Relics of War

by Lawrence Watt-Evans

  The man’s skin, on the other hand, was unusually pale, and his beard a lighter shade of brown than Garander had ever seen on a human face. Garander was unable to judge his age, except that he was a grown man and not yet going gray.

  “Ishta,” the stranger said. Then he looked directly at Garander and said, speaking loudly but with a thick, unfamiliar accent, “Did you know someone followed you?”

  “What?” Ishta turned, staring into woods behind her. Garander did not think she had spotted him, but there was no point in pretending any further—the stranger was obviously not going to be fooled. Garander stepped out from behind the tree and moved a few steps toward Ishta and the stranger, to make conversation easier, but stopped when he was still several yards away so as not to seem threatening.

  “Hello, Ishta,” he said. “Would you like to introduce me to your friend?”

  “Garander?” Ishta said, shocked. “You spied on me?”

  “I followed you,” Garander said. “I don’t think it was spying, exactly.”

  “You were spying on me!”

  Garander sighed. “Fine, I was spying on you. Are you going to introduce me, or not?” As he spoke he was keeping a careful eye on the stranger—and the stranger, he saw, was watching him just as warily. He had not, however, reached for a weapon, and almost certainly some of those mysterious tools were weapons; that was encouraging. It was still suspicious for a grown man to be meeting a girl of eleven in the woods without her family’s knowledge or permission, though.

  Ishta glared at him for a moment, then said, “Fine. Garander, this is my friend Tesk. Tesk, this is my brother Garander.”

  “I am pleased to meet you,” the stranger said. Garander had never before heard anyone pronounce simple Ethsharitic so strangely.

  “Yes,” Garander said, rather than making a polite response that would be a lie. “Tesk, is it?”

  The stranger smiled. “Ishta calls me Tesk. My real name is Tezhiskar Deralt aya Shatra Ad’n Chitir Shess Chitir.”

  Garander listened to this jumble of meaningless syllables and said, “Tesk it is, then.”

  “Yes,” the stranger said. “Gorandaar?”

  “Garander,” Garander corrected him.

  “Garander. Yes.”

  “Why are you here?” Garander asked.

  The stranger glanced at Ishta. “Here? Where do you mean?”

  “In these woods. What are you doing here? Who are you?”

  “I live here.”

  Garander looked around for a house, or shed, or lean-to, or tent, or even just a hole in the ground or a hollow tree. He saw none. “Where?” he asked.

  “Anywhere,” Tesk replied. “I do not have a shelter. I sleep in any tree that is handy.”

  “In a tree?”

  “Yes.”

  “Any tree?” Garandar was trying to make sense of this bizarre claim.

  The stranger did something with his shoulders. “One that is strong enough to hold me, with branches to climb,” he replied. “That one, for example.” He pointed to a nearby oak.

  Garander wanted to be sure he understood this. “So you don’t have a home?”

  “I do not.”

  Even if that was true—and Garander was not yet convinced—it left the stranger’s origins a mystery. “Where did you come from, then?” he asked.

  “I do not know. I do not remember. I have always lived in the forest.”

  Garander frowned. “I don’t believe that. You must have come from somewhere.”

  “Garander, you’re being rude,” Ishta said.

  “He merely wishes to protect his family,” Tesk said. “That is good of him.”

  “He doesn’t need to protect me! He stole my talisman!”

  “I didn’t steal it! The Baron of Varag did.”

  “Well, you gave it to the baron!”

  “Father made me!”

  “But you did it!”

  Garander glared at her helplessly, then turned to Tesk. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s a family disagreement; we shouldn’t be speaking of it here in front of you.”

  “I am not troubled,” Tesk answered. “I am glad to hear human voices. I have been alone a very long time.”

  “You have? How long?”

  Again, the stranger made that curious movement, lifting his shoulders and then dropping them. “I do not know,” he said. “Several years.”

  “That’s why he talks funny!” Ishta said.

