by Julia Gray
'You poor thing.' She glanced at him, thinking that such words of sympathy were of little worth. Not only had he been forced to endure his physical disabilities and, more recently, his exile from his homeland, but now it seemed that he had never known anything but hardship and loneliness.
Terrel shrugged, and her heart went out to the boy as he tried to appear nonchalant. He shivered, and Ysatel glanced quickly at the wolf-fish, fearing that he might be anticipating another tremor. But the fish were still moving calmly within their self-contained realm, and she realized that Terrel was simply getting cold.
'Come on,' she said briskly. 'We'd better get back and light the fire for dinner.'
As they got up she put an arm round Terrel's shoulders and gave him a hug.
When he looked at her in surprise, Ysatel smiled.
'You're part of our family now,' she told him.
Chapter Ten
The past month had been a hectic period of discovery for Terrel, as well as a time of fluctuating emotions. As his health improved and he was able to move about more freely, he had come to know more of the people of Fenduca and of their way of life. Now that he could talk to the villagers, he had been accepted by most of them -although some were still wary of him. A few even seemed to be in awe of his arcane talents, and the resentment that had accompanied his arrival had now largely disappeared. Even Cutter, who had more reason than most to dislike the foreigner, seemed prepared to tolerate his presence. For his part, Terrel had come to appreciate and admire the spirit of defiance and obstinacy that kept the villagers in what was a dirty and dangerous place, where mere survival was hard enough and deprivation was commonplace. The fact that they had been able not only to endure but also to build a complex, genuine community - even if it was fractious and sometimes violent - was a testament to their willpower and vitality. There were few among them who had not been touched by tragedy, but amid the dust and mud of Fenduca there was often time enough to celebrate as well. Whether this was occasioned by an unusually good find, a marriage, the birth of a healthy child, or simply the full of one of the moons, mattered little. In the end, they were all celebrations of life itself.
Even so, there were more reasons for sadness than for joy, and none of the villagers led a comfortable life. Even Kerin and his family, who were better off than most, were often cold and hungry, and Terrel was acutely aware that he was a burden upon their meagre resources. None of them ever complained about the cost of their continued hospitality, but Terrel wished he could contribute more to the household. His only opportunities to do so had been when the villagers brought their animals to see him.
Following his success with Chiva's piglet - and his earlier 'taming' of Scar -
the boy had gained the reputation of having a 'healing way with beasts'. He had tried to explain that he had no such skills, no magic, but people insisted on consulting him anyway. At first Ysatel had to help him understand what was wanted, but eventually he'd been able to talk directly to the visitors and —
much to his own amazement - had met with some success in relieving the ailments of several domestic animals. He still had no idea how this was possible. Everything he did was governed purely by instinct and, although he could generally feel some sort of connection with the creature, what happened after that was as much a mystery to him as it was to everyone else. The closest he could come to an explanation was that, perhaps, at some subconscious level, he persuaded his patients to heal themselves. However, when this happened, the owners were not interested in the whys and wherefores.
Their response - following Chiva's example - was to return with a small present of food or other goods in payment. Actual coinage was rare in Fenduca, but many other things could be used as money, and the village had a complicated bartering system. At first Terrel had felt awkward about accepting such gifts, but his doubts had soon been overcome by practical considerations.
Naturally enough, he passed all such rewards to Ysatel, but they were not nearly enough to repay her family for all they had done for him. Nevertheless, his exploits - which often left him exhausted and in pain - did more than anything else to confirm his place in the household, and in the village as a whole.
There had only been one occasion when Terrel had not been able to help his visitor. This was when a little boy had come to the hut, hesitated in the doorway, and then been beckoned inside by Ysatel. He was carrying a small green snake which he placed carefully on the floor, before prodding it gently with a finger and looking up at Terrel expectantly. Even before picking it up, Terrel knew that the creature was dead, and he wondered what he should say to the child. The snake's scales were smooth and cool, but its eyes were filmed and its jaw hung slackly open.
