The young man caught his breath on the verge of a sob. "W-What, your Highness?"

"Go to Isgrimnur's tent and see if Binabik has returned. The troll knows something of healing. We will have him look at young Leleth."

Jeremias, only too glad to have something useful to do, hurried out.

"In truth," Josua said, "I no longer know what to think of all that has happened tonight-but I must admit that I am very fearful for Miriamele. d.a.m.n her frowardness." He clutched Vorzheva's blanket in his fingers and twisted it in frustration.

There had been no change in Leleth's condition when Jeremias returned with Binabik and Aditu. The little man inspected the girl closely.

"I have seen her being like this before," he said. "She is gone away somewhere, to the Road of Dreams or some other place."

"But surely she has never been like this for so long," Josua said. "I cannot help but think it has something to do with the night's happenings. Could the Norn poison have made her this way, Aditu?"

The Sitha kneeled beside Binabik and lifted the little girl's eyelids, then laid her slim fingers below Leleth's ear to feel how swiftly her heart beat. "I do not think so. Surely this one," she indicated Jeremias, "would also have been struck if the Kei-vishaa had spread so far."

"Her lips are moving!" Jeremias said excitedly. "Look!"

Although she still lay as if deeply asleep, Leleth's mouth was indeed opening and closing as though she would speak.

"Silence." Josua leaned closer, as did most of the others in the room.

Leleth's lips worked. A whisper of sound crept out. "... hear me hear me ..." ..."

"She said something!" Jeremias exulted, but was stilled by a look from the prince.

"... I will speak anyway. I am fading. I have only a short time left. I will speak anyway. I am fading. I have only a short time left. " The voice that issued from the little girl's mouth, though thin and breathy, had a familiar cadence. " The voice that issued from the little girl's mouth, though thin and breathy, had a familiar cadence.

"... There is more to the Norns than we suspect, I think. They play some double game... Tonight was not a feint There is more to the Norns than we suspect, I think. They play some double game... Tonight was not a feint, but something even more subtle ... but something even more subtle ..."

"What's wrong with the child?" Gutrun said nervously. "She's never spoken before-and she sounds wrong."

"That is Geloe speaking." Aditu spoke calmly, as though she identified a familiar figure coming up the road.

"What?" The d.u.c.h.ess made the Tree sign, her eyes wide with fear. "What witchcraft is this?"

The Sitha leaned close to Leleth's ear. "Geloe?" she said. "Can you hear me?"

If it was the wise woman, she did not seem to hear her friend's voice. "... Remember what Simon dreamed Remember what Simon dreamed ... ... the false messenger. the false messenger. " There was a pause. When the voice resumed it was quieter, so that all in the room held their breath in an effort not to obscure a word. "... " There was a pause. When the voice resumed it was quieter, so that all in the room held their breath in an effort not to obscure a word. "... I am dying. Leleth is here with me somehow, in this ... dark place. I have never understood her completely, and this is strangest of all. I think I can speak through her mouth, but I do not know if anyone is listening. My time is short. Remember: beware a false messenger.... " I am dying. Leleth is here with me somehow, in this ... dark place. I have never understood her completely, and this is strangest of all. I think I can speak through her mouth, but I do not know if anyone is listening. My time is short. Remember: beware a false messenger.... "

There was another long, silent interval. When everyone was certain that they had heard the last, Leleth's lips moved again. moved again. " "I am going now. Do not mourn me. I have had a long life and did what I wished to do. If you would remember me, remember that the forest was my home. See that it is respected. I will try to send Leleth back, although she does not want to leave me. Farewell. Remember... " Do not mourn me. I have had a long life and did what I wished to do. If you would remember me, remember that the forest was my home. See that it is respected. I will try to send Leleth back, although she does not want to leave me. Farewell. Remember... "

The voice faded. The little girl again lay like one dead.

Josua looked up. His eyes were bright with tears. "To the last," he said, almost in anger, "she tried to help us. Oh, G.o.d the Merciful, she was a brave soul."

"An old soul," Aditu said quietly, but did not elaborate. She seemed shaken.

