backs now, and Maerad was tiring. Cadvan kept the pace fast, and she was by no means used to this punishing trekking, no matter how trained she was for hard labor. She was too proud to ask him to slow down, and gritted her teeth. She was beginning to hate his straight, unbending back, always before her, always unforgiving. There were still hours to go before sunset, when presumably they would stop, although it was quite possible that Cadvan would insist they keep going through the night. She had just swapped one tyrant for another.... When they got to this place they were going, Norloch or whatever it was called, maybe she could find her own way through the world; but for the moment she was stuck with him. Sweat trickled down her face. She was thirsty, and Cadvan had the waterbag.
"We're making good pace," said Cadvan, turning at last. Maerad scowled at him, and he looked surprised. "Are you still angry? Put anger aside, child. It's no use."
"I'm not a child, I said," said Maerad sullenly. "Stop treating me like an idiot."
"If you are not a child, don't behave like one," Cadvan snapped. He turned to move off, then stopped, sighing, and turned back to her, holding out his hand. "Maerad, this is ridiculous. I'm sorry. I'm used to traveling alone. If I have been less than courteous to you, forgive me. I'm tired, and we have a long way to go unhoused. And this place worries me; I don't want to be out in the open tonight. Let's stop this bickering, yes?"
He held out his hand, and slowly Maerad took it and nodded, swallowing. She felt ungracious, hot, and sulky under Cadvan's grave gaze.
"I need your help," he said. "Maerad, be sure there are things that I will tell you, when it is the right time, and that I don't tell you now because I can't bear to, not because I think little of you. And there are other things I can't tell you, because I may not."
"As you like," said Maerad. Suddenly she didn't care. Let him have his secrets.
He gestured southward. "I want to get to a place I knowbefore nightfall," he said. "It's not a protection, like the Irihel, but it will be safer than the open. It's still a league or more hence, and the afternoon is half gone. That's why I hurry."
"Can I have a drink of water, please, before we start again?" asked Maerad.
He pulled the waterbag out of his pack and handed it to her, drinking some himself. Then they began their trekking again.
Cadvan led them closer to the mountains, and toward nightfall began to steer toward what looked like a spike or a standing stone set high on a small, oddly rounded hill. As they neared it, Maerad saw it was a ruin, bare even of moss, with empty slits for windows. It was getting late; the sun already threw the long shadows of the mountains over them, and Maerad could feel the chill of early dew. The land was now completely silent, and it frightened her; she felt as if the unseen hunt was drawing in, crouching, preparing for attack. She thought she would like it better if she could see what tracked them. This invisible stalking was unnerving.
As they walked up the hill, slipping a little on the smooth turf, she asked what the ruin was.
"It used to be a guardhouse," answered Cadvan. "Nothing else stands here but this. We did well to make it by now."
"What did it guard?" asked Maerad.
"A great city," Cadvan said. "Its name is now long forgotten. Before the Silence this was a rich and populous country. The Nameless razed even the memory of this place. He took all its palaces and gardens down stone by stone, save this tower. Perhaps it had a use for him."
They passed under a thick granite lintel into the roofless ruin. It had been a small tower, about fourteen feet square, and once a stair had led to a lookout high above. For the most part the walls, made of huge stones cunningly fitted together withoutcement of any kind, still stood high—although the roof had collapsed and the stairs and floors had long rotted, leaving the marks of fireplaces high on the walls
"We're making good pace," said Cadvan, turning at last. Maerad scowled at him, and he looked surprised. "Are you still angry? Put anger aside, child. It's no use."
"I'm not a child, I said," said Maerad sullenly. "Stop treating me like an idiot."
"If you are not a child, don't behave like one," Cadvan snapped. He turned to move off, then stopped, sighing, and turned back to her, holding out his hand. "Maerad, this is ridiculous. I'm sorry. I'm used to traveling alone. If I have been less than courteous to you, forgive me. I'm tired, and we have a long way to go unhoused. And this place worries me; I don't want to be out in the open tonight. Let's stop this bickering, yes?"
He held out his hand, and slowly Maerad took it and nodded, swallowing. She felt ungracious, hot, and sulky under Cadvan's grave gaze.
"I need your help," he said. "Maerad, be sure there are things that I will tell you, when it is the right time, and that I don't tell you now because I can't bear to, not because I think little of you. And there are other things I can't tell you, because I may not."
"As you like," said Maerad. Suddenly she didn't care. Let him have his secrets.
He gestured southward. "I want to get to a place I knowbefore nightfall," he said. "It's not a protection, like the Irihel, but it will be safer than the open. It's still a league or more hence, and the afternoon is half gone. That's why I hurry."
"Can I have a drink of water, please, before we start again?" asked Maerad.
He pulled the waterbag out of his pack and handed it to her, drinking some himself. Then they began their trekking again.
Cadvan led them closer to the mountains, and toward nightfall began to steer toward what looked like a spike or a standing stone set high on a small, oddly rounded hill. As they neared it, Maerad saw it was a ruin, bare even of moss, with empty slits for windows. It was getting late; the sun already threw the long shadows of the mountains over them, and Maerad could feel the chill of early dew. The land was now completely silent, and it frightened her; she felt as if the unseen hunt was drawing in, crouching, preparing for attack. She thought she would like it better if she could see what tracked them. This invisible stalking was unnerving.
As they walked up the hill, slipping a little on the smooth turf, she asked what the ruin was.
"It used to be a guardhouse," answered Cadvan. "Nothing else stands here but this. We did well to make it by now."
"What did it guard?" asked Maerad.
"A great city," Cadvan said. "Its name is now long forgotten. Before the Silence this was a rich and populous country. The Nameless razed even the memory of this place. He took all its palaces and gardens down stone by stone, save this tower. Perhaps it had a use for him."
They passed under a thick granite lintel into the roofless ruin. It had been a small tower, about fourteen feet square, and once a stair had led to a lookout high above. For the most part the walls, made of huge stones cunningly fitted together withoutcement of any kind, still stood high—although the roof had collapsed and the stairs and floors had long rotted, leaving the marks of fireplaces high on the walls
Similar Books
The Bitter Road to Freedom: The Human Cost of Allied Victory in World War II Europe
William I. Hitchcock