'I can't help,' he began hesitantly. 'It's—'
'We don't have enough dreams for this trade, Davi,' Ysatel cut in, her voice firm but gentle. 'There are some things even a sharakan can't do.'
The boy nodded solemnly, held out his hands for the snake and, when Terrel returned it to him, went away
again — all without uttering a single word. Terrel never discovered whether the creature had been Davi's pet or if he'd simply found its dead body somewhere, but he could not help remembering the look of disappointment in the boy's eyes, and he wished that he really were a sharakan. At least then he would have known how to explain his failure.
Even as he became reasonably proficient in the language of Macul, the word
'sharakan' had remained an enigma. In conversations with Ysatel, Farazin and others, the nearest Terrel had come to understanding was its literal translation of 'dream-trader' - but what exactly that meant was still an elusive concept. His hosts tried to make it clearer for him, but with only limited success. There was power involved, a kind of magic, and a sharakan could obtain guidance from the moons and stars - which made Terrel think of the obvious comparison with the seers of his homeland - but no one could actually tell him what these men did.
Conversations like this were bound to make him think of Alyssa and her ability to 'see' other people's dreams. Such an attribute might be useful in Macul.
However, thoughts of Alyssa inevitably led to other reminders of the world he had been forced to leave behind, of all the things he had lost.
The one thing that consistently spoiled Terrel's peace of mind, during a month in which he made generally positive progress, was the fact that there was still no sign of Alyssa or her retinue of ghosts. Their abandonment of him seemed particularly cruel, given his uncertain circumstances and the unanswered questions they had left him with — and even though he knew they were not always masters of their own fates, he could not believe that their long absence was anything other than deliberate. He was reasonably certain that Muzeni and Shahan were capable of such callousness if it suited their purpose, but the bonds between him and Alyssa and Elam had been forged out of friendship and love, and he simply couldn't understand why they did not return.
Although he fought against these feelings of hurt and betrayal, he didn't always succeed. In his more charitable moods he invented any number of credible reasons for their not coming back to him, but by the time a long month had passed he was beginning to run out of excuses. More than once, recalling the timing of Alyssa's previous visit, he wondered whether he should try and get himself into another potentially lethal situation, so that she'd recognize his peril and have to return to save him again. Fortunately, common sense prevailed, and he had done no such thing.
'Zolen got back from Tefir today,' Aylen reported. 'The water level's still rising. Unless something changes, it'll go the way of the other settlements in the valley.'
'It's the same everywhere,' Ysatel said. 'Why should the soldiers care that their debris is turning more and more of the province into swampland? It's not their homes being drowned.'
'Uncertainty over the moon-lore isn't helping,' Olandis added. 'No one seems to be sure what they can and can't do.'
'Is that because of the Dark Moon?' Terrel asked. He rare
ly joined in any family discussions, preferring to listen to the others, but on this occasion he couldn't help
himself. The Dark Moon's anomalous behaviour had caused much confusion on Vadanis too - and he'd already heard Aylen and Olandis complaining that the local tides were becoming unpredictable.
'It is,' Kerin confirmed. 'At least in part.'
'Tell him the other part,' Olandis prompted.
'The sky-watchers haven't been able to keep up with what's happening. As well as the Dark Moon's cycle speeding up, the waste from the mines has dammed several waterways, so lakes are getting larger and rivers are changing course.
No one could have foreseen such things.'
'Not even the sharaken?' Olandis said, a challenging look in his eyes.
'They're the ones who make the moon-lore, after all. Why haven't they told the sky-watchers what to do?'
'Such things take time,' Kerin replied. 'You forget where they live.'
'Tefir hasn't got much time,' his son pointed out.
'Where do the sharaken live?' Terrel asked. As always, any hint of a disagreement among the family made him feel uncomfortable, and he sought to distract them.
'In the interior,' Aylen replied. 'In mystic palaces atop the distant mountains.' He spoke in a deliberately dreamy yet portentous voice.
