***
"Can we talk?" Dane asked when the door was opened to him.
Elias Wick, the man on whose door he had knocked, took a split-second to recover from his surprise on finding Dane on his doorstep. The two men had never spoken to each other, but Dane had decided last night this was a conversation he needed to have before leaving for Haven. "Of course,” Elias said. “Come in. I can put some tea on."
Dane shook his head. "No thanks. Could we take a walk instead?"
"Great idea," the priest said, "The late flowers are blooming on the downs."
Dane smiled, relieved. He felt what he had come to talk about would be best gotten out in the open, beneath the sun, instead of shut up in the dark.
Dane stood aside to let Elias pass through the door and then followed him up the path the priest had worn to the low grassy hills that overlooked the sea. Elias walked with a slight limp, the result of a horseback riding injury several years ago that had never fully healed. Still, Dane had often seen him walking on the downs, with his hands clasped behind his back or swinging lightly at his sides. But Dane had never walked with the priest and he was a little concerned about the best way to do it. He feared walking too fast would be inconsiderate while walking too slow might be insulting. He settled for a normal, leisurely pace, which seemed most natural in the sunny, breezy afternoon, and Elias had no trouble keeping up.
Elias was pale but his eyes, like his hair, were bright and dark. He was tall and lean with a slender, hollow-cheeked face Dane thought women must have considered handsome. It was common knowledge he had been in love once. He had courted a certain wee girl for many long days until she had repaid his attentions by marrying someone twice his age and many times as wealthy. There were people who said, especially before the event on the mountain, that, being ruined for war by the horse and ruined for love by the girl, Elias had had no choice but to enter the priesthood, as though it was some kind of inferior station filled by broken men who were too proud to beg. But it seemed to Dane as though Elias had been born for it and he appeared to have moved towards it not as a comfortable career but as a calling. Dane thought Elias had not chosen the priesthood, but the other way around. Unlike most people, and even many of the priests, who left well enough alone when it came to the spirit world, Elias wanted to do more than just appease the gods; he actually wanted to know them. He sought the gods with the same fervor, or perhaps more, with which he had pursued the girl. And Dane guessed that, in some small way, the gods had broken his heart, too.
Elias was no more than two years older than Dane, but Dane considered him his elder and better in every way. Suddenly conscious of this, he wondered if it would not be best to walk behind the priest. And even if he figured out the walking, what about the talking? How was one to address a priest? Your reverence? Your holiness?
"What was it you wanted to talk with me about?" Elias asked.
His words shook Dane from a daze. He had been trying not to think about it. It's not what I want to talk to you about, he thought. He realized suddenly he'd let the silence drag on another minute. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude," he said.
"I'm not offended by silence," Elias smiled. He turned towards the Seat of Kran and added, more to himself than to Dane, "Not usually, anyway."
"It's a nice day, isn't it?" Dane said. Why are you having such trouble saying it? he asked himself. He realized then he had not once let his gaze stray out to sea. His eyes and his thoughts he fought hard to keep from wandering in the direction of the isle.
"It is indeed," Elias said, "But you didn't visit me to talk about the weather."
"I'm sorry," Dane said. "I'm not meaning to waste your time."
"I never consider such walks wasted," Elias said.
"Right," said Dane, "Well I guess you've heard by now about the ship that came in yesterday?"
"From Haven?" Elias asked and nodded. "And I've heard of the one you'll be leaving in later today."
"You have?" Elias did not seem the type to hang out with the gossips at the docks.
Elias smiled. "Half of your crew came to receive their last rites."
Dane nodded. "Some of them think it's a fool's errand, a suicide run."
"What do you think about it?"
"I try not to."
"There's many a good man going with you."
“That won’t be enough.”
"You feel the need for more soldiers?"
"My father won't give me any more soldiers."
"Well, I don't know that I'll be able to change his mind for you; your father's tighter with his fighting men than he is with his money."
