by Terry Persun
“It's personal now,” Brok said.
Zimp turned on him, then. “You stinking, Godless beast,” she said before catching her own words.
Lankor held tight to her shoulder until she twisted into him and pounded his chest.
Brok walked over to Raik and shoved him to the ground. Another step and he placed a hand on Zimp's head. “How can we help?” he said.
She could feel hate rising inside her. She turned on Raik again, but did not step away from Lankor. She heard the voice of Zora more clearly than ever before. Not a whisper. Not a mumble. “Do not kill him yet,” she said, and Zimp felt comfort in her sister's final word.
Lankor shook his head in disgust. “Do you suppose they know that we're doublesight?”
“No,” Raik said. “Only that we are coming.”
“What shall we do?” Lankor asked Zimp, still holding her.
Her lips and cheeks tightened, holding back her anger, her fear, her sorrow. “Well, my big brother,” she said entering into her new role, “we carry on.”
“You are a leader,” Brok said. He rubbed her head.
“True doublesight do not kill other doublesight unless they pose a threat,” she said to Raik. “You are not a true doublesight.” Zimp pointed at Therin, the first time she'd ever addressed him directly, and asked, “Do you understand my words?”
Therin cocked his head and looked up at her in response.
Brok said, “I think he understands well enough.”
Zimp said, “Watch Raik tonight. If he moves, eat him.”
Shock crossed Raik's face. She felt a touch of satisfaction from his reaction.
“Let's eat and get a good night's rest,” she said.
32
LANKOR FELT BETRAYED. He had stood up for Raik on several occasions because he had felt an unexplainable connection with him. He felt as though they had something in common. His judgment had been wrong. Raik's latest announcement proved just how wrong Lankor had been. That was his life story.
No wonder Rend's frustration always showed through whenever Lankor made a decision for himself. Both his parents and his brother treated him like a child, as though he was just about to do something stupid. They warned him to be wary of his actions, reminded him of his loyalties, and continually attempted to settle his rising passions.
No wonder The Few selected Zimp as leader, instead of him. She thought every decision through. She could listen to those she traveled with and then decide the next step in their journey while holding to an internal goal that she never released.
And, yes, he felt that he should have been selected leader over Brok or Raik: Raik, because he was a soldier and would always turn to fight his way through a problem, and Brok, because he boiled beneath his show of outer calm. Lankor wasn't fooled by the thylacine's feigned loyalty at all. Once that doublesight grew angry, it would be difficult to keep him from slaying anything in his path, especially if what was in his path was human.
He glanced around the camp. Each person held an image far wilder than their human image. He understood why singlesight humans were fearful of the doublesight. Lankor sensed the animal in each of them, now that he knew its shape. He could pick these doublesight from a crowd with a simple shift in his perception. He'd always known he could do that while living in The Lost, but this extended knowledge amazed him in a way he couldn't explain. This newfound talent made him feel powerful and strong on the one hand, and innocent on the other. What other power might he gain? Would he someday be able to hear the dead like Zimp does?
Lankor became depressed about his own inability to judge people. Growing up in The Lost, with only dragon clan doublesight, had left him at a disability to live in The Great Land with other doublesight, let alone other humans. Did his comrades find him odd or quirky? Did they find him unsociable? Regardless of their attempts to banter and know one another, Lankor felt left out, alone, even among these brothers and sisters of the doublesight.
He slid a hand into a pouch from his saddlebag and pulled out a coarse and pitted rock. He rolled it between his fingers, and closed his eyes and recalled his homeland while the others pulled bread and jerky from their bags. He heard the lightness of footsteps and the sound of someone sitting beside him.
“What do you have there?” Zimp asked.
Lankor opened his eyes. He leaned on one elbow and Zimp sat close to him. He could smell her, the odor of scented candles, pine and peppermint.
She reached for his rock and he let her slip it from his fingers, touching hers for a long moment while doing so. The touch surprised him. She felt soft, almost feathery. The idea seemed strange but somehow accurate that she would feel that way to him, which meant that he must feel either scaled or like a thin piece of skin, like a bat's wing. Which was it?
“Is this from your homeland?”
“From The Lost, yes,” he said.
Zimp shifted her weight and stretched one leg out in front of her as she slid her two fingers into the pouch she wore at her waist.
Lankor watched her leg and followed the length of it from her slender foot to her muscled thigh, to her thin waist. Her fingers removed a crystal of deep indigo with specks of gold. Even the dim light of evening caused it to sparkle.
“We sometimes find these on the beaches near the Belt of the Lakes,” she said.
“Where you come from?”
“Yes, it's a small land mass that stands between the southern end of Western Stilth Alshore Lake and Diamond Lake.”
Lankor cocked his head.
“Lissland,” she said in answer.
He let her place it into his hand and it felt heavier than it appeared. Rolling it between his fingers, the stone sparkled and blinked at him. “Everything you own seems magical to me.” He glanced into her face.
Zimp reached for the stone and returned his in the same motion. Her lips tightened and she made a quick nod of her head. She pushed to her knees, about to scoot over to her bedroll.
Lankor reached out and touched her hand. “Tell me, what do I feel like to you?”
