He glanced down to see that Boxx was still regarding him. That was not right. They had not been introduced to the Chandara until much later, when Keris had met them in the desert outside Gort. Was all of this some kind of illusion? The smells were real; the raucous sounds of barrog swine and street vendors; the feel of the reins in his sweaty palm. His throat suddenly felt dry. “Why have you brought me here?”
“I Did Not. You Did,” Boxx replied.
“What am I supposed to do?” he pressed.
“What Are You Supposed To Do?”
Before Alondo could respond, the Chandara vanished in a flash of light. Great. Now what? How was he going to get back to the others at the Dais? Maybe that was the test. Figure out a way to get back.
The girl who looked like Shann threw back her hood. “What’s the matter? You look ill.”
Alondo found his voice. “No…no, I’m fine.” Perhaps that was what was expected of him. Retrace his steps. Alondo thought hard, remembering the sequence of events. I left Shann to tend the morgren and went to see Ennas. Lyall had asked me to check in on the blind man and to inquire about the news from Corte, to see if there was any sort of pursuit. His boy Malan was still out in the fields. I gave Ennas half an astria. “I’m sorry, I have to go somewhere. Can you watch the morgren and the rest of our things for a while? I won’t be long.”
“You’re going to find an Inn, aren’t you?” Shann’s eyes were narrowed. It was exactly what she had said, there in the past.
Alondo gave the response he remembered. “No, not this time.”
He headed off, threading his way through the narrow streets toward the eastern canton. The district that housed Lind’s disadvantaged and downtrodden was just the same as before. Run down hovels jammed together alongside filthy alleys where half-naked children played alongside starving gundir, ribs showing through their bellies. The few adults he saw shuffled past with downcast eyes and faces etched with despair, too tired or hungry to pay any attention to a travelling musician with a gaudy red hat. Why am I being made to relive this? Is this also part of the test?
He was standing in front of the tiny one-room shack where blind Ennas lived with Malan, his only surviving son. The boy had escaped after Persillan, and so had been spared the fate of his two older brothers. He ducked his head and entered the open portal. Ennas’ wasted form was seated on a stool near the same empty fireplace. Across the bare wooden floor, the familiar pair of pallets lay next to the same worn-out leather chest. I put my hand on his shoulder. Alondo strolled over to the old man. “Hello, Ennas. How are you?”
Ennas responded to his touch. “Alondo. It’s you, isn’t it.”
“Yes, it’s Alondo. Are you well?”
“I am just fine. Malan is not back from the fields yet. How is Hedda?” Exactly the same as before. But why–what’s the point? Alondo could think of nothing else to do but to play along and see where this trip into the past would lead.
“Mother is still the same.” He pulled up a stool and sat opposite the old man.
“It’s kind of you to visit an old blind man. Malan will be sad to have missed you. He often speaks of you and Lyall. Are you two still together?”
“Er…yes, yes we are. Ennas, I came to ask you about something. There was an incident in Corte the other day. I was wondering if you had heard anything about it.”
“We’ve all heard about it.” The voice was not Ennas’s. Alondo swivelled on the stool to see an outline limned against the sunlight streaming in from the doorway. A Kelanni in stained farm labourer’s coveralls stepped across the threshold. His jet-black hair was thick with dust and his face was lined, prematurely aged by overwork, but it was unmistakeably Malan. This was not right. In his version of the past, Malan had not returned by the time he left. Alondo felt his flesh crawl. Something is wrong here–terribly wrong.
Malan strode toward them, faded boots creaking on the floor of the shack.
Alondo stood up to meet him. “It’s been a long time, Malan. How have you been?”
Malan’s face was set. “What are you doing here, Alondo?”
“Er…Lyall asked me to stop by and pay respects to your father…and to ask about something that happened in Corte three days ago.”
