He pointed to the branch. That can slow them. Do you, every time I say ‘Now,’ turn and brush it across the ground where we have passed. The hounds will be baffled for a space.”
Thus we started on, curtained in the fog. Every time he said “Now!” I turned and swept the ground behind. We could hear the horn calling at intervals, and a yapping answered it. Sometimes it sounded nearer, and then my heart pounded and I felt the cold of fear rise in me. Then, mercifully, it would fade again, though whether that could be some peculiarity of the fog, I did not know. What I did see was that my branch, which had resisted such long handling and usage, being apart from the parent tree, was beginning to fray and lose blossoms. So I feared it would be gone soon. I said as much to Kosgro, but the only comfort he gave me was the hope we could find another of the silvery trees – since they were not rare.
“We are close now – hear?”
Hear I could the gurgle of water. Under our feet was bare gray ground in which white stones glowed dimly. Kosgro went down on one knee to grub out several of these, cupping them in his hands. To my surprise he examined them with care, as if we had all the time in the world to play some childish game. When he had selected nine of them, he waved me on. We slid down a bank, and there was the stream, which was not only a swift-running one, but also one with murky water. I had no liking to wade out into that.
“Here.” He took the stones one by one, spat on each, and mumbled something in so low a voice that I could not hear. As each was so treated, he threw it into the water, first near the shore, then each a little beyond, as if he could so make a bridge. When I was about to demand an explanation, I was shocked into silence.
Could I really believe the evidence supplied by my staring eyes? Out of the rippling water, on the very spot where each of those small stones had plopped out of sight, there arose a white block, offering a series of stepping-stones. But it must be all illusion.
“On!” He still held three stones, but with his other hand he gave me a shove to emphasize his order. It was plain he was willing to trust the blocks. I might have rebelled, only the horn sounded – far too close.
So I crossed to the nearest, sure I would not step on any firm surface but plunge into water. Only there was solid footing under my bandaged feet. Thus heartened, I tried the next and the next. I could not see through the mist to the other bank of the river, nor did I know how wide was the expanse so bridged.
I came to the sixth stone – and still water ran before me. Kosgro crowded up beside me and studied for a while before he threw the seventh stone. Then he said, “Wait here. until I can be sure how close we are to the far bank.”
He leaped to the seventh stone, and from there he threw the eighth. He was in the fringe of the fog now, and I could not see him clearly. I waited, shivering as the spray from the water being driven against the block on which I stood wet my feet and legs.
” – on – ” His call was muffled, but I thought he wanted me to come. So I went to the seventh, the eighth, and finally the last. There still water ran ahead, too much of it. But the! mist could not hide Kosgro standing waist-deep, holding with one thick arm to a fallen tree that lay out over that flood. He motioned me to jump so that he could reach me.
Making sure that the bag of stones and that of supplies was securely fast to my belt, I thrust what was left of the branch into the front of my tunic, leaving my hands free. Then I took that final jump.
The force of the current was such I would have been swept from my feet, bowled over and under its surface, if a hairy arm had not caught me. Somehow we both splashed and fought our way out on the bank and lay there gasping.
Again the horn sounded, so close that it must be now on the other side of the river.
“The blocks – they can cross – ”
“Look,” he told me, and I did so.
There were no blocks, and at least two of them should be visible to me.
“That spell does not hold for long, nor would it hold for any I did not will to use it. There is some advantage in spying on the Folk, you see. I have lurked and skulked and watched them all I could as they go about their lives apart from their strongholds – hoping to learn enough to be able to force my return or to drive some bargain with one of them. They will give me no heed, for I am One Between- neither of the Dark Ones, nor of their company – since I would not surrender to their ways. My only hope has been learning what I could. But at least one of my hard-won scraps has served us well this hour!”
Though I could still hardly believe that he had brought us across the stream in such a strange fashion, I could not deny we were there.
The horn gave a wild, threatening note. I leaped to my feet, ready to run. But Kosgro showed no haste.
“Running water.” He pointed to the stream. “That will halt any of the Dark Ones until they find a bridge somewhere, which will bring them over. For a space we are safe from them.”
11
“But we shall not stay here!” No matter how far away such a bridge might be, I wanted to be well away from here, though to move on in the mist also brought problems.
“No.” He shook himself, as might an animal, to tree his body from water. My clothing clung tightly to me. For the first time I wanted heat, a chance to see the sun and to be warmed by it.
I was willing to let him choose our way, for I had no guide. I might well blunder back to the river in this blindness. He was again sniffing the air, as if he would so smell out our trail.
Then he said, “There is a safe place of the Folk not too far away.”
He strode off as one who sees a clear road. I hurried to catch up to him and demand, “How do you know?”
“Can you not smell it?”
I could smell the scent of the bruised flowers I bore, and that was all.
“The Folk use growing things in their spells for doing and undoing. Where they grow, the scent hangs heavy.”
“Such as this?” I touched my bedraggled branch.
“No, that is something else. I do not know who planted those. But the Folk do not use them. They are from an earlier time, perhaps another people – ”
“Those mounds where these grew – was it once a city or a burial place?”
“It could be either, or both. If any know the history of this world, it is only the Great Ones of the Folk. And they guard their knowledge jealously. There is ever rivalry between them and the Dark Ones. And also some rivalry among themselves. Then, there is something else-” He paused as if he did not want to continue.
But I pressed him, for what I learned, each little scrap, might be an aid toward our return to a world I knew.
“What else?”
“I do not think that the Folk are supreme, though it is true they manage to hold those of the Dark in check. But I have heard enough to know that there is something they fear, that they pay a tribute to at intervals. And they pay that tribute in living creatures – which is also one or the reasons why they must recruit from other worlds.”
“The children!” Had Bartare been summoned for such a reason? If so, there was all the more need for me to find them – and speedily.
“I do not know.” It seemed he did not greatly care.
I had a flare of anger at that, until good sense snuffed it. After all, why should he? The children were nothing to him. And perhaps all that tied him to me was the food I carried. Only – if that were so, why did he simply not knock me out and take it? I had no doubt that his strength and fighting skills were superior to mine, and he could take the supplies with little trouble. Yet from the first he had asked and not forced. And the puzzle he presented continued to plague me.