‘You’ll have to wait,’ Nip said. ‘He’s busy. Sit down. What’s your name?’
Nip appeared to be an almost unnaturally open person. In no time at all, she had told Shan a great deal about herself, while displaying not the slightest curiosity about him. Shan kept quiet, eyeing the vast tree nearby and wondering whether Thremius would make an appearance in a puff of smoke. Nip was a gamine creature, with a pixielike mien, her hair hacked short and sticking up in rather greasy spikes. Shan couldn’t decide whether she was pretty or not. Taropat had told him Nip was close to his own age, but then Taropat had probably forgotten how only two years’ difference might as well be a decade to people in their teens. It was clear from the outset that Nip considered Shan to be a mere child in sore need of education. She dressed like a boy, in ragged trousers rolled up to the knees, a grubby oversized shirt, and scorned girlish pastimes, yet she was quite sure she would be a witch when she was older, which to Shan seemed an essentially feminine career. It would be easy for her to work magic, she said, because she was not quite human.
‘Not human in what way?’ Shan enquired, involuntarily wrinkling his nose.
‘My grandfather was an eld,’ she announced with due reverence.
‘How do you know?’
‘My grandmother got lost in the wood one day, and even though everyone looked for her, she was nowhere to be found. She returned some months later and was heavy with child. She could remember nothing of what had happened to her. My family drew their own conclusions.’
Shan could think of infinitely more mundane explanations for this event, but held his tongue.
Then Master Thremius came grumbling out of the tree and laid about him with his staff. Nip clawed her way swiftly up the gnarled trunk, while Shan froze. Gust flapped off in the direction of home, clearly intent on avoiding the old magus.
‘Brats,’ said Master Thremius and eyed Shan from his huge height with a less than tolerant expression.
Thremius looked more like a wizard than Taropat did. He had a long beard and hair, which were probably greyish white under normal circumstances, but had been dyed by the juices of root and stem into a dirty green colour.
‘What are you here for?’ he demanded.
‘Taropat sent me,’ Shan replied, adding, ‘Sir.’
‘I don’t want any more brats,’ said the magus, ‘be off with you.’ He went back inside the tree.
Shan looked up into the spreading branches and saw a brown face grinning down.
Presently, Nip dropped onto the grass beside him. ‘Let’s go hunting,’ she said and without waiting for a response, set off down a dark and tangled path behind the old tree.
‘What are we hunting?’ Shan asked, catching up.
‘Basilisk,’ replied Nip. ‘I hunt nothing else.’
‘What is a basilisk?’
‘You’ll know when you see one,’ Nip said. ‘Don’t tromp along so loudly. They’ll hear us.’
Shan wondered what he was doing following this strange girl. Taropat had sent him to Master Thremius to learn, even though Shan had no idea what that education might entail. He supposed it was the way of magical men. They liked to confuse you. Still, Thremius clearly had no intention of doing any kind of educating. Perhaps Shan should go back to the narrow house now, find Taropat and explain. He couldn’t quite bring himself to suggest this to Nip, however.
Presently, they came to a glade in the wood that had a horrid furtive ambience and a brown stain in the middle where the grass didn’t grow. Shan shivered. He sensed watching eyes. Birds did not shun the place but those that did rustle the high branches uttered calls like spiteful children. Nip prowled around the edge of this natural circle, occasionally sniffing the air. Perhaps this was the haunt of basilisks. It seemed to Shan as if the sun was suddenly much lower in the sky and the shadows of the trees were hungrier. He wanted to leave but lacked the courage to say so.
‘Ssh!’ commanded Nip.
Shan neither breathed nor spoke.
Nip stood straight, hands on hips. ‘Yes, they were here again last night. I can always tell.’
‘Who?’ Shan murmured.
‘Elden,’ Nip said. ‘They know I look for them, but they are capricious. They hide. No doubt my grandmother lay with an eld of great status. They resent me for that.’
The mood in the glade was broken. Shan crossed the dark stain. ‘I thought we were looking for basilisks.’
‘We are. You just walked across the spoor. Elden roast basilisk. It is the rarest most delicate meat. They will have been hunting here, like me.’
‘What does a basilisk look like?’
‘That depends,’ said Nip. ‘They can look like bristling hogs, a thorny bush or a bird whose feathers are made of claws. They are kin to the snake and the vulture.’
