Tonno shook his head. ‘Your warriors must have lost their wits, old one.We’ll wipe you out before the moons take half a turn.’
Briaali’s eyes flashed dangerously. You speak of ‘you’ and ‘we’, as if you were warriors yourselves! I will not say that the warriors are right. She drew her tiny body up as straight as a sapling. But the Spiridrelleen have been driven from their lands, butchered and forced to live in hiding. Our forests have been slaughtered. The Tree People have much to win, and little to lose, by waging war on the Voiced Ones.
‘Then our quest is more urgent than ever,’ said Darrow in a low voice. ‘There is more at stake than we knew.’
Yes. Unless we can stop them, the warriors will attack the lands behind the thicket of ice before next moondark.
Calwyn stared at Briaali in horror. ‘You mean Antaris, the Wall of Antaris?’ A lump of dread sprang into her throat. She felt as if she were being torn into pieces. Of course the Tree People should not have to live in hiding, in suffering and sorrow. But fighting with the people of Antaris would not set that right. For all their faults, at least they lived in peace within theirWall. In an instant, all her exhilaration turned to despair. What was the good of regaining her chantment, with so much misery everywhere?
Halasaa clasped her hand. We will find a way to prevent this. Her brother was reassuring as always, but Calwyn had to swallow hysterical sobs.
Prevent a war. Find Samis and mend theWheel. And all before the next moondark! Oh, my brother, how can we do so much?
We must try, said Halasaa simply.
‘I don’t understand why the Spiri – Spirideen hate us,’ said Trout doggedly. ‘It wasn’t us who killed the Tree People. That was all hundreds of years ago. It’s not our fault.’
‘Let what’s past, stay past,’ grunted Tonno.
Briaali fixed them with a shrewd look. The tree bears the mark of drought long past; the forest changes its form with the pattern of flood and storm and fire. The shape of the present is created by the past. You do not know the story of your people, yet you would give lessons to mine, to the Spiridrelleen who fell at the hands of your ancestors? You must learn to listen, boy.
Trout looked shame-faced. ‘Tell me the story of my people.’
Briaali laid her hands on her knees and closed her eyes. Very gently, she swayed back and forth, and as she told her tale, she placed pictures into the minds of her listeners. This tale was told to me by Halwi, of the Blazetree People, and it was told to him by his mother, Iaana. I tell it now to Halwi’s son and to his daughter.
Calwyn and Halasaa looked swiftly at each other.
Long ago, when the tallest trees were saplings, the Tree People lived in the endless forest. Hand to hand, the world’s circle danced. The people danced with the trees, the trees danced with the land. The land danced with the sea, the sea with the moons, and the moons with the stars. So went the music and the dance, without beginning, without end.
Long ago, on a night of blood moon –
‘Tree People call it blood moon, too!’ Trout whispered loudly.
‘Ssh!’Tonno frowned at him.
– on a night of blood moon, a silver boat sailed out of the dark between the stars. The Tree People gathered to wonder at the sight.
Then a door opened in the silver boat, and people came marching out: small, pale people, with hair of many colours.The people opened their mouths, and noise came out, like the noise of beasts, for these people were the Voiced Ones, and the Tree People were afraid.
TheTree People seated around the fire closed their eyes, as if they remembered the ancient scene. Calwyn could feel in her own body the shock and fright her ancestors must have experienced at that moment. And what of her Voiced ancestors? They must have been frightened, too, when they saw the silent strangers in the forest. But Briaali could not tell that part of the story.
The Tree People and the strangers found they could understand each other. Then was a time of peace. The Voiced Ones had singing magic. The Voiced Ones commanded fire and ice, the stones of the land and the breath of the air. They made the beasts obey them, and they created images, not as we do, with mind-pictures, but in the air –
‘The Power of Seeming,’ breathed Darrow, so low that only Calwyn heard.
