bank and into the brushwood beside the road. “After you,” said Siarles, prodding me with the tip of his bow. “I’ll come last, and don’t you put a foot wrong, ’cause I’ll be watching you.”
“There’s relief, to be sure,” I replied. Stepping into the forest, I was led a merry chase to meet the man I’d crossed half the country to see. God save me, but I never imagined him the way he first appeared.
CHAPTER 5
The trail went on and on. My guides maintained a curious wolf-trot pace: three steps quick walk alternating with four steps slow running. It took a bit of getting used to, but, once I got the knack, I soon understood that it allowed a body to move quickly over long distances and still have breath enough and strength to do what you came to do when you reached your destination. I had never seen this neat trick before, and was glad to add it to my own tidy store of forest craft . . .
You should try it, Odo,” I tell my bleary-eyed scribe. He raises his pudding face to see if I jest. “It would do you good.”
“I will take you at your word,” he says, stifling a yawn. He dips his quill in the horn, and the wet nib hovers over the parchment. “Where did they take you, these hooded strangers?”
“Where did they take me? Pay attention, and you’ll learn soon enough. Now then, where was I?”
“Running through the greenwood to meet the Raven King.”
“Not the Raven King,” I tell him. “It is King Raven—there is a difference, monk. Get it right.”
Odo gives an indifferent shrug, and I resume my tale . . .
Well, we ran miles that morning, and I am firmly persuaded most of it was just to confuse me so as to prevent me leading anyone else to their forest hideaway.
For the most part, it worked well enough. On a fella less firmly rooted in woodland lore, it would have been well-nigh confounding. As for myself, it produced only mild befuddlement, as Iwan probably guessed after a while. For we came to a place where a little clear water stream issued from beneath a natural rock wall, and after we’d got a few good mouthfuls, the big man produced a scrap of cloth from his quiver. “Sorry, William,” he said, handing me the cloth. “You must bind your eyes now.”
“If it makes you and yours feel better, I’m happy to do it,” I said. “I’ll even let Siarles here tie the knot.”
“Right, you will,” said Siarles, stepping behind me as I wound the cloth around my head. He tied the loose ends, gave them a sharp tug, and then we were away again, more slowly—this time Iwan leading, and me stumbling along with my hand on his shoulder, tripping over roots and stones and trying to keep up with his long-legged strides. It was more difficult than I would have thought—try it yourself in rough wood and see how you go. After a time I sensed the ground beginning to rise. The slope was gradual at first, but grew steeper as we went along. I heard birdsong high up, scattered and far off—the trees were getting bigger and farther apart.
Gaining the top of the ridge, we came to a stony ledge and stopped again. “Here now,” said Iwan, taking me by the shoulders and turning me around a few times, “not far to go. A few more steps is all.”
He spun me around some more, and then Siarles spun me the other way for good measure. “Mind your step,” said Siarles, his mouth close to my ear. “Keep your head low, or you’ll get a knock.” He pressed my head down until I was bent double, and then led me through a gap between two trees and, almost immediately, down a steep incline.
“Cél Craidd,” said Iwan. “I pray it goes well with you here.”
“You better pray so, too,” added Siarles in tone far less friendly. He had taken against me, I don’t know why—maybe it was that jibe about his name. Or maybe it was the cut of my cloth, but whatever it was, he gave me to know that he held me of small regard. “Play us false, and it will be the last place you ever see.”
“Now, now,” I replied, “no need to be nasty. I’ve sworn to abide, and abide I will, come what may.”
Siarles untied the binding cloth, and I opened my eyes on the strangest