Part 7 (1/2)

”Don't you think we had better be planning what we're going to do next?” He had drunk quite a bit of khamm.

”A little more information might help us decide,” said Stark mildly. ”In any case, we'll need warmer clothing and more provisions.”

Without noticeable enthusiasm, the Irnanese rose and fetched their cloaks and followed him into the chilly street.

Halk. Breca, who was Halk's s.h.i.+eld-mate. Gerrith. Atril and Wake, the brothers, two of Yarrod's picked men. Stark could not have asked for better. Yet they six were a small handful against the North. Not for the first time Stark considered slipping away from them to finish his journey alone and unenc.u.mbered.

He was surprised to hear Gerrith say softly, ”No. Me at least you must have with you. Perhaps the others as well, I don't know. But if you go alone, you will fail.”

”Your gift?” asked Stark, and she nodded.

”My gift. On that score it is quite clear.”

The market was roofed against snow. Doors at the entrances shut out most of the cold wind. Smoky lamps and braziers burned. Merchants sat amid their wares, and Stark noticed that few of them were of Izvand. The pale-haired warriors apparently scorned such occupation.

The market was busy. The party from Irnan wandered with the crowd, buying furs and boots and sacks of the sweet, fatty journey-cake they make in Izvand against the cold. After a while Stark found what he was looking for, the street of the chart-makers.

It was a small street, lined with alcoves where men sat hunched over their drawing tables, surrounded on three sides by honeycomb shelves stuffed with rolls of parchment. Stark went from shop to shop, emerging at last with an armload of maps.

They went back to the inn. Stark found a relatively quiet table in a corner of the common-room and spread out his purchases.

The maps were for the use of traders, and in the essentials they agreed well enough. The roads, with inns and shelter-houses marked. Modern towns like Izvand, pegs to hold the roads together where they crossed. Vestiges, here and there, of older roads leading to older cities, and most of these marked ominously with death's heads. On other matters they were vaguer. Several of them showed Worldheart, hedged about with many warnings, but each one in a different place. Others did not show it at all, merely indicating a huge area of nothing with the comforting legend Demons.

”Somewhere in here,” said Stark, setting his hand over the blank area. ”If we keep going north, sooner or later we'll find someone who knows.”

”So the maps don't help much,” said Halt.

”You haven't looked closely,” Gerrith said. ”They all show one thing, and that is that we must travel by the road as far as we can.” Her fingers flicked across the wrinkled parchment. ”Here we are blocked by the sea, and here by a mountain wall. Here again, where the land is low, are lakes and bogs.”

”All frozen now,” Halk said.

”And impa.s.sable even so. The beasts would be dead or crippled and we would be starving before a week's end.”

”Besides,” said Wake, who always spoke for the brothers, ”there is the matter of time. Irnan may already be under attack. Even if we could make it the other way, it would take too long.”

Halk looked around the table. ”You're all agreed?” They were. Halk tossed back another gla.s.s of khamm. ”Very well. Let us go by the road, and go fast.”

”That is another point,” Stark said. ”Whether to travel alone, or go with some trader. A trader's company would be safer . . .”

”If you could trust the trader.”

”. . . but we would be held to the wagon pace.”

”We didn't make this journey to be safe,” said Halk.

”For once, I agree with you,” Stark said. ”By the road, then, and alone.” The others voiced a.s.sent. Stark bent over the maps again. ”I'd give much to know where the Wandsmen's road runs.”

”Not on these maps,” said Gerrith. ”They must go up from Skeg to the east, across the desert. There would be post-houses and wells, everything to get them quickly on their way.”

”And safeguards, doubtless, to make sure that no one can follow them.” Stark began rolling up the parchments. ”We'll leave at the fourth hour. Best get some sleep.”

”Not yet a few moments,” said Breca, and nodded toward the inn door.

Kazimni had just entered, in company with a lean brown man in a furred cloak who moved with the agile, hungry, questing gait of a wolverine. Kazimni saw them, and the two came toward their table.

”I'll talk,” said Stark quietly. ”No comment, no matter what I say.”

Kazimni hailed them with great cheer. ”Greetings, friends! Here is one you will be glad to meet.” He introduced his companion. ”Amnir of Komrey.” The man in the furred cloak bowed. His eyes, gleaming like brown beryls, darted from one face to another. His mouth smiled. ”Amnir trades far into the darklands. He thinks he can be of help to you.”

Stark invited the men to sit and introduced his party. The merchant ordered a round of khamm for all.

”Kazimni tells me that you have an errand northward,” he said, when the gla.s.ses had arrived and the ceremonial first sip was taken. ”What I think of the wisdom of that errand is neither here nor there.” He glanced at the heap of parchments on the table. ”I see you have bought maps.”

”Yes.”

”You were, perhaps, thinking of going on alone?”

”Hazardous, we know,” said Stark. ”Nevertheless, our errand is urgent.”

”Better to make haste slowly than not at all,” said Amnir sententiously. ”There are wicked men in the Barrens. You can't know how wicked. Six of you-and all stout fighters, I'm sure-would be as nothing against those you will meet along the road.”

”What would they want with us?” Stark asked. ”We have nothing worth the stealing.”

”You have yourselves,” said Amnir. ”Your bodies. Your strength.” He bowed to the ladies. ”Your beauty. Men and women are sold in the Barrens, for many purposes.”

Halk said, ”I think anyone who tried that would find us a poor bargain.”

”No doubt. But why take the risk? If you're captured, or killed resisting capture, where is your errand then?” He leaned forward over the table. Sincerity shone within him. ”I trade farther into the darklands than anyone because I am able to face the dangers there not only with courage, which many others have as well, but with prudence, which many others seem to lack. I travel with fifty well-armed men. Why not share that safety?”

Stark frowned, as though pondering. Halk seemed on the point of saying something, and Breca gave him a warning glare.

”All he says is true,” Kazimni said. ”By Old Sun, I swear it.”

”The time, though.” Stark shook his head. ”Alone, we can move much faster.”

”For a while,” Amnir agreed. ”And then-” He made a chopping gesture with the edge of his hand against his neck. ”Besides, I'm no laggard, I can't afford to be. You'd not be losing much.”

”When do you leave?”

”In the morning, before first light.”

Again Stark seemed to ponder. ”What price would you want?”

”No price. You'd find your own food and mounts, of course, and if we should be attacked you'd be expected to fight. That's all.”

”What could be fairer?” asked Kazimni. ”And look, if the pace proves to be too slow, you can always leave the wagons. Is that not so, Amnir?”