“There are a dozen hunters, at least. You’re the only one fitting the description. Why only you?”
I shook my head at him. “I’m baffled, Ferni. If I’ve learned anything on this job, however, it’s that a workman never knows how the work looks to people who see it from the outside. We carry ghyrm. That makes us devils to some. You saw how that oasthall emptied out when I was there.”
“I imagined as much. That’s why I said I was taking you someplace safer. Everyone around here knows who you are, what you are. They’ll talk: ‘Yes, the woman was here, she went off in that direction.’ That’s why I’ve gone five directions since taking off. If anybody’s watching, we’ll hope we lost them.”
“And what is there, where we’re going?”
“A lake. A forest. A waterfall. A little inn, where the Siblinghood sends people who need a long rest. A view over the grasslands. Horses.”
“Horses?” I said doubtfully.
“Yes. The innkeeper keeps horses, for people to ride.”
“That’s new!”
“It is new, yes. Five or six years new. The Siblinghood brought in the original stock from Tercis, where they had too many. The grasslands are perfect for them. They actually eat plants the umoxen don’t like, so they fit.”
“Can I ride one?” I asked wonderingly.
“I should think so,” he said, grinning at me.
I turned from him to look out the window of the flier. Below, the grasslands extended beyond the range of vision, a wave-rippled ocean of green, blue, silver, and almost yellow, with here and there a patch of vivid red and once in a while a copse of towering trees. I felt tears in my eyes and wondered why. It came to me after a while. Death threats or no death threats, I couldn’t remember ever being this gloriously, miraculously happy.
I Am Margaret/on Fajnard
Glory, Bamber Joy, Falija, and I spent the night in the hayloft of the barn, where sheets and blankets had been laid atop the hay, and we awoke early to hear Howkel whistling as he milked Earthian goats down below. Now, where had they come from?
While combing hay out of her hair, Glory remarked, “One of the things Falija’s folks said to me was that Falija would not be safe anywhere her people were known to be or known to visit. And Howkel says her people live here, so she’s not safe here!”
“You haven’t seen fit to mention this until now,” I growled.
“I didn’t remember it until now,” Gloriana cried. “It never made any difference until now.”
We told Howkel our dilemma at the breakfast table. He thought about it for some time before saying:
“There’s a shortcut to the Thairy way-gate without going through Gibbekot country. Suppose I send a couple of the youngsters with you as guides. Good at sneakiness, youngsters. Never known one that wasn’t.”
“Send Maniacal and Mirabel,” said the Dame. “They’re sneaky, that’s certain, and the longer the journey the better.”
“Them’s the oldest,” Howkel confided. “My Dame’s purely weary of wishin’ they’d move on and set up on their own.”
“Breakfast first,” said the Dame. “Haycakes and syrup.”
Midway through breakfast, Glory leaned toward me. “Did you know your face has turned a little green?”
“Did you know all your teeth were the color of grass?” I returned, without easing my pursuit of the last of the haycake around my plate. “Mighty peculiar-looking.”
“You two stop it,” muttered Bamber. “One of you’ll say something, and the other one will pounce on it, and then no matter how high our mission, it’ll all go to nonsense.”
“Quite right,” I agreed. “Your teeth are only slightly green, Gloriana.”
“And your face hardly shows it except around your ears,” Gloriana conceded.
Maniacal and Mirabel brought a wagon around to the front of the house, one seat in front and hay deeply piled in a short wagon bed behind. The three creatures pulling the wagon were leaner and taller than umoxen, with great, muscular hind legs.
“Gnar,” said Maniacal. “Not as strong as umoxen for the long haul, but very fast when they need to be.”
“You think they’ll need to be?” asked Bamber John.
“We won’t know ’til it happens, but if it does, you just burrow down in that hay and leave the rest to Mirabel and me.”
We took the precaution of burying our packs in the hay to start with. Falija had said nothing all morning, and I didn’t like the way she looked, her eyes unfocused and the fur on her face every which way.
“Did you have bad dreams, Falija?”
Falija nodded slowly. “I think I must have. I remember running as fast as we could away from something.”
“That’s a happy thought to start the day,” I remarked, punching the hay to make a larger pillow. “Maniacal, where is this way-gate to Thairy?”
“First there’s a long stretch of grass, then a bit of forest and a little climb. Pa Howkel told us how to find it. We won’t be going near the Ghoss and Gibbekots, but we’ll likely pass a few hayfolk farms. When we do, just hide ’til we get on by.”
So the morning passed, us mostly lying on the hay, occasionally napping, sometimes burrowing while trying not to scratch or sneeze. Noon came and went, as did a good part of the food Dame Howkel had packed for us.
Late afternoon had come when Mirabel said urgently, “Get down into the hay. Somebody coming.”
We burrowed. Mirabel got into the wagon bed and carefully covered any parts we’d left showing. The wagon moved along, easily, not fast, then suddenly Maniacal let out a whoop and we began to clatter along the road at very high speed.
Mirabel leaned down and said, “Two humans in some kind of machine. Maniacal is heading for the woods.”
“I’ll bet it’s Ned and Walter,” mumbled Bamber Joy, around the wisps of hay that kept creeping into his mouth and nose. “Or somebody just like them. I need to see.”
He tunneled through
