“The Queens do not send out explorers or fishermen?” Reynard asked.
“Not ever, to my knowledge,” Kaiholo said.
“Whence came their new army?” Kern asked.
“The Sister Queens made treaty with the Spaniard,” Anutha said. “Cardoza leads many of their troops now.” She lifted a vial and clinked the sack and said, through gritted teeth, “We will dispense these vials to those who can use them best. In a few days, there will be plenty of new drakes to avenge our town. As well, the mountains and forests are now haunted. Forces flee the krater lands. I doubt the Sister Queens will succeed pushing through the island’s center.”
“What sort of forces?” Kern asked.
“The southwest coast could not have held them all,” Calybo said. Valdis, in the shadows, made a small sound.
“Primal,” Anutha said, “I could not see them, merely feel their passage through me. The Forces that shape nature and the beasts of the field. The Forces that make the weather and winds and roil the seas.”
“The fingers and muscles of the Crafters,” Kern said. “I have felt them on occasion as well. If they desert the Tir Na Nog, then the Crafters truly are finished.”
“Annwyn and the Queens can frighten such powers?” Reynard asked.
“Something hath frightened them,” Anutha said. “That is all I can speak to.”
“All within the krater lands appears upended,” Widsith said.
“And yet that is where we are going!” Kaiholo said.
Valdis drew up her cloak. “Travelers are close,” she said, looking upward.
“Watch,” Widsith told Reynard, and pointed. The path ahead grew like an uncoiling snake and pushed aside bushes and trees as if they were stitches on a cloth.
“From the coast?” Reynard asked.
Both men shook their heads. Anutha said, “I think they serve their kind in the krater lands.”
“Are they the ones who collect your tales?” Kern asked Widsith, and the Pilgrim nodded. “I know some of them,” the giant said. “There is one called Nikolias, and a woman called Yuchil—”
“Shhh,” the tattooed man warned. “Trods are temperamental.” Kaiholo lowered his chin as if staring into the bright sun, then raised his arm, and a line of tall men dressed in dark brown and purple appeared at the far end of the road, leading and surrounding the great wagon Reynard and Widsith had seen earlier.
The wagon and its company slowly closed the distance, a mile or more through the divided woods. The party they could see consisted of three men on horseback, wearing voluminous black pants and high leather boots, purple or red shirts, and wide, sun-shielding hats. One small girl broke into a dance, her long red hair swirling like a banner. Strange arcs of light seemed to intersect them all.
The procession stopped, and a tall, thin man in a checkered robe, with a reddish-purple Scythian hat draped on his long head, climbed down from the wagon. A silver-haired woman with young features peered through a rug-like cover behind the driver’s bench.
“I am Nikolias,” the tall Traveler said. He was almost a match for Kern—half a head shorter and no less. “We are here to escort you to the krater lands. She who rules the wagons is Yuchil.” The silver-haired woman nodded and looked off to the far end of their road. “These she treats as her grandchildren.” The girl growled like a cat and swished a claw-hand. “But for Calafi,” he added with a wry smile, “who admits to no parentage.” This seemed a sort of joke among the Travelers. Nikolias waved a staff. From no clear distance behind arrived two additional wagons, each magnificent. Reynard could not see that they had either drivers or occupants.
The trod rippled along its distance, and the trees rustled in no wind whatsoever—but two more wagons rolled up behind the last.
“I hear a familiar voice,” Nikolias said.
Widsith rode forward and touched his forehead. The young armed men stood glowering between him and Yuchil. They all cast uncertain glances at Valdis and especially at Calybo.
“How often have we conveyed thy tales to the servants in the krater lands?” the tall man asked, smiling.
“Beyond count,” Widsith said.
“The time before may have been our last,” Nikolias said. “All the Islands of the Blessed are in turmoil. But we can only try to perform our duty.”
“I am grateful for thy company,” Widsith said.
Nikolias’s troop gathered around him. He introduced the young warriors. “This is Andalo, with two swords and three knives. He believeth in being prepared!”
Andalo gave them the merest nod, then positioned his horse between Calybo and the wagons.
“In training are Sany and Bela. They protect our trods.”
“You brought many soldiers to Zodiako,” Sany said.
“Indeed. You did not arrive alone,” Bela said.
“There were Spanish soldiers on the ship,” Widsith agreed. “Many died on the beach, in the lively woods, and in Zodiako. I know not where the survivors have fled, though we hear that they have gone over to the Sister Queens.”
“We hear that also,” Nikolias said. “Causing much trouble, though not the only cause.”
“But this lad… I found him and brought him as well.”
“And his name is?”
“Fox,” Widsith said.
“Reynard!” the boy corrected.
“Reynard it is. Welcome to all of you.”
Calafi kept her eyes on Reynard, no longer smiling.
“Rest now, and food,” Yuchil proclaimed. “We shall all need our strength.” Anutha came forward, supported by Kaiholo. “Your scout needs our attention as well.”
“I can travel,” Anutha insisted.
“Mayhaps, but let me look at thee in the wagon.”
Kaiholo helped Anutha climb up into the back of the first wagon, and Bela guided her behind a curtain.
“We begin in the morning,” Nikolias said. “Calybo, Valdis, ye art welcome to travel with us.”
“That we will,” the high Eater said. “For as long as we can.”
First Night on the Cross-Trod
THE TRAVELERS brought out loaves of black bread and cut them with their sharp knives, then handed them around to all. Jugs of water were handed down from the third wagon, and all drank their fill. Reynard wondered how many Travelers the wagons held. Not all seemed willing to appear—or, he thought, maybe they were not all present yet.
Yuchil climbed down from the first wagon and laid out sturdy brown woolen blankets for those who had none.
“The scout is in a bad way,” she told Widsith. “She hath taken poorly in one of her wounds.” Yuchil pointed to Valdis, who kept away from them all, staying off the trod. “This young Eater hath been told certain things, and given certain instructions… That may be why the scout is not offered succor. She is very ill, well past what we can do for her.” Yuchil climbed back into the first wagon.
Reynard finished his bread and water and laid himself out on the blanket under the thin branches and the scattered stars of a clouded night sky, and slept as best he could.
Widsith woke him just before dawn. “You were moaning,” he said. “Nikolias insists you come with him.”
No word on the Pilgrim’s emotions at joining up again with his fellows. The last few days had somehow added to his years and depleted his returned youth.
From the shadows to either side came Valdis and Calybo, and then Kaiholo. No others appeared, and Reynard felt strangely alone, as if still lost in sleep.
The small group did not ride and did not walk far. Reynard wondered at the circumstance of the Eaters on the path, but felt only the weight of his own ignorance.