after—have been good to us. He would say little more than that and likely that would have satisfied Tam—but they practiced the arts of war with a deadly earnestness in the Vale. Every boy spent uncounted hours learning to ride, bear a lance, and fight with the sword. The bowmen of the Vale were as good as any in the land between the mountains, Tam heard men boast. It was true that the people of the Vale had been forced to protect themselves over the years, but such proficiency in war did not come from farmers and tradesmen. Often his father had ridden out to patrol the road. There was some unrest in the distant south then, and a steady, thin stream of stragglers flowed up the old road, most looking for peace and safety—but not all. Tam was only a boy at the time, but he remembered his father leaving. All that returned was word of his death. He'd been buried beneath some unmarked mound, and no one remembered where it was. The earth rolled over in its sleep and hid the crescent moon behind the shoulder of a distant hill, and Tam felt sleep coming over him. A last memory of his father wending his way up the path from their door, the horses' hooves sounding dully on the packed earth—the poor beasts moving slowly and hanging their heads as though reluctant to leave. Tam came awake to a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently.
"Path—?"
"Make no sound," Alaan said.” There are men in the wood nearby, and they don't approach like men who wish us well."Tarn sat up, straining to hear. The fire was ash now, emitting no light, but the smell of it was strong. Starlight fell into the ruin of the old tower, and, far below, the river tumbled among the rocks. The hollow sound of a boot on wood echoed dully, as though someone found unexpected roots in the darkness.
"I hear them," Tarn whispered. He would normally not be frightened of men in the dark—for likely they were doing as I Alaan had done and making sure Tarn and his companions were not cutthroats—but Alaan was clearly alarmed. He had a sword in his hand and seemed poised to use it.
Why do they seek him? Tam wondered. A low whist-whist \ sounded above him. Alaan's bird.
"I might have brought you ill fortune without meaning ' to," Alaan said, keeping his voice low.” If you have a blade or a bow, best to find it now."Tam pulled on his boots and snatched up his bow while Alaan woke the others. He crouched low, staring into the darkness. There were too many openings in the tumbledown walls. His eyes flicked from one to the other to another.
Something in the darkness. There is nothing so frightening as something hiding in the darkness.
"Who are they?" he heard Fynnol ask, as he scrambled up.
"Men to be avoided, I fear," Alaan said.” Follow me. Take nothing but weapons."He led them out of the ruin through an empty window, and the four went as silently as they could into the trees. Tam designated himself rear guard, straining to hear the sounds of pursuit.
What if Alaan is an outlaw? Tam wondered.
But he followed this thought no further. Heavy boot steps echoed through the ruin behind them.
"We are headed toward cliffs," Tam heard Fynnol hiss.
"I know a path," Alaan answered, not slowing. Branches whipped at Tarn's eyes, and bits of torn spider-web netted his face. He plunged on, following the others in almost total darkness. How Alaan kept to the trail was a mystery. Suddenly there was more light ahead, an opening in the trees—the road where it met the bridgehead, Tam was certain. Alaan brought them to a stop and turned back toward the others.” There are only three men on the bridge. They weren't expecting us to come this way." "But how did we get here?" Fynnol whispered.” There are bluffs between the bridge and the ruin." Alaan ignored this.” Listen to me. You've never encountered men like these. They are relentless in pursuit of their ends. Better they never know who you are. I will drive the men off the bridge. Cross over and don't stop until you're