He decided to wait for Nikolus’ return before inspecting the new town down the valley, so he and Ka’en spent the afternoon walking the ruined gardens outside the walls, and watching the deer and the horses graze quietly. He showed Ka’en a dove that sat as still as death in the low branch of an apple tree as they passed carefully beneath her nest. She marveled at the myriad of life that filled the valley, rabbits, and squirrels, and birds of all kinds.
Findaen and the others did not return that afternoon, but just as they were walking back toward the walls of the city in the slanted light of evening, Alvern swooped down out of the sky and lit on the avenue. He bobbed his head in the direction of the river. “The wolves have returned, my lord.”
Surprised, Aram looked out the avenue; Leorg had departed on his mission only the day before. Three wolves came toward them, one gray and two black; one of the black wolves was a massive beast – Durlrang, chief of the wolves of the north, and Leorg’s uncle; the others were Leorg and Gorfang. The great wolf came up to Aram, bowed his head over and touched his forehead to the earth. Then he looked up and met Aram’s eyes.
“You summoned me, master; here I am.”
“You came quickly.”
“I was hunting the pine hills north of the pass. Leorg found me last night.”
Aram knelt and placed a hand on the wolf ’s neck. “I am very glad to see you, my friend.” He indicated Ka’en. “This is the woman who will be my mate, Lord Durlrang. Her name is Ka’en.”
Durlrang looked at her and bowed again. “It is an honor to meet you, Mistress Ka’en.”
Aram looked into the wolf ’s deep black eyes. “I need a favor.”
“Speak it and it will be done, master.”
“I would like to have you closer.”
Durlrang angled his great, shaggy head slightly and gazed at Aram in puzzlement, trying to fathom the statement. “Closer to what, my lord?”
Aram smiled. “To me.”
Durlrang glanced at Leorg and then back at Aram. “You wish me to move here, to your valley, master? There are already wolves here.”
“Actually, I wondered if you would be interested in moving into the green hills south of the rivers.” Aram stood up and looked southward himself, at the green slopes rising beyond the southern borders of his valley. “Have you ever been in those hills, my friend?”
Durlrang bent his gaze southward as well. “No, master, never.” After a moment he looked up at Aram. “They have a pleasant appearance, and I will go where you send me – but my people are used to the rugged high mountains. May I ask why you desire this thing?”
“I already told you, my friend, I want you closer.” Aram sat down on a broken wall of a ruined garden, pulling Ka’en down next to him. He rubbed his hand on his bearded chin as he studied the wolf. “Is there someone among your people that you trust to govern in your absence?”
Durlrang answered immediately. “I have a son – Goreg, eldest and first child of my mate, Reuning, who died thirty-five winters ago. He it is that will rule our people someday when I have gone to my long home. What is it that you wish, master?”
Aram frowned at him. “I did not know that your mate had died, Durlrang. I am sorry.”
“That was the most difficult of winters, my lord. Many died.”
Aram was quiet a moment, gazing down across the valley. Then he nodded. “Your son, Goreg, would you trust him to govern now – if it became necessary?”
“I would.”
“Good.” Aram nodded again. “I want you to consider something, my friend – it is a request, not an order.”
“Masters do not make requests of their servants, Lord Aram. They command and obedience follows.”
Aram looked at the wolf narrowly. “This master does make requests, my friend, and it will not change. You have been on the earth far longer than I, Durlrang, and you are a great lord of your people. I want your counsel and your friendship, not blind obedience.”
The wolf gazed back at him for a long time, his expression unreadable. “My friendship and gratitude you have ever, Lord Aram. What do you wish?”
“How many of your people are there, Durlrang?”
“One hundred and forty adults.”
“I would like you to consider bringing some of them, fifty or so, and moving into those green hills. You would be close to me, and I will need your eyes and ears to watch for the movements of my enemies.”
“We will come at once.”
“It is a request, Durlrang.”