But the strangers could not help the plants of the forest to grow, nor understand the speech of beasts. They could not heal a hurt to a living being: they knew nothing of the great river, nor could they alter its flow.The singing magic of the Voiced Ones was an arrogant power. It bent the stuff of the world to the will of the singer. The Voiced Ones knew much of singing, but they did not know how to listen – ‘That’s not true!’ Calwyn burst out, weeping with hurt and outrage, as if Briaali’s story were an accusation directed at her alone. ‘If my father told you that, it must have been before he knew my mother, before he knew about true chantment! In Antaris, the priestesses teach us to be respectful of the power we summon.We’re taught to listen for the voice of the Goddess before every chantment, and to do nothing lightly – ’ She stopped. For the first time, the lessons she had learned from the sisters struck her heart. At last she could see the wisdom in the discipline that she had always struggled against. She bowed her head, unable to go on.
Briaali watched her thoughtfully for a moment, then continued.
The Dances of Becoming do not benefit the dancer, nor do they alter for alteration’s sake, but only heal what is damaged, and nourish the whole. It was decided that the dances of healing should not be shared with the strangers.
But there was a girl of the Tree People who loved a man of the Voiced Ones, and she betrayed the secret. And when the Voiced Ones learned of the Tree People’s magic, they feared that theTree People would command the forest to destroy the Voiced Ones and their city.
At last the Voiced Ones burned the trees, and left the land bare and barren, so the forest could never hurt them. The grief of the Tree People was heavy, and some sought revenge.
Just as they do now. Briaali fell silent, and she placed no pictures into their minds. But everyone around the crackling fire was quiet.
The Tree People were many, then, and theVoiced Ones were few. Terrible fighting broke out for many seasons, until the land was soaked with blood. The Voiced Ones used their singing magic to deceive and to destroy, and it was the Tree People who suffered more. When the last battle was over, the survivors of the Tree People fled, vowing to hide from the Voiced Ones forever.
But the Voiced Ones were also damaged by the warring. They quarrelled among themselves. The ones who sang each kind of chantment clung together, and would not share their magic as they had done. One by one, the groups left the first city, to build their own dwelling-places elsewhere –
Calwyn leaned forward eagerly. ‘The ironcrafters went to Merithuros, and the windworkers to Doryus and the Isles. Those with the Power of Seeming went north, to build Gellan…’
‘And those with the Power of Beasts settled on the plains of Kalysons,’ said Darrow.
‘The chanters of fire went to Mithates,’ said Trout. ‘That’s right, isn’t it?’
Briaali nodded. Those who sang the songs of fire were the warriors of the Voiced Ones. They built the machines that slayed our people.
‘Soldiers, and builders of war-machines,’ said Darrow. ‘With no war to fight, their powers were neglected, until they were forgotten altogether.’
‘All they left behind was the Clarion,’ said Calwyn. ‘And now even that is gone.’
‘Perhaps the war with the Tree People is the reason chant-ment fell from favour everywhere.’ Darrow stared into the fire. ‘Chantment was tainted by the way it had been used, to kill and destroy.’
Calwyn looked up. ‘So, in the beginning, all the chantments were mingled together, overlapping and strengthening each other. But now they’re separated, so each power has grown weaker, all the connections have been forgotten. We have to bring them together again!’
‘Let us deal with one task at a time, Calwyn!’ D
arrow made as if to lay a restraining hand on her knee; at the last moment he remembered to snatch it back.
Halasaa turned to Briaali. Wise one, how can it be that the Dances of Becoming have been lost? If a war was fought to preserve them, why were the Dancers shunned, and forbidden to teach the dances of healing?
Briaali looked very sad, and she reached out to take Halasaa’s hand between hers. My son, it is a great sorrow of our people.Those who believed the Dances had brought death to our people forbade the teaching of the knowledge. But there were brave ones, like your father, who taught those who were willing to learn.
Like you. Calwyn used mind-speech. And you were brave, too.
Briaali smiled. We who have studied the old wisdom hope that we may pass it on in our turn, though none of us has the power of healing. That power is a precious gift, my son. Guard it carefully.
My sister and I will guard it together. Halasaa’s face blazed suddenly, and Calwyn flushed with joy and pride.
Briaali looked at her. It is said that the women who sang the magic of ice were so sickened by the bloodshed that they withdrew into the mountains. They built a peaceful place, a place of safety.
‘And they are the very ones the warriors are planning to attack!’ cried Calwyn. Then she added sadly, ‘A peaceful place. But Antaris is isolated from the rest of Tremaris, just as the Tree People have been isolated, hidden away in the forests.’
