The Jasper Forest

by Julia Gray

  'She means a lot to you, this spirit?' Reader asked. He had been taken aback by the boy's vehemence, and wished he could have set his mind at rest.

  'Yes, she does.'

  'Are you sure that's wise?'

  'What do you mean? What are you talking about?' Terrel exclaimed. 'You don't even know her.'

  'I know that she is not of our world.'

  'She is. Or she will be soon, at least.'

  'And I know that females of any race can be dangerous,' Reader added. He sounded serious, but there was an oddly wistful look on his face as he spoke, as if he wasn't sure that he believed his own words. 'They can distract you from the truly important tasks.'

  More important than love? Terrel thought, but kept this question to himself.

  Instead he chose to ask another - one that had only just occurred to him.

  'How old were you when you came here?'

  'I was six years old,' Reader replied. 'Why?'

  'No reason,' Terrel said. 'I just wondered.'

  In fact he was feeling sorry for the old man, and wondering just how wise he could be if he'd spent so much time shut away from the world.

  Outside the lamp-lit room, dawn was breaking. Terrel had not slept all night, but he still didn't feel tired.

  'My belief is that Alyssa will return to you if she is able to do so,' Reader assured him. 'She is as devoted to you as you are to her. Can you be content with that?'

  I already know that, Terrel thought. That's not what I'm worried about. He had taken some comfort from the prophecy within the Tindaya Code, which had foretold his arrival at the jewelled city with 'a flying creature'. Who else could that refer to but Alyssa? And if that were true, then she must be alive.

  But he also knew that the seers' translation of the Code had been inaccurate before. The thought of going to Talazoria alone was horrifying.

  'The road must be turning now,' he breathed. 'If she doesn't come soon, maybe she never will.' He closed his eyes in anguish at the idea.

  'What's that?' Reader asked, cupping a hand to his ear.

  'Nothing.'

  The old man sighed, adjusting his position among the pillows. One of the acolytes hovering nearby approached, but Reader waved him away.

  'Don't you want to know the outcome of your petition?' he asked Terrel. 'That was your purpose in coming here, after all.'

  'I already know,' the boy replied. 'The dream confirmed that everything I said was true, didn't it?'

  'Not exactly. But it did confirm that you believe it all to be true.'

  'And you don't?' Terrel asked, his confidence wavering. He had been assuming all along that the sharaken would help him. Now it seemed even that was not certain.

  'Ibelieve you,' Reader assured him, 'but some of my colleagues did not welcome your arrival, and have reservations even now. They are still consulting the oracles.'

  'But I have to go,' Terrel protested. 'I can't afford to wait any longer. Are any of you going to come with me?'

  'That was never an option.'

  'What?'

  'We do not leave this place except by special dispensation,' the sharakan told him. 'These are granted by the oracles only for specific purposes of our own, not for the needs of others.'

  'Then you were never going to help me!' Terrel exploded. 'So why have you kept me here? What has all this been about?'

  'I didn't say we wouldn't help you. There are other ways for us to do that.'

  'Such as?'

  'We will watch over your journey and guide your path.'

  'That's it? I've wasted all this time for that? I don't need a guide to get to Talazoria.'

  'Don't be so sure,' Reader warned. 'Good advice should never be spurned.'

  'Advice? Just how are you going to give me this advice?'

  'Through one of these.' The old man pointed to the carved rod that was propped up against his bed.

  'A message-handle?'

  'It's that and more.'

  'More?' Terrel queried.

  'When my colleagues and I reach an agreement - as I'm sure we will eventually

  - you'll be able to speak to me through the staff,' Reader said. 'And when the situation demands it, you will be able to summon my image so that I may speak for the sharaken.'

  'You'll be able to talk to anyone, not just me?'

  'Exactly,' Reader confirmed. 'But do not think to abuse this gift, Terrel. We don't undertake such trades lightly, and the cost to us is high. You may only have a single chance to use it, so you must pick your moment carefully.'

  Terrel nodded, already thinking ahead to his time in Talazoria. If he was able to get inside the royal court, even the king would surely be impressed by such a display - and the sharaken's words must carry some weight. His hopes began to rise, though he was still cautious.

  'What if you don't reach an agreement?'

  'Then I will personally do what I can,' the old man assured him, 'and hope that will be enough. I'm sorry I can't say more than that now.'

  The anger that had sustained Terrel through the latter part of the night was turning to gloom now. Until he knew that Alyssa was all right, nothing could make him feel any better.

  'You should rest now and sleep tonight,' Reader suggested. 'We'll prepare supplies for your journey, and you can leave at first light tomorrow.'

  Terrel stood up, suddenly feeling utterly exhausted, and went to the door.

  There he paused and looked back at the old man.

  'Thank you.'

  'There's no need to thank me,' Reader said. 'You've earned our help.'

  'That's not what I meant,' Terrel replied. 'I'll take your gifts, and gladly, but my thanks are for you. It's good to know that you at least believe in me.'

