tyranny. Various alliances between the remainder of Serethgin, Kroaxia, and a
number of other kingdoms had waged a series of wars to free the hapless people
of Carthogia from their yoke, but so far they had been unable to prevail against
the Carthogian army, which though small in numbers fought fanatically because of
the ruthless discipline imposed upon its soldiers, and with the advantage of
innovative weaponry created by enslaved craftsmen who lived chained to their
workbenches.
At least, that was the official story told by the priests and teachers of
Kroaxia. But Thirg had heard rumors of a different kind—rumors of a Carthogian
society that tolerated inquirers such as himself and permitted them to ask their
questions openly; of a slaveless society in which even the serfs were free to
own property and keep the major portion of the wealth earned by their labors;
and of an army of free robeings who fought to defend themselves against what
they saw as a return to the very form of slavery that Kroaxians were conditioned
to believe was normal and natural—all of which the priests and teachers insisted
were lies spread by Carthogian agents to undermine the faith and trust of the
people.
Thirg had never known what to believe. But he did know that many of his friends
had departed for Carthogia, and though from time to time he heard scraps of news
of them, none had returned; on the other hand, he had never met nor heard tell
of a Carthogian who had fled the other way. Did that mean they had found freedom
and tolerance as Thirg sometimes suspected? Or had they been kidnapped and
forced to remain in captivity as the Kroaxian teachers maintained?
For some reason, running away from the priests of his own volition would have
been, in his own mind, a betrayal of all that he felt he stood for. But, if
forced to leave by a band of armed brigands . . . well, that wasn’t the same
thing at all, was it? He looked up again at Dornvald and asked, so as to be able
to justify everything to himself later, “Have I a choice,
Kidnapper-of-Thinkers?”
“Most certainly, for have I not presented myself as an agent of the
Land-That-Gives-Freedom?” Dornvald answered heartily. “You can mount a steed and
ride with us freely, or you can be placed on a steed and ride with us bound—a
perfectly free choice to decide how you get there.”
“In that case I’ll come with you,” Thirg said.
“Wisest, without a doubt,” Dornvald agreed solemnly.
Thirg glanced at Groork for a moment, then looked back at Dornvald. “My brother
is passing by on his way to the Wilderness, where he goes in search of his
voices,” he said. “Our roads will run together for a while. Besides, we could
not in good conscience abandon him to the mercies of King’s servants unlikely to
find the disappearance of their quarry a source of any great amusement.”
“We have spare steeds,” Dornvald said, looking at Groork. “Would you travel in
company as far as the village of Xerxeon, Hearer, though I should warn you I
have no ear for holy words?”
“Arghhh!” Groork shrank back into the doorway of the house and covered his
imagers protectively with an arm. “Wouldst thou defile me with the stain of thy
followers, Henchman-of-Unbehevers? I will travel my road in solitude, for thine
leads not upward to the Lifemaker, but downward to the precipice of doom.”
Dornvald shrugged his shoulder cowlings. “As you will. But I doubt that your
voices will afford you the same safety on your journey.” He looked back at
Thirg. “There is one pack-mount for the possessions you would bring with you.
Kleippur has given particular instructions for the charts and records belonging
to the mapmaker, Lofbayel, to be preserved. If you have a safe hiding place, I
suggest you use it for anything else of value. Who can foretell when the strange
workings of fate might bring you this way again?”
“Kleippur knows of the charts?” Thirg sounded amazed.
“Kleippur makes it his business to know many things,” Dornvald replied.
Thirg spent a short while selecting personal belongings and some of his more