When the women of ice departed, the forest took back the city, and now it is no more.
Calwyn and the others exchanged glances. ‘That’s not true,’ said Darrow. ‘We visited the city only two years ago. It is ruined and desolate, but it still stands.’
Briaali wrinkled up her face. I did not know that. Perhaps the Lost City is the seed of these troubles, spreading poison through the lands. Perhaps it should be destroyed before the sickness of Tremaris can be cured.
‘We’re travelling to Spareth now,’ said Darrow. ‘And so is Samis – ’
‘Steady there!’ interrupted Tonno. ‘We’re not still going to Spareth, are we?’
Darrow frowned. ‘Why not?’
‘Why not?’ barkedTonno. ‘TheTree People are making war on Antaris!We have to stop them!’
‘Mica’s there,’ said Trout, in a small voice.
‘Aye, she is, but it’s not just that.We don’t know what Samis is up to.’ Tonno glared around the circle, daring someone to argue with him. ‘But this fighting, that’s a real danger. And there’s something we can do. And I say we should. Nay, we must!’
‘No, Tonno!’ cried Calwyn. ‘We must go to Spareth! The Wheel –
’ Darrow said wearily, ‘Whatever he is planning, Samis is a far greater danger to Tremaris than a group of Tree People armed with sharpened sticks.’
Trout shook his head. ‘Tonno’s right.We don’t even know if fixing this Wheel of Calwyn’s will help. But we could be back in Antaris in half a turn of the moons – less, with some luck from the weather. I know about weapons, and defence. I could help.’
Briaali gave him an approving look. We came here to find answers. You were sent to us. You will help us prevent this war.
Calwyn jumped up. ‘If I could, I would go back to Antaris – I want to stop them fighting as much as you do! But everything depends on the Wheel, I know it! I’m going to Spareth, even if I go alone!’
You will not be alone, my sister. Halasaa spoke quietly. I will go with you.
‘And so will I,’ said Darrow. ‘Though I suspect that from now on, my presence will be more a hindrance than a help to you.’
Never, never! Calwyn spoke into his mind, and Darrow gave her his old lopsided smile.
Trout looked around the circle, slightly puzzled. ‘So, we are splitting up after all? What about Keela? And how will you manage without the Clarion?’
Do not be hasty. Briaali stood, a tiny figure, but regal in her long cloak of grey and white burrower fur. Eat, talk together, sleep. Give me your decision in the morning.
Calwyn did not want to talk any more. Her mind was made up, and she was itching with restless energy.While the others argued around the fire, she walked through the blue-shadowed forest. It was a relief to find that she could put one foot steadily in front of another.The deadening numbness that had gripped her for so long was gone, but it had been replaced by a storm of emotions: soaring hope and bitter despair, fury and joy, had tossed her round and back until she was giddy. Her thoughts were so confused, and the singing lights of the Knot of the Waters seemed to pulse in her veins; she feared she would never sleep again.
As night fell, and the moons rose, making the snow sparkle with silver, Calwyn returned to the cave. The Tree People had prepared a meal: vegetable cakes, and a fragrant broth of dried herbs.
‘Sit down, Calwyn, eat something.’ Darrow gazed at her with concern.
‘No, no, I’m not hungry – I want to see how Keela is.’
The woman who had once been the Third Princess of the Merithuran Empire was sleeping peacefully beneath burrower pelts, her cheeks pink, and her golden hair curled round her throat.
Briaali’s voice sounded in Calwyn’s mind. You and she will be bound together for all time. You were both reborn from the Knot of the Waters; you are sisters now.
‘She’s not the sister I would have chosen,’ said Calwyn wryly, and she thought, with sudden violent longing – I would choose Mica! She would tell her that, as soon as she saw her again.
Calwyn sipped at the steaming broth, and the scent of the herbs sang in her nose and danced on her tongue. She wondered if this soup, too, had been made with the healing waters from the caverns. She leaned against the wall of the cave. There were tiny lively figures painted on these walls, too, very faint and faded.
Briaali followed her gaze. There were great dances held here, in the old days. No longer. The old woman laid her wrinkled hand briefly on Calwyn’s head before she moved away. Try to rest, child.