  *

  A day later, rested and well fed, his pack restocked with water and provisions, Terrel made his way through the tunnel beneath the fortress walls and out into the cold wind of the mountains. In his left hand he carried the intricately shaped staff that Reader had promised him. He didn't know what help — if any — it might provide, but he felt a little better for knowing he had earned it. Desperately hoping that Alyssa would join him soon, Terrel set out on the last stage of the long road to Talazoria.

  PART THREE

  TALAZORIA

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Terrel stood on the roof of the barge, gazing to the west. Spread out below him in a vast panorama was a great plain, which stretched to the horizon. It was a patchwork quilt whose colours varied according to the different types of vegetation and settlements, but the most striking feature was the fact that the plain was sliced in half by the bright straight line of the so-called

  'Royal Highway'. This was the last section of the canal on which Terrel had been travelling for several days and which would eventually carry him all the way to Talazoria. The setting sun was currently turning the surface of the water to the colour of burnished gold, emphasizing the unswerving line of the waterway. This was one of the impossibly straight 'rivers' of Terrel's dream, and for some reason, looking at it now made him feel uneasy.

  On the other hand, the canal had provided him with an excellent - and effortless - means of transport and, for the first time since he'd left the sharaken's fortress,

  he could afford to relax a little, knowing that he would reach the city long before the earthquake was due. Before he'd met the bargee, a man called Drewan Lafis, and earned his passage by relieving the pain in his stooped and overworked back, Terrel's journey had been plagued by delays. The arrival of the autumn rains had hampered his trek from the mountains, and then the first signs of winter's cold had made the latter stages uncomfortable. Progress had been painfully slow, especially as his right boot - which had been made to fit the peculiarities of his twisted foot — was now chafing badly. His supplies had run out, and on several occasions he'd been forced to stop and earn his food by whatever means he could. Once they were accepted, his healing skills were always welcome, but his strange appearance and unusual accent always
led to an initial period of suspicion and doubt which had to be overcome before he was allowed to prove himself -and that took time.

  When he had reached the small town situated close to the canal, he'd gone to look at the man-made wonder but had been turned away by the sentries who guarded the perimeter of the way-station. Even after he'd met and been befriended by Drewan, Terrel was still not sure that he'd be allowed to travel on the barge. Technically, it was illegal to take passengers on board, and the soldiers who accompanied each waterborne convoy only bowed to the bargee's wishes when Terrel agreed to help some of them with their various ailments.

  After that, even though he was still regarded with some apprehension by a few of the military men, he had become an accepted member of the boat's crew. By then the wound on his arm had healed completely, and he had even taken his turn leading the

  horse that pulled the craft along, and occasionally wielding one of the long poles that helped to steer the barge as well as propel it. He managed the latter by jamming the pole under his twisted right arm and using his left hand to control it. Although he had felt awkward and clumsy at first, experience had soon improved his performance. The barge progressed at a steady but sedate pace, and Terrel no longer had to worry about whether he was taking the best route. Nothing could be more direct than the canal, and Drewan's estimate of their time of arrival in Talazoria meant that the boy had no need to hurry, even though almost two complete cycles of the Amber Moon had passed - which represented half the time available for the journey.

  The barge was currently moored - along with several other craft - in a large artificial lake at the end of a high valley. This docking area was fed by several streams that ran down from the hills to either side. At the western end of the lake were the great wooden doors that formed the entrance to the first of a series of seven massive locks, which would transport the boats to and from the plain below. It was the largest and most amazing feat of engineering Terrel had ever seen — even more astonishing than the towering stone-built arches of the bridge -Drewan had called it an aqueduct — that carried the canal, its travellers and towpaths, over a valley that ran across its course. Terrel could hardly wait for the next morning, when their boat would travel down through the seven locks - an arduous and complicated manoeuvre which would take most of the day - so that he could see exactly how it all worked. After that, according to the bargee, it would take only a few more days of plain sailing until

  they reached their destination. Terrel preferred not to think about what would happen then.

  The one aspect of travelling upon the canal that worried him was that it meant he was almost constantly upon water. Even though he still couldn't bring himself to accept that Alyssa might be dead, he had resigned himself to the fact that she would almost certainly not be able to join him on this particular journey. This conviction had grown in strength as time passed and she did not appear. However, Terrel never entirely lost hope, and because of that he'd been initially reluctant to commit his passage to the canal, knowing that - just as it had done in the mist-filled valley - the presence of so much water might make it harder, or even impossible, for her to approach him. In the end, with time pressing and a certain, easy passage to the city on offer, he'd decided that it was an opportunity he could not afford to miss.

  Alyssa's continued absence was the main reason for him not wanting to look too far ahead. The prospect of encountering another elemental - and wrthout her help this time - made Terrel feel both afraid and uneasy, but he knew he had to try to fulfil his bargain. Without Alyssa he was also unable to talk to the ghosts, of course, and he would have dearly welcomed their advice at this point of his travels down the unknown road. Before long, once the barge had gone a little way across the lowland plain, there would be no chance of the ghosts coming to him anyway. He would then be within fifty miles of the city -

  a distance that marked the extent of the elemental's unseen force.

  During the earlier part of his journey, Terrel had used the message-handle to accept advice from another source.

