"It was we who built Bekla. To this day it is like a garden of sculpted and dancing stone. The Palace of the Barons is more beautiful than a lily pool when the dragonflies hover over it. The street of the builders was full then of rich men's messengers from far and near, offering fortunes to craftsmen to come and work for them. And those who condescended to go traveled swiftly, for there were broad, safe roads to the frontiers.
"In those days, Shardik was with us. He was with us as the Tuginda is with us now. He did not die. He passed from one bodily home to another."
"Shardik ruled in Bekla?"
"No, not in Bekla. Shardik was worshiped and Shardik blessed us from a lonely, sacred place on the borders of the empire, to which his suppliants journeyed in humility. Where was that, do you think?"
"I cannot tell, saiyett."
"It was Quiso, where the shreds of Shardik's power still cling like rags on a windy hedge. And it was the craftsmen of Bekla who made of the whole island a temple for Shardik. They built the causeway from the mainland to Ortelga--the causeway that is now broken--for the bands of pilgrims, after they had assembled on the mainland shore among the Two-Sided Stones, would be brought first to Ortelga and thence make the night journey to Quiso, just as you made it last night. Our craftsmen, too, leveled and paved the terrace where Melathys met you; and over the ravine in front of it they made the Bridge of the Suppliants, a span of iron slender as a rope, by which all strangers had to cross or else go back. But that bridge is fallen this many a year--fallen long before we were born, you and I. Behind the terrace, as you know, lies the Upper Temple, which they cut out of the rock. You did not see the interior, for you were in darkness. It is a high chamber, twenty paces square, hewn throughout thirty years, flake by flake out of the living rock. And more than all this, they made--"
"The Ledges!"
"The Ledges: the greatest artifact in the world. Four generations of stonemasons and builders worked for more than a hundred years to complete the Ledges. Those who began it never saw the end. And they paved the shores of the bay below and built the dwellings for the priestesses and the women."
"And Shardik, saiyett? How was he housed?"
"He was not. He went where he would. He roamed free--sometimes among the woods, sometimes on the Ledges. But the priestesses hunted for him, fed him and looked after him. That was their mystery."
"But did he never kill?"
"Yes, sometimes he would kill--a priestess in the Singing, if such was God's will, or perhaps some over-bold suppliant who had approached him rashly or provoked him in some way. Also, he knew the truth in men's hearts and could tell when one was secretly his enemy. When he killed he did so out of his own divining--we did not set him on to kill. Rather it was our mystery and our skill to tend him so that he did not. The Tuginda and her priestesses walked and slept near Shardik--this was their art, the wonder that men came to see, the wonder that gave Bekla its luck and mastery."
"And was he mated?"
"Sometimes he was mated, but it did not have to be so. Whom God made Shardik was a matter of signs and omens, of His will rather than of human intent. Sometimes, indeed, the Tuginda would know that she must leave Quiso and go into the hills or the forest with her girls, to find and bring back a mate for Shardik. But again, he might live until he seemed to die, and then they would go to find him reborn and bring him home."
"How?"
"They had ways of which we still know--or hope that we know, for they have been long unused--both drugs and other arts by which he could be controlled, though only for a little time. Yet none of these was sure. When the Power of God appears in earthly form, he cannot be driven here and there like a cow, or where would be the wonder and the awe? Always, with Shardik, there was uncertainty, danger and the risk of death: and that at least is one thing of which we can still be sure. Shardik requires of us all that we have, and from those who cannot offer so much freely, he may well take it by force."
She paused, gazing unseeingly into the dark jungle, as though remembering the power and majesty of Shardik of the Ledges and his Tuginda long ago. At last Kelderek asked, "But--those days came to an end, saiyett?"
