“What’s the meaning of this?” he demanded.
Balif was lying on his bed, a linen blanket up to his neck. He pushed up on one elbow but did not stand. Treskan held a lamp and Artyrith a sword just a few steps behind the majordomo.
“One of those creatures was at my door!” Mathi gasped. In a trice Lofotan and Artyrith were in the hall, checking both directions. Balif rose and donned a light robe. He was unarmed.
“Where did it go?” said the cook.
“I don’t know.” Mathi described her strange encounter. Artyrith relaxed his ready stance.
“You woke us because you had a nightmare? The one we slew in the grassland is still in your mind.”
“No, it was real. I was awake, writing, and I heard something in the corridor-”
Lofotan went down to Mathi’s room. The door was standing open. There was no sign of any intruder.
“If there was anyone, they’re gone now,” he said.
“How could a beast like that get into Free Winds?” added Artyrith.
“It’s most unlikely,” Balif agreed. “I think my daughter has been awake too long. Sleep, Mathi. We leave early on the morrow.”
Mathi watched her companions return to their room. Only when they were gone did she reenter her room. She was just closing the door when she saw the scratches. Deep, parallel lines scored the dark wood just above the floor. There were four distinct lines, as far apart as fingers.
CHAPTER 9
The next day dawned gray and windy. Wrapped in cloaks, Balif’s party led their horses off the crane platform. Artyrith and Treskan held the reins while Balif and Lofotan removed the last of their baggage from the crane and restored it to the packhorses.
Governor Dolanath sent his best wishes but did not turn up to see his visitors off. Fresh outrages had occurred during the night. Several healers in Free Winds complained that their shops were broken into, all from skylights or roof vents. Valuable drugs and healing instruments were scattered around, but little or nothing was taken. Even stranger were the reports of a large, wild animal loose in the streets adjoining the citadel. Guards on duty and late-night revelers had all seen a sizable beast prowling the darkest alleys. It fled on approach despite its size, but no one was able to corner it. Like the healers’ break-ins, the incidents caused no harm but sent waves of unrest through the provincial town. It was as if the walls of the fortress were a sieve through which danger passed at will. Balif and his companions heard the tales as they prepared to go. Mathi said nothing about the beast reports, but descriptions of the creature sounded exactly like what she saw in the passage outside her room.
“Don’t mention it to Dolanath,” Balif had told her. “He isn’t long for his seat anyway, and a report like yours will hasten his departure.” A governor who couldn’t keep the Speaker’s peace and enforce the Speaker’s laws could not expect to retain his post.
Mathi gladly stayed mum. She was sure the disturbance of the healers was Rufe’s doing. As for the creature inside the fort, she decided it was a rogue member of her unhappy clan. They were all set upon Balif’s trail. Urnya had lost her ability to think when she reverted to her animal form. She attacked the first elves she came across, not knowing Mathi was a sister under the skin. The male creature, whom Mathi did not recognize, had entered Free Winds. He had enough mind left to hear Mathi and obey, but for how long?
The ground where the crane landed was worn down to dirt. Mathi shielded her eyes as the wind stirred up the soil. Balif mounted his horse.
“Say farewell to Free Winds,” he said. “We shan’t see civilization again for some time.”
Artyrith laughed shortly. “Civilization? This rock pile?”
As they rode down the hill, Mathi wondered about her little hireling. She had seen no sign of Rufe all morning. The little man had agreed to work for her, but Mathi couldn’t see how Rufe could do any work if he wasn’t with them. She had figured out a complete explanation for if Balif found the little man. But it appeared Rufe had reneged on their deal.
On level ground the wind scoured them, bowing the knee-high grass until the gray underside of each leaf showed. The effect was eerie. A vast plain of grass, normally green and alluring, had become a gray, wind-tossed sea. The horses kept their heads down. So did the riders.
Consulting his sunstone, Balif set out northeast. The great bend of the Thon-Tanjan lay in that direction, but there was nothing in the way of settlements. Other elven strongholds, such as Tanjanost or Greenfield, lay farther south. Having encountered a small sample of what contact with the little folk could do to a stable garrison, the general decided to forgo visits to the other outposts and seek the invaders as directly as possible. Balif’s stated intent was to cross the Tanjan at Savage Ford, just below the fork in the river where the Plains River joined the Tanjan. Fords were few on the fast-flowing river. Once across the river, they would bear south into the largely unmapped forest surrounding the Tanjan river delta. After quartering the countryside there, the elves would make their way back to Silvanost along the coast.
They rode in and out of noisy squalls. Warm rain, almost oily in its feeling, quickly soaked their cloaks and seeped through to their robes underneath. The unhappy sequence went on most of the day. By midafternoon, the rain was gone but the wind remained.
Lofotan, riding point while Balif dictated some observations about the land to Treskan, found it first. The endless grass ceased. Cutting across their line of march was a path so wide and so thoroughly trampled that the tough turf was worn down to bare soil.
“Here! To me!” Lofotan called. The others cantered to his side.
Balif twisted in the saddle, taking in the road. It ran northwest to southeast, disappearing in one direction under a hill and curving out of sight in the other. He rode across it slowly. His horse took twelve steps to cover the path from side to side.
“What does it mean?” Artyrith asked.
“A lot of feet have passed this way,” Lofotan answered grimly. “Feet, hooves, and more.”
“Human feet?”
The old soldier didn’t reply. Balif came slowly back. Wind whirled eddies of dust around his horse.
“The Speaker is only partly informed,” he said. “There is a migration under way, but it isn’t new. This path took months to make.”
Far to the northwest lay more plains, then the Khalkist Mountains. Beyond them was the great savannah, home to thousands of rapacious human nomads. Evidently large numbers of nomads had been coming that way undetected for some time. It was astonishing, finding a trail so large only a hundred and fifty miles from Silvanost. The Speaker had to know, as soon as possible.
Sighting down the center of the road with his stone, Balif concluded it ran more or less directly to Horseriders’ Ford, an easier crossing than Savage Ford, but farther away. That made sense. By sticking to a single path on the open plain, the invaders had avoided detection-until Balif’s party came along.
“Lofotan, I want you to return to Free Winds,” Balif said. News of the interlopers’ trail had to reach Governor Dolanath right away. He lacked the troops to close the road, but he could carry word to Silvanost. It would take an army to stop the flow of humans into the elves’ eastern lands.
Using Mathi as a shield against the wind, Balif composed a terse message to the governor. Lofotan slipped it inside his cloak and saluted his commander.
“Don’t wait for a reply,” Balif told him. “Put the note in the governor’s hands, and return at once. We will rendezvous at Savage Ford in ten days.”
“I can make it in six,” Lofotan declared.
“So you could, with clear days and an open path, but there is more afoot out here than just a well-worn road. Ten days, Captain. If by the eleventh day you have not seen us, go back to Silvanost. Lay what we have found before the Speaker of the Stars.”
Mathi felt oddly sad watching the dour Lofotan ride away. He was not a noble sort, as was Balif, or amusing, as was Artyrith, or useful, as was Treskan. But Mathi did respect him, even though his absence would make her
