He breathed thanks that his ancestors could not see him now.
Toren endured Deena's appraisal of his new clothing. He had chosen a peasant shirt, vest, and winter trousers, though, as she quickly informed him, in the warming weather the folk of Irigion would be shifting to kilts. He had also picked muted, neutral colors, though local fashion favored brighter tones.
"It will do," she muttered, obviously dissatisfied, but unwilling to argue further. Geim had arrived with the oeikani.
The animals shuffled near the entrance to the inn. Three bore saddles, the fourth complained about its heavy load of fresh supplies. Toren caught their scent on the late morning breeze. He wrinkled his nose.
Deena stepped forward and stroked her beast's nose. The creature did not seem to mind.
"These things are truly tame?" he asked.
"Yes. The doe you'll be riding is especially well-behaved."
Deer were meant for hunting, not transportation, Toren believed. No matter how big the species. He examined his from its long, flowing mane to the tuft of hair at the end of its whiplike tail, and down to its cloven hooves.
Geim showed him how to mount.
"Just hold on to the saddle horn," Geim said. "The oeikani will do the rest. You'll get used to it in no time. How does it feel?"
Toren felt much too high, but he was a modhiv. "Fine," he said too quickly.
Geim chuckled, mounted, and lashed Toren's reins to the back of his saddle. Deena took the pack animal's reins.
Mayor Korv came to bid the them farewell. They thanked him for his hospitality, and he in turn complimented them on a good evening of tales of distant lands. His final words were more subdued.
"There was a visitor at the portal earlier this month. He was only seen once, but I thought you should know. There's not much reason for a stranger to pass by the cairn by chance."
"What did he look like?" Deena asked.
"Tall and gaunt. Dark clothing. The shepherd only saw him briefly, from a distance."
Toren felt the beginning of an itch somewhere between his ears.
They began riding. Toren clenched the horn and tried to let his body roll with the oeikani's motion, as he had been instructed. Though the animals strode at a leisurely pace, they reached the outskirts of the town amazingly fast. It was, Toren had to admit, a convenient way to cover distance without taking a single pace.
Little Pell ran to the edge of the village and waved them on their way.
The road climbed into foothills. Pastures evolved into fields of wild grass and brambles. The trees thickened. Toren had not known this type of tree in the wood-oaks, Deena called them. The modhiv sighed as the boughs interlaced overhead, offering surcease from the afternoon sun; the shade made him feel at home. Oak wasp larvae hopped inside their tiny egg cases, bouncing across the forest floor in their struggle to escape; their birthing noise often resembled the babbling of a brook or loud whispers of raindrops striking brittle, fallen leaves.
The pleasantness of his surroundings made the itch in his head all the more noticeable.
"We're in danger," Toren said.
Geim and Deena reined up. "As with the cannibals?" the northern Vanihr asked.
"Yes. We should go another way."
Geim gestured toward the right. There was no road there, but the brush and trees left plenty of passage for the oeikani. "How about that way?"
"Perhaps. I won't know until we try it."
Hadradril frowned. His prey had left the road. He abandoned the ambush point he had selected, climbed back onto his oeikani, and parallelled the detour.
"No good," Toren said. He stared about. The trees here stood widely spaced, the ground free of brush as if a fire had come a few years before to clear the undergrowth. The sensation of danger pulsed only faintly, but it was growing stronger once again.
"You're certain?" Geim asked.
"Yes."
"I don't know what to do," Geim muttered. "I doubt Mayor Korv would have men to spare as an escort, and we must go on."
"Perhaps we could go back to Talitha for a few days," Toren said, aware that he sounded overly eager.
Geim shook his head. "Portals only go one way. To return to Talitha, we'd have to travel by ship, as Deena, Ivayer, and I did when we came south in search of you."
Toren was not sure which bothered him more, the premonition, or the realization that his home was now inconceivably far away.
"Let's go back to the road," Geim said. "If you still sense a problem, we'll go back to Greenfield for the night."
Hadradril's expression blackened. The pulse in his talisman of pursuit slowed and weakened. They had turned away again. Twice could not be chance.
The quarry had enough control over his power to sense a threat. Yet, surely, such an undisciplined talent could be thwarted. The wizard pulled a thin cape from his saddle bags, and draped it over himself. He pulled a blanket of the same material out and covered his oeikani's withers. He whispered the words of activation.
A simple spell, but it would mask his presence. His prey would have to consciously know what to do to circumvent it. Hadradril headed back to his original ambush point.
The itch faded as Toren and his companions approached the road, then vanished altogether. He frowned. He did not trust the sudden way it had stopped. It seemed too convenient.
Yet, perhaps they had fooled whoever threatened them, and were now out of danger. When they reached the road, Geim decided they should continue in their original direction. Toren reluctantly agreed. The day waned; they could not remain indecisive.
The route grew rougher, the ruts of spring rains not yet worn down in this rarely travelled region. In one place a tree had fallen over part of the road. Cover abounded on either side-too much. Toren keened his extra sense, and felt nothing.
Late in the afternoon, as they rose over a small hillock, he assembled his blowgun and laid it across his thighs.
At the base of the hillock, the feeling came on him like fire. He twisted.
An arrow grazed his side.
Only then could he sense how magic had been foiling his ability. Out of a thicket emerged a gaunt figure in embroidered silk riding gear, bow in hand, a plain grey cloak on his shoulders.
Geim threw his net. It raced straight toward Hadradril. The wizard barely had time to drop his bow before he was felled.
Toren, Deena, and Geim jumped out of their saddles, the latter drawing his sword as he dropped. Toren moved to approach the thicket from the left, Geim from the right, while Deena took the reins of the oeikani.
The men made it four or five steps. Then, no matter how hard they struggled, their feet would not leave the road. They were anchored. Toren noticed that the dust on which they stood was strangely colored.
"Just a little trick I learned in my apprentice days," the wizard said blithely, and stood up. He twirled the net in front of him. "Now this is a clever toy. I should make one of my own some time."
Despite his banter, the wizard could not conceal his spellcasting from Toren. A waver in the air led from Hadradril to the colored dust. Not only did his feet refuse to budge, but his limbs grew leaden and useless. Deena, who had been trying to reach the bow in her saddle, lowered her arm. Geim's sword point dropped. Toren's hand, which had been reaching toward the pouch of darts on his belt, stopped.
Hadradril picked up his bow and nocked a fresh arrow. He chuckled. "That's better," he said, and aimed at the modhiv.