“You mean the attack on the Keltar?” Malan said. “Why would Lyall send you here to discuss something he was responsible for?” How could Malan know that? Ennas had told him in the past–his past–that the assailant had not been identified. Alondo felt a rising sense of panic, as if the situation were spinning out of control. “The fool is at it again, isn’t he? Making trouble, putting us all in more danger. And you–you come here like some wretched gundir, ever eager to do his bidding.”
“I…I don’t understand,” Alondo stammered.
A floorboard creaked behind him as Ennas rose to his feet. The old man’s sightless eyes were staring directly at him, as if his blindness were suddenly revealed as a sham. His voice held a bitter edge the like of which Alondo had never heard before. “I lost two of my sons at Persillan because of Lyall’s self-deluded arrogance, his egotistical belief that he was the one to overthrow the Prophet; that he could not fail. I watched as my dear Tullia withered away from grief and died not a turn later. See the way we have been forced to live, all to satisfy Lyall’s selfish ambition. And now he wants to begin all over again–to reave me of my last remaining son?”
Alondo felt as if he were being pummelled in the stomach. He gathered up the shards of his shattered courage. “Lyall…Lyall is doing his best to…to free us. Persillan wasn’t his fault. No-one could have known that the Prophet would set off some kind of a trap.”
Malan spat on the floor of the hovel. “And yet he made sure that he got out safely. How could he do that if he didn’t know what was going to happen? Maybe he and the Prophet are working together to root out and destroy opposition.”
“That’s ridiculous. Lyall would never betray his own people,” Alondo protested.
“Are you quite sure of that?” A small figure walked through the doorway. Slight. Short fair hair. Wide blue eyes. Sensitive features. Oliah. She looked beaten and dishevelled, white blood staining the side of her face. Alondo could feel himself being swept over the lip of an emotional waterfall, desperately clinging to a branch that represented his last shred of sanity. How could this be? He had not met Oliah until many days later, when they reached the port city of Sakara. She could not possibly be here. “Lyall provoked the conflict that led to the fall of my home. People are suffering and dying. Members of the Thief Guild. My family. How can you let it happen, Alondo?”
Alondo stretched a hand out to her. His eyes filled with tears. “Wh…why are you saying these things?”
“Because Lyall is leading us on a path that will destroy us all,” she said. “He betrayed us at Persillan and left us to die. He will betray us again. You must forsake him. It is better for us to live peacefully under the Prophet’s rule than to die without hope.”
“You must forsake him.” Ennas’ voice was strangely firm and steady.
“You must forsake him.” Malan echoed.
“No,” Alondo cried out. “You are wrong–all of you. Lyall is risking his life to end the tyranny, but it is not just about him. All of us have to fight–to resist.”
Oliah’s eyes were accusing. “You do not love me, then? You would let me die?”
Alondo felt his heart wrench inside him. “I do love you. But we have to break the Prophet’s power before he destroys us all. Even…even if I have to lose you, I must stay loyal to the others and to myself. If you love me, you will know that.” Her eyes were frigid blue mountain lakes, tinged with fire. He gazed into them, searching desperately for a response.
She opened her mouth, but the voice was not hers; it was the high pitched timbre of the Chandara. “I Know.”
The air swirled about him, the hut vanished in a blinding flash of light and he was standing once more in the midst of a dull grey nothingness. Boxx stood before him, moving its head
from side to side. “Follow,” it instructed.
~
Shann sat on the metal platform, arms wrapped around her knees, staring at the dome of swirling grey fog. Somewhere inside, Alondo was with Boxx, facing…what? She blinked, then rubbed her eyes, wiping at her dried tears. It was so unfair. Alondo was not a fighter. He was a person who brought peace and reconciliation through joy. He should not have to face this trial–whatever it was–alone.
It was now fully day, yet paradoxically, it had grown darker as fuliginous clouds loomed overhead. A light mizzle began to fall, spattering against the silvery metal surface of the Dais. Before long, the damp started to seep through to her skin, but she made no move toward the relative warmth and dryness of the tents behind her. She continued sitting at her post, her heart as heavy as the lowering sky.