The wolf inclined his head once and turned to gaze southward. “It looks like a pleasant land with plenty of prey.”
Aram nodded. “Those woods are full of deer and rabbits; and there is water. There are no other wolves in that country. It would be yours forever.”
Durlrang looked back at him. “And we would be your eyes and ears?”
“Yes. If you will do this.”
The wolf turned to face him. “Leorg says that you are going to war against the grim lord, master.”
“This is so – I am.”
“My people will fight for you, master. I, myself, will die for you.”
Aram gazed at him in silence for a moment. “Fight you must, my friend, and die you may – but do it for yourself and your people, not for me.”
Durlrang’s eyes grew troubled at this. “You do not understand, Lord Aram. My people must have a master. We must answer to someone higher than ourselves. It is the way we were made by the Maker of old. It cannot be changed. I thought you knew this.”
Frowning, Aram shook his head. “I did not.”
The wolf looked away, out across the valley. “It is the reason why, when Lord Kelven left the earth, that our people fell so easily under the control of your enemy, the grim lord.” When his gaze came back to Aram, there was a fierce sincerity in it. “We must be governed. This is a thing that cannot be altered.”
Aram considered him for a moment and then nodded. “Since that is the way things are, my friend; I would like it very much if you would bring fifty of your people into the green hills south of the river to live, where I can have the advantage of your counsel whenever I wish it. You may leave your son, Goreg, in charge of those you leave behind. Agreed?”
Durlrang inclined his head; the troubled look vanished from his eyes. He bowed his forehead over to the ground. “I will go at once, master, and return within days.”
Aram glanced over at the sun, just now resting atop the great black mountain. “The day will end soon, my friend. Wouldn’t you rather rest tonight and go on the morrow?”
Durlrang made a low rumble in his throat that sounded as if it might pass for laughter. “I do not tire easily, my lord, and night means nothing to a wolf.”
Aram smiled. “It’s a good thing to know – I will remember it. Go then, my friend, and come straight into the green hills when you return. I am leaving in a few days myself – I will await you in the town of Derosa, on the eastern side of the plains that are to the south of the hills. I will warn the people of your coming, but they will still fear you, so I will ask Alvern to tell me of your arrival in that country. When you come, step out of the woods onto the open plain for a moment so that the keeper of the gate may see you and inform me of your presence and I will come out to you.”
“Very good, master. With your permission, I will go with Leorg and sup by the river, and go over the mountain after sunset.”
Aram stood. “Go well then, my friend, until we meet again.”
After the wolves left, Aram and Ka’en went in to supper, spending another pleasant evening visiting with the men of Derosa. Later, they walked on the great porch, enjoying the brisk spring evening. Aram found that it was becoming extremely difficult for him to part from her each night and sleep in a separate place. He realized that to avoid endangering her virtue, as she described it, they must go to Derosa soon, where a proper distance could be maintained between them. He was reaching the point where he no longer trusted his restraint.
; He and Ka’en rode Thaniel and Huram down the valley the next morning to check on the progress of the villagers he had brought over the mountains. The town he’d given them was the southernmost of the ancient towns and had been in the best shape of all the ruins. It was in much better shape now.
Nikolus had not wasted his time. Several of the structures were being rebuilt and roofs were being added to them. The main thoroughfares of the town, crossing each other at right angles at the town’s center had been mostly cleared of the detritus of centuries. Where the brush and trees had invaded the living spaces, they were being pushed back.
All around the town, but especially between it and the river to the east, small fields were being prepared. Some fields had already been sown with wheat, potatoes, and squash, and the low ground toward the river with milcush, but not all; and some were not yet turned. This concerned Aram, for planting time was fast passing by, and he mentioned it to Oskus, who’d been left in charge when Nikolus and Timmon went to Derosa.
The stout, serious man nodded in agreement. “It is getting a bit late in the year, Lord Aram, but we are nearly out of seed anyway.” He pointed the other way across the town to the west. “There is an orchard on the other side, and we are tending it. It may produce something by the fall.”
