When we swung off the Renthan in the open space where we had taken counsel earlier, we found a varied company awaiting us. Their faces were sober, their mood one of impatience. It was Dahaun who spoke first.
“There was”—she seemed almost at a loss for words—“a Great Troubling. What happened? Or do you know?”
“Ask of Kemoc,” Ethutur returned shortly and their attention fastened upon me. Kyllan looked surprised but Kaththea, at his side, was frowning slightly.
“I do not know,” I told them. “We were about to be thrice-ringed by Gray Ones, together with Rasti. All I did, and why I cannot tell you, was speak words I had learned at Lormt. And then—then—”
“You were answered.” It was Kaththea who spoke. “Unwise, unwise to meddle when you are not trained in the Mysteries.”
For the first time in my life I met in her—not the incredulity which Kyllan had earlier shown—but a turning from me, a closing of doors. Behind was some emotion I could not read. Was is that her long years of Witch training had set into her the belief they all shared, that no man was to usurp their dealing with the Invisible? If so, it was so unlike the Kaththea I knew that I could not accept it. Yet withdraw she had and I was too hurt to pursue her, or even question. I would not put it to the proof. Sometimes we cling to uncertainty, dreading fact.
I spoke then to Dahaun, rather than to my sister. “Be sure that I shall not try it again. I do not even know why I did it then.”
She took a step forward and laid her hands on my shoulders. Then, as I was the taller, she looked up to meet my eyes. But she used words, not the mind touch, to answer me, because, I am sure, she wanted all those others to hear her.
“What lies within a man, strength, will, or gift, rises to the surface when need calls. That you were answered is a shock, for it was our belief that the Great Ones had sped from us long ago. But now you have taught us that they are not to be disregarded, and that is well worth our knowing. It is in my mind that you have done us a singular service this day.”
Her words appeared to ease the tension. Now Kyllan raised the question of how our mission to the Krogan fared. He frowned when he heard it was a failure. Then the war leader asked in turn concerning the Thas and Dahaun replied:
“They did not even come to answer the torch signal. So we can continue to guess whether their absence means neutrality, or whether they have allied themselves elsewhere.”
“But there is other news,” Kyllan offered. “The sentinels from the peaks have signaled that another party from over-mountain comes into the foothills.”
“Then they must be met with a guard to bring them here,” Ethutur said, “It is my belief that the country is roused and the lesser ones of the shadow will do all they can to prevent our mustering of any force.”
As I went to bathe in one of the renewing pools of the Green People, to put on the lighter clothing they wore, I still looked for Dinzil or any of his following. Kyllan came to sit upon a bench, watching me draw on breeches, latch the golden clasps of the jerkin across my breast.
Finally I brought my thought into the open. “I do not see Dinzil.”
“He rode out before dawn. There is much to be done in raising the Heights. What of these Krogan?”
It seemed to me that Kyllan skirted the subject of Dinzil, was too quick to change the subject. But I followed his lead and told him all I had observed of the water people.
“Would they matter to us greatly?”
“Ethutur says they have ways of penetrating wherever there is water, they, or the creatures who give them allegiance. I saw no weapons except their spears. Yet those looked deadly. Who can say that they do not have other arms which were not shown? Ethutur believes they are still neutral. He accepted their decision without argument.”
That had puzzled me, for my reading of him was that he had too much force of character to accept rebuffs tamely.
“He was bound by custom,” Kyllan said. “There has been no compelling, nor pleading, between race and race after they fled into refuges. They have been content to go their own roads apart.”
“Custom cannot save any of us now,” I countered. “Which way did Dinzil ride?” Deliberately I came back to my own questioning. “Kyllan—you know how it has been with us always. Would I push this uneasiness if I were not convinced that it holds some danger for us three?”
He looked me eye to eye as Dahaun had done earlier, and we mind touched; I opened to him all my worries.
“I believe that you believe, brother.”
“But—you do not?”
“Enough so that I shall hold watch and ward if he returns. But—this I must say to you, Kemoc—do not flutter those flags of war before our sister, not when they are to raise hosts to face in that direction!”
My hands tightened until my stiff fingers pointed palely.
“It is like that then.” I did not ask a question; I stated a fact.
“She has clearly shown her liking. She will read ill will into any contrary urging, not against him, but against the one giving the warning. She has . . . changed.” There was uncertainty in him also, a kind of bewilderment which was less than that pang I felt when she had closed her mind to me an hour earlier, yet which carried some of the same hurt.
“She is a maid, unwed. We knew that sometime she would look upon some man with eyes she did not turn to us. That we could face . . . but this man—no!” I said that as one swearing an oath. I knew that Kyllan heard it so, but he shook his head slowly.
“Over this we may have no control. He is a man esteemed, and he pleases her; that is to be seen by the least observant. Against that, you offer but a feeling of wrongness, which she and others may read as jealousy. You must have more proof.”
He spoke the truth, but sometimes the truth is black hearing. So did it seem to me now. Again Kyllan picked up my thought.
“It is hard to believe that you summoned one of the Great Ones and were answered. We were schooled that such is impossible save for an adept. No man of Estcarp ever trod that path, so you can see that Kaththea finds it hard to accept. How did you do it?”
“I tell you, I do not know. Ethutur warned of thrice-ringing; we were riding to cut through before that happened.” I spoke of seeing the words as fiery darts. And then that sound which had blasted at us all.
“Our mother asked wisdom for your share when she called our futures,” he said thoughtfully when I was done. “It would seem that you do have some power . . .”
I shook my head. “There is a vast difference between learning and wisdom, brother. Do not confuse the two. I called upon learning then, and without thinking. Perhaps that was folly—”
“Not altogether. It saved you; did it not? And, as Dahaun has said, it made known to us that certain forces are still at work here, powers long thought gone.” He spread out his hands and regarded them thoughtfully. “For most of my life I have been at war. But before it was with steel and weapons known to me. This is a different war, and I am no worker of power—save that which lies within my own mind and body.”
“Nor shall I be, henceforth!”
He shook his head. “Vow no vows upon that subject, Kemoc. We do not read the future—nor, I believe, would we really want to if we could. For I do not think it is in us to change what will come to pass. You shall do that which is set before you for the doing, as shall I, and every living thing within Escore. We shall go down to defeat, or ride to victory in the end, each playing his own ordained part.”
I broke through his somber words. “You said that once you dreamed of this land at peace once more, and of holdings of our folk well planted here. Do you not remember?”
“Dreams are not the truth. Did you not dream a darker dream only a night ago?”
“Kaththea told you?”
“Yes. She believed it to be a seeking sent by some black power, a try at influencing you.”
“And you?”
Kyllan got to his feet. “It can be that you are both right: That you had a forewarning; that it was twisted by some power. This is no country in which to dream. And no country to allow some comrades to ride into, unwarned, unarmed . . .”