‘We are delighted to see you again. Sil-Jeve and the others are in the thinking-room. We would be grateful if you joined us.’
These silents were uncommonly chatty, Eln-Tika thought, and this one was no exception.
‘We have discussed you a lot, you know - my name's Fren-Halni, by the way. You're telepathic, aren’t you? Amazing! How detailed can you read thoughts? Or is it just emotions? We haven’t decided on the moral implications of thought-reading. Invasion of privacy and all that. And how do you manage with all these thoughts crowding in on you? Very difficult, I imagine.’
Eln-Tika listened with amusement at Fren-Halni asking then answering his own questions. She had to say very little, which suited her well. They walked along a corridor until they came to a rather large door. Beyond it was the thinking-room, a pleasant large room with windows along two sides, coloured rush carpets on the stone floor. The chairs were covered with a woven material that was cool to the touch and stuffed with something that made them comfortable to sit on. Once again, Eln-Tika felt envious. These silents had a good life. The work was not too difficult or too hard, the surroundings were pleasant, the company was good, and there was time to think and to talk. There was plenty of the last going on when Eln-Tika and Fren-Halni entered the room, but it immediately died away. Dalu-Mai, who was one of the silents Eln-Tika had already met, rose in welcome.
‘Forgive the ignorance of this sudden silence. We are treating you as a stranger when you are our friend. Come and sit over here.’
Eln-Tika sat in an empty chair by Dalu-Mai, feeling slightly awkward, but this feeling soon left her under the obvious friendliness of the silents. Dalu-Mai brought her a beaker and filled it with a pale gold liquid from a nearby jug.
‘This is mead,’ she explained. ‘We make it from honey. It's quite light. Nothing like that hassek you were drinking.’
Eln-Tika looked at her in surprise.
‘Oh yes, we heard all about that. There's not much we miss, even if we're not in the town. We also heard about the card game and the come-uppance of the Ennaris. We laughed, but we were also thoughtful.’
Eln-Tika said eagerly, ‘That's what I want to talk about. Did I do wrong? It has been worrying me ever since.’
Dalu-Mai gazed at her consideringly. She had wondered why Eln-Tika had used her telepathy for such base ends. It had not seemed in character, although she had to admit she hardly knew her. It was a relief to hear that she had had misgivings.
‘Why did you do it?’ she asked quietly.
‘My friends persuaded me. They said that the Ennaris needed to be taught a lesson, and that I was the one who could do it. It was difficult not to, and at the time I quite enjoyed it. But I now think it was wrong.’
‘But not a great wrong, Eln-Tika. You played within the rules of the game. The fact that the rules had not allowed for a telepath was hardly your fault. Your friends were a little thoughtless, for the Ennaris may try to have their revenge.’
‘How? Violence?’
‘I think not. They are not physical. They can hardly compete with you or your friends who are out all day chasing flatheads, massacring slashers, firing arrows everywhere.’
Eln-Tika laughed. ‘You know everything about us.’
‘Oh yes,’ Dalu-Mai said seriously. ‘We know everything about you. The attack on the slashers was the best news we have heard for a very long time. And the training in bowmanship. It's wonderful stuff.’
There was a murmur of assent from those silents who were within earshot.
Sil-Jeve said, ‘You and Wath-Moll have had more influence than you know. You have come from the wilderness to our town with the skills to survive against all your enemies, and you have set us alight. The slashers were becoming a problem, you know. We were becoming worried about their increasing attacks, and now you have shown us the way. We can all learn the skills you have. Admittedly, we will never be telepathic, but we can learn to shoot straight and fast. We will overcome the slashers eventually.’
Eln-Tika was rather amazed at the practicality of the outlook. Somehow, she had imagined the silents would be not of her world, but somewhere where thought took precedence over the reality. She was disappointed. She was here to exchange thoughts and so far all they had talked about was slashers and the card game. But it seemed that the silents, in their own way, were telepathic too.
‘However, that isn’t what you came for, is it, Eln-Tika? You're here to talk, I am sure.’
Eln-Tika answered, to the ears of the listeners, rather sadly. ‘Yes, that is why I am here. My friends are good friends, but I need more, it would seem.’