Though they sat around the bedside in heavy, mournful silence for some time, Leleth did not stir any more. Geloe's absence seemed even more powerful, more devastating than it had earlier in the evening. Other eyes besides Josua's filled with tears of sorrow and fear as the realization of the company's loss settled in. The prince began to speak quietly of the forest woman, praising her bravery, wit, and kindness, but no one else seemed to have the heart to join in. At last he sent them all off to rest. Aditu, saying that she felt no need to sleep, stayed to watch over the child in case she awakened in the night. Josua lay down fully dressed beside his wife, ready for whatever calamity might befall next. Within moments, he had fallen into a deep, exhausted slumber.

In the morning, the prince awakened to discover Aditu still watching over Leleth. Wherever the child's spirit had journeyed with Geloe, it had not yet returned.

Not long afterward, Hotvig and his men rode into camp, weary and empty-handed.

2.

Ghost Moon

Simon and Miriamele rode in near-silence, the princess leading as they made their way down into the valley on the far side of the hills. After they had gone a league or more, Miriamele turned them north so that they were riding back along the same track the company had taken on its way to Gadrinsett. rode in near-silence, the princess leading as they made their way down into the valley on the far side of the hills. After they had gone a league or more, Miriamele turned them north so that they were riding back along the same track the company had taken on its way to Gadrinsett.

Simon asked her why.

"Because there are already a thousand fresh hoofprints here," Miriamele explained. "And because Josua knows where I'm going, so it would be stupid to head straight that way in case they find out we've left tonight."

"Josua knows where we're going?" Simon was disgruntled. "That's more than I do."

"I'll tell you about it when we're far enough that you can't ride back in one night," she said coolly. "When I'm too far away for them to catch me and bring me back."

She would not answer any more questions.

Simon squinted at the bits of refuse that lined the wide, muddy track. A great army of people had crossed this way twice now, along with several other smaller parties that had made their way to Sesuad'ra and New Gadrinsett; Simon thought it would be a long time before the gra.s.s grew on this desolated swath again.

I suppose that's where roads come from, he thought, and grinned despite his weariness. he thought, and grinned despite his weariness. I never thought about it before. Maybe someday it will be a real king's road, with set stones and inns and way stations... and I saw it when it was nothing but a hoof-gouged track. I never thought about it before. Maybe someday it will be a real king's road, with set stones and inns and way stations... and I saw it when it was nothing but a hoof-gouged track.

Of course, that was presuming that whatever happened in the days to come, there would be a king who cared about roads. From what Jeremias and others had told him about the state of affairs at the Hayholt, it didn't seem very likely that Elias was worrying about such things.

They rode on beside the Stefflod, which glowed silver in the moon's ghostly light. Miriamele remained uncommunicative, and it seemed to Simon that they rode for days on end, although the moon had not yet moved much past the midpoint of the sky. Bored, he watched Miriamele, admiring how her fair skin took the moonlight, until she, irritated, told him to stop staring at her. Desperate for diversion, he then considered the Canon of Knighthood and Camaris' teachings; when that failed to hold his interest for more than half a league, he quietly sang all the Jack Mundwode songs he knew. Later, after Miriamele had rebuffed several more attempts at conversation, Simon began counting the stars that dotted the sky, numerous as grains of salt spilled on an ebony tabletop.

At last, when Simon was certain that he would soon go mad-and equally certain that a full week must have pa.s.sed during this one long night-Miriamele reined up and pointed to a copse of trees standing on a low hill some three or four furlongs from the wide rut of the infant road.

"There," she said. "We'll stop there and sleep."

"I don't need to sleep yet," Simon lied. "We can ride longer if you want to."

"There's no point. I don't want to be out in the open in daylight tomorrow. Later, when we're farther away, we can ride when it's light."

Simon shrugged. "If you say so." He had wanted this adventure, if that was what it was, so he migh as well endure it as cheerfully as possible. In the first moments of their escape he had imagined-during those few brief instants in which he had allowed himself to think at all-that Miriamele would be more pleasant once the immediate worry of discovery had lessened. Instead, she had seemed to grow even more morose as the night wore on.

The trees at the top of the hill grew close together, making an almost seamless wall between their makeshift camp and the road. They did not light a fire-Simon had to admit he could see the wisdom of that-but instead shared some water and a little wine by moonlight, and gnawed on a bit of Miriamele's bread.

When they had wrapped themselves in their cloaks and were lying side by side on their bedrolls, Simon suddenly found that his weariness had fled-in fact, he did not feel the least bit sleepy. He listened, but although Miriamele's breathing was quiet and regular, she did not sound like she was sleeping either. Somewhere in the trees, a lone cricket was gently sawing away.

