The rider slid down, but his legs would not bear him. Guards, Uwen among them, caught him and carried him, and Ninvris came with him, trying to help, and finding no means.
Lord Tasien, the man began his account, straining to see Ninvris. My lady, Lord Tasien is dead they are all dead the winds the dark came over the river
Uwen slung off his own cloak and put it about the man, who shivered and could scarcely, but for his and other help, stand on his feet.
The rebels, the man said, shaking as if in the grip of fever. My lady, my lady, I was to ride ride for help for mʼlord when it began the winds
Inside.Inside, Cefwyn said, conscious of the men gathered about, common soldiers who had heard enough to send fear into the army. Gossip was inevitable. The men had to know and it was going to run through the camp on the fastest legs. Deal with the matter! he said to Gwywyn. We know the message already. We are marching early to meet it. Damn it!
They had borne the young man into the tent, into light and warmth, and set him at Tristenʼs bidding into Tristenʼs own chair. Annas gave the man a cup of wine to drink, and Tristen steadied the manʼs hands, while Ninvris, all dignity aside, knelt down and had her hand on the manʼs knee. Palisan, Ninvris said. Are they across? Have they crossed the river? Have any lived?
They The man lifted his head and stared in fear into Tristenʼs eyes, and went on gazing, Tristenʼs hands holding both his hands on the cup. He had a gulp of wine at Tristenʼs urging, and only then seemed to catch his breath.
Sorcery, he said. I saw this camp I was not certain I was not sure it was friendly.
What did you see? Cefwyn asked. Speak it plain, man. Your lady is listening.
I grew lost. I didnʼt know which way about on the road I was. I couldnʼt tell east from west, though the sun was up. I lost the sun, my lady. It changed. The man struggled to speak amid his shivering, and he took a third gulp. It was noon. And the sun was dark. And they were coming across. And the winds were blowing. Mʼlord canʼt have held them. They were so many
When did you leave the battle? Idrys asked coldly.
The Elwynim turned a frightened glance on him, and began to shiver so his teeth chattered, and Tristen set his hand on his shoulders.
Where did you ride? Tristen asked him.
My lady. The Elwynim looked to Ninvris. And she drew back. My lady
You could not have come so far so fast, Ninvris said, without help.
He had help, Tristen said.
What help? Cefwyn asked. A King should not be caught between. His men ought to inform him. Damn it, what do you know? Tristen. What more?
Tristen walked away from him and stood looking at the canvas side of the tent.
Answer the King, Idrys said, lord of the Sihh. You swear yourself his friend. What are you talking about?
A Shadow.
Itʼs another of his fits, Uwen said in anguish. Mʼlords, itʼs another one. He had one out there, and they pass.
The messenger cried out, and the wine cup left his hand, sending a red trail across the carpets that floored the tent. He fell, sprawled on the stain. And he had wounds many wounds.
Gods! a page whimpered. Oh, blessed gods.
Sorcery, Umanon muttered, and others present, even servants, were making signs against evil. Ninvrisʼs face was white.
Tristen, Cefwyn said. Whatʼs happening? Tell me what you see! What is this Shadow?
Evil, said Cevulirn.
Tristen. Cefwyn seized his arm, hard, compelling his attention.
Asyneddin provided a Place, Tristen said, and it must have a Place. Shadows are coward things. But this onethis oneis very
Tristen!
The lord Regent denied it a Place here. Butit can find others even here. Itʼs trying. Men in camp mustnʼt listen to it. Hasufin sent this man. He helped him through the gray place, to see us. To see us, and know our numbers.
Tristen! Cefwyn shook at him, aware of the fear of the lords near him, and the priest-fed superstition and the palpable terror this messenger had already engendered.
It shifts, Tristen said faintly. It moves. The trees of Marna are its Place. The stones of the river are its Place. The Road changes and moves. The things that are change from moment to moment. Itʼs advancing. But it much prefers the trees.
What is he talking about? Umanon asked. My lord King, do you understand him?
I should take him to his bed, Your Majesty, Uwen said.
No! Tristen said. No, Cefwyn. Hear me. We must ride and stop them.
Now? At night? Men are exhausted, Tristen. We have mortal limits.
That seemed to make sense to Tristen, at least. But he made none to anyone else.
We will have panic in the camp, Cevulirn said, and cast a fierce look about him, lingering on the servants. Say nothing of this death, do you hear, you! It was a voice very loud and sharp for Cevulirn, and it sent cold fingers down the backbone. Sire, we must send men through the camp, to quiet rumors. Very many saw this man come in.
We must advance, Tristen said with a shake of his head, and in a voice hardly more than a whisper. Nothing can help Tasien. The enemy is advancing. Thereʼs a Place we must meet it. But that Place could become closer, and worse for us. We must go.
Now? Umanon asked sharply, and Tristen left that hazy-eyed look long enough to say,
Emwy would help us.
Cevulirn was frowning, Umanon no less than he; and pressing exhausted men on this advice, in the chance of catching the Elwynim at some sorcerous disadvantage it might be their only hope. It might be their damnation. Tristen knew no common sense at such moments. What Tristen might do other men might not.
No, Cefwyn said, then, deciding. Weary as we are, we cannot. In the morning, before dawn, we will move, with horse and foot, as fast as we can, and still arrive fit to fight. Lady Ninvris will command the camp. Tristen?
But without a by-your-leave, Your Majesty, Tristen had simply left, with Uwen close with him.
That Distance came on him, and he could not breathe. He went to his tent past startled guards and servants.
He had not reckoned that Uwen had followed him; but when he reached the shelter of his own tent, he caught his breath and wiped his eyes, and turned to find Uwen staring at him.
Trembling, he shrugged as if it had been nothing.
Then the shadow came on him again, so that he caught for the tent pole and leaned there, half-feeling Uwenʼs hands on him. Uwen gripped his shoulder hard and shook at him; and he saw the two boys had somehow retrieved the chair from Cefwynʼs tent.
Uwen. Ask them to go. Please.
Silently Uwen braced an arm about him, and said to the servants what he wished him to say, in kinder terms than he could manage, and steered him for his chair. He sat down. He saw that, clever as his servants were, by whatever means they knew such things, they had his armor laid out ready for him the suit of aged brigandine, of all that the armory had had, the one that best pleased him, because of its ease of movement. That was as it should be. And he already wore the sword he would use.