He said, “Trebizar is our capital, where the Raethe sits.” I did not properly comprehend this talk of a council: I told him so.
He said, “We’ve no Lord Protector in Ur-Dharbek, neither koryphons, nor aeldors, nor churchmen. We live free here, and the Raethe is our government.”
I coughed ale, I was so surprised. I asked him, “Do you not fight, then? Are there not rivals for power?”
“Our fight,” he gave me back, with such solemnity I thought at first he jested, “is for freedom alone. The freedom of all Changed to live as they will, not as servitors but freemen, equal to any.”
I nodded slowly, realizing he was entirely earnest. He said, “I’d thought you saw this, Daviot. Urt claims it so, and Lan.”
I turned the bracelet around my wrist. Surprised anew, I said, “Urt? You’ve word of Urt?”
“Urt’s in Trebizar,” he said, as if this were not at all surprising. Then chuckled as I gaped. “He crossed the Slammerkin and now dwells in Trebizar. He’s a seat in the Raethe.”
That Urt should find prominence did not surprise me. That he was hale, and I should before too long meet him, delighted me. But there were other considerations I could not overlook: I gestured at Rwyan and said, “Shall you take off that cursed necklace now?”
Ayl’s smile faded, his expression become grave. He turned his gaze on Rwyan and asked her, “Were it removed, what should you do?”
She said, “My best to return to home. I’ve a duty there with the Great Coming imminent.”
I deemed that needlessly honest, but Ayl appeared pleased with her candor. He ducked his head and said, “Lady, I admire your integrity. But we’ve all a duty, no? And mine is to deliver you safe to Trebizar.”
I asked him bluntly, “Why?”
He said, “The Raethe shall explain.”
“And take off the necklace?” I asked.
“Likely,” he replied. “I think it may be safely removed there.”
“Why there?” I demanded. “But not here?”
At that he smiled, and tapped his nose, and would give me no more explanation. I thought of all I’d heard, all I’d wondered and surmised, of crystals and magic.
“And what of Tezdal?” Rwyan asked.
He said, “You shall all be safe. No harm shall come you, do you but accede to the Council.”
“Accede?” Rwyan frowned and found my hand. “What does that mean?”
“The Raethe shall explain,” Ayl told her. “You’ll learn their wishes soon enough.”
And with that we must be satisfied, though I liked not the sound of it. Nor Rwyan, whose fingers clenched tight on mine as the bull-bred Changed pushed back his chair and bade us remain.
We could not have easily done otherwise, for his fellow crewmen were there and watched us as he quit the alehouse. They offered no overt hostility, but still I had the feeling we’d be soon enough constrained did we disobey. I felt confident we stood in no immediate danger: I believed Ayl in that, but still there remained the reason for our kidnap. Also, I was greatly intrigued by all Ayl had said. Clearly, Ur-Dharbek was not the barbaric wasteland we Dhar imagined but a country civilized and organized. I could not deny I was curious to observe this place at first hand.
Which opportunity came soon enough.
Ayl reappeared, summoning us out, and when we stepped again into the square, I saw a wagon drawn up. It was a sizable vehicle with four deep-chested bay horses hitched to the pole, the bed surmounted by a wattle cage. This, I assumed, was to be our transport to Trebizar.
I was correct: Ayl motioned us on board.
I said, “You speak of freedom, Ayl, but treat us as prisoners.”
He gave me back, “Did Truemen not treat we Changed as they do, you’d not be dealt with so. But …”
He shrugged huge shoulders. I could not fairly dispute his argument, nor contest his strength. Rwyan touched my arm, and I handed her on board. I climbed after her, and Tezdal sprang up behind. Ayl swung the gate closed, fastened with a length of chain and a sturdy-looking lock. Rough benches had been fixed along the sides, and cushions and blankets scattered the floor. It was not uncomfortable. I tested the bars and found them solid. At least we had a view.
Ayl took the forward seat, another bull-bred at his side, and the wagon lumbered out of the square.
Out of the village the road climbed a shallow cliff where black pines grew and birds sang, emphasizing the normality of the weather. Beyond the rim spread fields, sheep and cattle grazing there, hogs grunting over pastures walled with stone. It was a landscape not much different to that of my home. Somewhat harsher, I thought, the hursts I saw comprised mostly of firs and spruce, with not much oak or beech, but the grass green enough, which was a pleasant sight of itself after Dharbek’s arid summer.
I thought to ask Ayl about that, and he told me, “The Sky Lords’ quarrel is with Dharbek, not this land. We give them no offense, and they do not send their magic against us.”
“Do you ally with them?” I asked. “The Raethe shall explain,” he answered, as if by rote. I said, “On the west coast I saw Changed meet Sky Lords.”
He only shrugged and called the horses to a faster pace. I thought he left more unsaid than spoken, and that I should get no more answers from him. I settled on the bench beside Rwyan, took her hand, and described to her the countryside we traversed.
The road we took was hard-packed dirt for most of its length, but as the sun went down and twilight fell over the land, the wagon’s wheels began to drum on stone. I saw that we now moved along a paved track, and soon stone walls flanked our path. Ahead were lights; and then out of the dusk came a village.
There was no wall, nor any keep, only a sprawl of houses and barns clustering about the road as if the inhabitants felt no need of defense. It seemed to me a very open place. Ayl brought the wagon to a halt in a wide plaza, where the smell of smoke and cooking food hung homely in the air, and unlocked our cage.
A Changed whose ancestors had been, I suspected, canine, stood framed in a lighted doorway, studying us with obvious but not impolite interest. He gave Ayl cheerful greeting, and the bull-bred answered him in kind. As I stepped up onto the porch and saw his face full lit, I saw that he was old, his features seamed and kindly.
He ducked his head as if I were some traveler come welcome to his establishment and said, “Greetings. I am Thyr.”
I nodded and told him my name, and he smiled and said, “Ah, yes. Urt’s friend the Storyman.”
My eyes widened at that, that I was known even here, and Thyr chuckled and said, “Your fame travels far, Daviot. Welcome to Bezimar.”
Ayl gave him Rwyan’s and Tezdal’s names, and he stepped aside, inviting us to enter. My curiosity mounted apace.
It seemed we entered an hostlery. The room was large, an empty hearth against the far wall, a counter on which stood mugs and bottles to one side, chairs and tables across the floor. There were folk drinking, who looked up as we came in, their conversation ceasing. Thyr led us to a door, ushering us into a chamber dominated by a single long dining table. Tall windows stood on one wall. I noticed they were glassed, affording a view of the yard behind, where I saw the wagon brought. Thyr tapped a keg and filled mugs. I stared around, finding no difference between this place and any inn of Dharbek.
Ayl noticed my inspection and smiled. “What did you expect?” he asked. “That we should live in caves? Or lair in the fields?”
I said, “I did not know what to expect.”
He chuckled then and said, “We’re not so different, Daviot.”
I went to a window, tapped the glass. I said, “You’ve manufactories?”
He nodded. “Glazieries and metal shops and breweries. We are not uncivilized.”
I said, “No. Save you take prisoners.”
“And Truemen do not?” he returned. “Was I not Tyron’s prisoner? Had I wished, could I have quit his service? I could not-no more than might a bull owned by a farmer! Are we Changed not imprisoned in Dharbek?”