In the Mountain Pass Above the Lorr Desert

What exactly was he doing?

Traveling with Valla was easier than he had expected. She never did sleep that first night, focusing instead on healing. He had been worried exhaustion might slow them down, but a single night of sleep had no more effect on her than it would have had on him. They trekked steadily after that, still slower than Doren would usually have traveled, but fast enough that they stayed on the schedule Valla had outlined. She was not completely healed, but she would be soon - the one exception possibly being the cut on her side that had bubbled so oddly with that oily power. She did not let Doren help heal her again.

As they walked, Valla explained the terms of the contract in more detail. He had not asked. Her composure did not break again as it had after the attack in the valley, but he had seen her confusion at his compliance. It bothered him how little interest he felt in the details of his agreement with her. Some of it was because he had been trained to honor a Promise. A Promise, once made, was always binding, so any terms after the fact hardly mattered – although of course, this was no true Promise and he was no longer an oath-sworn member of the Order. But old habits die hard, and as a Shamed and a freeman he still intended to live according to the code of honor he had been raised and trained to. Mostly though, he knew he wasn’t pushing for more details because he just did not care. His apathy was something he noted coldly, something worthy of more concern than he could muster. It was incredibly foolish to do any of this, and he had known that when he decided to go with Valla. He knew his lack of prudence had more to do with the stranger he followed than it should.

Although he was disturbingly unconcerned about the finer aspects of the contract itself, he was becoming more and more curious about Valla's past. Of course, the identity of her enemy was important, and it made sense for him to want to know more. Anyone or anything capable of binding her with a mage collar and, possibly, wiping her memory and leaving the vicious scars he had seen was no one to anger carelessly. If all went according to their agreement, though, it was possible he would never cross paths with her mysterious opponent. Or that he would only do so right before he killed Valla, and Doren found he didn’t want to contemplate that possibility. His curiosity about Valla's origins had much less to do with who her enemy was than it should have, though. As they moved toward the pass, he spent the first days since his excommunication without drowning in self-recrimination and regret. She called him an assassin, and practical, and an idealist, and he found it all bizarrely comforting. It soothed the aching gashes on his psyche where he had called himself a traitor, dishonored, and Shamed. She even sang sometimes, although he never quite had the courage to ask her to. He hoped she might play again too, but when they camped, she either helped with the setting of camp or she sat and focused on her healing instead. He knew this was reasonable but found himself childishly disappointed regardless.

The land they hiked through was no longer the temperate valley they had started from, the path climbing up through the red and golden leaves until they reached rocky pine forests as they moved up through to the steep pass between the western peaks that had overlooked the Witch's home. The cool autumn air grew bitter as they rose above the deciduous woods, frost lingering on the browned grasses that crept out between the granite until well past daybreak. There were ground squirrels and chipmunks and marmots moving busily through the lichen-decorated outcroppings, preparing for the impending grasp of true winter. The trail they took was well-worn, and only disappeared occasionally where scree or trees had fallen, but they saw no signs of any others on the same road. Doren was still vigilant, wary of the occasional predator or, worse, traps laid by bandits waiting for the occasional merchant caravans that he knew passed through this way towards the Paving. The trade routes between Allor and the Empire before them and Weiran to the south were treacherous but lucrative, and while the mountain trek from the Eastern forests was one of the more arduous, it was also one of the only links between the peoples across the mountain ranges.

All this made the location of the Witch and her hidden town stranger. Why settle in a valley where so many would pass through? As they walked, almost clambering up a rough slope alongside a stream that had cut through the stone to make a small ravine, Doren finally asked.

"When the Witch blessed us, what did that mean? You said you needed it so I could leave with you, and she said after she did that we would remember once we left."

Valla was climbing ahead of him, steps smooth but careful on the unstable path. "Without the blessing, we would have forgotten the town, and her, and everything that happened there. Instead, we would remember whatever would make sense. If we had new things with us, we would remember trading with travelers at a crossroads. If we left with black eyes from a bar fight, we would remember fighting each other, or falling, or something else like it."

Her breathing was even as she walked, occasionally bending to grab a boulder or tree for balance, the only sign that her injuries were still bothering her. She still wore the same loose clothing as she had at the inn, with her arms wrapped in blue cloths and her scarf hiding the scars Doren now knew were there. The cold of the mountains did not seem to affect her, even at night. The lute on her back swayed with each step, knocking gently against her travel pack.

"The town is hidden by her, and it helps hide her," she continued. "Many people pass through, and that trade keeps the town alive. And having a center there distracts from the Witch's presence in the valley is a distraction for anyone powerful enough to look for a Witch or something like her once they arrive. Most who come through the town are merchants, others are traveling for their own reasons, but they come and are surprised to find a place to rest. They do so peacefully - no bandits target a town that doesn't exist - and then when they leave, they leave without any memory of the place. Everyone stays safe, according to the Witch's creed, and She is left alone." Doren could see his breath, small clouds in the chill air.

Valla sighed. "I'm not sure if it will work forever. But it's kept Her safe and unbound from any master for longer than most Witches have managed. And since her only goal is isolation and peace, and the safety of that valley, her power might be enough to keep it."

"Why were we allowed to remember, then? Why trust us?" Why trust him? After all, Valla and the Witch had spoken as equals, even friends. But he had only been there for hours. Was the Witch's trust in Valla so unconditional?

They neared the top of this incline, moving faster as the gradient eased. "I don't know, fully. I think I was the first friend she had had in a long time. She saved me when I first appeared in the valley." Appeared. An odd choice of words.

"All the villagers are fairly simple people. Some have talents, but they are all sworn to stay, and only a few have chosen to leave. She compromised with those, I know, but none of the current folk remember those times, and no one has tried since. Not even old Horma remembers, but she tells the stories she heard as a child. Supposedly, they were allowed to leave with some memories, but unable to speak of the town. So far, it has all worked.” Valla paused, considering and somber.

“I do wonder if She really let them leave, sometimes."

Doren shivered, whether at the dark implication or at the frigid air, he did not know.

They reached the apex of this pass, and both stopped to look at the shallow valley ahead. The trail was visible for only a few hundred paces before it disappeared into a thickening pine forest. The mountains shadowing this valley stood imposingly, with no clear path through any one pass. Both of them knew the maps to have expected it, but Doren still held in a sigh at the promise of climbing another peak. He did not hide it well enough, though, and Valla gave a mocking but not unfriendly laugh.

"Tired already, assassin? You know it's only a few more mountains to go. Then we have the arid plains to look forward to."