He looked at her. "Why?"

  "Because the evil stays with me. Because if I stay here..." She shook her head. "Words cannot describe it. This place is ill for me. I will be surrounded by the very thing I most need protection from."

  "What is that?"

  She spread her hands, anguish from the day, last night, all the days since she had awakened among the slaughter, filling her voice. "By the gods, I do not know. I do not know! If I could be granted but one glimmer of memory..."

  Archer enfolded her in his arm, tucking her head to his chest as he continued to stare out at the reddened sky. "I will not leave you, then, Lady. But the dangers and horrors to come may well make what we have seen here seem small by comparison."

  Tess lifted her face and looked up at him. "It hunts me," she whispered. "I do not know how or why, or even what, but it hunts me."

  He nodded and brushed a strand of hair back from her cheek. "I know," he said. "It may be that you are part of it. What if that should prove to be?"

  "Then I hope you will kill me with one blow of your blade."

  He searched her eyes, then spoke. "If I find that to be true, be sure I will."

  Sara began to protest. "Archer, she cannot be--"

  Her words were cut off sharply as the door to the parlor slammed open. Ratha and Giri stepped inside, closing and bolting the door.

  "Draw the curtains," Giri said.

  Archer at once complied, closing out the red sky and falling night. He did not put his arm around Tess again, a loss she felt to her very core.

  "We are hunted," Ratha said. "We came upon a thief stealing from a young man. By the time we drove him off, the young man was mortally wounded and his father claimed that we were the killers. We have been evading pursuit all afternoon."

  Archer reacted instantly. "Then we leave now. Immediately. Sara, wake Tom, if you please. Ratha, Giri, start loading our horses. Tess, gather what you can carry and bring it to the stables. Sara, you and Tom do the same. I'll meet you at the stables. First I must deal with our host."

  The sky was dark now, as they stood in the stables with their mounts, awaiting Archer. The evening was warm, and fires reddened the horizon, but mercifully the wind blew the smell away from them.

  The streets outside were quiet, as if the day's horror and labor had caused everyone to disappear indoors. The countless homeless who had greeted them on their arrival no longer lined the damp thoroughfares. There had been a cleansing of the very worst kind.

  Archer appeared finally and swung up into his saddle. "Let us go. Ratha, Giri, you stay behind and keep your swords out of sight. I will probably need to pass you off as my slaves and the rest of you as my family. Let us try to do this without any trouble, for this town has enough fatherless children."

  Their ride down the streets toward the north gate drew no attention. No one was out, and no one opened a window out of curiosity at the sound of clopping hooves. Perhaps Derda had no curiosity left.

  There were two guards at the gate, playing dice with a leather cup. Only one of them bothered to look up.

  "Whither go you?"

  "Whitewater," Archer answered. "My wife--" he gestured to Tess "--has learned that her mother is ill."

  The guard rose, walking past him to look at the others. "Your children?" he asked, indicating Sara and Tom.

  "Aye," said Archer. "And my slaves."

  It was there that the guard paused, looking at the two Anari who, wrapped in their cloaks despite the evening's warmth, were trying to look small and humble, no easy feat for such large, proud men.

  "You heard of the merchant's son who was murdered by slaves?" the guard asked, still looking at the Anari.

  "Aye, a tragedy that is," Archer said. "More owners need to keep a better eye on their slaves."

  The guard nodded and turned from the Anari. "There be many who would agree tonight." He looked at Tess. "May your mother recover, Mistress."

  "Thank you."

  Archer tossed a coin to each of the men. "I hope this can buy some food for your families' bellies," he said. "'Tis my hope I can bring back food from Whitewater when we return."

  The guard shook his head mournfully. "Would that you could, Master, but I be doubting it. I cannot see how Whitewater can be any better off, what with the crops turning to poison in the fields."

  "Well, if they are having better luck, I shall bring some food back for you."

  "Thankee." The guard waved them on and returned to his dice game, the silver coin already tucked away.

  * * *

  Chapter 15

  Through the darkness they rode west, back the way they had originally come.

  "We retrace our steps for a while," Archer explained when they were out of hearing of the guards. "'Twould be best for any who might watch to believe we go to Whitewater."

  The darkness blessedly hid the worst of what had happened outside the walls, and gradually even the pyres grew distant and dim. For the first time on their trek they filled every one of the water bags they carried with them. Then Archer turned them from the Adasen River and led them northeast, across blighted fields and past empty farmhouses. It was, Tess thought, as if the entire world had died.

  Archer and the Anari no longer carried their weapons concealed beneath their cloaks or bound to their horses. Their swords now rode in scabbards over their backs, where they could be instantly reached. They also carried quivers full of arrows and, over their shoulders, long bows. They bristled with weapons, it seemed, and Tess suspected she could not see all of them.

  Tom, too, had thrown back his cloak to bare his sword, as had Sara. Tess alone carried no weapon, nor did she desire one. She doubted she would know how to use one, and did not believe she would even try.

  When the night was in its deepest hours, there was a change in the air, a sense of presence so strong that Tess's scalp prickled with it. The horses, who had been plodding steadily along, grew nervous, snorting and tossing their heads, and sidling as if to move away from something.

