Part 1 (2/2)
Rone laughed. ”Now what do you know about the walkers, tiger?” It was his pet name for Jair.
”As much as you, I'd guess. We hear the same stories in the Vale that you hear in the highlands,” the Valeman replied. ”Black walkers, Mord Wraiths-things that steal out of the dark.They talk about it down at the inn all the time.”
Brin glanced at her brother reprovingly. ”That's all they are, too-just stories.”
Jair looked at Rone. ”What do you think?”
To Brin's surprise, the highlander shrugged. ”Maybe. Maybe not.”
She was suddenly angry. ”Rone, there have been stories like this ever since the Warlock Lord was destroyed, and none of them has ever contained a word of truth. Why would it be any different this time?”
”I don't know that it would. I just believe in being careful. Remember, they didn't believe the stories of the Skull Bearers in Shea Ohmsford's time either-until it was too late.”
”That's why I think we ought to have a look around,” Jair repeated.
”For what purpose exactly?” Brin pressed, her voice hardening. ”On the chance that we might find something as dangerous as these things are supposed to be? What would you do then-call on the wishsong?”
Jair flushed. ”If I had to, I would. I could use the magic...”
She cut him short. ”The magic is nothing to play around with, Jair. How many times do I have to tell you that?”
”I just said that...”
”I know what you said. You think that the wishsong can do anything for you and you're sadly mistaken. You had better pay attention to what father says about not using the magic.
Someday, it's going to get you into a lot of trouble.”
Her brother stared at her. ”What are you so angry about?”
She was angry, she realized, and it was serving no purpose. ”I'm sorry,” she apologized. ”I made mother a promise that neither of us would use the wishsong while she and father were away on this trip. I suppose that's why it upsets me to hear you talking about tracking Mord Wraiths.”
Now there was a hint of anger in Jair's blue eyes. ”Who gave you the right to make a promise like that for me, Brin?”
”No one, I suppose, but mother...”
”Mother doesn't understand...”
”Hold on, for cat's sake!” Rone Leah held up his hands imploringly. ”Arguments like this make me glad that I'm staying down at the inn and not up at the house with you two. Now let's forget all this and get back to the original subject. Do we go fis.h.i.+ng tomorrow or not?”
”We go fis.h.i.+ng,” Jair voted.
”We go fis.h.i.+ng,” Brin agreed. ”After we finish at least some of the repairs.”
They walked in silence for a time, Brin still brooding over what she viewed as Jair's increasing infatuation with the uses of the wishsong. Her mother was right; Jair practiced using the magic whenever he got the chance. He saw less danger in its use than Brin did because it worked differently for him. For Brin, the wishsong altered appearance and behavior in fact, but for Jair it was only an illusion. When he used the magic, things only seemed to happen. That gave him greater lat.i.tude in its use and encouraged experimentation. He did it in secret, but he did it nevertheless. Even Brin wasn't entirely sure what he had learned to do with it.
Afternoon faded altogether and evening settled in. A full moon hung above the eastern horizon like a white beacon, and stars began to wink into view. With the coming of night, the air began to cool rapidly, and the smells of the forest turned crisp and heavy with the fragrance of drying leaves. All about rose the hum of insects and night birds.”I think we should fish the Rappahalladran,” Jair announced suddenly.
No one said anything for a moment. ”I don't know,” Rone answered finally. ”We could fish the ponds in the Vale just as well.”
Brin glanced over at the highlander quizzically. He sounded worried.
”Not for brook trout,” Jair insisted. ”Besides, I want to camp out in the Duln for a night or two.”
”We could do that in the Vale.”
”The Vale is practically the same as the backyard,” Jair pointed out, growing a bit irritated. ”At least the Duln has a few places we haven't explored before. What are you frightened about?”
”I'm not frightened of anything,” the highlander replied defensively. ”I just think...Look, why don't we talk about this later. Let me tell you what happened to me on the way out here. I almost managed to get myself lost. There was this wolfdog...”
Brin dropped back a pace as they talked, letting them walk on ahead. She was still puzzled by Rone's unexpected reluctance to make even a short camping trip into the Duln-a trip they had all made dozens of times before. Was there something beyond the Vale of which they need be frightened? She frowned, remembering the concern voiced by her mother. Now it was Rone as well. The highlander had not been as quick as she to discount as rumors those stories of the Mord Wraiths. In fact, he had been unusually restrained. Normally, Rone would have laughed such stories off as so much nonsense, just as she had done. Why hadn't he done so this time? It was possible, she realized, that he had some cause to believe it wasn't a laughing matter.
Half an hour pa.s.sed, and the lights of the village began to appear through the forest trees.
It was dark now, and they picked their way along the path with the aid of the moon's bright light.
The trail dipped downward into the sheltered hollow where the village proper sat, broadening as it went from a footpath to a roadway. Houses appeared; from within, the sound of voices could be heard. Brin felt the first hint of weariness slip over her. It would be good to crawl into the comfort of her bed and give herself over to a good night's sleep.
They walked down through the center of Shady Vale, pa.s.sing by the old inn that had been owned and managed by the Ohmsford family for so many generations past. The Ohmsfords still owned the establishment, but no longer lived there-not since the pa.s.sing of Shea and Flick.
Friends of the family managed the inn these days, sharing the earnings and expenses with Brin's parents. Her father had never really been comfortable living at the inn, Brin knew, feeling no real connection with its business, preferring his own life as a Healer to that of innkeeper. Only Jair showed any real interest in the happenings of the inn and that was because he liked to go down to listen to the tales carried to Shady Vale by travelers pa.s.sing through-tales filled with adventure enough to satisfy the spirit of the restless Valeman.
The inn was busy this night, its broad double-doors flung open, the lights within falling over tables and a long bar crowded with travelers and village folk, laughing and joking and pa.s.sing the cool autumn evening with a gla.s.s or two of ale. Rone grinned over his shoulder at Brin and shook his head. No one was anxious for this day to end.
Moments later, they reached the Ohmsford home, a stone and mortar cottage set back within the trees on a small knoll. They were halfway up the cobblestone walk that ran through a series of hedgerows and flowering plum to the front door when Brin brought them to a sudden halt.
There was a light in the window of the front room.”Did either of you leave a lamp burning when we left this morning?” she asked quietly, already knowing the answer. Both shook their heads.
”Maybe someone stopped in for a visit,” Rone suggested.
Brin looked at him. ”The house was locked.”
They stared at each other wordlessly for a moment, a vague sense of uneasiness starting to take hold. Jair, however, was feeling none of it.
”Well, let's go on in and see who's there,” he declared and started forward.
Rone put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back. ”Just a moment, tiger. Let's not be too hasty.”
Jair pulled free, glanced again at the light, then looked back at Rone. ”Who do you think's waiting in there-one of the walkers?”
”Will you stop that nonsense!” Brin ordered sharply.
Jair smirked. ”That's who you think it is, don't you? One of the walkers, come to steal us away!”
”Good of them to put a light on for us,” Rone commented dryly.
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