The Key of the Keplian

8

Winter came slowly that year. The snows held off, the air remained warmer, and the land gave of berries, nuts, and fruit as never before. It all made Eleeri very suspicious. The wisdom of the Nemunuh said that a time like this was Earth Mother’s warning: times ahead would be hard. Store food, eat well, and prepare. She did so, gathering everything she could in the large woven baskets Far Traveler had taught her to make. Dried meat she stored in one of the rooms above the great hall.

But if times were to be cold as well, perhaps she should think of more bedding. She had more hides than she needed; those could be traded for woven stuffs at the same village as where she traded for the goats.

Tharna was reluctant. *The way is far, the road dangerous.*

Eleeri laughed. “Both true, but when the land warns, the wise warrior listens. Come part of the way with me; Hylan, too, if he wishes.”

There was an eager whicker from the young stallion, and the friends shared amusement. The girl stood, stretching slowly, enjoying the pull of fit muscles. It was a strange life, this one she lived, but it contented her. She had friends who were as family, a kin-sister and kin-son, a strong roof, and ample food. The water was clean, the air clear, and the hunting good.

A shadow swept across her face then. Who was she trying to persuade? She loved the life, the Keplians, but she missed human companionship. No, let her be truthful in this, since it was only to herself she spoke. Years were passing. She was almost twenty; her heart cried for a mate. She watched the Keplian mares with their foals, the pride of Hylan and his gentleness. Her body hungered, but not for food. She silenced it. What would be, would be. She must live with contentment if other joys were not granted. But there were humans she could visit.

She remembered her first trip to the lake keep, two days’ ride down the stream and along the lakeshore. Originally, many long generations ago, it had been lovingly built. Then it was abandoned during the adept wars. Later, those who lived there now had given it new life.

She chose gifts to take. The first time she was sure she had been closely watched, but neither lord nor lady had appeared. Instead she had been offered shelter in the same stable as her pony. No one had challenged her. But she was eyed warily all the same.

Another trip would be fun. The village about the main tower was small: just a well-fortified keep, central tower, inner courtyard, and a circle of cottages about it. In all, not more than forty people. The lord, his kin, and the three families who served him directly, along with armsmen, lived in the central keep. Cottages served for those who raised the garden vegetables and tended the animals. It was a small but happy community as far as she had seen.

She rode in close to sundown, the dun pony striding eagerly under his load of furs and hides. This time the stableman brought an invitation as soon as the pony was relieved of his burden.

“Lord Jerrany asks if you will dine with him and the Lady Mayrin. After the meal, they would be pleased to see what you have brought.”

Eleeri’s ears pricked up at this. Interesting. Last time she had been treated with a wary condescension. Oh, the people had been polite enough. But it was clear that although they asked her no questions, they wondered at a woman who rode alone. She had conducted herself carefully, showing only courtesy and some of the lesser furs she had brought on that first trip. No sense in exciting greed. But with this invitation it was as well she had chosen to pack a couple of gifts suitable for a lord and his lady.

She waited until the man had gone, then opened her pack. She would place those carefully chosen presents on the top before lacing the tough material closed again. For a moment she lingered in the stable, brushing the pony as he leaned into the slow strokes. She had learned enough from Cynan to know that in some ways this Escore was a ghost-ridden land. It was haunted by those who had died in the adept wars, those slain by the Dark and those who served it. But with the coming of others from overmountain in Estcarp, new life had sprung up.

Cynan had said that with the newcomers the Dark had been stirred to action once more. But also small places such as this which had been long dead, had risen to new life. Her eyes flickered about the stable. This would have been rebuilt. It looked as if the roof was new, but the stone walls were old. Her own hold was like that. Well, she would take a quick look about outside. Last time she had not wished to, in case they took it amiss.

