They left Baght Town by the eastern small-gate, paying the gatesmen enough to let them pass quickly, and then promptly forget about them aftwards. Soon, the town was reduced to a mere a rumour of lights and far-off dwindling noises. Dog barks. Drunkards in the darkness. Occasional strands of music and piping. The sort of noises that carry a long way on cold still air.
It was strange to the boy, looking over his shoulder at the town, watching it fade. The place came so alive at night. Or, he thought, perhaps he shouldn’t have found it surprising. After all, they were in the Lands of Twilight now. A town like Baght would have its fair share of night-folk within its walls.
Some time passed.
Whatever had happened in the inn, the trouble didn’t seem to follow them out of town.
Before long, the four wanderers were lost in an expanse of sparse, stubbly fields and swampy moors that stretched eastwards and north from the town. The land grew more fennish as they went farther east, but there were low, tree-lined causeways criss-crossing the swamp in a dozen strange little snaking patterns–these allowed the travellers to keep their feet mostly out of the sucking patches of mud–and the thickets of wayside trees kept the travellers mostly hidden from view too.
Farms were noticeable in the passing gloom. Each had its array of soft glowing lights, and occasionally, the noise of voices also. As they walked nearby one small farmstead, aglow and murmuring in the darkness, the boy reflected on the people who lived so far north. He could just make them out as black silhouettes, moving about, doing their farm-work. He had never before thought about how people with moonrise bloodlines might celebrate nightfall in the same way that he was always happy to see dawn. Were night-folk afraid of things that go bump in the day? Do night-people tell stories of monsters that come by sunlight?
He had a sudden, strange thought. “Fleat?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Were you people once…” suddenly it seemed impertinent, and maybe even rude to ask. “That is, I mean, you turn into owls… were your ancestors in the service of the Night Goddess? Being night-birds. As you are. I mean.”
Fleat did look uncomfortable. His face blushed a little, and he replied, “We are free people now. In the very distant past, we were a daytime folk, like all Hobbes. But, yes, my ancestors make bargains with the night lady. Service in exchange for magic.” He hunched his shoulders and looked like an owl trying to hide from a cold wind. “But that was all long ages and ages ago now. Long ago and longer.” He added, finally and resolutely, “We are free now.”
They walked then for some time without talking, threading along the curving and interlocking causeways, until the land began to rise into low hillocks tufted with cantlebone and hexweed and dewclaw, all blowing in a light wind that had arisen from the east. They paused atop one of the hillocks to take in the lay of the land.
“There,” said Caewen, pointing. Some distance to the north-east stood the first glimpses of a thick, tangle of a woodland, growing and spreading under the moonlight until it seemed like a huge thundering cloud brought silently to earth.
“We should stop here for a few hours,” said Caewen. “I don’t want to meet Athairdrost half-out-of-my-wits from lack of sleep.”
Dapplegrim nodded. “Seems sensible,” and he added, jokingly, “Not much like your usual ways and manners. Don’t you want to go charging into more dangers? What’s wrong with you?” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you feeling well?”
Dapplegrim’s little note of lightness seemed to break the mood a bit. Caewen pushed her knuckles into his flank and said, “Oh, shut up,” with a happier lilt to her voice.
They rolled out bedding and blankets in the lee of a ridge. Dapplegrim stood above them on watch. The boy wasn’t sure how much sleep he got: he dozed off at once, and it felt like no time at all had gone by when someone was shaking his shoulder.
He heard Caewen’s voice drift down to him, gentle and soft as snow. “Time we were going.”
The boy rubbed his eyes. Every inch of his muscles ached. “It’s not even dawn.”
“No, but the nights are longer this far north. Dawn will a few hours away yet. And the day will be brief. Best to move now, so we have more daylight once we’re in the forest.”
“I guess that makes sense.” He got up and stretched, and yawned some more.