The Second God

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The Second God Page 27

by Pauline M. Ross


  “I wouldn’t like to fly so far at night, not so close to darkmoon. If I leave at dawn and take the shortest route, I can be there before sunset.”

  “Kalmander is willing to fly in the dark,” Arran said. “I can leave within the hour, if you wish it.”

  “Thank you, Arran,” Yannassia said. “Please do that, but take no unnecessary risks. Just have a look and report back with any news. Do not attempt to make contact directly. We want you back safely.”

  He bowed formally to her, and whisked away to change into his flying gear.

  “Then you and Ly can go tomorrow,” Yannassia said. “You will have to use your initiative a great deal, Drina, since none of us will be there to advise you. Perhaps we should discuss strategies for each possible outcome—”

  “I have a better idea,” I said. “If I go to Greenstone Ford but Ly stays here, then we will have instant communication between us. You will have the information as soon as I do, and can make a considered decision on how to proceed.”

  She smiled. “Ah, yes. That is a much better idea. But you must take the greatest care, Drina. If you are captured, I cannot abandon my responsibilities to the Port Holdings to rescue you. Be very wary of these people.”

  “I know. It may be a trap. I have read all the histories, you know.”

  “Of course you have. You have read every book in the Keep library, I daresay. I know how sensible and cautious and well-protected you are, but none of that stops me worrying about you. All of you. Go now, get some sleep, but come and see me before you leave tomorrow.”

  ~~~~~

  That was a strange night. It was the first time since our blood-bonding that the three of us had not been together, curled up in one bed like children. Ly was unaccountably subdued.

  “Are you cross with me for leaving you behind?” I said as we snuggled into the blankets.

  “No, not at all. That is very sensible. It is, in many ways, the real purpose of a clavaia, at least for a byan shar. That is how the Clanlands are managed when they are united under one leader. The Clans are very independent, as a rule, and do not like to be told what to do. It is very useful, then, for a byan shar to send people wherever they are needed.”

  “Like your lion guard.”

  “Yes, exactly. I shall have to blood-bond with them next summer, I suppose, so that they can be my eyes and ears, and then you and Arran will not have to go away.” A long pause, and then he said, “I do not like us to be separated. Even though I understand the necessity, I do not like it.”

  I hugged him tight, and he nestled into my neck with a sigh of contentment. “Goodnight, sweet Princess. Thank you for saving me.”

  Arran was a strong presence in my mind, but he was far away, flying on Kalmander over the southern reaches of the Sky Mountains. If I looked through Arran’s eyes, there was nothing to see – the land lay in darkness. Once, I saw a fire below where a Bennamore caravan was camped for the night, and occasionally when the clouds cleared the road showed as a white line, but for most of his journey the stars were obscured and the moon was too feeble to show the landscape. I just had to trust to Kalmander to know where he was flying.

  When Ly had finally drifted off to sleep and my own tiredness was catching up with me, I sent my thoughts to Arran.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Fine. This is fun!”

  “Aren’t you cold, flying at night?”

  “Not especially. Why are you still awake? Go to sleep, my little flower.”

  “Good night, my love.”

  “Sleep well.”

  I smiled, and slept.

  ~~~~~

  When I woke, Arran’s presence was as strong as ever. I knew instantly that he was alive and happy and nearly at the watch camp. While I drank my morning brew, and dressed, and bade Yannassia farewell, and went up to the roof, I could feel Arran in my mind, as constant as a heartbeat. If ever anything dreadful happened to him, I would be aware of it at once. It didn’t stop me worrying about him, but at least I would never have to wonder whether he was alive or dead. And when I reached Arran’s side in a few hours, I would have the same reassurance about Ly.

  Sunshine was excited. She’d had no serious flying for some time, and was longing to stretch her wings. I hoped she had the strength for such a long flight, for dusk came early at this time of year, and camping alone in the wilderness, waiting for dawn, held no appeal. I had packed some provisions, just in case, and it helped that wild wolves or bears were no longer a fear, but even so, I didn’t relish the prospect.