“Enjoying the weather?” She turned her head to see Lyall standing behind her. He smiled. “Sorry. It just seemed like something Alondo would say.” She saw that he was carrying a steaming stoup in each fist. “Here.” He sat down beside her and offered her one. “And before you ask, no, it’s not horge. Keris would have thrown a fit if I’d tried serving intoxicating liquor. It’s just a vegetable broth. Your friend Rael made it. Turns out he’s quite the cook. Did you know that about him?”
“No…no I didn’t.” She accepted the mug gratefully and took a sip, feeling her insides respond to the warmth.
“He’s a nice lad,” Lyall continued. “Clever, too. I can see why you like him.”
“He’s just a friend,” she said defensively.
“Of course.” They sat together in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. Eventually, Shann spoke out loud. “Alondo’s been in there too long. We should go in and get him.”
“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Lyall advised. “Keris would skin you alive.”
“What does that matter?” Shann declared. “Anyway, she doesn’t scare me.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Lyall said. “Still, the rules that govern these tests seem quite specific. I think we have no choice other than to wait and see how this thing plays out. In any case, I’m sure Alondo is fine.”
She turned to face him. “How can you be sure of that?”
Lyall’s smile was enigmatic. “Alondo is stronger than he looks.” She was waiting for an explanation. Lyall took a deep breath. “He and I have been together for as long as I can remember. I remember one time, we were–I don’t know–twelve, thirteen turns maybe? Anyhow, I was always the loud-mouthed one, always getting myself into trouble. Alondo–well, he was the quiet one.”
“Alondo was the quiet one?” she said in disbelief.
Lyall laughed. “You wouldn’t think so to look at him now, would you? But back then he was. Anyhow, we were walking home together, and a group of youths made some insulting remark or other. Well, there were six or seven of them, but only two of us, so the sensible thing to do would have been to just ignore them, but I was young, arrogant and stupid, so I let off a torrent of abuse back at them.”
Shann’s eyes went wide. “What happened?”
“Well, the next thing I knew, they were all over me and I was fighting for my life. They knocked me to the ground pretty quickly and then piled on top of me, punching and kicking. I managed to get a few blows in, but I was hopelessly outnumbered. I was getting beaten up pretty badly. Then, above all their heads, I suddenly saw this red hat, bobbing up and down.”
Shann giggled. “You mean he wore the same red hat back then?”
“Weeeell, I don’t think it was exactly the same one. It looked the same. Maybe his head and his hat have grown together over the years? I guess that’s just one of life’s little mysteries that we may never solve.” Shann giggled once more. “Anyhow, there he was, pulling the other boys off me, one by one. We both got away, although we were a real mess. Hedda was really annoyed–so was my mother. I think we both got sent to bed with no supper. But my point is; although Alondo will do anything he can to avoid getting into a fight himself, when those he cares about are threatened, he will always stick up for them, no matter what the odds.”
Shann caught movement out of the corner of her eye. The fog parted and Alondo emerged with Boxx. Shann stood up, dropping her mug in the process. The remaining broth spilled onto the surface of the platform. She ran toward the musician, then stopped short. His head was bowed. He looked…different. As if he had prematurely aged somehow. “What happened to you? Are you all right?” she asked.
“Be careful.” The voice behind her was that of Keris. “He must not speak of his experiences.” Patris and Rael were hurrying to join them.
Alondo held up a hand. “It’s all right…I don’t think I could explain it anyway, even if I had to. I’ll be fine.”
Boxx waddled forward. “Alondo Has Passed The Trial.” The air was suddenly filled with sighs of relief and words of congratulation. Yet Shann noticed that Alondo seemed just as pale and drawn.
Lyall stepped forward and clapped him on the back. “Well done, old friend. Come, you must be hungry. There’s a bowl of broth waiting for you.”
