‘This I have read also!’ put in Tseshya. ‘That is why they exist only within his realm, and by night, when illusions are at their strongest – as our friend Rysha will confirm. Some say it is because the Ice cannot tell the difference, because it thinks all men are mere shadows, with no spirit of their own.’
‘Indeed,’ said Asquan quietly. ‘Your son is surely dead, and I am sorry. But he does not walk in torment or slavery, nor have you turned him from your door this night. This I most firmly believe!’
‘If that is so …’ Oshur sat up, and his face also ran with tears; yet there was a dawning gladness on it, as clear as any sunrise. ‘And I begin to believe it must be, indeed … Then you have done me a comfort and a solace beyond my power to thank! May such grace follow you also! I cannot think how more to thank you!’
Alya leaned forward. ‘But perhaps I can, headman. That thing in the image of your son, it said it could not even see that great door of yours! Why? Because of the mist?’
The headman smiled grimly. ‘No indeed! Because of those ancient characters. That is their purpose, that their effect. For that they were graven into stone, many thousands of years since, and for that copied and recopied, ever since! Let me show you.’
He rose; and going to his high seat, he pulled out a clumsy key, unlocked the carven lid, and returned bearing something wrapped in cloth, which he laid carefully on the table. The scroll he drew out was slender, silver-mounted, in a style nobody recognised; and the coarse parchment crackled and flaked as he drew it open upon the table. There they are!’
‘This is very old,’ said Tseshya, studying it intently. ‘A text, surely, though none of us can read it!’
‘Indeed,’ said Asquan, puzzling over the text. ‘It defeats me. But of course you would expect to find such a defence preserved in a place where it is most needed.’
‘And yet only the first couple of lines seem to serve. Where they stand, all things of ill-omen are blind. That is how we endure, against the awful things that haunt this land; that, and giving up what is rightfully ours to the Ice …’ Oshur cocked a wise eye. ‘You are thinking of painting this upon your boat, perhaps?’
‘That might do,’ agreed Alya. ‘But better yet would be closer. Can you let us have brush and ink, headman?’
‘Easily enough; but there is little good paper—’
‘On our armour, our clothes, our skins themselves!’ said Alya. ‘Then we will be able to follow them close, indeed!’
Even Oshur in his grief had to laugh at the scene that followed, as they stripped down stark naked and traced the text across one another, over and over again. Rysha gave him as host the honour, as she put it, of painting her. ‘At least he has a flatter paper to work on than I do!’ said Vansha sourly, as he scrawled the characters across Alya’s broad back. ‘Hold still, damn you!’
‘Watch where you put those bristles, brother!’ said Alya warily. ‘Or I’ll have my revenge in full, next!’
But it did not take so very long, and soon they were dressed again. Alya sat with Oshur, talking quietly but urgently about their route; but the others he sent out to paint the horses. ‘In large letters!’ said the scholar sourly. ‘I’ll get kicked!’
‘Isn’t that always a scholar’s fate?’ chuckled Kalkan. ‘Now you can truly call yourself a lettered man!’
‘You could be a rather skinny scroll yourself, my lord!’ said Asquan cheerfully. ‘The official sort, with the tasselled knob on the end—’
‘At least I’ll contain something fit to read! Yours will read like an indictment of universal vice!’
‘Ah!’ sighed Asquan. ‘If only …’
Oshur watched in amazement. ‘All this, and no fear of where you are going, what you are doing? You are warriors out of the ballads, indeed!’
‘I’m afraid,’ said Alya quietly. ‘Perhaps we all are, even the strong men, the soldiers. But more afraid of failure, perhaps, of being no better off than we are now, with few satisfactions for all this effort, coming all this way. Unless we succeed, we will have nothing, no life to go back to, no homes … nothing.’
‘We do not have much more,’ sighed Oshur. ‘Enough to make a difference, maybe. I would offer you homes with us, for I pine for such company, and honour you. But folk such as you could not endure what we must, at every turn. I do so only because I must protect those beneath me, as my ancestors did.’
‘If you weary of that,’ said Alya slowly, ‘or your folk do, let them leave. Let them strike out eastward, for the coast, for the sea, for the new lands I believe lie across it, in strength and freedom. That way I will turn, when my task is done. Then perhaps we will meet again.’
