“I became distracted, father and I have no explanation why.” “Distracted?” Tarim's tone was one of inquiry mixed with that edge again.
“I cannot explain it, but I was saved by somebody upstream, and the least I could do to repay him was bring him here to share our meal.”
“Are you sure about this? Zya?”
“You remember I said there was something different about the feeling I was getting? Well there is a reason for the difference. The one watching us was already here, and not one of those following. I bade him wait above the waterfall, for his own safety of course.” Zya ended her sentence with a wicked twist of humour, the implication bringing a smile to her father's face.
“Well bring him in then, now that I know to not chop him into shreds!” he replied comically, getting a laugh from both Zya, and Ju, who had finally noticed that there was something going on aside from cooking fish.
Zya walked towards the waterfall. Just as she was about to climb, the fisherman stepped out from the shadows making her jump. “I told you to wait upstream, for your safety!”
“I knew that I wasn't in any danger. I have been watching you for some while,” he said by way of explanation, or apology – Zya could not decide which. He approached the fire. “She wasn't too far gone, sir. It could have been a problem had we let her wander for much longer though. The draw is irresistible further up, and she would have been lost to you had she done much further.” For a person who was normally in control of events, Zya felt very unnerved to be the last one to know things here. She stared at the three other people around the fire. Ju was unaware of course. Her father reeked of relief, and the fisherman had that slightly amused expression he seemed to carry with him for times like this.
“I don't suppose you want to fill me in on what I have missed do you?”
Tarim beckoned her close to the fire, and the fisherman joined them. “Just after you left, I saw a movement in the trees beyond the bank there. After some gentle persuasion, I managed to extract our friend here from an excellent hiding place beneath the roots. He asked why you had gone upstream, and when I told him, he waited only long enough to explain why you should not go up there and then dashed off after you.”
Zya looked over at the fisherman, lounging with ease on ground that seemed to reach up and fit his body. “So, what is your story then?”
The fisherman proceeded to tell them at great length of his reason for being at the pool. As they cooked the fish, to which he added several provisions and spices they had never before heard of, he explained why the fish were there. The fisherman's sole duty was to care for them. He was part of one of the Southern most Uporan tribes; the nomads who wandered the steppes. They had found this place a long time ago, and had garnered it to their needs. The fish that inhabited this pool before were small, and of no use, but certain guardians within the tribe made it their purpose to build both the stocks up, and their size. With a lot of care, and food, the fish grew dramatically in size, providing a good source of sustenance for the tribe.
As there were not many places like this on the steppes, the tribe would migrate this way, or send those who could carry the fish more swiftly. When Tarim politely inquired as to their need for this, with all the meat from herds available to them, the fisherman explained that the oils in the fish were essential for the young. They had seen too many other tribes become ill eating only the meat of the animals on the land that they sent people out to look for a different source of food. It just happened that the fisherman's grandfather found this place. The subject of the pool led the fisherman to describe what the mountains did to attract travellers.
“We have never been sure, but it seems that our seers and herb-women have been caught by the mountains. It began a while after we came here. The tribe would take it in turns to come here, so enamoured were they with this new source of food. Occasionally, so my father told me, one wouldn't return from the pool. Trackers would be sent in all directions but the result was always the same – nothing. Sometimes it would be men who would become lost to us, but it was mostly women. One herb woman volunteered to try to find the source of the disappearances, taking several hunters with her. One day, she was walking above the waterfall gathering flowers and she started talking about the mountains, continually gazing at them as if nothing else existed. The warriors followed her, and as she walked on, she became more and more distant. Eventually, past a certain point in the stream she could not hear them at all, paying no heed whatsoever. It was not much further up than Zya was when I caught up with her.” The fisherman eyed Zya as he said this, caution mixed with relief.
“But that time, she just disappeared. There was no explanation. It sufficed to be thought of as a mystery with a possible solution. We know that there is a city in the mountains there, but we pay extra caution to even mention it, let alone think of going there. They say that something within the city draws certain people towards it, such as those with any talent.”
The fisherman looked pointedly at Zya. “Are you one of those people?”
Zya was taken aback; she had certainly not expected a sudden question like that from a character she had only recently met. Raising her hand to her throat defensively she replied. “I may be… I don't know for sure.”
Noticing the gesture, the fisherman raised his hands in an effort to reassure her. “I ask, because if you are, it would be a shame for you to get trapped there. It is not only here that my people have been drawn from, but also elsewhere. Many tribes have reported losses that have never been explained, even up on the steppes. There is a whole region we do not risk going through for fear of losing one of our elders.”
“How far does this region you speak of extend?” asked Tarim, hunched forward as he was eating his fish.
Without pause the fisherman answered. “It extends as far as this all the way around the mountains, as far as we have managed to find out by those lost. It has always been when the mountains are just this big.” He held his finger and thumb up, a small distance apart.