‘Of course. But first we will make a little music. Can you play an instrument, or do you sing?’
‘I can sing a little, but we only sang when we felt really safe, which was not often. The sound would attract enemies. Even when we sang, we did so very softly. We had no instruments, we just sang traditional songs in harmony.’
‘You never made up your own songs?’
‘We wouldn’t know how.’
Sil-Jeve smiled. ‘It’s a skill, I must admit. I have written a few songs. Dalu-Mai is better than me - she is more prolific too. We are about to perform one of her songs. We invite you to listen - join in if you wish. After the singing we will talk. For your benefit the subjects tonight will be tending towards the vast in scope. Why is the world the way it is? We don’t know. It is probably futile to speculate, but we do. What is the rest of the world like? We know that we chanits must only live in a small part of it. We could explore, perhaps, but again we prefer to speculate. What are the stars? We have wonderful ideas on that subject, I can assure you.’
Eln-Tika laughed. ‘Oh yes, I can imagine. We too have spent many evenings discussing the stars - without reaching a conclusion.’
Sil-Jeve laughed too. ‘You see, we have much in common.’
There followed the happiest evening Eln-Tika had ever known. She was surrounded by fellow creatures she held in awe, yet they seemed in awe of her. She could sense their admiration of the hunter from the wilderness who was yet highly intelligent and took abstract philosophising as seriously as they did themselves. And the music. The singing of the herdsmen was enjoyable but was nothing compared to the music of the silents. Their singing was immediately beautiful, a high ethereal melody over a soft yet rich bass with the instruments - some with plucked strings, others hollow tubes that were blown through a complicated mouthpiece - somewhere in between.
And there was the conversation. They talked of their world, how it might have come into being, whether there was much beyond the land that they knew, the distant sea that only a few had seen, and of her favourite subject, the stars. The silents too did not know what they where, and they had theories as bizarre as any the octet had held. It was a comfort to discover that Dalu-Mai held the same opinion as herself - that the stars were suns a long way off.
When she left, it was almost as though she had been drinking hassek. She felt light-headed, in a world that was not reality. She left the dimly lit room reluctantly, accompanied by Sil-Jeve and Dalu-Mai and walked the corridors to the darkness of the courtyard and her waiting blenji.
Dalu-Mai said, ‘The ten days will soon pass, Eln-Tika. We are eager for you to come again. Meanwhile, keep training your friends and keep safe. You're important.’
It was an odd thing to say. She was not important at all, except to herself and, presumably, to Wath-Moll. She waved them goodbye and rode back to the town and along the track to the farm.
Chapter 10
The second encounter with the slashers was unexpected and almost disastrous. Wath-Moll was riding with three of the herdsmen in search of a group of flatheads that had gone astray. He felt slightly uneasy without Eln-Tika, but they had not seen any enemies for such a long time that they felt it was safe to travel in smaller groups. Bro-Bak had decided that the two hunters could be split, thus allowing twice as many people the experience of riding with the professionals. Wath-Moll could see the lo
gic, but he felt uneasy.
The flatheads were found near a pond, grazing peacefully. The four riders rode easily towards them, spreading out as they did so. And then there was a blur of movement at the edge of Wath-Moll's vision and a slasher jumped at his blenji, wounding it fatally. As it fell to the ground, Wath-Moll leapt off his saddle and turned to the slasher, whipping out his bow and loading an arrow as he did so. But the slasher was already dead, killed by Ci-Nam's arrow. Wath-Moll spun round, looking for more, and fired three arrows. It was an almighty shambles. Slashers were appearing from all directions and arrows were flying everywhere. Then suddenly it was over. The slashers had gone and Sarn-Duil was dead. Wath-Moll was lifted onto the back of Ci-Nam's blenji where he sat uncomfortably. The three riders rode around the area, but the slashers had vanished. Wath-Moll dropped to the ground again and unemotionally walked round the dead slashers methodically removing the arrows. They left the bodies where they lay and returned slowly to the farm.
