Crossroads and Other Tales of Valdemar

Merris had meant to find either an inn where questions could be answered in travelers’ tales, or a temple where the priests might be welcoming to strangers. But there was no inn. One or two places looked like taverns, but they had a peculiarly deserted look. And there was no temple.

Every village that Merris knew had a temple, if not two or more. There was none here. “So where do travelers rest?” she wondered aloud. “And where does anyone worship?”

“On their boats, I suppose,” Coryn said, “or they go elsewhere.” He frowned. “It is odd. Maybe there’s a market town downstream?”

“I don’t know of any,” said Merris. “This is the chief town that answers to the Keep. Look, there’s the marketplace.” She pointed with her chin to an open space visible down the alley.

“Except there’s no market,” Coryn pointed out.

“It’s not market day, then,” Merris said, but her voice lacked conviction. “I could swear the books talk about the market. And there should be an inn—the Raven’s Nest.”

“I gather we’re not encouraged to spend the night here,” Coryn said.

He touched his heels to Selena’s sides. She went forward obligingly, playing the role of ordinary horse with perceptible relish. Merris thought she overdid the floppy ears and plodding step, but these fishermen were unlikely to know the difference.

Their lack of curiosity was beginning to bother her. No inn, no market, no temple—did traders really stop here? Or did they unload their cargo and get out as fast as they could? There were no other horses in the streets, not even a donkey, and no dogs or cats. Selena was the only fourfooted creature that Merris could see.

“No birds either,” Coryn said under his breath. “Does the air feel dead to you?”

Merris started to ask him what he meant, but she changed her mind. She suspected she knew.

The sun was bright and the breeze was warm, with a smell of water and fish and baking bread, all very pleasant. And yet it felt hollow—false. As if it were a painted backdrop, concealing . . . what? A fane of monsters?

She almost laughed. Her imagination was running away with her. There were fish in the river: she saw one leap well out toward the middle, a silver flash. And yes, there were birds. Black wings circled overhead: a pair of ravens, flying high above the Keep.

She had to get up there. If there was nowhere to stay in town, travelers must be expected to stay in the Keep. She slipped down off the Companion’s back, too quick for Coryn to stop her.

In a town with narrow alleys and people coming and going at inconvenient intervals, a man on a horse, or a creature like one, was at a distinct disadvantage. Merris gambled that the Herald would not leave his Companion. It seemed she was right.

Her back felt cold without Coryn and Selena to watch it. She clamped down the urge to run back to them. This was too dangerous to share with anyone else.

She was beginning to think she had miscalculated. There was nothing to put her finger on, but what she felt here was the wrong kind of wrongness. People were too quiet—too complaisant.

There were no children. No young adults, either. Everyone was older than she was—but not very much older. There were no old people, either. No white heads or wrinkled faces. Everyone seemed to be between the ages of twenty and fifty.

Young people could be in school, except there was no temple for them to be educated in. Old people should be sunning themselves in doorways or manning stalls in the market.

She hesitated at the bottom of the ascent to the Keep. It was supposed to be hers, but it felt completely alien.

Coryn was gaining on her. The Companion was faster than Merris had thought, and more agile at sidestepping people and obstacles. Merris bit her lip and started up the slope.

Part of the way was straight ascent, and part was a series of steps carved in the rock. There were no guards at the gate above, but Merris did not make the mistake of thinking it was not watched. What at first she took for carved ravens perched on the summit of the arch moved suddenly.

One spread its wings. The other let out a single sharp caw.

It seemed she had rung the bell. With clammy hands and thudding heart, she passed through the open gate.

The Keep was deserted. The passages were empty and the rooms untenanted. Cobwebs barred windows and flung sticky barriers across doorways.

Merris searched from dungeon to tower with growing desperation. The only inhabitants were ravens roosting on the battlements. From the thickness of dust in the rooms, no human being had lived there for years.

She dropped in a heap on the top of the tower. The wind blew cool on her sweating face, even while the sun shone strong enough to burn. “I don’t understand,” she said.

Coryn squatted on his haunches next to her. She squinted, but he seemed real. He was out of breath, as if he had been running to catch her.