"They came to an end. The full story I do not know. It was a sacrilege too vile to be fully known or spoken. All I can tell is that the Tuginda of that time betrayed Shardik and betrayed the people and herself. There was a man--no, not fit to be called a man, for who but one lost to God would dare to contrive such a thing?--a wandering slave trader. She became--with him--ah!" and here the Tuginda, overcome, stood silent, her body pressed back against the trunk of the quian, shuddering with disgust and horror. At length, recovering herself, she went on,
"He--he slew Shardik, and many of the sacred women also. The rest he and his men took for slaves, and she who had once been called Tuginda fled with him down the Telthearna. Perhaps they came to Zeray--perhaps to some other place--I cannot say--it does not greatly matter. God knew what they had done and He can always afford to wait.
"Then the enemies of Bekla rose up and attacked it and we were left without heart or courage to fight them. They took the city. The High Baron died at their hands and what was left of the people fled over the plain and the Gelt Mountains to the shores of the Telthearna, for they hoped that if they fled as suppliants to these islands, they might save at least their lives. So they crossed to Ortelga and broke up the causeway behind them. And their enemies left them there, to scratch in the earth and scavenge in the forest, for they had taken their city and their empire and it was not worth their while to attack desperate men in their last stronghold. Quiso too they left them, for they feared Quiso, even though it had become an empty, defiled place. Yet one thing they forbade. Shardik was never to return; and for a long time, until there was no more need, they kept watch to make sure of this.
"The years passed and we became an ignorant, impoverished people. Many Ortelgan craftsmen drifted away to sell their skill in richer places; and those who were left lost their cunning for lack of fine materials and wealthy custom. Now we venture as far on the mainland as we dare and trade what resources we have--rope and skins--for what we can get from beyond. And the barons dig pits and post shendrons to keep themselves alive on a spit of jungle that no one else requires. Yet still the Tuginda, on her empty island, has work--believe me, Kelderek, she has work--the hardest. Her work is to wait. To be ready, always, for Shardik's return. For one thing has been plainly foretold, again and again, by every sign and portent known to the Tuginda and the priestesses--that one day Shardik will return."
Kelderek stood for some time looking out toward the moonlit reeds. At length he said,
"And the Vessels, saiyett? You said that we were the Vessels."
"I was taught long ago that God will bless all men by revealing a great truth through Shardik and through two chosen vessels, a man and a woman. But those vessels He will first shatter to fragments and then Himself fashion them again to His purpose."
"What does this mean?"
"I don't know," answered the Tuginda. "But of this you can be sure, Kelderek Zenzuata. If this is indeed Lord Shardik, as I, like you, believe, then there will be good reason why you and none other have been chosen to find and to serve him--yes, even though you yourself cannot guess what that reason may be."
"I am no warrior, saiyett. I--"
"It has never been foretold that Shardik's return will necessarily mean that power and rule is to be restored to the Ortelgans. Indeed, there is a saying, 'God does not do the same thing twice.'"
"Then, saiyett, if we find him, what are we to do?"
"Simply wait upon God," she replied. "If our eyes and ears are open in all humility, it will be shown us what we are to do. And you had better be ready, Kelderek, and submit yourself with a humble and honest heart, for the accomplishment of God's purpose may well depend upon that. He can tell us nothing if we will not hear. If you and I are right, our lives will soon cease to be our own to do with as we will."
She began to walk slowly back t
oward the fire and Kelderek walked beside her. As they reached it she clasped his hand. "Have you the skill to track a bear?"
"It is very dangerous, saiyett, believe me. The risk--"
"We can only have faith. Your task will be to find the bear. As for me, I have learned in long years the mysteries of the Tuginda, but neither I nor any woman alive has ever performed them, nor even seen them performed, in the presence of Lord Shardik. God's will be done."
She was whispering, for they had passed the fire and were standing among the sleeping women.
"You must get some rest now, Kelderek," she said, "for we have much to do tomorrow."
"As you say, saiyett. Shall I wake two of the girls? One alone may give way to fear."
The Tuginda looked down at the breathing figures, their tranquillity seeming as light, remote and precarious as that of fish poised in deep water.
"Let the poor lasses rest," she said. "I will take the watch myself."