'You shouldn't speak so disrespectfully of our guides,' Kerin admonished his sons, 'especially as there is a guest at our meal.' He was trying to sound stern and disapproving, but Terrel could not help feeling that his heart was not in the argument.
'Sorry,' Aylen said, grinning.
'Terrel has a right to know what they're like,' Olandis said. 'What they do -
or don't do - affects him now as well as us.'
'Have you ever seen their palaces, Aylen?' Terrel asked. For a long time he had thought of the younger brother as Aylemirana, but he understood their system of names now — although he was still not sure why they each needed two or three. Where he came from you only needed one. It was a trivial difference between the two lands, but it still took some getting used to.
'Me?' Aylen said, looking surprised. 'No. Gate's the only one of us who's done much travelling, and I doubt even he's been that far.'
Everyone looked at Kerin, but he just shook his head, frowning slightly.
'Does anyone want more soup?' Ysatel asked, signalling the end of that conversation for the time being.
Everyone except Terrel accepted a second helping. Although he was immensely grateful for everything he received, he often found the food unappetising, and the broth that night had been unusually thin and tasteless. Even his memories of the frugal fare at Havenmoon seemed luxurious by comparison. None of the others made any comment about the meal, but Ysatel was obviously dissatisfied with her efforts.
'Do you think you'll be able to go fishing again soon?' she asked hopefully.
Kerin's sons deferred to their father in such matters, and so it was he who answered.
'Maybe. We'll see how we do in the river tomorrow.'
'Could I go?' Terrel asked.
An awkward silence followed his suggestion, and he began to wish he hadn't spoken. He was constantly hoping
to find ways to contribute to the family's wellbeing, but on further reflection he could see that it was not a practical idea.
'He could probably charm them onto his hooks,' Aylen remarked, trying to make light of the situation.
'I doubt if you could handle a canoe,' Kerin said more soberly.
'Perhaps Terrel could come with one of us,' Olandis suggested. 'That way we'd only lose one screenhandler.'
'We'll see,' his father said, and the subject was closed.
Ysatel normally cleared away once they had finished eating, and then the family made their preparations for the night. However, this particular evening was unusually mild, and because the daylight was now lasting a little longer, they decided to stay round the fire for a while. Aylen teased his brother about the attentions he'd been receiving from one of the village girls, Ysatel checked the progress of the wound on Olandis's arm, and Kerin reminded them to think about what they should put on their prayer-flag for the forthcoming moon-days. Then Aylen raised a more contentious subject.
'There's a rumour going round that the soldiers are thinking of moving the fences lower down the slope.'
'What for?' Ysatel exclaimed. 'Haven't they taken enough already?'
Terrel had been told the history of the black mountain. The fact that it had been claimed by Macul's king, almost as soon as he had learnt that its dark rock contained almost unlimited supplies of precious stones and minerals, was the central injustice of Fenduca's existence. The soldiers who had driven off the prospectors and built defences to keep them out had, in effect, stolen those treasures — which were normally only found deep underground — from the very people who had discovered them. Terrel now knew that he was not the only one whom fate had cheated.
'Nothing's ever going to be enough for Ekuban,' Olandis commented bitterly.
'Does Vadanis have a king?' Aylen asked.
The question took Terrel by surprise. His hosts had recognized his reluctance to discuss his homeland, and their curiosity had been muted of late. When he'd first been able to talk to them, they had been full of questions - Does everyone on Vadanis have eyes like yours? Can you feel the ground moving all the time? Why did you leave? - but now they rarely bothered, knowing his answers would be evasive.
'We ... we have an emperor.'
Aylen smiled, evidently amused by the idea that a small group of islands —
whose total area was only a tiny fraction of that of Macul - should consider itself an empire.
'And does he exploit his people as Ekuban does?'
'I . . . wouldn't know about that.'
'Leave the boy alone, Chute,' Kerin said. 'What's he going to know of emperors or kings?'
