She made a small growling noise.
“You’re afraid of him,” she said.
“I have considerable respect for Benedict, not to mention some affection.” She laughed.
“Is he a better fighter than you, a better swordsman?”
I looked away. She must have just gotten back from someplace fairly removed from things. The townspeople I’d met had all known about Benedict’s arm. It was not the sort of news that traveled slowly. I certainly was not going to be the first to tell her.
“Have it as you would,” I said. “Where have you been?”
“The village,” she said, “in the mountains. Grandpa took me there to stay with some friends of his called Tecys. Do you know the Tecys?”
“No, I don’t.”
“I’ve been there before,” she said. “He always takes me to stay with them in the village when there is any sort of trouble here. The place has no name. I just call it the village. It is quite strange-the people, as well as the village. They seem to-sort of-worship us. They treat me as if I were something holy, and they never tell me anything I want to know. It is not a long ride, but the mountains are different, the sky is different -everything!-and it is as if there were no way back, once I am there. I had tried coming back on my own before, but I just got lost. Grandpa always had to come for me, and then the way was easy. The Tecys follow all of his instructions concerning me. They treat him as if he were some sort of god.”
“He is,” I said, “to them.”
“You said that you do not know them.”
“I don’t have to. I know Benedict.”
“How does he do it? Tell me.” I shook my head.
“How did you do it?” I asked her. “How did you get back here this time?”
She finished her wine and held out the glass. When I looked up from refilling it, her head was cocked toward her right shoulder, her brows were furrowed, and her eyes were focused on something far away.
“I do not really know,” she said, raising the glass and sipping from it automatically, “l am not quite certain how I went about it. . . .”
With her left hand, she began to toy with her knife, finally picking it up.
“I was mad, mad as hell for having beed packed off again,” she said. “I told him that I wanted to stay here and fight, but he took me riding with him and after a time we arrived at the village. I do not know how. It was not a long ride, and suddenly we were there. I know this area. I was born here, I grew up here. I’ve ridden all over, hundreds of leagues in all directions. I was never able to find it when I went looking. But it seemed only a brief while that we rode, and suddenly we were at the Tecys’ again. But it had been several years, and I can be more determined about things now that I am grown. I resolved to return by myself.”
With the knife, she began scraping and digging at the ground beside her, not seeming to notice what she was doing.
“I waited till nightfall,” she went on, “and studied the stars to take my direction. It was an unreal feeling. The stars were all different. I didn’t recognize any of the constellations. I went back inside and thought about it. I was a little bit afraid and did not know what to do. I spent the next day trying to get more information out of the Tecys and the other people in the village. But it was like a bad dream. Either they were stupid or they were purposely trying to confuse me. Not only was there no way to get from there to here, they had no idea where ‘here’ was and were none too certain about ‘there.’ That night I checked the stars again, to be sure about what I had seen, and I was about ready to begin believing them.”
She moved the knife back and forth as if honing it now, smoothing the soil and packing it flat. Then she began to trace designs.