tried to lie motionless. With his torn and bloody back, the marks of torture still on his body, he might look to an indifferent eye as though the golderlings and vultures had already begun their work. In truth, he almost feared the vultures more than men. He imagined that he heard the beat of their wings above him, that he felt the coolness of those fanning wings.
The corpse-carriers came nearer. They talked, and he marveled that their talk was like all men’s talk. The city gossip told him nothing new, neither did their jokes, their boasting. One wagered his companion that one vulture would rise before another one did. They stood still for some time, watching.
The fur of the golderlings was soft against Ilbran’s skin, but their claws were sharp as they climbed onto his back. His muscles twitched against his will, as he imagined their sharp teeth tearing into his flesh. Instead, their soft tongues licked his back, washing it where it was torn. Their teeth caught at his shoulder bandage, drawing it back from the swollen arrow wound. No corpse would bleed, but they lapped the blood as it welled up, before the idle watchers had a chance to see it, and they nuzzled underneath his chest to lick the ragged hole where he had drawn out the arrowhead.
Ilbran knew that he was dizzy with fever. He would be no match for the two men that still gossiped and wagered. He lay still and listened, letting the little ones do what they would. At last, the one who had proposed the bet laughed and cursed, and handed over his money. Ilbran could hear the clink of coins, and their footsteps lighter as they walked away.
When he opened his eyes, he could see where they had laid the dead one. The vultures descended, landing heavily, and skipping along the rocks like children playing. The golderlings came and surrounded him. He had been a young man, clad like Ilbran, wearing only a pair of ragged trousers. Only a narrow dark line between his ribs, to show how he had met his death. Ilbran closed his eyes. When he opened them, in spite of himself, he saw a golderling tugging a ring from the dead man’s hand. The corpse-carriers had been true to their trust. They had left the dead man his one bit of finery. The golderling tucked the ring securely into its cheek, and skittered away.
And here came more of the saffron-robed ones, treading heavily under their burden. Ilbran lay still, unable to move even if he had wished to.
The sun was not so molten hot this day. About noon, the wind died down, then turned and blew from the east, a blessed relief to smell the fragrance of grass and leaves again.
The corpse-carriers came and went around Ilbran. He lay quiet till nightfall. When they were gone, he rose up, pushing aside the golderlings that cuddled close to him. If there was still fever in him, its flames had died down, for he could think more clearly than he had for a night and a day; he could walk firmly and not stumble.
In front of him, the white of ribs and breastbone caught his eye. Another one they had brought this day, wearing a gold chain around his neck, the golderlings swarming and tearing at his flesh, while one gripped the chain in his teeth, tugging it off over the silver hair.
The rich ones, they weigh them down with gold, and think it will pay their passage. And this is where it goes, to a little creature with an eye for brightness.
This city of the dead stretched for miles. He would not—could not—travel through it. So, the north was barred to him. When Ilbran turned east, the campfires of the kingsmen starred the hillside again. Westward led only back to the city and death.
All ways were cut off to west and east and north. Southward, Ilbran had seen the dark-green shadow on the horizon. All ways were cut off except the paths that led into the forest.
Chapter 10
As Ilbran entered the forest the next morning, he looked from side to side in fear and awe, though it gave no outward sign of the terrible legends. He had seen trees and groves aplenty, blessed lanara, tall kingswood, dainty spicewood, and the lesser trees that give man nothing but shade.
He had never seen ones to match these. They were huge and gray-trunked, with blue-gray fingered leaves, woven together with dense