Waterstone came and squatted down in front of him. “Don’t get angry with us just yet. Autumn Leaves did not relay your conversation to me. He sent out an urgent request for help just a few minutes ago. So, here I am.” The woodman twisted around and sat down beside Tarkyn. Autumn Leaves sat on the other side of him.
Tarkyn folded his arms and waited. He watched the woodmen’s eyes to check whether they were mind talking, but neither of them went out of focus. After a minute or two of silence, he said flatly, “Well?”
Waterstone gave a slight smile. “Well, nothing. I don’t know why you need my help but I’m here waiting to give it when you tell me what you want.”
Tarkyn frowned. “I don’t need any help that I am aware of.” His voice still sounded resentful.
Autumn Leaves glanced at him then addressed Waterstone. “I’m afraid my conversation with Tarkyn went badly pear-shaped. First I offended him. Then I really hurt him, by which time I realised I was way out of my depth. So I asked for your help to pull us back out of deep water before we drowned.”
Waterstone looked totally confused by the end of this explanation. He looked at Tarkyn. “Do you have any idea what he’s talking about? Because I don’t.”
Tarkyn sent a smouldering glare at Autumn Leaves. “He is possibly referring to the aspersions he cast on the honour of my heritage. Alternatively he could be referring to the contrast he drew between the way people treated him and me – not to my advantage, I can assure you.”
“And still I am in the dark.” said Waterstone patiently. He turned once more to Autumn Leaves. “Exactly what did Tarkyn say that made you call for me?”
Autumn Leaves looked uncomfortable at having to repeat the prince’s conversation. “He said he found it hard to keep believing in himself when both sorcerers and woodfolk kept wanting to kill him. Something like that. Especially when he knew that both lots of people were basically good.”
“The light begins to dawn. But Tarkyn, why would you be feeling like that tonight, when everyone around you is celebrating what you and Stormaway achieved today?”
The prince gave a bitter laugh. “Because it is irrelevant. It won’t last. Tomorrow, the knives will be out once more. It has only lasted as long as it has because I have carefully avoided saying anything at all tonight.”
Waterstone’s face tightened with concern. “Tarkyn, would you mind if Autumn Leaves replayed me your conversation with him? It might save us all a lot of questions.”
Tarkyn nodded shortly. “Go ahead.” While the woodmen were out of focus the sorcerer stared stonily into the middle distance, arms still folded, as closed off as he could possibly be.
When Waterstone regained focus he looked at Tarkyn speculatively, wondering how to breach the citadel. Eventually he said, “I think we should consider giving Autumn Leaves honorary membership of the harvesters and gatherers. I have rarely seen a more devious or more thorough demolition of a person’s honour, culture and worth.”
Tarkyn brought his glowering face around to stare at Waterstone. “I didn’t need Autumn Leaves to tell me all that. I know what woodfolk think about sorcerers, thanks to you. Other than that, he just crystallised what I had been thinking myself.”
“Which was…?”
“That there must be something fundamentally wrong with me, for all these people to turn against me. If enough people keep telling you the same thing, you have to start realising that what you believe is probably incorrect.”
“Hence the quips about being the friendly neighbourhood tyrant and an arrogant, autocratic bastard.”
Tarkyn frowned. “Who told you the last one?”
Waterstone gave a slight smile. “Sparrow asked me what it meant.”
Tarkyn felt his cheeks go hot. “Whoops. I’d better be a bit more careful with my language around her.”
“I wouldn’t worry. She’s around language like that all the time. As long as she knows that she is not allowed to use it until she’s older, that’s the best we can hope for.”
After a short pause, Waterstone returned doggedly to the topic. “I don’t know whether you realise this but there haven’t actually been very many unkind things said to you. Admittedly, Tree Wind has been a determined opponent. Other than that, Sun Shower made a caustic remark, which she subsequently retracted. Even after your forceful speech last night, many people came up and were friendly afterwards. Most of the oathless woodfolk have been singing your praises. And you managed to befriend Running Feet, the most alienated person of all, in the space of a morning.”