She nodded to herself as she walked to the door to stand looking out into the growing dusk. The keep had been carefully situated by whoever had raised the ancient stone walls. It tucked into a tight curve at the far end of a lake. In addition, the builders had bounded it by digging a ditch deep into the rocky ground. This completed the encirclement, so that the entire village was surrounded by running water. A potent spell, as the girl had learned.

She walked to the edge of the stream. The water had cut deeper over the ages so that it now ran through a deep channel and must be crossed by a bridge. She studied the mechanism—clever! The bridge could be raised to prevent passage. She looked closer and grinned. The locking bar was of forged iron. So the lord and his lady knew that trick.

But then, in this land they’d be fools if they didn’t.

She peered along the bridge, and her invitation to dinner started to make sense. At the far end, where she had crossed casually only a short time before, there was a new addition. It wasn’t obvious from the approach side but could be seen quite clearly from where she stood.

At the far end, thin forged iron bars had been inset into the wood between the planking. They were recent; she was sure she’d have noticed them had they been there before. Ancient stone posts guarded the bridge’s approaches, and from where she leaned, she could see a faint blue glow. It looked as if runes of protection had been placed there in slight hollows. They would be unseen by any approaching, even crossing the bridge. But it would take a Dark one of considerable power to cross. And such a one would set the runes to blazing.

So that was why she was now welcomed. The keep defenses had passed her as one who, if she did not walk in the Light, at least was not of the Dark. The sun was setting. She hurried back to the stable.

Shouldering the pack of furs, Eleeri tramped into the hall. A handsome man clothed in rich fabrics—obviously the Lord Jerrany—rose to greet her, offering a guest cup.

“To the farer on far roads, the welcome of this roof. May fortune favor your wandering.”

Eleeri’s hand went up as she allowed the pack to slip to the floor. “For the welcome of the gate, my gratitude. For the feast, thanks. To the lord and lady of this roof, all good fortune and a bright sun in days to come.” As she spoke, slowly her forefinger traced signs of guard and good fortune. She allowed her mind to open to them, and the air began to glow. Jerrany would have leaped for her, but his lady seized him hard.

“No, look to them. Here is no ill-wishing.”

The signs brightened into the warm blue-green of Light as the girl stepped back. She grinned cheekily up.

“Now that we all know where we are, would you prefer to eat or look at furs first?”

For a startled moment the two gazed at her. Then Mayrin’s grin flashed into a startlingly close copy of Eleeri’s smile.

“Come, eat and be very welcome. There is always time to look at luxuries later.” She slipped around the table and walked to the girl. “Sit here.” She turned. “Don’t all stand there gaping; bring our guest food. Or do you plan to starve a woman of the power?”

Servants sprang into action guiltily. Mayrin turned back. She eyed Eleeri’s pendant with interest. “You wear no jewel. Is this what you have instead?”

She had spoken without thinking, and now her hand went up to cover her mouth, just as her Lord looked horrified.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I know that was rude and I have no right to ask such a thing. I—it’s so beautiful I just asked.”

A soft chuckle. “Why not?” There was no need to speak of the pendant’s power. “It was a gift from a friend.” A thought came then. “Are either of you kin to one Cynan of the House of Bear’s-Kin?”

It was Jerrany who answered. “Cynan? I am not sure I know that name, but my mother was of the house. All that was swept away in the Horning. Her kin departed the land safely, but when they would have returned, it was too late.” Eleeri looked a question. “The turning came then. Soon after, my mother and her lord chose to take horse for Escore, called by geas.”

“Would she have known Cynan?”

“I do not know. It is possible, with the house on both sides of the border, there was some coming and going before Karsten ran mad. You do know there were two houses of that name?” At Eleeri’s headshake he nodded, continuing then. “It was thus. The house was founded by a landless man of good blood. It was on the border where land was easier come by, since Karsten was empty and the land was wild. Many generations later, another son of the house returned to Estcarp to build there. His keep was on the other side of the border, but close by as the hawk flies.”

He paused to savor the roast set before him. Eleeri and Mayrin smiled at each other as he talked.

