Chapter 24

Mak and Lyssa trotted their ponies along the trail. Ahead of them Nurm rode easily, flanked closely by Amy and Jewel. Behind them came the ponies of the surviving members of the original caravan, and donkeys laden with goods. The trail had been getting wider and more heavily travelled for the past several days, and they'd passed a number of isolated farms since morning.

"And after you meet my parents I'll take you down to see the ocean," Lyssa chattered happily. "Mak! You aren't still worried about meeting my family, surely? They're bound to like you. Anyway, if they don't it won't matter that much. We aren't going to be living with them, after all."

Mak muttered some response, but his thoughts kept returning to the forthcoming meeting. One moment he could picture himself being welcomed into the bosom of Lyssa's family. The next moment the picture would turn sour, with reactions ranging from wellconcealed horror to outright hostility.

"Are you sure they'll accept me?" His normally exuberant selfconfidence was badly in need of bolstering right then.

"Of course they will. And when they learn that you are practically Nurm's righthand man, they'll be even prouder of you. You're just worrying yourself into a stew for nothing, so let's not even talk about it any more. What do you think Nurm will do next? He talks like he doesn't intend to stay around here for very long."

"That's another thing that has been bothering me. One moment he talks like this area is all there is, and the next he talks like he is going exploring for new markets."

"That, I'm not going to worry about." Lyssa's expression lightened as she saw that Mak's attention was diverted from his immediate problems. "We found people on the other side of your mountains. Maybe he hopes to find more people in other places."

"That may be it, all right. Say, do you have any good metal workers in your town? Ever since my sword got broken in that fight with Riggan, I've been thinking about having another one made. It sure was handy for closein fighting where a spear is too awkward and a club is too slow."

The time passed in casual talk and companionable silences. The resettling of the True Folk in villages on the near side of the mountains had been a task to call into play all of their skill and tact. Mak still laughed when he remembered the expressions on the Village Elders' faces when they learned that the new village a day's walk from Wallen would be made up of almost all women! His parents had overjoyed to learn that he was not only doing well, but had found himself a wife, but would Lyssa's folks...

He tore his thoughts away from that line, only to realize with a shock that for some time they had been riding, not through scattered clearings in the forest, but through open fields bordered by rows of trees. Ahead of them the setting sun dipped behind clustered buildings, small neat houses crowded close to pleasantly meandering lanes. Mak could see no trace of the usual village wall, and except for some larger buildings huddled close to the shore each house had its own little plot of ground fenced off from the others. His immediate impression was of a peaceful, even placid way of life with little in the way of change or threat to disturb the even tenor of its ways. The few people they saw showed only casual interest in their return, though a few children ran and shouted alongside their ponies.

Near the center of the town where a broad lane crossed their path, Nurm reined around to face them.

"We're back where we started. I will be at my trading post tomorrow morning right after first meal. Each of you will be paid your fair share of the profits from our venture. I think that you will be pleasantly surprised at how well we did. Until tomorrow, then, ride easy."

"He would have to say that," grinned Mak. "Even after all of the riding we've done, I still don't feel completely at home on a pony."

"I wonder where he's going," Lyssa mused. "That isn't the way to where he lives."

"I would imagine that he's going to talk to the families of those of us who didn't make it." Three men and one woman of the original caravan had been lost in the bloody battle against the Chak. "I'm glad it's him and not me who has to do it. That's one job I wouldn't want for anything."

"Neither would I, but here we are at home." She slipped lithely from her pony and tied its reins to a gate post. "Come on now, darling. They aren't going to eat you."

Thinking about it later, he was glad that Lyssa had described her family to him in minute detail, because the evening's events had flown by him too rapidly to be remembered clearly. First, Lyssa's father had greeted them at the door. On learning who the stranger with his daughter was, his bellow must have shaken the shutters of every window in the house.

"Mother! Girls! Lyssa's back, and she's got herself a husband!" Then in a lower, but still booming voice, "Come in, come on in. The food will be on the table in just a little while."

Lyssa's mother, Lynna, was a tall slender woman whose dark brown hair showed only faint traces of gray. Mors, Lyssa's father, was only a little taller than Mak and even heavier, but much of his muscle had 'gone to seed' as he put it. Mak never did get all four of Lyssa's younger sisters straight, except for the oldest. Lydia's budding womanhood had turned all of her attention to whichever neighborhood youth was her current favorite. She had wavered between aloofness and eager interest at Lyssa's casual mention of a few of their adventures. The other three sisters had been too shy to do more than stare and giggle at this burly stranger who had claimed their big sister.

Mors had surprised Mak with his eager interest and shrewd questions about the trade potentials of the country they had seen, but the explanation was simple. "Before he left on this venture, Nurm asked me if I would be interested in handling the town end of his trading business, sending out caravans and buying and selling trade goods for a share of the profits."

"Then he was thinking about going someplace else after this trip, even before he left?"

"Yes, I'm sure of it. Have you and Lyssa decided what you're going to do now?"

"Yes. Nurm has asked us if we'd be interested in going with him wherever it is. We both like the idea very much."

"You could stay here, you know. I've no sons to carry on the business after me. If you set your mind to it, I'm sure that you could learn the running of it in a short time."

"I don't mean to be ungrateful, but I'm afraid it wouldn't work out. We both want to see more of the world, and do it together. If we stay here, she'd probably end up keeping house for me while I'm off chasing trade goods around the forest, and she'd hate that. I know that we both have to have jobs that keep us out in the open, and Nurm's offer is the best one that either one of us can hope for."

It was easy to read her father's disappointment, but he didn't pursue it any farther except to say, "Just remember that there is a place open for you here if this other thing doesn't work out."

Later that night, curled up with Lyssa in the tiny room under the peak of the roof that had been hers since she was a child, Mak told her of her father's offer.

"I know, darling. Mother mentioned it to me, too. It is something to remember if we ever want to come back, but I can't really see you in Father's office. Or with Father's stomach, either," she giggled, poking him in the ribs.

"No, and I can't really picture you as a quiet mouse of a housewife, either. Not for a few years more, anyway. You look much more at home leading a screaming horde of warrior women into battle, or dancing in the firelight somewhere deep in the forest."

Dark clouds blanketed the morning sky, and a misty rain came in fitful gusts off the sea as they rode their ponies toward Nurm's trading center. The winding lanes widened and straightened as they neared the waterfront. The buildings became larger, clustering closer together, and Lyssa pointed out a particular building as they rode along. "This is Father's place in the street of the weavers. This next street is where the garmentmakers have their shops. I wanted to be a garment maker when I was a little girl, until I found out that nobody wants anything but the same old patterns and colors."

"Your town looks prosperous enough. I thought you said once that it was dying."

"I guess it's not, really. But it's not growing, either. Just closing in on itself and growing more set in its ways with every year that passes. Father is interested in Nurm's trade routes and building new business, but almost nobody else feels that way."

Other cloaked figures were converging on their target, and a number of ponies tied at the rail showed that they weren't the first to arrive. Nurm's trading post was a large building. A combination of office, store and warehouse, it topped the surrounding buildings by a considerable amount. A dock provided space for boats to unload, and large doors gave wagons access to the warehouse.