The Charnel Prince - J. Gregory Keyes [101]
The Briar King’s gaze lingered. In the eyes of the greffyn, he’d seen only sickness. In the eyes of the Briar King, he saw life.
Cursing softly, he lowered the bow as the creature and its entourage faded into the trees.
The howling stopped, and the forest was quiet.
“I cannot say for certain that was the right choice, holter,” the Sefry said, breaking the silence. “But it is the one I would have made.”
Aspar returned the arrow to its case. “And now suppose you just tell me who you are?” he muttered.
“My clan is Sern,” she replied. “My talking name is Liel, but I prefer the name I was given in Nazhgave—Leshya.”
“You’re lying. No one from clan Sern has left the Halafolk rewns in a thousand generations.”
“Did you find any of my clan at Rewn Aluth? You’ve seen for yourself that we have. And I broke that prohibition long ago, before any of my folk.”
“Sceat,” he snarled. “How do you know so much about me, when I’ve never heard of you?”
She smiled grimly. “You think you know everything about the Sefry, Aspar White? You do not, and far less about me. As I said, I’ve been away. Thirty winters I spent in the north. I only came back when I felt him wakening.”
“You didn’t answer my question. How do you know so much about me?”
“I’ve taken an interest in you, Aspar White,” she said.
“That’s still no answer,” he said. “I don’t have much patience with Sefry two-talk.” He narrowed his eyes. “Every Sefry in the forest left months ago. Why are you still here?”
“The others flee from their duty,” she said sternly. “I do not.”
“What duty is that? I’ve never heard of any Sefry having a duty to any beyond themselves.”
“And I’m afraid that for the time being you’ll remain unenlightened,” she said. “Will you attack me for my silence?”
“I might. You got a friend of mine killed.”
“The mannwight? I had no way of knowing that would happen—I only wanted you to see what the Church was doing. He must be somehow sensitive to the fanes. Was he a priest?”
“So you don’t know everything either.”
“No, of course not. But if he was a priest, and has walked another faneway, perhaps one related to this one, it might explain—”
“Wait,” Aspar said, as memory suddenly struck him. “This sedos—is it part of the same faneway as the first one you led us to?”
She raised an eyebrow. “It seems most likely. Those monks built that fane first, then came here.”
“And were they finished here? Did they complete their rites?”
She glanced at the messy corpses around the mound. “I think so,” she said, “but I am certainly no expert on these matters.”
“Then I’ll bring the one who is,” Aspar replied. He turned to leave.
“Stay a moment, holter. We still need to talk. We are, it seems, working toward the same purpose.”
“I have only one purpose right now,” Aspar replied, “and I doubt very much that it’s the same as yours.”
“I’m going with you, then.”
Aspar didn’t answer. He found Ogre, mounted, and rode toward where he had left the others.
But still the Sefry followed.
He found Ehawk, Winna, and Stephen not far from where he’d left them, except they had somehow gotten Stephen’s body up into an ironoak, safely wedged in the crotch of two branches. Ehawk had his bow out.
“That’s them,” he said, when he saw Aspar. “That’s what attacked us in the Duth ag Paé. Hear them?”
The song of the slinders had begun again, albeit very distantly. “Yah,” Aspar said. “But I don’t think they’re coming this way.”
“You saw them?” Winna asked, starting to clamber down.
“Yah. I saw ’em.”
Winna’s feet hit the ground, and she ran to throw herself into his arms. “We thought they had you,” she whispered, pressing her face into his neck. He felt dampness.
“It’s fine, Winna,” he said. “I’m fine.” But it felt good, after the days of tension and argument.
But then she stiffened in his arms. “He’s here,” she said. “Behind you.”
“Yah. It’s not Fend.” Nonetheless, he shot Ehawk a cautioning glance. The boy nodded and stayed in the tree with his weapon ready.
“No?” she pulled away from him, and they watched the Sefry walk into the