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CHAPTER 5

      WARE KNEW exactly where they should go — to a spot he'd found by accident several years before.

      The river that divided northern Avianne from neighboring Berachan ran through a deep channel walled by high cliffs. It was largely inaccessible from above, but he knew a spot where a ledge led down to the water. There, a narrow beach ended in an overhang and a small cave, a pool offered good fishing, and sunshine warmed the shore even in cold weather.

      With this destination in mind, he'd been leading them through the pathless woods for almost an hour, when Steel melted suddenly to the ground, as pale as when Ware had found her in the snow. ". . . rest a minute."

      Ware put down the bundles he was carrying. "We mustn't stop here in the open. But we're almost there; I can carry you the rest of the way."

      She made no protest when he divided his parcels between Hearth and Hasty and lifted her in his arms. And sure enough, it was less than a quarter mile to the boulder that marked the way down. As soon as Ware showed them the ledge, Hasty started down eagerly, and after a moment's hesitation Hearth followed him. Ware descended more cautiously, still carrying Steel.

      She opened her eyes. "I hear water . . ."

      He carried her to the river's edge and she drank from his cupped palm. Her lips were soft and warm against the side of his hand, and it was touchingly like feeding a pet when he was a little child. It made him feel strong. And protective of her.

      The water revived her, and she said softly, "I can manage now; you're very kind to me."

      He nodded, releasing her. "It's only a little way now, then you can rest, and we'll take care of everything." He led the way to the cave, and while Hasty gathered wood, he made a pile of leaves no bigger than his two hands and struck a spark over it. It caught almost at once, and he fed it twigs and sticks until it was burning nicely.

      As Hearth shared out bread and fruit, Ware's eyes remained on the woman opposite him. The firelight was kind to her, softening the starved hollows of her face and tinting her pale cheeks until she looked no older than himself.

      Hasty, too, was fascinated by this stranger. "Who are you?" he asked, his mouth full of bread. "Where'd you come from, and how'd you learn to fight like that? Are you a soldier or something?"

      "No, not a soldier," she answered slowly. "I'm the king's messenger."

      "Then how come you fought with the 'Pressers," the boy demanded. "They're the king's people, too, aren't they?"

      Steel looked at Hasty. Then at Ware and Hearth. "I can tell you the truth, I suppose. You're outlaws now, and Dur's men will kill you if they find you."

      Hearth, who had been staring into the flames, glanced up to meet her eyes. "It's not hard to guess. You serve King Hawk, not King Dur."

      The young woman nodded, her face brighter than the fire. "King Hawk, the rightful heir of Avianne."

      "What does than mean — rightful heir?" Hasty asked, reaching for more bread.

      "It means that he was chosen by EagleKing, his uncle, and approved by the King's Counsel before he took the throne. And he's the finest man in the world. He's everything a king should be and only Dur's treachery could have taken the crown away. And since then Dur's been a cruel, evil ruler. I've seen what he can do. I lived at court when I was a child, and my mother was —" she hesitated briefly, "— a lady of the court."

      As Steel said those last words, Ware had a curious sensation. It was as if, very briefly, he was seeing double. Or perhaps it was more like hearing two things at once.

      It was not an entirely new feeling. Sometimes, when Hasty was boasting about having caught a fish of astonishing size (which invariably happened when the boy was alone), Ware would experience this same curious sense of double vision. He could almost see the gleaming fish Hasty was describing, and yet at the same time — underneath it, somehow — there was always another image of a smaller fish.

      Now here the feeling was again. He hadn't been able to see what lay behind Steel's words, but he was certain that the truth of it was different from what she'd said.

      Hasty yawned. "Haven't we got anything to eat besides bread and apples?"

      Hearth shook her head. "No, nothing else — and they have to last till the soldiers are gone and we can go home."

      Steel gave her a pitying look. "You still don't understand, any of you. Nobody defies the impressment. They'll send men to catch you. And they'll keep after you and after you and if they catch you, you'll be put to death, as an example. To keep others from running away too."

      Hasty sat up abruptly. "Wait a minute. You mean I can't ever go home at all? What about my mother!"

      Like every mother in Avianne, she will lose her son, Steel answered sadly, looking into the boy's anxious face. "Never think that Dur will have mercy."

      Ware looked at Hearth. "Then where can we go?"

      Hearth shook her head. "I wonder that myself. We can't get to Mountainfast in winter, the passes are choked with snow. And if we cross into Berachan — we've been at war with them so long that they'd probably put us in prison just because we're Avianni. So I don't know."