Calwyn did not expect to sleep, but she wrapped a fur around her shoulders and tried to calm her racing mind with a round of the breathing exercises she had learned in Antaris.
‘May I?’ Darrow addressed her with the politeness of a stranger. He sat down, careful not to touch her even with the hem of his blanket. His face was pale, and he closed his eyes as he leaned against the wall.
Calwyn burst out, ‘Please, Darrow, let me try to heal you! I feel so strong now, I’m sure no harm can come to me! The snow-sickness doesn’t hurt Halasaa, perhaps it won’t hurt me either.’
‘But Halasaa is not a chanter,’ said Darrow patiently. ‘No, Calwyn.We cannot risk it.’ Lightly, with the tip of one finger, he touched the wooden hawk at her throat. ‘I say this not just for your sake, but for the sake of all Tremaris.You should have drowned today, but you did not.TheWaters saved you. If you are to be the Singer of all Songs – and you may be, Calwyn, you must face that – then you are very precious to the fate of the world.’
Half a year ago, Calwyn would have leapt to argue: of course, she wasn’t the Singer of all Songs, she didn’t want it. But now she said softly, ‘I can never be the Singer of all Songs. Without the Clarion, the chantments of fire are lost forever.’
‘Yes,’ said Darrow slowly. ‘There is that.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘In Merithuros, when you lost your chantment, you fought against the land, against the deep forces of magic.Was it different this time?’
Calwyn thought. ‘There was a light in the depths of the water, and I swam to it. And I breathed. I breathed in the water.’
‘The Waters embraced you, as you embraced the Waters.’ Darrow closed his eyes again. ‘I am glad you have your powers back. I am not – as strong as I was. And without the Clarion, we…’ His voice trailed away.
Calwyn swallowed. She whispered, ‘I wish – ’ But Darrow’s head had tilted back; he’d fallen asleep between one word and the next. Carefully she folded the blanket over his legs, and with a heavy heart, she moved away until she was an arm’s-length from his side.
ten
The Boat in the Clouds
TROUT WOKE WITH a start. It felt like Mica was breathing cold air onto his face again…but of course Mica was far away, in Antaris. Trout’s sleeping-fur had come untucked, and the icy night air was nipping at his nose. He sat up sleepily. As he rearranged the fur, he glimpsed a shadowy figure prowling back and forth near one of the fires, bending over each sleeping body.
Trout called out sharply, ‘Who’s that?’
The stocky, powerful figure straightened, and gestured toward Trout, fingers outstretched. Trout jumped up. ‘Don’t sing your songs of seeming at me, Samis, I can’t hear them!’ he yelled. ‘Darrow!Wake up! Calwyn, Tonno! He’s here!’
Samis stooped, and plucked back a sleeping-fur to peer at the nearest body. The sleepers stirred, rolling over and blinking in bewilderment.
Calwyn sat up groggily, her head thick with the artificial sleep the sorcerer had cast over them all. Keela was kicking and struggling back from Samis, screaming, ‘No! No! I won’t go with you!’
But now Samis had seen Calwyn. In three strides he was beside her, growling out a chantment of iron. Calwyn tried to move away, but her limbs were heavy, and the sleeping-fur was tangled around her legs. Samis’s strong, long-fingered hands flicked her effortlessly to her feet, as if they were dancing together. His hand clamped across her mouth. Beside her, Darrow made a strangled sound, and Samis swung Calwyn so she could see the silver rope twisted round Darrow’s throat.
Calwyn sank her teeth into Samis’s hand, and nearly choked as blood flooded into her mouth. Samis didn’t let go. He shook her hard, as if to say, don’t be a fool! and jerked her back across the stone floor of the cave. He was still growling out his chantment; Calwyn knew that with the alteration of one note, Darrow’s windpipe would be crushed. Tree People came running from all directions. Keela still shrieked, ‘No, no!’
Don’t fight him! cried Calwyn in mind-speech. I’m all right, I’ll be all right!
Samis dragged Calwyn across the snow into the forest, under the trees. She couldn’t breathe; Samis’s hand was a band of iron across her mouth and nose. As they reached the edge of the grove, she collapsed, gasping for air.
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