‘I fear not, boy. But you have only to knock upon my door again, and it will be open to you.’ He stopped, listening. ‘More horses on the road! But no more live ones, now, of that I am sure! Go, with the blessing I had to deny my son!’
Swiftly they led their mounts through the hall once more, and Oshur nervously opened the doors a little. ‘You need not look out,’ said Alya. ‘Shut it behind us, think of us also as shadows that have passed. Yet not without remembering your kindness.’
‘Can I forget yours?’ said the headman, and his voice sounded weary but strong, as a man who has shed a burden. ‘I bless you and your coming, for your wisdom has lifted a weight from my heart. Fool that I’ve been! I should have understood sooner what these shadows must be, no more than the discarded skin of a snake, or a lark’s empty eggshell in the fields. The bird itself has flown. That, at least, I need suffer no more, nor my people. And by that much the malice of the Ice is driven back!’
‘Whatever blow we strike,’ said Alya, ‘your arm will be behind it. But now we must set out ourselves.’ He opened the door wider, and the rustle of hooves came softly through the mist. It was strange that so gentle and plain a sound could strike such a mordant chill into his heart.
Even Kalkan stood hesitant. ‘You truly mean to follow that … shadow? Into shadow?’
Alya met his eyes. ‘I do, my lord. It is our only road, though it may end for all or many of us. I am sworn, and so are you. Break your oath, if you will, and stay!’
‘I made no oath to follow a madman!’ hissed Fazdshan.
Rysha gave a slight shrill giggle. ‘Yes you did. We all did! I thought I could shroud myself in night and fear, and be safe! But that out there’s a deeper night than any I can bring, and more fearful!’
‘It is,’ said Alya calmly. ‘And I hold you to your word.’
Even Vansha was shuddering. I don’t believe this! You saw! Death is out there!’
‘So is Savi. So is life.’
Asquan alone smiled. ‘The world draws in, and our road grows narrow. I see only death and pain for us all before its end. Yet I am curious! I would see this path you’ve chosen for us, Seer!’
Alya nodded. ‘Then do not mount, but lead your horse and follow. It will not be far. You others, follow, or be forsworn in life and death alike. Headman, farewell!’
The old man nodded. ‘Even so. Yet even the darkest paths may find unexpected light. Strike hard!’
Alya and Asquan led their horses out into the dark; and Vansha was at their heels. One by one, with a curse or a groan, the others followed, trudging on unwilling feet, till before his ancestral door, with its unknown signs, the headman stood alone in the mists.
CHAPTER 9
The Eye of the Swan
THEY walked on in silence, and the mists clung about them, lit only by the moon. They could hear and see nothing, save Alya and his horse leading them; and of what he saw and heard, he told them nothing. But one thing was all too clear to them, as the hours of the night passed. Following any band of horsemen, there would be signs: tracks, dung, cropped plants, human debris. These left nothing. Alya felt there would not even be marks on the compacted clay of the road. Yet when the others closed up to him, on a difficult patch, they seemed to hear now and then an indistinct rumble of voices, a few harsh words.
‘What d’yo
u suppose they’re talking about?’ muttered Chiansha.
‘If they’re only spirits, why should it be anything?’ whispered Vansha.
‘They do what their masters imagine humans do, I think,’ said Alya quietly. ‘I don’t believe the Ice really understands these things aren’t real.’
‘You mean, they think we’re all just … chattering shadows?’
‘Yes. Just the sum of our memories. Because it suits them to believe that.’
‘Like it suits a cruel man to believe his horse can’t feel pain,’ said Kalkan, unexpectedly. ‘Or his slave. But if these things act like the men they were, couldn’t they turn on us? Might be bastards up ahead there we’ve slain already!’
‘You think that hasn’t been worrying me?’ demanded Alya wryly. ‘Stay as quiet as you can! But it’s worth sticking so close. They may shield us, this band!’
‘They may soon get the chance!’ rasped Asquan. ‘I think … they’re stopping. What’s that noise?’
