Lightnings Daughter (34 page)

"We can't put the council off much longer,” Sha Umar said, his tanned face lined with worry.

"What do we do if he does not come at al ?"

The Jehanan chief scratched his beard. "If he and Gabria both disappear, the people will think the problem of sorcery will simply vanish."

"No, it won't," the Dangari said vehemently. "Too much has happened for everyone to forget." He gestured to the teeming camps along both rivers. "Somewhere out there are other magic-wielders who know of their talents and are afraid, or those who will learn of their powers by accident and will be killed or exiled. Those people are not freaks. There is a reason some clanspeople can wield magic. We can't keep turning our backs on that power."

Sha Umar's mouth widened into a grin, and he held up his hand. "Al right! You don't need to convince me." He passed the wine flask to Koshyn. "We should push to change the laws whether Athlone is there or not."

"Absolutely. We don't need another tragedy like the one Medb brought down upon us."

"Agreed."

Koshyn leaned back on a cushion and stared out beyond the camps to the far hil s darkening in the purple of twilight. "I just wish I knew where Athlone was."

"And Lady Gabria. Without her, our task will be much harder," said Sha Umar.

"They must have run into trouble."

The Jehanan chief snorted. "Probably Branth. That fool has been nothing but trouble. I wonder where he is."

"Dead, I hope," the Dangari said honestly.

Sha Umar raised his cup to that hope.

At that moment, in the low hil s at the edge of the river val ey, the subject of the chieftains'

annoyance was lying on a flat rock and looking out over the busy gathering. Branth's eyes glowed red with satisfaction and anticipation. The gorthling had not known the clans were so numerous, but that did not bother him. To the contrary, he was delighted. The clanspeople he had found days before had told him there was only one sorceress left on the plains. He had realized then that she must be the hated magic-wielder in the memory of his host body. Al he had to do was destroy her and an entire population would be his to do with as he pleased.

The gorthling laughed to himself. There were such fascinating possibilities for revenge against the people who had been so harsh to Lord Branth. With his arcane powers, he could destroy these people one by one, slaughter them al at once or, better yet, enslave them and keep them for his own use.

He studied the gathering carefully. The sorceress was supposed to be at this place, but it was quite large and he did not know exactly where to look for her. The individual clans were camped on their traditional sites along the banks of both rivers. The huge market was on the east side of the Goldrine River, and to the south of the camps was the wide, flat stretch of the valley used for racing and competitions. On the point of land between the two rivers was an open tent crowned by the colorful banners of the ten chieftains present at the gathering.

The holy island of the Tir Samod and the temple stood empty in the middle of the confluence of the two rivers. There was nothing anywhere to indicate the presence of a magic-wielder.

The gorthling finally shrugged. The light was fading, making it difficult to see. Besides, at this distance he could not distinguish one woman from another in those busy camps. He moved back into the shelter of a rocky outcropping and settled down to wait for daylight. He would simply go down to the gathering in the morning, when the clanspeople were the most active, and find the sorceress. Even in those sprawling camps, she could not escape him for long.

*****

A few hours later that same night, Athlone brought Eurus to a halt in the shelter of a small copse of trees beside the river.

The two Hunnuli were stil fresh and wil ing to go on, but the Harachan horses stumbled to a grateful halt and stood drooping under their saddles. Their riders were just as exhausted. The Hunnuli colt pressed close to his mother, and Treader flopped on the ground and panted. Although they were only half a day's ride from the gathering and everyone wanted to keep going, even Gabria knew they had to stop and rest.

Wordlessly the travelers dismounted, robbed down their horses, and hobbled them to graze. No one lit a fire. The men dug into their packs for some nuts and dried meat, and they ate a cold meal.

Before long, Tam and the men were wrapped in their blankets and sound asleep under the watchful guard of the Hunnuli. Only Gabria remained awake.

The time had come to leave. Athlone had hoped the gorthling would wait a while before starting trouble with the clanspeople---at least long enough for the weary horses and riders to catch up with him. Gabria did not want to give the gorthling a chance to be loose among the clans. She wanted to stop him immediately.