“The house in Estcarp prospered also, and for many years there was much travel and trade between the two. My mother was of the Estcarp house. Of later years, the trade had lessened, but she had said when danger came, her house stood by kin, as was right. I think that those of the Karsten house were given shelter, but later they moved on. I know little more. My mother herself was wed shortly before the Horning and dwelt not within the keep.” He finished, reaching hungrily for the trenchers of bread.

“I thank you for that. Do you write to your mother?”

“Letters go with trade goods to other places. A letter may come to her hand in time.”

“Perhaps then you could say that Cynan of her house in Karsten wished this to be known to his kin.” She straightened, allowing her voice to take on an impersonal note. “I, Cynan of the House of Bear’s-Kin, returned to my keep to die within those walls. The land is yet in turmoil, so I have survived. But age comes upon me, I will lie in the land that once was ours. Let my kin remember there are two houses, that one day they may return. This message I send by the mouth of one I name kin-friend, sword-sister. Aid to her at need is laid upon our house, even as she aided me when I stood alone. This I, Cynan of the House of the Bear’s Kin, do swear.”

She reached for her pack then, producing the two plump packages. Formally she laid them upon the table, undoing the twisted grass string which bound them. In turn she held each up so that the lord and lady might see.

“To the lord and lady of the keep, I offer guest-gifts. May they be received from one who would be friend to you and your kin.”

Jerrany rose to bow. “They are received as guest-gifts,” he said slowly. “Friends in this land are always good to have, but those who move too swiftly may stumble. Yet we, too, would hope to have gained a new friend.”

Eleeri nodded, seeing that he did not move to take up the gifts. She laced the pack shut again and sat to continue the next course offered. As she ate quietly, she mused on the power she had displayed to them. It was growing, it seemed. When she had arrived in Karsten, she had been no more than a child with the horse-gift. But her time in Karsten seemed to have changed her. Meeting the lady in the place of the Old Ones. The gift of the warding stones. Cynan’s teaching. All seemed to have brought growth to her gift.

Once she had crossed into Escore, found her Keplian friends and her hold, things had changed further. The hold had closed about her in warmth. It was both unfamiliar and oddly familiar. As if after long wandering she had returned home. She eyed Mayrin as the woman ate. She, too, seemed to have some of the gift.

Mayrin looked up, to return the glance and smile a little. Then she reached for the gift. She laid it out, biting back unseemly groans of delight. A vest of rasti fur, and another for Jerrany. Her eyes glowed at the soft feel of the fur as she stroked it.

Jerrany reached for his own guest-gift. He had seen the quality at first glance and had deliberately taken time so as not to show his own interest. Eleeri watched as he took it up.

But Jerrany was giving nothing away. He passed her more food, pressing wine on her as well. She drank sparingly of that; water was her usual drink.

The conversation moved on to hunting and Eleeri realized with some amusement that the lord was now trying delicately to discover her home territory. His questions circled cleverly. At one time querying if certain bushes would grow in her area, at another if hill hens were within her borders. She answered truthfully. It was unlikely he would find her. The canyon was high in the mountains where few trails ran. Nor was the entrance easy to find, even for one who followed the Light.

Once the meal was concluded, she reached for her pack, unlacing the drawstrings with swift fingers. Then she began to unfold furs, some the dazzling white of the mountain leapers, others the silver-tipped rich brown of river rasti in winter. She had had to work very carefully to get those last. Rasti hunted in packs and would attack anything that was food if they hungered. They were swift, cunning, and deadly, appetites on four legs, feared by even the most skillful hunters. They could be killed. But those who fell dead were at once eaten by their kin. To have cured undamaged furs proclaimed her far and wide as a hunter of unmatched skill.