In a moment of impulse, Ju jumped up and raced to where he could see the mountains, just above the waterfall. He came back with his finger and thumb spread quite far apart. “It is much more than that here.”
The fisherman laughed. “Remember boy that you have smaller hands than I.” When Ju's eyes moved to his own hands, and his face became a frown, Zya knew he knew he was wrong. He sat across the fire and glared sullenly at the fishermen from under his mop of hair. It occurred to Zya that Ju had finally found something he could test the fisherman on and hopefully beat him. One member of their small party did not trust this man at all.
“We know where the boundary is, and the separate tribes do their best to ensure that nobody crosses them. There are markers that are recognisable by all of the tribes. You have no reason to trust me, this I know. But promise me, never cross the small piles of rock that dot the land, or your daughter will be lost forever. The fisherman was talking to her father at this point, but he was looking straight toward Zya. She suddenly felt naked, vulnerable under his stare and she didn't know why. In the gloom of the evening, sitting around a fire by a pool in the middle of nowhere, Zya suddenly wished for a decent set of clothes. Coming to her senses, she realised that what she had was enough, and she needed nothing else. The nondescript brown clothing and the cape that she wore were ideal for travelling this sort of country. The only luxury was her dagger. Touching the hilt reassuringly, she realised the conversation had passed her by, and they were conversing on another subject. It was time for the tribe to swing by and pick up a harvest of fish. The current batch had laid eggs in the pool, and these were close to hatching.
“We will travel North with the tribe, if that is where they are headed,” Tarim decided out loud, and Zya felt a sudden wrench in her gut at the thought of leaving the fisherman. Why she felt this, she did not know, as she had barely known the man for more than a quarter of a day, but she felt it all the same. Ju seemed to take the news with apparent indifference, bu
t Zya knew that feeling of mistrust still simmered under the surface somewhere.
“I will vouch for you all,” said the fisherman, in reply to Tarim. “I am satisfied that you intend no ill harm to anybody and I will say as much to the elders.”
“When will they get here?” Zya asked, trying to mask the concern in her voice with a bland curiosity. The fisherman looked up at the sky, becoming steadily brighter as more and more stars blinked into view.
“Tomorrow, or the day after maybe.”
Zya looked upwards. “How can you tell from looking up at the sky?”
The fisherman rose and walked over to Zya, sitting quietly next to her. He pointed and she followed his finger. Far off to the South a line of stars dipped to the horizon, four of them in total. “You see the line of stars? Well at this time of year they hang almost vertically in the Southern sky. The tribes knows that it is time to travel this way when the stars align as such.”
“Using the sky-map has often been the way people have been able to travel the land without a map.” It was her father speaking. “As travellers, we really never had any need of it.”
“While that may be true to the Flanders, sir, up here, the land is pretty much as you see it. Aside from the mountains, there is little else to use as a guide. The stars are eternal; they will always be there for us.”
Zya looked at her father, gazing at the night sky. “Father, you know how to travel by the stars? How come you have never mentioned it?”
Tarim turned from the stars to look at his daughter. “You have never needed it, Zya. As travellers, we have always had the maps and the knowledge of our people to guide us; those who have gone before.”
“What about now? Could I learn how to read the stars at a guild in Bay's Point?”
The fisherman shuddered. “You do not want to go there, ever. It is not safe for you in the pirate city to the West. Even here, we hear of that place. A nasty place, full of those who have nothing for each other except spite, hatred and ill intent.”
Zya stared at the fisherman defiantly. “But I must go there if I am to learn what I must become. I need to know.”
“There are others who may be able to help you with such a need, daughter of Tarim. You just need to know where to look for them. The tribes are attuned to nature in ways you could not believe. There are those who could teach you to understand yourself without having to risk losing your life in such a dreadful place. Surely it is worth the chance of finding out. If you went to such a city you might as well go to that city in the mountains…”
“Enough,” Tarim interrupted him. “I will hear no more talk of that place. It nearly claimed Zya before and for that you have my eternal thanks. But that subject should be stricken utterly from your thoughts. Fisherman, we will wait with you if that is your wish, and find out whether we can accompany your tribe where they may go. If they won't have us, we will have no choice but to risk uncertainty to the West.”
The fisherman looked eager. “They will let you, I am sure of that, Tarim S'Vedai.” Zya decided that it was best to wait and see.
They waited at the camp a couple of days, and while they spent time around the pool, the fisherman showed them its secrets. One morning, when the mist had settled over the landscape, blanketing everything with its wispy shroud, he took them down to the pool. He showed them the extent of the underground tunnel by means of a path that was virtually undetectable unless you knew exactly where to look. With torches lit, they explored the cavern, becoming awed at the sheer size of it. From the outside the tunnel was big enough to allow the pool to spread back, but as they wandered further in, it spread out wide to each side.