‘Have you ever seen one?’
She hesitated. ‘I will, one day.’
‘Are they dangerous?’
‘Sometimes. They are timid, mostly.’ Nip grinned rather cruelly. ‘Haven’t you learned anything living with the renowned Taropat?’
‘I haven’t lived with him long,’ Shan said. ‘He hasn’t taught me much yet exceptc’ He couldn’t speak.
‘What?’ Nip’s voice was softer. She clearly detected a sorrow.
Shan shrugged. ‘My family is dead. Taropat took me away. It was when the Magravands came.’
Nip nodded. ‘Oh yes. I know of that.’ She put an arm around Shan’s shoulder and he could smell her scent of sweat and leaves. ‘But we’re safe here, very safe. This forest is like a special temple. No Magravands could breach it. It would separate them, confuse them, devour them. They are creatures of fire because they worship the god Madragore. Doesn’t earth contain and smother fire?’
Shan laughed shakily. ‘I hope so.’
‘But it is true! We have the potential to be far more dangerous than soldiers.’
‘Through magic?’
Nip uttered a scornful sound. ‘Magic! Is that what you call it? It is the true temperament of the world, that’s all, the true science, the true will of nature.’
Shan could tell these ideas were not Nip’s own. ‘Did Master Thremius teach you that?’
‘It was the first thing he taught me.’
Shan sighed. ‘Now I have to report to Taropat that the master will have nothing to do with me.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know. He hit me with a stick and told me to clear off. I’ve learned nothing.’
Nip’s laugh was a wild free sound that filled the glade. ‘You ninny! Are you really that stupid? You’ve already learned a lot.’
‘Like what?’
Nip pulled a ridiculous, wild-eyed face at him. ‘Basilisks? Magic? What an air brain you are!’
‘You reckon you’ve been teaching me?’
‘Well, who taught me?’
‘I don’t think that was what Taropat had in mind.’
‘You mean you don’t think my knowledge, which I’ve learned from Thremius, is as valid as the words coming from his own mouth.’ She laughed again. ‘You have so much to learn, village boy!’
Nip was obviously very proud of her knowledge, and Shan had no doubt that she knew far more than he did, but wasn’t there a higher source? Nip was young, as he was. One thing Shan was wise enough to be aware of was that he had limited experience, simply because he was young. His father had once said to him that knowledge came from experience. This was when one of their goats had become ill. Shan had panicked, unable to help, but Hod had known what the problem was right away. Why? Because he’d seen and dealt with it before. Nip didn’t see it like that. She thought she knew everything.
As they walked back through the forest, Nip chattering all the time, Shan wondered about what he’d learned from the devastation of Holme. Could he deal with a situation like that if it should happen again? He could run away sooner, maybe, or be more alert for danger. He shouldn’t take security and peace for granted. Was that knowledge or simply fear? Shan
was confused. Perhaps Taropat would discuss it with him, although he doubted the possibility.
‘You must come again tomorrow,’ Nip said, once they’d reached the hollow tree again.
‘So you can teach me?’ Shan asked archly.
Nip ignored the tone of this remark. ‘Have you got anything better to do?’
‘I’ll talk to Taropat.’
‘He’ll tell you,’ Nip said. ‘You’d best get home. An innocent like you should not be alone in this part of the forest after dark.’
Shan stared at her for a moment. ‘I’m not as innocent as you think,’ he said.
Nip had the grace to look away. ‘It was fun today. I get bored on my own sometimes. See you tomorrow.’ She went into the tree and Shan heard a low voice mumble a rebuke. Master Thremius no doubt.
Back at the narrow house, Taropat had dinner ready. ‘Well?’ he asked, the moment Shan came in through the door.
With some embarrassment, Shan described his day.
Taropat only nodded. ‘Thremius will do what he thinks best. Go along with the girl. It can’t do any harm. You can maybe teach her too.’
‘You don’t understand,’ Shan said. ‘Thremius wants nothing to do with me. If Nip is to be my teacher, my education will be long. She doesn’t know that much more than me.’
Taropat laughed. ‘Thremius is being clever, that’s all. He’s not a bad old goat at heart.’
‘But what am I supposed to be learning? How to hunt for basilisks?’
