Barrenlands (The Changespell Saga) Page 17

  "I've got him." Rather than tightening the lead, Ehren gave a hint of slack. "Shaffron, son... ease up a bit. It's your very own blanket and it won't eat you."

  "Then again," Laine said, more cheerfully as he got the blanket settled on the chestnut's back, "on this road, you never can be sure."

  Ehren snorted. So did Shaffron, sticking his nose just inside the wagon to do it. "Thank you very much." Ehren said dryly, but tugged on the horse's chin while he was at it. Laine took advantage of the distraction to lower Shaffron's saddle to his back. The horse promptly snapped at him, his teeth clicking shut just inches from Laine's arm as the lead rope brought him up short.

  Laine skipped back out of range. "I hope this gets easier— we've got quite a few days left on this road."

  "It might not," Ehren said. "I trained him pretty thoroughly."

  "You did this on purpose?" Laine said incredulously, warily reaching under Shaffron's belly to grab the girth. "You taught him to be vicious?"

  "I taught them both to accept no hand but mine," Ehren corrected him. "They won't bother anyone who doesn't reach for them."

  "I don't suppose you thought about this situation when you did it," Laine said, tightening the girth a careful notch by notch.

  Ehren shook his head, looking more wan than he'd probably admit to feeling. "It's not always convenient, but it's served me well. Ricasso accepts you now— though I wouldn't try to ride him."

  "No fear of that," Laine said. He settled the pack tree over the saddle, securing crupper and breast band. Shaffron watched him with a rolled eye, his lips twitching sporadically along with little Laine-aimed jerks of his head.

  As Laine stepped back to survey the bundled goods ready to sling over the pack tree, Ehren said, "You and Shette were in the wagon last night."

  "We sat with you a while," Laine said, busying his hands with the packing, paying special attention to the knots. "We weren't sure until well after dark that you were really going to make it."

  "Dajania had a spell," Ehren said, frowning a little. "I seem to remember... don't I?"

  Laine grinned. "You do. I'm surprised, though. Between the pain-slip and that infection, I'm surprised you remember anything of yesterday." He thought, briefly, of the family stories he'd told Shette. They were the sorts of Dreams that had upset his parents, and therefore things that were for no one's ears but Shette's. He'd been sure, at least for a moment, that Ehren had been awake.

  Ehren grimaced. "I'm lucky they had that spell."

  "It's a new thing, Dajania says." Laine tied a sack of grain and mentally balanced it off with the leather bag holding horseshoes and nails. "Some of the, umm, less official local wizards are setting spells into stones and crystals— Therand hasn't sanctioned it yet. Dajania said the structure of the stones are supposed to help preserve the structure of the spell just as well as the fancy rings the High Level wizards charge so much for. And then anyone who knows how can trigger it."

  Ehren lifted an eyebrow. "That's going to make those High Level wizards pretty unhappy."

  "It saved your life yesterday," Laine said soberly. "I don't have any doubt about that." He'd seen the sudden glow around the wagon from his downhill vantage; even from there the Sight had been drawn to it.

  "I agree." But Ehren's voice held stress, and Laine returned to his task with purpose, intent on finishing before Ehren might lose his grip on the lead— or more likely, wear himself into a set-back while refusing to let that happen.

  Dajania drifted in close— albeit not too close. "Almost done?"

  Laine didn't look up from the knot at hand, tying a final hitch. "I hope so."

  "Ansgare wants to get moving. If we push it hard, we can make the Trade Road early tomorrow."

  Cued by the displeasure in her voice, Laine stepped back from the horse to look at her. She saw the question in his expression and said in a low voice, "It'd be better if he weren't traveling at all."

  "No doubt," Ehren said, ignoring the fact that he wasn't supposed to be listening. "But I'll do."

  She made an exasperated noise. "All right, then. Drink down this wine, then, and don't fight me. I saw it on your face this morning— you don't want it. You're too used to being in charge of yourself. Well, join the rest of us and swallow."