  Flenn was to follow after me, in case we needed an interpreter. He’d made a study of the oddly guttural language of the Karningplain, which was spoken by everyone at Greenstone Ford. It was also useful that he was a mage, and had a dozen ways to get us out of trouble, if need be. His usual eagle was still too weak to fly, but he had chosen another and used his magic to control her. It was not as reliable a method as the Clanfolk’s mind bonding, but it worked.

  Ly came to see me off, face serious, shoulders hunched. “Take care. Do nothing hasty. These are dangerous people, remember that.”

  “I will.” I gave him a final hug, and then, because he looked so dispirited, a long kiss which brought a smile to his lips.

  “It is funny,” he said, “It used to be Arran who got left behind, and now I know just how he felt.”

  “You are not really left behind,” I said. “You are with me – with both of us – every moment. Besides, I shall be back in no time. I’m not planning any heroics, just trying to find out what happened and whether our people can be helped.”

  I’d not been flying long when Arran reached Greenstone Ford. “Do you want me to fly over the wagons?” he thought. “Or go down to have a closer look?”

  “Not yet. Talk to whoever is on watch duty, and see if anything has happened since Flenn left. Have a look at the wagons through the seeing tube. Don’t show yourself, in case you get hit by a windstorm.”

  “I do not think it could hurt me.”

  “No, but it could hurt Kalmander. Wait until I get there and can remove its magic. Don’t forget to report everything to Ly.”

  But there was nothing to report. The wagons had smouldered almost to nothing, and no one had gone in or out of the gates. On the walls, soldiers patrolled as usual, as if nothing at all had happened.

  The flight was less taxing than I might have expected. Sunshine had greater reserves of strength than I’d remembered, and although the air was cold enough that my breath made great clouds, I never felt uncomfortable. Maybe Ly’s blood was making me as tolerant of temperature as he was.

  Arran was waiting for me at the watch camp. Sunshine spiralled down to deposit me before rushing off to the ridge where Kalmander sat looking down at us, the usual ripple of amusement in his mind. I wondered what he found so entertaining in us. He reminded me of an elderly uncle of Cal’s who often came to visit when I was a child. He would sit and watch us play, always with a knowing little smile on his face, as if our antics were a great joke that only he understood.

  “Good evening, Kalmander,” I thought. He clicked his beak in response, and the amusement deepened.

  But then Arran wrapped me in a bear-hug, and I had no more time to wonder about it.

  “You made good time,” he said. “But you must have flown through rain. You are soaked.”

  I looked at my jacket in surprise. “So I am. I didn’t notice any rain. Maybe we passed through cloud?”

  He laughed. “The weather seems to affect us less now, and flying is easier, I find. We are becoming more Clan with every moon that passes. But come and eat and tell me what the plan is.”

  He sat me down beside the fire, and pushed a bowl of stew into my hands. “No plan yet, and it’s too dark now to do anything. In the morning, I’ll have a look and we can think about it.”

  “I don’t see what we can do, to be honest,” he said gloomily. “Whether our people are alive or dead, we can hardly walk up to the gates and ask, can we?�
��

  “Can’t we?”

  “Drina, we are at war with these people!”

  “Not exactly, and even if that were true, enemies may still have honourable dealings with each other. Besides, they cannot hurt us. Sunshine and Kalmander are vulnerable, but we are protected.”

  “They could take us prisoner.”

  “If they do that, they risk open war with Bennamore. I don’t think they’ll want to take that chance. They’re fully stretched at the moment, and we have the power to cut them off from their homeland in the north. I think we’re safe enough. But we’ll see what things look like in the morning, and what Yannassia says.”

  ~~~~~

  Another strange night. This time, it was Arran I cuddled up to, and he wasn’t subdued at all. In fact, he was full of vigour.

  “I don’t think we should,” I said. “What about Ly?”

  “He is not here, but I am,” Arran said sharply.

  “But he feels everything that we feel.”

  “He feels—? Oh, of course. Then he would—? Oh. Does that mean… we have to… abstain whenever we are apart? Because that would not be a comfortable situation.”

  “Go ahead,” said a voice in my head.

  “Ly? You don’t mind?”

  His amusement was very clear. “No. I am in bed too, so this is a good time. I am here, and also with you. Enjoy yourselves.”

  So we did, but it was very odd, all the same.