"Actually I was hoping you could help me in a different way," Dane said. "We have many good soldiers, men who have dedicated themselves to warfare since they were boys, but I think it would be good if we had one who'd dedicated himself to prayer."
Elias turned to him. "You want me to go with you?"
Dane held up his hand. "Only if you're willing."
Elias's face darkened. "I am willing. But I cannot."
Dane could only nod; having already asked too much to also demand he give his excuse.
Elias offered it anyway. "The festival of Kran begins next week.”
"Of course," Dane said. "And they've asked you to slaughter the pig. I'm sorry, I'd almost forgotten."
"That's alright," Elias siad. "It's not anything you need to keep track of."
Kran was the household deity of Dane's ancestors. The god the Hallanders had served long before there was an Emperor to unite everyone under the worship of Shammath. And they served Kran still now that the Empire had crumbled. His Seat, the solitary peak that dominated the harbor, was where Elias had won his fame. Kran’s festival was the biggest event of year, nearly two weeks of partying, and the main sacrifice, the sacrifice of the boar, was the biggest part of a the festival. It was a great honor to be chosen to do the sacrifice, an honor usually reserved for the senior priest. Not the kind of honor you could refuse, especially if you were one of the youngest priests.
“No, it's only right you should do it," Dane said. "Especially after all you did for us on the mountain."
"I had my own reasons for climbing the mountain," Elias said. He turned to Dane, "I'm sorry. But I'm sure you can get one of the other priests to go with you. Someone more experienced than me."
Dane smiled wryly. "I doubt any of the others will want to join us. We're taking very little wine and the only woman going with us is married."
Elias smiled. "There are many good men in the priesthood. You just haven't hung around the temple long enough to get to know any of them."
The thought of asking a priest other than Elias to go along depressed Dane. He trusted most of the priests no more than he trusted the gods they claimed to serve. Maybe Elias was right. Maybe they were good men. But they were still only men. Elias was something more. What he’d done on the mountain had proved that.
Dane admitted it might be good to have a god or two in their corner. But if he couldn’t have Elias Wick to stand between said gods and him, he preferred to take his chances alone.
III
Last Night on Earth
Laughter rolled down from the Hallander feasting hall as Dane passed by on his way to the docks. It was full dark now and torches blazed in sconces beside the huge double doors. Dane had been in the hall earlier in the evening for his father’s commissioning of him and the other men bound for Haven. But he had left before the feasting began, seeing no point in joining in his father’s sham of a celebration. He imagined most of the men saw through it, too. But why should they hold back? Might as well feast at his father’s expense tonight if he was going to sacrifice them tomorrow.
Dane had already said his goodbyes. They hadn’t taken long. There weren’t too many people he cared to see again. He imagined the feeling was mutual. Leech was the main person he felt he owed a farewell to, but their final conversation had been a disappointment. Leech had just kept asking him questions about when he would
be back and what he’d do when he got back and what it would take to get out of his position as Dane’s father’s nutritionist and open a real practice and whether needle and catgut or saw and tourniquet would be most useful if he wanted to get into battlefield medicine.
In the end, Dane’s attempts to say goodbye to his friend had made him feel so sappy and awkward he’d abandoned them all together.
Dane’s footfalls echoed dully as he crossed the dock. Rawl Johnson, one of the sentries left to guard the boat and belongings, leaned against the inside of the bow. Rawl’s attention was on the knife in his hand. Dane stopped a few paces away and watched him for a moment. Rawl passed his blade back and forth between his whetstone and a piece of leather; stoning, stropping, stoning, stropping.
Dane smiled wryly. He wondered if the boy had any idea what he was doing. “You'll wear it down to a nub if you don't stop that,” he said.
Rawl looked up with a start. "Sorry, sir.” He sheathed the knife and turned away. "Just won’t stay in its sheath." His cheeks burned red, but maybe it was just the ruddiness of the torchlight.
Dane nodded towards the hall. "Why don't you go get a drink?"
"I'm here to watch the ship, sir."
