one of the riders, edging uneasily away from his place at the head of the little cavalcade. "I'll face what you face, my lord."
"Too bad your skill with birds extends not to such creatures as those" said Orain, looking at Romilly with a wry grin, "Could you but calm those birds as you worked with hawk and sentry-bird, then should we be as well off as any Hastur-lord with his pet leronis!"
Romilly shuddered at the thought ... to enter into the minds of those cruel carnivores, prowling the heights? She said weakly "I hope you are joking, vai dom."
"Why should that laran not be as workable against banshee as against sentry-bird, or for that matter, barnyard fowl?" asked Caryl, sitting upright on the saddle, "They are all creatures of Nature, and if Rom - Rumal's Gift can quiet the sentry-birds, with my own laran to help, why, perhaps we can reach the banshees too, and perhaps convince them that we are not destined for their breakfast."
Romilly felt again a perceptible shudder run through her. But before young Caryl's eager eyes, she was ashamed to confess her fear.
Carlo said quietly, "I am reluctant to leave our safety in the hands of two children, when grown men are helpless. Yet if you can help us - there seems no other way, and if we delay here, we are dead men, all of us. Your father would not harm you, my young Carolin, but I fear the rest of us would die, and not too quickly or easily."
Caryl was blinking hard. He said, "I do not want any harm to come to you, sir. I do not think my father understands that you are a good man; perhaps Dom Rakhal has poisoned his mind against you. If I can do anything to help, so that he may have time to think more sensibly about all this quarrel, I will be very glad to do what I can." But Romilly noticed that he too looked a little frightened. And as they moved slowly forward he whispered, "I am afraid, Rumal - they look so fierce it is hard to remember that they too are the creations of God. But I will try to remember that the blessed Valentine-of-the-Snows had a pact of friendship with them and called them little brothers."
I do not think I truly wish to be brother to the banshee, Romilly thought, urging her horse forward with a little cluck and the pressure of her knee, trying to throw out soothing thoughts to calm the animal's fear. But she must not think that way. She must remember that the same Force which created the dogs and horses she loved, and the beloved hawks, had created the banshee for its own purposes, even if she did not know what they were. And the sentry-birds, who looked so fierce, were gentle and loving as cagebirds, when she had gotten to know them; she truly loved Prudence, and even for Temperance and Diligence she felt a genuine affection.
If the banshee is my brother . . . and for a moment she felt an amusement bubbling up that she recognized as all but hysterical. Her gentle brother Ruyven, timid Darren, dear little Rael, in the same breath with the screaming horrors on the crag?
She heard Caryl whispering to himself; the only words she caught were, Bearer of Burdens and Blessed Valentine . . . and she knew the child was praying. She caught him tight against her, burying her face against his caped shoulder, closing her eyes. Was this true goodness, or a mad presumption, to think that somehow their minds could reach the mind of a banshee - if the banshees have any mind, she thought, and again forced the rising hysteria down. No one knew she was a girl, she could not cry and scream with terror! She thought, grimly, that both Orain and Dom Carlo looked frightened too; where they were afraid, she had no need to feel shame for her fear!
She shut her eyes again and tried to form a prayer, but could not remember any. Bearer of Burdens, you know what I want to pray, and now I have to try and do what I can to save us all, she said in a half-voiced whisper, then sighed and said, "We will try, Caryl. Come, link with me-"
Her mind reached out, just aware enough of her body to keep it upright in the saddle, moving with the horse's uneasy step. Reached out - she was aware of the horses, shuddering inwardly yet moving on, step by slow step, out of loyalty to their riders; of the sentry-birds, frightened at the noise, but calm because she and Caryl, whose mental voices they trusted, had bidden them be calm. She reached farther, felt something cold and terrifying, felt again the shrilling scream, shuddering through all creation, but, her hands clasped tightly in Caryl's, she stayed with it, moved into the alien mind.
At first she was conscious only of tremendous pressures, a hunger so fierce that it cramped her belly, a restless cold driving toward warmth, that seemed like light and home and satisfaction, the touch of warmth driving inward and flooding her whole body with a hunger almost sexual, and she knew, with a tiny fragment that was still Romilly, that she had reached the mind of the banshee. Poor hungry, cold thing, . . it is only seeking warmth and food, like the whole of Creation. . . . Her eyes blotted out, she could not see, only feel, she was the banshee and for a moment she fought a raging battle, her whole mind alive with the need to fling herself upon the warmth, to rend and tear and feel the exquisitely delicious feel of warm blood bursting ... she felt her own hands tighten on Caryl's warmth, and then with a leftover part of herself she knew she was human, a woman, with a child to protect, and others dependent on her skill.
Linked tightly to Caryl, she felt his soothing mental touch, like a soft murmur, Brother banshee, you are one with all life and one with me. The Gods created you to rend and tear at your prey, I praise and love you as the Gods made you, but there are beasts in this wilderness who know not fear because the Gods have given them no consciousness. Search for your prey among them, my little brothers, and let me pass. . . . In the name of the blessed Valentine, I bid you, bear your own burdens and seek not to end my life before the time appointed. Blessed is he who preys and blessed is he who gives life to another....
I mean you no harm, Romilly added her quiet mental appeal to the child's, seek elsewhere for your food.
And for a moment, in the great flooding awareness that she, and the horse she rode, and the child's soft body in her arms, and the banshee's wild hunger and seeking for warmth, were all one, a transcendent wave of joy spread through her; the red streaks of the rising sun filled her with heat and wonderful flooding happiness, Caryl's warmth against her breast was an overflow of tenderness and love, and for a dangerous moment she thought, even if the banshee takes me for its prey, I shall be even more one with its wonderful life-force. But I too want to live and rejoice in the sunlight. She had never known such happiness. She knew that there were tears on his face, but it did not matter, she was part of everything that lived and had breath, part of the sun and the rocks, even the cold of the glacier was somehow wonderful because it heightened her awareness of the heat of the rising sun.
