“You like our cats?” she asked.
“I have one at home. I miss her.”
“Tell me about her.”
And out of this simple, ingenious request came an afternoon of talk and tales and history. From the story of Tam’s cat, Sayyed went on to tell his fascinated audience about Tam, the plague, and the clans. Rafnir took his turn, talking about Moy Tura, Kelene, and Demira. The people of the Clannad listened avidly.
When Sayyed described Gabria and her battle with Lord Medb, the people sat hushed and unmoving. Sayyed, looking at their faces, thought their interest went beyond mere politeness. In a whole afternoon, not one person left the gathering. Children napped in their parents’ laps, elders dozed in their seats, but not one person walked away from the tales. When he was finished, a low buzz of conversation filled the circle. The sorcerer glanced around and was surprised to see the sun had gone behind the western peaks. Darkness filled the bowl of the valley.
The talking stopped as Lady Helmar rose slowly to her feet. She looked thoughtful and rather sad, but her voice was as firm as ever. “This Lady Gabria, this last Corin, is she the other woman you are trying to find?”
“She is Kelene’s mother,” Rafnir replied. “They were taken together.”
“I should like to meet her. I think we will go with you to this fortress.”
The younger guard beside her leaped to his feet and planted himself squarely in her way. “My lady, think again. It would be folly to leave the valley this time of year. Let them find the trail themselves.”
Lady Helmar did not step back. Coolly she faced her guard and said, “Hydan, you forget yourself.”
Jut-jawed and steely-eyed, Hydan pointed at the two sorcerers like a man flinging an accusation. “What if they’re lying? What if all we have heard has been a tale to save their necks?”
Sayyed felt Rafnir tense and stir, and he laid a restraining hand on his son’s arm before Rafnir jumped into anything unnecessary. Helmar, he could see, was equal to the confrontation.
Eyes blazing, she ignored the rest of the gathering and pushed herself close to Hydan to make her point very clear. “And I suppose they faked the sorcery they used this morning,” she said fiercely. “Truth or half-truth, they are here and they are magic-wielders.” She threw a wild gesture at the stone city behind her. “Do you want to live like this forever? If we can find this Lady Gabria, she will confirm the truth.”
“If there is a Lady Gabria,” Hydan muttered.
“If you doubt, Hydan, then ride with me and learn for yourself.”
As quickly as he had flared up, the young guard subsided, having rammed his feelings against the wall of his chiefs will. Helmar, obviously used to his tantrums, turned back to Sayyed without a pause. “You said the wagon had a red emblem of some sort and took the trail up around the Storm King? I know that path. It goes to a fortress owned by an old noble family.”
“The old stone castle?” Hydan put in, as coolly as if he had never shown his temper. “The latest resident is one of the royal counselors, I have heard.”
“His name wouldn’t happen to be Zukhara?” Rafnir guessed. Hydan didn’t even have to answer that. Zukhara’s name fit the trail of clues and events they had been following since Council Rock.
“You know this man?” Helmar asked.
Sayyed nodded once. “A dangerous adversary.” He lifted his eyes to her face and met her forthright gaze. He thought briefly of offering to leave alone—surely he and Rafnir could find the fortress with a few directions—then lie dismissed the idea and bowed to the determination he could read so clearly in those expressive eyes. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder why she was so willing to help two strangers that only hours before she had planned to drop down a ravine. And why was it so dangerous for the Clannad to leave their valley? These questions and many more trooped through Sayyed’s thoughts. It was a puzzle with too many pieces missing.
At that point, men brought torches to the gathering circle. The fire was stoked, and several people fetched their instruments to strike up some dance music. Like their language, the Clannad’s musical instruments were an interesting blend of old clan, Turic, and individual designs, and the music they played was rollicking, toe-tapping fun. The people danced late into the night, breaking only to listen to a harper sing ballads of the white horses, the Sinking River, and the valley they called home.
Sayyed and Rafnir enjoyed the evening and the pleasant company of the cliff dwellers. It was a frustrating evening, though, for try as they might they could not lead anyone into answering more than basic questions about their daily lives. Minora was more than happy to discuss her duties in the temple to the goddess they worshiped, but she neatly skirted any inquiries about the origins of the white horses and her insistence on keeping the two men for breeding. Rapinor, too, was closemouthed about anything except his duties as swordsman to Lady Helmar. And the lady herself, when asked a question, more often than not answered it with another question. Sayyed found himself talking to her for nearly an hour about his childhood with the Turics and his decision to join Gabria. In all that time she said nothing about herself.
At last the chieftain clashed the hilt of her sword against a gong hanging near her chair and ended the gathering. The people quickly split up, going their separate ways back to their homes. Helmar took Sayyed and Rafnir to quarters that had been prepared for them on the ground floor of a tall building and bid them goodnight.
When at last they were left alone, Sayyed drew a long breath and expelled it in a gusty sigh. “I still don’t know who these people are,” he said irritably.
They found pitchers of water set aside on a stand for washing and beds covered with woven blankets. The stuffed mattresses on the beds felt so delightful after days of sleeping on the ground, Rafnir threw himself on one and was asleep before Sayyed had removed his boots.
Bone-tired as he felt, Sayyed could not sleep yet. Too many things ran through his mind, whirling as fast as the melodies of the Clannad jigs. He thought of the clan cloak he had transformed earlier and remembered he had left it at the gathering circle. Barefooted, he walked silently through the darkened passages back to the open ring.
He took one step out from between the buildings and as silently drew back into the shadows. Someone was standing in the ring beside the cloak Sayyed had left flung over the place where he had sat.
He stared at the form, trying to see who it was. Night filled the huge cavern with velvet darkness, but beyond the stone walls a curtain of countless stars glittered their distant, silver light. The person turned sideways against the backdrop of stars, and Sayyed recognized the handsome, straight profile of Helmar. Ever so slowly she picked up the cloak and seemed to hug it tightly to her chest; then she aimed and strode toward him. Sayyed pushed deeper into the sheltering shadow as she walked on past.
The sorcerer blinked in surprise. For just the wink of an eye, Helmar had been close enough for him to see her clearly, and in that brief moment, he had seen the shimmer of tears in her eyes.
Sayyed walked slowly back to his quarters deep in thought, and when he finally drifted to sleep that night, it was Helmar’s face, strong yet sadly vulnerable, that colored his dreams.
Kelene crouched against the stone wall as far from the gryphon as she could manage and vehemently loosed a string of well-chosen words vilifying Zukhara’s ancestry. Blood dripped from three long scratches on her arm, and a bruise spread over the right side of her face. She glared balefully at the gryphon, who hissed and glared back with equal ferocity.
“Stupid bird,” she muttered to herself. Or whatever it was. Even after two days of being trapped in its vicinity, Kelene still wasn’t sure if the winged creature was a bird or an animal. It was beautiful, she had to admit that. Its narrow head, wings, and the beaklike nose reminded her of an eagle, as did its piercing hunter’s eyes and the bright gold fur that looked suspiciously like feathers covering its entire body. The legs, though, looked like those of a lion, powerfully muscled, sleek, and deadly. Its feet had large pads fitted with razor-sharp retractable claws. The beast had a long tail like a cat’s, and Kelene had noticed that it used the tail to communicate its feelings much as Tam’s cat did. It used its tail now, lashing it irritably back and forth as it lay on the floor and glowered at her. Its tufted ears lay flat on its head.