Alan listened intently. "Then it is not the King you must fight, but the host of quarreling lords who will try to seize the throne upon his death."

"Ay. They who are now his liegemen will turn against him in his sickness, like the wolf who rends his wounded brother. Just as he would do to them. . . . Most of the ambitious lords are clustered in the ferule south, as you know. Daronwy of Bridgewater, Mordri of the Havens, Kai Oakmaster, and of course Iscovar's puppet at Laueroc. But more are scattered all over Isle. Nabon of Lee, Guy of Gaunt-and we have had a taste of White- water's power."

"Far too much power for my taste," Alan complained.

*'How can you ever fight them all, Hal?"

"With help," answered Hal earnestly. "I have said I am a dreamer, Alan. . . . But all over Isle are people who ache to be rid of the oppressors, if only they can be brought together, and given hope." He gazed into the treetops. "I see a signal in the night. And at that signal, folk rising up silently, taking their lord's horses, his cattle and sheep, the grain in his storehouse, the gold in his treasure room, the weapons in his armory. Any of these things, if done with stealth, would greatly cripple his garrison when he awoke to hear the brazen trumpets roaring the news of the King's death. And the peasants safely away, and the lords far too busy to retaliate." He sighed and turned bis eyes back to Alan. "If only I needed no more force than that."

"Proud lords are not likely to yield without bloodshed,"

Alan stated wryly.

"I know it. Craig the Grim has great store of weapons, and the influence to muster over a thousand men, all skilled archers. I spoke with him before I left him, and surprised him little, for he, too, has his spies, and had long since guessed. Ket the Red is another one who will fight for me, I think. And if I am not mistaken, Margerie

46 THE SILVER SUN.

can be a powerful friend to us in Whitewater. The time has not yet come to tell them my need-so far, only you and Craig know of me-but they will be there when I have need of them. And others, Alan; I have heard that there are strange folk in the north. Perhaps the roving warlords of the Barrens will see fit to aid me, or I may find even better friends, fearsome friends to bring a swift peace, if my dreams lead me truly. . . ." His eyes glit- tered as he spoke, and Alan was reminded once again of his Welandais blood.

They did not turn at once to the north, however.

First they backtracked to look for Corin and the sword.

After their day of rest they left the Forest toward White- water and cast about on the Waste, searching the oc- casional small thickets they had been forced to speed past before. They found an old campsite, perhaps Corin's, but they found no other traces. Several times they sighted lordsmen in the far distance and fled northward, still on the open Waste. They spent two nervous nights on the bare, stony ground, sleeping restlessly in spite of the watchfumess of then- horses. Finally, Hal admitted tem- porary defeat.

"Those two are farther to the north now, even at a footpace," he grumbled. "And the only reason the lords- roen haven't come after us is because they can't believe we would be such fools."

They returned to the Forest for a sound night's sleep, then traveled northw&rd for a few days within its shelter.

Oak and beech trees began to give way to pine and fir.

Hal felt more secure from lordsmen now, and ready to search for Corin once more. It was reaping time at the isolated cottages of the Waste. Hal and Alan found that their help was welcomed at the hot, dusty work, and they were paid as generously as the struggling landholders could afford. But no one had any word of a blond boy or his bald, blacksmith father.

For days they traveled northward on the Waste, return- ing to the Forest only to sleep or hunt. As they went on, the holdings of cottagers grew fewer and farther between, and the land grew wilder and more lonely, until at length there came a day when they saw no living creatures ex- cept rabbits and sparrows. It was a strange land they trav- eled now, not much changed by the passing of time, for everywhere were signs of ancient dwellers-cairns, strange

The Forest 47 mounds and earthworks, and standing stones raised like monstrous fangs toward the sky. Hal's gray eyes gleamed as he regarded the great gray stones, but Alan shivered in their shadows. He was a native of the gentle green southlands, and he felt naked and exposed in this high, windy place.

"Ages ago, this was Forest," Hal said. "All of Isle was Forest, the soul and dwelling of the Lady Mother. Small dark people roamed from grassy glade to glade and fed their animals on acorn mast. But iron-armed men came, who wanted to make themselves a great nation, so they felled the trees with their iron axes and turned the ground with their iron tools, and raised great stones to their dead and their gods, and piled mounds of dirt for their timber towers, and circles of dirt for their timber battle walls. . ..

Season after season they made war, and played at love and valor. And season after season the sea winds blew, and the sea rains fell, until all the rich earth was blown and washed from the land, and only rocky waste re- mained. This was long ago, long before the invaders came from the east, long before any Kings ruled in Laueroc or Eburacon or the north. Those iron-sworded newcomers moved on to become Ac Kings we remember in legend, and the small dark folk came out of the Forest to reclaim their wasted land."

"How in the world can you know?" Alan exclaimed.

