“It’s not so bad,” he said as he crawled out, blinking.
Karanissa followed him, one hand shielding her eyes. “That’s easy for you to say,” she retorted, “but I haven’t seen the sun in four hundred years!” She shivered. “And it’s cold, too.”
Tobas spotted Peren, sitting quietly on the far side of the remains of last night’s fire, stirring the ashes with a stick to get out the last bits of warmth. “Good morning!” he called.
Peren nodded acknowledgment, then stood up, brushing ash from his breeches. “We should get moving,” he said. “I’ve packed up everything but the tent, and I scratched out a stone for the grave. Derithon the Mage — that was the name?”
“Yes,” Tobas said.
“I thought so,” Peren replied, nodding. “Well, are we heading for Dwomor, or hadn’t you decided?”
“Dwomor, by way of the cottage where I left the tapestry. What’s your hurry, though?”
Peren stared at him for a moment, then said, “Tobas, today is the fifth of Snowfall, and we’re leagues away from anywhere, in the middle of the mountains. I don’t care to stay up here any longer than necessary; even if you and your witch can keep us from freezing, we would still starve if a real storm caught us here.”
“Oh,” Tobas replied sheepishly. “You’re right. What should I do?”
“You and she can eat breakfast while I pack up the tent,” Peren said, holding out a sewn pouch of dry salt beef. “I’m afraid it’s cold, but I didn’t want to waste time building another fire and then burying it again.”
“That’s all right,” Karanissa said. “I can warm it up.” She took the pouch and held it.
After a moment it began to steam; she ripped opened the pouch and handed a strip to Tobas.
They ate in silence while Peren took down the tent and folded it away. As he finished, Tobas remarked, “It’s too bad I hadn’t got as far as making a bottomless bag — Derithon had a spell for one in his book.”
“Well, you didn’t,” Peren said. “So you’ll have to carry half the supplies.”
“I can carry a share,” Karanissa interjected.
“All right, then, all the better; we’ll split them three ways. Let’s do that and get moving.”
Ten minutes later they were on their way south through the forest, toward the familiar path around the end of the great cliff, with Peren’s supplies divided more or less evenly. When they had walked far enough to settle into a comfortable rhythm, Tobas reminded Peren of his promise. “You said you’d tell me what happened to you these past three months,” he said.
Peren was silent, and Tobas added, “I thought you’d have rich clothes and servants by now, but that tunic you’re wearing is one of the ones you had when we met. I don’t even see your sword.”
Peren nodded. “I was robbed,” he said.
Tobas had thought that Peren had seemed more irritable, less pleasant, and even quieter than before and had suspected that he had had a hard time. “Tell me about it,” he said.
They marched on another dozen paces before Peren began. “I’m not the hunter I thought I was; after we split up, I didn’t catch much. Oh, I could hit what I aimed at — I am good with a sling — but finding anything to throw at is harder than I thought. I ate everything in my pack and only caught a couple of rabbits and once, when I was desperate, a chipmunk. I was hungry, really hungry, when I came down out of the mountains in Aigoa.”
“You did reach Aigoa, though?”
“Oh, yes. I came across cottages as soon as I was past the last of the true mountains, or maybe those hills are still mountains; I suppose it depends on how you look at it. I was past the last of the peaks that break the timber-line, put it that way.” He paused for a moment, remembering, then continued. “I was hungry. I stopped at the first cottage I found, the home of an old shepherd, and traded him a gold candlestick for a good dinner, a night’s lodging, a hearty breakfast, and some supplies to see me farther down the road. While I slept he helped himself to a few other things as well, my sword among them, but I was too weak to argue and grateful he didn’t just cut my throat and keep it all. I told myself that I would hire helpers and come back later for the rest if I needed it.”
“Did you come back?” Karanissa asked.