Jerrany drew in his breath. There was now no doubt, this one was of the Light, but what a hunter, also. He must indeed write to his dam and kin. He would send word also to the Green Valley and she who dwelled there. His lady caught his eyes, speaking wordlessly with tiny movements, her eyes alight with hope. He nodded slightly, hand twitching in a signal that she should move slowly. For several hours they bargained over the finest furs either had ever seen. The girl had come from the mountains somewhere, that was certain. Leaper furs of this whiteness could only have come from beasts living in snow more than half a year.

He allowed the rasti furs to slide through his hands. But this was the puzzle. These were lowland animals; this type tended to live by rivers on flat land.

Eleeri retired to the offered room for the night while he still sat pondering. She had to be of the Light. She’d passed forged iron, runes of ward and guard; she’d then called Light in runes herself. But the pendant his lady had admired was that of a Keplian. Those accursed followers of evil had killed many over the years. Would it be wise to broach to the girl the matter of the missing one?

He shrugged, departing for his own bed. There he found Mayrin of no mind to let slip an opportunity.

“Where do you then think her to live?” he was queried when he confessed his bewilderment.

“I know not. She brings furs from mountain and plains. Aldred says she came from the east along the lakeside. Those rasti furs are of a kind that makes a home by rivers; maybe she followed the stream that flows into our lake. But I cannot be sure. None of us have traveled far to the east. Those are the lands of the Gray Ones and the Keplians.”

“She is not evil,” his lady was swift to point out.

“That is seen, but how she lives in such a place, I do not know.”

His lady shrugged. To her it mattered not where the girl lived, as long as she was sure of her innocence. That she was, after the demonstration in the hall. She was sure of another thing, also. Eleeri had a sense of humor. She had marked the wicked twinkle as their visitor called power to her runes. It had been as if she were saying, There, you misjudged me. Mayrin had felt a sudden feeling of liking flow between them as eyes met. She wanted to know more of Eleeri as a friend.

She lay curled in her warm bed, mind drifting into sleep. But even as she relaxed, her heart wept, remembering.

She loved Jerrany. He’d been her idol from the time she was old enough to admire his youthful courage. He, in turn, had been kind to the younger girl who followed him. He had told her of his ambitions, to raise up a house again. His father had died in Estcarp’s wars, and his mother fled to Escore with her new lord, a man Jerrany disliked. He would carve out new lands for himself, not be beholden to another.

That was as well, Mayrin had thought silently. Her hero’s stepfather liked the boy no more than the boy liked him. Jerrany’s mother had produced other children to her new lord. It would be they who inherited his holding, close to Mayrin’s own in a dangerous land.

She herself had been promised to another, a man she feared. But her own father was adamant.

“What if you do not like him, silly chit? You know nothing of him but his looks from afar. You will wed him and unite our houses.”

But Escore, too, warred, and the man died—to her very great and secret relief. Jerrany announced soon after that he planned to seek a new home. She had been heartbroken: she would never see him again. He was brother, friend, protector, and he was deserting her.

In secret she had learned swordplay from Jerrany. Now she bent her mind to gathering other abilities: knowledge of poison, the making of arrows, the setting of guard runes. Jerrany had come and gone, bidding her a gentle farewell. Her father had begun to cast about for another lord for her when Jerrany returned, jubilant.

“I’ve found our home. It’s all a ruin now, but most of the walls are still there. We can build it up again, Mayrin.”

“What have I to do with it?” she had asked bitterly.

She had met astonished eyes. “Why, it’s our home,” he had said simply. “Don’t you want to be with me?”

Her heart had leaped up. Without caring for her dignity, she had flung herself at him, laughing and weeping at the same time. “Of course I do. You know I do. I thought you didn’t want me.”

He had taken her by the shoulders, setting her back from him so that their eyes met. “I suppose I always thought you knew. I love you, Mayrin. Why else would I have been seeking land and a home for us? Now I have a place and we can be wed.”

It hadn’t been that easy. Her father had first forbidden her to see the boy, as he had termed Jerrany. Finding that difficult to enforce, he had spoken to Jerrany himself, only to find a fighter who met him as an equal.