Aram frowned at the scattered patches of dark earth. They seemed small – and few. “Will there be enough food produced for all the people?”
Oskus looked pensively out across the fields. “It will be a close thing, my lord, even if every field yields its fullness.”
“Is it too late for planting wheat, do you think?”
“No, my lord, wheat will ripen even into the late frosts.”
Aram nodded. “There is seed in the granary of the city. I will bring it to you at once.”
Oskus looked up at him with his small eyes wide. “There is no need for you to involve yourself in such a menial task, my lord. I will come myself to fetch it and bring some of the other men.”
“Nonsense.” Aram shook his head. “Thaniel and I will be faster. You will have the seed within an hour or so.”
He and Ka’en returned to the city and he gathered his remaining seed, perhaps a hundred pounds, enough to sow several acres. Taking it back down the valley, he delivered it to Oskus, who began at once to distribute it. Then Aram and Ka’en went back to his city, angling their route to pass along the flank of the mountain, stopping to check on Willet and Cree – Cree being overjoyed to see Ka’en, who, it seemed clear to Aram, was held in much higher regard than himself by the hawk.
Findaen, Nikolus, and Timmon arrived back in the valley late in the afternoon with enough rope to secure the weapons for transport to Derosa. Jonwood, Mallet, and Wamlak had cut and stacked poles on the avenue before the walls as per Timmon’s instructions.
During supper, Timmon talked excitedly of Derosa and its inhabitants, informing Aram of its pleasant environs as if Aram himself had never witnessed them.
“It’s as fine a town as Craun in the land of Aniza, Lord Aram, where me and Nikolus are from – though not as large. And neat, well laid out. Good people, too, for the most part.”
Aram simply smiled and let the man talk. Nikolus seemed quiet and distracted, barely touching his food, and gazing off into space. Finally, Aram spoke to him, inquiring as to his thoughts, at which the young man flushed and stammered an unintelligible reply, apparently embarrassed.
Aram’s eyebrows went up and he glanced at Findaen.
Findaen grinned back. “It seems, my lord, that you are not the only man who finds the daughters of Lancer interesting.”
“Fin!” Ka’en admonished. “You shouldn’t be so familiar. And don’t make jests.”
Findaen shrugged and continued eating. “I’m just answering the question that was asked of me. I can’t help it that Jena’s smile turns the man to mush.”
“Fin!”
Nikolus didn’t look up, but he grinned, red-faced, in acknowledgement of a truth spoken in jest and Aram turned the conversation to other topics.
The next day was spent carrying the weapons and crates out of the armory, stacking them next to the poles and rope, and fine-tuning the details of Timmon’s transport plan. By evening, everything was ready, and Aram instructed Thaniel and Huram to be at the city early on the next morning with enough horses to carry the load to Derosa. Even if no horse was laden too heavily, Aram knew that they would need to leave for Derosa by noon in order to make it to the town before nightfall.
Again that night, Aram found it difficult to part from Ka’en, and though he loved the time they’d spent together, he was almost glad that they would go to Derosa on the morrow and his time would be somewhat occupied by other things. His longing for her and his desire to be with her grew daily; the situation was rapidly becoming untenable.
By noon on the next day they were ready to leave, the weapons being secured to the backs of twenty willing horses. Aram also bundled his black steel armor and Thaniel’s armor to be transported to Derosa with the hope of using both for templates. Then he packed a few personal things, including the sacks of money onto Thaniel’s broad back. Huram would bear Ka’en and her things. Jonwood agreed to ride a horse named Colrad, while Wamlak would ride another named Braska. After much cajoling, Mallet was finally convinced to make the journey borne by a large dark gray horse named Markris.
After they were ready to leave, Nikolus came up and stood quietly to the side until Aram noticed him.
“You said that I could come with you, my lord?”
