palls

I mean that this valley feels ... I don't know, dangerous." Now he did turn. His smile was a smirk that hurt her to see. "Haunted, you mean? Like that old drunkard said?" "I don't know exactly what I mean," she said furiously. "But I can see it was a waste of time talking about it with you." "No doubt." He gently but deliberately touched his spurs to Homefinder's side and sent her trotting forward. Watching his straight back, Miriamele fought down the urge to shout at him. What had she expected? No, more to the point, what had she wanted, after all? Wasn't it best he had been told the truth? Perhaps things would be easier when some time had passed, when he realized they could still be friends. The road descended deeper into the valley, so that the thick-mantled hills seemed to be growing even higher on either side. The road was deserted, and the few rough cottages they saw perched on the hillsides seemed equally uninhabited, but at least it seemed they would be able to find shelter somewhere tonight—which was a reassuring thought, since Miriamele did not in the least wish to spend a night here out of doors. She had conceived a serious dislike of Hasu Vale, although nothing had actually happened to make her feel that way. Still, the smothering quality of the stillness and the thick, overgrown hillsides—and perhaps, just a little bit, her own sorrow—conspired to make her look forward to the moment they rode out of this valley again and saw the headlands of Swertclif, even though that would mean that Asu'a and her father were very, very close.

It was also disheartening to think of spending another strained, silent night with Simon. Before their last unpleasant exchange, he had spoken to her only a few times today, and then only about practical things. He had discovered what he claimed were new footprints near the shrine where they had spent the night and had told her about them soon after they set out, but he had seemed quite offhand and uncaring about it. Miriamele secretly thought it likely that the muddy footmarks were their own, since they had tramped about a great deal while searching for firewood. Other than that, Simon had conversed with her only about whether it was time to stop and eat and rest the horses, and to issue curt thanks when she had given him food or shared the water skin. It would not be a pleasant night, she felt sure. They were in the deeps of the valley when Simon abruptly stopped, pulling back on Homefinder's reins so that the mare paced nervously from side to side for a long moment after she halted. 'There's somebody on the road ahead," he said quietly. "There. Just through the trees." He pointed to a spot where the path hooked to one side and passed out of sight. "Do you see them?" Miriamele squinted. The early twilight had turned the road before them into a dim streak of gray. If something was moving beyond the trees, she could not see it from her angle, "We're getting near the town." "Come, then," he said. "It's probably just someone on their way home, but we haven't seen anyone else all day." He eased Homefinder ahead. As they rounded the bend they came upon two figures hunching along in the middle of the road, both of them carrying buckets. When the noise of Simon and Miriamele's horses reached the pair, they flinched and looked over their shoulders as guiltily as thieves surprised. Miriamele felt sure that they were just as startled as Simon to find other travelers on the road. The pair moved to the verge of the road as the riders approached. From what Miriamele could see of their dark, hooded cloaks, they were probably local people, hill-folk. Simon lifted his hand to his brow in salute. "God give you good day," he said. The nearest of the pair looked up at him and cautiously raised his own hand to return the greeting, but stopped abruptly, staring. "By the Tree!" Simon reined up. "You're the ones from the tavern in Falshire." What is he doing? Miriamele wondered fearfully. Are they Fire Dancers? Ride on, Simon, you idiot! He turned toward her. "Miriamele. Look here." Unexpectedly, the two hooded folk dropped to their knees. "You saved our lives," a woman's voice said. Miriamele pulled up and stared. It was the woman and man that the Fire Dancers had threatened. "That's true," the man said. His voice was unsteady. "May Usires bless you, good knight." "Please, get up." Simon was clearly pleased yet embarrassed. "I'm sure someone else would have helped you if we hadn't." The woman stood, unmindful of the mud on the knees of her long skirt. "None seemed in a hurry to help," she said. 'That's the way. Those who are good are given the pain." The man darted a glance at her. 'That's enough, wife. These folk don't need your tellin' what's wrong with the world." She looked back at him with poorly-hidden defiance. "It's a shame, that's all. A shame the world works thus." The man turned his attention back to Simon and Miriamele.

He was middle-aged, with a face reddened and wrinkled by years of harsh sun. "My wife has her ideas, mind, but the bottom of it's true enough. You saved our lives, that you did." He forced a smile. He seemed nervous; having his life saved must have been almost as frightening as not having it saved. "Have you a place to stay for tonight? My wife's Gullaighri and I am Roelstan, and we would be pleased to offer you what shelter we have." "We cannot stop yet," Miriamele said, unsettled by the thought of staying with strangers. Simon looked at her. "You have been ill," he said. "I can ride farther." "Yes, you probably can, but why turn down a roof over our heads, even for one night?" He turned to look at the man and woman, then moved his horse closer to Miriamele. "It may be the last chance to get out of the wind and rain," he murmured, "the last until..." He broke off, unwilling even to whisper any hint of their destination. Miriamele was certainly weary. She hesitated a moment longer, then nodded her head. "Good," said Simon, then turned to the man and woman. "We would be glad of shelter." He did not offer their own names to these strangers; Miriamele silently approved of that at least.

"But we have nothing worthy of such good folk, husband." Gullaighn had a face that might have been kindly, but fear and hard times had made the skin slack, the eyes sorrowful. "It is no favor to bring them to our rude place." "Be quiet, woman," her husband said. "We will do what we can." She appeared to have more to say, but instead closed her mouth in a grim line. "It's settled, then," he said. "Come. It is not much farther." After a moment's consideration, Simon and Miriamele dismounted so that they could walk beside their hosts. "Do you live here in Hasu Vale?" asked Simon. Roelstan laughed shortly. "For a short time only. We lived once in Falshire." Miriamele hesitated before speaking. "And... and were you Fire Dancers?" 'To our sorrow." "They are a powerful evil." Gullaighn's voice was thick with emotion. "You should have nothing to do with them, my lady, nor anything they've touched." "Why were those men after you?" Simon reflexively fingered the hilt of his sword. "Because we left," Roelstan said. "We could stand it no longer. They are mad, but like dogs, even in their madness they can do harm.