so I shan't go grizzling out I'm-sorries, though I expect you wish the five hells would take us. But would you see us cast down like this?'
'You don't have it as bad as some,' Gerin said: 'The temple at Ikos crashed in ruins yesterday.' The peasants wailed, some in genuine horror and distress, others, Gerin judged, in fear that, with the temple ruined, no one would ever again use the road from the Elabon Way to Ikos. That was, he thought, a good guess. He went on, 'In aid of which, I present to you the lady Selatre, who was till yesterday the Sibyl at Ikos, and whom we rescued from the wreckage of the place.'
The villagers gasped and exclaimed all over again. The Fox got down from the wagon to let Selatre descend without-the gods forfend!touching him; Van shifted on the seat to make her way out easy. The peasants stared at her and muttered among themselves. At last one of them called to her, 'Lady, though the temple be fallen, why did you not stay and wait for its repair?'
Selatre cast down her eyes and did not answer. Gerin looked for some gentle way to break the news of the eruption of the monsters from the caves below the fane. While he was looking, Van, who minced few words, said, 'If she'd stayed, she'd have been eaten. The same is liable to happen to the lot of you in the next few days, so you'd better listen to what we have to say.'
He and Gerin, as was their way, took turns telling the tale of what had happened back at Ikos. When they were through, the fellow from whom they'd bought the chicken, who seemed to be a village spokesman, said, 'If you didn't have the Sibyl with you, I'd reckon you were makin' up the tale to pay us back with a fright for wanting to lift the bronze off you.'
'And since the lady is here, what do you believe?' Gerin demanded in no small exasperation. 'You'll find out soon enough whether we lie, I can tell you that. You've made a point of getting arms and armor, however you do it. When those creatures come, you'll need them. Don't leave them sitting wherever you've got them hidden; wear the mail, and take the spears and swords out into the fields with you.'
'Take bows, too,' Van said. 'These monsters aren't what you'd call clever, from the little we saw of 'em. They don't know arrows. Every one you kill from long range is one you won't have to fight up close. I'd say they're stronger and faster than people, and they have nasty teeth.'
The details the Fox and Van gave were enough to begin to convince the villagers they weren't just trying to frighten them. 'Maybe we'll do as you say,' the old man said after looking over his comrades.
'Do whatever you bloody well please,' Gerin said. 'If you don't care about your necks, don't expect me to do your worrying for you. All I'd like to do before I get out of here is buy a proper wool dress for the lady. I'll pay silver for it, too, though the gods alone know why I'm dealing justly with folk who aimed to deal unjustly with me.'
When he said 'silver,' three or four women ran into their housesthose that still stood-and brought out dresses. None of them seemed to the Fox to stand out from the others; he turned to Selatre. She felt of them and examined the stitching with the air of a woman who had done plenty of her own spinning and weaving and sewing. Gerin remembered she had been a peasant before she was Sibyl: she knew of such things.
'This one,' she said at last.
The woman who'd produced it tried to set a price more or less equal to its weight in silver. Gerin, who parted with precious metal reluctantly at best, let out a loud, scornful laugh. 'We don't have to buy here,' he reminded her. 'Other villages must have seamstresses who've not been stricken mad.' After that, she quickly got more reasonable; he ended up buying the dress with only a slight wince.
'Have you also a pair of drawers you might sell?' Selatre asked.
The woman shook her head. 'Don't wear 'em but in winter, to help keep my backside warm.' Selatre shrugged; likely it had been the same where she grew up, too.
'Do you want to put the dress on here, where you'll have more in the way of privacy?' Gerin asked her.
'I'd not thought of that,' she said. 'Thank you for doing it for me.' She ducked into one of the peasant huts, soon returning wearing the wool dress and with the linen one under her arm. Some of the aura of the Sibyl's cave left her with the change of clothes; she seemed more intimately a part of the world around her, not so much a waif cast adrift by circumstance. Maybe she felt that, too; she sighed as she stepped around Gerin to stow the linen dress in the wagon. 'It's as if I'm putting away part of my past.'
'The gods willing, you have long years left ahead of you,' Gerin answered. He meant it as no more than a polite commonplace, but it set him wondering. With monsters not only loose on the world but emerging from the ruins of Biton's temple, who could judge the will of the gods?
Van spoke to the villagers: 'Remember what we told you, now. How sorry you'll be in a few days depends on whether you listen to us or not. You take no notice today, you won't have the chance to be sorry and wish you'd paid heed.'
'And the lot of you, you're just driving away and leaving the trouble behind your wheels,' said the older peasant who spoke for the peasants.
He had some reason to sound bitter. Peasants stayed with their land; a journey to the next village was something strange and unusual for them. But Gerin said, 'If what I fear is true, you'll just see the creatures before us; there may well be enough to torment all the northlands.'
He did not convince the peasant, who said, 'Aye, but you're a lord; you can hide behind your stone walls.' He gestured to the buildings of the village, some of them fallen and even those still standing none too strong. 'Look at the forts we have.'
To that the Fox found no good reply. Once Selatre was aboard the wagon, he climbed in, too. Van clucked to the horses and flicked the reins. The animals snorted and began to walk. The wagon rolled out of the peasant village.
When they'd gone a couple of furlongs, Selatre said, 'The man back there was right. He and his have no way to shelter against the creatures that come forth against them.'
'I know,' Gerin answered sadly. 'I have nothing I can do about it, though. Did I stay to fight, I'd die, and so would they, and so I'd do them no good, and myself only harm.'
'I saw as much,' Selatre said. 'Otherwise I'd not have waited to speak until the villagers could not hear. But that's a callous way to have to look at the world.'
'Lady, the world's a hard place,' Van said. 'Begging your pardon, but I'm thinking you've not seen a whole lot of it. Well, now you will, and much of what you see, I fear, will leave you less than joyful.'
Selatre didn't answer. Gerin couldn't tell whether that was because she disagreed with Van but was too polite to say so or because she agreed but didn't care to admit it. His opinion of her good sense had risen a notch, though, for the way she'd held her tongue where speaking out would have embarrassed him.
They returned to the Elabon Way that afternoon. Selatre exclaimed in pleasure at seeing Biton's mark on the stone that marked the side road. Then, remembering what had happened back at Ikos, she sobered once more. Gerin said, 'I'm sorry the stone reminded you of the temple, but I must say you're taking it bravely.'
'In part, I suppose, what happened back there still seems unreal, not least because I wasn't awake to see and feel it myself,' she answered. 'And I lived most of my life in a village not much different from the one we went through. I know life can be hard.'
Van urged the horses onto the stone slabs of the Elabon Way. The drum of their hoofbeats, so different from the muffled clopping they'd made on the dirt side road, caught Selatre's notice. She exclaimed in wonder: 'Here's a marvel! Who would have thought you could cover over a roadway and use it the whole year around? No mud here.'
'That's why they made it so,' Gerin agreed. 'You catch on fast.'
'The work it must have taken,' Selatre said. 'How far does it run?'
'From the Kirs up to the Niffet,' the Fox said. 'In the old days, they could command and have folk heed.' He clicked his tongue between his teeth, remembering the troubles he had keeping the stretch of the Elabon Way under his control even partly and poorly repaired.
Van said, 'Seems to me, Captain, every time we come north toward your holding, we're in the midst of trouble. Last time, we were heading into the teeth of the Trokmoi, and now we're stormcrows ahead of those- things-coming out of Ikos.'
'We'd better stay ahead of them, too,' Gerin said. 'Otherwise we won't make it back to Fox Keep.' He pointed to the horses. 'We have to get the best we can from them without making them break down. Getting stuck somewhere could prove downright embarrassing.'