  "Dajania," Ehren said— just that word, for the moment, while she stood all haughty with the rough pottery mug in hand— haughty and maybe even trembling just a little. That his voice turned gentle came as a surprise to Laine. "I'm all right now. I'm going to stay all right. And I'll drink your wine."

  Laine looked away as Dajania smeared an angry tear from her cheek and gave Shaffron wide berth to reach the back of the wagon. By the time she climbed in, Ehren had threaded the frayed lead rope through the throatlatch of the halter and around Shaffron's neck, tying it off so he couldn't step on it. "All right, Dajania. I'm all yours."

  "Don't forget it," she said, but she sat gently along the side of the bed and helped steady the mug when he reached for it.

  Laine figured they'd finished with Shaffron just in time.

  He patted the side of the wagon in a gesture of departure, and headed for the new lead wagon, where Ansgare waited with Machara. The wagon itself belonged to Vitia, who sold cloth goods and could whip up a quick alteration as well. Hers was a big, sturdy wagon, an emblem of her success over the years. She'd readily handed over the reins to Machara, preferring to ride several wagons back with Ansgare.

  "I don't think we'll have any trouble," Laine said, trying to ease the tension gathered between Ansgare's eyes. "I bet we came up on that wizard from behind— and that means we should be clear of him going forward."

  Ansgare grunted unresponsively, looking at Machara. "You be careful. Don't get into anything stupid."

  "You say the sweetest things," Machara replied, straight-faced. Too straight-faced. Laine looked at Ansgare in surprise, and a grin crept onto his face as he understood. Ansgare, in anticipation of the caravan dissolution, had spoken out to Machara. Finally.

  "You wipe that look off your face," Ansgare told Laine. "I'm still your boss, at least for the next few days. Show some respect."

  Laine sketched a quick and careless bow, and Ansgare dismissed him with a wave of his hand and a grunt. "Smart-ass youngster," he said, and walked away, adding over his shoulder, "You keep your eyes open, both the black and the blue!"

  "That's my job," Laine said, and climbed up into the wagon, settling himself beside Machara, where the grin sneaked back onto his face.

  "Unlike Ansgare, I can whip you silly," she said. "Even if Ehren has been giving you lessons."

  Laine promptly turned his attention frontward.

  Machara gathered the reins and clucked to the team, a pair of confident draft mules. When Machara asked them to turn downhill from the trail, they did it without hesitation, their neat mule hooves treading carefully in the uneven footing, ably controlling their descent speed. They hit the creek and turned into it, the wagon lurching behind them.

  They traveled along the creek without problem, navigating territory that Laine had already scouted once that day. The rest of the wagons followed without incident, leaving only Bessney's damaged equipment behind, perched on the side of the hill— forlorn and empty, with no guarantees any of them would ever make it back here to recover it.

  Laine looked away, blinking his eyes so they were clear enough to scan the path ahead.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  CHAPTER TEN

  Ehren sat on Dajania's wagon bed, one foot on the floor and the injured leg stretched out before him, as they entered the edges of the Therand border town— a town far more significant than the station by Solvany's border. Here, the rugged border mountains gradually faded away, rippling into hills that spread out into Therand; the merchants in this area had room to sprawl.

  It took him a few moments to notice the wagon had stopped. It shifted as the women disembarked, and Ehren sat alone with his pain-slip hazy thoughts as the caravan halted in a loose grouping.
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  Decision time. For the first time in weeks he took the ring off his neck and fitted it on his finger, fumbling slightly as it slid into place. Against his chest, it transmitted a sense of itself, but the impressions lacked clarity. Now it left no doubt— it wanted him to turn around for Loraka, and it wanted that now.

  Damn. Until the avalanche, he'd been slipping the ring onto his little finger several times a day to check its indications— since then, it hadn't crossed his mind. What little I have of it. It meant he had no idea when they'd passed the spot where the ring stopped wanting him to move forward and began prompting him elsewhere.

  The delicate silver band began broadcasting sudden new excitement, and Ehren frowned at it, pulling it off with a decisive movement as Laine rounded the back of wagon.

