The Bhikhu gave her a stern look as if she had done something to offend him. He looked at Paedrin and Kiranrao searchingly.
Paedrin nodded. “She speaks true.”
“I do not doubt her honesty,” the man replied. “Only you do not seem the kind who would be seeking the prince. Are you selling something?” He started to move, gliding around to their right, watching Kiranrao all the while.
It was the Uddhava, Hettie realized. He was distrustful of them. Whether it was their clothes and appearance, she could not tell. Kiranrao did not move, but she could sense him poised, ready to strike.
“No,” Hettie said, stepping forward. “We bear a gift to the prince from Kenatos. He will be expecting us.”
“Indeed,” the Bhikhu said warily. “Then I will escort you.
Hettie saw a sheen of sweat on Paedrin’s brow. He looked wary also, as taut as a rope.
“Thank you,” Hettie said. “We will follow the way.”
The Bhikhu directed them into the woods until they reached a dirt path carved into the trees. Once they reached it, the journey progressed much quicker. It was a well-worn path with no scrub or weeds disturbing the carefully tamped earth. The wind caused the enormous trees to bend and wave, bringing out a shushing sound as the greenery embraced.
Their guide led them in silence. Occasionally Hettie saw the branches bend and drift as shadowy shapes bounded across their tops. She realized that the road was meant for visitors and that the Vaettir did not use it themselves. It amazed her. She wondered how long the Bhikhu had watched them before presenting himself.
The road began to climb and the journey became more difficult. The forest floor started to slope and dip with undulations, and large boulders began to appear in the forest. Some were carved with symbols. Others had faces. Occasionally there were small huts built off the road, made of thatch and the strange narrow trunks.
Hettie glanced at Paedrin. She expected him to be fascinated by his homeland. His people had come from Silvandom originally. She was surprised that he looked so tense, so ill at ease. Something was troubling him greatly. She could see it burning in his eyes. He caught her eye and looked away, ashamed.
With Kiranrao and the other Bhikhu there, she knew she would not have the means of talking to him privately. His obvious discomfort made her worry.
The road began a tortuous pace upward, weaving between large boulders and crevices. Her legs began to burn with the climb, but she did not want to seem weak. Birds chirped and watched them. Once she even heard the scree of a hawk, but she could not see it. The road ascended up the twisty path of a mountainside. They were climbing higher now, emerging from the green-hued stretch of forest. It was after midday and Hettie was starving. The Bhikhu offered them nothing. He just continued at a punishing pace, just hard enough to make her work at it. She knew she was holding them all back. The others would have been able to make it to Silvandom by then if not for her. She resented the feeling.
As Hettie looked backward, she saw the clouds of green leaves behind her, creating the illusion of rich green grass, undulating in the breeze. From that vantage, she saw other Vaettir crossing the forest. They had not encountered another soul along the way. Now she could see why.
The road climbed mercilessly higher, and she found herself soaked in sweat, trying to keep up. She drank from her flask, but the water was starting to run out. Still she pressed on, angered by the enigmatic guide who refused to speak to them. Kiranrao said nothing as well. Some insects had taken a special interest in him, especially some rather large dragonflies. But he did not swat them away. It was against the Vaettir way to injure any creature unjustly. She had learned that from Paedrin.
The steep climb changed the scenery dramatically. The higher elevations did not allow the thin, pole-like trees to grow. She saw cedar and pine and even some redwoods. The road was no longer made of hard-packed dirt. The sun tilted in the sky, making her see spots. She shook her head, trying to clear it. Paedrin touched her arm, looking at her in concern. She jerked her elbow away from him, furious suddenly.
Ahead, the road began to widen and opened into a scene of transcendent beauty. A dazzling waterfall thundered from the crevice of a mountain on the left, sending tendrils of never-ending water cascading down the side. There were interconnecting bridges and gorges, mounted into chasms that defied belief. Then she noticed the peak-roofed buildings that sloped and pointed gracefully. They were made of stone and timber. Chimney smoke trickled into the air, giving it a faint musty scent. She was breathing hard, wiping the sweat from her lip on her arm. The view was breathtaking. The structures each looked unique and perhaps a thousand years old. It felt as if the farther she walked, the more they had gone into the past.