10 The Finding of Shardik
AS THE SUN ROSE HIGHER and moved southward round the hill, the watery glitter from the reed beds, reflected into the trees along the shore, was sifted upward through the translucent leaves, to encounter at last and be dimmed by the direct rays penetrating among the higher branches. A green, faint light, twice reflected, shone down from the undersides of the leaves, speckling the bare ground between the tree trunks, placing the faintest of shadows beside fallen twigs, glistening in tiny points upon the domes of pebbles. Dappled by the continual movement of the sunlit water, the leaves seemed stirred as though by a breeze. Yet this apparent disturbance was an illusion: there was no wind, the trees were still in the heat and nothing moved except the river flowing outside.
Kelderek was standing near the shore, listening to the sounds from the jungle inland. He could tell that since his adventure of two days before--even since their landing the previous night--the confusion in the forest had lessened and the agitation of movement subsided. There were fewer cries of alarm, fewer startlings of birds and flights of monkeys through the trees. No doubt many of the fugitive creatures had already fallen prey to others. Of those surviving, most must have begun to move eastward down the island in search of food and safety. Some, probably, had taken to the water again, making for the Telthearna's southern bank on the opposite side of the strait. He had seen prints here and there in the mud and narrow passages broken through the reeds. The thought came to him, "Suppose he should be gone? Suppose he is no longer on the island?"
"We would be safe then," he thought, "and my life, like a stream after a cloudburst, would return between the banks where it ran two days ago." He turned his head toward the Tuginda who, with Bel-ka-Trazet, was standing a little way off among the trees. "But I could not become once more the man who fled from the leopard. Two days--I have lived two years! Even if I were to know that Shardik will kill me--and like enough he will--still I could not find it in my heart to pray that we should find him gone."
The more he considered, however, the more he felt it probable that the bear was not far away. He recalled its clumsy, weary gait as it made off through the bushes and how it had winced in pain when it scraped its side against the tree. Huge and fearsome though it was, there had been something pitiable about the creature he had seen. If he were right and it had been hurt in some way, it would be more than dangerous to approach. He had better put out of his mind for the moment all thought of Shardik the Power of God, and address himself to the daunting task--surely sufficient to the day, if ever a task was--of finding Shardik the bear.
Returning to the Tuginda and the Baron, he told them how he read the signs of the forest. Then he suggested that for a start, they might go over the ground which he had covered two days before, and so come to the place where he had first seen the bear. He showed them where he had come ashore and how he had tried to slip unseen past the leopard and then to walk away from it. They made their way inland among the bushes, followed by Melathys and the girl Sheldra.
Since they had left the camp Melathys had spoken scarcely a word. Glancing behind him, Kelderek saw her drawn face, very pale in the heat, as she lifted a trembling hand to wipe the sweat from her temples. He felt full of pity for her. What work was this for a beautiful young woman, to take part in tracking an injured bear? It would have been better to have left her in the camp and to have brought a second girl from among the servants; one dour and stolid as Sheldra, who looked as though she would not notice a bear if it stood on her toe.
As they approached the foot of the hill he led the way through the thicker undergrowth to the place where he had wounded the leopard. By chance he came upon his arrow and, picking it up, fitted the notch to the string of the bow he was carrying. He drew the bow a little, frowning uneasily, for he disliked it and missed his own. This was the bow of one of the girls--too light and pliant: he might have saved himself the trouble of bringing it. He wondered what that surly fool Taphro had done with his bow. "If ever we get back," he thought, "I'll ask the Baron to order it to be restored to me."
They went on cautiously. "This is where I fell, saiyett," he whispered, "and see, here are the marks the leopard made."
"And the bear?" asked the Tuginda, speaking as quietly as he.
"He stood below, saiyett," replied Kelderek, pointing down the bank, "but he did not need to reach up to strike the leopard. He struck sideways--thus."
The Tuginda gazed down the extent of the steep bank, drew in her breath and looked first at Bel-ka-Trazet and then back at the hunter.
"Are you sure?" she asked.
"The leopard, as it crouched, was looking upward into the bear's face, saiyett," replied Kelderek. "I can see it still, and the white fur beneath its chin."
