White Road

swinging him off his feet. Sebrahn didn’t struggle as Seregil lugged him back, but he kept staring off in the direction they’d come from.
    “Where in Bilairy’s name were you headed?” Seregil snapped, puzzled and annoyed in equal measure. Sebrahn just pointed in the direction he’d been trying to go.
    “No, Alec’s over here and he’s hurt! How can you not know that?”
    A cup of water stood ready in the snow, and Micum had wiped the knife clean. Alec was still bleeding, and covered in gooseflesh.
    “Hurry now,” Seregil urged, putting Sebrahn down beside him.
    The rhekaro cut his finger and made half a dozen healing flowers, pressing each to Alec’s wound. It slowly stopped bleeding and closed up, leaving an angry pink circle of flesh.
    “That’s better,” Alec said, still breathing a little fast as he flexed his left arm. Sitting up, he gathered in Sebrahn with his good arm and hugged him. “Where were you off to?”
    Sebrahn just looked over Alec’s shoulder at his own footsteps in the snow.
    Seregil frowned down at him. “What I want to know is what could be more important to him than healing you? He knew you were wounded. That’s why he sang.”
    “Did it sound the same to you as his killing song?” asked Alec as he pulled his bloody clothing back on.
    Seregil shrugged. “I don’t remember, but the power of it damn near knocked me off my horse. It’s a wonder
I’m
not dead.”
    Alec pushed the tangled hair back from Sebrahn’s face. “Where were you going?”
    Sebrahn pointed again.
    “Yes, but why? Who were you going to?”
    Sebrahn said nothing, just pointed again.
    “Is someone hurt?”
    Sebrahn knew yes and no pretty reliably, but again he just pointed.
    “It doesn’t matter now. We’ve got other problems.” Micum picked up the broken arrow and wiped the head clean in the snow. “This is interesting.”
    “What is?” asked Alec.
    “The shape of this arrowhead, and the way the edges are serrated. It’s a damn lucky thing that you had a thick coat and were nearly out of range. I’ve never seen one like this in Skala, or anywhere else.”
    “I have,” said Seregil, frowning. “Some of the southern clans use arrowheads like that.”
    “You think someone followed us all the way from Aurënen?” asked Alec.
    “I don’t know, but that’s where that arrow came from.” He picked up the other part of the broken shaft. “See, it’s fletched with four vanes, rather than three. I’ve seen that among the Goliníl clan members.”
    “But they aren’t a southern clan,” Alec pointed out.
    Seregil twirled the broken arrow between his fingers. “No, they’re not. So we have a southern arrowhead on a Goliníl shaft.”
    “I’d say someone is trying to look like they’re Aurënfaie, but didn’t get their methods straight,” said Micum.
    “Maybe. Then there’s the question of the masks.”
    “They spooked me a little,” Alec admitted.
    Micum pocketed the arrowhead. “That’s why they wear them, I’m sure, besides hiding their cowardly faces.”
    “Actually, I think I’ve seen something like them, too,” said Seregil. “Not with the animal motifs, but the Khatme wholive up in the highest valleys wear some sort of slotted visor to protect them from going snow blind. It cuts down on the glare.”
    Alec stood up and flexed his shoulder. “That makes three clans.”
    “So who in Bilairy’s name are they?” growled Micum.
    “Aurënfaie, or someone pretending to be them,” Seregil said with a shrug. “Which makes me think that it wasn’t just happenstance that we ran across them.”
    “Ulan?”
    Seregil shrugged. “I don’t know how long his reach is, here in Skala.”
    Micum grasped his stick and pushed himself up to his feet. “We’re not going to be able to answer that unless we go back and search the bodies.”
    Seregil considered that. “Assuming they’re dead. None of us knows one of Sebrahn’s songs from another, but that didn’t sound the way I remember the killing one. Whatever the case, either they’re dead, and no problem, or alive and we don’t know how many of them there are, except they outnumber us. I say we head for the inn for now, and reconsider in daylight. Alec, can you ride?”
    “I’m fine. Come on, before they catch up with us.”
    “Then I’d better find the road,” Micum said as he climbed up into the saddle using his good leg.
    Seregil stood, holding his horse’s reins. “Micum?”
    “What?”
    “I don’t