What indeed? Terrel thought, the spectres raised by his conversation with Elam returning to haunt him.
'There's another rumour, that the soldiers are going to be looking for more volunteers soon,' Aylen said. 'Think they'll get any?'
'Only the most desperate,' his father replied. 'As usual.'
Inside the military boundaries, the upper part of the mountain was being dismantled piece by piece so that its riches could be sent to the royal court.
Such an enormous enterprise naturally required vast amounts of manpower, and the king's contractors employed hundreds of miners in conditions that amounted to little more than slave labour. Even so, such employment was often sought by those who had had enough of the uncertainty and almost hopeless grind of life in Fenduca. Terrel had learnt that the village's name, translated literally, meant Lower-down, and this was apt in both a literal and a metaphorical sense.
'If our luck doesn't change soon,' Olandis said, 'we might be getting desperate.'
'Don't say that!' Ysatel gasped. 'Not even in jest.'
'I wasn't joking,' he responded grimly. 'We've found nothing worthwhile for days. Maybe I should go up there.'
'Don't be daft,' Aylen told him.
'What's daft about it? At least I'd get a regular wage.'
'You'd get a pittance!'
'And I could use it to help you,' Olandis went on. 'At the very least, you'd have one less mouth to feed.'
'Such a thing would help none of us,' Ysatel declared. She was white-faced with shock - horrified by the fact that Olandis might even be considering such a venture — and glanced at her husband for support.
'You're a fool if you think it would do any good,' Kerin stated, stony-faced.
'But you'll have to make up your own mind, as always.' With that he stood up, signalling that the discussion was at an end.
The hut was very quiet that night, and Terrel felt the tension more than any of them. Living there had given him his first intimation that a family unit could work, even in poverty-stricken circumstances, and the argument had allowed him to see that — even within such a close group - there
could be cracks in the foundations of love and mutual respect. Olandis's anger and Ysatel's dismay had affected the boy deeply, and the comment about 'one less mouth to feed' had made him feel dreadfully guilty.
Terrel's nightmares had receded during the last month, as he had grown accustomed to his new life, but now -with all his doubts and fears crowding back - he was reluctant to commit himself to sleep. When he finally managed to do so, his anxiety proved to be justified.
The mocking voice of the enchanter haunted his dreams, bringing with it pain and a redoubled sense of loss, until a sword flashed down, glinting in the starlight - and Terrel was plunged into an endless, swirling darkness.
Chapter Eleven
Most of the villagers hung back from the initial confrontation, intimidated by the soldiers' polished steel and impassive stares. Only Farazin and Kerin went forward, and even they were forced to halt below the ledge where the janizar stood, so that they had to talk with him from a literally inferior position.
Although Yahn's expression of open contempt did not change, he was aware of the identity of the two men. He was obliged to treat the sky-watcher with at least the pretence of respect, and he knew that Kerin - unlike most of the scum ranged below him on the mountainside - was a man to be reckoned with.
Yahn had not risen to his present rank of janizar, which brought with it the command of over two hundred men, without realizing that information was a valuable weapon. While the inhabitants of Fenduca were not his enemies in a technical sense, he thought of them as the opposing force in the continuing battle for the mountain, and treated them accordingly. In truth it was a one-sided
battle, but that only made him all the more determined that his victory would be complete.
'There is something you wish to discuss with us, Janizar?' Farazin asked.
'No discussion is necessary,' Yahn announced, his voice carrying easily to the gathering below. 'I come to inform you of three things. The first of these is self-evident.'
Without turning round he signalled to one of his deputies, and there was movement at the recently opened gate in the fence behind him. A dishevelled group of men shuffled forward, several of them limping. A few had to be supported by their fellows, while others had arms in rough slings or were covered in grimy, blood-stained bandages. One man had a cloth wrapped around his head, covering his eyes, and was being led by one of his companions. All their faces were drawn with pain and despair.