‘By the southern route. Southwest of the Enigma. To the Black Tower.’ Her eyes filled with tears. She had been worrying over that route. Miles had died at the Black Tower.
Her weeping hid the tiny sound of those that departed. In the grayed light of dusk none had seen them come, and none saw them go.
West of Deepsoil Five, the troupe of Bondri Gesel found a trail through the Far Watchlings, called by the viggies Those Joyously Emergent. Although narrow, it was an insensitive trail, one that required little song and on which great haste might be made.
‘We were right about the Enigma,’ several members of the troupe were singing. ‘The Mad One has killed again. Lim Ferrence, honored be his name, cannot be repaid, for the Enigma has killed him. Oh, how foolish to attempt song with the Enigma.’
Bondri hissed in irritation, and their song faded away. He didn’t wish to think of the Enigma just now. If Favel were still here to sing it over with, perhaps they could have arrived at some conclusion, but this was truly a matter for the priests. He sang so, briefly, to a tinkling chorus of assent.
‘How are we sure that the Loudsinger and her child are in danger?’ caroled one of the young viggies, an attractive female whom Bondri had had his eyes on for some time as a proper trade daughter for the troupe of Chowdri, to the south.
‘The mother of Lim Ferrence was not sure,’ Bondri admitted. ‘She but suspected danger. Still, she has no eyes, and …’
‘Contradiction,’ sang the senior giligee. ‘She has eyes, oh Bondri Gesel, Wide-eared one. Her eyes are not in repair, it is true, but they could be fixed. This pouched one could fix them.’
Bondri made a small noise, indicating both consternation at being interrupted and a degree of doubt. He knew of no incident in which a giligee had worked on a Loudsinger.
‘Truly, oh Bondri Gesel. This one has taken their bodies apart many times. The mother of Lim Ferrence, honored be his name, has only a small malfunction. It could be made proper.’
The giligee had touched Lim Ferrence’s mother with its antennae. If the giligee said such a thing could be done, then it could be done. ‘Remember what you have said,’ intoned Bondri, wondering just how far a viggy could go in breaking the taboo. ‘If we do not find the child, it may be we will pay our debt in this way.’
‘I interrupted the Troupe Leader,’ chirped the giligee. ‘Please return to your song.’
‘The woman cannot see,’ Bondri warbled, this time in the conditional mode. ‘Our ancestors say of those without eyes that the spirit must see what the flesh cannot, is this not so?’
‘Verily, these are true words,’ sang the troupe.
‘So, her ears told her the man made a threat, though perhaps his words did not convey his true intention.’
‘Blasphemy,’ sighed the troupe. ‘Obscenity.’ To the viggy, words that did not convey reality were worse than no words at all. Once this tendency of the Loudsingers to sing falsehood had been determined, the taboo had been invoked. How could viggies sing with those who did not care about truth?
‘Pity them,’ intoned Bondri. ‘For they are lost in darkness of unmeaning.’ He paused, an obligatory beat, then continued, ‘So the mother of Lim Ferrence feels her son’s mate and their descendent child are in danger. She does not even know she feels it, yet her inward parts know. If such danger truly threatens and can be forefended, Prime Priest Favel’s debt is paid even though Lim Ferrence has been killed.’
There was appreciative murmuring, followed by a burst of purely recreational rejoicing. After a time, they halted for grooming and food. Bondri took advantage of the halt to peek into the pouch of the giligee who had honorably corrected him. The pink thing that squirmed there in its nest of pouch-tendrils looked very lively. The brain-bird of Prime Priest Favel was developing well.
‘We’re being followed,’ said Jamieson, getting down from his mule with an exclamation of pain and annoyance as he grabbed for one ankle. ‘Damn! I keep hitting that place.’
‘Shhh,’ said Clarin. ‘I told you last night to let me put a bandage on it.’
‘It didn’t need one.’
‘It does if you keep hitting it every time you get on and off your mule, Reb. For heaven’s sake!’
‘Oh, all right. Put some kind of a pad on it if it will make you feel better.’
‘Me? It’s you who keeps hitting it.’
‘All right,’ said Tasmin, wearily as he rolled up his bedding and inflatable mattress. ‘The two of you slash it off, will you. You say we’re being followed?’
‘I rode back and found the highest point I could, Master Ferrence, then looked along the backtrail as you suggested. They were there, all right. Six riders. The only reason I could see them is they’re coming down that long traverse along the cliff, the one we were on yesterday morning. About halfway down, the trail splits, you remember? Right there, one of them got down and snooped along the ground, obviously looking for trail signs. Then they came the way we did.’
‘Have you any idea who?’
‘Two Explorers, Master. Way out in front, as though they don’t want to associate with the ones behind.’
‘And the ones behind?’
‘Riding in couples. A man and maybe a woman, then farther back, I think two men.’
‘I don’t suppose you could see who they are?’
‘I could see the Explorers’ leathers. The woman seemed to be wearing something glittery in her hair, beads maybe. Maybe it isn’t a woman at all, but that’s the impression I got.’
‘Well, it was only a matter of time before someone came after us.’ Tasmin cursed silently, wondering who. Wondering why. Wondering how they had found this trail. The group that had pursued them originally had been easy to evade, and they