“I love Mayrin; Mayrin loves me. You may bring her to the altar with another. You cannot force her to speak vows, nor would such an attempt be approved in this place.”

Her father had been furious, so much so that he had tried to goad her brother into an attack on Jerrany. But Romar had refused. Jerrany had been his friend since they came to the Valley of the Green Silences. He was almost the same age and together they had trained, fought, become as brothers in blood. Mayrin had thought at this point her father would suffer a seizure.

“Defied by one whelp!” he had roared. “Then by the other. By all the gods, you may go your own way, then. But expect nothing from me. Neither bride gifts, nor aid, nor anything I have. Go your way alone, both of you!”

They had done so, with Mayrin set in the care of Duhaun herself as her brother and beloved gathered what they must have. Others had chosen to join them, the lure of new lands being great. Some from Estcarp came still to Escore, and three families of those who joined them. Here and there single men added themselves to the group, bringing what they had in the way of goods and gear. More had followed later.

Romar—she remembered his gaiety. His laughter. He had been a rover, a wanderer across this strange and ancient land. It had called to his heart so that for months at a time he had vanished into its vastnesses. It was as if he sought without knowing, as if he hungered without being satisfied. He looked at none of the girls who would have been glad for his notice. Her father had raged to no avail. Those who led here valued the boy’s skills, his reports of a land where evil was slowly being driven back.

Mayrin had loved her brother. It had delighted her heart when he chose to accompany them. But now he was lost, gone into that unknown from whence she feared he would never return.

Now from out of that same unknown a woman came. Nothing was impossible; perhaps Eleeri had seen or heard something. Maybe she could seek out some clue to Romar? Mayrin resolved to be careful, to move slowly, as her lord had said. But she would know all that her visitor knew. She would!

In sleep her mouth still held tight to that resolution. Romar was her brother beloved; no unknown land should reive him from her. She would befriend this traveler, leech from her any secrets she knew, use her if she must, anything to bring her brother home again.

The morning dawned bright and fair. Eleeri would have ridden homeward then, her trading complete, but that Mayrin pled with her to stay awhile. For the sorrow in the lady’s eyes, Eleeri stayed. They talked and laughed together as lonely women will, finding in each other a friend unlooked for.

A day passed swiftly, and another. Glad to see his beloved so happy, Jerrany also pressed the visitor to remain. In all, Eleeri was at the keep for seven days before her need to return grew great. That last day Mayrin took her aside.

Her head hung in shame as she talked, but the younger girl smiled. “Don’t look like that, Mayrin. I guessed there was a favor you needed. Whatever it is, I can promise to try if it not be against honor.”

“It is not, I promise it is not.” Mayrin ran lightly from the room to return with a small package. It was wrapped in a piece of fine cloth which she unwrapped gently.

“I’ve talked about Romar, my brother. He went from us into the lands to the east many months ago now. Nor has he returned. I fear for him.” She stared sadly at the palm-sized painting she now displayed to Eleeri. “This was done before we left the Valley of the Green Silences. I have one of myself and my lord also. But this is dearer by far. It may be all that is left to me of Romar.”

“The favor?”

“Wherever you go, wherever your home is, let you seek, let your eyes be ever busy searching, looking for one like this. I would give all I have to bring him safely home.” Her eyes were desperate.

The woman she addressed nodded slowly. “I do indeed wander, as did your brother, sometimes to the east. I will watch for him, free him if he be trapped, bury him if I find his body, bring news to you if I have any. But only as I can. I, too, have those who rely on me. I cannot risk them for one unknown who may already be dead. But I sorrow for your grief. I will do what I can.”

Mayrin flung her arms about the slender body. “That is all I ask. Come back. With news or without it, a welcome holds for you ever.”

Eleeri turned away, but Mayrin’s fingers seized her arm. Eleeri turned, brows raised questioningly. A small object was pressed into her hand.

