by Maggie Furey
Though the sun was obscured by grey clouds that were producing a fine drizzle, an hour of daylight remained as Iriana and her companions crested the last windswept ridge of the rolling green downs, and caught their first sight of the town. Iriana’s view through the eyes of the eagle was better than that of the others. Seen from above, this northern outpost of the Wizardly civilisation was an unimpressive sprawl of primitive wooden buildings, centred on an island in the midst of a broad river that flowed through the valley, and spreading out along the banks and up the slopes on either side. According to Esmon, the buildings on the island now belonged to the northern branches of the Luens, providing housing as well as buildings set aside for teaching, study and experimentation. They seemed to have been erected with more thought and care than the remainder of the town, which was being constructed more with a view to speed, utility and expedience than any consideration of either beauty or permanence.
As the travellers rode down the last slope and into the outskirts of the town, Iriana shifted her vision from the lofty perspective of the eagle, changing to the eyes of the cat Melik, who was perched on the saddle in front of her. With a shrill whistle, reinforced by a mental summons, she called Boreas down from the skies. Esmon had warned her that one of the main sources of income round here was sheep, and she didn’t want anyone shooting the great bird out of the skies because of the threat he undoubtedly posed to the half-grown lambs that dotted the hillsides. The eagle took his accustomed perch on top of the baggage on the patient packhorse - though as she dropped back to fasten the jesses, Iriana shuddered at the memory of the trouble she’d had teaching Boreas to ride there, and training the horse to accept the bird.
At close quarters, the differences between this raw, young northern settlement and stately Tyrineld were even more numerous and marked. In the ancient city of the Wizards, life proceeded on its orderly course, calmly and unhurriedly, with little changing from day to day. Here in Nexis, everything seemed to be in a constant state of flux as people worked hard to establish a new town in the wilderness.
Around the perimeter of the settlement, a thicket of tents had sprung up. ‘Those are to house the folk who are still building, and the traders who are earning their stake to settle here,’ Esmon pointed out. When Iriana looked more closely, she realised that the tents were a community of their own. Many folk were trading from the flimsy shelters, and in addition to merchants, she saw grog-shops, gambling dens and bawdy houses.
New buildings, in various stages of construction, were going up wherever there was a space, particularly around the edges of the settlement as it spread out into the countryside. Massive tree trunks, the branches of which must have been lopped off at the site where the trees had been felled, had each been chained down to two pairs of great wooden wheels, and were being drawn by teams of horses along the well-travelled track that led across the moors between Nexis and the edge of the forest. Their destination was a timber yard: a generously sized stockade that boasted a large, barnlike building and a collection of smaller sheds. Here the trees were stripped of their bark, planed smooth and sawn into the struts, planks, logs and shingles that would be used in the many structures that were currently in various stages of completion around the town by the teams of human slaves that swarmed all over the crude, skeletal frameworks of homes, stores and workshops.
As they rode along the rudimentary street that led down to the river, Iriana shivered in the cold wind that gusted down from moor and mountain, and felt the prickle of the moisture-laden air against her face as she pulled up her hood against the grey, misting drizzle. In this place, it was impossible to believe that it could be summer. ‘If it’s like this now, what is it like in winter?’ she asked Esmon.
The Warrior Wizard made a wry face. ‘Believe me,’ he said, ‘you don’t want to know.’
Iriana was finding Nexis something of a disappointment. She missed the benign breezes of home; the cleanliness and order; the beautiful, ancient buildings and the mingled fragrances of ocean, blossom and herb with which she had grown up in her own temperate city. In Nexis, the predominant smell was woodsmoke, mingled with tar, new timber, the mixed aromas of supper cooking in the houses that she passed, animal dung and the damp, fresh odours of river, mist and rain. The inhabitants of the place appeared rude and uncouth to her: it hardly seemed possible that these rough-hewn people could be of the same race as the cultured inhabitants of Tyrineld.
As Iriana and her companions entered town, all sounds faltered for a moment as a wall of curious and sometimes hostile eyes stared at Iriana’s animal companions, and the winged mask that Esmon still wore openly on his face. Over and over again, Iriana had to tell herself sternly that they weren’t staring at her; that they couldn’t know, just from looking at her, that she was blind. But no matter how much she tried to reassure herself, it was still unnerving, and sometimes even frightening, to be the focus of so many eyes. Once they had passed, the clamour broke out again behind them, made all the louder by the buzz of gossiping voices.
It seemed to Iriana that no one in this place could do anything quietly. She found herself actually flinching from the ear-bruising din: the rasp of saws; the rhythmic tapping of hammers; the scrape of planes smoothing wood; the loud clunks and thuds as the great baulks of timber were raised into position by levitation spells and the sturdy logs were dropped into place to form walls. Workmen bawled orders and curses; cartwheels rumbled; harness jingled and hooves clopped on the hard-packed surface of the road. People shouted greetings, instructions and imprecations at the tops of their voices, and shopkeepers stood calling out their wares in the doorways of their shops or from their roughly built stalls, which were little more than a wooden table with a canvas awning stretched above on a rickety frame.