  “Is that right?” Garander asked.

  The stranger hesitated.

  “He’s forgotten how to act normal!” Ishta insisted.

  “Or he wasn’t normal in the first place,” Garander said. “It sounds to me as if he grew up speaking another language, and hasn’t learned Ethsharitic very well.”

  The stranger smiled, a tight, humorless little smile, but he did not say anything; he neither confirmed nor denied Garander’s guess.

  “If you’ve lived alone in the woods for years,” Garander asked, “how do you keep your clothes so neat? Why haven’t they worn out?”

  “They were very well made to begin with,” Tesk said. “I am careful with them. I wash them and I repair them when necessary.”

  “Who made them for you?”

  Tesk stared at him without blinking for several seconds before replying, “I do not remember.”

  “You don’t know where you got that hat?”

  “No. I have had it for as long as I can remember.”

  “Stop asking him silly questions!” Ishta said, stamping a foot. “He’s my friend, not some stranger who’s planning to steal our things.”

  “How do you know he isn’t?” Garander asked.

  “Because he hasn’t done it yet! Garander, he’s been living out here for ages, but he hasn’t taken anything.”

  “So what does he eat?” Garander demanded of his sister.

  She looked at Tesk, who said, “I catch animals for meat. I gather berries and nuts and apples when they are in season.”

  “You can live on that?”

  “I do not need much. I do not exert myself needlessly.”

  Garander had no evidence that this was anything but the simple truth, and in any case it didn’t really matter. He dropped the subject and got to the important point. “What do you want with my sister?”

  Tesk looked surprised. “Nothing,” he said. “We met by chance. We spoke. We enjoyed the conversation, so she has returned several times to speak again.”

  “That’s all?”

  “I have been alone a long time. Any human contact is welcome.”

  “Then why haven’t you come out of the woods and found a place for yourself among other people?”

  Tesk blinked. He took several seconds to consider before answering, “I do not know.”

  That surprised even Ishta. “You don’t?” she asked.

  “I had not thought about it.”

  “You can come home with us!” Ishta exclaimed.

  “Hold on,” Garander said, before Tesk responded. “I don’t know about that. Father probably doesn’t want us bringing strangers home.”

  “We could ask him.”

  “Please do not,” Tesk said. “I am content as I am. I do not wish to intrude on your family.”

  “I don’t—” Garander began.

  “Are you sure?” Ishta interrupted.

  “I am quite certain, Ishta. I do not wish to inconvenience anyone.”

  “If you’re willing to work, it might not be an inconvenience,” Garander suggested.

  Tesk shook his head. “No. I am content living in the forest.”

  “I should tell our father you’re here—” Garander began.

  “No!” Ishta and Tesk exclaimed simultaneously.

  “I do not wish to worry anyone,” Tesk added. “He would be concerned about my presence.”

  “He’d want to drive Tesk away!” Ishta said.

  Garander could not argue with either of these statements, but he said, “I don’t like keeping th
ings secret from him.”

  “I do!” Ishta said. “You saw what happened when you showed him that talisman! You still owe me for that, Garander, and I want you to promise not to tell Father about Tesk!”

  Garander bit his lip as he glowered at his sister.

  “You won’t do anything stupid?” he asked her.

  “No!”

  “You’ll tell me if Tesk does anything he shouldn’t? If he steals anything, or tries to hurt anyone?”

  “I promise.”

  “I will not steal anything or harm anyone,” Tesk said. “But I understand why you do not take my word.”

  Garander glanced at him, then turned back to Ishta.

  “And after this we’re even? No more apologies or demands or anything?”

  “If you keep this secret I’ll forgive you for the talisman. I’ll even owe you a favor!”

  Garander smiled. “Then how can I refuse? But I will tell Father all about Tesk if you go missing, or anything.”

  Ishta glanced at Tesk, then nodded. “That’s fair.”