  "We are not alone," Archer said. He drew Tess up near him and motioned the others to close in, except for Ratha and Giri, whom he motioned to scout to either side.

  The two Anari seemed to vanish into the dark. Tom struggled to hold the packhorses, who grew more restive by the moment.

  "Tie them to your saddle," Archer told him. Sara bent over to help, slipping the lead ropes through the loops at the back of Tom's saddle. Once they were tied, Tom spurred his own mount forward, drawing the leads tight, which seemed to have a calming effect on the pack mares.

  "Let us keep going," Archer said quietly. "Remain alert for any movement around us."

  With only starlight above and blackened fields to either side, the darkness was an almost impenetrable cloak over the world. The horses must be picking their way by instinct, Tess thought, as her eyes roved the depthless black around her.

  The feeling of a presence continued to grow, until it was an almost crushing sensation. In her mind, Tess felt little pinpricks, as if something were trying to get in. From some deep reservoir, she found the will to block it, though she did not know what it was.

  Then she saw them, a pair of glowing red eyes. They blinked out the very next instant.

  "There!" she said, gasping the word. "I saw eyes."

  Archer at once turned in his saddle and looked. With his hand, he gestured everyone to halt.

  In the silence they heard a rustle and a quiet crack, as if something broke underfoot. Whatever it was, it was very near.

  Archer called out, "To me!" and moments later the Anari emerged from the shadows, ranging themselves in a protective triad with Archer around Tess, Tom and Sara.

  For long, nerve-stretching minutes they waited. The breeze blowing over the dead plain was silent.

  Then, from their left, came a slithering sound. Tess turned her head quickly and saw again the red eyes, just as they winked out.

  "I saw it," Archer murmured as she opened her mouth to tell him.

  "What is it?" she whispered back.

  "I don't know."

  That was comforting, so comforting, in fact, that Tess wished for the first time that she had a sword. A knife. Anything for self-defense.

  Then, out of the night, came the hissing call. "Tessss..."

  Tess's heart stopped. It was not the voice of her dream, not that that made any difference. Something out there knew her and was calling her, and all she could feel was a sense of dread evil. Her hands tightened on her reins until they ached, and she wanted to close her eyes, as if that would make it all go away, "Tessss..."

  "It seems," said Archer, his voice harsh, "that you have a friend out there."

  "No friend," she gasped. "No friend. Kill it or kill me, but do not let it take me."

  Sara's hand was suddenly on her arm, comforting her. "Archer, you cannot believe she would be part of something that feels so evil. You cannot! I have felt nothing but good in her since the day you brought her to Whitewater."

  Tom, too, sprang to her defense. "Have you thought, Master Archer, that she might have escaped this evil once before? And that now it seeks to take her back?"

  For a second that seemed endless, Archer was still as stone. "Aye," he said finally. "We must keep her at our center and keep moving. 'Twill be difficult, but we cannot wait here indefinitely for this thing to have its way with us."

  "At least," said Ratha, "we now know what we carry that draws danger to us."

  "A surprisingly philosophical thought," Giri retorted.

  "Well, 'tis always good to know what needs to be protected."

  "Oh, aye."

  Tess found herself at the center of a wall of horses and swords.

  "Tesss... come..." The hissing came out of the night again.

  Tess, suddenly fearing for her companions even more than herself, said, "Please, don't risk yourselves for me. 'Twould be better to kill me now and have done with this."

  Archer turned his steed and leaned toward her. "But, my lady, you forget. This evil is spreading across our world. And now it seems you may be the key to it. We will protect you, for the sake of others if not for yours."

  It was a harsh statement, and its dagger plunged deep into Tess's breast. But even in her anguish, she recognized the justice of his words. More hung in the balance, evidently, than herself. In which case... In which case she needed to survive, if only to help discover what lay behind all the death and blight that had fallen over the world.

  The group began to move forward again, Tess at its center. Head down, she wondered why the gods had done this to her. Why she had been deprived of memories that might be useful and dropped among strangers who doubted her. And why she appeared to be the object of such evil.

  What could she have done?

  Never had her despair been deeper.

  At dawn they stopped at an abandoned farmhouse. Nothing was locked, so they entered and took advantage of its amenities. Their pursuer had given up as the first gray light appeared in the east, and now for a time they would have relative peace.

  Tess was sent to sleep in a small upstairs room on a bare cot. How the others disposed themselves she did not know, nor, at that point, did she care. Exhaustion and despair had left her lifeless, and as soon as she stretched out, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  Tom and Sara offered to take the first watch. After first checking everything out, Archer and the Anari settled on the floor, wrapped in their cloaks, and soon slept.

  Tom and Sara sat outside on a bench, from time to time walking around the outside of the building. As far as the eye could see, nothing blocked their view until the mountains in the north and the forested hills to the east, both of which were hazy in the far distance.

  Tom, who had grown in confidence during the journey, now reverted to the bashful youth because he was alone in Sara's presence. She laughed gently, and reached out to take his hand and hold it.

  He blushed to the very roots of his hair.

