Finding the Way and Other Tales of Valdemar Read Free Page A

and she actually surprised herself with the amount she had said.
    “Besides that, as you said, I know the swamp, and I know the danger signs in it. I suppose I have another Gift; I get a sense of when danger is near, even without signs of it.” She shrugged, and leaped to the next grassy tussock.
    :I do not know if my Chosen is in the Mire or on the other side,: Vesily said, as she picked her way daintily from tussock to tussock. :I only know that it is time and he needs me. Until I actually Choose him, I cannot Mindspeak him, and I am not bound to him as I will be when he is truly Chosen.:
    “Depending on where he is, it might take us as long as three days before we can reach him.” Sherra tested a dubious tussock with her staff, but it held firm. She envied the Companion’s long legs.
    She felt the Companion’s dismay. :Three days! But—:
    “You can’t tell how far he is, and that’s how long it takes to cross Gripping Mire. Unless you can summon a gryphon to go look for him—” That would certainly be preferable. Not for the first time, Sherra wished she lived on the Vale side of the Mire. It would be much easier to get one of the gryphons to scout. Or ask one of the Hawkbrothers to send out his bond bird; that would be almost as good.
    The Companion’s sigh was all that it took to tell Sherra that Vesily was no more likely to call a gryphon than she herself was. :But doesn’t that mean we will spend at least two nights in the Mire?: she replied, clearly not happy with that prospect either.
    “There are islands in there, and I know how to safeguard us,” Sherra replied. “And I’ll find things that are safe for you to eat. It won’t be pleasurable, but it won’t be a misery either, unless it rains. Until it rains.”
    She looked back to see Vesily shuddering at the thought. Well, Sherra couldn’t really blame her. The Mire in the rain? Ugly proposition. Not as miserable for them as it would be for humans, poor naked things, but quite bad enough.
    Already the insects had discovered them—the small ones, at least, not the huge, hunting ones deeper in the Mire—and midges and mosquitoes rose from the surrounding area in clouds. But Sherra’s tough hide sent them away, discouraged, and something about Vesily made them suddenly zoom off when they had gotten within a few inches of her white coat. Probably something to do with magic, and that was one thing more off Sherra’s “worry” list. Without protection, it was quite possible for animals to be so drained of blood overnight by insects that they became too weak to move.
    At which point, of course, they became something’s dinner.
    Since she had not had time for breakfast, she gulped the fish stew from her gourd while it was still warm, regretting the half pot she’d had to throw away. This had been a very good batch.
    :What on earth are you drinking?: Vesily demanded after a while, her irritation plain.
    “My breakfast, Lady, which you were too impatient to permit me to eat,” Sherra replied, with equal irritation. “If you had not noticed by now, in order to set a pace that satisfies you, I must make three strides to your one, thus I am working three times harder. I am in great need of this breakfast.”
    Silence. Chagrined silence, at least.
    Good. Sherra put her mind back on the path. The plants around them now were well over Vesily’s head, never mind Sherra’s—and more than once, Vesily had to balance awkwardly on two or three tussocks of safe ground, while Sherra searched for another to jump to.
    Finally, there was nothing to jump to. “Well, Lady,” she said, turning back to the Companion, “We have run out of dry. It is now time to get wet.”
    : ... . blast.:
    Sherra nodded her snout with sympathy. “The good news is that this part of the mire is relatively free of sucking mudholes. I’ll only have to make sure we don’t run into plain, ordinary holes that would break one of your ankles.” She eased herself down into the