For a moment, Tarkyn looked convinced. Then his brow darkened and he said, “Yes but what about Andoran and Sargon, my erstwhile friends? And Kosar and Jarand? They were all willing to sacrifice me. Andoran and Sargon were absolutely ruthless about it.”
“So were your brothers. They just got someone else to do it for them.” said Waterstone matter-of-factly.
“So, people have set themselves against me in two completely separate societies and yet,” continued Tarkyn on a note of desperate triumph following the woodman’s ratification of his story, “Autumn Leaves has never experienced anything like it in his life.”
“Neither have I,” stated Waterstone baldly. “At least,” he amended, “not until I became allied with you.”
A flicker of panic flared in Tarkyn’s eyes. “So there must be something about me that sets people against me.”
“Of course there is,” said Waterstone calmly. Autumn Leaves’ eyes bugged out of his head with shock, while Tarkyn waited tensely.
Waterstone laughed and patted Tarkyn on the back. “You’re a bloody prince, you fool. Neither of us has any claim to fame or to a throne or to the unwilling allegiance of a whole host of woodfolk. Of course you’re going to strike problems we never have to encounter.”
Tarkyn looked at him, half frowning and half smiling.
“Don’t be confused between who you are and what you are,” continued the woodman. “I know they are inextricable, but it is your role that has caused you the problems and drawn self interested people like Andoran and Sargon to your side and alienated Tree Wind and co, not you the person… perhaps with the notable exception of Running Feet, but even that you’ve sorted out now.”
Finally Tarkyn broke into a full smile and shook his head. “I’m a complete embarrassment to myself sometimes. I have just let things grow out of all proportion, haven’t I?”
“Yes and no,” replied Waterstone. “To be fair, you have an enormous amount to deal with – having to work out terms of engagement with every new person you meet in a much more fraught, significant way than I’ve ever had to…” he grinned, “except when I met you, of course.”
Tarkyn’s smile faded just a little. “I do get tired sometimes, you know, dealing with it all. I think that was half the trouble this evening. Not to mention that I’ve just done the biggest, most complex piece of magic of my entire life.” He ran his hand tiredly through his hair. “All those people think I want to be the centre of attention but actually it’s more that they just assume that I will be. And it’s tiring having everyone’s eyes on you all the time, even when they’re friendly eyes.”
There was a companionable silence for a few minutes. Then Waterstone roused himself. “One more thing before we re-enter the hurly burly of your famous life. I don’t want you making any more extravagant self-sacrificial gestures. I know you were upset and felt we had all double-crossed you, but you didn’t come and talk to us about it. If you had, we would have told you about the woodfolk oath and you might have saved yourself all that angst. Instead, you dealt with it all on your own and nearly got yourself killed.” The woodman smiled faintly. “I have to hand it to you. You did achieve great things that day but I think part of your success was that you felt you had nothing left to lose and so took inordinate risks.”
Waterstone raised his eyebrows interrogatively and Tarkyn nodded reluctantly in reply.
The woodman continued, “Please, whatever happens, at least give us t
he chance to sort it out with you first and don’t put yourself at unnecessary risk, for our sakes as well as yours.”
Tarkyn eyed him sideways. “You sound awfully like a bossy older brother,” he said, not sounding too sure that he liked it.
“Then you can have a lovely time commiserating with Ancient Oak about it,” replied Waterstone, completely unmoved.
“All right. All right. Point taken.” Tarkyn rose to his feet and put out his hands to haul the other two up. “Come on then. Back into harness.” So saying, the prince walked with them through the quiet darkness and back into the glare of the crowded firelight.
38
As soon as the prince entered the light, Ancient Oak pounced on him. “Ah, there you are. We were wondering where you’d got to.”
Tarkyn threw a dry look at the other two before submerging himself in the conversation. “What did you want me for?”
“We think we’ve worked out who might be missing,” said Falling Branch.