Understanding spread over her face. Her eyes narrowed and her hand slid from his. She appeared scared to answer the question then opened her mouth to speak. “Your hands are soft and light, almost unbelievably so for a man who spends his life in the rough terrain of The Lost. But your chest is the opposite. You want to know if you feel like your beast image,” she said. “And the answer is yes. Thick and hard. Again, the feel of your chest defies how it looks.” She turned away and reached for her dinner.
“That was touching,” Raik said.
Therin swung his head toward Raik as he spoke.
“I don't like this arrangement,” Raik said.
Brok smiled at the snake, now mouse, doublesight. “I think my brother does.”
Zimp patted her bedroll and stretched it smooth. She leaned back and rested her head. “When you're through eating…” she began.
Brok interrupted. “Take first watch.”
Zimp didn't answer.
Lankor replaced his rock and lay on his back. He felt enclosed with the trees rising all around him. Even in their beauty, they were like bars of a cage. The wind blew motion into everything around him. He smelled the burned bush, which reminded him of his shift. He felt relaxed afterward even though he didn't get to fly anywhere as Zimp had. His shoulders rolled back and flattened along the ground. His eyes closed until it was time for his watch, and Zimp woke him with a soft whisper.
He opened his eyes and her face leaned close to his.
“You awake?” she said.
Lankor nodded and she backed away. “I don't think we'll have any trouble. We haven't lately,” she said.
“I thought I had second watch,” he said.
“After you fell asleep, I changed it.” She smiled. “I know you like to see the sun rise.”
“Better if there were a cliff nearby.” He rose to a sitting position and quickly rolled his bed into a bundle and stuffed it next to his saddlebag. He reached
in and grabbed some jerky, held it up so that Zimp could see it, and said, “Energy for my watch.”
She made the sound of a whispered laugh then patted his shoulder. “Whatever it takes, big brother,” she said.
As Lankor got to his feet, Zimp lay on her side and slipped her blanket over her shoulders. She fell asleep almost instantly, her breathing shallow and long.
Lankor's watch must have been the shortest of the three, because he barely made five rounds of the camp when the rising sound of the birds’ morning song began in the distance. He had heard few nocturnal animals rustling around and concluded that this area, closest to Castle Weilk, must have been well hunted.
He woke everyone and they cleared the area in relative silence.
Once the horses were also ready for the morning's travel, Zimp pulled the group into a circle and lit two candles and set them on the ground. She pointed at each in turn, “A candle for peace and one for courage.” She lit each of them. “Please, today's prayers must be your own and in silence.” She lowered her head and opened her hands palms up.
Lankor thought about the day ahead of them, their trip thus far, the council and The Few, his travels with his family, his home, and the courage Nayman had when he needed it. Lankor asked for that courage, to risk his own life for the life of another. But instead of asking for peace, he asked to stay reminded to hold his power in check. The rest of the time he listened to the sound of the forest and felt the warmth of the sun.
After their short silence, Zimp pinched each flame out. The horses ready, the four of them mounted and rode toward the compound of Castle Weilk.
There appeared to be many roads and paths that led to the castle stronghold. Lankor and Zimp rode ahead and by mid-morning stepped into a broad and ravaged flatland. He could see fields off to his right in the distance. Small wooden shacks lifted like strange growths from the golden grain that grew there. Next to each shack grew sections of dark green, yellow-green, and an area that bore a blue haze, all coming together to create a patchwork of color.
“Those are the gardens of the slaves,” Zimp said.
“Slaves?” Lankor questioned. “Slaves to what?”
She smiled at him. “There are economies built around the larger cities and castles. Those who are poor or incapable of greater things, those who have little talent, are loaned land masses to create a barely survivable existence.”
“But they can leave if they wish, can't they?” Lankor had never experienced the truth of what he had just learned.
“Where would they go? How would they survive? They can leave, but would face bandits, wild animals…” she hesitated, “doublesight. They would never think of leaving. If they left, they could not return.” She halted her horse next to Lankor's. “Here is how life looks in many cities,” she said. Pointing to the farmers, she said, “The lowest class.” Rotating toward the main roadway on her left, she slid her arm through the air indicating the wagons and carts entering the city in a long line. “A slightly higher class of poor are the skilled ones who hand-make goods such as utensils for cooking, for storing items, baskets, clothing of a higher quality, trinkets. Among these are traders who bring jewels and jewelry from far places. These are the ones who help to spread and mix cultures. You'll find the jewels of the sea and land and forest, collected from around The Great Land, all traded here. Performers come, too. Acrobats, singers, dramatic players. And high contests where warriors fight until death or humiliation, at which time they would rather be dead.”
“And inside the city?” Lankor said.
“The owners of taverns, stables, Inns.”
Zimp was interrupted by Raik who had ridden up on her and Lankor. “And whorehouses,” he said. “What class do these women of sex occupy?”
“They are traders,” she said. “They trade a moment's pleasure for a man's uncontrollable longings.” She swung around in her saddle to look at Raik. “They makes a good wage for dealing with filth, don't you think?” She rode on and Lankor's horse stepped in beside her.
“And King Belford the Warrior?” Lankor asked.
