members of the Feroun also generally came from the Dassaretae.
I would never understand this city, but I had learned about the rivalry between the Enchelei and the Dassaretae tribes. In fact, my deeds of the previous month had thrown the Gropas, the main family of the Enchelei tribe, into disarray. I supposed that Vukasin Mrnjavcevic, the leader of the Mrnjavcevic family and hence the zupan of the Dassaretae, would have preferred something a little less dramatic, but the rest of his tribe undoubtedly were enjoying the damage done to their ancient enemies.
“I’m headed up the Kopayalitsa to the springs for Honker Harald.”
“Is his nose as big as they say?”
“Come by the Faerie and find out,” I laughed.
The Feroun made a pathway through the gate for me, and I ignored the glares of the others who waited in line. Once past the cluster awaiting entry, I let Deor trot up the road past Crownstreet to the overgrown smallish path that Ragnar had called the Kopayalitsa.
As we pushed through the branches, I realized a lack of upkeep created an illusion of the road’s small size. Once, the Kopayalitsa had spread wide enough for two wagons to pass easily. Now, with the brush growing on the uphill side and the roadbed crumbling away on the downhill side, the road only allowed a single wagon to pass precariously along the mountainside.
The day shone gloriously, though much warmer than I liked as we approached Wodensniht, the shortest night of the year. The deep blue of Lake Achrida sparkled below us, and as we progressed I could look back at the city. From here, Achrida gleamed, a town of white limestone and red ceramic roof tiles. Looming above it all sat its fortress.
Now that I knew what to look for, I could pick out the domes and symbols that dotted the rooftops, denoting various shrines, churches, chapels, and wherever else anyone decided to pray. I had been told a person could worship with a different god or godling each day of the year in Achrida. I would be surprised if that were not true.
I nudged Deor down the path leading down to Biljana’s Springs. Honker said the family had picnicked near a copse of pines that extended shade into a relatively flat, grassy area just above where the water poured from the mountainside. Though no families sat in the long, soft grass on this day, I recognized the copse easily and urged Deor down the last section of the path.
I slid off Deor’s back once we reached the springs. I had remembered to bring a mug from the Faerie. With Deor lapping noisily and me dipping the mug in the springs, we drank our fill of the blissfully cold water.
I then led Deor up into the grassy area and let him nibble as he wished while I searched for the doll.
I hoped that the white dress would make it easy to spot, but a systematic stroll up and down the edge of the copse and into the field showed me nothing.
I decided that Honker’s daughter might have gone into the copse itself, even though the pines had grown up tightly together. A small girl could easily crawl underneath the branches. For a grown man, however, its branches and needles poked out like spear tips from a shieldwall. The light tunic I had chosen had helped keep me cool on the trip, but provided little armor against the green barbs marshaled before me.
No help for it , I thought, wincing as I shouldered through the sharp needles stabbing through the light linen of my tunic. Past the first rank of branches, I found some small gaps among the trees and wove through them. Finally, close to the mountainside, deep amongst the tree trunks, I thought I saw flash of white.
I got close enough to realize that I had found the doll.
I also realized I had found something else.
Kapric and Zvono were not going to be happy with me.
A loud whinny from Deor disturbed my reverie. He only did that when—
I had my sword in my hand as I burst out from the copse. About ten yards away, two men with prominent brows rushed at me. Their drawn swords
I would never understand this city, but I had learned about the rivalry between the Enchelei and the Dassaretae tribes. In fact, my deeds of the previous month had thrown the Gropas, the main family of the Enchelei tribe, into disarray. I supposed that Vukasin Mrnjavcevic, the leader of the Mrnjavcevic family and hence the zupan of the Dassaretae, would have preferred something a little less dramatic, but the rest of his tribe undoubtedly were enjoying the damage done to their ancient enemies.
“I’m headed up the Kopayalitsa to the springs for Honker Harald.”
“Is his nose as big as they say?”
“Come by the Faerie and find out,” I laughed.
The Feroun made a pathway through the gate for me, and I ignored the glares of the others who waited in line. Once past the cluster awaiting entry, I let Deor trot up the road past Crownstreet to the overgrown smallish path that Ragnar had called the Kopayalitsa.
As we pushed through the branches, I realized a lack of upkeep created an illusion of the road’s small size. Once, the Kopayalitsa had spread wide enough for two wagons to pass easily. Now, with the brush growing on the uphill side and the roadbed crumbling away on the downhill side, the road only allowed a single wagon to pass precariously along the mountainside.
The day shone gloriously, though much warmer than I liked as we approached Wodensniht, the shortest night of the year. The deep blue of Lake Achrida sparkled below us, and as we progressed I could look back at the city. From here, Achrida gleamed, a town of white limestone and red ceramic roof tiles. Looming above it all sat its fortress.
Now that I knew what to look for, I could pick out the domes and symbols that dotted the rooftops, denoting various shrines, churches, chapels, and wherever else anyone decided to pray. I had been told a person could worship with a different god or godling each day of the year in Achrida. I would be surprised if that were not true.
I nudged Deor down the path leading down to Biljana’s Springs. Honker said the family had picnicked near a copse of pines that extended shade into a relatively flat, grassy area just above where the water poured from the mountainside. Though no families sat in the long, soft grass on this day, I recognized the copse easily and urged Deor down the last section of the path.
I slid off Deor’s back once we reached the springs. I had remembered to bring a mug from the Faerie. With Deor lapping noisily and me dipping the mug in the springs, we drank our fill of the blissfully cold water.
I then led Deor up into the grassy area and let him nibble as he wished while I searched for the doll.
I hoped that the white dress would make it easy to spot, but a systematic stroll up and down the edge of the copse and into the field showed me nothing.
I decided that Honker’s daughter might have gone into the copse itself, even though the pines had grown up tightly together. A small girl could easily crawl underneath the branches. For a grown man, however, its branches and needles poked out like spear tips from a shieldwall. The light tunic I had chosen had helped keep me cool on the trip, but provided little armor against the green barbs marshaled before me.
No help for it , I thought, wincing as I shouldered through the sharp needles stabbing through the light linen of my tunic. Past the first rank of branches, I found some small gaps among the trees and wove through them. Finally, close to the mountainside, deep amongst the tree trunks, I thought I saw flash of white.
I got close enough to realize that I had found the doll.
I also realized I had found something else.
Kapric and Zvono were not going to be happy with me.
A loud whinny from Deor disturbed my reverie. He only did that when—
I had my sword in my hand as I burst out from the copse. About ten yards away, two men with prominent brows rushed at me. Their drawn swords
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