Alondo stiffened. “Maybe later. Actually, I think what I need to do right now is to lie down and rest for while, if nobody minds.” There was a chorus of assent. Shann felt a strong sense of disquiet. They had encountered many stressful situations, faced many dangers during their journeys together, and yet she had never seen the musician like this. What did Boxx do to you?
She watched him pass through their midst and head toward his tent. He was hunched over and seemed to be walking painfully. She wanted to run after him and offer support, but instead, she simply stood helplessly with the others and watched his receding back. Something told her that he needed to be on his own for a while.
The rain was coming down harder now. Shann began to shiver.
“So, who is next for trial?” Lyall asked.
The Chandara turned toward Patris, who was lurking behind the others. The sailor-thief’s face registered alarm. “Oh, no. There’s no way I’m going in there,” he jerked a thumb over his shoulder, “especially after what just happened to him.”
“You knew that the purpose of coming here was to undergo these trials,” Keris pointed out.
Patris adopted an air of exaggerated patience. “Our agreement–if you recall–was for you to provide protection for me until we return to our world. Not for me to undergo some kind of ritual test.”
“You would rather see the Prophet destroy our world?” Keris challenged.
Patris shook his head. “I can’t…I won’t be responsible for the problems of an entire world. My job is to protect my crew, my guild and my city–that’s it.” He looked around at the accusing faces. “Look, as I understand it, you need three more…custodians. There are four of you. You don’t even need me.”
Lyall stared at him, then turned to Boxx, “Can one of us take his place?”
“No,” Boxx replied.
“Why?” Patris demanded. “Why do I have to go?”
Boxx looked directly up at him. “Ordinal Sequence Is Determined By Recursive Algorithm.”
Patris squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again. “What…What did it say?”
Keris stood toe to toe with him. “That’s enough. You will leave Boxx alone.”
“Fine.” Patris threw his arm up. “Fine, I’ll leave it alone. Just so long as it leaves me alone.” He stormed off toward the collection of tents.
Lyall watched him leave. “Boxx, what happens if Patris refuses the trial?”
“Then The Trials Are Concluded.”
“And we will have failed?”
“Yes,” Boxx said.
“What are we going to do?” Shann asked.
Lyall’s expression was grim. “Stay here. I’ll take care of it.” The rain was steady now. An onshore breeze buffeted their backs. Lyall followed Patris into one of the makeshift shelters. Shann heard raised voices. Moments later, Lyall reappeared. Shann’s jaw dropped. He was half carrying, half dra
gging the dark-haired sailor. Patris grunted and protested, his arms flailing, but he could do nothing to prevent his being propelled across the platform.
She could hear his strangled cries. “Get off me…I won’t…you can’t make me.” He hauled the thief past them and on toward the nubilous grey dome. “Arrrgghh.” Lyall grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and hurled him into the fog.
He turned back and addressed Boxx, breathing hard. “He’s in there.” Boxx cocked its head to one side, then headed in after Patris.
Keris approached Lyall. There was a wry smile on her face. “Well done. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
Lyall ignored her. He began walking back toward the tents. “I’m going to check on Alondo,” he called over his shoulder. “Let me know when he reappears.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 31
Patris lay face down on the ground while his feeling of shock ignited into burning fury. He hauled himself up and saw Boxx looking down on him. Behind the Chandara there was nothing but a uniform grey flatness. The thief got to his feet and cast his eyes about him. There was nothing but the grey mist. “Show me the way out of here now,” he commanded.
The Chandara’s eyes were smouldering coals. “Begin.”
The fog vanished along with Boxx, to be replaced by smoke. Patris coughed as the acrid fumes caught in his throat. His eyes were stinging from the smog. Fire. He cast about wildly. Wisps of smoke curled about his head, and he could hear the crackle and roar of flames coming from somewhere nearby. He was in a large room with stone walls and a wooden staircase leading to the next level. Wherever this place was, he had to get out, now.
The Lodestone Trilogy (Limited Edition) (The Lodestone Series) Page 62