A Journey of the Heart (11 page)

"Bring the other," she said.

"The other?"

"The pretty one."

Maara had stopped when she heard Vintel speak to me.

"Yes," she said to me. "Bring your war bow."

Maara sent me to get my bow while she went upstairs to arm herself and fetch the pack that we'd had ready for days. I returned to the great hall carrying my bow and a quiver of arrows just as Maara came down the stairs. Namet was with her.

"Go and bring the case," Maara said.

When I returned with it, she took it from me and slipped my bow into it. Made of thick cow's hide with the long, red hair still on it, it had an opening at one end covered by a flap. A carrying strap went over one shoulder, and there were loops of leather sewn into the sides. Maara used them to attach the quiver. Then she slipped the carrying strap over my head, pulled my left arm through it, and adjusted the strap so that the bow case and the quiver rested snugly against my back.

"How can I carry our pack?" I asked.

"You can't."

Maara unwrapped the pack we had folded with such care. Namet was holding my cloak, and Maara took it from her and spread it out on the floor. She put a bit less than half our things into it and rolled it into a long bundle. She closed it with a leather strap and fastened it across my back so that it lay alongside the bow case. She refolded our pack and shouldered it herself, and Namet helped her drape her cloak over it. Then Maara picked up her shield and slung it over her shoulder, adding its weight to the weight of the pack.

I was sorry to see her burdened with the things I should have carried.

"I could take more," I said, shrugging my shoulders under the weight of my own pack to show her that I found it light.

"We'll see." She gave me a stern look. "I want you to be aware every moment that you are the only apprentice going armed among this band of warriors. Even though it's just a bow, people will regard you differently."

Namet and I followed Maara out the front door of Merin's house and through the maze of earthworks. Vintel and her warriors were still waiting for us. When we appeared, the apprentices picked up their packs and the warriors slung their shields over their shoulders, ready to start their journey, but when they saw Namet, everyone stopped where they were, impatient to be gone, yet unwilling to show Namet any disrespect.

Namet approached Vintel. Her white curls fluttered in the breeze. Though a warm smile lit her plump and rosy face, her eyes glittered dark and powerful.

"I will look forward to your return," she said to Vintel. "Take good care to bring my child safely home to me."

Silence fell over the band of restless warriors. Vintel's face went white. I felt Maara become very still beside me. For a long, anxious moment, we all waited to see what Vintel would do.

At last Vintel yielded.

"Send us with your blessing, Mother," she said, "so that we may all come safely home again."

Namet placed the palm of her hand over Vintel's heart and smiled at her. Then she turned and looked at Maara. When their eyes met, I felt something pass between them like a ripple in the air before Namet turned and left us. All was well. With the usual noise and confusion, the band of warriors started down the hill.

This journey could not have begun more differently than the journey we had made with Laris. As I joined the apprentices following our warriors down the hill, I hardly noticed the warriors' painted shields or their flowing cloaks, nor was I much aware of the beauty of the late-summer light that fell over Merin's land that morning. I was preoccupied with what Namet had done, astonished that she had spoken such a thing out loud in front of everyone. The last time she entrusted Vintel with a child of hers, that child had died, and everyone there knew it, but only Maara and Vintel and I remembered that the last time Maara had entrusted herself to Vintel's leadership, she had nearly lost her life. Then I wondered if Maara had told Namet about that.

I wished I could have spoken with my warrior. As we had done when we traveled with Laris's band, the warriors led the way, while the apprentices followed a little distance behind. I was unaware of Sparrow walking beside me until she whispered, "Did you know Namet was going to do that?"

"No," I said.

"Do you think she blames Vintel for Eramet's death?"

I'd never given it any thought, but it didn't seem like Namet to place blame without reason.

"No," I told her. "Eramet died in battle. Namet knows that."

Sparrow looked puzzled. "The elders never concern themselves with the affairs of warriors."

"Why not?" It seemed to me as though they should.