  "Tom, my dear sweet Tom," she said softly, and brushed a wisp of hair back from his face. "Must you be so shy with me?"

  He was now so completely tongue-tied that she took pity on him and looked away from him to the world beyond, although she still clasped his hand.

  "'Tis a lovely morning," she said. "The loveliest in a long while." Unlike yesterday, when heat had battered them, this morning held gentle warmth, not unlike the promise of spring. "I wish I believed it would last, although it comes too late."

  Tom managed an affirmative sound.

  "The natural winter still faces us."

  "You think...the weather we have had is unnatural?"

  "Surely." She looked at him, her face shadowing. "I know you cannot feel it, but every breath of the icy wind carries with it the stench of the unholy."

  His eyes widened a bit, but he seemed to be growing less bashful. "You are like your mother."

  "So it seems. Slightly fey, despite my practical nature, sensing things others cannot. I must tell you, it has actually been a relief to meet Tess. She senses these things, too, and I no longer feel so lonely or odd."

  "You feel odd?" Tom appeared appalled. "But, Sara, you are so...so perfect!" His face reddened again, and he looked away.

  She laughed gently and squeezed his hand. "We don't talk enough. You are always so shy, and I am always so busy. So we will talk now, while we keep watch, and I will tell you of mv mother. Things no one else knows."

  Tom waited, eyes alert, his attention so tightly focused on her that she realized she was going to have to be the one who kept watch while they talked.

  She felt flattered as she never before in her life had felt flattered. She was not one of Whitewater's pretty lasses whom the boys always sought after. She was built sturdily, like her father, though with a sweet face. Tom was the only lad who had ever really noticed her, and now she would test him with some truths that might send him into flight from her. But it must be done, because she could not encourage his attentions unless he could accept her as she was.

  "My mother," she said quietly, "had gifts. Gifts beyond her talent for healing, which everyone knew about. The poultices and draughts she used were only part of her ability. It was, she always said, her prayers that did most of the work."

  Tom nodded, willing to accept this, it seemed. But of course, after what they had seen over the last week, all of them were more willing to accept things beyond normal ken.

  "Anyway, she did other things, too, which no one knew about. At night, when the fields were first sown, she would walk among them, blessing them so they would grow well. And sometimes, when the fishermen would complain of poor catches, she would go to the river and sing a small song, and soon the fish would be plentiful again."

  "That's amazing," said Tom.

  "She told me of these things, because she said I had gifts, too. But I do not know what they are, Tom. She was gone before she could teach me. All I know is that I can feel evil when it is near."

  Impulsively he put his arm around her shoulders, and with a sense of vast relief, she leaned into him. "I do not frighten you?"

  "You frighten me, Sara, but not because you have gifts."

  A little chuckle escaped her, and she allowed herself to enjoy the sensation of being held, of resting her cheek on a strong chest. Because, for all that he was still a stripling, Tom's work with his father had built a great deal of strength in his body. Strength that was comforting.

  "I'm sure," he said, "that you'll find your gifts when the time is right. And perhaps I'll find mine."

  She looked up at him. "You have gifts?"

  "I do not know. I know only that I am not meant to be a gatekeeper for the rest of my days."

  She nodded, her eyes holding his. "I believe that, Tom. Greater things lie ahead of you."

  Somehow, as if magic filled the air and compelled them, their faces drew closer until their lips met. The first touch was tentative, uncertain, but then Tom's other arm closed around her and their kiss deepened, as they learned together the first lessons of love.

  Wildness grew within Sara, and she wanted things she could hardly name. Wanted his hands to move over her, wanted her hands to move over him.

  At that moment they were startled apart by a boom of thunder louder than any they had ever heard. It rolled on and on beneath a blue sky, causing the very air to vibrate, causing the ground beneath them to tremble and the house behind them to shake.

  They both leapt to their feet and looked around. In an instant they were joined by Archer and the Anari.

  "There!" Tom cried, pointing to the western mountains.

  A plume of smoke so huge that it could be seen even at this great distance rose from a peak that had once been snowcapped.

  "By the gods "breathed Ratha. "It's Moranir, Earth's Root!"

  Archer nodded. "So it is. It rumbles for the first time in..." He shrugged. "I cannot remember anymore how long it has been."

  "Aye," said Giri, his tone altered. "'Tis part of the great prophecy."

  "Prophecy?" asked Tom.

  "Aye." Giri's voice fell into a singsong rhythm.

  "The Earth Root trembles, smoke and fire

  Awash upon the peace of dreams

  Where evil sleeps amid its pyre

  Life unbearing, life uncaring

  Rises in its patient screams.

  The firstborn son of Firstborn king,

  Alight upon the land of old

  The sword within his hand will sing

  Fear unbearing, fear uncaring

  Rises raging hard and bold.

  White Lady lost is Weaver found

  Adrift within a war of night

  To move within the space of sound

  Time uncaring, time unbearing,

  Rises glowing inner light.

  The foundling son will see beyond

  Asleep within a heart unknown

  To see the ripples on the pond

  Speech uncaring, speech unbearing,

  Rises with a sight not shown.

  The darkling ones will then be free

  Alive within a land of blood