  Reader had discouraged the boy from talking to him too often, as it was tiring for both of them, but the sharakan's directions had been of use on several occasions — and the contact had made Terrel feel as though the entire weight of the endeavour did not rest solely upon his shoulders. Even when he did not send or receive messages, just touching the staff gave him a feeling of comfort and a measure of much-needed confidence. There was always a sensation of latent power, a potential source of help should he ever need it.

  That had changed slightly since he'd come aboard the barge. His sense of the sharakan had become more remote somehow, as though the link between them was being stretched too thin. That was curious and a little unsettling, but as Terrel no longer needed the old man's advice for the journey, he didn't worry about this unduly. He had decided not to even try to contact Reader until he was in Talazoria - when the ability to summon the sharakan's image might prove vital.

  Although he was glad to have it, the message-handle had proved to be something of an embarrassment. It was as long as Terrel was tall and, apart from a section a third of the way down - where he held it - its surface was decorated with meticulously detailed carvings of miniature flowers, leaves and berries, as well as other shapes he could not identify. It had attracted a great deal of attention from passers-by - far too much attention for the boy's comfort, especially as he wasn't sure how people would regard it - and him - if he admitted to having been given it by the sharaken. As a result he'd fallen into the habit of using the glamour to make the staff look like a perfectly ordinary stick, something a boy with a maimed leg might carry. He felt uncomfortable doing this, knowing that all magic had its cost - and that it might enable Jax to interfere with his life - but it still seemed worth the risk. As yet his twin had done him no harm, apart from a few cruel words in his dreams - and Terrel was used to that.

  His dreams had been curious recently. Images of the Dark Moon, in all its aspects, had been linked with inexplicable messages that he usually only half remembered. He'd seen once more the majesty of the total eclipse at Tindaya, watched the black shape of the moon move across the lens of the telescope in Muzeni's ruined observatory, and stared in awe at its reflection at the ceremony in Betancuria - which had flickered with a swirling, rainbow-hued fire. He'd seen more fanciful images too, inspired by the haunting, almost poetic descriptions in Muzeni's lost journal, which pictured the Dark Moon as a bird of prey. And with all these visions he'd heard different voices, some of whom he recognized - such as Alyssa or Jax - while some were unknown to him. They had all seemed to be offering him advice. 'Don't try to dream within the dome,' and 'Move sideways first,' were two of the more memorable examples, but as Terrel couldn't decipher what any of them meant, and wasn't sure whether they came from friends or foes - assuming they really were messages and not pointless creations of his own subconscious - he decided to ignore them all. If these dreams were meant to tell him something, he hadn't the faintest idea what it was supposed to be.

  'You never did tell us why you want to go to the city,' Drewan remarked.

  Terrel and the bargee were sitting in the open stern section of the boat with the other member of the crew, a burly young man who was known as Odd. Terrel had yet to work out whether this was his real name or a due-name; although Odd was not the most intelligent person the boy had ever met, he didn't seem all that strange.

  'There's some people there I have to talk to,' Terrel answered.

  'Inside or outside?'

  'What do you mean?'

  Drewan took another swig of ale from the flagon he and Odd were sharing, then passed it to the younger man.

  'There's as many live outside the walls of Talazoria as do inside,' he explained. 'And getting in's not so easy unless you know the right people. The likes of us only get in on sufferance, until we've delivered our cargo, and then we're sent on our way again.'

  'Can't I come in with you?' Terrel suggested hopefully. H
e'd already been told that the canal passed directly through the city walls.

  Drewan shook his head.

  'You're not official, see. I can't risk that sort of trouble.'

  'There must be other ways in.'

  'There's gates,' the bargee agreed. 'But they don't let just anyone through.'

  'You don't look right,' Odd added helpfully.

  'Maybe they'll overlook that for a healer,' Drewan said.

  'He still don't look right,' Odd repeated. 'The guards won't like that.'

  'Too much at stake,' Drewan said, nodding.

  'I don't understand.'

  'There's three sorts of people in the world,' the bargee informed him, 'and which you are means everything in Talazoria. There's the citizens, from merchants who're rich enough to own a house inside the walls, right up to the nobles and Ekuban himself. They can come and go as they please. Then there's the underlings, the domestics and soldiers and such like, the ones who do all the work inside and get to stay there so long as they behave themselves. Then there's the rest of us.'

  'Peasants,' Odd said.

  'Peasants,' Drewan agreed without rancour. 'Only a few of us ever get past the guards, and then only to do a specific job. Most people have never even seen the inside - and they're not likely to. Don't get me wrong, though. I'm not complaining. I do all right.'

  Terrel had already seen that for himself. Many of the people of Macul lived in vile conditions. The deprivation he'd seen in Fenduca was far from unique. In fact, compared to some of the places he'd seen, the village beneath the black mountain had seemed positively prosperous. Drewan, on the other hand, had regular and reasonably well-paid work. If he disliked the fact that he was forced to spend his days under more or less constant scrutiny by the military, it was a price worth paying for protection against the envy of those less fortunate than himself. Apart from the soldiers who accompanied each convoy, the canal itself was guarded by manned way-stations at regular intervals along its length, and larger garrisons at places of particular importance - such as this series of locks.