"The elders perform their rituals and consult the powers of life and death. They tell the Lady what they learn and give advice, but they never charge a warrior with a duty as Namet did. It's the Lady's place to do that."

Of all the elders, I thought Namet the least bound by custom. She would do what seemed right to her, whether or not it went against the way things had always been done before.

"I trust Namet's wisdom," I said to Sparrow. "She had reason to do what she did, even if we can't see it."

I did see it, but there was much that Sparrow didn't know.

I had no opportunity to speak with Maara that day or for many days afterwards. It was even more difficult to find any privacy in a traveling band of warriors than it was within the walls of Merin's house. At least when we were at home, we could go off by ourselves for a while. The members of a warrior band had to stay together, especially when we drew close to the frontier. Maara and I slept side by side, but we were always within earshot of the others.

Since I couldn't speak with Maara, I puzzled over everything that had happened in my own mind. I didn't understand Vintel's bullying attitude toward Maara when we came home, but Vintel certainly knew that she had been bested by Maara's calm and reasonable replies to her accusations. That must have made her angry, and it would have made Namet's charge to watch over Maara that much more difficult for Vintel to accept.

While it was sure to increase Vintel's resentment of Maara, it also cast a light on her intentions. Harm can come to warriors easily enough, but if any harm came to Maara now, and if it appeared that Vintel had failed in her duty as she had once before, she would be risking more than was prudent. At the very least she would lose face, but she stood to lose much more than that. She stood to lose the loyalty of the warriors who trusted her with their own safety. That was a price Vintel would never pay.

Once we set out, Vintel didn't concern herself with us. She treated Maara no differently than she treated anyone else. Because of our late start, we camped that first night well within our own borders, but still we set a watch, and Maara took her turn with the rest.

Although the apprentices weren't expected to stand watch, there was plenty for us to do. In addition to keeping our warriors' gear in order, we made and broke camp. We fetched water, gathered firewood, lit the fires, cooked the meals, and cleaned up afterwards.

Sparrow and I worked side by side. We had a few moments together when we could have talked privately, but I didn't take advantage of them to speak with her about Vintel. I never forgot that her loyalty was to her warrior, as my loyalty was to mine. I hoped that we would never come into conflict over it.

By the middle of the second day, we reached the northern boundary of Merin's land. The country there was hilly, its thin soil too poor for crops, though much of it was fine pastureland. As we traveled north, the grass became more sparse. Only gorse and bracken covered the ground, while a few trees tried to grow. The landscape that now stretched before us, drab in shades of grey and brown, seemed a different world from the one I knew. I might have imagined such a place from tales I'd heard, but never had I seen with my own eyes such a desolate land.

I felt uneasy when Sparrow told me that Vintel intended to take us into this wasteland. Claimed by no human tribe, this hostile place wanted no part of us. I could almost believe the tales of travelers who had been swallowed up by treacherous bogs or by the hidden mouths of caves that opened under their feet. If such places did exist, this was one, but in the folded hills Vintel hoped to find the hiding places of our enemies. On the morning of the third day, we ventured into the wilderness.

For several days we traveled without incident. As this strange landscape became familiar, I took pleasure in exploring it. What had appeared at first glance to be a barren place was full of life. Small furry creatures scurried about in the underbrush. Hawks drifted in the still air.

Sometimes we saw antelope nibbling at the tiny leaves of shrubs. They moved with the delicate grace of dancers, and I would have liked to sit quietly somewhere and watch them, but whenever we happened upon them, they bounded away.

Colors were subtle here. In boggy places small white flowers, star-shaped, lay strewn upon the ground. Bushes the color of smoke bore the most delicate of leaves. The morning mist blurred the boundaries of waking life and dreams.

Even in this crowd of people, I felt alone. The small band of warriors Laris had taken to Greth's Tor seemed more like a group of friends on an outing. Vintel's band felt very different. When we camped, there were few friendly conversations around the campfires. More often we heard boasting or heroic tales of warriors who had died in battle. Once, while we were listening to a particularly bloodthirsty tale, I heard Maara murmur, "Whistling in the dark." At the time I didn't know what she meant.

