Part 5 (1/2)
”Neither did I.”
By the time the oddness of this remark sifted down through Simon's own distracted thoughts, Miriamele had rolled over, placing her back toward the fire-and toward Simon. He wanted to ask her what she meant, but sensed that she did not want to talk anymore.
Instead, he watched the fire burning low and the last few sparks fluttering upward into the darkness.
3.
Windows Like Eyes
The rams stood so close together that there was scarcely room to move between them. Binabik sang a quiet sheep-soothing song as he threaded his way in and out among the woolly obstacles. stood so close together that there was scarcely room to move between them. Binabik sang a quiet sheep-soothing song as he threaded his way in and out among the woolly obstacles.
”Sisqi,” he called. ”I need to speak to you.”
She was sitting cross-legged, retying the knots of her ram's harness. Around her several of the other troll men and women were seeing to final tasks before the prince's company resumed its march into Nabban. ”I am here,” she said.
Binabik looked around. ”Would you come with me somewhere more quiet?”
She nodded and set the harness down on the ground. ”I will.”
They snaked their way back out through the herd of jostling rams and climbed up the knoll. When they sat down in the gra.s.s the milling camp lay spread below them. The tents had been dismantled early that morning, and all that remained of what had been a small city for three days was a formless, moving ma.s.s of people and animals.
”You are fretful,” Sisqi said abruptly. ”Tell me what is wrong, beloved-although we have certainly seen enough bad fortune in the last few days to make anyone sad for a long time.”
Binabik sighed and nodded. ”That is true. The loss of Geloe is a hard one, and not only because of her wisdom. I miss her, too, Sisqi. We will not see anyone like her again.”
”But there is more,” Sisqi prompted him gently. ”I know you well, Binbiniqegabenik. Is it Simon and the princess?”
”That is the root of it. Look-I will show you something.” He pulled apart the sections of his walking stick. A long white shaft tipped with blue-gray stone slid out.
”That is Simon's arrow.” Sisqi's eyes were wide. ”The gift of the Sithi. Did he leave it behind?”
”Not on purpose, I think. I found it tangled in one of the s.h.i.+rts Gutrun made for him. He took with him little but the clothes he wore on his back, but he did take the sack that held his most treasured possessions-Jiriki's mirror, a piece of stone he brought from Haestan's cairn, other things. I believe the White Arrow must have been left by mistake. Perhaps he had taken it out for some other purpose and forgot to return it to the sack.” Binabik lifted the arrow until it caught the morning sun and gleamed. ”It reminds me of things,” he said slowly. ”It is the mark of Jiriki's debt to Simon. A debt which is no less than the one I owe, on my master Ookequk's behalf, to Doctor Morgenes.”
A sudden look of fear came to Sisqi's face, although she did her best to hide it. ”What do you mean, Binabik?”
He stared at the arrow miserably. ”Ookequk promised help to Morgenes. I took on that oath. I swore to help protect young Simon, Sisqi.”
She took his hand in hers. ”You have done that and more, Binabik. Surely you are not to guard him day and night for the rest of your life.”
”This is different.” He carefully slid the arrow back into his walking stick. ”And there is more than my debt, Sisqi. Both Simon and Miriamele are already in danger traveling alone in the wilderness, even more so if they go where I fear they do. But they are also a risk to the rest of us.”
”What do you mean?” She was having trouble keeping the pain from her words.
”If they are caught, they will eventually be taken to Pryrates, King Elias' advisor. You do not know him, Sisqi, but I do, at least from tales. He is powerful, and reckless in his use of that power. And he is cruel. He will learn from them whatever they know about us, and Simon and Miriamele both know a great deal-about our plans, about the swords, everything. And Pryrates will kill them, or at least Simon, in the getting of that knowledge.”
”So you are going to find them?” she asked slowly.
He hung his head. ”I feel I must.”
”But why you? Josua has an entire army!”
”There are reasons, my beloved. Come with me when I speak to Josua and you will hear the reasons. You should be there, in any case.”
She looked at him defiantly. ”If you go after them, then I will go with you.”
”And who will keep our people safe in a strange land?” He gestured at the trolls moving below. ”You at least speak some of the Westerling speech now. We cannot both go and leave our fellow Qanuc altogether deaf and mute.”
Tears were forming in Sisqi's eyes. ”Is there no other way?”
”I cannot think of one,” he said slowly. ”I wish I could.” His own eyes were damp as well.
”Chukku's Stones!” she swore. ”Are we to suffer everything we have suffered to be together, only to be separated again?” She squeezed his fingers tightly. ”Why are you so straight-backed and honorable, Binabik of Mintahoq? I have cursed you for it before, but never so bitterly.”
”I will come back to you. I swear, Sisqinanamook. No matter what befalls, I will come back to you.”
She leaned forward, pus.h.i.+ng her forehead against his chest, and wept. Binabik wrapped his arms around her and held tightly; tears rolled down his cheeks as well.
”If you do not come back,” she moaned, ”may you never have a moment's peace until Time is gone.”
”I will come back,” he repeated, then fell silent. They stayed that way for a long time, locked in a miserable embrace.
”I cannot say I like this idea, Binabik,” said Prince Josua. ”We can ill-afford to lose your wisdom-especially now, after Geloe's death.” The prince looked morose. ”Aedon knows what a blow that has been to us. I feel sick inside. And we have not even a body to weep over.”
”And that is as she was wis.h.i.+ng it,” Binabik said gently. ”But, speaking about your first worry, it is my thinking that we can even less be suffering the loss of your niece and Simon. I have made you know my fears about that.”
”Perhaps. But what about discovering the use of the swords? We still have much to learn.”
”I have little help left for giving to Strangyeard and Tiamak,” said the little man. ”Nearly all of Ookequk's scrolls I have already made into Westerling. Those few of them that are remaining still, Sisqi can be helping with them.” He indicated his betrothed, who sat silently beside him, her eyes red. ”And then, I must also be saying with regret, when that task is being finished she will take the remaining Qanuc and return to our people.”
Josua looked at Sisqi. ”This is another great loss.”
She bowed her head.
”But you are many now,” Binabik pointed out. ”Our people suffer, too, and these herdsmen and huntresses will be needed at Blue Mud Lake.”
”Of course,” said the prince. ”We will always be grateful that your people came to our aid. We will never forget, Binabik.” He frowned. ”So you are determined to go?”
The troll nodded. ”There are many reasons it is seeming the best course to me. It is also my fear that Miriamele hopes to get the sword Bright-Nail-perhaps with thinking she can hurry the end of this struggle. That is frightening to me, since if Count Eolair's story was true, the dwarrows have already confessed to the minions of the Storm King that Minneyar is the sword that is resting now in your father's grave.”
”Which is likely the end of our hopes, in any case,” Josua said gloomily. ”For if he knows that, why would Elias leave it there?”
”The Storm King's knowing and the knowing of your brother may not be the same thing,” Binabik observed. ”It is not an unheard-of strangeness for allies to be hiding things from each other. The Storm King may not be knowing that we also have this knowledge.” He smiled a yellow smile. ”It is a thing of great complication, is it not? Also, from the story that the old man Towser was so often telling-the story of how your brother acted when Towser was giving him the blade-it is possible that those who have the taint of Stormspike cannot bear its nearness.”