Dantio said, “Cross to the east bank and head upstream to the junction, a bowshot or two. You’ll know the Milky by its color. Follow it upstream until you’re challenged-if you aren’t, you’ll reach High Timber itself before morning. The first password is ‘At night the gods weep blood.’ That should get you to the commander. Tell him ‘Dark eyes see farther than you can hear.’ That means you come from me.”
Hrothgat repeated the passwords. “And then tell him to shift his ass down here soonest?”
“Even faster. Tell him about Therek being dead. If they can catch Horold here and Saltaja in Tryfors, then the Stralg tyranny is ended on this Face. Remember that Horold is camped at the downstream end of the islands. We’re well upstream-we don’t want any mistakes.”
The eunuch was showing an astonishing ability to give orders to Werists, but now his eyes wandered, staring downstream again. “Even if he has seers with him…”
Orlad said, “What’s wrong?”
Dantio took a moment to answer. “I suggest you recover your palls, even if they’re not quite dry, then roll them up and hide them. Very few Witnesses have the range I do, but if Horold does have seers with him, he may ask them if there are other Werists nearby, and those stripes are distinctive. Otherwise, I still don’t think we’re in danger. They’re lighting fires, unloading supplies. No one’s scouting.”
His voice had changed, though. Fabia noticed that Horth, who could smell an untruth two menzils away, was studying Dantio narrowly. So was Benard. The disconcerting thing about Benard was that he was not scatterbrained all the time. She still dared not look at Ingeld.
Orlad nodded. “Waels, see to it. Any more, er… advice, Witness?” He actually smiled, too! Fabia thought of a flower bud opening to the sun.
“Just to remind the commander that the satrap usually travels with seers.”
“Hrothgat and Prok, proceed as instructed.”
Cloth ripped. Leaving a trail of rags behind them, two somethings plunged into the shrubbery and were gone, leaving Fabia with a vague impression of huge golden beasts running on all fours.
For a moment nobody spoke. The war had begun. By morning a major battle might be raging through this campground, and other places too. Fabia moved around the group to sit by Ingeld and offer what solace she could.
“Remember what Dantio said about Cutrath being more valuable as a hostage than a corpse. That’s still true.” It sounded weak even to her.
“But it will be much less true if my husband is killed tomorrow.”
She was as rigid as a tree trunk. Benard, who already had one arm around her, added another and pulled her into a crushing embrace, muttering lover’s comfort.
Fabia went back to sit by Horth. “Exciting enough for you, Father?”
He was frowning. “I have a strong impression of huge jaws closing while I am trapped between two of the teeth. And you beside me! I cannot imagine so many Werists spending a night here without scouring the islands in search of women to molest.”
Dantio leaned over them. “I’m sentimental, I suppose, but I’d very much like to hold a little family dinner-just the four Celebres?”
Witness Mist was many things, Fabia thought, but sentimental was not the first adjective she would apply to him. Devious, implacable, and ruthless suited him better, and mendacious just at the moment. He was certainly lying, and making little effort to hide the fact, but Ingeld and Horth would humor his fancy, and the Werists would do whatever Orlad told them.
As evening retreated into night, the four Florengians went off by themselves, carrying their meals to a far corner of the clearing. There they huddled in long grass, cross-legged and knee-to-knee. For a few moments they ate in silence.
“This is getting to be a habit,” Fabia said flippantly. “These family conferences. Last night and again now.”
Orlad said, “A lot has happened since last night. Do all families keep this busy?”
Dantio was not amused. He spoke with his mouth full. “I’m almost certain Horold does have a seer with him. I think only one, which is worrisome. She may not be able to see us, unless she’s who I think she is, in which case she has an incredible range. She won’t mention us unless he asks her, of course.”
“Why worrisome?” Fabia asked.
“Because when he leaves Kosord, he usually orders all the Maynists in town to go with him. The Mother may not obey him exactly, but she would never send less than three.”
“If he has a full hunt with him, or nearly,” Orlad said, “why should he care who else is around?”
“He won’t ask about you,” Fabia said. “He’ll ask about Ingeld. It’s Ingeld he wants.”
Dantio nodded, chewing mechanically, his mind elsewhere.
“Or me,” Benard said.
“Wait until he hears about Orlad!” She grinned at the resulting glare from her Werist brother.
It folded into one of his so-rare smiles. “Let’s tell him soon!”
“But in private.”
“Right.” The seer laid down his platter and licked his fingers. “Anyway, don’t worry about Horold yet. His hunt are minding their own business and I can keep watch on them while I talk. I’ll know if they start coming, and we’ll have time to run. In the meantime… you have all been asking me why Saltaja was so sure I was dead.”
“The Witnesses lied?” Benard asked.
“No! Maynists do not lie. We may mislead you, but we will never utter an actual untruth. I broke that rule in Tryfors, for which sin I will be expelled from the mystery and harshly punished. I’ll tell you my story, but I want you to swear never to reveal it.”
“I swear by my Lady of Art.”
“And I by holy Weru.”
Fabia could invoke any god she fancied-the Mother of Lies would not care about perjury. She briefly considered swearing by Blood and birth; death and the cold earth and decided it would be unkind. Dantio had already guessed her allegiance, but Benard would be horrified and frightened. Orlad might battleform and go for her.
“I swear by all I call holy.”
Dantio gave no sign that he noticed the ambiguity. “I was present for some of this. Tranquility herself told me more, and the rest I learned from the Wisdom after I was initiated. That is very strange-seeing yourself from the outside. Some things I cannot speak of, even yet.”
Fabia laid a hand on the cold earth for comfort. There was much more going on here than Dantio admitted. He had refused to tell this story until Horold arrived in the islands. He had Witnessed something that he was as yet unwilling to admit. Even Benard was looking suspicious.
Dantio continued, “It is known… ”
LONIA LARSDOR
was heading home one winter evening, returning from a visit to a nephew she had not seen in many years. With dusk fast fading to night and upper stories overhanging on either side, very little light reached down to the street, but this did not bother her. The bustling crowds respectfully avoided jostling soberly dressed matrons such as she.
As she was crossing High, one of the upstream islands of Skjar, she was surprised to observe a youth hurrying in her direction. He wore a long robe and a hat pulled down low on his head; he dangled a sack in one hand. Few boys his age wore anything more than a breechclout, and most would carry such a load draped over a shoulder. He had the black hair and dark skin of a Florengian, which were still extremely rare in Skjar. All those things were curious, but the most remarkable thing about Dantio Celebre was that he was scurrying along the crowded alleys of Sheeplick, almost halfway across the city from her. Very few seers in the cult could see as far as she could, but she had never in her life recognized anyone at such a distance. He must be extremely important! She recalled now that the Witnesses on duty in the palace a sixday ago had been able to locate this same stripling when
