quick lunch. By this time, Wil was feeling much improved and was able to eat some of the dried meat and vegetables that comprised the meal. Cephelo spoke to him briefly, inquiring politely as to his health, then moved away, his mind clearly on other matters. There were vague mutterings among the Rovers of the rumored Devil, and it was apparent to the Valeman that the Family was more than a little concerned with the old trapper’s report. Rovers were a superstitious lot anyway, and Cephelo’s decision to ignore a warning such as this one was not popular.
The remainder of the afternoon passed quickly. Wil took a turn at driving Cephelo’s wagon while the old woman napped in the back. Amberle rode beside him as he guided the four–horse team forward in the caravan line through the broad expanse of the grasslands, humming and singing softly to herself but saying very little to him. The Valeman left her alone, concentrating on the task at hand, staring out thoughtfully into the emptiness of the plains. Several times Cephelo rode a big sorrel past them, his forest green cloak bollowing out behind him, his dark face covered with a sheen of sweat from the heat of the day. Once Wil caught a quick glimpse of Artaq as the Rover relief horses were driven past the wagons toward a watering hole somewhere ahead of the caravan. He was not being ridden, and it appeared that as yet Cephelo had not decided how he would use the big black — which meant, hopefully, that he had not decided if he intended to keep him.
A little more than an hour before sunset, they entered the Tirfing, a land of small lakes and surrounding woodlands spread out beneath the rim of the grasslands. Far to the west, beneath the red ball of the setting sun, lay the dark mass of the Westland forests. The Rover wagons wound their way down out of the plains into the wooded stretches of the Tirfing along a rutted earthen trail worn by the passing of countless other travelers before them. The heat of the open grasslands dissipated quickly as they entered the sheltering trees, shadows lengthening across the trail before them with the onset of dusk. Through, breaks in the woodlands, they began to glimpse bits and pieces of the lakes that dotted the country about them.
It was dark when Cephelo finally brought them to a halt in a large clearing, ringed by oaks and overlooking a small lake several hundred feet to the north. The wagons swung into the familiar circle, rumbling and creaking to a weary halt. Wil was so stiff that he could barely move. While the Rover men worked to unhitch the teams and the women began preparations for the evening meal, the Valeman climbed down gingerly from the hard board seat and tried walking off the stiffness. Amberle chose to walk another way, and he did not bother to follow her. He limped through the caravan circle to the fringes of the surrounding trees, pausing there to stretch himself painfully and allow the blood to circulate through cramped limbs.
Moments later he heard footsteps and turned to find Eretria approaching, her slim form another shadow in the evening dusk. She was dressed in high boots and leather riding clothes, a red silk scarf about her waist and another at her throat. Black hair tumbled down about her shoulders, loose and windblown. She smiled as she came up to him, her dark eyes twinkling mischievously.
«Do not stray too far, Wil Ohmsford,” she advised. «A Devil might find you and then what would you do?»
«Let him have me.» Wil grimaced, rubbing his backside. «Anyway, I do not plan on doing much straying until after I’ve been fed.»
He eased himself down into the tall grass, placing his back against one of the oaks. Eretria watched him wordlessly for a moment, then sat down beside him.
«Where have you been all day?» the Valeman asked conversationally.
«Watching you,” she replied, then smiled wickedly as she saw the look that appeared on his face. «You didn’t see me, of course. You weren’t supposed to.»
He hesitated uncomfortably. «Why were you watching me?»
«Cephelo wanted you watched.» She arched her eyebrows. «He doesn’t trust you — or the Elven girl you claim is your sister.»
She was staring at him boldly now, as if daring him to contradict her. Wil felt a quick moment of panic.
«Amberle is my sister,” he stated as assertively as he could.
Eretria shook her head. «She is no more your sister than I am Cephelo’s daughter. She does not look at you as a sister would; her eyes say that she is something else. Still, it makes little difference to me. If you wish that she be your sister, then so shall she be. Just don’t let Cephelo catch you playing this little game.»
Now it was Wil’s turn to stare. «Wait a minute,” he said after a moment’s pause. «What do you mean she is no more my sister than you are Cephelo’s daughter? He said you were his daughter, didn’t he?»
«What Cephelo says and what is true are not necessarily the same — in fact, very seldom the same.» She leaned forward. «Cephelo has no children. He bought me when I was five from my father. My father was poor and could offer me nothing. He had other daughters, so one would not be missed. Now I belong to Cephelo. But I am not his daughter.»
She said it so matter–of–factly that for a moment Wil could think of nothing to say in response. She saw his confusion and laughed merrily.
«We are Rovers, Wil — you know our ways. Besides, it could have been much worse for me. I could have been given to a much lesser man. Cephelo is a Leader; he has respect and position. As his daughter, I benefit from this. I have more freedom in my life than most women. And I have learned much, Healer. It has made me more than a match for most.»
«I would not want to be the one to test that,” he admitted. «But why are you telling me this?»
She pursed her lips teasingly. «Because I like you — why else?»
«That is what I am wondering.» He ignored the look.
She straightened abruptly, her face petulant.
«Are you married to this Elven girl? Is she promised to you?»
His surprise was evident. «No.»
«Good. I thought not.» The petulance disappeared. She paused, her smile wicked once more. «Cephelo does not plan to return your horse to you.»
Wil considered the statement carefully «You know this?»
«I know how he is. He will not return your horse. He will let you go on your way if you do not cause him any trouble or try to take back the horse, but he will never give it back to you willingly.»
The Valeman’s face was expressionless. «I’ll ask again — why are you telling me this?»
«Because I can help you.»
«And why should you do that?»
«Because you, in turn, can help me.»
Wil frowned. «How?»
Eretria crossed her legs before her and placed her hands on her knees, rocking back. Her dark eyes danced with amusement.
«I would guess, Wil Ohmsford, that you are much more than what you have told us — that you are most certainly more than a simple Healer traveling the grasslands of Callahorn with your sister. I would guess that this Elven girl has been given into your care and that you accompany her as an escort, perhaps a protector.» One brown hand came up hurriedly. «Do not bother to deny this, Healer — a lie from your lips would be wasted on me, for I am the daughter of the world’s foremost liar and know the art far better than you.»
She smiled and put one hand on his arm. «I like you Wil — there is no lie in that. I want you to have your horse back again. Obviously it is important that you get him back or you would not have come after us. Alone, you will not be successful. But I could help you.»
Wil looked doubtful. «Why would you do that?» he asked finally.
«If I help you regain your horse, then I want you to take me with you when you go.»
«What!» The exclamation was spoken before he could think better of it.
«Take me with you,” she repeated firmly.
«I cannot do that!»
«You can if you wish your horse back.»
He shook his head helplessly. «Why would you want to leave? You just finished telling me that…»
She cut him short. «All that is in the past. Cephelo has decided that it is time that I married. In Rover tradition, he will select my husband and for a price, turn me over to him. My life has been good, but I have no intention of being sold a second time.»
«Couldn’t you just leave on your own? You seem capable of that.»