“There aren’t many people unaccounted for. We’ve checked with everyone we can think of. There are only two possibilities left,” continued Ancient Oak.
“Falling Rain is an obvious possibility,” put in Rainstorm with a shrug. “But the other possibility is Golden Toad’s family.”
Tarkyn raised his eyebrows. “Golden Toad?”
“Yes,” said Waterstone repressively before Tarkyn could say anything offensive. “He has a very low, stop-start sort of a voice.”
“I see.” Tarkyn’s eyes shone with amusement.
“Anyway, as I was saying,” said Rainstorm, firmly regaining the prince’s attention, “Golden Toad’s family contracted some sort of virus a few years ago which caused them to lose their ability to mind talk. They tend to keep to themselves down around the southern marshes.”
“How very apt,” said Tarkyn irrepressibly.
Rainstorm frowned briefly at the distraction but was so focused on what he was saying that he didn’t catch the implication. “So we haven’t been able to contact them to see if they are all right.”
“So we were wondering…” Ancient Oak began but then broke off looking uncertain.
“We were wondering, Your Highness,” continued Falling Branch, taking over from him. “If you might be able to use a bird or animal to look for them for us.” When Tarkyn didn’t reply instantaneously, he continued hurriedly. “Not if you think it would be too much of an imposition. It’s just that it will take several days for some of us to travel there and that would be lost time if we could find out sooner.”
Tarkyn waved a hand to silence everyone. “Of course I will help if I can. Just give me a minute to think.” He paced up and down a couple of times then stopped. “How far away are these marshes and who has been there most recently?” The prince realised everyone was looking disappointed. “Give me a chance. I’m not planning to send those people back down there. I just need someone to guide my mind.”
“I know the area quite well,” offered Running Feet. “I’ll help.”
Ignoring the faint ripple of surprise that ran through Tree Wind’s group, Tarkyn smiled. “Thanks. You’re good at explaining terrain and have a clear eye for detail. I noticed that this morning. Do you know what they look like or what their shelter may look like? I’ll need to know if I’m going to try to recruit a creature of some sort to look for them.”
“If you can do that, why don’t you just send in an animal to look in the encampment for woodfolk?” challenged Tree Wind, suddenly entering the discussion.
Tarkyn turned to look at her. Everyone, aware of Tree Wind’s antagonism, waited with baited breath for the prince’s response. “You know,” he said quietly, “when I first entered the forest, I was impressed by your courage and your fighting spirit. Before I understood the structure of woodfolk society, I thought you might be their leader. You are quick-witted and intelligent. Every time you have queried my ideas, they have been sound queries, just as now.”
“Of course they are,” she replied caustically. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Whereas I don’t,” supplied the prince for her.
In response, she just stood and stared at him belligerently.
He surprised her by smiling. “Of course I don’t. I’ve only been in the woods for a little over a month - and for a fortnight of that time, I was unconscious. You’ve been here all your life. Ask Sparrow. She’ll tell you. I’m hopeless at directions. I couldn’t even tell you where north is at the moment.”
Tree Wind’s expression became, if anything, more disdainful.
Tarkyn continued unabashed. “I know nothing about lighting fires, fending for myself, building shelters, recognising animal tracks, hunting, cooking. You name it, I can’t do it.”
A burble of quiet laughter wafted around the assembled woodfolk.
“Not only that, but I’m not particularly interested in doing a lot of those things. In fact, I am a constant drain on other people’s resources.” Tarkyn swept a friendly smile around his audience. “Traditionally, that’s what a prince is – a constant drain on other people’s resources. However,” the sorcerer’s voice grew serious, “I do possess skills, knowledge and power that you do not have, Tree Wind. If you will work with me instead of competing with me, I will give you free access to my skills and power. I have already done so with the woodfolk I have been with and I will do so for anyone who requests them for the welfare of woodfolk.”
Tree Wind still did not reply but was now looking speculatively at him.
