Dannel smiled. “Now, let’s finish our suppers. Successful business deals make me hungry.” It was one of the few true statements he had made that evening.
It’s perfect, he reflected as he took another bite of the savory chicken stew. This poor terrified fool will do all my legwork for me, and I’ll have only to visit whatever cave he finds later to ensure it would really make a good hideout. If it does, I’ll just have one person to kill to keep it a secret. Satisfied, Dannel smiled pleasantly across the table at his companion once again. Trayven, his face full of relief, picked up his fork and smiled back.
Chapter 8
“Which way are we going today?” Ernth asked as they took down their tents, trying to sound as though he didn’t care.
Grandfather looked up from loading his horse, Dehydrated. “I think we’ll follow the river down the valley and then go southeast around the shoulder of the slope there. An easy day’s journey in that direction will take us to a valley where I remember there was a lot of lumjum last year. We could camp there for several days.”
Exactly what I was afraid you would say. “I’d rather go a different way,” Ernth protested. “Can we vote?”
Uncle Korth glanced over from where he was securing his own pack. “Do you know a better route?”
“We could go upstream instead of down,” suggested Ernth, knowing even as he said it that no one would be convinced.
“Have you been that way before?” Grandfather wondered. “Is there something better in that direction?”
Reluctantly, Ernth shook his head. “I don’t know. I just don’t want to go where you’re suggesting.” He fiddled with a strand of Hungry’s mane, wishing he didn’t have to talk about it. “That way is – it’s the place where –”
From behind him, Mother set a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “It’s where that Lowlander incident happened the year you were with Otchen’s family, isn’t it?”
Ernth nodded, poking with his toe at a clump of grass. He could tell the others were all looking at him, but he didn’t want to meet their eyes.
“We won’t go near the Lowlander village,” Grandfather told him gently. “But it’s a good valley, and plenty big enough to stay far away from where they live.”
They voted, but only Mother took Ernth’s side. Without an alternate plan, nobody saw a valid reason not to follow Grandfather’s route.
All day Ernth traveled in silence, his mind far away from the grassy slopes they hiked across and the majestic peaks rising on every side. That year started off so well. Everything was perfect. And then the Lowlanders had shattered his dreams. He thrust one hand into his pocket and wrapped his fingers around his wad of trash. I’ll always hate them for that.
The Prince of Malorn walked nearby, and several times Ernth got the feeling he was watching him. But he refused to look at the Lowlander. Your people ruined my life. I hate you, all of you.
Of course, Lowlanders had given his family some useful gifts a few days ago, a fact which Ernth was still struggling to make sense of. But even an inexplicable act of generosity couldn’t change what he already knew to be true. Could it?
In any case, Ernth grew gloomier every step of the way, until finally in the late afternoon they stopped in a meadow near the bottom of the wide, shallow valley that he remembered so well. This was a beautiful area. An area he had hoped never to revisit. True, it was at the opposite end of the valley, but as far as Ernth was concerned, that was still far too close.
They unloaded the horses and milked the goats, but while the others gathered firewood and prepared supper, Ernth slipped away. He knew he should have stayed to help, but nobody stopped him when he called Hungry over and vaulted onto her back.
He didn’t really want to go; didn’t want to stand by himself in front of the little memorial that made him feel so alone anyway. But somehow he couldn’t be in this area, camp this close, and not go over to see.
At least he wouldn’t be completely alone, though. He was grateful for Hungry’s companionship. Ernth reached down and patted her neck as he rode. “I hate Lowlanders,” he confided, and the horse nickered in sympathy. She understood.
The little heap of stones still stood at the other end of the valley, just as he remembered. He slid off of the horse’s back and stood staring down at it in the light of the setting sun, his throat tight as the memories came surging back. Crouching for a closer look, he found the flat rock where he had scratched the simple figures with the point of his knife: thin, straight lines that laid out the story of murder and theft and shattered dreams. He was no artist, but the pictures were clear enough – or had been before the weather had started to wear them away.
Somehow that seemed the ultimate injustice. Scowling, Ernth pulled his knife out of his pocket and bent over the rock. Carefully, he began to carve over his original lines, making them deeper, more pronounced. Anyone who passed by here needed to know what had happened.
“Is this a grave?”
Ernth leaped to his feet, whirling to glare at the intruder. He had been so focused on his work that he hadn’t heard the Prince of Malorn’s approach. “It’s none of your business!” he snapped.
But Korram knelt down to peer at the stone, examining the drawings. “Your friend’s sister is buried here, isn’t she?”
Ernth was startled. He knows about Jenth? He must have heard the story from one of the others. The fact that a family member had apparently told a Lowlander about something that mattered so deeply to him seemed a betrayal. Ernth turned his back, pressing his lips together in anger and pain.
“No wonder you didn’t want to come this way. I can imagine the memories this valley must hold for you.” Korram seated himself on the grass beside Jenth’s grave. “Will you tell me about what happened?”