Dane stepped down into the Bloodwake. “I can watch the ship. Your brother’s up there, right?"
Rawl nodded.
“Then why don’t you join him.”
“He’s probably had a bit too much by now, sir. Probably making a fool of himself.”
“How old are you?”
“Be 20 next month, sir.”
“Then you’re still allowed to make a fool of yourself. Get out of here.”
Rawl tucked his whetstone and leather strap carefully in the pack at his feet and hopped up onto the dock and headed off.
The other sentry, Fletcher Dibsy, was reclining against a coil of ropes by the mast. Dane kicked his foot and the man leapt to his feet.
“You going to get up there yourself or would you rather stay here and sleep?"
"I'm sorry, sir."
"Sleep while you can, soldier. We're not on Haven yet."
"Yes, sir, I mean, sorry, sir, I mean…" Fletcher swore under his breath.
Dane smiled. "Why are you still here?"
"Sorry, sir." Fletcher stepped quickly around Dane with his head down, crossed the gangplank in a single stride, and started jogging up the hill after Rawl.
Dane watched the two men enter the hall. He had met them only this morning at the muster, along with Rawl’s twin, Paul.
The smile faded from Dane's face as he sat down on one of the barrels roped to the deck. Normally, he liked to be alone to think, and during the last two days he had been too busy to let his thoughts wander and he'd hardly had a moment alone. But now he was alone and his thoughts brought him no comfort. While the sun shone it had been easy to banish dark imaginings of the mysterious isle, but now the sun had fallen and the hour to disembark was at hand. The darkness crept over his thoughts as well. As he brooded, he faced the sea and so he did not see the figure that stole down the dock and slipped onto the ship and into the hold below deck.
A short time later a second figure came down the dock, but this one called to Dane and he turned around to see Elias Wick, the priest.
"You still have that extra space?"
Dane could not hide his smile as he stepped to the gunwale near the gangplank. "It's called a berth when speaking of a ship, your holiness, but I would clear thirty such spaces to make room for men such as you."
"One will do." Elias tossed him his bag. "I'm a light packer."
Dane hefted the traveler's pack in his hands. "This is all you’re bringing?" He was a little disappointed. He had hoped Elias would bring an arsenal of spiritual tools; amulets to ward off evil and stones to set up invisible walls and whatever else it was priests carried around with them. The really good stuff. It didn't seem the bag held much more than a change of clothes.
Elias shrugged. "For a man like me, Captain, the material is largely immaterial."
"You'll miss your festival," Dane said, trying to sound like he was warning Elias, encouraging him to reconsider, but finding it hard to keep the relief and excitement out of his voice.
“They can find someone else to prick their pig."
"Won't that upset your boss?" Dane said.
Elias smiled. "Kran is a local diety, Captain. And we're going to be a very long way from home."
Dane was silent for a moment, then said, "You know, this is just a military expedition. No one expects you to come along."
Elias sighed, and looked northwest into the blackness that hung over the surface of the deep there. "I was chosen to stand between these people and the Darkness," he said.
"But your festival; they wanted to honor you." Dane did not really want to talk Elias out of going, he only wanted to make sure Elias knew what he was getting into. Or had an idea about it. None of them really knew what they were getting into.
"I've always believed, or hoped at least, that the gods count our service to our fellow man more valuable than the sacrifices we offer them."
"But, you'd be the youngest priest ever to lead the festival."
"That's part of why I decided to go. There are better men to do it and there'll be other years for me to. I think I should use my youth for exploring. Who knows, maybe we will discover a new god there. A god we have not known. The god we've all been looking for."
"Do you know Joseph Leit?" Dane had decided to broach one of the questions that had been coming to him out of the darkness. If he could not keep the thought from weighing on him, perhaps sharing it would lighten the burden of it.
“Not as well as I'd like. He seems like an honest young man. Why do you ask?"
"Has he ever spoken to you about dreams?"
"Not that I recall."
"Do you have any sense about him, about whether he might have some prophetic ability or something?"
