“Oberon came to regret his trick and his curse. Many times have the paths of Herla and Oberon crossed, and always it has been a grim meeting.”
“And now these horrors have taken an interest in us?” asked Brand in dismay. “Why? Why is the Dark Bard here?”
“That I do not know,” replied Gudrin.
“So the bard is one of Herla's coursers, Talespinner?” asked Corbin thoughtfully, “and if any of the Wild Hunt step down from their mounts they will fall to dust. Perhaps all we need to do is coax them to alight.”
“Ah, a fair assessment, Corbin. But few have managed to get any of the Wild Hunt to leave the backs of their horses. The bard in particular is tenacious. He too was cursed by the Faerie to live in death, to walk the Earth undying. He too, was once mortal, and lives on through the strength of his vengeful will. He is unusual in that he can be apart from Herla and his hound and still exist.”
“Are there other agents like him?” asked Corbin.
“Aye, several, but it would not be good to speak more of them now.”
With a ritual of movements, Gudrin quietly closed her book, fastening the clasp and testing it. She then rewrapped the book in the waxed paper package and slid it comfortably under her arm.
The River Folk were quiet, each thinking his or her own thoughts for a time. Telyn was the first to speak. “Herla and his coursers are nightmares. But the Faerie, they seem at once wonderful and terrible.”
“They are,” said Gudrin, speaking as one would from experience. “They are both joyful and sad, young and ancient. It is beyond mortals to truly understand them.”
“It would seem,” said Corbin thoughtfully. “That our judgment of their actions should be based upon whether or not they benefit us.”
“This is one way to view them,” Gudrin admitted with a shrug.
“What about the Dark Bard? How did Herla meet him and enlist his aid?” asked Telyn.
“I want to know more of the merlings,” Jak interrupted, sounding disturbed. “How do they live? Where did they come from?”
“What interests me is the nature of these shades that were once human and seem to have taken an interest in us River Folk. You must tell us more about them,” said Brand.
Gudrin held up her hand. “Those are all other stories, which I will tell you some other time. Now we grow close to Stone Island, if I'm not mistaken.”
To the surprise of the River Folk, she was right. They rounded a bend in the great Berrywine river and the granite walls of Stone Island hove into view. Soon they busied themselves with the approach to the harbor.
This time, since the feast of the Harvest Moon was to be held tonight, there was no space at the public docks. They were forced to beach the skiff and drag it ashore and tie it to a gnarled old pine tree so that it wouldn't drift away. All of them came splashing ashore, carrying their packs and the weapons they had brought with them. Brand felt rather silly carrying his woodaxe. He exchanged glances with Corbin and could tell that he felt the same.
“Perhaps we should leave these in the boat,” suggested Brand, lifting the axe to Jak. Before his brother could reply, however, Modi stepped close to Brand and laid one of his thick hands on Brand's arm.
“Keep it with you.”
Brand looked at the warrior's huge face. He could find no mockery there, nor any humor of any kind. All he could do was nod.
They all marched up the lane to Riverton under the watchful eyes of those Hoots and Silures that were not away working. For the most part, they were elderly men and women, beating half-heartedly at filthy rugs, or more likely, rocking in their rocking chairs and sucking on cheap clay pipes. The stares were more than unfriendly, they were shocked and downright distrustful. Brand could all but hear their thoughts: Now those Rabing boys are consorting with Fobs and Outsiders! Even Battleaxe Folk, no less! They should change their names from Rabing to Rabble! Huh!
Chapter Fifteen
It was a long walk uphill, but soon they came to the main cobbled street of Riverton. They halted at the Spotted Hog where they had had lunch just the day before. It seemed like a week had passed since then to Brand.
“We must find Uncle Tylag and Constable Hirck and tell him about the stolen boat and Arlon's disappearance,” said Jak.
“Yes,” agreed Brand, “Uncle Tylag used to be the chief of the Riverton Constabulary, he'll know what to do.”
After a short discussion, they decided that Jak, Modi and Gudrin would report to the constable, while Brand and Corbin would find Tylag. As Brand had no doubt she would, Telyn wished to accompany the talespinner. They all agreed to meet up at the common, where most of the town would be in any case.
“Don't forget about our business, Brand,” Telyn hissed to him as the two groups parted. She looked Corbin up and down critically. “You can come along as well, since I can see that you've wheedled the story out of Brand.”
Brand and Corbin exchanged grins as they went into the Spotted Hog, deciding to check there first. Inside, one thing led to another, and Corbin was soon ordering a large quantity of food for lunch. Brand rolled his eyes, but didn't refuse the plate of smoked fish and fresh bread placed before him.
“She knew immediately,” Corbin said when he'd finished stuffing his lunch away.
“Of course,” replied Brand. “I never doubted that she would.”
“I think I know what you see in that girl.”
“And what would that be?”
“The fact that she can see right through you. It's enough to intrigue any thinking man.”
Brand kept his opinions about Telyn to himself and finished his plate quickly. He noted that a fire was going now in the stone hearth at the back wall of the common room. Winter was upon them early this year. He knew from years of experience that Innkeeper Blunner would keep the flames going all day, everyday, until spring.
“Well,” said Corbin after he'd finished a mug of warm mead. “I think it's clear that my father isn't here.”
Brand agreed, grinning, and the two of them settled their accounts and stepped out into the street again. The snow had melted off by now, and the sun was even shining weakly. It was good to walk on cobblestones instead of slush and mud.
All of Riverton was bustling in anticipation of tonight's feast. A Mari Lwyd parade came up behind them, bells jangling and criers bawling for all to beware. Remembering when it had been their year to carry the Mari Lwyd, they stepped out of the way into the entryway of Yudo the Tinsmith's shop and watched the procession.
First came the criers, girls all, wearing white dresses with wings made of sticks and gauze. Then came the smaller boys, hopping and leaping with agility, each wearing a top hat and a waistcoat of bright green, yellow or crimson and swinging their canes at the crowds with mock ferocity. Next came the huntsmen themselves, boys and girls nearly as old as Brand and Corbin. First came the biggest of the boys, bearing the Mari Lwyd itself, the ancient symbol of Herla, which consisted of a horse's skull draped with white cloth and decorated with rosettes and colored ribbons. The eyes were of bottle-glass and the antlers were those of a stag killed long ago in the Deepwood. Behind this boy came the other coursers, riding mock horses of white or black.
Brand watched the procession go by, and for the first time felt some of the old excitement of the Harvest Moon feast run through him. “The children think it's all a game, but there they are, imitating Herla at the head of the Wild Hunt. But perhaps I shouldn't mention that name aloud…”
“I remember our year,” said Corbin in a thoughtful voice. “You bore the Mari Lwyd because of your great height, and I was one of your coursers.”
“To think that tonight we may catch sight of what we were playing at just a few years ago,” said Brand. “The whole idea is mad. We must try to stop Telyn. I have no interest in being chased down by Herla and skinned to make new boots and cloaks for his coursers, if the tales are to be believed.”