Then somehow the magical link shattered and was gone. They were on the downward side of the pass, and high above them, the lumbering form of a banshee was shambling toward a cavemouth in the rocks, without paying them the slightest heed. Caryl was crying in her arms, hugging her tight. "Oh, it was hungry and we cheated it out of its breakfast"
She patted him, too shaken to speak, still caught up in the experience. Carlo said huskily, "Thank you, lads. I don't really want to be the banshee's breakfast, even if the poor thing was hungry, it can take its breakfast elsewhere."
The men were looking at them in awe. Orain said shakily, trying to break the spell, "Ah, you're too big and tough a boy for a banshee's delicate appetite - it would rather have a tender young ice-rabbit, I'm sure," and they all guffawed. Romilly felt weak, still under the spell of the wide-ranging enchantment they had woven with their laran.
Dom Carlo rummaged in his saddle-bags. He said roughly, "I can't say what I owe you two. I remember the leroni were starving after they did such work - here." He thrust dried meat, dried fruit, wafers of journey-bread at them. Romilly began to sink her teeth into the meat, and then somehow her gorge rose.
Once this was living, breathing flesh, how can I make it my prey? Or I am no better than the banshee. Once this dried flesh was the living breath of all my brothers. She gagged, thrust the meat from her and thrust a dried fruit into her mouth.
This too is of the life of all things, but it had no breath and it does not sicken me with the consciousness of what once it was. The Bearer of Burdens created some life with no purpose but to give up its life that others might feed . . . and as she felt the sweetness of the fruit between her teeth, briefly, the ecstasy returned, that this fruit should give up its sweetness so that she might no longer hunger....
Caryl, too, was chewing ravenously at a hunk of the hard bread, but she noted that he, too, had put the meat away, though a piece had small sharp toothmarks in it. So he had shared her experience. Distantly, like something she might have dreamed a long time ago, she wondered how she could ever again eat meat.
Even when they made brief camp, with the sun high in the sky, to give grain to the horses and meat to the sentry-birds, she ate none of the dried meat, but only fruit and bread, and stirred some water into the dried porridge-powder, eating a bowlful. Yet, to her own surprise, it did not trouble her when the sentry-birds tore greedily at the somewhat gamy meat they carried for them; it was their nature, and they were as they were meant to be.
She noticed that the men still kept a wary distance. She was not surprised. If she had seen two other people quiet an attacking banshee, she would have been silent in awe, too. She still could not believe she had done it.
As they finished their meal and resaddled the horses, she looked at Dom Carlo, standing straight and tall at the edge of the clearing, with his face distant and listening. She was now skilled enough in the use of laran to know that he was extending his mental awareness along the trail behind them, toward the pass.
"So far we are not pursued," he said at last, "And the paths are so many, unless Lyondri has a horde of leroni with him, I do not truly think he will be able to pick up our trail. We must keep ordinary caution; but I think we can ride for Caer Donn in safety now." He held out his arms to Caryl.
"Will you ride behind my saddle, kinsman?" he asked, as if he spoke to a grown man and his equal, "There are things I would say to you."
Caryl glanced at Romilly, then collected himself and said courteously, "As you wish, kinsman." He scrambled up into the saddle. As they rode away, she could see that they were talking together in low tones, and Romilly found that she missed the child's warm weight in front of her. Once she saw Caryl shaking his head, seriously, and a word or two reached her ears.
"... oh, no, kinsman, I give you my word of that...."
Suddenly jealous of this closeness, Romilly wished she could hear what they were saying. So near, now, was her laran to the surface, that it occurred to her; Perhaps I need only reach out and know.
And then she was shocked at herself. What was she thinking, she who had been reared in a Great House and taught proper courtesy toward both equals and inferiors? Why, that would be no worse than eavesdropping at doors, snooping like a nasty child, that would be completely unworthy of her.
Having the power of laran, certainly, did not mean that she had a right to know what did not concern her! And then, frowning as she fell into line - she had taken the sentrybird Prudence on her own saddle, so that Dom Carlo could carry Caryl behind him - she found herself pondering the proper manners associated with laran. She had the power, and perhaps the right, to force her will on the hawks she trained, on the horses she rode, even, to save her life, on the wild banshee of the crags. But how far did this power go? How far was it right to use it? She could urge her horse to bear saddle and bridle, because he loved her and willingly learned what would bring him closer to his master. She had felt Preciosa's deep love, so that the hawk returned of her free will when Romilly had set her free. (And that was pain. Would she ever see Preciosa again?) But there were limits to this power. It was right, perhaps, to quiet the dogs who loved her, so they would not awaken the household to her going.
But there was trouble, too, and a deep conflict. She could urge the prey into the beak of the hawk she hunted, she could perhaps force the young and stupid ice-rabbit into the waiting mouth of the dogs . . . surely that was not intended, that was not part of nature, that was a distinctly unfair advantage to have in hunting!
Her eyes stinging, she bent her head, and for the first time in her life found herself sincerely praying.
Bearer of Burdens! I did not ask this power. Please, please, help me use it, not for wrong purposes, but only to try and be one with life. . . . Confusedly, she added, As I was, for a little while, this morning, when I knew that I was one with all that lived. As you must be, Holy one. Help me decide how to use this power wisely. And after a moment she added, in a whisper, For now I know I am a part of life ... but such a small part!