The Hob's Bargain

more stubborn than the worst curse of nature.
    Wandel was on the last small incline when he stopped the mare. He slipped off his horse and walked to the side of the road. One of the paving stones was kicked out of place, leaving a deep hole and several loosened stones around where it had been.
    â€œLass,” he said to his mare, “in all my years of riding the Highway, I’ve never seen a cobble out of place before.”
    He remounted slowly, and watched the ground as he traveled; but there was nothing more amiss with the road. Not even when it disappeared under the still waters of a lake that occupied the valley where Beresford had been.
    â€œAnother rockfall,” he said softly to himself or the mare. “Half the mountains in this region are cliff-sided, with boulders falling every spring. I thought Silvertooth might not have been the only one to fall. At any rate, something dammed the river and flooded the valley, which is why the water level in the river has fallen so drastically.”
    The lake in the valley was deep—only the drooping tops of trees broke the surface where Beresford should have been. The water was mucky with rotting vegetation and worse.
    Tight-mouthed, Wandel turned his mare and rode back the way he’d come. By the time he rode into the yard of the inn, he was dusty and looked tired. The innkeeper’s boy gave the harper a curious look as he took the Lass, but was too well trained to ask the questions on the tip of his tongue.
    There was no one in the public room when Wandel entered. He set his harp and his travel bag down in an inconspicuous corner and ventured into the kitchen, where Melly was cleaning some pots.
    â€œMistress Melly?”
    She turned and wiped her wet hands on her apron as she hurried forward. “Why, Master Wandel, I thought you’d be in Beresford by now.”
    â€œSo I would,” he said without his customary good humor, “if there were a Beresford to be at. Lord Moresh’s steward and I had a falling out. Would you be so kind as to give me a room in your inn?”
    â€œOf course, of course, but it’ll take me an hour to air it out. What do you mean about Beresford?”
    â€œThe whole valley’s flooded, mistress.”
    Her face whitened, but she nodded and led him out to the main room, by tucking her arm under his and ushering him to a bench near the fire. She brought him a tankard of dark ale and, in his hearing, sent her boy to fetch Merewich and then see to the airing of a chamber.
    When the old man came, he sat down across from Wandel and braced a hand under his chin. “So, harper. Tell me about Beresford.”
    Wandel shrugged. “The earthquake must have dammed the river and flooded the valley. There doesn’t seem to be a Beresford anymore.”
    â€œDid you see any sign of the people?”
    The harper shook his head. “No, but I think they’d have had enough time to get out. A valley that size would take a while to fill. Since they haven’t shown up here, I guess they headed out to Auberg by some goat trail. It’s impossible to tell for certain, since the King’s Highway to Auberg is blocked.”
    â€œAh.” Merewich nodded and took a sip of the harper’s ale. “There’s an old trail over Hob’s Mountain to Auberg. Kith knows it. I showed it to him myself when he was a lad and his father sent him to help with the sheep. He’s not busy with farming, like most of the other men.” He paused, not mentioning Kith’s missing arm—the reason Kith wasn’t helping with the plowing. “It would do him good to take the trip.”
    â€œHob’s Mountain?” said Wandel.
    Merewich nodded. “No thornbush there. Only mountain in these parts that doesn’t have it. There’s a shorter trail between Carn and Harvest—they’re the mountains just south and west of Silvertooth, but you can’t take a horse through it.”
    â€œYou think Kith would take me to Auberg?” Wandel’s tone was reflective. “I’m not so certain.”
    Merewich sighed and shook his head. “Wandel, the folk here who aren’t related to someone in Beresford are married to someone who is. Kith will take you over and bring us back news—regardless of what lies between you. Perhaps someone there will know what has happened to the Beresforders. All we ask is that you agree to come back next year and tell us