The Riddle - Alison Croggon [73]
Gahal nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps we could take some precautions to draw the pursuit off your trail. I will give thought to making some semblances. Perhaps they could head south to Lanorial.”
Cadvan looked up quickly, shaking his head. “I do not want to think of Bards of Gent risking their lives for us. Are there any among you who could face a stormdog?”
“Nay, I wasn’t thinking of sending any Bard,” said Gahal. “I have magery enough to trick the sight of any who watch, and to send a ghost ship south. It would work from a distance, perhaps long enough to muddy the scent.”
“Well, if there is no risk,” said Maerad. She didn’t like the thought of more Bards dying to protect her, either. Dernhil’s death still weighed on her heavily.
“I still think this is our best gamble,” said Cadvan. “We have no choice but to brave the Dark; even if we hid in a burrow, it would find us. At the same time, we need swiftness; it is already almost autumn, and the north will grow daily less hospitable to travelers. We will have to use the Bard Roads, at least until we cross the River Lir. There will be few on the road at this time of year.”
Gahal shook his head, but argued no further. He spread maps out on the table, holding down the curling parchment with his hands, and the three Bards pored over them. Cadvan wanted to ride as quickly as possible to the Gwalhain Pass, which pierced the Osidh Elanor, the great range that bounded the north of Annar, and would bring them out in Zmarkan. After that, he planned to go to the Pilanel settlement of Murask, a little north of the Pass, to gather news and to seek advice and help.
“It’s three hundred leagues and more before we even get to the Pass,” said Maerad, brushing the hair out of her eyes as she looked over the route. “It will be a hard journey.”
“Aye, and we will have to go like the very wind,” Cadvan answered. “It will try us. But I do not think we have a choice.”
And now they were on the first leg of their ride. It was not so bad, Maerad reflected; she would feel stiff for a few days until her muscles adjusted to the riding, but now the sun had risen fully and drawn off the mists, it was a beautiful clear autumn day. The horses were fresh and eager, and the birch woods were beautiful, their motley white trunks stretching up gentle grassy slopes starred with masses of small white flowers, the shadow of their branches dappling the ground with sunlight and shadow. Some leaves were just beginning to lose their green. Soon they would fade to yellow and spiral down to the forest floor; then their branches would be naked and the flowers would die, and the sere colors of winter would creep into the forest: browns and grays, and the peaceful white of snow.
It was the first time she and Cadvan had traveled alone together since they had arrived in Norloch, almost six weeks before. She fell into the rhythm of their being together; it was easy, a companionship born both of their shared dangers and long hours of uneventful journeying. But as they cantered through the woods, she found herself meditating on how their friendship had shifted since she was instated as full Bard in Norloch. While they had been in Thorold, their relationship had been mediated by many other people. But now that it was just the two of them again, she felt as if their friendship were suddenly thrown into relief, and it seemed to her less knowable than even she had thought.
For all their relaxed intimacy, there were depths and passions within Cadvan that she didn’t understand. She had seldom seen him angry, but the glimpses she had had were frightening, and she had only recently witnessed the power that was the source of his fame throughout Annar. Once, for a mere moment, he had permitted her to enter his mind, to feel his private perplexities and shames as if she were inside his skin. She had found it very hard to bear, and even that concession, so difficult for him, had revealed only a small part of himself.
He was one of the most private people