Though the conversation flowed over dinner, oddly enough the invasion, a topic which must have been on everybody's mind, did not come up. The Burning Light people probably thought and quite rightly, that we were from the part of the Morian population which would welcome the return of Julia Madraga with open arms. Although references were made to the fact that Mortality, Obedience and the two hired men had been training for several hours a day in one of the Parish Militias which would be defending Glassybri, most of the talk was of crops and the price of good horses. I had a sense that they were not sure when, or even if, the invasion would come.
Despite my bitter past, I could not help liking them very much and I found myself wishing that they all lived in Cardun where the invasion of Moria was so irrelevant that we had not even known of it last week. After dinner, when we women sat in the kitchen again, several people came to the door begging and were all given a warm welcome. Juba washed and dressed the wounds of an old man. I had not thought of Burning Light people as being capable of being good and kind like other people. I could not help feeling guilty at deceiving them. I had to keep reminding myself that any moment now I would surely make some deadly slip that would turn all that warmth into vitriol.
Voice of Grace, having been ill, was to sleep with her mother. I was offered Voice of Grace's bed in a room she shared with her sister. I dreaded sharing a room with one of the Burning Light and wondered whether I should insist on sleeping with my husband in the hay loft, but I found that they had placed a screen between the two beds so that I had my own private little cubicle and I was able to undress for bed without fear of my iron necklace being seen.
Next morning as we were leaving, Voice of Grace came to bid me farewell and to thank me.
She was a pretty young woman, but she was probably doomed to be the unmarried sister in the households of her brothers. Only a very committed man would have wanted to marry someone with falling sickness.
"In Gallia, they have healers who could cure your condition," I said softly to her leaning down from my horse.
Her face lit up for a moment, than it dropped. "Healers," she murmured.
"We pray often for my sister," said Mortality sadly. "It seems to be the will of Tansa that she suffers so. Perhaps she bears the burden of some family sin. Perhaps Tansa will release her one day."
"Mortality," said Tomas suddenly. "I saw the Gallian army of invasion when I was in Gallia. It was a very big army. It's a hard fight you'll be facing. I urge you to get your women folk as far away from here as you can and soon. They expect the army at the border in a few days."
"I thank you brother," said Mortality. "But the Church has taken steps for the care of our women folk already. When the invaders reach the border, they will be setting out for South for Sanctuary."
"Sanctuary," cried Tomas. "Good God! No! Please don't send them there. We have heard rumors of Sanctuary that bode ill," Reports from one who had been there. Statues that spoke and the sign of demons. If you want to send them somewhere safe send them to me. My family has an inn in Annac called the Inn of the Holyhands. I swear to you I'll try to keep them safe for the sake of your generosity to us."
"Necromancy," smiled Mortality. The word had relived rather than worried him. "Those who wish to discredit people always cry necromancy at them. I have seen no such thing in our Church and I doubt it exists. Do not be afraid for us. Our faith has never let us down. God and his Holy Son will protect us as is best for us."
Although Tomas repeated his urgings, he would not be swayed.
"Religious fanatic!" muttered Parrus. "What a fool!"
Yet I could tell that like the rest of us, his heart was darkened with forebodings for these kind people.
The following days travel was uneventful. The weather cleared. Rain was replaced by soft spring sunshine. The country became wilder. There were fewer farms and more woodland and the houses we passed were not as pristinely white washed. We saw fewer and fewer Burning Light followers and more and more ordinary Morians.
The low rolling hills continued. Except for the mountainous region around Mangalore, which formed a strong barrier against the Papal States and the Tyronic Duchies, most of Moria was low rolling hills. Then the Red Mountains formed a kind of spine down the middle of the country and beyond that was the great coastal plain that had once been the richest and most populous area of Gallia and was now the Great Waste.
It was such a clear night that we did not stay in an inn, but stopped under a low spreading pine tree by the roadside. We built a large fire and ate the food that Juba had given us that morning. I for one was glad of the privacy. Though there were fewer Burning Light people about, plenty of ordinary Morians disliked mages. Here we could talk about things. For the first time I showed Parrus my amazing iron necklace. He handled it gingerly, but with fascination.
"Do you think it could have some magic?" I asked him.
"I don't sense anything," he said. "Have your immensely superior senses felt anything?"
I stuck my tongue out at him.
"It's Wanderer make," said Tomas. "Look at these runes on it."
I had not really looked at the runes before. Most of them were completely new to me.
I asked Tomas if he knew the meaning of them, but he shook his head and said "I never learnt anything of runes."
"Marnie used to say that Wanderer magic works completely differently from ours," said Hamel. "She said they used more runes and that it was more powerful for that."
"Rune magic?" said Parrus looking skeptical, but nonetheless interested. "What do you mean? The Wanderers are just fairground fakes or hedge mages at best. They wouldn't have the skill to use runes. And magic is magic. What on earth do you mean by different magic?"
"More runes I suppose," said Hamel looking uncomfortable. "Look I don't know much about it. All I know was that Marnie told me Wanderer magic was much more powerful than we gave it credit for."
"Oh come on, that's just a legend, isn't it?" said Parrus. "Like that story about Wanderers being a great race of Mages who sat at the right hand side of the old Kings of Moria. Where has that magic gone then? You never see Wanderers at the White Colleges."
I'd heard those legends too and was still unsure whether to believe them or not, but Tomas seemed to have no such doubts.
"That's no legend," he said. "Anyone who has studied history will tell you it's a fact. When our people came to the Peninsula from Aramaya, the Wanderers were here. They were a tribe called the Klementari, a tribe of very powerful Mages and the New People as they call us, could not defeat them so the kings of Moria were forced to deal with them. The Madragas sometimes formed marriage alliances with them. There's a lot of Klementari blood in the Madragas. You can see it in their features. The Klementari in their turn helped the Madragas to forge a kingdom where all the other rulers on the peninsula could only control small dukedoms and principalities. 400 years of continuous rule is quite an achievement for one family. As a symbol of this alliance, it became the custom for the Klementari to place the crown on head the ruler, using iron regalia that they had made for the Madragas. This custom has survived Smazor's Run. Up until the Revolution of Souls, the fact that the greatest mage of the realm always crowned the Duke always caused trouble with the Patriarch."
"Presuming you are right," said Parrus. "What happened to these wonderful Klementari to make them the drunken layabouts you see nowadays?"
"Smazor's Run is what happened," said Tomas. "See, the Klementari had a very special relationship with their homeland Ernundra. Some say there was a race of spirits who lived there and guided them. Ernundra was on the other side of the Red Mountains along the Basane River. It was destroyed by Smazor and most of the Wanderer race with it. Some of those who survived killed themselves. The rest wandered bereft and became called Wanderers. Since then many of them have tried to forget their heritage and become like the rest of us. You see Morians with Wanderer faces all over southern and Central Moria - the product of marriages or of people who settled down and