The White Road

CHAPTER 15 Closing In

AS THEY moved farther south and the map grew more vague, Rieser found himself relying increasingly on Turmay and his moon goddess. But if the oo’lu visions were true, then their quarry were unexpectedly coming their way like charmed rabbits, almost as if the witch was luring the tayan’gil ever closer.

In Nanta, Rieser’s gold had bought them and their horses passage on a large ship bound for the place on the map that Rieser had shown the master of the ship.

“You want to go to Cirna?” the stupid Tír had asked, speaking slowly and tapping the map as if Rieser were an idiot child. “Cirna?”

Rieser gave him a narrow-eyed scowl. “If that is what that place is called, then that is where we want to go.”

The crossing was more difficult than the trip down the river had been. Great waves buffeted the ship and threw water onto the deck like rain. Young Rane and Morai fell sick the first day, but the master of the ship just laughed and called it “seasick.” Apparently it was nothing to worry about. By the second day the others were well again, if a bit pale. Once again, Turmay could not play for them, and Rieser prayed to Aura and the spirit of Hâzadriël that their prey would not slip away in the meantime.

They reached their destination after a few miserable days, and Rieser was surprised to discover that—if this was indeed where they’d been meant to go—this Skala land was no island. A land bridge connected it to the mainland. Cirna lay at the bottom of a huge cliff that extended as far as the eye could see on either side. At the head of the bay was a great dark channel called Canal, flanked by soaring columns carved into the rock, with huge watch fires burning at the top. The captain claimed it had been made by a wizard called Orska, if Rieser had understood him correctly. He doubted the story; what man could have such power?

The city itself climbed all the way to the heights above.

They put in at the large harbor. There were more warships here, and the waterfront was teeming with soldiers, many of whom appeared to be drunk.

The captain directed them to a precariously steep road that led up to the larger part of the city. Reaching it at last, even Rieser let out a whistle of amazement. The city that spread out in every direction was larger than Wolde or Nanta, and it straddled the Canal. A long bridge wide enough for several wagons to pass crossed over it to the other side. Rane and Thiren walked out a little way on it, until Nowen noticed and shouted for them to come back. Both boys were pale but grinning. Rieser went to see for himself; the bottom of it was lost in darkness, but he could hear voices and the creak of ropes echoing up from the depths as some ship passed through.

Yet even with such a wonder, Cirna was still nothing more than another filthy Tír city. The crowded streets were strewn with garbage, and dirty children, roving dogs, and pigs ran wild through the midst of it all. Vendors carrying ring-shaped bread, hats, painted bladders, or bunches of ribbon on tall poles moved among them, crying their wares. Rieser had never been surrounded by so many Tír at one time and it was making him nervous, especially with half his riders gawking at everything like children. As always, Hâzadriën was a calm, silent presence at his side. The glamour still held, and no one gave the tayan’gil a second glance.

He caught sight of a few Aurënfaie among the throng as they rode south through the city. They looked just like his own people in their long coats and sen’gai, but the head cloths were all different colors and patterns. They even wrapped them differently, in complicated ways unlike the simple wrap and knot of his clan. He counted four different clan patterns as they continued on.

He was sorely tempted to stop and speak with some of them, but when he overheard them talking and could barely make out what they were saying, he held back. He couldn’t reveal what clan he was, even to his own kind. It was strictly forbidden.

So they continued on through wealthy streets, and then impoverished ones at the edge of the city, overrun with dirty people on every corner and around each public fountain. Sly-looking beggars called out unintelligibly to them as they rode by, some of them even holding out bowls, as if they expected Rieser to feed them. It was disgusting. Any ’faie would kill himself if he were brought so low.

Safely outside the city that night, Turmay played again, then shook his head. “They won’t come to this place.”

“I thought you said they were coming right toward us,” said Nowen.

The witch shrugged. “This is a big land. Bigger than I expected from the marks on your map. But I do see them. They are on a boat coming to this land.”

“Can you narrow it down at all?” asked Rieser.

Turmay played again for a few minutes, mingling owl sounds and catamount cries into the booming drone. When he was done, he lowered the oo’lu and pointed. “They will be that way.”

“That way” was south, and the witch was right about this being a large place. From here, the land stretched to the horizon, much of it mountains. How in Aura’s name were they going to find one ya’shel and something the size of a child out there?

The journey thus far, he realized, had been a general following of a direction. Turmay had been a good guide, assuming he was leading them the right way, but the map had become less trustworthy the farther south they went, perhaps because Hâzadriël and her followers had not come this way during the long trek north.

They made camp on a windswept plain above the sea. Looking around at his riders shivering in their cloaks, Rieser felt great pride. None of them had complained or shown doubt through all the long weeks it had taken to get this far, not even the young ones. Rane and his brother Thiren were joking with Sorengil about something, and Kalien and Allia had their heads together. Love might be budding there, he thought disapprovingly. That would be a needless complication. Nowen, Sona, and Morai had been with him longer and were old enough to know better, as was Taegil. Rieser was not bothered by such feelings any more than Hâzadriën; not when he was on the hunt.

Turmay played while they ate around the fire, then said, “Yes, this is the way.”

Rieser was secretly growing a little uneasy about their dependence on the witch, and this city had unnerved him. The khirnari’s seer had seen the tayan’gil and its keepers going to Aurënen, not here. Now Turmay said otherwise.

He looked up to find that the dark tracery of witch marks had appeared on Turmay’s hands and face, which was all he could see of him. “You doubt me?” the witch demanded quietly.

An unpleasant chill ran up Rieser’s back. “You didn’t tell me you could read thoughts.”

Turmay held up his oo’lu and looked around the circle of suddenly distrustful faces. “I can’t. I don’t need this, or any other magic, to read faces, Rieser, and yours is full of doubt. I see clearly when I play. I promise you, we are very close now. A few days at most.”

Rieser sensed no duplicity in the witch; from the start he hadn’t, and it occurred to him now how odd that was. He was not a trusting man when it came to outsiders. Had some of Turmay’s “songs” been responsible for that?

Still, he gave Turmay a grudging nod. “I meant no offense. It’s been a long journey, and an uncertain one. I’m grateful that you have led us in safety this far.” It was true. They hadn’t encountered so much as a bandit along the way, and the closer they had come to this land, the less any attention was paid to their ’faie looks.

A few days. He held on to that. Once they were that close, he could rely on his own skills and Hâzadriën’s once more.

“They’re coming on a boat,” Turmay said again. “If we ride south, I will know the way to find them. The Mother will not fail us.”

Rieser sighed inwardly. “Well, it’s a start.”