The Tuginda was silent as though trying to imagine more clearly the gigantic figure that had reared itself, bristling and snarling, above the level of the bank on which they stood. At length she said to Bel-ka-Trazet,
"Is it possible?"
"I would think not, saiyett," replied the Baron, shrugging his shoulders.
"Well, let us go down," she said. Kelderek offered her his arm, but she gestured to him to turn back for Melathys. The priestess's breathing was quick and irregular and she leaned hard on him, hesitating at every step. When they reached the foot of the bank she set her back against a tree, bit her lip and closed her eyes. He was about to speak to her when the Tuginda laid a hand on his shoulder.
"You did not see the bear again after it left you here?"
"No, saiyett," he replied. "That's the way it went--through those bushes," he went across to the tree against which the bear had scraped its injured side. "It has not returned this way." He paused a few moments and then, trying to speak calmly, asked, "Am I to track it now?"
"We must find the bear if we can, Kelderek. Why else have we come?"
"Then, saiyett, it will be best if I go alone. The bear may be close and above all I must be silent."
"I will come with you," said Bel-ka-Trazet.
He unclasped the chain at his throat, took off his fur cloak and laid it on the ground. His left shoulder, like his face, was mutilated--humped and knotted as the exposed root of a tree. Kelderek thought, "He wears the cloak to conceal it."
They had gone only a few yards when the hunter perceived the tracks of the leopard, partly trodden out by those of the bear. The leopard, he supposed, had been injured but had tried to escape, and the bear had pursued it. Soon they came upon the leopard's body, already half-devoured by vermin and insects. There were no signs of a struggle and the bear's trail led on through the bushes to emerge in open, stone-strewn woodland. Here, for the first time, it was possible to see some distance ahead between the trees. They halted on the edge of the undergrowth, listening and watching, but nothing moved and all was quiet save for the chittering of parakeets in the branches.
"No harm in the women coming this far," said Bel-ka-Trazet in his ear; and a moment later he had slipped noiselessly back into the undergrowth.
Kelderek, left alone,
tried to guess which way the bear might have taken. The stony ground showed no tracks, however, and he felt himself at a loss. The Baron did not return and he wondered whether perhaps Melathys might have fainted or been taken ill. At last, growing weary of waiting, he counted a hundred paces to his right and then began to move slowly in a wide half-circle, examining the ground for the least sign--tracks, claw marks, droppings or shreds of hair.
He had completed perhaps half this task without success when he came once more to the edge of a belt of undergrowth. It did not extend far, for he could glimpse open ground beyond. On impulse he crept through it and came out at the top of a grassy slope, bordered on each side by forest and stretching away to the northern shore of the island and the Telthearna beyond. Some little way from where he stood was a hollow--a kind of pit about a stone's throw across. It was surrounded by bushes and tall weeds, and from somewhere in the same direction came a faint sound of water. He might as well go and drink, he thought, before returning. To recover the bear's tracks, now that they had lost them, would probably prove a long and arduous business.
Setting off across the open ground, he saw that there was indeed a brook running down the slope beyond the hollow. The hollow was not directly in his way, but out of mere curiosity he turned aside and looked down into it. Instantly he dropped on his hands and knees, concealing himself behind a thick clump of weeds near the verge.
He could feel the pulse behind his knee like a finger plucking the tendon and his heart was beating so violently that he seemed to hear it. He waited, but there was no other sound. Cautiously he raised his head and looked down once more.
In contrast to the heat-parched forest all about, the ground below was fresh and verdant. On one side grew an oak, its lower branches level with the top of the pit and spreading over the ground near the brink. The foot of the trunk was surrounded by short, smooth turf and close by, in its shade, lay a shallow pool. There was no outfall and, as he watched, the water, still as glass, reflected two ducks, which flew across a shield-shaped cloud, wheeled in the blue and passed out of sight. Along the further edge rose a bank and over this grew a tangle of trepsis vine--a kind of wild marrow, with rough leaves and trumpet-shaped scarlet flowers.
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