White Road

Alec.
    Thero took out a small cloth drawstring bag and handed it to him. “Hundred Year Plums. I guessed you hadn’t had any for a long time.”
    Alec eagerly opened the bag and offered the sweets to Seregil, who declined. They were made in Rhíminee, where a particular small, tart plum grew. Once harvested, they were pitted, stuffed with ground pepper, then packed in salt for months, until they were wizened and black, and looked as if they were a hundred years old. The combination of salt, tart, and hot wasn’t to Seregil’s taste, but Alec loved them.
    Thero sat down on the bed next to Sebrahn. “So you saved Alec again, did you? You’re a useful little fellow.”
    “But a conspicuous one,” said Seregil. “Your transformation is wearing off.”
    “So I see,” said Thero, taking in Sebrahn’s piebald appearance.
    Seregil turned Sebrahn’s face to the light, then pushed up his sleeves, showing the wizard the patches of blotchy white showing through the tan skin. There was more silver than blond in his hair now, too.
    Thero passed his hands over Sebrahn’s hair and shoulders. “It’s as if it’s worn off, like paint. I’m afraid all I can do is reset the spell and hope it lasts as long as the previous one. So, what will you do now? I assume you’re still going to avoid Rhíminee?”
    Seregil exchanged a look with Alec, then said, “We’re going to Plenimar.”
    Thero stared at him in disbelief. “You can’t be serious. Why?”
    “We have reason to believe that Yhakobin had books on how the rhekaros are made. If we can get those, it will not only tell us more about Sebrahn and how to handle him, but also keep any more from being made.” It had sounded better when they’d come up with the plan.
    “I don’t suppose I can talk sense into any of you?”
    “No,” said Alec.
    “Well then, how do you mean to go about it?”
    “I know a good man with a good ship, who happens to be at my beck and call.”
    Alec grinned. “Captain Rhal. I hope he still has that sighting charm nailed to the mast.”
    “He does,” the wizard told him. “I dined with him a month ago, aboard the
Lady
, and he had me make certain the magic was still in place on it.”
    “So tell me, Thero, where is that ship of mine?” asked Seregil.
    Micum and Alec shared an amused look. Seregil knew it was at his expense.
    Thero climbed onto the bed and sat cross-legged in the middle of it. “Give me a moment.” He closed his eyes and pressed his palms together, pointing away from him. After only a moment he opened his eyes. “He’s in Nanta harbor.”
    “Damn,” muttered Seregil. “It will take him a month or more to get here, this time of year.”
    “Indeed.” Thero paused a moment. “There is another route you could take, though it’s not an easy one. Do you know of Tamír’s Road?”
    “I know the queen’s name, but I didn’t know she had her own road.”
    “It goes through the central mountains of Skala from near Rhíminee to Ero,” the wizard explained. “It’s said to be the route Tamír the Great and her army took to outflank her usurper cousin for their final battle. Rhíminee was built on that same battlefield.”
    “And it still exists?” asked Micum.
    “It’s actually more of a trail than a road,” Thero explained. “The mouth of it is hidden, but I can show you. I’ve been down it with Magyana.”
    “And it comes out at Ero?” asked Alec. “I thought that city was destroyed back in ancient times.”
    “The city was,” Seregil told him. “All that remains of it are some ruins up on a hill, and bits of the city wall. There’s still a little village down at the harbor, though, called Beggar’s Bridge. I’ve been there a time or two. Rhal can meet us there.”
    “Is the trail even passable this time of year?” asked Alec.
    “It should be. The passes aren’t that high,” Thero explained.
    “I’ve heard that some strange folk live up in the mountains,” said Micum.
    “Yes, though you’re not likely to see any along the road. They avoid travelers.”
    “How long will it take us, do you think?” asked Micum.
    Thero thought a moment. “Ten days—maybe two weeks to Beggar’s Bridge, if the weather doesn’t slow you down.”
    “All right then. Tamír’s Road it is!” said Seregil. “Send word to Rhal to meet us there.”
    Thero cast a message spell and a little point of light sprang to life in front of him. “Captain Rhal, Lord Seregil sends word that’s it’s time to