For a while they rested in companionable silence, watching the evening activities of the clan. The women were cooking over campfires while the children tumbled in the dirt with the dogs. Some warriors lolled in the shade of the trees. A piper was playing nearby, making his music light and capricious to match the fitful wind that blew through the camp, swirling the dust and tugging at the tents.
Koshyn suddenly sat upright. “That man is a nuisance!” he said in annoyance.
Sha Umar followed his friend’s gaze and saw Thalar, the Khulinin clan priest of Surgart, talking vehemently to a crowd of onlookers at the Bahedin camp just across the river. The priest had been using his time to preach against sorcery to all the clans. He knew, as well as everyone else, that the chieftains were going to discuss magic during their council and debate on the possibility of altering their laws. Thalar took full advantage of his lord’s absence to try to influence the other chiefs and their people against sorcery.
“He has certainly been making his opinions known,” Sha Umar replied dryly.
Koshyn looked away, his blue eyes vivid with anger. “And too many people are listening to him. If Athlone doesn’t get here soon, he may find the entire gathering ready to exile Gabria and turn against sorcery forever.”
Koshyn had fought beside Athlone at Ab-Chakan and was his close friend. He liked the young woman, Gabria, too. He recognized the truth of her arguments to reinstate sorcery in the clans and did everything he could to forward her cause. The fact that his friend Athlone had the talent to wield magic only increased his determination to rescind the law that forbade the use of sorcery on pain of death.
“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 all?”
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. “All 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 hills 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 hills at the edge of the river valley, 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. All 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 all 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 still fresh and willing 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 stallion replied.
“I know enough to not take a chance. Please, Eurus.”