The Song of Andiene - By Elisa Blaisdell Page 0,71

count us dead when we enter the forest. No pursuit goes there. I did not know where I was going. I was born in Oreja, but I have heard evil stories of that land, too … Oh, not what you think,” he added with a laugh. “I tell you, the stories of human sacrifice are always set one kingdom farther to the south than the one you are in. I meant that I have heard the king now rules with a heavy hand.”

“That would be nothing new.”

Kallan looked at him sharply. “What were you doing on these paths? You would never have won to safety, if I had taken a different path this morning. If you have lived in the forest for seven years, you should know its ways.”

Ilbran spoke vaguely. “I have a daughter, but I did not dare bring her with me. I left her alone where I have lived, and went to see if I could find a safe place.”

“You almost did not,” the other one said. “What of her mother?”

“Dead.”

Kallan looked at him steadily, but said nothing. The forest creatures set up their song in the distance. Alonsar stamped his feet nervously.

“What if you had died in the forest? What would have become of her then?”

“I prayed that if that happened, she could survive. She is past her first naming. She knows the ways of the woods. I thought—I must have been mad—that it was worth the risk. The paths are longer than when I first entered the forest. I do not see how I can reach her now, to bring her out.”

They were simple words, but the other man seemed to sense the desperation that lay behind them.

“Would she trust a stranger?”

“I do not know. She has seen none, in all her life.”

Kallan frowned. “Alonsar will not carry two, let alone three, for all that long way. Though he is willing, he was made for speed, not for strength.”

“What are you saying?”

Kallan spoke precisely. “You cannot walk back alone; it is too far, and with a child to slow you, you would certainly die. You cannot ride back; the horse would not carry you, and even if you could ride, you are too heavy for him for any great distance. So I must go back alone, and have some token from you so she will trust me, and come with me.”

Ilbran hesitated.

“You must trust someone,” Kallan said impatiently. He waited for an answer. None came. “Of all the things I have done to destroy myself, and they’ve been many, I’ve done nothing to give you a right to fear me for this.”

“Indeed, I was not thinking any shame to you,” Ilbran said.

“What then?”

“I mistrust your colors.”

Kallan tucked his chin to his chest to look down at the purple and red badge on his armor, then laughed, drew his dagger, and ripped it off. “Nahil’s man no longer!” He chuckled again. “You could get a good reward, I think, by bringing my head back to the king—but you might have trouble in taking it from my shoulders!” His pale eyes were fiercely amused.

“Why are you asking to help me?”

“Whim, maybe. This is the first time in many years that I have walked to my own bidding. Besides, in the forest, all men are brothers.”

“Did your king teach you the value of brotherhood?” Ilbran said before he thought. He saw the anger flare up and die down in the other man’s eyes. Then Kallan laughed again. “Hate binds men as close as love. Nahil has not rid himself of his brother yet, though he is seven years dead. Look. You do not trust me, and rightly so. But what other choice do you have? I’m not accustomed to having my help thrown back at my face. Do you question all your luck like this?”

“No,” Ilbran said. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’d believe the bad luck with no questions at all.”

He studied the other man. Hard and fierce, but honest, he thought. “Here, I will show you how the trails go,” he said.

He drew them in the dust of the safehold pavement. “Paths branch off, here and here, but they are the lesser ways. It is a wide and fair clearing, with … with lindel trees encircling it. Tie your horse out of sight, and take off your coat of mail. Both will be strange, and might frighten her. Call her by name, Kare, and tell her that I sent you. She