  “Then we’re all set.” He turned back to the black-clad stranger. “So what’s your native language? You don’t sound as if you grew up with Ethsharitic.”

  “I have not spoken much,” Tesk said. “For as long as I can remember, I have had no one to speak to.”

  That did not actually answer the question, Garander noticed. This Tesk apparently had some secrets of his own. “I’m told that up in Sardiron people mix their Ethsharitic with the old Northern tongue,” he remarked.

  Tesk looked puzzled. “Sardiron?”

  “Sardiron of the Waters. It’s north of here. The Council of Barons meets there.”

  Tesk looked politely blank. “Council of Barons?”

  Garander sighed. “Some of the commanders of the old army don’t accept the authority of the overlords of Ethshar,” he said. “They each claimed a piece of land, and they call themselves barons, and they have a council where they meet to decide what to do.”

  “And what do the overlords of Ethshar say about this?” Tesk asked. Garander thought he heard a note of concern in the stranger’s voice.

  “They say the Northern taint in these lands has driven these men mad, and it’s not worth fighting over, and they’ll come to their senses in time. At least, that’s what I’ve heard. I’ve never seen any of the overlords myself.”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Have you ever seen an overlord?” Ishta asked Tesk.

  He smiled. “No, I have not. I live in the forest; what would one of the mighty rulers of Ethshar be doing in such a place?”

  Garander smiled in return. Although he still had no idea what the man was doing here, he was starting to like Tesk.

  They chatted for a few more minutes, and Garander grew steadily more comfortable with the stranger. His speech was awkward, but he seemed pleasant and calm. At last, though, Garander said, “We should be getting back, before our parents miss us. They’ll want us to help with supper.”

  Ishta opened her mouth to protest, but Tesk said, “Yes. You should. But I will see you again?”

  Garander nodded, and Ishta said, “Of course!”

  They turned and headed back toward the farm. Garander glanced over his shoulder to see Tesk standing there, watching them go—but then the stranger moved, so fast that Garander thought he must be imagining it, and leapt for a tree branch. A moment later he had climbed up and vanished among the treetops.

  Garander looked down at his sister, who had missed the whole thing.

  “How did you find him?” he asked.

  “The first time? I don’t know. He was crouching on the ground looking for something, and I asked what it was he wanted.”

  “What was it?”

  “He wouldn’t say. He said it wasn’t important.”

  “When was that?”

  She turned up an empty palm. “Maybe a month ago?”

  “How often have you been out here, then?”

  She gave Garander a disgusted look. “I’ve been playing in the woods since I was a baby!” she said.

  That was true—and their parents had been trying to put an end to it ever since they first noticed. Warnings about dragons and bears and mizagars had not deterred her; neither had spankings, withheld meals, or anything else. Garander did not really understand why she was so determined; he had never been so obsessed with the forest. He kept hoping she would outgrow it.

  “I meant, how often have you been meeting Tesk?”

  “Oh. I don’t know, maybe five or six times, counting today.”

  “So what do you know about him that he didn’t mention today?”

  She turned up her palm again. “I don’t know,” she said. “I think he’s a halfwit, the way he talks, and he says he doesn’t remember anything about his family, or where he grew up, or anything.”

  “He seems smart enough to me,” Garander remarked.

  “But he doesn’t know anything!” Ishta said. “He looks smart, and everything, but he doesn’t know anything!”

  Garander considered that for a pace or two. He suspected that this Tesk knew plenty of things he did not admit to, and there was probably a reason for that. “I’m not sure it’s safe, talking to him,” he said. He spoke mildly; he did not want to antagonize his sister now that they were finally speaking to one another freely again.

  “Oh, don’t be silly,” Ishta replied. “He’s not a bear, or anything.”

  “No, he’s not a bear, or a mizagar or a dragon, but he’s a man, and men can be dangerous.”

  “He’s a nice man,” Ishta insisted. “He talks to me like a real person, and he’s interested in everything, not just in farming like you and Father, or clothes like Shella, or food like Mother.”