  ~~~~~

  The morning dawned damp and miserable, so that the crawl through the heather to the watch post was even less pleasant than usual. And to no purpose, for there was nothing at all to look at, besides the blackened remains of the wagons abandoned before the gates, and the soldiers marching back and forth, back and forth endlessly on the wall above.

  “Ly? Tell Yannassia that I’m going in for a closer look at the wagons. I may be able to tell…” I swallowed, and took a calming breath. “If I can see bones, then there may be nothing left for us to do here.”

  “I will tell her. She is right here.” A long pause. “She is not happy about it, but she trusts your judgement.”

  Arran and I crawled back to the camp, tucked away in its hollow. Flenn was there, having arrived in the middle of the night. The eagles were already there, too, waiting for us, Sunshine clicking her beak excitedly, Kalmander as amused as ever.

  “What do you find so funny, eagle?” I said to him, but he just bobbed his head about. I swear he was laughing at me.

  The three of us mounted our eagles, and circled round behind the hills at low altitude so that we could approach from the north, along the river. No point drawing attention to the camp’s location. Then we glided in to land on the wide paved road between the ford and the gates. On either side, the tall plains grasses with their great plumes towered over our heads. Not a hundred paces away, one of Ly’s lions crouched, hidden by the high grass, an invisible protector for us. Only we knew he was there.

  About halfway between river and wall was a wide area of flattened grass where the roads leading north and south met and crossed those heading east and west. This was where arriving wagons would wait for the gates to open for the market, and where they would congregate afterwards to collect their armed guards for the journey home. At those times, this would be a bustling place, with horses tethered under the few shade trees, pots of brew steeping on small fires and a great deal of gossip and gambling and discussion of wool prices. Now it was deserted, with only the charred skeletons of eight wagons to one side.

  We sent the eagles across the river to wait, out of range of arrows from the wall, and walked up to the wagons. Three of them were burned to ash, with only a few fire-blackened metal parts remaining. But the rest were more intact, and with a bit of poking and prodding on one of them, we could see into the secret compartment where our spies would have hidden. I left the two men to investigate the inside, not sure I could stomach finding anything gruesome.

  “Nothing in that one,” Arran said after a while. “We’d better look at them all.”

  They began a methodical check, prising apart boards and peering into the dark spaces. Even damaged by fire, though, the Gurshmonta wagons were solid and took some dismantling, so the morning was wearing away before they reached the final wagon. I was getting jumpy by this time. It’s one thing to know that I was protected from arrows or stones or swords, and quite another to stand within bow range of the walls for hours. Yet the inhabitants gave no sign that they’d even noticed us. Above us on the walls, the golden helmets moved back and forth at a measured pace. Somewhere in the distance, chimes marked the passing hours. And the gates remained firmly closed.

  “Well, that is the last one. As far as we can tell, no one was in any of these,” Arran said.

  “That’s a good sign, isn’t it?”

  “Possibly. We are no nearer knowing whether they are still alive, though.”

  “Well, there’s only one way to find out,” I said. “Let’s knock on the door and ask.”

  “Drina, I do not think—”

  “Look,” Flenn said, grabbing my sleeve and pointing. “There!”

  I followed his finger, found the gate – and it was opening. Not the massive main gate, but a smaller, human-sized one cut into it. A figure stepped through and the gate closed again.

  “Now what?” muttered Arran.

  29: Terms

  He was a nondescript man of average height, wearing the sort of gear that an expensive guard-for-hire might choose – comfortable trousers and tunic in practical brown, with well-fitted armoured leather on top and quality boots, although he carried no visible weapons. His hair was long but neatly trimmed. Probably he was the wrong side of fifty, but still in good condition. A guards’ commander, at a guess.