  "Hey," Laine said, by way of greeting. "How're you feeling?"

  "I have the mind of a turnip," Ehren said promptly. "We've crossed the border?"

  "Almost. We're just on the outskirts of T'ieranguard. We'll have one of the inspectors come here and go through the wagons; it's easier that way. There's a lot of business to be had in town, not like the border going into Solvany. Our stopover here is usually twice as long as that one." He grimaced, and said, "Usually. I don't know what's going to happen this time. There's a big gathering tonight."

  Ehren eased his leg into a more comfortable position. "What are your plans?"

  "Same thing I came to ask you. Me, I usually break off from the road a ways back and spend the stopover with my family." He sighed, looking away from Ehren and toward the town. "Ansgare's going to buy me a pack saddle— he wants to give me the price of the mules, too, though it wasn't written into the contract that way."

  Ehren wasn't surprised to discover Laine could read. Not after what he'd heard the other night— barely remembered, but slowly trickling back to the surface.

  "Generous," he said, not really thinking about Ansgare at all. After all he'd been through with Laine, after he'd grown to look upon Laine as a friend in this world where Ehren now had so few he could trust... he suddenly had a terrible choice to make.

  For completing this assignment would no doubt mean betraying Laine.

  But if he didn't do it— if he walked away— he'd lose everything. Worse, he'd betray Benlan.

  And Laine had no idea. "Ansgare is generous, when he doesn't stop to think about it," he said, cheerfully unaware. "For now, I'll load what's left of our stuff on Nell and take Shette home. Then I guess I'll have to do some thinking. Depends on what the merchants decide tonight." He gave Ehren a direct look and said, "What about you?"

  "What about me?" Ehren asked, with the feeling that he should have been able to follow the conversational leap. A turnip. Definitely a turnip.

  "I thought you might want to find a surgeon, if you have the coin. Or that leg's going to take an awful long time to heal."

  A complete healing would cost more than he had. Much more. "Maybe Sevita can get her hands on another one of those healing stones."

  "Ansgare's asked her to look."

  "Ansgare's an honorable man," Ehren said.

  Laine leaned against the raised tailgate of the wagon, resting his arms along it and settling his chin on his fist in a contemplative air. "What then, Ehren? What are you looking for?"

  You and your family. The sudden clear thought sprang up in the midst of Ehren's fog.

  It didn't mean acting on what he found. He didn't have to trigger the ring right away. He could think about it.

  "Ehren," Laine said, sounding amused.

  Right. Laine had asked a question— but not one Ehren wanted to answer out loud. At least, not truthfully. "Even if we find a healing stone, it's going to be a while before I'm road-worthy. I need to find a place to hole up. If you're headed home, I wondered…"

  "You want to come with us?" Laine said, raising his head as wariness infused his face and posture; he closed a doubtful eye.

  "Not if it's a problem," Ehren said, sensing that to push would only increase resistance. "Maybe Dajania and Sevita will let me stay here... do they work out of an inn while they wait?"

  "I'm not sure," Laine said. He grinned. "I'm sure they'd love to have you stay, no matter their working arrangements. I have to tell you, life got a lot easier for me once they had you to work on."

  Ehren looked around the interior of the wagon. It was a comfortable place, with small homey touches that had initially surprised him. "They're not as tough as they make you think," he said. "If you agreed to pay for a night with one of them, you'd ruin all their fun."

  "Could be. All the same..." Laine shook his head. He gave his head a decisive shake. "Leave you with them? I'm not sure I could do that to you. Unless you want me to, of course," he added, making Ehren laugh.

  Ehren just shook his head— no matter that it had been too long. He thought of Jada— she would have tendered an invitation, he thought, if he'd spent a day or two more in Kurtane the last time through. And before Benlan's death, there'd been another Guard...

  Of course, just like all the others, she had been killed with Benlan. And now he had work to do.

  "By the way," Laine said, "Ansgare said someone was asking about you, up at Vitia's wagon. Ansgare told them to ask questions somewhere else until we got the caravan straightened out. But I thought you'd want to know."