The pool wandered over the lowest parts of the cavern, sticking mainly to the centre. The fish were obvious and easy to detect, the light of the torches reflecting off of their silvery coats of mail in the dark. All in all, it made for a spectacular vision of beauty that Zya never thought she would find in a place such as this. With the light reflecting off of the minerals in the cavern walls it was as if the stars had come to earth and taken up a permanent residence. Ju was very hesitant at first having never been in this sort of environment, and to Zya, he obviously wanted to prove something to the fisherman, so he joined them reluctantly. His inhibitions quickly disappeared though, and he was soon the inquisitive boy Zya had met all that time back in Hoebridge. At length though their torches began to burn down, and the fisherman ushered them politely but firmly out, despite all of their protests.
They emerged to a scene unlike anything Zya had ever seen. Before, they had been alone, just one little camp. Now, the camp was well over a hundred tents, all dotted around the small oasis in this dry land. Zya found her father surrounded by a knot of men, all as big as he was, but much broader of shoulder. There was an air of tension, but when the men saw the fisherman, the tension visibly eased. One approached them as they walked closer. He was a great bear of a man, and his long hair was iron-grey. He clasped arms with the fisherman as they greeted each other.
“How goes it, young lord?” he asked in a voice worn with age, perfectly suiting the body from which it came.
The fisherman grinned. “It goes well, revered elder. The stock is great and the bounty plentiful. You will be able to take a great deal with you this season.”
“So we have seen,” the old man observed, turning to the pool. “And, it seems you have caught us more than fish this time, young one.”
Unaware that the old man meant what he said in any other way than a predator who had just caught his prey, Zya immediately went on the defensive. “You cannot hold us against our will, I won't let you.”
The old man looked surprised for an instant, and then let out a low chuckle. “Young lady, if I meant to hold you against your will, do you think that you could possibly escape? Look around you.” Zya did as she was asked and realised grimly that the old man was right – with the sheer number of people around her, she knew that escape was near impossible from a situation such as this. “From what your father has told me, escape shouldn't really be on your mind anyway. If it pleases you, my dear, we are allowing you to join us on our journey.” There was something in his voice, a catch, maybe an inflexion. Also in his stance as she watched him there was something familiar about the man. She looked over at the fisherman. The permanent semi-grin of amusement was there too. Zya realised that they were related, but chose to let her discovery of that remain silent.
Relaxing, knowing that her father had talked them round, she replied to the old man. “We would be honoured if we could.” Ju looked less than enthusiastic, but when he saw a litter of puppies, recently whelped and annoying their mother, he gasped in delight and ran off to make new friends.
“Well so much for your brother,” the fisherman said as he watched Ju become tangled within a pile of small dogs. “How about helping me land a few more of these fish?” Zya joined the fisherman by the pool and they were quickly joined by several of the tribesmen, women and children. All were equipped with rods, and a few had extras. These were quickly passed around to all those without one. Simply made, they were not much more than reinforced branches with cord attached and a hook on the end, but they proved effective as the fish went crazy, jumping for anything that glittered near them.
Within moments the bank was as thick as the water with the thrashing silvery bodies, and yet there seemed to be as many in the water as there had before. The fisherman was relishing the event, and Zya could not help but smile at his enthusiasm. She was managing to land the odd fish herself, but with nowhere near the success of everybody else. Amidst the organised turmoil, and between breaths, she managed to get an observation in. “Why don't you use a net? Surely it would be a lot easier to catch the fish that way.”
As he landed a fish that was too immense to be called huge, the fisherman pointed at the others. “Look at their faces, Zya. They love this. To use a net would take away a small amount of joy in a world that contains so much misery.”
Zya looked around. It was
true; the childrens' faces were alight with excitement, their mothers encouraging them proudly. The men were laughing broadly and comparing catches as they did so. “I see what you mean,” she replied, concentrating on dangling her rod amongst the thrashing turmoil in the pool. “It is amazing that so much pleasure can be got from an event so small and so rare.”
“Why do you think they are enjoying it so much? They are the chosen few who have been selected for this honour. This is the one time in the four seasons that this happens. Normally, it is a few of the tribe who ferry the fish to wherever the tribe is. It is not very often that the bulk of the tribe reaches this spot. They will get as much enjoyment out of this as they can. It is the one time they can let their guard down and be who they truly are – a free people in a land that sometimes offers plenty.”
The manic fishing event continued, with others replacing those who had started. Zya soon tired, and seeing this, the fisherman relented their spots to a couple and their young child, who were grateful for the chance. There was much more to this than the catching, Zya noticed as they walked away from the pool. Those who caught the fish were but one link in the chain. Although she had not wondered initially about the piles of fish, later on she could not figure out why the piles didn't grow much despite all the fish being landed until she noticed that they were being carried by children to several cook fires where a huddle of old women were waiting. They were gutting the fish and preparing them in all manner of ways. “They are not cooking them all now are they?” she asked of the fisherman.
The Focus Stone (The Tome of Law Book 1) Page 33