"He's really not," I confirmed. "They hate his guts; believe me." I pulled the block of beeswax out of my bag. "Listen, Morlock, I was thinking-"
"An excellent idea," he said, nodding.
"Think there's enough wax here to stop all these big ugly ears?"
Morlock grinned one-sidedly. "Just barely. But I should tell them something about the way westward before we plug our ears. You might do well to hear it, too. Perhaps we should bolt the door so we are not interrupted."
"No." I was thinking that Besk would return; I didn't want to lock him out of his own place. Also, there was a question I wanted to ask him, outside of the boys' hearing. "You go back into the smithy and I'll hold the fort here. You can tell me about it later, if'-we live, I would have finished, but I noticed the boys staring at me with wide eyes-"it seems necessary."
Morlock nodded, and Thend led the way back to the smithy.
"Why do we have to have our ears plugged?" Bann asked.
"The Enemy has a new magic," Morlock answered seriously. "Wax in your ears will protect you from it." The door shut behind him, cutting off his voice.
I leaned back against the shop counter and waited. I suppose it was a long time, but it didn't seem so; I had a lot to think about. Presently I heard slow footfalls coming up the stairs; the door opened and Besk stepped through.
He didn't seem surprised or pleased to see me. "Roble."
"Besk. Does the Enemy feed you?"
Besk's face, not the cheeriest I'd ever seen it, fell even further. "I don't know," he said at last. "There is life in the Silver Stones; in a certain ritual of the Mysteries, we can share in it, be strengthened by it. I …I don't know where the life comes from."
"Did you ever ask? Do the Inner Circles know?"
"I don't know what they know," he said, but his eyes would not meet mine.
"So you ate Naeli," I said. "And Fasra. You and the other white-faces in the Circles."
He put his hand to his pale brown forehead, as if to check its color, and said haltingly, "I …I don't know. How would I know, if it were …If it were true? No, Roble, listen."
I nodded and motioned for him to continue.
"I learned something at the Mysteries, this morning. It's bad news from Rendel's, I'm afraid. Alev died this morning just after dawn."
Bring the stray out, Alev had screamed after the trap had closed on both his legs. I'm done.
But I'd pried the jaws of the trap open and brought him out.
I couldn't leave him there to die, but now he was dead anyway.
I couldn't conceive of it: Alev had been my partner for four years. I could imagine not being a Rider, not living in Four Castles, my own death. But I couldn't picture a world where Alev was dead.
There was another thing I didn't understand.
"Besk," I said, "how did you hear this? There hasn't been time for a baronial courier to ride from Rendel's to here since dawn. And no one would send a courier just to report a Rider's death, anyway."
"It's one of the secrets," Besk said slowly, "but I think you should know. Yes. It's necessary that you know. There is an interconsciousness in each Circle. We share things …Not wills. Each man makes his own choices. But knowledge. We know what the others know."
"Not sure I'd care for that," I said.
"We get used to it. It can be useful. I knew what happened at the Baron's court this morning because many of my Circle were there. But other knowledge came later…."
"What do you mean?"
"It seemed like knowledge. It seemed so real. We learned that Morlock had used magic to delude the crowd, that you had helped him, that together you had murdered the Baron. I didn't believe it, even though …I don't believe it. But the Circles are looking for you now."
"If-Are you telling them where I am?"
"I would not have betrayed you by choice, Roble. Believe me. But the moment I saw you, they knew."
A shape flew between Besk and me-a darkly luminous green bird whose form would not quite come into focus, as if it were wrapped in a dark mist. It flew around Besk's head three times. With the first pass his eyes closed; with the second his head slumped; after the third he fell to the ground. The green bird flew back to where it came from: the door of the smithy. Morlock, standing there, caught it in a glass bottle and closed the bottle with a stopper.
"What is that?" I asked.
"Sleep," Morlock said. "Let's go."
I looked down at the unconscious face of the old man I had loved and trusted. I found I loved and trusted him still. I would have liked to tell him so, at least once, but you can't have everything you want. If I were Liskin, I'd say it was one of the rules.
As it was, we grabbed our stuff, plugged our ears, and got out of there, running up the Road westward past the end of town. I never saw Besk, or Liskin, or Four Castles ever again. But I dream about them sometimes.
The Road ends at the western edge of Caroc Town, which is the westernmost settlement of Four Castles, but we ran on into the woods. They are tame just there, by the town, and we kept on moving as fast as we could. If there were pursuers behind us we never heard them, thanks to our beeswax earplugs. We held a hard pace, going just south of due west, at Morlock's insistence.
"We don't want to end up in Tychar," he said, when I asked him about it. (We each unplugged one of our ears, so we could confer about our course.) "It's a nasty place."
"I never heard of it," I admitted.
"You wouldn't have got any travellers from that direction. People who go into the winterwood seldom live to tell about it."
"Why don't we head due south, then?"
Morlock walked awhile in silence. "We might do so," he said finally. "It would be less dangerous. But we would eventually end up in the Anhikh komos of cities."
"Kontos?"
"The word means `parade' or `dance' or something like that. I suppose you might translate it as `alliance.' But there is a leader, the Komarkh, who has an authority something like that of the Ontilian Emperor."
I was going to ask why it would be so bad to end up there, when I remembered something Morlock had said earlier, about the Anhikh cities being like Four Castles. It was worth some risk to avoid being caught in another web like the one we were leaving behind us. We replugged our ears and went on.
An hour or two later, I had the oddest feeling-as if a voice that had been whispering at me all my life had just fallen silent. I stopped dead and looked at the others; they clearly felt it, too.
Morlock dropped his pack and pulled from it a short shovel with a pointed blade. He walked back and forth over the ground we had just passed a few times, and then started to dig down.
For a sorcerer, he wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty. I had a shovel among my things, so I pulled it out and started to dig as well. All of us unplugged our ears (we knew we were at the limit of the Enemy's influence) and we dug in shifts.
It took a couple hours to lay bare a trench only six feet long and four feet deep; the soil was interwoven with tree roots, living and dead, and we were cutting through wood as often as we were digging in dirt. Nor did we know exactly what we were looking for.
But we had no doubt when we actually found it. At first it looked like a heavy cable, thicker than a man's arm-the kind they use in the mines. Then it seemed more like a monstrous earthworm: it rippled as we looked at it in the afternoon sun. It passed from one end of the trench to the other.
"No doubt," Morlock said, "it runs all around Four Castles and the neighboring woods. This is the anchor of the Boneless One's influence."
"You knew it would be here," I said.
"I guessed something like it would be. The Boneless One is extremely powerful; its influence pervades the woods and even the towns. It must emit talic impulses in waves, constantly exerting itself. But even so, the influence would be intense at its center and increasingly vague and slight everywhere else until the talic waves dissipated in the wide world …unless there were some sort of wavebreak or wall which would rebound the waves back into the wood. "