  “Who do you think he is?” Arran thought.

  “We’ll find out. Ly? Are you watching this?”

  “Yes. I have two more lions within range, and a group of moa, if you need them.”

  “He looks harmless,” I thought, but the worry in Ly’s mind was palpable.

  The man in brown smiled as he approached. I’d had years of experience of reading people’s expressions and movements, and I saw nothing threatening in him.

  “Good morning to you,” he said, with a bow, hand on chest. “May I be of service in any way?” Presumably he spoke his own language, but I had no trouble with the meaning. It was useful to be able to understand everything that was said in a foreign language.

  “Greetings,” I said. “We are Bennamorians, come to discover why our compatriots’ wagons were destroyed, and what happened to them.”

  Flenn translated, struggling a little with some words, but the man in brown nodded in comprehension. “The wagons were permitted access to our marketplace to conduct their business, but they abused our hospitality by concealing traitors inside, with the intention of smuggling them out of the town.”

  “Traitors?” I said, and again Flenn struggled to find the word.

  The man in brown smiled more broadly. “So we call those who would betray our secrets to outsiders.”

  I wondered what secrets they had that they were so anxious to conceal, but it wasn’t something I could ask about. “If any Bennamorian has broken your laws, I am sorry for it. But I would hope you would be generous towards guests within your walls, who may not be aware of all the complexities of your laws.”

  Flenn threw me a despairing glance, but he manfully attempted to translate.

  The man in brown spread his hands wide in acknowledgement. “Indeed we are. That is why we have not yet executed them for their crimes.”

  “I am relieved to hear it,” I said, and that was certainly true. If they were alive, we might yet salvage something from the situation. “I should like to know more of these crimes, and perhaps discuss how Bennamore might compensate you for any losses incurred. Are you the proper person for us to deal with?”

  When Flenn translated this, the man in brown frowned. “I am not sure I understand the
question.”

  “Do you speak for the authorities here? Do you have the power to negotiate with us?”

  He chuckled. “I speak for the authorities, yes.”

  “Then perhaps we may know your name and rank? I am Axandrina, the Bai-Drashonor – heir – to the Drashona, the ruler of Bennamore. I have the authority to negotiate on her behalf. This is Arran, and this is Flenn.”

  “I am Trimon. I hold a position in the household of the Sublime Dragon God of the Winds. Arran and Flenn – they are your bodyguards?”

  “Arran is my drusse – like a husband. Flenn…” I thought quickly. Best not reveal that Flenn was a mage. “Flenn is our interpreter.”

  “You’re brave, Most High Axandrina, to come here alone and defenceless, without an army to give force to your words. Or perhaps your queen is foolish to send you.”

  I had to smile at the idea that I was defenceless. “Perhaps. But my only wish is to talk to you, Lord Trimon, and I don’t believe that you would attack an unarmed woman, who is no threat to you. Was I wrong in that belief?”

  “No threat? Yet our trading caravans have been frequently attacked by lions and eagles and other strange creatures, all controlled by men, and now you yourselves arrive on the backs of eagles, just like them. That is a little suspicious, don’t you think?” The smile never wavered but the tone in his voice was suddenly cold.

  “When whole towns are taken over by hostile forces, it’s not too surprising that their friends rally round to help them.”

  “Since when was Bennamore a friend to Greenstone Ford?” he said.

  “Greenstone Ford is – or was – independent, and no concern of ours. The same with Rinnfarr Gap. But Dellonar – that is a different matter. We have treaties and accords and pacts and a whole host of arrangements with them, going back hundreds of years. The Port Holdings are very much our concern.”

  Flenn shot me an apologetic glance. “I… got a bit lost there. Can you start again?”

  “No matter,” Trimon said. “I understand you well enough. I picked up some of the language in Dellonar, and you sound much the same.”

 

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