Why would I want to talk to you about it? But Korram sounded sympathetic, as though he actually cared, not as though he wanted to scoff. Besides, maybe hearing the story would help him understand why Ernth felt the way he did about Lowlanders. Maybe then Korram would realize that his plan would never work, that no one would ever want to join his army. Maybe then he would finally go away. It was worth a try.
“I was spending the year with friends,” Ernth began, starting to pace back and forth. “After we’ve been Accepted, we can do that, if their family doesn’t mind. Otchen had been Accepted the year before, and his sister Jenth and I both got Accepted that year.”
Korram looked puzzled, and Ernth realized that the Prince of Malorn probably didn’t know about Acceptance. The usual scorn flared up at the thought of the Lowlander’s ignorance, but at the same time, he realized that he had just given away something he hadn’t intended to reveal about mountain life. The Rite of Acceptance was none of Korram’s business. Hastily, Ernth went on before the Lowlander could ask any questions.
“Otchen and Jenth and their brother Rith and I were tending the goats near a Lowlander village. A Lowlander saw us picking apples and started shooting. I was hurt and Jenth was killed.” He clenched his teeth. “Her brothers and I barely escaped with our lives. We couldn’t even take her body with us, and we had to leave the goats behind.”
The words were coming faster now, tumbling over each other. Ernth hadn’t told this story in almost a year, not since the last Mid-Autumn Gathering. It was as though it had been trapped inside him all this time, waiting to be released again.
“We came back that night,” he continued, “but of course the goats were gone. We searched everywhere, but the Lowlanders had stolen them all.” He glanced over to see if Korram understood the significance of this. The Prince of Malorn was nodding as though the story sounded familiar.
“So the family had no more milk,” Korram sympathized, “and no meat to last you through the winter. What a heavy loss that must have been, on top of your grief over Jenth’s death. At least you were eventually able to get her body back.”
Grudgingly, Ernth nodded. “They had left it out where we would find it. Stuffed some of their Lowlander tras
h in her pocket, as if we needed more of an insult.” He shoved his fists into his own pockets, clenching one of them around the crumpled scrap that he kept with him as a reminder of what had happened, of why he hated Lowlanders.
“They put trash in her pocket?” Korram frowned. “What kind of trash?”
Ernth pulled it out and showed it to him.
“That’s parchment,” Korram exclaimed. “It looks as though there’s writing on it. May I see?”
Though he wasn’t sure why the Prince of Malorn was interested in something so worthless and insulting, Ernth tossed it over.
Korram smoothed out the crumples and spread the parchment flat on his knee. “They wrote you a note!”
“What?” Ernth stared at him. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s a message, not an insult.” Korram’s eyes flicked back and forth across the sheet. “The Lowlanders left you a message. The ink is faded, but it’s still legible. See?”
Crouching down beside him, Ernth leaned over to peer at the incomprehensible markings. “What message?”
“I’ll read it to you.” Korram cleared his throat.
“I’m real sorry about the girl. I never meant to kill anyone, but I thought she was going to kill me and I had to defend myself the only way I could. Anyway I’ve took the goats into my shed so they won’t run away. You can get them back but you have to come for them just one of you so I’ll know you aren't going to attack. I don’t want no more trouble and I got my family to think of.”
Ernth’s mind was whirling. “The Lowlander who killed her said that?”
“Apparently.”
“But – but he shot her on purpose! I know he did!”
“Maybe he was just scared,” Korram suggested. “From what he said, it sounds as though he didn’t intend to make a killing shot, but he panicked.”
Ernth stared at him. He felt as though the world he knew was cracking and crumbling around him. “You’re trying to make me think Lowlanders aren’t as bad as they are,” he accused finally. Even he could hear the note of desperation in his voice as he reeled mentally, struggling to find his footing on what was no longer solid ground.
Korram shrugged. “You seem determined to think the worst of them. Anyway, I can’t make you change your mind if you don’t want to. All I was doing was reading you the note. You can decide what it means. But if I were you, I’d go see if I could still reclaim those goats for Otchen and his family.”
The goats. Ernth stared into the distance, remembering. They had nearly starved that winter. Until then, he had never in his life gone without the twice daily servings of milk; had never passed a winter without a supply of dried goat meat. It had been strange huddling around the evening campfires without the goats’ soft bleating; strange not to take them to pasture in the mornings; strange to fall asleep without the comforting smell of them as they sleepily settled down for the night within the circle of tents.
He and Otchen’s family had spent most of their time after that trying to find food, but lumjum and berries didn’t grow in the winter, and game was scarce. They had survived mainly on fish, until in late winter they had chanced to come across another family traveling through the foothills. Upon hearing their story, the others had taken pity on them and traded them one of their own goats for some tools and fishing gear. So at least they had had a little milk after that.
At the next Mid-Autumn Gathering Ernth had rejoined his own family. Otchen and most of his family had split up to spend the next year more comfortably with friends or relatives. Jenth’s parents, grandparents, and little brother Rith had stayed together, traded more supplies with people they knew, and ended up with some dried meat and a second goat for the year ahead. But they all knew that would barely provide enough milk even for such an unusually small family group.
What would it mean to them to get their old flock back this autumn?
