Of course there were many pitfalls between this present moment and that to-be-wished-for result. And several might lie directly before us. I tried to move to lift my heavy head and loose-muscled body so that I might see over the driver’s seat. But I could accomplish nothing and lay panting and weak, alarmed at my state.
It was only when I lay so that I became aware that Maelen was engaged in more than merely directing the kasi down the road. There was an aura about her which tugged at mind—send powers. I was lying now so that I could watch her profile, her half face stern and set. Her hair was not piled in elaborate rolls as it had been at our first meeting, but bound about her head smoothly as to form a silver helmet. And the arabesque of ruby and silver which had then been on her forehead was gone. Now her eyes were half closed the lids well down as if her gaze turned inward, or on other things than the sights of this world.
But there was such a brightness on her face as to dazzle me a little. Was it the moon against her very fair skin, or did some of it come from within, the reflection of power stored there? Always before I had seen the human in the Thassa; now she was more alien than any of the animals with whom I had shared life and battle these past few days.
“Taking precautions,” she had called this. “Arming” was the name I would set upon it. I dropped my heavy head. I could no longer see her; yet the consciousness of her, how she sat, what she did, was so with me that it was as if I continued to watch her.
There grew up about us a new sensation as the van rumbled on—a kind of warning. It was as if some scout on a distant hill waved away our advance. As we did not heed that warning the uneasiness grew sharper, feeding into the mind a shadow of foreboding which became steadily blacker. Whether this was one of the defenses of the Valley, I could not tell. But apparently it did not affect Maelen, or swerve her from our advance.
I heard the child stir uneasily beyond the blanket, making small sounds of distress. But whether she slept and dreamed ill dreams, or waked to find them reality, I did not know. For I was ridden now by my own distresses. Lassitude in me was growing. At moments it was clear where I was and what was about me, at other times I swung out into a void of nothingness where the resulting giddiness frightened what sense I had left. And I could not tell whether the mists which fuzzed my sight when I tried to fasten on some part of the van were of the real world or bom of my increasing weakness.
The journey was endless. Time vanished, or rather the measurement of it did. I lay in the van and heard the whimpering of the child- I was gone-as if I rested on a shuttle racing back and forth weaving a future which eluded me.
Around, the air throbbed and beat-in time to the swing of the shuttle which bore me? No, this was a pulsation which broke that rhythm, anchored me in the van. Then I heard a sound which was part of that beat, a chant, I thought. It did not come from Maelen, but from the Valley, and it grew louder with every forward step of the kasi.
Oddly enough that beat of sound, of power, strengthened me as if it poured back into my slack body the essence which had ebbed since Osokun’s knife had sought my life. I lay, feeling that wash into me. Some ebbed again, yes, but each receding wave left a residue behind to hearten me. I was no longer onlv holding on grimly to what life I had, I was once more able to think beyond my body and my own concerns.
Once more I struggled up and looked at Maelen. Her head was thrown back now, her hands raised before her. Between her two palms, pressed together, was her wand. It seemed to spin, throwing off sparks of silver which struck her head and breast and then vanished. And she was singing—not like the chant which still filled the air, but very high and sweet, notes which pulled at me.
Somehow I braced my forepaws hard against the floor of the van, and managed to raise myself. Now my eyes were level with the seat on which she sat. I glimpsed the world below; it was still night, or very early morning. The moon was no longer bright, but ahead, down, there were other lights to be seen.
That was not the yellow-red of fires, nor the blue shade of the lamps I had seen in Yrjar. Rather these were moon globes as Maelen carried, only they were not fixed but moved about as might lanterns.
And it was from that place of lights that the chanting arose, stronger and deeper. I dragged myself farther up until, in spite of the pain it cost me, I could place one foreleg across the seat, resting my head upon it. Maelen did not notice me, she was still wrapped in her singing.
Two men carrying moon globes came to meet us. I saw the white-and-yellow-pattemed black robes of priests. But they did not greet Maelen or try to halt us. only stood aside one to right, one to left, and were silent as we passed between. Their faces remained impassive and they continued to chant words I did not understand.
We passed more of the priests of Umphra engaged in tasks along the road. I sniffed the stench of burning, and beneath that barsk nostrils picked up also the reek of blood. No, the Valley had not escaped the doom which had come to Yim-Sin. Yet I believed the doom had not been as complete here as it had been in the village.
The kasi turned without any outward sign of control from Maelen and we went through the gates. The portal which had hung there was splintered and scored, and in it bristled bolts from crossbows. The mist was now the smoke of destruction. We entered the first temple courtyard.
For the first time Maelen moved, raised the wand until its brilliant shaft pressed against her forehead, The light which had spun from it was gone and, as she dropped her hands once again, it was a simple rod. Her eyes opened.
A priest came to us. There was a bandage about his head, and he carried his right arm in a sling.
“Orkamor?” Maelen asked him.
“He sees to his people, Freesha.”
She nodded gravely. “Evil has been wrought here. How great that evil, brother?”
“Much that was long and long in building has been broken.” His voice was somber, his face drawn, with the deep-set eyes of a man who has been forced to witness the destruction of what had been very much a part of him. “But the foundations have not been destroyed.”
“And who did this? They did worse in Yim-Sin.”
“That they told us. As to who they were-men who have fallen under a darkness grown from seed brought from elsewhere. They have not, however, prospered in their wickedness.”
“They are destroyed?”
“They destroyed themselves. For they did not heed the safeguards. Only, behind them they have left ruin.”
“Those—those whom Umphra holds under his cloak—” she began, almost timidly. “How fare those, elder brother?”
“Him you hold in your heart-hand, Freesha, survives. Others—some Umphra has at last loosed upon the White Road.”
She sighed. Her wand lay across her knees, her hands rubbed her forehead.
So Maquad was still alive; I clung to that much. My lassitude was creeping back. I could not find it in me to care greatly that her plan had not been swallowed after all. The pain in my breast gave me a sharp twinge, and I slipped from my half sprawl across the seat to huddle on the mat once again. It was as if my last small reserve of strength left me.
Light-shining into my face so that it smarted through the small slits between my nearly closed eyelids. … I tried to turn my head away from that light, but I was held to it and I breathed in vapor which was sharply aromatic, clearing my head. I opened my eyes and found that I now lay in a room and Maelen bent over me, a bowl in her hand holding a golden liquid. From this rose the fumes which had summoned me back.
With her was another, and that old, benign face I knew. Once, a very long time ago, we had sat in a quiet garden and talked of life beyond the star which was Yiktor’s sun, of how men carried out their destinies in many strange places. This was Orkamor, servant of Umphra. I tried to say his name.