‘Water!’ said Alya curtly, halting them all with a gesture. ‘On wood – a boat’s timbers, I guess. Keep quiet! We’re back near the river, now, but much higher up. Near where Oshur said the boats lie. From where the … the horsemen will make their way back up to the Ice.’
‘By boat?’ Darzhan shook his head. ‘I can’t figure this. Spooks need boats? Why?’
‘These …’ Alya shivered. ‘As I understand it, these aren’t spirits. The opposite; and worse. They’re the dead, walking. But more like … puppets. Shadow-puppets, maybe. Only the strings aren’t of horsehair, here. And the shadows … of the mind, I guess! Minds remade, from their memories, with all the skills, the experience they had in life, within a greater mind. A mind that can pull many strings.’
Darzhan’s whisper was shaky, in the darkness. ‘Puppets? They bring the bodies back to life?’
‘I don’t know. Oshur didn’t think so. Nor did the … other minds I touched. But they seem all too real, that’s for sure! They need boats just as we do. Great longboats. I saw them out on the river, when I scouted ahead. There should be many moored all along this bank.’
‘But won’t there be sentinels?’ demanded Tseshya.
‘There are always sentinels. But they’re posted more to keep escapers in, than people out. They don’t guard the boats, for who would want to go near them?’
‘Now I see!’ said Vansha, with a great gust of relief. ‘You think one boat full of live men won’t be noticed?’
‘I hope not. Not with the writings to help shield us; and in these mists especially. Oshur says they often hold for days, at this time of year. Maybe the riding is chosen for that, or maybe the mists are raised to shield it. But we must get past the guards somehow, or they will call out the Choosers. Don’t ask me of them!’
‘Did you also find all that out, scouting?’ demanded Asquan sardonically.
Alya looked at him. ‘Much that I couldn’t understand and don’t wish to. I saw this, from paths you could never tread.’
Asquan nodded curtly, though his eyes were hungry. ‘So be it, Seer. Listen!’
They all heard it, the soft boom of boat timbers underfoot, the slop and wash of river water as the boat rocked, the quiet whinny and snort of uncertain horses led aboard.
‘Are you sure they’re not …’
‘Very.’
‘But they sound so alive!’ protested Rysha fearfully. ‘D’you think … d’you think all men can come back, thus?’
She had her reasons for asking that, of course. ‘I guess not,’ said Alya at last. ‘Only those the Ice sets its mark on; those in its service, or within its bounds. Listen! More oars!’
They sounded very soft and slow, as if, like the shadow at the door, they were reluctant to depart. Two boats plashed quietly out into the mists, and a third cast off, in eerie silence; they could even hear the splash of the mooring rope, left trailing by uncaring hands.
Only too easily Alya could imagine himself sitting there, head hanging, the iron of endless servitude already fixed in mind and heart. He would not be real – but would he know it? Or would a new mind take shape, out of the old self? He battled furiously with the thought, the shapeless terror of death and extinction that borrowed its force from the deep wells of his mind. A great impatience surged up within, all the worse because he knew he was only giving a new guise to his fear. Yet it helped him, because it let him spare neither himself nor the others.
‘That’s long enough!’ he grated. ‘No more noises. Asquan, with me! On our bellies, and quiet!’
Asquan said nothing, but downed his weapons and slithered off like a snake – no easy task in a mailshirt, as Alya discovered among the coarse grass. The mist grew denser down towards the water, but they found the path easily enough. Asquan stared, and waved his hands in some deep emotion; but it took Alya a moment to realise what he meant. When he did, he shivered; the faint moon-gleam in the mists showed him prints on the wet clay, of man and horse, so fresh the haze was still condensing out in them.
But he shrugged, and slid forward. A moment later he caught the shadow of black water, and the glistening timbers of a ramshackle mooring. Beside it stretched three or four long, wide boats, shallow of draught or wholly flat-bottomed, and big enough for some ten places a side. They too looked old, their crude timbers slimed with moss and mould; but they rode the river easily enough, and they stood empty, the wavelets splashing against their low gunwales. There was no other sound all around them.
‘Paddles!’ exclaimed Asquan in disgust, as they sought the safest. ‘And a sculling oar! Almost big enough for two men! Evidently the Ice doesn’t trust its folk with arcane devices like oars!’
