“But there are other beings of voima! Won’t you still be here?”
“Voima persists even without the lords of voima. The change has come before. I believe-I hope-that someone will take over-the same Wanderers reborn, those who now challenge them, or even, perhaps, those others that took Roric No-man’s son. The Wanderers’ realm should not be an empty night for long. But then- Mortals may still burn offerings, but the answers they will receive will be very different…”
There was another long silence. “But what do the Wanderers want with us?” she asked at last. “And why do they want outcasts?”
The Seer shifted as though unwilling to answer, but when he spoke it was louder than anything he had said so far. “There is only one solution for the present Wanderers if they want to reverse their fate. And that solution is in Hel.”
“But there are no Wanderers in Hel!”
“Exactly. It is reserved for mortals. That is why they need a mortaclass="underline" to go there, to find what they need, to bring it back.”
“And that is?”
The Seer shifted again, and she thought he was shaking his head, though it was hard to be sure. “I am not an ordinary mortal. I do not know.”
“Well,” said Karin abruptly, determinedly, pushing herself to her feet. “I for one am not going into Hel on behalf of the Wanderers. And I will not let them send either Valmar or Roric. None of us will sacrifice the rest of our lives for them. You say the Wanderers want a mortal to bring something to them, but that person would come back as a wight, without a body.”
“That is possible,” said the Seer colorlessly.
“There is one thing you still have not told us,” she said, standing over him now. “How can we find the Wanderers, get into their realm to rescue Valmar? Will I still find that Wanderer on Graytop, the one who told you to send me there?”
“He will not meet you there again,” said the Mirror-seer, still in that distant, expressionless voice, confirming her guess that he had been instructed to send her there.
“Can we reach their realm through the faeys’ burrows?”
“There is only one path you can take, Karin Kardan’s daughter, only one route mortals may now pass unaided. And that is far to the north of here, far beyond the channel, in the mountains of the hot rivers.”
“The Hot-River Mountains?” said Karin thoughtfully. “They are indeed far to the north. In fact- I think there is a king there who was outlawed at the All-Gemot. How will we find the right place in the mountains to enter immortal realms?”
“When you find it, you will know it.”
“That is not an answer.”
The Seer rocked back and forth in the damp pool his wet drapes had made around him on the dock. “Then ask for the Witch of the Western Cliffs when you reach the mountains. She will direct you to the doorway. And that,” he added in a louder voice, “is the only way you will reach the Wanderers, and the only answer you will have from me.”
She stamped her foot abruptly on the planking. “It is not the only path to the Wanderers’ realm. But I see it is the only path they intend to let us take. Are they still testing our ability and resolve? We shall certainly go there, go there at once, but only to recover Valmar from being persuaded to offer his own life for beings whose fated end has already come.”
She turned, took two steps, and turned back. “Thank you,” she said gravely to the Seer. “If I ever become sovereign queen here, unless the world is changed beyond recognition, I shall ensure that you have the respect and the comfort any Seer would want. Roric?”
She held out her hand to emptiness, and someone or something took it. If this was not Roric, she thought grimly, if something else had climbed out of the lake and taken his place, then she would find out at dawn.
Karin kept stumbling on the dark, uneven track as they went back down the valley. She had not eaten all day and was almost unbearably weary. When they had ascended, her own footsteps had been the only sound; now there was the sound of another set of feet beside hers.
“I think we shall be at the harbor shortly before sunrise,” she said. “We cannot stop for conversations with my father or with Hadros. As long as they are uncertain what has happened to any of us, that uncertainty will bind them together-I hope.”
She pictured Hadros flying into a rage and running her father through in the middle of his own hall. A gasp of horror almost escaped her, but she closed her mind against the image. If it was going to happen, it had already happened, and she could not find out without exposing Roric and herself to new danger.
“We could flee to Queen Arane’s court,” she said thoughtfully. “I think the queen would take us in-she even asked about you when we first met. But that would do nothing to save Valmar.” She realized she kept waiting for Roric to make some response, but she alone would have to make this decision.
“No, we will have to find some way to cross the channel. There may be a skiff down at the harbor that you and I could sail alone. We have to get up north, have to rescue Valmar before he reaches Hel-if the Wanderers have not sent him there already. Bringing him alive to his father is also the only way to rescue you. We could try to explain that there was not enough time between when you left Hadros’s court and Valmar’s disappearance for you to kill him, but he will not be interested in dates and times. The only thing that will interest him will be his son…”
She was so tired it was hard to think clearly, but suddenly she laughed. She heard the sound of her laugh disconcertingly loud, almost wild again, but still she smiled.
“I know how we can cross the channel,” she said to the presence beside her that she hoped was Roric. “We’ll steal Hadros’s ship!”
He pulled her to a stop, and she felt hands on her shoulders. “No,” she said firmly, “it is no use arguing with me. I cannot hear what you say. And this will work! Come on.” But she did not start walking at once. Instead she asked, against her will, “Are you sure you are Roric?”
For answer he took her in his arms and kissed her. She laughed again as he released her, this time in relief. “If you are not Roric, I think I like you even better! Now, we must make haste to be there before Hadros sails again.”
She gave his hand a tug and began to walk. “Men worry too much about rule and honor. I like my kingdom, like its luxuries-the food is better than Hadros serves, and no one expects a princess to toil! But I will cheerfully give it all up to save you.”
Karin hurried down the track with new energy, her slippered feet finding a sure footing. No longer was she bound by the generations who lay in the burial mound, or by the necessity to hold herself in check in a court where she was an outsider. She and Roric together were fleeing for their lives, and she smiled as she squeezed his hand.
The darkest part of the night had passed and the eastern sky was lightening toward yellow when they came down the harbor road. Roric was still invisible. “Wait here behind these bushes,” Karin told him, thinking that men really were much easier to deal with if they could not raise objections. “As soon as the sun rises come join me. No one should observe you regaining visibility. We want the sailors to obey us, not fear us as dead wights from Hel.”
She straightened out her clothes as well as she could by the half light and took the narrow road down to the edge of the sea. She would know in a moment whether Hadros had told his men why he had suddenly decided to come here, or whether, as she hoped, he had given the orders but no explanations.
One longship, its dragon prow unmounted, lay upside down and covered with a tarpaulin on the shore. Another ship, its awnings spread, floated on the tide. The sleepy men guarding it heard her approach and jumped up. They recognized her after only a second in spite of her rich clothing.
She scanned the men on board surreptitiously as they woke and came to greet her. “Are you coming home then, Karin?” one asked eagerly. “The maid you left in charge knows nothing of your herb chest, and spends all day screeching at the other women. And we have had but poor fare since you went away!”