  “I’m interested in other things!” Garander protested.

  “Well, yeah,” Ishta conceded. “But I was mad at you about my talisman.”

  “So what do you talk about?”

  Ishta looked down at her feet as they walked. “Oh, trees, and sunlight, and dragons, and throwing rocks, and the neighbors, and, you know, stuff.”

  Garander nodded. “Sounds nice,” he said.

  “I told you he was,” Ishta said, raising her head.

  Garander did not argue—for one thing, they had reached the edge of the forest, and he did not want to answer any awkward questions should one of their parents overhear their conversation. Neither of them spoke again until they reached the house.

  Chapter Five

  That night Garander lay awake in his bed, staring at the dark beams overhead and thinking about what he had seen and heard.

  Tesk did seem pleasant enough, but why was he there, in the woods? Why was he dressed all in black? Why did he move and speak so strangely?

  That clothing was unlike anything Garander had ever seen before. So were the tools Tesk carried, whatever they were. Those weren’t anything he found in the woods, and Garander didn’t see how Tesk could have made them without a workshop of some sort. They were much too finished for anything made by hand out of materials found in the forest.

  In fact, they looked downright magical.

  Tesk did not admit to remembering any family, or any origins. If he was lying, then he was hiding something. If he was telling the truth, then something very strange had happened to him at some point. After all, he must have had parents once—parents, or a creator.

  Tesk’s tools, his clothing, his way of moving—they all smacked of magic. It was possible he had been created by magic. He might be something a magician had made in the shape of a man, or something a magician had turned into a man—a snake, perhaps, from the way he moved. Garander didn’t know enough about magic to say with any certainty what sort of magician could have done such a thing; he thought a wizard probably could and a witch probably couldn’t, but sorcerers and theurgists and demonologists, well, he just didn’t know. Tesk could be a clay statue brought to life, a creature conjured out of thin air, a transformed beast…

&n
bsp; Or a ghost. Maybe he could survive in the woods because he was already dead, and didn’t know it. That would explain why he wasn’t worried about finding enough food, and his missing memories fit with some of the ghost stories Garander had heard.

  But he had certainly looked solid enough, even in bright daylight. That didn’t seem very ghostly.

  And of course, he might just be a human being, despite the strangeness.

  But if he was human, why was he living in the forest? Why did he talk so oddly? Where did he get those clothes, and the things he carried? Why wouldn’t he say where he had come from?

  Garander tried to find some way of avoiding the obvious conclusion, but he couldn’t. Tesk was living in territory that had belonged to the Northern Empire right up to the very end of the Great War, in an area where that talisman Ishta had found proved Northerners had been active. He spoke like someone whose first language was something very unlike Ethsharitic. He wouldn’t say who he really was or where he was from.

  However unlikely it seemed after so long, he might be a Northerner. He might have somehow survived the war, and hidden out in the forest ever since. Yes, the gods had blasted the Empire out of existence, and the armies of Ethshar had wiped out the remnants of the Northern military, but that didn’t mean every single Northerner had died. Garander had never heard of any Northern survivors, but that didn’t mean much; he was a farmer’s son on the edge of civilization, not anyone who heard all the latest gossip. For all he knew, hordes of captured Northerners had been paraded through the streets of Sardiron, or sold into slavery in Ethshar.

  But if Tesk was a Northerner, then he was evil, wasn’t he? The entire Northern Empire had been evil—that was why Old Ethshar had fought against it for a thousand years, and why the gods finally destroyed it. That was why killing all the Northerners had been a good thing to do, when killing anyone else was a horrible crime—Northerners were evil by their very nature.

  Tesk didn’t seem evil.

  But appearances could be deceiving; Garander knew that.

  And there were exceptions to every rule; Garander knew that, too. Maybe Tesk really was a Northerner, but still wasn’t evil; maybe that was why the gods had spared him when they destroyed the Empire. Maybe he was an exception.