Sure, they also regulated the amount of rainfall, but those services might only be needed once a decade. Bands of roving marauders were a thing of the past in Dire, but if they became an issue, a mage would drop a tree on them or bury them in a landslide. Then, he had another decade of endless luxury to enjoy.
“Well, you sure quit talking,” Kendra laughed.
“You convinced me. No mage or sorceress will willingly give up what they have.”
“What about you?” she asked in a genuinely curious tone.
It was a good question. It was like a gambler who carried a spare block of sixes hidden up his sleeve. With that, he could win any pot. Knowing that gave him the confidence to never have to use his cheat. My small magic gave me that sort of mental edge. Not having to use it, and not using it, were advantages to me in all situations.
Would I miss that power? Of course. Could my existence continue as it had? Maybe, there would be adjustments, but the use of my magic had been seldom and slight. “It will change things. Given a choice, my wish would be to keep it.”
“We should sleep, now.”
Her abrupt words jarred me and assured there would be no sleep for me for a long time. The moon rose, mosquitoes swarmed, and bats swooped. I liked bats. Each mosquito they ate was one less to eat me. Farmers often placed bat-houses under their eves and near ponds kept for watering their stock. Mosquitoes had become a problem in the palace, some said because of the old moat which was fed by a diverted stream. A bat-house for right outside my window was nearly finished, a secret project in case it failed. If it worked, both Kendra and Elizabeth would get one.
To avoid the pests, I pulled the second blanket over my head, and all of me was safely underneath. Sleep came quickly.
Kendra woke me as she tried to move silently in the early morning foggy air. If she had moved naturally, my sleep might have continued. She had both horses ready, their saddles cinched tight, and our few belongings ready. The new longbow and quiver hung on a loop from my saddle. Her blankets were rolled and tied behind hers.
The road was unseen through the dense fog, common near the sea.
We mounted, without taking time to eat. The city of Andover couldn’t be far, and hot food would be there if we were lucky. As always, the fog seems to absorb all sounds, so the morning was unnaturally quiet.
The road was again empty of travelers. It made me uneasy so as we rode slowly, I unfastened my belt holding my sword and slid the quiver onto it, then adjusted it, so it rode next to, but behind my scabbard. I carried the bow in my left hand—it was that sort of still and silent morning. Sounds seemed to be absorbed, leaving a vacuum of quiet.
As Kendra had said last night, we were going to kill people. Maybe today. Of course, they might be thinking the same thing about us.
I said, “Can you hear the dragon or wyverns right now?”
We rode side by side, knee to knee. “Yes. The dragon is up ahead, but close enough to be here quickly if needed.” She paused. “I don’t know why I said that. But, it will come if called. The wyverns are off to our right, a long way. They are upset and scared.”
“There may be mages searching for us in Andover.”
“Wearing your quiver like that is a good idea so you can reach the arrows quickly, even if you dismount. It is also a warning to anyone looking our way.”
“Maybe you should, too.”
Instead of answering, she changed the subject, which was almost becoming normal for her. “Remember each time the Blue Lady came to us? How did she know where we were?”
“That’s something I’ve never considered.”
“She came to us three times. This might be a mistake in the way I’m thinking, but in my mind, are the dragon and wyverns, but there are more creatures, too. Unfamiliar things. Alive.”
“Can you sense me? I mean, tell when I’m close?”
“No. But ahead is probably Andover. There are three different things in my mind. Small. Distinct. Beyond, in what is probably the Port of Mercia, there are six more of them.”
“Describe them,” I said.
She rode in silence before speaking as if to a child. “Wyverns sound like bees buzzing, the dragon is a large drum, and within all of that are pinpoints of sound, like the chirp of birds. When concentrating, the direction of them is clear, the distance is unsure. Maybe after getting closer, the chirps will increase and give some sense of distance. Once we find one, I’ll know what they are.”
“Mages,” I decided, with no further information. Six and three made nine, and we’d been warned of up to ten mages waiting for us. One might have died or departed on a ship.
The fog began to lift. We’d left the trees behind and the branch of the road to Mercia, too. We followed the main road, and a smudge on the horizon was probably smoke instead of fog. Winters can be brutal in Dire, and each building would have one or more fireplaces, some three or four. All those emitting smoke as homes were warmed on a foggy, damp spring morning left a pall visible from a distance, well before individual buildings could be seen.
Kendra declared, after a long silence, “The three chirps are definitely getting stronger.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
After Kendra said the three voices in her head were becoming more distinct as we approached Andover, we didn’t speak. My left hand gripped the bow tighter, and each person that came into view was suspect. More people used the road, worked outside, and did all the normal things expected, however, there seemed more of them. If the refugees from Mercia fled here, the city was flooded to overflowing with people—and it seemed that way.
Children played in the streets, dogs chased them and barked at us, cats lounged in the morning sun, and cattle grazed. Nearly every house and building surrounded by vegetable gardens and fruit trees. The haze of smoke had stained the rock buildings a uniform ash-gray. Since the landscape was barren and rock abundant, the locals used it for construction.
Kendra slowed and asked a woman carrying a large basket, “Where is the market?”
A finger pointed, then the woman strode off on her own mission. We rode slowly, my eyes taking it all in, not from the perspective of a visitor, but as a warrior. I watched rooftops, alleys, and corners. My mind calculated paths suitable for escape. Kendra dictated where we would go, and how to get there. She would tell me when we were close to any of the three chirps we needed to investigate.
Until we located one, the visions in her head might be anything, including birds. However, we didn’t think so. The horses moved easily down the crowded street paved with blocks of uneven gray stone. Every house held six, eight, or more people. The shops were crowded, the noise intolerable.
After two more turns, we located the market square, and it too was overflowing with people. A vendor at the edge sold fried meat pies, a favorite of mine. We bought two for each of us but didn’t dare leave our horses in the mass confusion for fear of never locating them again. We had no reason to enter the market itself or try to navigate our horses in the sea of humanity.
Kendra pointed to a stand of trees that was a small park for children. We rode there and stood at the edge, reins in hand while we ate. Children played, shouted, and otherwise were as they should be. One asked me to join in a game, and at another time I’d have taken him up on it.
Kendra said, “One of the chirps if that is what we’re going to call them, is close. I want to ride down that road over there,” she pointed.
“How accurate do you think finding them that way will be?”