Melik’s ears flattened and he growled softly to himself as dogs ran about everywhere, barking loudly and adding their own contribution to the unearthly racket, with the pigs, chickens and other livestock doing their best to compete. Children yelled and shrieked as they raced around, getting under the feet of builders and risking the wheels of the carts with such reckless disregard for danger that they brought Iriana’s heart into her mouth again and again. In a stone-built forge near the river, a sweating blacksmith was fabricating tools with the ear-splitting clangour of metal being hammered, followed by a long, searing hiss as its glowing heat was quenched in water.
As Iriana observed the Nexians, she suddenly felt very far from home. The people here were not just noisier than those in Tyrineld. She could sense something more: there was a rough-and-ready exuberance among the bustling inhabitants of the young settlement. Wizard and mortal alike went about with quick, purposeful strides, as if there were too many tasks to fit into their day. There was no sign of the brightly coloured, flowing robes worn by the Wizards of the great southern city. Here folk wore sturdy, utilitarian garb of leather and wool that allowed for quick and easy movement, as well as providing warmth and protection from the cold, damp northern climate. Even most of the women were clad in jerkins, shirts and trousers, just as Iriana and her companions, on Esmon’s advice, had clothed themselves for their journey.
As far as the Wizard was concerned, there was one good thing about the place - the animals. Ducks and geese, magically marked with the colours and symbols of each owner, fished and swam in a rainbow flock at the river’s edge, guarded by a barefoot little girl armed with a long stick, while three smudge-faced, ragamuffin boys, aided by a pair of rangy dogs, kept watch over a straggling flock of goats on the hillside above the town. In Tyrineld, no one would think of keeping farm animals in the city: butter, cheese, meat and eggs, as well as wool and hides, all came from farms beyond the city’s bounds. Here, there seemed to be pigs and chickens in every back yard - and even, to her astonishment, the occasional cow. People kept their horses right beside their houses in rickety lean-to stables. Iriana approved of that. How often had she wished she could keep Dailika closer, instead of being forced to house her in the stables on the outs
kirts of Tyrineld?
Esmon led them down to the ford on the southern bank, but instead of wading their horses across the river to the island they turned left, and went a little way downstream. The only inn in Nexis was here, beside a simple bridge of planks balanced on piers of stone; just wide and robust enough to be crossed on foot.
Avithan viewed the flimsy-looking structure with a frown. ‘Why don’t they build a better bridge?’ he asked Esmon. ‘One wide enough to take carts and horses, instead of making people get wet sloshing through the river?’
The Warrior shrugged. ‘I expect they will, eventually. Right now, though, their priorities are shelter, security and the means to make a living. Once the town has been established a little longer, I dare say they might get around to a proper bridge. There’s one that you can’t see from here, however. It goes from the northern bank to the other side of the island. The river there is too deep to ford, but here on the south side, the water is so shallow and silted that it’s easy to get across - for most of the year, at least.’
By that time, Iriana had lost track of the conversation. She was scarcely listening to her two companions. Now that she had seen Nexis for herself, she was even more puzzled as to why Challan had abandoned his home and family in Tyrineld to come to this rough, isolated place. Why would anyone want to exchange the luxuries of Tyrineld, with its beautiful aspects and temperate climate, for this cold, wet backwater at the far end of nowhere? Why would Challan abandon a kind soulmate and a loving family for this?
It only supported her conviction that his leaving had been her fault. Her real parents hadn’t wanted an abnormal child, so why had she expected more from her adopted father? She knew this notion was souring her relations with others, but she couldn’t help it. For Iriana, to love someone held the very real risk of driving them away, and she would not chance that hurt again. As she grew up, she had learned to build barriers to hide her true feelings, and had always been careful to keep a slight but perceptible distance between herself and even her closest friends. It was safer to be close to her animals. At least she could be sure that their love was unconditional, and they didn’t give a damn whether her eyes worked or not.
For years, she had tried not to think of the foster-father who had abandoned her, but now that she had come to Nexis, she could afford that luxury no longer. Challan was here, and though she was dreading the meeting, she could not avoid it. She didn’t plan to seek him out because of love. All her regard and affection for him had perished a long time ago. But this might be the only chance to clear up some of the questions and doubts that had tormented her family for so many years, and she was determined not to miss the opportunity.
The inn was so new that Iriana could still smell the freshly cut timber with which it was built. A few extra coins from Esmon had ensured the innkeeper’s cooperation in the matter of her bringing her animals into her room with her, though when he saw Boreas, his eyes grew so wide that Iriana was surprised they didn’t fall out.
Iriana’s chamber was fairly clean and very basic, containing only a bed made up with hairy and grey woollen blankets, a rickety wooden washstand with a pewter jug and bowl, a roughly built table and chair and wooden shutters to cover the windows. A row of nails was driven into the wall for hanging up clothing and equipment. She fed Melik and released Seyka from her carrying basket before feeding both birds of prey. As they travelled, it had already become her self-imposed task to tend to the horses, but for one night, it made a pleasant change to have someone else feed and groom them. Instead she washed and dug some clean clothes out of her pack, and when Esmon came to call her downstairs to eat, she was more than ready - she was ravenous.