“I did.”
“Timmon would like to come, too.”
Aram frowned at him. “Who will be left in charge of the new town? Oskus and Flinneran?”
“Not Flinneran.” Nikolus said sharply, and then hesitated. “Oskus will handle things there – by your leave, my lord.”
Aram waited but Nikolus did not expand on his statement, so he decided not to pursue the reasons for the man’s sharp answer. “Oskus seems like a good choice. Can he handle things if – things come up?”
Nikolus nodded. “He is a strong and intelligent man, my lord, and calm and reasonable.”
“Then he is a good choice. And I will be glad to have Timmon’s cleverness at hand.”
After Nikolus turned away, Aram called with his mind; a few moments later, Leorg trotted up the avenue. Aram knelt down in front of the clever gray wolf. “I leave this valley in your care, Leorg. I must know immediately if there is trouble of any kind.”
The wolf gazed at him for a moment. “In my care, master?”
“Yes.”
“But there will be men here when you go.”
Aram shook his head. “None that I trust as much as I trust you.”
Leorg sat back on his haunches and Aram saw astonishment in his eyes. “It is true what they say of you, master; you are changing the world.”
“I just want the valley to be secure.”
“I promise, master, that you will know anything that you need to know the moment it happens. I will come to you myself or send Gorfang.” The wolf was quiet a moment before continuing. “He is fond of Mistress Ka’en.”
“Well, who isn’t?” Aram stood. “That will suffice. If you need me to return quickly, inform the hawks – they will send the falcon to me, or Lord Alvern may be available. Thank you, Leorg. Stay safe.”
“Go well, master.”
The long train, followed by the entire host of more than eight hundred horses, went down the road to the crossings, passed over the twin rivers, and wound through the green hills, through the forests to the west of the old, ruined road, finally traversing the long ridge that led almost directly southward toward the plains. They reached the plains in front of Derosa while the sun was yet an hour in the sky. Mallet was the first to approach the gate.
“Look!” He yelled up to the guard on the wall. “I’m riding a horse!”
“Yes – I see. I haven’t gone blind in your absence.” The guard, an older man, and a distant relative of Mallet
, answered with humor, but his weathered face nonetheless bore an expression of amazement as the gate swung open to admit the astonishing caravan.
They stopped at the training grounds southwest of the town. Ka’en dismounted and went on to her father’s house to see that supper would be waiting when they finished relieving the horses of their burdens. By dark, they had unloaded all the weaponry, stacking it on the grass of the training field and had released the horses to graze on the plains to the west outside the gate.
Findaen put Aram in his old room so that he could get clean and put on fresh clothes; a half-hour later, he collected him and the others and they went down to supper in Lancer’s dining hall.
The tall, gray-haired, aristocratic man stood behind the table waiting for them, flanked by his daughters.
Lancer inclined his head. “Lord Aram, I am very pleased to see you again.”
Aram bowed in return. “My lord.”
Lancer glanced at Ka’en. “I have been made to understand that you and I have things which we must discuss in private.”
Aram looked at Ka’en as well. She was dressed in her dark red gown, and was so beautiful that it made him feel weak looking at her. She smiled, holding his gaze for a moment. He returned her smile, feeling for one small moment as shy as when he’d first met her – long ago, in this same room – and then he looked back at Lancer and nodded. “If it pleases you, my lord.”
“It does, indeed.” Lancer answered and indicated the spread table. “Let us partake, my friends.”
Aram had wanted a bit of distance between himself and Ka’en, in order to ease his growing urge to be with her, but as the evening went on he found that the presence of her father and the other citizens of Derosa in the unfamiliar environs of the brightly lit hall put too much distance between them, making him feel almost a stranger. He tried several times to speak to her, but others wanted his time, and he could contrive of nothing about which to make conversation anyway. As the evening wore on, his sense of frustration grew.
Kelven's Riddle Book Two Page 29