‘I don’t know why not,’ said Gaffer. ‘We will teach you on the way.’
So the decision was made. When they left the clearing in the morning hours, the loom parts were wrapped in carpet on the back of Thewson’s horse, and one of the little people rode before each of the others. For the first time, Tin-tan trotted along behind them on his own four feet beside his foster mother, the goat.
They passed by the village of Lau-Bom, crossed an expanse of grassland throughout the afternoon to come by evening to one of the forested mounds which were scattered across the Rochagam, the trees ending at its edges as though trimmed with a knife. Here they made camp beside a bubbling spring, Daingol and Dhariat preparing a meal while the others busied themselves. Po-Bee and Doh-ti played at dice with Gaffer, one very bad throw bringing remonstration from Po-Bee.
‘Pray to Peroval to forgive you,’ he said sententiously to Doh-ti. ‘It is not stiffness from riding but lack of practice which makes you fumble the dice.’
‘Peroval?’ asked Jasmine who had not heard the name before.
‘The small god of cheats and tricksters,’ said Po-Bee. ‘A small god for the small business of small people. Yet no god is more friendly or joyous than Peroval when he is pleased.’
‘What Power does he work for?’ asked Jasmine.
The two considered this. ‘It would have to be Firelord,’ Po-Bee ventured. ‘Firelord is the only one with a sense of humour. Peroval wouldn’t work for anyone without a sense of humour.’
‘Our Lady has a sense of humour,’ objected Jasmine. ‘It is written in many of the songs that she laughs at the things we do.’
‘That is only mockery, not humour. Humour isn’t “at.” Can you imagine telling a bawdy joke to the Lady?’
‘Yes,’ rumbled Thewson. ‘She is well pleased with those.’
‘Thewson,’ Jasmine admonished. ‘How can you say that?’
‘Because I so remember.’ He sat for a long time trying to rerrjember how he knew such a thing, but except for a far-off whirring, like distant laughter, nothing came to him.
Nonetheless, the thought distracted him enough that he did not set a watch during the night. Dhariat thought Thewson was watching; Thewson thought Daingol… well. There was no watch.
They woke in the morning to find Jasmine gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
LITHOS
Day 25, Month of Thaw
There was a time of stupefied confusion, which Thewson remembered later with fury, during which they were not sure she was really gone. She might have been in the bushes attending to a human need, but the wild disorder of her bedding said much against that notion. She had not lain at Thewson’s side for they had only a narrow space between the fire and the trees. Then, when Dhariat and Doh-ti found footprints, they were sure she had been taken. Thewson breathed phrase, white hot with anger. ‘Dog king.’
They sought to follow the trail but came upon rocky outcroppings where no footprints could be found. Finally Sowsie took command of their frenzied efforts.
‘This is doing no good. If she is gone but a little time, her captor may be seen crossing the grasslands. Let me take the little ones to the top of the mound to climb tall trees there from which they may see further than all this ground sniffing.’ She sent the others off to circle the mound, taking Doh-ti and Po-Bee up onto her horse and riding swiftly to the top of the mound. There she found one great tree and set Doh-ti upon a limb before spurring away to seek another. She was out of sight in moments.
Doh-ti went up the trunk like a squirrel, climbing quickly above the surrounding forest to a high, twiggy fork which gave him a virtually unobstructed view in all directions except directly north. The tree he was in was a white oak, still clad with rattling bunches of winter leaves over the swelling pink buds of spring. Thrusting them from before fiirn, he stared out over the smooth-floored plain, alert to movement of any kind. Far at the southern edge of the plain moved an awkward shape, strangely top heavy. Doh-ti nodded with satisfaction and began the long climb down only to stop and try to vanish among the rattling leaves.
Two … somethings were coming up the slope from the west, two somethings ridden by red-robed ones, hooded and gloved, one thrusting slightly ahead of the other. The animals were not horses, not anything Doh-ti had seen before. The riders were as mysterious, totally wrapped by their robes, both faces and bodies hidden as they slid clumsily from their mounts in a screening grove of trees. One came to the base of the big tree and knelt to kindle a fire. The smoke rose around Doh-ti’s head, and he fought sneezes, hiding his face in his hands. Soon steam rose with the smoke from a kettle set above the flame.
Silent as some furred tree-rat, Doh-ti eased down and around the trunk, onto a branch wider than himself, out of the hazing smoke. He peeked around the branch, alert to the sounds from below. In the thicket the animals stamped and squealed. Voices rose, and he strained to hear as the smaller of the two red robes spoke.
‘I listen to the air, Lord Protector. Across this world the servants of Gahl move south towards the centre of displeasure, toward Orena. Worms go south from the stone city. Your own creations, Lord, go south in their darkness. Our minions go in their thousands, in their hundreds of thousands.’
‘But they found nothing in the place below Gerenhodh.’ The voice was a cold one, full of brooding malevolence.
‘No, Lord Protector. It is likely there is nothing there to find. The singer came too late. They had gone.’
‘Gone. To Orena. As those others have gone.’
‘Yes. Lord.’ There was a long silence. Then the smaller one spoke again. ‘We know the world will fall into our hands, Lord, after Orena. Why, then, do so many of the black