"Miriamele?"

"What?"

"You really should tell me where we're going. I would do better as your protector. I could think about it and make plans."

She laughed quietly. "I'm certain that's true. I will tell you, Simon. But not tonight."

He frowned as he stared up at the stars peeping through the branches. "Very well."

"You should go to sleep now. It will be harder to do once the sun is up."

Did all women have a little Rachel the Dragon in them? They certainly seemed to enjoy telling him what he should do. He opened his mouth to tell her he didn't need any rest just yet, but yawned instead.

He was trying to remember what he had meant to say even as he pa.s.sed over into sleep.

In the dream Simon stood on the edge of a great sea. Extending from the beach before him was a thin causeway of land that extended out right through the teeth of the waves, leading to an island some long distance offsh.o.r.e. The island was bare except for three tall white towers which shimmered in the late afternoon sun, but the towers were not what interested Simon. Walking on the island before them, pa.s.sing in and out of their threefold shadow, was a tiny figure with white hair and a blue robe. Simon was certain it was Doctor Morgenes.

He was considering the causeway-it would be easy enough to walk across, but the tide was growing higher, and soon might cover the thin spit of land entirely-when he heard a distant voice. Out on the ocean, midway between the island and the rocky shoal where Simon stood, a small boat was rocking and bobbing in the grip of strong waves. Two figures stood in the boat, one tall and solid, the other small and slender. It took a few moments to recognize Geloe and Leleth. The woman was calling something to him, but her voice was lost in the roar of the sea. recognize Geloe and Leleth. The woman was calling something to him, but her voice was lost in the roar of the sea.

What are they doing out in a boat? Simon thought. It Simon thought. It will be night soon. will be night soon.

He moved a few steps out onto the slender causeway. Geloe's voice wafted to him across the waves, barely audible.

"... False!" False!" she cried. " she cried. "It's false... ! !"

What is false? he wondered. The spit of land? It seemed solid enough. The island itself? He squinted, but although the sun had now dropped low on the horizon, turning the towers into black fingers and the shape of Morgenes into something small and dark as an ant, the island seemed indisputably substantial. He took another few steps forward. he wondered. The spit of land? It seemed solid enough. The island itself? He squinted, but although the sun had now dropped low on the horizon, turning the towers into black fingers and the shape of Morgenes into something small and dark as an ant, the island seemed indisputably substantial. He took another few steps forward.

"False!" Geloe cried again.

The sky abruptly turned dark, and the roar of the waves was overwhelmed by the cry of rising wind. In an instant the ocean turned blue and then blue-white; suddenly, all the waves stiffened, freezing into hard, sharp points of ice. Geloe waved her arms desperately, but the sea around her boat surged and cracked. Then with a roar and an out-wash of black water as alive as blood, Geloe, Leleth, and the boat disappeared beneath the frozen waves, sucked down into darkness.

Ice was creeping up over the causeway. Simon turned, but it was now as far back to the beach as it was toward the island, and both points seemed to be receding from him, leaving him stranded in the middle of an ever-lengthening spit of rock. The ice mounted higher, crawling up to his boots....

Simon jerked awake, shivering. Thin dawn light filled the copse and the trees swayed to a chill breeze. His cloak was curled in a hopeless tangle around his knees, leaving the rest of him uncovered.

He straightened the cloak and lay back. Miriamele was still asleep beside him, her mouth partially open, her golden hair pushed out of shape. He felt a wave of longing pa.s.s over and through him, and at the same time a sense of shame. She was so defenseless, lying here in the wilderness, and he was her protector-what sort of knight was he, to have such feelings? But he longed to pull her close to him, to warm her, to kiss her on that open mouth and feel her breath on his cheek. Uncomfortable, he rolled over and faced the other direction.

The horses stood quietly where they had been tied, their harnesses wrapped around a low-hanging tree branch. The sight of the saddlebags in the flat morning light suddenly filled him with a hollow kind of sadness. Last night this had seemed a wild adventure. Now, it seemed foolish. Whatever Miriamele's reasons might be, they were not his own. He owed many, many debts-to Prince Josua, who had lifted him up and knighted him; to Aditu, who had saved him; to Binabik, who had been a better friend than he deserved. And there were also those who looked up to Simon as well, like Jeremias. But he had deserted them all on a moment's whim. And for what? To force himself on Miriamele, who had some sad purpose of her own in leaving her uncle's camp. He had left the few people who wanted him to tag along after someone who did not.