“Here; you did not look truly. Look now, study the face. He may have changed a little if he has been treated ill by those of the Dark. Please, remember him, find him for me.”

Eleeri looked down. At her previous glance the boy had seemed nothing special. Now she looked closer as her new friend begged. She guessed that Romar would have been sixteen when the limning was done. The same age as— She stared suddenly. No wonder she had no more than glanced. Why should she look closer? The image of this boy stood staring imploringly at her.

“You know he’s alive somewhere, don’t you?” Eleeri said. “You’re twins.”

“That is so,” Mayrin said softly. “I feel him to be in great danger, but death has not touched him as yet. You are also right that we are twins. It is rare, very rare for those of the Old Race. Few there have been with any talent in our line, but Romar has an affinity with beasts. Horses in particular.” Her fingers twined and twisted frantically, although her voice remained calm and quiet. “But we have the gift of twins. I would know if he were dead; therefore he is not. Find him for me, Eleeri.”

For a long moment, Eleeri studied the portrait. Mayrin had changed, but not greatly since this was done. The boy here was young, untried. But there was strength in that face, pride without vice, power without the need to use it unjustly. The eyes were lonely, inward-looking. To an outsider he would have appeared as no great one to risk aught for. His face was thin, with fine bones and a determined chin. Eyes of a shade more green than gray, if the painter had not lied—but no. Mayrin’s eyes, too, were that hue. The mouth was clean-cut, modeled with almost a delicacy, but there was no weakness in the set of those lips. It was the mouth of one who acted as well as dreamed.

It drew her in a way she had never felt before. She was no child to be attracted by any pretty face. She would have shrugged off the feeling, but even that would have been to acknowledge it. Mayrin had been kind; her lord had traded fairly. They asked only that she be alert for traces of this one. It was not asked that she storm any strongholds of the Dark. She glanced down again. Hmm, a trick of the light . . . for a moment the painted eyes had seemed to implore, to focus on her. Her face came up, eyes measured Mayrin. Witchery? No, she did not think so. Just a trick of the light.

This likeness must have been made ten years ago or more. From what her friend had said during the past week, Eleeri could piece some things together. Romar must be about twenty-seven now, Jerrany some three years older. She bit back a sound of contempt. Mayrin’s father must have been an idiot. Fancy expecting a boy of sixteen to confront one who was older, more experienced, and his best friend as well. Twenty-seven—about six years older than Eleeri was now. She brushed that idea aside. His age was unimportant. Let him be a child or a grandfather, she had promised to watch for signs of him. That she would do, but no more than that.

She rode midmorning, with Mayrin and Jerrany at the bridge to wish her a good journeying. The women hugged a final time and there was a genuine friendship in that.

The keep’s lady wore her guest-gift proudly, the vest of rasti fur glistening in the sun. Now and again her fingers strayed to the pockets lining the inside. How clever, how cunning. She would have these made for every gown now that she had been given the trick of them. Jerrany, too, would find them useful, in his jerkins. Romar should, too—she felt a bitter pain. Romar might never know anything she would wish to tell him. She watched until horse and rider vanished around the lake edge.

“Find him, please find him, bring him back to me,” she whispered into the air.

Eleeri rode around the lake. With all her trade pelts gone, she could ride again, and it pleased her. The walk to the keep had been long and tiring. In a day or two she would be back at the canyon with Tharna, Hylan, and the others. But as the pony trotted on, a young face intruded. Well, she would keep an eye open for the boy—man now. The gray-green eyes seemed to hang in her mind, hopeful, waiting. With a determined effort, she banished them. Winter was coming. She had things to do other than looking for some fool who’d probably only gotten himself lost.

She slept that night in wards, but in her dreams she saw him. After that he was gone. Eleeri nodded. Her mind was her own; it would banish what it was bid. If imploring eyes watched her, after that they were ignored. So she told herself, and who is to say she lied?