“I wish there was something I could do,” said Savn. “I don’t know much about stopping pain—”
“I do,” said Vlad, “but witchcraft would kill me, and sorcery would make my brain explode. Never mind. It will pass. I hope. Did I talk during my dreams?”
“You were mumbling when I got to you, but I couldn’t hear any of the words. Then, later ...”
“Yes?” said Vlad, when Savn didn’t continue.
“You said things.”
“What sorts of things?”
Savn hesitated. “You said some names.”
“What names?”
“Cawti, was one.”
“Ah. What were the others?”
“I don’t remember. I think you called ‘Kiera.’”
“Interesting. What else did I say?”
“The only other thing that I could make out was ‘wind it the other way.’”
“Hmmm. I imagine that was terribly important.”
“Do you think you can move?”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. It makes me nervous to leave you out here. We aren’t far from the Manor Road, you know, and—”
“And they may be looking for me. Yes. Unfortunately, I really don’t think I can move.”
“Then I should get you some more blankets, and water, and food.”
Vlad seemed to study Savn’s face, as if looking there for the solution to some mystery. Then he closed his eyes.
“There’s fresh water in the jug,” said Savn. “And some food.”
“I’ll be fine,” said Vlad.
“All right,” said Savn, and turned back toward the Manor Road, which would take him back into town.
Savn heard the mob before he saw them, which gave him the opportunity to slip off the road before they reached him. He was just coming up over the last hill before Tern’s house, and there came an unintelligible assemblage of voices, followed by the tramp of many feet. Savn hid in the flatbushes that grew along the road and watched as the townspeople came over the hill and passed in front of them. There must have been twenty-five or thirty of them, and he recognized several faces. Most of them were carrying hoes and rakes, and he saw knives in a few hands. They seemed grim but excited.
Savn waited for a few minutes after they’d passed, then rushed down to Tern’s house. It was, as he’d expected, empty except for Tem, who was wiping tables, and the minstrel Sara, who was sitting alone with her instruments and a cup. Tem looked up as Savn entered. “You missed them,” he said.
“Missed who?” said Savn.
“Everyone. They’ve gone off to look for the Easterner.”
Savn felt as if his heart dropped three inches in his chest. “Why?”
“Why? He killed some of His Lordship’s men, that’s why. His Lordship sent a messenger telling us that since it happened here, it was our responsibility to look for him.”
“Oh. Then they don’t know where he is?”
“No, they don’t,” said Tem. He looked hard at Savn. “Why? Do you?”
“Me?” said Savn. “How would I know? Did everyone in town go?”
“Everyone who was here except me and old Dymon. I stayed to spread the word to anyone who shows up late.”
“Dymon didn’t go with them?”
“No. He said it was none of our business, and tried to talk everyone out of it. I think he may have had a point, too. But no one else did. He called them a bunch of chow-derheads and stormed off.”
“Where are they looking?”
“Everywhere. And they’re spreading the word, so your Mae and Pae will probably hear about it. You should get on home.”
“I guess so,” said Savn. He moved toward the door, then stopped and looked back. Tem was ignoring him; Tem didn’t want to be part of the mob, either. Nor did old Dymon, whom Savn didn’t know well. But what about the rest? What about Lova, and Coral, and Lem, and Tuk? Why was nearly everyone in town so certain that finding and maybe killing Vlad was the right thing to do? Or, put the other way, why was he, Savn, not sure? Had he been enchanted? He didn’t feel enchanted.
He noticed that the minstrel Sara was looking at him.
On impulse he went up to her table, and without preamble, said, “What about you?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Why aren’t you trying to find Vlad?”
The Issola looked at him. “I’m certain that I would be of no use to them,” she said. “And I don’t live here, so I don’t believe it would be proper for me to interfere.”
“Oh. But what about him?”
“I’m sorry, I haven’t understood you.”
“I mean, aren’t you worried about what they’ll do to him?”
“Well,” she said. “One can’t go around killing men-at-arms, can one?”
Savn shook his head, and, in so doing, noticed Tern going back toward the pantry, which reminded him why he had come in the first place. “Excuse me,” he told Sara. “I’d best be going.”
“Perhaps I’ll see you again,” said the minstrel.
Savn bowed as well as he could, and continued past her and through the curtain to the guest rooms. He found the room Vlad had stayed in, identifiable by the leather pack on the floor, and picked up this pack, along with a neatly folded blanket that lay at the foot of the bed. He rolled them into a bundle, which he tied with his belt, looked out the window, and then slipped through it.
The afternoon was giving up the battle with evening as he made his way out to the Manor Road, only to be hailed by a call of “Savn!” before he had left the last buildings of town behind him.
He almost bolted, stopped, almost bolted again, then turned and peered into the darkness, realizing that he knew the voice. “Master?”
“You didn’t come today. I was expecting you.”
“No, Master. I—”
“You were off searching the green for this monster with whiskers, along with everyone else?”
“Uh, no, Master.”
“No? Why not?”
“Why aren’t you?” asked Savn.
Master Wag snorted, and came closer. “Is that how you talk to your Master?” He didn’t wait for Savn to answer, however. He said, “I don’t know this Easterner, and he didn’t do anything to me, so why should I hunt him down? Now, what about you?”
Savn, not quite knowing why he did so, said, “I want to help him.”
“Hmmph. I suspected as much. Why?”
“Well, because ... I don’t know. I saved his life, and if they find him—”
“You saved his life?”
“Yes, Master. He’d been injured.”
“Tell me about it.”
Savn, as coherently and quickly as he could, gave a brief summary of the fight, explained the odd wound, and described what he’d done about it.
“Hmmph. Not bad. Did you perform the rituals against infection?”
“Not very well, Master. I don’t really know them, and I haven’t any herbs.”
“Hmmph. Then you can bet the demons have infested him by now.”
“I think he’s past the worst of the wound—”
“Not if he’s burning up inside.”
“But I can’t move him, and he’ll need blankets, so—”
“So, nothing. We can find the herbs we need as we go, if we go now, while there’s still light.”
“We, Master?”
“We’ll also need torches.”
“Torches?”
“It’s dark in the caves, and I can’t think of anywhere else he’ll be safe. There are torches at Speaker’s house, but I’d better get them myself, in case Speaker hasn’t gone with the others—I don’t think you could survive his questions. Wait here while I get them; then we’ll go see what we can do for your friend.”
I will not marry a filthy hermit,
I will not marry a filthy hermit,
Such a life I could not permit.
Hi-dee hi-dee ho-la!
Step on out ...
Master Wag, to Savn’s surprise, led them through the woods by paths that he, Savn, had never known. He had always assumed, without really thinking about it, that no one over the age of ninety or so, except perhaps for trappers and hunters, knew anything about the woods. The idea that Master Wag knew, or at any rate remembered, the forest near town startled him.