Wath-Moll had been shaken from his usual stoicism. He had never had his blenji killed under him before, and it had been an unnerving experience. When he found himself on the ground surrounded by slashers he had been briefly frightened. It was only his training and self-control that had made him react so decisively. He was also aware that without Ci-Nam's speed and marksmanship he would be dead. His brief thanks were received with a smile, but Wath-Moll felt awkward. It was an unusual and slightly demeaning experience for him.
There was a long post-mortem on the incident. It was obvious to all that they needed to return to larger groups, and that Eln-Tika, with her telepathy, was essential. But she could not be everywhere. They would have to be even more alert.
Wath-Moll discussed his feelings with Eln-Tika, but found her unsympathetic.
‘You're mortal, Wath-Moll. We will all die one day, perhaps of old age, but more likely through an attack or an accident. That is the way. As for you not seeing the slasher until it was too late, well you can’t see them all the time. They're quick and cunning. I wouldn’t worry about it. You're alive and the slasher is dead. That's all that matters.’
She was right, of course. That was all that mattered. And Wath-Moll put the incident from his mind and returned to his usual confident, matter-of-fact self.
It was obvious that the ditch needed to be made even more formidable. It had to be made deeper, and the spoil used to create an even higher bank on the inner side. It was also obvious that this was beyond the resources of the farm. They would need to enlist the help of the town.
‘It was how the ditch was made in the first place,’ Bro-Bak explained. ‘The town needs a ready source of food, so it is in the interests of the town to have successful farms. We will get enough people to dig a deeper ditch. That is not the worry. The worry is - will it keep the slashers out?’
Wath-Moll answered, ‘If it is deep enough - yes. There are limits to even the slashers' persistence and ingenuity, I would imagine. If we make it difficult enough, they will go away. After all, it is not too difficult to live on wild flatheads. We may even have made it difficult enough already. Most of their group must be dead.’
‘Yes, that may be so, but there will be others,’ Bro-Bak said thoughtfully. ‘We must discourage them even more.’
And so it came that the digging of a deeper ditch was organised, and although they were destined not to see the results of that decision, Wath-Moll and Eln-Tika were happy.
When Eln-Tika returned to the silent-house on the next tenth day, the silents reversed the roles and made her do the talking while they listened. It was pretty commonplace stuff to her, the life of an octet of hunters, how they hunted, collected berries, but, above all, talked in the evening. She described how they tried to understand their surroundings, the other animals, the changing seasons, the occasional storms, and, of course, the sun and the moon and the stars. The silents, too, were astronomers. They had made many measurements and had formed certain conclusions. Earth circled the sun, as did five other planets. The reasons for their certainty were quite beyond Eln-Tika's understanding, but she was very happy to accept their conclusion. The octet had come to the same conclusion. In the sky objects circled other objects. It was obvious that the moon circled the earth, while it was not difficult to imagine that the earth circled the sun. Why they did as they did was beyond understanding, but the silents felt there was an underlying principle to everything they saw. In time they would understand, and Eln-Tika, who was in awe of their intellect, had no doubt they would succeed.
The conversation had become animated, and it was only when one of the older silents was speaking and a certain calm prevailed, that Eln-Tika realised that Dalu-Mai was gazing at her intently.
Her question was tentative but penetrating. ‘Eln-Tika, how long will you stay with us? It seems to me that you cannot stay much longer. This is a dull life compared to the life of a hunter. Oh, I know it's dangerous and hard, but at least you live your life. You are always moving on, seeing new places.’
The question caught Eln-Tika by surprise. She enjoyed her new life now that she had become used to it, and she knew she and Wath-Moll were being very useful to this community. But there was undeniably a feeling of loss. She did miss the octet, even with its hardships and dangers.
‘It doesn’t matter how I feel, Dalu-Mai. It isn’t possible to survive in the wilderness without being in an octet, and we don’t have one.’
‘I would like to come with you.’
Eln-Tika was so astonished that she lost her natural tact. ‘You? But you're a silent. You don’t know what you're saying. You would need to be skilled at hunting - an octet can’t afford passengers. You would have to be trained.’
‘You're training the herdsmen.’