With two dozen warriors and almost as many apprentices in our band, it sometimes seemed that everyone was working at cross-purposes. People who had lived peacefully together in Merin's house became ill-tempered and contentious.

Vintel permitted the disorder to a point, but when a few sharp words became an argument, she would appear in the midst of the combatants and with a few words would end it. I had to admit, however grudgingly, that she had a knack for managing her unruly band. She spoke with the certainty that she would be obeyed, and everyone obeyed her.

Late one afternoon we found a deserted campsite nestled hidden in a dale. Vintel sent several warriors down to take a closer look at it. One man knelt by the fire pit and held his hand over the ashes, then sifted them through his fingers. Another examined the ground, while another searched through a dense thicket nearby, using his sword to move the branches aside. When they finished their inspection, they waved to the rest of us to join them.

"They were going north," said one. He pointed to the impression of a cart wheel in the soft earth.

"How does he know which direction they were going?" I whispered to Sparrow.

"From the depth of the track," she replied. "The cart was heavily laden. I've never known a raiding party to carry goods into Merin's land, so they must have been carrying grain, our grain, out of it."

"Will we go after them?"

She shook her head. "They're long gone now. No one has been here for several days."

I was about to ask her how she knew that when she pointed to the remains of the campfire.

"See how the surface of the ash is pitted?" she said. "A light rain fell after their fire went out, and we've had no rain for the last three days."

We made our own camp not far from the northerners' campsite. Although there was no sign that anyone but ourselves inhabited that corner of the world just then, I hardly slept at all. I was glad to see the sunrise so that we could move on.

It seemed to me at first that we were wandering about aimlessly, but after a while I saw that we were crisscrossing this empty land, going from one vantage point to another, steadily working our way west. After a week in the wilderness, we were running short of food, so we turned south again, toward one of our outposts, where we could rest and replenish our supplies.

The next afternoon it rained. We hurried on, hoping to reach our outpost by nightfall. We would find shelter there, and warm fires, and some hot supper. Wet and shivering, we arrived at last, only to find the camp deserted and the fires cold.

"Where is everyone?" I asked Sparrow.

"There must be trouble somewhere," she said.

Sparrow shook the rain out of her hair and drew her damp cloak close around her.

A few of the apprentices were already at work with their firestones. The shelters were nothing more than oiled hides stretched over flimsy poles, but they turned aside the rain, and the warriors huddled under them. All but Vintel. She stood out in the open, her head uncovered.

"Something isn't right," she said, as she looked around at the deserted campsite.

I saw nothing amiss. There were no signs of fighting. Tools and cooking pots were stacked neatly in their places. Everything seemed to be in good order.

"The stores are gone," said Sparrow.

Then I saw that in that whole camp, not one cooking pot or bowl had any food left in it, and the casks that should have held our stores of salted meat and flour were nowhere to be seen.

"We'll not stop here," Vintel said. "Laris and her warriors should have been here waiting for us. Until we know what's happened to them, we'll camp somewhere less conspicuous."

No one moved. The warriors gave no indication that they were willing to leave their shelters. The apprentices waited, to see what the warriors would do. Vintel paid no attention to them. She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and strode out of the camp. She never so much as glanced back over her shoulder. After a moment, with only a little grumbling, her warriors followed her.

We walked until it was too dark to see where we were going. A light rain was still falling. Vintel allowed no fires, so we ate a cold supper of stale barley cakes and lay down to sleep wrapped in our soggy cloaks. We were all so tired that in spite of the damp we slept quite well.

In the morning Vintel sent out half her warriors in groups of two or three to look for Laris's band. She also sent two of the apprentices south to the nearest farm to replenish our supply of food. We would have to be careful of what little we had left, as they were unlikely to return before the evening of the following day.