if Kell had chosen her, and this made her feel glad and proud.
The army was now out of sight. The Jahan trusted her to follow alone. Only she wasn't alone. She had Kell.
The pale cloud-dimmed sun was high above when Echo saw a barge approaching on the river, riding low in the water, carried swiftly downstream by the current. It was crowded with people—men, women, and children. Seeing the girl with the horse plodding northward, they called out to her, waving their arms.
"Turn back! Killers ahead!"
"No, look! She's one of them! That's one of their beasts!"
"Then, curse you! May you rot and die in pain!"
They spat and made hateful gestures at her as they were swept on down the river.
Echo was shocked by their anger and wanted them to know she was not one of the invading army; but they were beyond the reach of her voice. Looking ahead, now fearful of what she would find, she saw thin trails of smoke climbing up into the winter sky. Then she saw a column of slow-moving people approaching down the river path. As they came nearer, she saw they were women and children. Some of the women were carrying babies.
The women avoided her eyes when they met. She knew it was because of Kell.
"So you'll be dancing now," hissed one woman, holding her baby close. "Now your killers have murdered our menfolk and burned our homes."
"No," said Echo, a sick feeling forming in her stomach. "I'm not one of them. I'm a—"
She was going to say "prisoner" but stopped herself in time. She was no prisoner.
"She's only young," said another of the women.
"And wasn't my boy young?" cried the one with the baby. "And did they show him mercy?" She spat furiously on the ground before Echo. "Murderers! Go and dance on the ashes of our lives!"
The sad little procession continued on its way. Echo stood still, her head bowed. Kell came up to her and nudged her chin with his nose. She put her arms round his neck and rested her cheek against his prickly-smooth hide and was grateful for his quietness.
"I want to go home, Kell," she whispered. "Shall we run away home to the forest?"
Kell turned his head round and butted her gently again.
"No. You're right. We can't."
They continued on their way.
In a little while they came up with the rear guard of the Orlan army, which had stopped to rest men and horses. The lines of warriors were now in the process of forming up again for the onward march. The men and riders circling round her were agile and graceful, the men smiling, their teeth bright in their tawny faces, the horses lithe and strong. Echo, passing through their midst, found it hard to believe that these handsome laughing beings were responsible for killing and destruction.
Then she reached the village.
There was very little of it left. Smoke was still rising from the burned houses, now reduced to fallen timbers and piles of ash. Bodies lay here and there, some still clutching the scythes and hoes with which they had tried to defend themselves. The immense army was riding in formation through the scene of devastation without a downward glance, the horses picking their way over the limbs of dead men as if they were tree roots.
Echo saw it all and felt a stinging in her eyes and thought: am I too a part of this?
"So, there you are!"
It was the Jahan, coming up behind her on horseback. She turned to him, and he saw the tears running down her cheeks.
"Why, what's the matter?"
She pointed silently at the burning houses and the dead men. The Jahan shrugged his broad shoulders and looked round with contemptuous indifference.
"They shouldn't have fought back," he said. "Those that stand in my way, I destroy."
"Did you have to burn the houses?"
"Houses? What houses? There were only shacks and hovels here. We'll sweep this garbage away and build a real town. You'll see."
His three sons came galloping up to their father, pretending not to race, but each one eager to be the first to come to a stop before him. The Jahan watched them, his face
The army was now out of sight. The Jahan trusted her to follow alone. Only she wasn't alone. She had Kell.
The pale cloud-dimmed sun was high above when Echo saw a barge approaching on the river, riding low in the water, carried swiftly downstream by the current. It was crowded with people—men, women, and children. Seeing the girl with the horse plodding northward, they called out to her, waving their arms.
"Turn back! Killers ahead!"
"No, look! She's one of them! That's one of their beasts!"
"Then, curse you! May you rot and die in pain!"
They spat and made hateful gestures at her as they were swept on down the river.
Echo was shocked by their anger and wanted them to know she was not one of the invading army; but they were beyond the reach of her voice. Looking ahead, now fearful of what she would find, she saw thin trails of smoke climbing up into the winter sky. Then she saw a column of slow-moving people approaching down the river path. As they came nearer, she saw they were women and children. Some of the women were carrying babies.
The women avoided her eyes when they met. She knew it was because of Kell.
"So you'll be dancing now," hissed one woman, holding her baby close. "Now your killers have murdered our menfolk and burned our homes."
"No," said Echo, a sick feeling forming in her stomach. "I'm not one of them. I'm a—"
She was going to say "prisoner" but stopped herself in time. She was no prisoner.
"She's only young," said another of the women.
"And wasn't my boy young?" cried the one with the baby. "And did they show him mercy?" She spat furiously on the ground before Echo. "Murderers! Go and dance on the ashes of our lives!"
The sad little procession continued on its way. Echo stood still, her head bowed. Kell came up to her and nudged her chin with his nose. She put her arms round his neck and rested her cheek against his prickly-smooth hide and was grateful for his quietness.
"I want to go home, Kell," she whispered. "Shall we run away home to the forest?"
Kell turned his head round and butted her gently again.
"No. You're right. We can't."
They continued on their way.
In a little while they came up with the rear guard of the Orlan army, which had stopped to rest men and horses. The lines of warriors were now in the process of forming up again for the onward march. The men and riders circling round her were agile and graceful, the men smiling, their teeth bright in their tawny faces, the horses lithe and strong. Echo, passing through their midst, found it hard to believe that these handsome laughing beings were responsible for killing and destruction.
Then she reached the village.
There was very little of it left. Smoke was still rising from the burned houses, now reduced to fallen timbers and piles of ash. Bodies lay here and there, some still clutching the scythes and hoes with which they had tried to defend themselves. The immense army was riding in formation through the scene of devastation without a downward glance, the horses picking their way over the limbs of dead men as if they were tree roots.
Echo saw it all and felt a stinging in her eyes and thought: am I too a part of this?
"So, there you are!"
It was the Jahan, coming up behind her on horseback. She turned to him, and he saw the tears running down her cheeks.
"Why, what's the matter?"
She pointed silently at the burning houses and the dead men. The Jahan shrugged his broad shoulders and looked round with contemptuous indifference.
"They shouldn't have fought back," he said. "Those that stand in my way, I destroy."
"Did you have to burn the houses?"
"Houses? What houses? There were only shacks and hovels here. We'll sweep this garbage away and build a real town. You'll see."
His three sons came galloping up to their father, pretending not to race, but each one eager to be the first to come to a stop before him. The Jahan watched them, his face
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