“And in answer to your question, I think that is a very good suggestion; to use a creature to reconnoitre the encampment.” The prince did not give Tree Wind the sole right to decide. He looked around at everyone. “As you all know what you’re doing and I don’t; which should I do first? Look for Golden Toad down in the southern marshes or inspect the encampment, assuming I can do either? You decide and get back to me. I need a glass of wine.”
A babble of voices immediately broke out behind him as Tarkyn turned away to find something to drink. Autumn Leaves thrust a glass into his hand.
“Thanks,” said Tarkyn briefly, his eyes twinkling with laughter.
“You are up to tricks, young Tarkyn,” observed Waterstone with an answering smile. “You are much more capable than that impression you just gave.”
The prince grinned. “Of course I am, but I don’t need to tell them that. Now they, and particularly Tree Wind, can feel happily superior about some things at least.”
“What happened to your sanctimonious position about not giving false impressions?” asked Autumn Leaves dryly.
Tarkyn had the grace to look embarrassed. “Yes. Good point. I could say, ‘But I didn’t tell them any lies’ but as I recall, you said that to me and I wouldn’t wear it.” The prince sighed, “Well, there’s nothing for it. I’ll have to turn back around and explain to them that I’m absolutely superior in every way.”
“No,” chorused the two woodmen.
“Anyway,” added Waterstone, “You’re not. So then you would be compounding a false impression with a string of lies.”
“Well, I can console myself with the belief that they already had a false impression of me as threatening, all powerful and arrogant. So I’ve just replaced it with a new one in which I’m pathetic and helpless.” He smiled unrepentantly at them “Perhaps the two will cancel each other out to be somewhere near the truth?”
An increase in volume behind them indicated that all was not well. When the prince turned back around, he realised that the discussion had galvanised the woodfolk into two groups; those for and those against him.
“Ooh dear,” said Tarkyn under his breath to Autumn Leaves and Waterstone. “This could be going better.” He surveyed the crowd. “Well, at least we are clear now on where the lines are drawn.”
The prince took a deep breath and when he next spoke, his voice cut sharply through the night air, “Last night I told you that I was not prepared to countenance any debates that are based on politics
, rather than on the issues themselves. Yet here we are, clearly divided over a virtual non-issue on the grounds of loyalty.”
He bent down and picked up a stone. Placing his hands behind his back, he said, “Tree Wind, come over here please.”
When she hesitated, he said evenly. “That was not a request.”
Once she was standing before him, he explained, “The hand with the stone in it is the encampment. The other hand is the marsh. One person from each camp, please stand behind me to make sure I don’t cheat.” As an embarrassed murmur greeted this request, the prince said sternly, “I’m waiting.”
Once everyone was in place, Tarkyn moved the stones back and forth between his hands behind his back, then stopped. He nodded at Tree Wind. “Choose.”
Tree Wind’s eyes snapped. “This is ridiculous!”
“I couldn’t agree more,” said the prince. “Nevertheless, choose!”
Glaring furiously at the prince, she pointed at his right arm. His hand came around to the front with the stone clearly held in it.
“So be it.” Tarkyn’s angry gaze swept across the crowd before him. “If, at any time in the future, I become aware that the issues alone are not guiding your decision making, then I will have three courses of action open to me; I can withdraw my offer of assistance, I can make the decision myself or I can leave it to chance. None of those strikes me as being outcomes you would prefer.”
The prince’s eyes narrowed as he contemplated the group against him, “Once I have completed this task, I wish to speak alone to the group who chose the encampment, before any of you leaves. Either tonight or tomorrow morning, depending on how long we take. That, also, is not a request.” He looked around until he spotted Running Feet, standing next to Thunder Storm. “Now if you will excuse us, Running Feet and I have work to do.”
The prince turned on his heel and strode out into the darkness, with Running Feet hard on his heels. Once they were well away from the firesite, the moonlight took over and they found themselves walking through a monochromatic vista of towering trees, dark, hunched bushes and soft grasses.
Bronze Magic Page 45