Taropat became still, and for a moment Shan saw the most unspeakable expression of grief in his eyes. ‘You are learning about yourself,’ he said. ‘Such knowledge can defend you better than a sword or armour. Such knowledge gives you arrows of the mind. It is the most important thing.’
That night, Shan awoke to a sound. He thought at first that Taropat was chanting again. The sound reverberated through the whole fabric of the house, shook it on a level that was almost beyond human perception. It was the sound of weeping. Shan lay in his bed, utterly chilled. That sound contained all the fear in the world, all the misery. Was it the sound of the magician’s self-knowledge?
Chapter Four: Tale of the Dragon Lord
Shan returned to the hollow tree shortly after sun-rise. Taropat had not been evident that morning, but Gust had been hanging around the kitchen making odd mooing sounds. Shan had suggested the grim should accompany him again. Now the creature rustled the undergrowth some yards from where Shan stood, looking at Thremius’ tree house.
‘Hello?’ Shan called.
Silence reigned. Birds were motionless in the branches above. A sense of abandonment pervaded the scene. Shan was torn between going to investigate the innards of the tree and returning to the mill house. He walked around the glade, gazing up at the fantastically gnarled bark. The tree was so ancient it seemed sentient, watchful. Shan touched the trunk. A growling sound erupted behind him. He turned to see Master Thremius rushing out of his house, brandishing his staff. His eyes seemed to spit flames. Shan shrank away in terror.
‘Still here?’ snapped Thremius. His staff whistled close to Shan’s ear.
At that moment, Gust erupted, flapping, from a nearby stand of thorns, uttering outraged screams. Thremius adjusted his aim and beat at the grim in fury. Shan called out to Gust, thinking they should both flee the place as quickly as possible, but then Nip came sauntering down one of the forest paths, sucking nonchalantly on the stem of a flower. She smiled a little when she saw what was happening and clapped her hands. Thremius paused in his attack. ‘Ah, there you are, girl,’ he said. ‘What is the assumption today?’
Nip put her hands in her pockets and came to a halt before her teacher. ‘That we can assume nothing,’ she replied. ‘We should live in a state of constant wonder.’
Thremius’ heavy brows beetled together. ‘A simplification,’ he announced. ‘I have ordered this whelp from my presence, yet he remains. I can only assume he is a numskull.’
‘He is just persistent,’ Nip said. ‘You should be flattered.’
Thremius bared his teeth at Shan and went back into the tree.
Shan was in a state of shock. He could only stare at Nip. Gust still appeared to believe he was under attack because he was fighting air ten feet above the ground. Nip looked up and whistled. Did the air shimmer? Gust calmed himself and alighted beside Shan, purring in concern.
‘Ready for a walk?’ Nip said.
They went to a place where small hard fruit grew on low spindly trees. The forest felt different there, more approachable. The colours of the foliage were predominantly strange bluish-greens. Nip did not comment on what had taken place at Thremius’ glade and Shan, for some reason, could not bear to question her about it. He felt peculiarly shamed. Nip made soothing noises and balmed a graze on the grim’s shoulder with spit on her finger. Gust had sprung to Shan’s defence. He had taken wounds.
‘Taropat wept in his bed last night,’ Shan said, unsure what had impelled him to reveal such a thing.
Nip raised her eyebrows. ‘He is a puzzlement,’ she said, putting her finger back into her mouth. She applied another ointment of saliva to the grim, who squatted motionless before her. ‘I think he’s a fabulously handsome man, one who I could fall in love with, yet at the same time he does not seem like a man at all. I’m quite sure he’d never love me back. I like going to his house on Thremius’ errands, just so I can look at him, but he’s never noticed me.’
Shan felt he ought to offer some sympathetic remark. ‘Perhaps he doesn’t notice anyone in that way.’
‘Mmm,’ said Nip. ‘Thremius won’t tell me much, no matter how hard I pester him, but once he did tell me that Taropat carries a wound in his heart that has gone quite black.’
‘I think so too. Sometimes you can see it in his eyes.’
Nip nodded. She seemed overly concerned with the grim, who to Shan did not appear that badly hurt.
After a pause, Shan said, ‘Do you know why Taropat brought me here? Has he spoken to Thremius about it?’
Nip flicked him a glance. ‘One magus is not required to inform another why he takes an apprentice.’
‘It’s not only that,’ Shan said. He wondered whether he should tell Nip everything, but perhaps that would be unwise. He didn’t know her.