But surely it couldn’t be. The Lowlanders wouldn’t really be willing to give up the animals they had taken, regardless of any marks they had made on their scrap of trash. Besides, the incident had been nearly two years ago. What if they had forgotten or changed their minds?
“It could be a trap,” Ernth said finally, still trying to make sense of it all. “They’re probably waiting for one of us to go there alone, and then they’ll kill us.”
“What reason would they have to do that?” Korram demanded. “That wouldn’t make any sense. I think the man really meant what he said. He felt badly about Jenth’s death and wanted to do what he could to make up for it by keeping the flock safe until someone came back to get it. He probably didn’t realize none of you would be able to read his note, and I’m sure he never expected he would have the goats this long.”
Ernth didn’t reply. Do I dare climb over the ridge, return to the Lowlander village alone, and face Jenth’s murderer? He wasn’t sure. In any case, he didn’t have to decide anything just yet. The family would vote.
“I think Korram should be the one to go,” declared Korth when they talked it over that evening around the campfire. “He’s the only one who doesn’t mind talking to Lowlanders. Besides, they won’t try to kill him, especially if he tells them who he is.”
“I don’t know about that,” Korram objected. “Back at Nilvey, I found out that Rampus had instructed the townsfolk to watch for me and send him word if I came by. I assume he’s planning to send someone to kill me as soon as he finds out where I am.”
“But it must be a long way from here to where Rampus is,” Charr pointed out. “We’ll make sure we leave right after you go to the village. Then he couldn’t possibly send anyone in time.”
“I’ll go get the goats if Korram’s too scared,” Thisti piped up eagerly. “I’ve always wanted to visit a Lowlander village. Let me go!”
“It’s not that I’m scared,” Korram protested. “I just think we should do what makes the most sense, and it doesn’t make sense for me to be the one. Ernth is the logical choice, because he’s the only person here who’s actually been to this village before and seen the man in question.”
Ernth shrugged off his objection, smug in the knowledge that Korram wasn’t going to win this one. “That wouldn’t be a problem. I could easily describe which building he came out of.”
“The village may have changed since you were there,” Korram argued. “There might be more houses now.”
“It can’t have changed all that much.”
Mother was nodding. “It would be too risky for Ernth or any of the rest of us to go. Korram is the only one we could be sure would be safe.”
“I agree,” said Father.
“So do I,” put in Aunt Silanth, and one by one the others voiced their agreement.
“But I don’t agree,” protested Thisti. “I want to go!”
“Sorry, Thisti, you have to be Accepted before you get to vote,” Charr reminded her. The little girl stomped her foot and stared at the ground, sulking.
“So, it’s settled,” Korth told Korram. “We’ll camp in this valley through tomorrow. Ernth will tell you where this Lowlander village is, and you can go ask for the goats back tomorrow afternoon or evening. We’ll leave first thing in the morning on the next day, so that Rampus fellow won’t find you.”
“Now wait just a moment,” protested Korram. “We can’t be sure I’ll be safe, and in any case, I haven’t agreed to this plan.”
“You don’t have a choice,” Ernth informed him, grinning. “You’re outvoted.”
“What?”
It was fun to see him so indignant. “That’s how it works, Prince of Malorn. As long as you’re living with us, you have to follow our rules. When we have decisions to make, the family votes, and we all follow what the vote says.”
Korram stared from one to the other as though waiting for someone to laugh and say they were only joking. Obviously he still had a lot to learn about their ways. But Ernth watched his expression change from annoyed to resigned to thoughtful.
“All right,” he
conceded finally. “I’ll do it, but here’s how it will work. I’ll take the note with me and go by myself to get the villagers to give up the goats, but the rest of you will be waiting nearby. Assuming everything goes smoothly, I’ll come and bring all of you into the village afterward and introduce you to the Lowlanders there. Then you and they will talk about how sorry you both are that these misunderstandings and tragedies keep happening, and you’ll promise not to steal any more of their crops. They in turn will promise to let you trade for apples or whatever else they can spare at reasonable rates whenever you pass by. When we leave, you and the villagers will part as friends.”
They all stared at him. Ernth had never heard such a bizarre idea before. But Korram was speaking so earnestly that he could almost believe things would really work out that way. At least, he believed that Korram believed they could.
“And what if the Lowlanders don’t respond the way you say they will?” Grandfather demanded.
“Then I’ll come up with a new plan.” Korram shrugged. “But if all of you treat them with respect and show them you’re willing to forgive them for Jenth’s death, I really think they’ll treat you well in return. In any case, I’m still the Prince of Malorn, and you did tell me you wanted to see if I could change the way Lowlanders treat you. I’m going to prove once again that I can, but it won’t work unless you’re willing to do your part.”
There was silence for a moment while they all considered this, and then Grandmother spoke up. “We’ll do what you say, as long as you speak with them alone first and make sure it’s safe. Won’t we?” She looked meaningfully around at the others.
Voting or no, one couldn’t easily oppose Grandmother. One by one they reluctantly voiced their agreement.
Prince of Malorn (Annals of Alasia Book 3) Page 14