The Riddle - Alison Croggon [72]
Like Cadvan, Maerad wore her pack, with all her personal belongings and traveling food, on her back. The horses were burdened with other supplies: mainly oats, to see the animals through the pass where there would be no grazing, and rolled-up sheepskin coats and jerkins for the colder weather Cadvan and Maerad would encounter in the mountains and Zmarkan. They were traveling as lightly as they could, but it still made a heavy load. Darsor, who was strong as a warhorse, looked unbothered by his burdens, but Maerad worried for Imi. She was of a sturdy mountain breed renowned for its endurance, but she was not as strong as Darsor. And if they were going to be as swift as Cadvan planned, it would be a punishing journey for her.
Gahal and his household stood by the door, huddled against the cold, to farewell them. All Gahal’s bonhomie was quenched as he soberly said goodbye.
“I cannot see far along your path,” he said, “but we all know you are flying from shadow into shadow, and that no matter where you tread, perils will pursue you. All our blessings and grace go with you.”
“Nevertheless, we will be safer moving than staying still,” said Maerad.
“You are right, of course.” Gahal gave her an unsettling look, and she remembered their conversation in the garden. “You have yet to know your heart, young Bard. Be vigilant! There are perils that have nothing to do with arms and weapons.”
Maerad blushed slightly and turned away.
“Peace be on your house, and all who live there,” said Cadvan, and they both embraced each member of Gahal’s family.
“And may the Light bring your journey to a safe end,” said Rena. The customary farewell had an added weight. Maerad hugged Lyla hard without saying anything, kissing her on both cheeks. Lyla burst into tears and ran back into the house.
Somberly they mounted their horses and trotted out of Ossin, heading away from the river on the white-graveled track. Maerad didn’t look back, although she knew with another sense that Gahal stood looking after them until they turned the corner and were out of sight.
Around them the fields and trees were white with frost, only now beginning its slow melt under the pale heat of the early sun. All the dells and lowlands were thick with fog, wisping in curlicues as it drew up into the sky and disappeared. They followed the path as it ran into the birch woods, the shadows falling chill over them. The horses quickened their pace into a canter, and the air hit Maerad’s cheeks like a cold river, tingling them into life as the blood began to move through her body and the cold receded from her bones.
Cadvan and Maerad had talked through their plans with Gahal the previous evening. Both of them felt that time was pressing, a sense that grew more urgent with every passing day.
“You are outlawed now,” said Gahal. “I have contacted Carfedis, and you will be helped there, but you will need to enter that School in other guise in case you are sighted. You can expect no assistance from anyone, no farm nor inn nor School, once you leave Ileadh: anyone could betray you, to the Light or the Dark. And I do not doubt the Dark will be seeking you — Hulls sent by Enkir and perhaps the Nameless One himself — since the Dark, it seems, now has free movement through Annar.”
“No road is without risk,” said Cadvan grimly. “And I have taken thought of those you speak of. We can have hope in the fact that Enkir does not know where we are going, or why, and will not expect us to reenter Annar, even if he has tracked us as far as Gent. He will expect us to be fleeing him, and I think he will believe that we are seeking refuge in the Seven Kingdoms,