  But no one knew he was here. Or no one should. A wizard could certainly track down a specific individual, given the general area and a personal acquaintance— or at least a belonging— with which to narrow the search. But did Varien really distrust him that much?

  If so, there was no doubt just as much reason to distrust Varien.

  "Ehren," Laine said, his voice both patient and amused— again. "We're not used to visitors…it'll take a bit for my parents to accept you. But... it's a good place to heal. A safe place."

  Ehren thought the words a safe place held more significance to him— for Dannel and Jenorah— than Laine would have liked, had he known.

  But he didn't.

  Ehren looked at Laine's open, honest face and then turned away, feeling a pain that had nothing to do with his leg.

  ~~~~~

  Laine set a significantly slower pace than usual on the way home.

  The healing spell allowed Ehren to ride without reopening his wound, but it left him far from whole; he drank the pain-slip without comment when offered, and that alone told Laine more than he wanted to know.

  Shette walked near Ricasso, never repeating her mistake of reaching for the horse's head— but never far away, either. While Laine set up camp each evening, Shette made sure Ehren had what he needed... and furthermore, she managed to do it without an excessive amount of chatter.

  Not the Shette he was used to.

  The avalanche. She had grieved for their mules, and for Ehren— first for the death she thought was imminent, and then for his hurt. She watched Laine face the loss of the caravan— and she reached out to comfort him.

  Definitely not the Shette he was used to.

  Not that the caravan had been officially disbanded. No one wanted to take the road; no one wanted to sever their connections to the lucrative route. Finally, Ansgare threw his hands in the air and sent them off home with a promise to send word before the summer was over. Perhaps they'd do another run on their own, rechecking the route. There was some hope that the wizard's death meant the end of trouble.

  Laine tried not to think of it as he led Shette and Ehren homeward, into Loraka.

  They traversed the pass, a zig-zagging trail that climbed sharply, peaked, and then dropped off nearly as sharply. Over the next day, the landscape gentled, and that evening they stayed in a tiny inn near Valleydwell. The small town rested in a wide, hilly valley between two steep ridges, where the surrounding homesteads were carved out of the highly mounded foothills; Laine's family had settled far beyond the town, in the cleft where the two ridges of the valley were joined.

  On that final morning, they paused in Valleydwell to pick up some goods for
the homestead— and then, with equal parts anticipation and trepidation, Laine took them home.

  ~~~~~

  Ehren declined a noon dose of the pain-slip, for he wanted all his senses about him when he first met Dannel and Jenorah.

  Laine led them down a narrow game trail, followed by Ehren on Ricasso and trailed by Shette, who led Nell and her packs.

  The small copses through which they traveled spoke of what this land had been before man tamed it and turned it to pasture and slanted fields. Small shy creatures skittered away from the trail; the high air came scented with the warm trees. The sun hung high in the long summer day, creating sharp shadows that rippled over the grassy ground.

  Ehren thought he should enjoy the simple beauty of it all— Laine obviously did— but he was hot and exhausted by pain, and irritated at his own weakness.

  Laine finally looked back at him and said, "Just over this rise, Ehren— you look terrible."

  "Thank you." Ehren said, didn't bother to hide his general irritation or the rasp in his voice.

  "Well, you do. Don't worry. A few more minutes and we'll have you off that horse and drinking something cool." His words were meant to be reassuring, but beneath them, there was worry.

  "Your family won't be that happy to see me, will they?" Ehren brushed away a deerfly as it settled on Ricasso's shoulder.

  "Well-l-l..." Laine dropped back to talk more easily, and admitted, "Probably not." He rubbed the heel of his hand above each eye, wiping off sweat, and said, "Don't be surprised if it takes them a minute to get used to the idea. They're just private people."

  Ehren looked pointedly around the remote area. "This doesn't come as a surprise, Laine."

  "Don't worry about it. They'll like you. It just may take them a moment to realize it."

  At this point, Ehren didn't care if Dannel and Jenorah hated him on sight. He simply needed to sit somewhere cool and quiet and not moving. Just for a few moments.