“No, of course not. After that I begged or stole what I needed and kept the bag hidden until I reached the trade road between Aigoa Castle and the Citadel of Amor. I found an inn and waited there until a caravan stopped in. That was, let me see, the twenty-eighth of Harvest, I think, that I reached the inn, and the last caravan of the season arrived on the third of Leafcolor. I had kept the innkeeper happy by working for my keep, cleaning stables and the like, and by showing him that jeweled box and telling him I’d pay my bill when I sold it to the traders.”
“Which box was it?” Karanissa asked, her voice wistful.
“It was made of white shell, with a gold latch and pearls at each corner.”
“Oh, well,” she said, resignedly, “I never cared for that one, anyway.”
“Just as well, lady. When the caravan arrived, I spoke to its master; he asked questions about where I had found the box and the other things I showed him, and I lied with every word I told him, I didn’t like his looks, but I was in no position to be choosy. The innkeeper wouldn’t wait much longer. The caravan master seemed to take it for granted that I had stolen it all somewhere, despite my story, but that didn’t seem to bother him much. Finally, we settled on a price, a hundred pieces of silver for everything I had left. It was easily worth twice that, I’d say, probably more, but I was in no position to bargain. So he counted out the coins, and I took them, and we went to our rooms for the night. And when I woke up, the money was gone.”
“Oh, I shouted, and I argued, and no one so much as offered a prayer of sympathy. I was just another penniless adventurer making big claims with nothing to back them up. The caravan packed up and left, saying they had a schedule to keep, and I stayed to search the inn and berate the innkeeper.”
“Finally, the man would take no more; he picked me up and threw me out onto the road, with all my belongings, in the rain. Last of all he threw a silver coin after me and told me, 'The caravan master gave me a tenth as my share; here’s a tenth of that to go away and never come back, you lying pale-skinned little thief.”
“I swore and I cursed and I called down the wrath of the gods, and then I picked myself up and ran after the caravan, determined to get my money back. I caught up to them late in the afternoon.”
“I hadn’t thought how I, a lone man, unarmed, and not in the best of health, would take my money back from the crews on a dozen wagons. I marched up as they pulled into the yard of the next inn and demanded my money, hoping to shame them into honesty; instead they called me a liar and a monster and beat me and threw me out on the road.”
“I was still lying there the next morning when they moved on; I believe they thought I was dead. I almost was, I suppose. I had more bruises than sound skin.”
“Eventually, though, I picked myself up and crawled away. No one had stopped to help me, though a dozen travelers had passed.”
Peren paused as if waiting for comment, but neither Tobas nor Karanissa could think of anything to say.
“This was in Amor,” Peren said. “I had crossed the border when I followed the caravan. Amor is said to be one of the larger of the Small Kingdoms.”
Again they walked several paces in silence before he continued. “I found a farmer who took me in, I promised to pay her when I could, but she didn’t seem very concerned about that. I stayed there for the rest of Leafcolor and into Newfrost, getting my strength back. I thought at first that I might stay there permanently; she had no husband, seemed to take an interest in me, and was comely enough. After a few sixnights, though, it was obvious that her interest had passed; once she had realized that, despite my color, I was nothing but an ordinary man, she had no more use for me. I think she had assumed I was a magician of some sort or a magician’s creation and she would be richly rewarded for helping me; when I convinced her that was not the case, she allowed me to stay, but treated me with more scorn than affection. On the tenth of Newfrost I left.”
“I had no money and nowhere to go, but Desset, that was the farmer’s name, had mentioned a great highway somewhere to the north that led around the mountains to Ethshar, so I headed north, or northwest, actually. I suppose I also hoped to come across members of that caravan so that I might somehow retrieve some of what I had lost, since the Citadel of Amor also lay to the northwest.”
“And then, on the first night I was alone again, I dreamed that I heard you calling me to come back to the castle in the mountains.”
“I thought it was just a dream, but it happened again on the next night and the next, and each time I remembered more of your message and I realized that it was magic, or I hoped it was. I had no real goal, nowhere that I had to be, so I saw no harm in returning; I had been treated better in Dwomor than in Aigoa or Amor, certainly. I had a few things Desset had given me, and I found others where I could, the thieves had never bothered