Paedrin nodded. “She speaks true.”
“I do not doubt her honesty,” the man replied. “Only you do not seem the kind who would be seeking the prince. Are you selling something?” He started to move, gliding around to their right, watching Kiranrao all the while.
It was the Uddhava, Hettie realized. He was distrustful of them. Whether it was their clothes and appearance, she could not tell. Kiranrao did not move, but she could sense him poised, ready to strike.
“No,” Hettie said, stepping forward. “We bear a gift to the prince from Kenatos. He will be expecting us.”
“Indeed,” the Bhikhu said warily. “Then I will escort you.
Hettie saw a sheen of sweat on Paedrin’s brow. He looked wary also, as taut as a rope.
“Thank you,” Hettie said. “We will follow the way.”
The Bhikhu directed them into the woods until they reached a dirt path carved into the trees. Once they reached it, the journey progressed much quicker. It was a well-worn path with no scrub or weeds disturbing the carefully tamped earth. The wind caused the enormous trees to bend and wave, bringing out a shushing sound as the greenery embraced.
Their guide led them in silence. Occasionally Hettie saw the branches bend and drift as shadowy shapes bounded across their tops. She realized that the road was meant for visitors and that the Vaettir did not use it themselves. It amazed her. She wondered how long the Bhikhu had watched them before presenting himself.
The road began to climb and the journey became more difficult. The forest floor started to slope and dip with undulations, and large boulders began to appear in the forest. Some were carved with symbols. Others had faces. Occasionally there were small huts built off the road, made of thatch and the strange narrow trunks.
Hettie glanced at Paedrin. She expected him to be fascinated by his homeland. His people had come from Silvandom originally. She was surprised that he looked so tense, so ill at ease. Something was troubling him greatly. She could see it burning in his eyes. He caught her eye and looked away, ashamed.
With Kiranrao and the other Bhikhu there, she knew she would not have the means of talking to him privately. His obvious discomfort made her worry.
The road began a tortuous pace upward, weaving between large boulders and crevices. Her legs began to burn with the climb, but she did not want to seem weak. Birds chirped and watched them. Once she even heard the scree of a hawk, but she could not see it. The road ascended up the twisty path of a mountainside. They were climbing higher now, emerging from the green-hued stretch of forest. It was after midday and Hettie was starving. The Bhikhu offered them nothing. He just continued at a punishing pace, just hard enough to make her work at it. She knew she was holding them all back. The others would have been able to make it to Silvandom by then if not for her. She resented the feeling.
As Hettie looked backward, she saw the clouds of green leaves behind her, creating the illusion of rich green grass, undulating in the breeze. From that vantage, she saw other Vaettir crossing the forest. They had not encountered another soul along the way. Now she could see why.
The road climbed mercilessly higher, and she found herself soaked in sweat, trying to keep up. She drank from her flask, but the water was starting to run out. Still she pressed on, angered by the enigmatic guide who refused to speak to them. Kiranrao said nothing as well. Some insects had taken a special interest in him, especially some rather large dragonflies. But he did not swat them away. It was against the Vaettir way to injure any creature unjustly. She had learned that from Paedrin.
The steep climb changed the scenery dramatically. The higher elevations did not allow the thin, pole-like trees to grow. She saw cedar and pine and even some redwoods. The road was no longer made of hard-packed dirt. The sun tilted in the sky, making her see spots. She shook her head, trying to clear it. Paedrin touched her arm, looking at her in concern. She jerked her elbow away from him, furious suddenly.
Ahead, the road began to widen and opened into a scene of transcendent beauty. A dazzling waterfall thundered from the crevice of a mountain on the left, sending tendrils of never-ending water cascading down the side. There were interconnecting bridges and gorges, mounted into chasms that defied belief. Then she noticed the peak-roofed buildings that sloped and pointed gracefully. They were made of stone and timber. Chimney smoke trickled into the air, giving it a faint musty scent. She was breathing hard, wiping the sweat from her lip on her arm. The view was breathtaking. The structures each looked unique and perhaps a thousand years old. It felt as if the farther she walked, the more they had gone into the past.