‘This one’s been repaired recently!’ said Vansha, testing the bottom gingerly. ‘You’re not telling me the spooks keep a boatyard?’
‘The Ice has plenty of living servants!’ said Alya, coaxing his nervous horse aboard. ‘These it no doubt values for their greater terror and indestructibility; but they cannot take shape far from the Ice. Under the sun they are powerless, so Oshur says. They exist fully only within the Grey Lands, Taoune’s domain. Within his thought, you could say.’
‘Which is where we’re going,’ said Fazdshan sullenly.
‘Which is where we already are!’ snapped Alya. ‘Make the best of it! Get in, and I’ll do the work!’
It took time to get all of them into the chosen boat, and make it stable and secure. Their nervous mounts had to be tethered to the slimy thwarts in the centre, and stood there shaking their heads and pawing the timbers uneasily. But at last all were aboard, and Alya seized the great scull and pushed them away from the crumbling mooring, out into the swirling mists.
Asquan tried to cast off the forward rope, but under Alya’s impatient strength it simply snapped. The stern rope flew off, taking a rusty cleat with it, and the boat veered out into the current. On the stern platform Alya clumsily fitted the scull into its socket, but he had little idea how to work it, until Asquan tactfully showed him. Then Alya’s arms shot the boat forward against the current as if it weighed nothing at all. The others took up the paddles, but only to steer, and that seldom. Alya kept the boat in the heart of the current as if he could pierce the mist with his gaze.
The others could not; but when they caught up with the other boats, they were all too keenly aware. Not only from the soft plash of the paddles in the waters ahead, the low rippling wakes on the green glassy surface. The deeper chill in the mist told them, and their faltering hearts. Around those unseen presences life itself seemed to gutter like a dying candle. They would have lost the will and the strength to drive the boat onward, if Alya had not held the scull. He felt that chill as they did, but the fires that raged within him only leaped the higher in answer, as he called upon them to the full. And since encountering Oshur there was a colder rage building up alongside them, that was wholly his own. And, before all else, there was the vision of Savi drawing him on. The others looked back at him, and drew strength from his tall figure at the ti
ller, and his implacable features, set flintlike against fear.
For hours he drove the boat on, deep into the night, and towards the dawn, such as it was. What light spilled through the mists was grey and grudging, and showed the little band only each other’s haggard faces. They were bleary and dirty, but they did not dare wash; the ink that tautened their skins was already blurring in the moist air. Alya would take no rest, but drove the boat on as if he were some fearful mechanism of steel and stone, untouched by fatigue or fear.
The water flowing around the hull seemed heavier now, black and glossy as onyx. And now and then in the murk strange shapes seemed to swirl to the surface and vanish again, with a glimpse of a slimy black back, or an arch of armoured scales, and a brief musky stink. The horses whickered and panicked at that; and once one, Tseshya’s, broke its rein and sprang overboard in mindless panic, swimming away beyond reach, into the mist. A minute later they heard a swirl, and a brief high scream; nothing more. They held the other horses more tightly, after that.
The light dimmed once more, as evening came to the mist-bound river. Alya heard the paddles ahead grow louder, as if they were slowing, or making more effort. Which way they lay he could not tell in the mist, and fell back a little. Night swirled about him, grey and hopeless; but the fire gripped him as firmly as his hands gripped the scull, and drove him as fiercely. Time rolled on, and he saw heads droop to knees, his followers sink down even on those slimy thwarts, worn out; but he felt no such urge. He knew how far they must go to pass the river guards; and he was too deeply afraid to stop.
So it was that the next dim dawn found him, still strong in his limbs but worn out in his mind, barely able to keep his reddened eyes open. Asquan and Fazdshan between them took over the huge scull, while he lay sprawled across a thwart in his saddle blanket. He awoke towards evening, stiff and clammy, with the boat still shrouded by the mists; but they were chillier and thinner now, and as they swirled and boiled, the watchers caught glimpses of a shore that was green or brown no longer, but barren and white with snow, often deep in drifts. Chiansha and Vansha had the scull now, but when Alya saw the thinning mists he came staggering aft in a fury. ‘We must keep up!’ he raged.
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