The White Road - Lynn Flewelling [76]
"Mind your tongue," Rieser cautioned, covering her mittened hand with his own.
Rane staggered over and sank to his knees beside his dead brother, blood trickling from both ears, and began the death keen.
"Not here, Rane," Rieser said, wrapping an arm around the boy's shaking shoulders. "There'll be time later to mourn, when we've found some safe place for the night."
Rane wiped the tears from his face with his sleeve.
Rieser found his eyes stinging, too. He had lost riders before, but Thiren was his mentor's son. He was glad Syall i Konthus wasn't alive to know this.
Turmay was on his feet now, white and unsteady. He hands shook as he tried to warm himself in his frozen clothing.
"You didn't know that one of them was a wizard?" Rieser demanded.
"Because none of them are," Turmay replied, sinking down beside him, looking very green and ill. "I--I would have seen such a one. That was not magic; it was--power. This must have come from their tayan'gil."
"That's impossible. They don't kill."
Turmay gestured weakly back at the dead boy, and at the other riders staggering around holding heads and stomachs. Several were vomiting into the snow. "This one can. And your own tayan'gil was the only one of us not stricken by its power."
"A lucky thing for us," said Rieser, watching Hazadrien minister to the others. "Sona, Taegil, go look for the other horses. Turmay, you come with me. Nowen and Hazadrien, you take care of the others here."
Mounted on the two remaining horses, he and the witch set off to see what direction the ya'shel and his tayan'gil had gone. Three distinct lines of shallow hoof marks dimpled the fresh snow, heading southeast. The horses had been running at a gallop. They were probably miles away by now, but he kept going.
"What was that sound?" Rieser asked as they rode along, not really expecting an answer.
"I think that must be the power of the tayan'gil."
"I still say they don't have such an ability."
Turmay frowned at him from the depths of his fur-lined hood. "Even so, I tell you this one does. Remember that it was made from a half-breed's blood. Who knows what that would do?"
Rieser snorted softly. "That should make it weaker, not stronger. One of the others must be a wizard. They exist among the Tir in the north, so why not here?"
Turmay shrugged. "Then perhaps it was that."
They followed the trail for nearly a mile before it ended; the snow was less deep on the ground here. The wind had swept away all trace of them.
With a muttered curse, Rieser turned back and kicked his horse into a gallop, retracing his steps with Turmay beside him. The chase would have to wait for as long as it took for his riders to recover.
And what then, he could not say.
CHAPTER 18
A Wizard's Touch
SEREGIL and the others were relieved to finally see the glow of firelight through windows in the distance. They urged their tired horses into one last gallop and reached the inn a few minutes later.
He and Micum knew the Bell and Bridle well; they'd sometimes stayed here when they were out working for Nysander, and Seregil had sung for their supper by the broad hearth a time or two. It was a large, friendly establishment frequented by traders and travelers of all sorts, with a comfortable, smoky taproom on the ground floor and rooms of passable cleanliness above.
There was a sizable crowd tonight, mostly traders and drovers, with a handful of soldiers mixed in. Few of them gave the newcomers a second look, focused as they were on the pretty young woman plucking a harp by the fire. That suited Seregil just fine, together with the fact that he didn't recognize the woman giving orders from behind the polished bar. Better not to leave a trail of acquaintances if someone might be tracking you.
He looked around for Thero as he made his way through the crowd to the bar, but didn't see any sign of him. "Have you any rooms for the night, Mistress?"
She gave him a pretty smile. "Have you the silver to pay for it, sir?"
Knowing he didn't