She lay in her blankets for a time to let her body rest. Staring at the stars, she listened to the subdued sounds of the sleepers around her. She was thankful for the nervous, queasy feeling in her stomach and the cold clamminess of her hands, for without those to keep her awake, it would have been very easy to fall asleep in the warm summer night.

Just after moonrise, she slipped out of her blankets, tied the golden mask in its bag to her belt, and went to Nara. The three Hunnuli gathered around her in the darkness and listened as she told them what she was going to do.

Nara's reaction was immediate.
Gabria! You can't fight that monster alone. It is too strong for you!

The sorceress reached out and laid her hand on the Hunnuli's neck. "I have to try. Are you coming with me?" As she had suspected, the mare could not refuse. Nara would never betray her rider or let her go into such danger alone.

Gabria turned to Eurus. "Please, do not wake Athlone. Let me go alone or he will follow me and die at the gorthling's hands."

You do not know that,
the young stal ion replied.

"I know enough to not take a chance. Please, Eurus."

The Hunnuli bowed his head
. I wil do as you ask.

"Thank you,” she said grateful y. Then she turned to the colt. "Don't worry, little one, your mother will be safe." Gabria sprang to Nara's back and pinned her cloak tightly around her shoulders. For just a moment, she looked back at the sleeping forms under the trees.

While the woman was occupied with her own thoughts, Nara turned to Eurus and sent her message only to him.
We cannot stop her. She is too determined for her own good some times.

What do we do?
the stallion asked.

My son can wake the men in a short time. That will allow you to keep your word to Gabria. Bring
them as fast as you can. She wil not be able to avoid them if they join her at the gathering.

Eurus tossed his head, and his nostrils flared.

Nara turned to her colt.
I must give you a mighty task, my son. Are you wil ing to try?

Yes, Mamma!

You are strong enough to carry the girl. After you have awakened the men, take 'Bun toward the
mountains and seek the King Hunnuli. The two of you together can call him. Ask him to come. The
sorceress needs his help.

The colt nickered softly in reply, his broom tail whisking in excitement.

Unaware of the Hunnuli's thoughts, Gabria bid farewell to Eurus and the colt. Like a shadow, Nara moved out of the trees and turned south toward the Tir Samod. As soon as she was out of earshot from the camp, she broke into her smooth canter, and she and Gabria vanished into the darkness.

Athlone stirred in his blankets. A Strange feeling of alarm disturbed his exhausted sleep, and he tossed and turned. Something was not right; he could sense it even in his sleep, something was missing.

He was on the verge of waking when something warm and soft nudged his face. Athlone bolted upright with a yell, grabbed his sword, and came nose to nose with the Hunnuli colt.

Gabria is gone,
the young horse told him.

Athlone was on his feet and yel ing for Eurus before the other men awakened and realized what was happening.

"Where is she?" the chief demanded when the stallion came to his side.

She left to find the gorthling alone.

"Why didn't you stop her?"

The other men were climbing to their feet, looking confused. "What is it, Lord Athlone?" Sayyed asked. He looked around. "Where is Gabria?"

Athlone snarled, "She's left without us. I'm going after her." He sprang to Eurus's back.

Before the Hunnuli could move, Sayyed ran in front of the big horse. "Not without us, you're not."

"Get out of the way!" the chief yelled. "I've got to get to her before she attacks that beast alone."

"I'm going with you!"

"Your horse can't keep up with a Hunnuli.”

"He can try! You cannot go alone,” Sayyed insisted.

Piers stepped forward, his demeanor calm. "Athlone, he's right. You and Gabria will need him. Take him on Eurus, and the warriors and I will follow."

Athlone looked down at the old healer, and something in his friend's quiet, reasonable voice calmed his wild impulse. Some of his father's cool, deliberate cunning surfaced in the chief's mind, and he nodded. "Al right, Sayyed. You ride with me."

The Turic whooped with relief and went to col ect his weapons and burnoose.

As the Turic and the chief were about to leave, the three hearthguard warriors stepped up to Eurus.

They were not happy about being left behind, even though they understood the reasons. Nevertheless, they looked up at Athlone and gravely saluted. There was a short pause as they glanced at one another, then Keth said, "Be careful, Lord. The clans need you back."