The food was plain but solid, and there was plenty of it. Iriana had her first taste of moose meat - strong, rich and gamey - in a stew with onions and beans. It was good, she decided, once she got used to it. As she ate, she decided that this would be as good a time as any to tell her companions about her plans. With a hand on his arm, Esmon stopped Avithan from exploding into speech when she announced that she planned to visit her foster-father that evening, and looked at her with a flicker of concern darkening his eyes. ‘Does Zybina know you’re planning this?’
‘Yes. We talked about it.’ Iriana was glad, now, that they had. ‘She’s uneasy about the idea, but she understands that I have to try.’
Esmon nodded. ‘Well, it’s not my business. I barely knew Challan when he lived in Tyrineld.’ She could sense his sympathy as he leant towards her. ‘Iriana, sometimes people just change. It’s like avalanches in the mountains. Sometimes any number of seemingly insignificant things, barely noticeable at the time, will build and build until—’ He made an abrupt sweeping gesture. ‘And like a real avalanche, the results can be very hard on the innocent bystanders in its path. Of course—’ He took another mouthful of stew, chewed and swallowed. ‘Of course, other avalanches are triggered by a single, major event: a falling rock, maybe, or a loud noise. However they start, it makes no difference to the people in their path. You still get the loss, the damage, the pain.’ He looked at her very directly. ‘After all this time, does it really matter how the avalanche got started?’
Iriana was impressed by his words and the understanding behind them. They invited serious thought, and she remained silent, keeping Melik’s eyes fixed on her plate, while she considered. This would be an easy way out for her, she realised. Was Zybina right when she said that no good would come from digging up the past? Yet . . . All those years of wondering, of not knowing, of blaming herself. And what about Yinze, the brother who was as much a part of her as if they had come from the same womb? How could she not make the most of her chance to spare him the pain of this meeting?
And I’m fooling myself. I know that whether I do this or not, Yinze will come anyway. All these years he has just been waiting for the time to be right - and so have I.
Iriana turned back towards Esmon, and trained Melik’s gaze on his face. ‘I have to do this. Zybina warned me that whatever I hear from Challan will make me unhappy, and I suspect she’s probably right. But I have to know. Only then can I put him in the past, where he belongs.’
Esmon nodded. ‘I understand, and in your position I’d feel exactly the same.’
Throughout the conversation, Avithan had been fidgeting by her side, plainly bursting to have his say, but held to silence by Esmon’s hand. At last, however, he exploded. ‘Are you insane, Esmon? You can’t seriously be allowing her to do this.’
‘Allowing?’
Iriana turned on him furiously, but Esmon overrode her. ‘Don’t be an ass, Avithan,’ he said firmly. ‘It was never a question of allowing her or not. Iriana is an adult, capable of making her own decisions and dealing with the consequences. I only wanted to be sure that she had thought this all the way through - it’s a serious matter - and I am convinced that she has. I know you’re in the habit of protecting her, and I can understand why you want to, but there are times when it’s simply not appropriate. This is Iriana’s private family business, and it’s none of your affair, or mine. Stay out. I mean it.’
Avithan scowled thunderously. ‘My father trusted me to take care of her. If he knew—’
Esmon’s words had given Iriana a chance to get her own temper under control. ‘You think he doesn’t?’ she said coolly. ‘I told you I discussed this with Zybina, and she tells Sharalind everything. But as Esmon said, this is private family business, and we shouldn’t lose our sense of proportion. I am going to visit the foster-father who abandoned me. I want answers. I need them. Then I’ll put it behind me, and get on with my life.’
‘If you’re lucky,’ Avithan muttered, but he said no more.
‘I’ll talk to the innkeeper and do some asking around for you,’ Esmon said. ‘This is still a small town. Someone will know where Challan lives.’
‘Thank you, Esmon,’ Iriana said. ‘For everything.’
By the time the Warrior had found out what they wanted to know, darkness had fallen outsid
e, and Iriana knew that she could put off her meeting with Challan no longer, though now that the time had come to confront him, nervous tension was gripping her stomach like a clenched fist. Seyka glided above her like a silent white ghost, and Melik curled around her shoulders like a warm fur collar. Both of them were providing sight for her in the dimly lit streets, so that she had no problem making her way to Challan’s house. Nexis was not a large place, and the innkeeper’s directions had been very clear, so she found the right street with no trouble at all. It was on the island, where the buildings were more densely packed together, and the inhabitants thronged the boarded, lamplit walkways.
Iriana walked faster than she would normally have done on a dark night in a strange town. Firstly, because she was anxious to get the dreaded meeting over and done with, and secondly, she was walking off her annoyance at Avithan and Esmon, who had insisted on accompanying her. Fighting, as always, for her independence, she had wasted a good half-hour convincing Avithan that she would be perfectly all right on her own, only to be overruled by Esmon, who had insisted that all three of them should go.