Voyage of the Fox Rider Read Free Page A

jar of honey. He peered into the cup and turned it upside down—“Dratted mice”—banging the rim against the tabletop and peering in, once again bringing Rux to his feet.
    “Look here, Pysk, you ought to do something about that—that dog of yours. Why, he’s as jumpy as a wild beast.”
    “Rux
is
a ‘wild beast,’ Alamar…and he’s
not
a dog! And if you wouldn’t make so much noise—”
    “Tea’s ready,” interrupted Alamar, peering into the pot.
    Moments later, Alamar stirred a dab of honey into the steaming amber drink, then fixed his green-eyed gaze on his visitor, Jinnarin sitting cross-legged atop the rough-hewn plank table. “All right, now, what’s all this about Farrix missing?”
    Jinnarin looked at the eld Man—or was he an Elf? His eyes were somewhat tilted and his ears slightly pointed, as are the Fair Folk’s, but in each case, eyesand ears both, they were more Manlike than Elf but more Elflike than Man. Farrix had said that Mages were like that—neither Human nor Elven but something in between, and now Jinnarin could see it for herself. He was dressed in a blue robe, and on his left wrist he wore a gold bracelet set with a dull red stone.
    “Are you just going to sit there and stare at me, or are you instead going to tell me about Farrix?”
    Jinnarin shook her head to clear it of these vagaries and then began:
    “The winter before last, Farrix thought that he saw something peculiar in the aurora—great plumes streaming away to the east. Oh, not that it happened every night, but he saw it occur several times over the month he watched—”
    “Plumes? To the east?”
    “Well, down from the north to the east.”
    Alamar’s bushy white eyebrows cocked upward. “Hm, east of Darda Glain. How far east?”
    “How far?” Jinnarin shrugged. “I don’t know.”
    “Come, come, Pysk, was it right at hand or far away?”
    Jinnarin turned up her palms. “I didn’t see any—not that I was looking—but Farrix said that it was one or two hundred miles away.”
    “Ha! The other side of Rwn.” With a gesture he bade her to continue.
    Jinnarin sipped from her acorn cup. “About two Moons after he had gone on his quest, Rhu, his fox, returned home, bearing a note from Farrix.” Jinnarin reached into her vest and pulled forth a tiny, tissue-thin parchment, unfolding it and passing it over to Alamar.
    The eld Mage peered at the wee document, squinting his eyes. “Faugh! Too small. I can’t read this.” He thrust the paper back at Jinnarin. The Pysk took the note and smoothed it on the plank before her.
    “My love,”
she read…
    My love
,
    Here I am at the edge of the isle, and the plumes continue to flow easterly. It appears, though, that they arc down to strike in the ocean nearby. I have made myself a coracle, and I plan on paddling a bit out to
sea, out to where it seems they might splash, just beyond the horizon, I think
.
    I have told Rhu to wait awhile, a day or so. If he returns without me, you will know that I am off on another of my ventures
.
    I love you
,
Farrix       
    Jinnarin refolded the paper and slipped it back into her inner vest pocket. “Rhu brought the note. Spring came, then summer, and Farrix did not return. In autumn, Rux and I followed Rhu back to where he had last seen Farrix: a headland along the southeast coast of Rwn—”
    “Hmph!” grunted Alamar. “How d’ you know that he took you to the right place? I mean, it’s not as if they are smart and all, like Wolves. Instead, what we are talking about are
foxes!
So, how d’ you know he got anywhere
near?
”
    Outrage flushed Jinnarin’s face. “They are our companions! And trustworthy! Farrix’s Rhu wouldn’t make a mistake in something as important as that.” She glanced down at Rux asleep before the fire, as if to assure herself that he had not overheard this—this
slur
against Foxkind. “Set aside your doubt, Alamar—Rhu led us to the right place all right.”
    Alamar, too, scowled down