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Authors: Charles Coleman Finlay
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stragglers to be settlers so he could set up a second village of people loyal to himself. This group meant to get a jump on the others and claim the best land for themselves. It meant that Culufre intended to stay in the valley a long time, then. Lord Gruethrist would need to know.
Xaragitte seemed unsure how to answer the question. Yvon couldn't see her features, but her voice came haltingly. "There are lions-"
"Most of the good farming land on this side of the river is claimed already," Yvon said. "There are hills just across the bridge where one may do well enough."
The woman stepped back, her eyes glinting as she looked at Yvon. "That is what we'd already heard. Do you wish to travel with us? You could claim land also, in Sebius's name."
That damned eunuch! Gruethrist would have to deal with Sebius eventually.
Claye stirred uneasily in Xaragitte's arms.
Yvon took a step forward. If he could get them to the bridge before dawn, he and Xaragitte could cross the bridge mixed in with the others. "I know the way here well."
The woman nodded, and Yvon passed through the circle of men.
A bald, old man with stooped shoulders came up and kept pace beside Yvon. "The hills are better for orchards," he said, patting the seed bags slung over his shoulder. "Old fellows like you and I may not live to see them, but our daughters and their children will."
"She's not my daughter," Yvon said.
"They'll still outlive us," the old man replied.
Yvon pushed on as fast as he could go, over trails he had helped to blaze, expecting the families to falter at some point. But the darkhaired woman kept all her people together, badgering the older boys and girls into carrying their younger siblings when they faltered. Still, the stars wheeled in the sky past midnight, edging toward dawn before they neared the castle.
The ruined beams of the castle hall jabbed against the lightening sky like a tree washed up in a flood, with the rooftops of the little town poking up like stepping stones across a dark river. The Baron's soldiers seemed to have word of their coming. A grumpy pair met them and escorted them to the bridge, where they crossed without question. The oak bridge creaked and sagged beneath their combined weight, and then they were across, and Yvon was standing next to Xaragitte and Claye.
"You're welcome to join us," the dark-haired woman said.
"My-my relatives await us in the mountains near Lady Eleuate's keep," Xaragitte said.
The old man stood beside her, running his hand over his bald head. "Orchards," he told Yvon. "I've plenty of seeds."
"May they prosper in the harvest, safe from war," Yvon replied, invoking two gods. He would have to come back with Gruethrist to dislodge these people later, but he didn't wish them any personal harm. "May you prosper."
Already the younger children were spreading on the hillside grass to rest, lying down and falling asleep. Xaragitte looked at Yvon, rocking Claye in her arms trying to keep him asleep.
"Will you give me one of the blankets to sop up the dew and keep us warm?" she asked, with a nod at the bag.
"No," Yvon answered quietly. "We can't sleep. We have to keep going. The soldiers will be along with their mammuts before the morning is gone."
He took a few steps along the shepherd's trail into the hills, but she didn't follow him. Her head was turned toward the other families.
Quietly, he said, "If they pass by us and reach Lady Eleuate first, we'll never deliver Cla-the child to safety. His father will never see him again."
With her head sagging toward her chest, she slouched up the trail toward him.
As she came beside him, he whispered to her. "I'm sorry, m'lady Xaragitte." They trudged in silence up the shepherd's trail, rising into the steep hills above the river.
Xaragitte and Claye napped briefly around midmorning, the nursemaid falling asleep as soon as she stretched upon the grass on a hilltop beneath some trees. Yvon squatted guard nearby, watching the trail behind
Xaragitte seemed unsure how to answer the question. Yvon couldn't see her features, but her voice came haltingly. "There are lions-"
"Most of the good farming land on this side of the river is claimed already," Yvon said. "There are hills just across the bridge where one may do well enough."
The woman stepped back, her eyes glinting as she looked at Yvon. "That is what we'd already heard. Do you wish to travel with us? You could claim land also, in Sebius's name."
That damned eunuch! Gruethrist would have to deal with Sebius eventually.
Claye stirred uneasily in Xaragitte's arms.
Yvon took a step forward. If he could get them to the bridge before dawn, he and Xaragitte could cross the bridge mixed in with the others. "I know the way here well."
The woman nodded, and Yvon passed through the circle of men.
A bald, old man with stooped shoulders came up and kept pace beside Yvon. "The hills are better for orchards," he said, patting the seed bags slung over his shoulder. "Old fellows like you and I may not live to see them, but our daughters and their children will."
"She's not my daughter," Yvon said.
"They'll still outlive us," the old man replied.
Yvon pushed on as fast as he could go, over trails he had helped to blaze, expecting the families to falter at some point. But the darkhaired woman kept all her people together, badgering the older boys and girls into carrying their younger siblings when they faltered. Still, the stars wheeled in the sky past midnight, edging toward dawn before they neared the castle.
The ruined beams of the castle hall jabbed against the lightening sky like a tree washed up in a flood, with the rooftops of the little town poking up like stepping stones across a dark river. The Baron's soldiers seemed to have word of their coming. A grumpy pair met them and escorted them to the bridge, where they crossed without question. The oak bridge creaked and sagged beneath their combined weight, and then they were across, and Yvon was standing next to Xaragitte and Claye.
"You're welcome to join us," the dark-haired woman said.
"My-my relatives await us in the mountains near Lady Eleuate's keep," Xaragitte said.
The old man stood beside her, running his hand over his bald head. "Orchards," he told Yvon. "I've plenty of seeds."
"May they prosper in the harvest, safe from war," Yvon replied, invoking two gods. He would have to come back with Gruethrist to dislodge these people later, but he didn't wish them any personal harm. "May you prosper."
Already the younger children were spreading on the hillside grass to rest, lying down and falling asleep. Xaragitte looked at Yvon, rocking Claye in her arms trying to keep him asleep.
"Will you give me one of the blankets to sop up the dew and keep us warm?" she asked, with a nod at the bag.
"No," Yvon answered quietly. "We can't sleep. We have to keep going. The soldiers will be along with their mammuts before the morning is gone."
He took a few steps along the shepherd's trail into the hills, but she didn't follow him. Her head was turned toward the other families.
Quietly, he said, "If they pass by us and reach Lady Eleuate first, we'll never deliver Cla-the child to safety. His father will never see him again."
With her head sagging toward her chest, she slouched up the trail toward him.
As she came beside him, he whispered to her. "I'm sorry, m'lady Xaragitte." They trudged in silence up the shepherd's trail, rising into the steep hills above the river.
Xaragitte and Claye napped briefly around midmorning, the nursemaid falling asleep as soon as she stretched upon the grass on a hilltop beneath some trees. Yvon squatted guard nearby, watching the trail behind
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