hours’ start on us,” Helki said, “and there’s about four hours of daylight left.”
“What did he want to run away for?” said a woodsman.
“Don’t be simple. He didn’t want to be a king. It scared him silly. And kids like to explore the woods, unless there’s something wrong with them.” Helki sighed. “I should’ve expected this. For two sniffs of a roasted rabbit, I’d run off, too.”
It took them some time to pick up Ryons’ trail beyond the watery tract. Before they could follow it much farther, a runner from the castle caught up to them.
“The chieftains want you back at the camp,” he told Helki. “Obst wants you, too. The rest of us’ll track the lad.”
Helki glared at him. The young man shrugged.
“We all know you could do the job easy enough without us,” he said, “but the old man said I was to insist. We ought to be able to catch up to the king. He won’t know how to cover up his trail.”
“Then I guess I’d better go!” Helki said; so easy, he thought, for a man to lose his freedom. He turned to a tall, dark-haired youth in green who was eighteen years old today. “I’m putting you in charge, Andrus. You’re the best tracker I have. Find the boy.”
“We’ll find him,” Andrus said. “You’ve taught us well.”
The chieftains were gathered in their big black tent—taking it seriously, Helki thought. They sat in a half-circle on their stools, with the king’s place conspicuously vacant. Obst was there, too, pacing, too upset to sit down. Abgayle sat apart with Jandra in her lap.
“You haven’t found him?” said Shaffur, chief of the Wallekki.
“Not yet,” Helki said. “I’d still be tracking him myself if you hadn’t called me back. You should’ve let me stay out there.”
“We’ve had a report from the scouts,” Shaffur said. “The plain is empty now: all the armies have marched past Lintum Forest. One of the cities on the river has fallen and been burned down: Cardigal, I think. They’re making all speed for Obann.”
“Which means the way back East might be open, at least for a while,” said Spider, the old chief of the Abnaks. “Some of the men think this would be a good time to get out of here and go back home. I understand them. I never thought I’d ever say this, but I miss my wives. I don’t think we should go, but there are those who do.”
Now Helki understood the situation. With the way back to their homes beckoning to them, the army might break up.
“It’d be a disgrace to abandon our king, though,” spoke up Zekelesh, chief of the Fazzan. Obst translated his words into Tribe-talk so the others could understand. “After all, we made him our king. The Great Man is not likely to forget it. We shouldn’t go anywhere without our king.”
There was some nodding among the chiefs at this, but Shaffur wasn’t satisfied. “Old man,” he said to Obst, “what is this that God has done to us? You said He gave us this boy to be our king, and we believed you. But now God has taken him away from us! What does it mean?”
Obst spread his arms. “How can I know?” he cried. “Maybe Helki’s men will bring him back before the next day dawns. Who can tell? All I can be sure of is God’s promise. The boy has been given the throne. Wherever he is, he’s still the king. We must have faith.”
“And what is faith?” Shaffur said. “I pledged my honor to that boy, and now he’s gone.”
“You are indeed pledged, Warlord,” said Obst. “But if King Ryons were here now, under what circumstances would you break your oath to him?”
“None!”
“That’s faith—a form of it. Holding fast to your pledged word, no matter what. But faith in God means believing that He will keep His word to you, no matter what! And God will keep faith with you, my lords,” Obst said. “He is with you even now.”
Well said, Helki thought—but would they believe it? Before he could find out, he was moved to speak.
“I don’t know
“What did he want to run away for?” said a woodsman.
“Don’t be simple. He didn’t want to be a king. It scared him silly. And kids like to explore the woods, unless there’s something wrong with them.” Helki sighed. “I should’ve expected this. For two sniffs of a roasted rabbit, I’d run off, too.”
It took them some time to pick up Ryons’ trail beyond the watery tract. Before they could follow it much farther, a runner from the castle caught up to them.
“The chieftains want you back at the camp,” he told Helki. “Obst wants you, too. The rest of us’ll track the lad.”
Helki glared at him. The young man shrugged.
“We all know you could do the job easy enough without us,” he said, “but the old man said I was to insist. We ought to be able to catch up to the king. He won’t know how to cover up his trail.”
“Then I guess I’d better go!” Helki said; so easy, he thought, for a man to lose his freedom. He turned to a tall, dark-haired youth in green who was eighteen years old today. “I’m putting you in charge, Andrus. You’re the best tracker I have. Find the boy.”
“We’ll find him,” Andrus said. “You’ve taught us well.”
The chieftains were gathered in their big black tent—taking it seriously, Helki thought. They sat in a half-circle on their stools, with the king’s place conspicuously vacant. Obst was there, too, pacing, too upset to sit down. Abgayle sat apart with Jandra in her lap.
“You haven’t found him?” said Shaffur, chief of the Wallekki.
“Not yet,” Helki said. “I’d still be tracking him myself if you hadn’t called me back. You should’ve let me stay out there.”
“We’ve had a report from the scouts,” Shaffur said. “The plain is empty now: all the armies have marched past Lintum Forest. One of the cities on the river has fallen and been burned down: Cardigal, I think. They’re making all speed for Obann.”
“Which means the way back East might be open, at least for a while,” said Spider, the old chief of the Abnaks. “Some of the men think this would be a good time to get out of here and go back home. I understand them. I never thought I’d ever say this, but I miss my wives. I don’t think we should go, but there are those who do.”
Now Helki understood the situation. With the way back to their homes beckoning to them, the army might break up.
“It’d be a disgrace to abandon our king, though,” spoke up Zekelesh, chief of the Fazzan. Obst translated his words into Tribe-talk so the others could understand. “After all, we made him our king. The Great Man is not likely to forget it. We shouldn’t go anywhere without our king.”
There was some nodding among the chiefs at this, but Shaffur wasn’t satisfied. “Old man,” he said to Obst, “what is this that God has done to us? You said He gave us this boy to be our king, and we believed you. But now God has taken him away from us! What does it mean?”
Obst spread his arms. “How can I know?” he cried. “Maybe Helki’s men will bring him back before the next day dawns. Who can tell? All I can be sure of is God’s promise. The boy has been given the throne. Wherever he is, he’s still the king. We must have faith.”
“And what is faith?” Shaffur said. “I pledged my honor to that boy, and now he’s gone.”
“You are indeed pledged, Warlord,” said Obst. “But if King Ryons were here now, under what circumstances would you break your oath to him?”
“None!”
“That’s faith—a form of it. Holding fast to your pledged word, no matter what. But faith in God means believing that He will keep His word to you, no matter what! And God will keep faith with you, my lords,” Obst said. “He is with you even now.”
Well said, Helki thought—but would they believe it? Before he could find out, he was moved to speak.
“I don’t know
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