Children of Chaos

'Silence! He's crazy! Haven't you seen that yet? He wants you at Tryfors so he can kill you. He can and he will.'

'Why should he do that, my lord?' Orlad was distressed to hear his own unworthy suspicions confirmed.

'You heard those men over there and what they think of your countrymen—all Florengians are oath-breakers. Therek blames you for his sons' deaths.'

'I am not an oath-breaker!' If Horoldson had used that word, he would be a wreck by now.

'How will you prove it to a raving maniac?'

'I will obey without hesitation,' Orlad said proudly, 'as I swore to do. If he orders me to lay my head on the block, I will. I hope that will convince him of his error.'

'You are madder than he is. Suppose he runs you for his hunt instead?'

'Then I will die. But I will not break my oath!'

Heth snorted and stalked away.

Dividing a mammoth herd was normally impossible. Fortunately, Tiny, the reigning male of the third train, was elderly and tolerant and disliked the eldest of his harem, Outhouse, who was past breeding age. But he did like Oberdar, who was an extremely competent Nastrarian, so he pretended not to notice when she rode Outhouse away. Oberdar and Outhouse gave Orlad a ride down the Tryfors road to the point where snow changed to slush. They left him within sight of the river and the town.

thirty-five

BENARD CELEBRE

had never owned a sundial. He ate when he was hungry and slept when he was tired—unless he happened to be working on something interesting, in which case he forgot to eat at all and slept when he fell over. He had no idea how many days had passed since he left Kosord with Ingeld. They had gone by like swallows in fly time. He had watched the land and sky change, the trees don copper and bronze raiment and then strip naked. He had seen the harvest gathered. He spent his days just being with her and his nights sharing her bedroll; he would be content for the world to stay like that forever. Alas, the gods insist on change.

The idyll was over. The world had soured to uniform gray and tasseled rain clouds brushed the hills. That drab- looking town on the bluff ahead was Tryfors. Captain Bro eased Ucr Blessed through the maze of narrow channels and banks of shingle that were all that was left of the mighty Wrogg. The crew was helping the boat along with poles, but Benard's offers to help had been refused with the polite explanation that this was skilled work and he might put them aground.

He liked the peculiar riverfolk, with their carefree ways, their incomprehensible jabber, and monosyllabic names—Bro, Ma, Thu, and so on. They had guessed right away who Ingeld was, for Daughters were distinctive and never normally had reason to desert their sacred hearths. Since she was obviously not a new initiate leaving to take up her lifetime duties somewhere else, and since her young male companion displayed affection more extravagantly than a son would, she could only be the dynast of Kosord herself eloping with a lover. Although riverfolk were notoriously avaricious, Bro and her crew had stayed true to their agreement with Guthlag, ignoring the opportunities for blackmail or betrayal.

'We've arrived,' Ingeld said. 'What are you going to do now, love?' The passengers were huddled together on a thwart, shivering in voluminous cowled cloaks of oiled wool. The rain had started again.

'What do you want me to do?'

'You decide.'

He eyed her skeptically around the edge of his hood. 'You've ruled a great city since before I was born. Stop pretending to be a humble little peasant wife.'

She chuckled contentedly. 'You obviously don't know peasant wives. I love it. I have shed all my cares except Oliva on to your shoulders. For the first time in my life I have a man I can love and trust and lean on. Fear the day I start giving orders again, Master Celebre! Besides, I gave you very clear orders last night.'

Those had concerned certain procedures best not discussed in public.

'I've never been responsible for anyone except myself before.'

'Good practice for you.'

'Rent another boat above the rapids and sail on?' Benard suggested hopefully.

'No. Oliva has had quite enough of boats.'

The first time Ingeld had admitted to nausea Benard had flown into a panic and talked wildly of finding a Healer. The riverfolk had leered knowingly. Now he kept his worries to himself.

'How long before Saltaja arrives?'

'I don't know,' Ingeld said. 'Soon, I think. And Horold close behind her.'

She saw them in the campfire every night.

'I suppose you want to investigate that clue the seer gave me, whatever it was?'

'Sixty Ways. Doesn't that sound like a brothel, Pack-leader?'

'It does, my lady,' Guthlag said.

'That would not have been my first choice for a refuge.' Ingeld's eyes twinkled. 'On the other hand, it may be an interesting experience. You remember the password, love?'