'Now I will hunt the murderer of my only son. Or one of them – the real guilt rests on these shoulders!'
There was nothing more to say. Fost and Moriana started away. They hadn't picked a dozen cautious steps across the razorback when Sternbow's voice halted them. He walked to them, moving effortlessly over the uneven ground. 'I have something to give you, and something to ask.' 'Very well,' said Moriana.
'First, I beg you travel to the Tree and tell the King in Nevrym what has befallen Snowbuck. The Forest Maiden alone knows what schemes the People and their sympathizers have set in motion against Grimpeace, for he is known as a foe of the Dark Ones. That was why he agreed to ally with you, Princess, because you offered the best chance of thwarting your sister's aim to return the Realm to the Night Lords. Friendship with the People was not the way of Grimpeace, though I allowed Fairspeaker to convince me otherwise, to my eternal grief.'
'It shall be done, Lord Sternbow,' Moriana promised. 'But I fear we will be a long time reaching the Tree afoot.' Sternbow almost smiled.
'Perhaps not. Don't forget the famed Longstrider accompanies you.' His eyes turned somber once more. 'But what I have to give you may solve that difficulty.' He reached to the broad leather belt circling his waist and removed a heavy bag of sewn doe hide. 'Uncut gems. My share of the pay from the Hissers. They should buy you adequate mounts.'
Moriana's eyes widened. By the pouch's heft, the stone would buy adequate mounts for a squadron of cavalry. 'But we can't take it all!'
'You must.' He slashed his hand through air in a peremptory gesture. 'I couldn't touch those stones again, no matter how precious they are. Accept them or I shall drop them into Omizantrim's mouth.' 'You are gracious, milord.'
He bowed tautly. 'Farewell, milady, Longstrider. We shall not meet again.'
A few days north of the frozen flows sprouting like tentacles from the ancient mountain, they came upon a breeding kennel. The land here in the Marchant Highlands ran to slow rises and wide dales like a gentle ocean swell made solid. The land was green and gravid and exploding with summer. They passed bawling herds of horncattle, lowing sheep and goats and flocks of tame striped antelope that fled at the strangers' approach. The country folk were close-mouthed and grim. The shadow of Omizantrim lay long across their land. And many was the morning in which the beauty of a clear blue sky was marred by silent black flights of rafts, flying south in formations like migratory birds. At first, Fost and Moriana took cover whenever Zr'gsz skyrafts appeared overhead. They soon gave it up as unnecessary. None they had seen showed the slightest interest in what went on below. They did keep alert for any sign of rafts from Omizantrim, or any that searched rather than simply travelled from one place to another.
'What's your pleasure?' The kennel master was a long, lean sort with a face consisting mostly of wrinkles. Faded carroty hair had been trimmed to an alarming scalplock cresting his sunburned pate. A small white clay pipe hung from one lip as if glued there, emitting occasional wisps of blue smoke.
He didn't seem overly suspicious of the trailworn and heavily armoured strangers who had trudged up the side road from the highway. But to read any expression on the face was beyond Fost's ability. 'We seek mounts,' said Moriana.
The man stiffened. Her travels outside the City, often as a hunted fugitive, had rendered her broadminded in her dealings with both commoners and groundlings; the man she loved was both. But sometimes she slipped into the royal hauteur to which she had been raised. Fost saw it had an adverse effect this time. The face remained unreadable, but the man's posture spoke eloquently.
'Freeman, we grow tired of faring afoot. We asked directions of a yeoman driving a wagon down on the highroad. He told us you raised strong steeds.' Foist hoped the fat, squint-eyed peasant had been telling the truth. He knew about all there was to know about sled dogs but had little knowledge of riding dogs. The breeder relaxed.
'This way,' he said. He paused to scoop a small pouch from the nail where it hung by a red porch post, then stepped down onto the turf and led them around back of the house.
A wild clamor greeted them. Dogs of all descriptions and colors, stocky war mounts and whippet-lean racers, black and white and roan and brindle and spotted all penned in wooden kennels, flung themselves against the fence and barked madly. The breeder whistled. A tow-headed urchin of indeterminate sex appeared from a shack at the end of the long aisle between the cages, wiping his hands on a dun smock. 'Master?'
Fost pretended to study the caged beasts. His eyes left the animals and scanned the surrounding countryside. The fields, like the road, were well tended and dotted with the bulks of grazing horncows ambling over flower-decked pasture. He saw no sign of humans other than the kennel master and the urchin. That was strange; it took a goodly number of workers to keep a dog farm operational. The best maintained their own herds of cattle to feed the dogs, both to keep down prices and to control precisely the type and quality of feed the animals received. That took hands – and there were only two in view.
'It's hard times since the mountain upchucked this spring,' the kennel master drawled. 'Then them lizards came through here bound down for Wirix, or so 'twas said. 'Taint natural, those lizards. Didn't do nary a bit of lootin' and rapin'. Not a bit of it.' He dug a handful of green herb from the pouch and stuffed it into the bowl of his pipe. 'Then them fly in' thingies started floatin' overhead all the time. The hands got spooked. I don't mind admittin' I did, too.'
He smoothed his scalplock with a gnarly hand. The urchin stood by, tugging at the hem of its smock. Her smock, Fost judged, by the small peaks in the front of the dilapidated garment.
The breeder looked around at the cages of yammering dogs. Shiny beads of moisture appeared at the outer corners of his eyes. 'You folks come by at the right time. I'm sellin' out.' He made a gesture encompassing the whole establishment, dogs, dwellings, fields, cattle and urchin. 'Choose what you want and name a price. I'm movin' cross the river into the Empire. Cain't take more'n some good bitches and dogs for breedin' stock. Dogs is damn trickish to move overland.'
Fost stared in open amazement. The generosity of Realm dog breeders was legendary, along with that of Tolvirot bankers, Meduri-min tax collectors and clerics from Kolnith. If a successful kennel master – and there was little doubt this wrinkled man was successful, judging by the size of his spread and the way it was kept – was selling out at a loss, then the threat of the Zr'gsz was already making itself felt.
They'd made their journey to this point as idyllic as possible, a long holiday of riding through beautiful summer lands by day and making love all night with passion and skill, as if each time was the last. Both knew that the inevitable last time might arrive soon, too soon. Though they scarcely slept, each morning they rose refreshed and filled with energy. To Fost this was little short of miraculous. In emergencies he could go from sound sleep to alertness in a single heartbeat. But without danger to goad him, he generally took long minutes to come even half awake. The fact made it curious he had chosen the life of a courier, which called for agonizingly early rising. Every morning of his life on the road, Fost complained bitterly of the necessity of arising before noon to his companions or dogs, depending on who would listen.
They picked their way down from the Central Massif and curved northeast around the Mystic Mountains. No longer did they see Zr'gsz skyrafts. All traffic flowed south from Thendrun. With the skyrafts went their last barrier to enjoyment.
Or almost the last. With the leisure of hours on the road and lazy hours in camp after dinner and before lovemaking, the two spirits resumed their feuding. Only threats to tie them to long ropes and drag them behind the riding dogs ever shut them up, and that only for a while.