The conversation died away as the silents listened to the exchange.
Sil-Jeve said, ‘You haven’t rejected the possibility, Eln-Tika. Are you thinking of leaving us?’
‘No, I haven’t rejected the possibility. One day we may form an octet and leave, if another six would come with us. But I don’t think they would. Life in the town is too good.’
Sil-Jeve smiled. ‘You underestimate yourself. I don’t think you and Wath-Moll would have any trouble in forming an octet. You have inspired us all.’
‘I would miss the silent-house,’ Eln-Tika said simply.
Sil-Jeve laughed. ‘It's not very silent at the moment, but then it usually isn’t when you're here.’
‘Perhaps it should be,’ Eln-Tika said wistfully. ‘You haven’t shown me how to meditate.’
Sil-Jeve realised that Eln-Tika had unobtrusively changed the subject. His natural courtesy overcame his curiosity as to Eln-Tika’s feelings.
‘No, we haven't. That is our impoliteness.’
He rose from his chair and took Eln-Tika by the hand. ‘We will start now. It is the least we can do for you.’ Many of the candles had been put out so that the room had become a dim mysterious space. Sil-Jeve indicated that Eln-Tika should sit cross-legged on the floor. He said softy, ‘Now, simply relax - both your body and your mind. Then we will attempt to sharpen both.’
All the silents were now sitting on the floor in a circle. Eln-Tika had not seen the tables and chairs being moved to make the space. Under the soothing instructions of Sil-Jeve and Dalu-Mai, she was focussing her mind. Around her, she could feel the clarity of their thoughts brushing her, sweeping away the unnecessary. She had reached a sharp purity she had never felt before. The floor, so hard such a short time ago, seemed to have disappeared beneath her. She was suspended in a warm dark space surrounded by the clear thoughts of the silents. And then even those thoughts dissolved. She was in nothing and felt only peace.
It was broken by a tap on the shoulder.
‘Time to go,’ the quiet voice of Dalu-Mai said. ‘You need to return to the farm.’
Eln-Tika shook herself then returned slowly to the normal world. The time seemed to have vanished in a moment. She gazed round her. The silents seemed ridiculously normal, talk
ing quietly among themselves. She could still sense their thoughts with extraordinary clarity.
‘How was that?’ Dalu-Mai asked quietly.
‘Extraordinary. I felt I was surrounded by a vast space, very calm, very peaceful. And time - it just seemed to vanish.’
‘You’re no longer in time. Your mind moved into another realm that we call mayavo. You have a remarkable mind, Eln-Tika. No-one before has achieved mayavo at the first attempt.’
Eln-Tika did not want to leave. She wanted to stay amidst these clear and peaceful minds. She gave her leave to the silents with great reluctance.
Wath-Moll's thoughts, on the other hand, were anything but clear. He was playing a quiet game of cards with his friends when this Ennari appeared from nowhere.
‘Where's your telepathic friend?’ he asked. ‘Oh don’t look so puzzled. We know that was how she beat us - she could read our minds. It's very easy to win at cards when you can do that.’
This single ranting Ennari was soon joined by another, who tried to pull the first away.
‘Come on, Gorl-Fro, this isn’t an argument you're going to win. They played by the rules, if not by the spirit. We were tricked, but that's life.’ He turned to the staring herdsmen. ‘My apologies. We'll leave now.’
Wath-Moll watched them return to their table then he said to Tenni-Vill, ‘I thought the Ennari were villains. That Sarn-Duil doesn’t seem so bad.’
‘I'm glad you think that,’ a grim voice said - the voice, Wath-Moll had realised with some apprehension, of Ma-Sek. They had wondered what Ma-Sek would do when he learned of the trick, and now they were about to find out.
Ma-Sek voiced his opinion in terse, angry sentences. In essence, his job was to keep the peace, and anything which threatened to disturb that peace would be resisted with his very considerable powers. He did not approve of their trick.
All this Wath-Moll could understand. Indeed he sympathised with Ma-Sek's views. But then Ci-Nam said, ‘It was a good trick though, wasn’t it, Ma-Sek?’
The First Riders Page 8