The Phoenix Unchained (19 page)

“My mother always said a good tale made the cooking go faster,” Simera said. “That cold last night . . . you thought it was after you. Or because of you. Why?”

Tiercel shrugged. “I don’t know why. I only know—I think I know—that it was. Maybe something like that happens to
all
High Mages when they first start doing High Magick. I don’t know.”

Simera frowned curiously. “What’s a High Mage?”

“Now you’ve done it,” Harrier muttered.

Tiercel explained. In detail. And by the time he was done, so were the rabbits.

“So,” Simera said, as they ate, “you say that once there were two kinds of magic and now there aren’t except you found out you can do the other kind?”

Tiercel shrugged. “Pretty much.”

“Only you don’t understand it, and that’s why you need to find a Wildmage? But how is a Wildmage going to help you understand it if it isn’t the Wild Magic?”

“I have no idea. Harrier thinks a Wildmage can get rid of it for me. The important thing—I think—is that a Wildmage can explain these . . . dreams. Because I think they mean something, too.”

“Maybe every High Mage has them,” Simera suggested helpfully.

“Oh, I hope not. Because if they did, I can’t imagine why there would ever have been any High Mages at all.”

ONCE they’d finished their meal—and brewed tea—they spent quite a long time scouring the nearby woods for enough felltimber to keep the fire burning through the night. Simera took the opportunity to show them some of the edible plants that filled the forest—and to warn them away from the dangerous ones. Some of
the most enticing-looking berries and mushrooms could be deadly—or at least make the eater very sick.

While it was too early in the season for most of the forest fruits, Simera harvested a fine crop of mushrooms and a few early berries, and by the time they returned to their campsite with the last load of wood, it was late afternoon.

“Now you should rest,” she said. “I’ll keep watch. At night the fire will keep most creatures away—and I sleep lightly enough—but in daylight, anything might happen.”

“Watch?” Harrier asked, slightly startled. He hadn’t seen a single living soul on their way here—and every forest creature had fled their (admittedly noisy) approach.

“There’s always something to keep watch for in the forest,” Simera said firmly.

THE next morning, while mist still hung over the pool, Simera roused the two of them out of their bedrolls. Though Harrier was used to keeping early hours, apparently the Centauress was an even earlier riser. She showed them, first, how to prepare the fire to brew their morning tea, and then, to break camp.

“There’s a game trail that runs fairly straight a few miles from here,” Simera said, as she helped them pack. “Once I’ve set you on it, I’ll cut through the forest to the nearest inn. They should be able to sell me a fletch of bacon and a few pounds of meal, and maybe some raisins and some grain for the mules. With that and the game available in the forest, we should reach Sentarshadeen without difficulty. Or any need to tighten our belts overmuch,” she added, grinning, for Harrier had complained all through breakfast about their lack of provisions. Except for some tea, salt, and sugar candy, breakfast had finished off their supplies.

“Oh, sure,” Tiercel said. Before Harrier could stop him, he’d taken the coin purse from his belt and handed it to her.

“Why didn’t you just give her the mules, too, while you were at it?” Harrier demanded later. It was the middle of Morning Bells—or, as they counted time outside the City, the fourth hour of day. Simera, having set them on the game trail, had departed for the inn.

The trail, as she had warned them, was nothing more than a wide spot in the trees; a trail made and used by animals, not people. The wandering bare-earth path was only a few handspans wide; more of a guide than an actual road. But they could follow it if they paid close attention, and Simera had said it was going in the right direction.

“What?” Tiercel asked blankly.

“You gave her all your money. What makes you think she’s coming back?”

“Oh, by the Light, Harrier! Are you just looking for things to complain about? Since when does the
Forest Watch
go around robbing people?”

“Apprentice Forest Watch. And we’ve only her word for that.”

“She’s wearing the livery. She saved us from those brigands. Although I still think I could have talked my way out of things.”

“You always think that. All right. Say she’s everything you think she is. What if she’s attacked on her way to—or from—the inn? Even
you
have to admit the woods are dangerous—after the brigands, after last night. She
still
has all your money. What if she’s hurt, or killed, and the money’s lost?”