Nip frowned and knotted her hands in her lap. ‘Thremius has said only that Taropat wants a weapon against the Magravands. Maybe that’s you.’
‘Me? It’s ridiculous. It’s ridiculous to think that any one person could be that.’
Nip shrugged. ‘Perhaps. But everyone has to do what they feel is right in life. Taropat has personal motivations. I can’t tell you what they are, because even if Thremius knows, he hasn’t let it slip to me.’
‘Don’t you think I should know?’
‘Yes. Probably. But that is up to Taropat.’ She leaned forward. ‘And yourself, of course. You are a willing conspirator in his dreams. Understandably. He offered you sanctuary when you sorely needed it. He wants to train you for a purpose, this is clear. And if you go along with that, without knowing all the facts, that is the fault of your silence rather than Taropat’s secrecy, surely?’
Shan felt glum. ‘I don’t think he’d tell me anything if I asked. Taropat and Thremius aren’t like ordinary men.’ He reflected for a moment on how Nip seemed to exert a certain measure of control over her cantankerous mentor. ‘How was it between you and Thremius when you first went to him?’
Nip smiled. ‘I was confused for over a year, convinced I was stuck inside a particularly horrible nightmare. Thremius was a monster, in all senses. Sometimes he didn’t even look human.’
‘Why is he like that if he wants to pass his knowledge on?’
‘Perhaps he’s resentful of that need. He’s an insular creature, yet is aware his knowledge is too great to die with him. My mere presence reminds him he is mortal, although I expect he will live the equivalent of four lifetimes before he finally succumbs to death.’ She laughed. ‘He cannot always practi
ce what he preaches. That is the unfortunate nature of knowledge. It is better to learn than to know, because even when you know, you cannot always live by it.’ She patted Gust’s shoulder, who purred and rubbed his scaly cheek against her hand. ‘A creature like this has more chance of being himself than you or I. We are imperfect creatures, the hybrid offspring of gods and humans, or so Thremius told me. We have the aspirations of the divine, yet the instincts of beasts. It is why we are always fighting each other and ourselves.’
‘I saw nothing divine in the Magravands.’
Nip shook her head. ‘But you are wrong. They are creatures of the great god called Madragore.’ She lay down on her stomach before him, her chin cupped by her hands, her legs kicking the air behind her. ‘I can tell you what I know. The Magravands are ruled by a sun king, an emperor, whose name is Leonid Malagash. He has many sons, who are all rivals, and a dragon lord, called Valraven Palindrake, leads his armies. This Palindrake is supposed to be a very handsome man, though of course I have never seen him myself. He is married to an imperial princess, Leonid’s only daughter, and is said to be a lover of Prince Bayard the Golden, one of the emperor’s sons. He comes from a magical land called Caradore. There is a wonderful legend attached to it. Palindrake is a singular creature.’
‘You sound as if you approve of him,’ Shan interrupted. ‘How can you? He must have led the army that killed my people. My father was gored to death by a war beast. All the men were slaughtered, the women violated. I don’t even know what happened to my aunt. I wasc’ He shook his head, close to tears, choking on the remembered stench of leather and sweat.
Nip reached out quickly to touch Shan in reassurance. ‘Oh, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m really sorry. I’m stupid sometimes, insensitive, perhaps too much like Thremius.’
Shan rubbed his eyes, embarrassed. ‘It’s all right.’
Nip hesitated, then pressed on. ‘Let me tell you about Caradore. Can I?’
Shan nodded.
‘Hundreds of years ago, the Palindrake family communed with the sea dragons, who live in caves around the coast. They were heirs to a great heritage, and magic ran in their veins. But then, Caradore was conquered by Magravandias. The Magravands knew they could never control the world unless the land of the sea dragons was firmly under their control. The dragon heir, the first Valraven, who was only a boy at the time, was forced to make allegiance with the empire, and one of his sisters was married to a son of the emperor. The Magravand magi used their arts to make him do as they decreed. He was only a boy, poor thing, but through his action, the link with the sea dragons was lost to the Palindrakes. Caradore was put in chains. Isn’t that terrible? Every firstborn male of the Palindrake family has been named Valraven ever since, probably as a reminder. A gruesome mixture of shame, anger, resentment and sorrow must flavour their lives. Imagine it!’
Crown of Silence Page 4