      The wind was rising in the forest above them. The air wavered above the broken embers of the fire. Unconsciously, they moved closer together, hoarding the last warmth.

      Steel sighed. "I have no answer for you. The only safety I know is under King Hawk's protection."

      Hasty, who had huddled into himself, fighting tears, looked up quickly. "Then can we go with you? To where King Hawk is?"

      She looked away. "It's the whole length of Avianne away. And to get there, we'd have to pass through all Dur's troops. I — I don't know if I can take you there."

      "Why not?" Hasty demanded.

      Hearth leaned forward. "It sounds like our only hope, Steel. And we must go somewhere . . ."

      Ware had been watching Steel. She was uneasy, he thought. No, it was more than that. Some unspoken obstacle was looming in her mind, like a great stone blocking her way. He edged closer; he could almost see what it was.

      Unexpectedly, her eyes filled with tears. "You don't understand — I can't get home myself. When I came here, I had a — a talisman that protected me. And now I've lost it! Just when I have news that might even put King Hawk on the throne again, I've lost the treasure he trusted me with, and I can't get back to him."

      Her distress was so strong that it flowed through Ware like rushing water. "We'll help you," he cried. "We'll go there together!" Impulsively, he reached out and grasped her hand. And at that touch . . .

      He was elsewhere! . . . seeing what the sky sees, looking down at the dark green of treetops and the shadows on the face of the earth, He saw the river glitter like a silver string between the trees . . .

      Ah — he started back, letting go her hand — and the vision was gone.

      What had he seen, he wondered, staring at the woman next to him. What dream? What fantasy?

      Meanwhile, Hearth was saying, "Would we be welcome, Steel? Or would King Hawk turn us away?"

      Steel shook her head. "Oh, you'd be welcome enough. He has fewer than a hundred followers — just the friends who fled with him into exile and some of the soldiers who fought for him during the War."

      She looked up. "But even if we get there, you won't be out of danger. If you join Hawk, Dur will put a price on your head."

      "We've no other choice," Hearth said. "And I don't see why we couldn't get ourselves there. After all, Sister and I came from the capital in dangerous times — and we were two young women with a sick man and a baby. We traveled the whole way on foot, moving mostly at night and keeping away from towns."

      A mild snore interrupted her. Hasty had fallen asleep as they talked and was now in danger of falling into the fire. Hearth got up and moved the boy's inert body away from the embers. "It's late," she said. "We'll make plans tomorrow."

      Steel shook her head, but she wrapped a quilt around her saying, "I'm tired too." And moments later, she was asleep.

      Ware went out into the dark and brought more wood. When he came back, Hearth was sitting awake, staring into the glowing ashes. Looking at her closely, he saw that her eyes were shining with tears.

      He sat down beside her.

      "You're thinking about Uncle, aren't you. I can't get him out of my mind. I keep seeing it. — they didn't have to kill him," he said bitterly.

      "He struck first," Hearth reminded him in a quiet voice. "Poor, gentle fellow. I think he was reliving that terrible day in Kingsport. He thought they were the men who killed our father. After all these years."

      "I should have — "

      Hearth shook her head. "You couldn't have stopped them. If it hadn't been for Steel, they'd have killed you, too."

      "Even so . . ." Ware muttered. He thought of Baker sitting at the table, buttering the dough with child-like concentration. Now he'd never see that innocent face again. How dared they! How dared they!

      Almost as if thinking aloud, Hearth murmured, "These long years, Baker has been my child — even more than you were, because he never grew up. He never knew me. Even when I held him in my arms and closed his eyes . . . he never said my name." Her voice trembled. "Ware, my dear, your Uncle Baker died long ago during the capture of Kingsport — it's only now I can stop weeping for him at last."

      They were silent a little. Finally Ware said. "So — what will we do? Go and join King Hawk?"

      "I think we must. The truth is that Steel is right, and there's no safe place for us in this kingdom. I should have foreseen it." Then after another pause. "We must sleep."

      They lay down on opposite sides of the fire, but Ware was still wakeful, smelling the river and the wet wood and leaves. Wondering about the days to come.

      Only when the last coals winked out did he close his eyes, and, when he slept, he dreamed he'd become a cloud floating over a great city. Far below, his shadow lay on fields of flowers as yellow as marmalade. Beyond the river, the land was the color of gingerbread, dotted with dark bushes like scattered raisins. The river itself was a gold wire twisted around mountains of exquisite blue, and the sun was his plaything.

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