“How do they conquer, then, if they cannot come ashore?”
He pulled off his helmet, scratched his head, and said with great sadness, “By corrupting land dwellers is how. It’s said they’ve bought allies from among us earth walkers, mercenaries from the Copf Islands and from Marshurland to the far south. It’s they who take the land and then sit on it, preventing the former occupants from coming back.”
Bartelmy and Abasio talked a bit more about this supposed conquest and occupation, finally arriving at the critical question. “How far from here to the abbey?”
“Wilderbrook Abbey? Well, for the next few days’ travel, you’ve got the road winding back and forth up the cliff. It’s a steep climb; the valley’s over a mile above us, and your animals can’t go far in a day hauling wagons. There’s a dozen villages of refugees along the road between here and the top of the falls, plus more hanging in caves on the cliff, like bats. Say three or four days up the road to the top, depending on how strong your animals, how heavy your wagons, and how much the residents delay you. The falls have eaten their way deep into the cliff, into a kind of slot no wider than the falls themselves, so you’ll not see them until you get there, but if the mist breaks for you, you’ll see a wonder.
“Then, when you turn east once more, there’s a few days’ easy travel through the Lake Country—it’s been dry lately, so the road is good and there’ll be no swamps to deal with. In wet years, that valley’s like an extension of the Dragdown Swamps. Then you’ll come to Benjobz—that’s his name, Benjobz, like it’s King Gahls, even though there’s only one of each of ’em—next to Benjobz Pond, where the Wells comes down from the highland to the north and the Wilderbrook runs in from the south. For five generations there’s been a Benjobz running an inn there, where the Wilderoad comes in from the south. That’s the road you’ll take to get to the abbey. It’s steep in places. I’d say you have twelve to fourteen days’ travel from here, depending.”
“On?”
“Like I said, depending on animals, weight, and whether the refugees slow you down, or whether it pours rain and the Lake Country turns into swamps. In real wet years, the Dragdown Swamps include the whole valley of the Wells and all the western slope of the mountains east of Altamont. When the slope and valley are full of swamp, travelers to Lake of the Clouds have to ride far west, high along the edges of the woods, and travel there is more difficult and more dangerous. Them’s wild woods, with wilder creatures in ’em . . .”
“What sort of wilder creatures?” asked Abasio.
“I’ve heard some talk of new kinds of snakes, big ones. Then there’s boars, always more willin’ to attack than discuss the matter sensibly. Nothin’ worse than you’ve seen before, just keep an eye out. Then, too, if you decide to visit the court, that’d take you extra time. It’s not somethin’ I’d recommend, by the by.”
“Why not visit the court?” Xulai asked. “Is it very grand?”
“Not that, little missy, no. Just that it’s been somewhat dangerous for a good while. Old friends falling out of favor. People being accused of treachery or worse.”
“Worse?” Bartelmy’s eyebrows rose into his hair.
“Oh, people are whispering about necromancy and such. That sister of the prince, half sister I should say . . .” He leaned forward, almost whispering. “ ‘Where Alicia strolls, someone’s head rolls,’ that’s what folks are saying. Not that she’s there just now. Sometimes she’s back and forth all the time, up and down the cliff road, doing what, no one knows, but she’s stayed near Altamont more than usual lately. Longest she’s ever stayed away from court that I can remember. Her goin’ and comin’—it makes us nervous.”
“Do you have relay riders?” Bartelmy asked.
“And good horses. Prince Orez sent us fifty horses, too, bred in Vale. He said not to put our trust in the signal fires, for the clouds have been lyin’ lower of late. ‘Keep watch! Keep it well,’ that’s what he said.”
The three of them returned to camp. Xulai went to see to her animals, large and small, while considering what the sergeant had said. There was more than one way to interpret “clouds lyin’ lower of late.” It could have been a simple comment on the weather; it could have implied a specific threat; or it could have included both. Xulai asked Precious Wind and Bear what they thought about it, and she was interested to see Bear gnawing at his cheek as though to chew a hole in it, as he did when he was mightily displeased about something.
They began the next day’s journey by crossing the bridge over the Wells and beginning the gentle climb north on a narrow road carved into the west escarpment of the highlands. By noon, they were far enough north that they could see Woldsgard, a tiny toy castle perched northwest of them on the far side of the valley. Black Mike had traveled the road before, and he taught them to locate the wide spaces on the roads above them, to keep track of wagons on the road above them, and to pull into wide spaces to let downward traffic pass.
“Down traffic’s quicker,” he said. “It takes less time to let them pass and makes more sense to rest the animals that are hauling up!”
At midmorning, they came to one of the infrequent wide spots, made at some switchbacks and wherever the cliff wall was slightly less steep, and Bartelmy, seeing wagons not far uphill from them, signaled a