“Top of the chain, as you might guess. He lives in Castle Wielk at the crest of the knoll.” She grimaced. “It is his influence you'll see everywhere in the city.”
“The scat at the top produces the stink at the bottom,” Raik said from behind her.
She turned slightly to glance at Raik then over to Lankor. “For once he's right.”
Lankor, the novice in the group, wondered how he'd be able to play the older brother when he had to ask his sister about everything that went on. He wouldn't be much help in knowing how to maneuver the city. But he'd come in good stead as man-power, or beast-power, whichever they might need at the time.
They crossed the trampled fields diagonally toward the city. Lankor felt conspicuous riding with these doublesight. They were to pretend to be traveling to see The Great Land. Why would such an odd group do such a thing?
An argument was occurring on the main road. Yelling ensued, and in a moment swords were drawn. Lankor watched as other vendors widened the space for the two, but continued on their way toward the short wall that surrounded the city and castle. Not wishing to be left behind or to be slow to enter the city, the men quickly gave up on their argument and ran for their carts.
There were multiple entranceways into the castle stronghold. Trails of people disappeared inside the walls. Loose groupings came from the woods northwest of the city, from due west, and from where Lankor traveled with his group. Having begun late, they were just now catching up to a few vendors coming from the southwest. He could see in the distance a line of people from due east as well.
“They are arriving here from the beaches of Weilk-Alshore Ocean,” Zimp told him before he asked. “It takes a few days.” She stopped short and peered into the sky.
“Your sister?” Lankor said.
“Maybe,” she said. “I felt a terrible coldness in my chest.”
“No words?”
“Sometimes there are no words to express what lies ahead,” she said.
As they neared the castle, Zimp led them at a trot across the plain toward the main gate. “Mixing with the people will make it easier to be invisible.”
Lankor and the others followed. He heard hoofbeats behind him. Therin pulled ahead of him at Zimp's heels. Her horse kicked out but missed and Therin took a wider berth.
In the distance, at the main gate, a confusion of carts backed up and one tipped. From inside the compound, seven armed soldiers barged through the onslaught of vendors and kicked into a gallop toward Zimp and her friends. She halted in front of Lankor and he rode up close to her. Raik and Brok flanked them, just inside Lankor's peripheral vision. Therin sat obediently near Brok's horse.
The soldiers stopped in front of the small group. They wore the crest of Weilk, a barbed blackberry bush wrapped around a trout. Five deep purple berries grew at one end. The insignia was said to be one of the more elaborate in The Great Land. Lankor didn't recall its entire meaning, but knew that the fish and berries were the foods that kept their warriors alive during the great battles with Sclan to the north and Flande from the far west.
The largest of the men pushed his horse slightly in front of the others. “You are not traders. What is your purpose here?”
Lankor waited for Zimp to answer. Her horse stood to the front of their group and the soldier had addressed her directly. She turned slowly to acknowledge Brok.
He hesitated, then rode around Lankor to stop near Zimp. “We are travelers of the land,” he announced jovially. “We have never been in a great city the size of Castle Weilk.” He pointed to those entering through the main gate. “It looks as though we're here at the right time, too. What is the purpose of all these people? Is there a bazaar going on? Will there be dancers and singers?” His tone grew more excited with each question, like a child on an adventure.
The soldier relaxed. “We heard of a small band of invaders, one being a Flandean Guard. Those westerners
still believe we're at war with one another. If we find him, we'll throw him in the dungeons,” the man said. He looked the five of them over, lingering on each as though sizing them up. When his glare landed on Zimp his eyebrows raised. “A pretty one, and with you men?”
“My sister does not leave my side since our parents died,” Lankor blurted out aggressively.
“You needn't worry.” The guard obviously noted Lankor's bulk. “I take no woman who would not have me.” He leaned into his saddle. “But if she would have me, I would not complain.” Several of the men behind him laughed.
Lankor noted Zimp's restraint.
“Keep the animal tied while inside.” The soldier pushed his chin toward Brok. “You must be the owner. You have the same intensity in your eyes, the same look about you.”
The man had no idea what he was saying. Lankor waited for Raik to be acknowledged, but the soldier said nothing. He hardly met Raik's eyes at all, glancing past him as though he was invisible. The soldiers turned around and the leader twisted in his saddle. “Slow down and take your turn entering the gate.” He pointed at Therin and repeated, “Tie him now.”
Brok threw a leg over his saddle. He searched in his saddlebag. “Anyone have rope?”
Raik pulled a long cord from his saddlebag and handed it to Brok. “I know I'll feel more comfortable with him secured.”
Therin twisted his head from the loop Brok made of the cord. “Therin, hold still,” Brok said. He appeared to be having more trouble than he thought he would.
“Is he all right?” Lankor asked, knowing that everyone in the group understood the deeper part of the question.
“Therin!” The thylacine held still. Brok slid the cord over Therin's head. “He's fine for now.” Brok patted Therin's head then looked up at the soldiers.
Satisfied, they turned and headed back toward the castle.
“I think it might help if we addressed Therin by name. Maybe pose questions to help him remain in analytical thought, you know?” Brok said.