Athlone said nothing. His hand tightened on Eurus's mane in expectation.

Secen, his strong, plain face clear in the moonlight, said quietly, "We were afraid at first when you told us that you were going to wield magic. But Lady Gabria's mask reminded us that Lord Valorian had once been a chieftain and a sorcerer. If his people could accept that, so can we."

"We'll support you before the clans, too,” Valar added.

Lord Athlone raised his fist and returned his warriors' salute. He was proud of his men and vastly relieved for himself. Their acceptance would give him strength in the days of controversy ahead---

provided, of course, that he survived until then. "Come as fast as you can," he ordered.

With Sayyed behind him on Eurus's back, Athlone yel ed the Khulinin war cry and urged the Hunnuli into a canter. The two men and the stal ion were gone from sight in the blink of an eye.

During that moment of departure, no one noticed that Tam quietly slipped onto the colt's back, and she, the colt, and Treader trotted away into the night.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The sun rose orange above the plains into a cloudless sky. Its early heat baked the dust, stirred the flies, and gave the promise of a hot day ahead. In the camps of the eleven clans, the people rose early to take advantage of the cool morning before the day turned uncomfortable.

The food vendors selling meat pies and fruit rolls did a thriving business. The bazaar merchants pulled aside their curtains and opened their booths to the women who came early to haggle. Several bards in the camps brought out their instruments to practice for the storytelling competition to be held before the clans that evening. Children ran and played among the tents. Some of the older boys went out to hunt, while others rode their horses along the river. Five of the chieftains met under the trees by the council tent to enjoy a cup of ale and discuss the possibility of starting the council without Athlone.

No one paid attention to the lone man, wearing a Bahedin cloak, who walked across the fields past the empty site where Clan Corin once camped, and sauntered into the market. For a while he walked aimlessly about, simply looking at the women and the booths. His hood was pul ed up to hide his face-a common enough practice on a hot, sunny day. He did not stop to talk to anyone, and no one bothered him.

After a time, the stranger wandered over to the river. Every year the clansmen and the merchants erected a simple, temporary bridge across the shallows of the lower Goldrine River to simplify the crossing from many of the camps to the bazaar. The stranger crossed the bridge easily and walked up a path between the Bahedin and the Dangari camps, heading toward the shady point of land where the council tent stood.

He was about to pass the Bahedin camp when he realized someone was behind him. He walked faster, but the clansman caught up with him and put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. The stranger's fingers curled in anger.

"Excuse me,” a man's voice said. "Have you seen . . .” The speaker hesitated as the stranger turned and looked down at him. The man, an old weaver from the Bahedin, felt a strange shiver run down his back. "Oh, I thought you were someone else." He looked curiously at the tal , silent man, then took a closer look. His eyebrows drew together with consternation. "That cloak. Where did you get it? The embroidery on the hem looks like my son's."

The stranger did not answer. He shoved off the weaver's arm and started to walk away.

"Wait!" the Bahedin cal ed loudly. Alarmed now, he caught up again with the man and yanked him around. "Answer me! You're not Bahedin. Who are you?"

The stranger clamped his hand around the weaver's neck and snarled, "The sorceress. Where is she?"

The old man's eyes bugged out in fear. He tried to pull away, but the merciless grip only tightened around his neck.

"Where is the sorceress?" the stranger hissed. He lifted the struggling weaver into the air with one hand. The Bahedin's face went red, then blue.

Someone screamed close by. Al the people in the vicinity turned to stare and several came out of their tents. A short, elderly woman charged up the path, flung herself at the stranger's back, and pummeled him with her fists. She was screaming with fright and fury, and her cries brought people running.

The gorthling cursed. He was not ready yet to draw so much attention to himself or his powers. He wanted to find the sorceress first. Annoyed, he threw the weaver to the ground and backhanded the woman with a stunning blow that sent her reeling into a wicker corral. His violent motion knocked his hood off, and the sun shone ful on his face. He paid no attention to the shocked clanspeople who gathered around the fal en couple. He ignored the shouts of the people behind him and continued walking down the path. Close by, a voice cried in stunned disbelief, "Branth! That's Lord Branth."