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Chade have his own reins back until the houses were well behind us. The road bent, and beside a small
copse of trees, I pulled in at last. I don't think I even heard Chade's angry demands for an explanation
until then.
He didn't get a very coherent one. I leaned forward on Sooty's neck and hugged her. I could feel her
weariness, and the trembling of my own body. Dimly I felt that she shared my uneasiness. I thought of the
empty folk back in Forge and nudged Sooty with my knees. She stepped out wearily and Chade kept
pace, demanding to know what was wrong. My mouth was dry and my voice shook. I didn't look at him
as I panted out my fear and a garbled explanation of what I had felt.
When I was silent, our horses continued to pace down the packed earth road. At length I got up my
courage and looked at Chade. He was regarding me as if I had sprouted antlers. Once aware of this new
sense, I couldn't ignore it. I sensed his skepticism. But I also felt Chade distance himself from me, just a
little pulling back, a little shielding of self from someone who had suddenly become a bit of a stranger. It
hurt all the more because he had not pulled back that way from the folk in Forge. And they were a
hundred times stranger than I was.
They were like marionettes, I told Chade. Like wooden things come to life and acting out some evil play.
And if they had seen us, they would not have hesitated to kill us for our horses or our cloaks, or a piece
of bread. They ... I searched for words. They aren't even animals anymore. There's nothing coming out of
them. Nothing. They're like little separate things. Like a row of books, or rocks or-
Boy, Chade said, between gentleness and annoyance, you've got to get yourself in hand. It's been a long
night of travel for us, and you're tired. Too long without sleep, and the mind starts to play tricks, with
waking dreams and-
No. I was desperate to convince him. It's not that. It's not going without sleep.
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We'll go back there, he said reasonably. The morning breeze swirled his dark cloak around him, in a
way so ordinary that I felt my heart would break. How could there be folk like those in that village, and a
simple morning breeze in the same world? And Chade, speaking in so calm and ordinary a voice? Those
folk are just ordinary folk, boy, but they've gone through a very bad time, and so they're acting oddly. I
knew a girl who saw her father killed by a bear. She was like that, just staring and grunting, hardly even
moving to care for herself, for more than a month. Those folk will recover when they go back to their
ordinary lives.
Someone's ahead! I warned him. I had heard nothing, seen nothing, felt only that tug at the cobweb of
sense I'd discovered. But as we looked ahead down the road we saw that we were approaching the tail
end of a ragtag procession of people. Some led laden beasts, others pushed or dragged carts of
bedraggled possessions. They looked over their shoulders at us on our horses as if we were demons
risen from the earth to pursue them.
The Pocked Man! cried a man close to the end of the line, and he lifted a hand to point at us. His face
was drawn with weariness and white with fear. His voice cracked on the words. It's the legends come to
life, he warned the others, who halted fearfully to stare back at us. Heartless ghosts walk embodied
through our village ruins, and the black-cloaked Pocked Man brings his disease upon us: We have lived
too soft, and the old gods punish us. Our fat lives will be the death of us all.
Oh, damn it all. I didn't mean to be seen like this, Chade breathed. I watched his pale hands gather his
reins turning his bay. Follow me,boy. He did not look toward the man who still pointed a quivering finger
at us. He moved slowly, almost languorously, as he guided his horse off the road and up a tussocky
hillside. It was the same unchallenging way of moving that Burrich had when confronting a wary horse or
dog. His tired horse left the smooth trail reluctantly. Chade was headed up into a stand of birches on the
hilltop. I stared at him uncomprehendingly. Follow me, boy, he directed me over his shoulder when I
hesitated. Do you want to be stoned in the road? It's not a pleasant experience.
I moved carefully, swinging Sooty aside from the road as if I were totally unaware of the panicky folk
ahead of us. They hovered there, between anger and fear. The feel of it was a black-red smear on the
day's freshness. I saw a woman stoop, saw a man turn aside from his barrow.
They're coming! I warned Chade, even as they raced toward us. Some gripped stones and others green
staffs freshly taken from the forest. All had the bedraggled look of townsfolk forced to living in the open.
Here were the rest of Forge's villagers, those not taken hostage by the Raiders. All of that I realized in
the instant between digging in my heels and Sooty's weary plunge forward. Our horses were spent; their
efforts at speed were grudging, despite the hail of rocks that thudded to the earth in our wake. Had the
townsfolk been rested, or less fearful, they would have easily caught us. But I think they were relieved to
see us flee. Their minds were more fixed on what walked the streets of their village than in fleeing
strangers, no matter how ominous.
They stood in the road and shouted and waved their sticks until we were among the trees. Chade had
taken the lead and I didn't question him as he took us on a parallel path that would keep us out of the
sight of the folk leaving Forge. The horses had settled back into a grudging plod. I was grateful for the
rolling hills and scattered trees that hid us from any pursuit. When I saw a stream glinting, I gestured to it
without a word. Silently we watered the horses and shook out for them some grain from Chade's
supplies. I loosened harness and wiped their draggled coats with handfuls of grass. For ourselves, there
was cold stream water and coarse travel bread. I saw to the horses as best as I could. Chade seemed
full of his own thoughts, and for a long time I respected their intensity. But finally I could contain my
curiosity no longer and I asked the question.
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Are you really the Pocked Man?
Chade started, and then stared at me. There were equal parts amazement and ruefulness in that look.
The Pocked Man? The legendary harbinger of disease and disaster? Oh, come, boy, you're not simple.
That legend is hundreds of years old. Surely you can't believe I'm that ancient.
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