side and a canyon on the other. I suppose you might find another way over the moors, but it would take you days. You would need good weather; and then the patrols would see you.”
So much for her efforts to be helpful. “And there is no one in High Timber except you, Pathfinder, who can guide us over Varakats Pass? No merchants?”
This time it was Horth who smacked her down. “I told you the merchants have all gone seaward, dear.”
“Packed their boats and gone,” Hermesk agreed.
Fabia had her back to the door and jumped when a man moved in silently around the end of her bench. He was a brass-collared, pall-wrapped Werist, but a Florengian. He sat down beside Orlad.
“Any luck?” Orlad asked.
The newcomer shook his head.
Then came the shock of recognition. Waels had a whole new skin. His birthmark had gone. His close-cropped beard and hair were jet black.
“Have you been dyeing yourself, my lord?” Horth asked.
“No.” The changeling beamed. “Aren’t I beautiful? Orlad thinks I am, don’t you?” He flinched at Orlad’s glare and muttered, “My lord is kind.”
There were a lot of emotional breezes eddying around this evening.
“How did you do that?” Fabia demanded.
“I didn’t. Benard did.”
“Should have guessed!” Nobody produced random miracles as casually as Benard seemed to.
Dantio had been leaning forearms on knees, glumly staring at the ground. Now he looked up. “Our brother is on his way here from the bathhouse, with six angry Heroes in pursuit.”
Waels laughed. “All still the same pretty pink?”
“But with mud in their hair. Ah! Lady Ingeld!”
All the men rose and bowed to the Daughter. Even the Pathfinder did. She was introduced to him and chose a nearby bench to share with her usual shadow, old Packleader Guthlag.
Fabia asked, “Is Benard completely recovered, my lady?”
“Yes, thank holy Sinura! He is still badly bruised. The Healers admit that they did not think their goddess would save him. Witness Tranquility is resting, but insists that she feels no ill effects.”
“And you are planning to return to Kosord?”
Ingeld smiled wistfully. “I have no choice, my dear! I must go home, just as you must follow your destiny and head for Celebre. And Benard will not abandon his unborn daughter.”
“Will not abandon you, you mean. I have rarely seen a man so in love.”
Dantio rose and stepped over to Fabia, holding out a hand. Puzzled, she responded. He merely touched her fingers, went to Orlad, repeated the gesture; then resumed his seat. “There is something you should know, both of you. You will respect our confidence, Master Pathfinder?”
“You wish me to leave?” Hermesk asked stiffly.
“No, I rely on you to be discreet.” Dantio looked around the group. “I congratulated Benard on his recovery tonight, just before Orlad’s horde carried him off to the bathhouse. When I hugged him, I learned that he has lost his seasoning. I don’t know when the change happened, but I suspect it was when he snared Horold. Or it may have been in the bathhouse with Waels. He still had it when we left Tryfors.”
There was a puzzled pause until Ingeld appointed herself spokesperson.
“What does it mean, though?”
“I don’t know,” the seer said. “I honestly do not know. Seasoning is very rare, very mysterious. I think it means that Benard has done everything he ever can to change the world. He had his chance at glory and he took it. I don’t think it means he is about to die.” He shrugged. “But even that I don’t know. Seers do not prophesy. Orlad and Fabia still have theirs.”
“And you?” Orlad barked.
“I can’t taste my own flavor, brother.”
“So what does Witness Tranquility say?” Waels asked softly.
Dantio’s chuckle sounded forced. “A Werist with brains is against nature! Yes, mine has gone also. It’s up to Orlad and Fabia from now on. Ah, listen!”
Orlad frowned suspiciously. “Cheering?”
“Certainly cheering! Two runners arrived in town a little while ago, probably from Arbanerik. They reported to Huntleader Nils and he went over to Revengers’ Mess, where the remains of the celebration is collapsing into a collective stupor. Whatever his news is, they have stopped heaving long enough to cheer it.”
“You could hear what he said, couldn’t you?”
The seer smiled. “Well, yes, but I’ll let him tell you. He’s on his way. Have you met him yet, Fabia?”
She shook her head.
“Nils Thranson and Hordeleader Arbanerik are lifelong friends. They trained together, were initiated together, crossed the Edge in the same summer. They were even disabled the same day, in the ambush at Merilan, which was the Mutineer’s first big victory. Arbanerik’s arm was torn off, and Nils lost half his face. Orlad will tell you that one-eyed Werists and one-armed Werists are equally useless. Both men were invalided back to Vigaelia. They founded New Dawn together. And here comes our sculptor. No more miracles, brother?”
Benard loomed in from the gathering dusk and went straight to Ingeld’s side. He was soaking wet and scowling ferociously.
“No! They wouldn’t believe me when I said I didn’t do anything to Waels, the goddess did it, and all I could ever do was ask, and he was special. They made me ask Her for each and every one of them!”
“Why is Waels special?” Fabia asked.
“Ask him. Or ask Orlad. Stupid, bone-headed…” Benard’s growl faded into angry muttering as the rest of Orlad’s men trooped in. They were all still Vigaelian pink, apparently unhappily so.
Before anyone else could speak, Dantio warned: “Nils is here.”
The current ruler of High Timber was small for a Hero, and younger than Fabia had expected, no more than middle twenties. He wore a two-colored pall and a curiously tied head scarf, one end draped down the left side of his face and tucked into his brass collar. He marched straight to the hearth and turned to survey the group with a menacing one-eyed stare. Knowing or guessing who everyone was, he dispensed with formal introductions.
“Heroes… Daughter Ingeld… Ucrist Horth… Herm…” He nodded to each in turn, ending with Fabia. The half- face smiled. “The news is good, as you probably heard. Tryfors has fallen. The Hordeleader confirms that Satrap Therek is dead, as you already knew. His successor, Huntleader Karrthin, has sworn allegiance to New Dawn. There was almost no bloodshed at all at Tryfors.”
Orlad’s Heroes raised a cheer, but it sounded halfhearted. Bloodless victories were in poor taste.
“Saltaja?” Fabia asked.
The solitary eye swung around to regard her coldly. “Escaped. Yesterday she fled upcountry with Huntleader Fellard and the Fist’s Own. By now she is almost certainly at Nardalborg. Two of our hunts, the Fangs and Weru’s Sons, set off in pursuit. At Halfway Hall they met considerable resistance from Fellard and his men. Heavy losses on both sides.” No cheers. “The hordeleader feels no great urgency about this. He can starve Nardalborg into submission if necessary. If the woman escapes over the Edge, she will no longer be our problem.”
But she would certainly be a problem for Florengia and Celebre. Fabia opened her mouth and Horth laid a warning hand on her arm. She closed it again-Orlad was watching them suspiciously.
Nils Thranson said, “So the Hragson tyranny has collapsed, and much of the credit goes to the sons of Celebre gathered here. Witness Mist has been a tireless supporter of our efforts for years. Flankleader Orlad and his Heroes disposed of Therek Hragson by seizing a god-given opportunity with commendable courage and resolution. Hand Benard displayed incredible, legendary courage when he led Horold Hragson into our ambush.”
Pause for more cheering. Benard looked bashful. Ingeld kissed him.
“For the first time,” the hostleader said, “I am free to acknowledge the vital contribution of Ucrist Horth, who unstintingly financed our revolution. Without his gold and his courage, there would have been no New Dawn.”
Gasps of surprise turning into wild cheering. Horth smiled shyly. Fabia hugged him; others flocked over to shake his hand.
When order had been restored, the huntleader said, “Now we must consider the future and your rewards. Hordeleader Arbanerik has ordered me to extend any assistance within my power. At Daughter Ingeld’s request I