"I think we all have more spiritual ability than we realize," Elias said. "That's part of the reason I'm excited about this trip, it'll give me a chance to get to know many of the men better. We might all discover new things about who we are."
Dane relaxed a little. He felt a certain peace in the fact the priest was hopeful about the trip; looking forward to it, even. Maybe that was why he had asked Elias to come, not to have a different type of warrior but to have a man of peace. "Do you want a drink before we shove off?"
Elias looked toward the hall and smiled and shook his head. "No thanks, I've just passed through there. I thought I'd come down here and enjoy a last few minutes of quiet."
Dane did not know if that meant he was supposed to be quiet or not, but he didn't really have anything else to say anyway. He fell back upon his thoughts. It was not long before the sound of singing reached his ears, cascading down from the hilltop hall. His father must have given the farewell toast and the crew and the fellow revelers were lifting up their voices in a final song. Soon he saw flickering pinpoints of light filing down from the hall and he knew it was the crew coming down to the docks with torches and whatever well-wishers accompanied them.
He watched the trail of lights climb down the hill like a trickle of lava. Soon he could hear the voices of men and a few women. He moved to stand by the gangplank. He nodded to each man as he came on board, sometimes slapping a back or greeting a man by his name and sometimes shooting out a hand to stabilize one who was unsteady with drink on the narrow gangplank. Tipper Long, shock of dark hair falling forward to shield his serious, silent face, nodded to Dane as he stepped aboard with his dog, Dioji. Kit Forsythe, master navigator and the ship’s steersman, followed. Bailus Conley, House Hallander’s weapons master, the man who had trained most of the soldiers in the expedition and Dane’s second-in-command, boarded next. Then came a group of men and two more dogs. Aaron and Edric Embries, Markis Evans, Franklin Moore with his dog, Blackthorn, and Owen Manies with his one-eyed mongrel, Wink. Dane was glad to have the dogs. He wasn’t so sure about the me
n. He had fought alongside each of them but that didn’t mean he had any particular affection or trust for any of them. There was a weight and sincerity to Aaron’s and Owen’s handshakes that made him think better of them.
Paul Johnson came next, looking back over his shoulder as he conversed with Fletcher Dibsy. "Good evening, men," Dane said as Paul stepped off the plank and onto the deck.
"Oh, hello, Captain," Paul said, turning to face him and then turning his head again to continue what he had been telling Fletch. "No, Dibs, I ain't scared. And for two good reasons. One,” he held up the first finger of his right hand, "I ain't never been scared of nothing in my life."
Behind Fletch, Rawl grunted as he dropped down the gangplank. Paul ignored his brother and continued, raising the first finger of his left hand as he said, "And secondly, because if fat old Lord Felcrist tries to burn his ugly mark in my hide, I'll shoot him through both eyes before he can so much as blink."
"Right," said Rawl, "’Cause I'm sure it never occurred to Old Ben Cross to try to defend himself."
Benjamin Cross was the branded man who had washed up in the boat from Haven yesterday. He had been identified later that morning and buried the same day. Dane had not known Ben but he had felt he should go to the funeral since he had been the first to find him. It had not been easy in any way, but the hardest part had been the questions. Everyone, especially those closest to Old Ben, but also a lot of busy bodies who'd never heard of him 'til now, wanted to know what had happened. They all directed their questions at Dane and, of course, he didn't have answers for any of them.
"Speaking of marks on the skin," Fletch said, "I'm thinking of getting myself a tattoo."
“Oh, yeah?" Paul said. "Of what?"
"Your sister's name."
"Gross," Paul said blandly.
“Why don't you just stick with a branding, Fletch?" Rawl said. "It'll be quicker, cheaper, and everyone knows she drags you around like a dumb old ox with a ring through its nose.”
“Speaking of your sister,” Fletch said. “Do you think we’ll be back in time for my birthday? She’s promised to bake me a cake.”
The Silent Isle Page 3