Hal could not answer. "Dreams," he said at last. "And there come some now." He pointed. "The ancient tribes of Romany."

The Gypsies flowed darkly toward them over the Waste, ragged folk and shaggy beasts all in one rippling mass.

Hal and Alan sat quietly on their horses as the band sur- rounded them. A ring of sober, dark-eyed faces looked up: solemn black-braided children in stammel frocks;

stocky ponies; old crones with tame ravens on their shoul- ders; short, frowning men with shepherd's staffs and small stone-tipped darts in hand. No one made a sound; even the sheep were silent. Alan fell his flesh crawl at the thought of a dart in his back.

"Laifrita thae, mirdas arle," Hal greeted them with curbed excitement in his voice. ["Greetings to you, people of the earth."]

The staring circle gasped, then stirred into movement and welcoming smites. A chieltain stepped forward, his 48 THE SILVER SUN.

rank marked by the broad metal collar that arced around his neck, shining like a crescent moon.

"Welcome, Mireldeyn," he said, "Welcome, Elwyndas."

They ate with the Gypsies, and shared the warmth of their campfire against the chill sea breeze. Hal spoke their strange language, and talked late into the night with the oldest men and women. Alan, who could converse with the others only in their broken dialect, was nevertheless much attended to. He was surprised to find that the Gyp- sies, horse experts that they were, had a high opinion of Alfie. "He is not handsome, nay," they agreed with him, "but he has much heart." As for Arundel, their dialect failed them, and they could only say, gesturing, that he was elwedeyn. When Alan signaled his noncomprehension, they shook their heads hopelessly, and sank back into the shelter of their dark faces around the fire.

"What are those names they called us?" Alan asked Hal in a whisper when everyone had settled for the night.

"Man-spirit, friend of the wind, some such. . . .** Hal stirred irritably. "I'm not sure."

"Never mind. What did you talk about all night?"

"They have seen a pair that I think are Corin and the smith." Hal cut short Alan's delighted response. "But we must be more careful. The talk of the Rough Road is that Lord Gar has set a fine price in gold on our heads."

After that, they kept to the Forest when they could.

But the going was hard. This rocky northern land was scarred with shelving jumbles of rock, and sometimes thick with brambles. Often they were obliged to use the Rough Road that traversed the Waste from Whitewater to Rodsen. A few times they met travelers, and inquired about Corin to no avail. Some nights they shared the fires of Gypsy bands. But the dark tribesmen had no further news of the smith and his boy.

The day after a night with the Gypsies, just after noon, Hal and Alan were startled to hear hoofbeats approaching them from behind. They took cover in a copse atop a small rise until the rider came into view. It was one of their hosts of the night before, galloping hard on his sturdy pony.

With faces full of foreboding, they rode out to meet him. He spoke rapidly to Ha! in his own language. Hal touched his hand in gesture of thanks, and the man sent his pony quickly back the way he had come. Hal spun

The Forest

49.

Arundel and set off at full speed toward the rise, with Alfie clattering after. Once over the crest, he changed direction, then pulled up behind a ridge of rock.

"Some time after we left this morning," he explained, "strangers came to the Gypsy camp, describing us and offering gold for news of us. Ten rough-looking men, mounted, with bows. Likely they are close by us, right now. The Gypsies told them nothing, of course, but if they are not fools they will have followed our friend. I hope he comes to no harm."

"Bounty hunters," muttered Alan. He felt suddenly quite uncomfortable. He was used to thinking of sword- fighting as an unavoidable part of life in these hard times.

but he did not relish the thought of ducking arrows.

"We must get to more open ground," continued Hal, "where they cannot stalk us."

They moved gently off, glancing over their shoulders.

"I fled before," Hal added, "to draw the chase on us. But it's no use running now; we could blunder straight into them. We must make them show themselves and then outrun them, if we like."

Threading their way cautiously among the rocks and thickets, they proceeded in what they hoped was the di- rection of a clearing. At last they came to a windswept space, which they carefully surveyed. Then they touched heels to the horses' sides and sped across the barren ex- panse, heading for a lonely clump of trees near the center.

To their relief, they reached it without incident.

"Therel" Hal exclaimed. "We might as well spend the afternoon here as anywhere else. Only to the south can they come near being within bowshot. They will set an ambush to the north, but they will see that we do not intend to move, and they will be forced to rush us from the south."

"They could split up," grumbled Alan. He was not nearly as well pleased as Hal with their situation.

"I think they will not. They fear our swords, and prob- ably they do not trust each other. We might as well sit down."

Arundel lifted his head and snorted at the distant thickets to the north.

"Allo," Hal told him. "Very well, Arundel. I know they are there."

Letting the horses graze, Hal and Alan sat in the shade,

50 THE SILVER SUN.