“Money isn’t everything.”

Harrier sighed. “It is when you need it to travel on.”

“I thought you trusted her,” Tiercel said, hurt.

Now it was Harrier’s turn to look surprised. “What does that have to do with whether she’s hurt or killed? And no, I don’t. Why should I?”

“Well, she saved us from the brigands, and she’s traveling with us to Sentarshadeen, and—”

“And none of that has cost her much. She needed someone to travel with, as she said. She thinks you’re cute. She’s going to Sentarshadeen anyway. I don’t trust her and I don’t
not
trust her . . . not if there are evil things out here that wouldn’t find it that hard to
pretend
to be Forest Watch. Tiercel . . . if you want me to believe that you’re in some kind of danger, well, one of us ought to act like it.”

“I just don’t think you should always assume that everybody you meet is out to get you.”

“And that’s why I’m always the one dragging you out of sewers,” Harrier finished triumphantly.

SIMERA did not return until several hours later. By then both boys were hungry and thirsty, and the mules were doing more browsing than moving, despite their best efforts to urge them forward.

She trotted onto the trail a few yards ahead. She was moving carefully, because strapped across her flanks were two large wicker panniers that creaked with every step she took.

“I thought you’d have gotten farther than this,” she said, sounding slightly cross.

“I thought you’d be back sooner,” Harrier answered equally grumpily.

“Well, she’s here now,” Tiercel said hastily. He pulled his mule to a halt—not a difficult task—and swung down from the saddle. “It looks like you were successful. Let me help you unpack that. We wanted to look for water—we could hear it—but we didn’t want to leave the trail.”

Simera smiled. “That was well done of you. There’s a little stream not far from here, but it’s easy to lose your way in the forest. We’ll
put the hampers on the pack mule, then go to the stream and eat. I bought buckets and waterskins as well—I’m afraid your purse is much lighter than it was this morning, Tiercel.”

“I don’t mind,” Tiercel said, smiling. “You know what we need better than we do. I’m grateful for your help.”

In addition to necessities that would keep over the fortnight they’d need to reach Sentarshadeen, Simera had bought a game pie to eat now, and a dozen berry tarts. Harrier’s mood lightened appreciably after he’d devoured all of his share of the food and a good portion of Tiercel’s. The remaining supplies were repacked, and the hampers abandoned, a gift to whoever came across them next. They filled the waterskins and went on.

THAT day set the pattern for the ones to follow. That night, at twilight, they made camp. Tiercel and Harrier arranged the camp and took care of the mules while Simera hunted. She brought back whatever she’d managed to catch—that first night, it was squirrels—and they cooked and ate them before rolling up in their bedrolls—at least in the case of Harrier and Tiercel. Simera, like all Centaurs, slept standing.

Tiercel slept without dreams.

“SOMETHING’S coming.”

It was the middle of the night. It had been eight days—eight blessedly dreamless days—since they’d left the Three Trees.

Tiercel sat bolt upright in his bedroll, shivering at the shock of the night air on his skin. Above him the summer stars burned brightly.

He’d been dreaming again. One of the
odd
dreams, the ones he didn’t remember the moment he awoke, the ones that left his mind feeling jumbled. He looked around. What had it been? He strained to call it back. Nothing. But there was nothing
here
, either. In the last sennight or so, he’d gotten used to the sounds the forest made at night. Simera had told him that the forest kept its own watch. Nothing seemed out of place. And it was certainly no colder than it ought to be, he noticed with relief.

“Coming.” Harrier rolled over with a groan. “What?”

“I have no idea.”

Harrier sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Tell me you were dreaming.”

The last time I dreamed, a stableful of people almost froze to death
.“I was,” Tiercel admitted.

Harrier had always been one to wake up quickly; something Tiercel had found out years ago when attempting to play the usual childhood pranks on his friend—or even to sneak out of a shared room in the middle of the night. Harrier said that if you had older brothers, you learned to sleep lightly. He was fully awake now.