He squinted at his horse and felt his sadness deepen. Homefinder. That was a pretty name, wasn't it? Simon had just run away from another home, and this time there was no good reason for it.

He sighed and sat up. He was here and there was little to be done about it, at least right now. He would try again to talk Miriamele into going back when she woke up.

Simon pulled his cloak about him and got to his feet. He untied the horses, then stood at the edge of the copse and peered cautiously around before leading them down the hill to the river to drink. When he brought them back, he tied them to a different tree where they could easily reach the long shoots of new-grown gra.s.s. As he watched Homefinder and Miriamele's unnamed steed contentedly break their fast, he felt his mood lighten for the first time since awakening from his frightening dream.

He gathered up deadwood from around the copse, taking only what seemed dry enough to burn with little smoke, and set about making a small fire. He was pleased to see that he had brought his flint and striking-steel, but wondered how long it would be until he discovered something he needed just as much but had forgotten in the hurry to leave camp. He sat before the fire for a while, warming his hands and watching Miriamele sleep.

A bit later, as he was looking through the saddlebags to see what there might be to eat, Miriamele began to toss in her sleep and cry out.

"No!" she mumbled. "No, I won't ..." She half-raised her arms, as though to fight something off. After watching in consternation for a moment, Simon went and kneeled beside her, taking her hand.

"Miriamele. Princess. Wake up. You're having a bad dream."

She tugged against his grip, but strengthlessly. At last her eyes opened. She stared at him, and briefly seemed to see someone else, for she brought her free hand up as though to protect herself. Then she recognized him and let the hand fall. Her other hand remained clutched in his.

"It was just a bad dream." He squeezed her fingers gently, surprised and gratified by how much larger his hand was than hers.

"I'm well," she muttered at last, and drew herself up into a sitting position, pulling the cloak tightly about her shoulders. She glared around at the clearing as though the presence of daylight was some silly prank of Simon's. "What time of day is it?"

"The sun's not over the treetops yet. Down there, I mean. I walked down to the river."

She didn't reply, but clambered to her feet and walked unsteadily out of the copse. Simon shrugged and went back to his search for something on which they could break their fast.

When Miriamele returned a short time later, he had turned up a lump of soft cheese and round loaf of bread; he had split the latter open and was toasting it on a stick over the small fire. "Good morning," she said. She looked tousled, but she had washed the dirt from her face and her expression was almost cheerful. "I'm sorry I was so cross. I had a ... a terrible dream."

He looked at her with interest, but she did not elaborate. "There's food here," he said.

"A fire, too." She came and sat near, holding out her hands. "I hope the smoke doesn't show."

"It doesn't. I went out a little way and looked."

Simon gave Miriamele half the bread and a hunk of the cheese. She ate greedily, then smiled with her mouth full. After swallowing, she said: "I was hungry. I was so worried last night that I didn't eat."

"There's more if you want it."

She shook her head. "We have to save it. I don't know how long we'll be traveling and we may have trouble getting more." Miriamele looked up. "Can you shoot? I brought a bow and a quiver of arrows." She pointed to the unstrung bow hanging beside her saddle.

Simon shrugged. "I've shot one, but I'm no Mundwode. I could probably hit a cow from a dozen paces or so."

Miriamele giggled. "I was thinking of rabbits or squirrels or birds, Simon. I don't think there will be many cows standing around."

He nodded sagely. "Then we'd better do as you say and save our food."

Miriamele sat back and placed her hands on her stomach. "As long as the fire's going ..." She stood and went to her saddlebags. She brought out a pair of bowls and a small drawstring sack and returned to the fire, then placed two small stones in the embers to heat. "I brought some calamint tea."

"You don't put salt and b.u.t.ter in it, do you?" Simon asked, remembering the Qanuc and their odd additions.

"Elysia's mercy, no!" she said, laughing. "But I wish we had some honey."

While they drank the tea-Simon thought it a great improvement on Mintahoq aka aka-Miriamele talked about what they would do that day. She did not want to resume riding until sundown, but there were other things to be accomplished.

"You can teach me something about swordplay, for one thing."