"What did she say?" he asked Melathys. "I couldn't catch it."
"She said, 'Bless me, young sir, and accept my blessing in return.'"
*
He lay on his bed in the upper room, watching the elastic reflections widening, merging and closing among the roof poles. Melathys sat beside him, holding his good hand in both her own. He was tired out and feverish again, shivering and numb-cold. There was nothing left remarkable in the world. All was empty and cold, stretching away to the horizon and the blank sky.
"Hope you didn't find our singing out of keeping, sir," said Tan-Rion. "The priestess said it would be all to the good if we could manage a song, but the job was to think of something suitable that the lads could sing. They all know 'The Tears,' of course."
Kelderek found some words of thanks and praise, and after a little the officer, seeing that he was exhausted, took his leave. Presently Radu came, wrapped in a cloak from throat to ankles, and sat for a time opposite Melathys.
"They say my father's on his way," he said. "I'd hoped he might be here before this. If only he'd known, he'd have wished to be on the shore this afternoon."
Kelderek smiled and nodded like an old man, only partly taking in what he said. But indeed Radu said little, sitting silent for long minutes and once biting on his hand to still the chattering of his teeth. Kelderek slipped into a half-doze and woke to hear him answering Melathys.
"--but they'll be all right, I think." And then, after a pause, "Shouter's ill, you know--quite badly, they say."
"Shouter?" asked Melathys, puzzled.
"Is he?" said Kelderek. "But I saw him on the shore."
"Yes, I dare say he thought he'd better be there at all costs--not that it makes any difference-but he's in a bad way this evening. I believe it's fear as much as anything. He's terrified: partly of the other children, but partly of the villagers as well. They know who he is--or who he was--and they won't do anything for him. He's lying by himself in a shed, but I think he'd run away if he could."
"Who's Shouter?" asked Melathys again.
"Will they kill him?" said Kelderek. Radu did not answer at once and he pressed him. "What do you want to do with him?"
"No one's actually said anything; but what would be the good of killing him?"
"Is that really what you feel--after all you've suffered?"
"It's what I feel I ought to feel, anyway." He was silent again for some time and then said, "No one's going to kill you. Tan-Rion told me."
"I'll--I'll come and talk to Shouter," said Kelderek, groping to get up. "Where is the shed?"
"Lie down, my love," said Melathys. "I'll go. Since no one tells me about him, I must see this Shouter for myself--or hear him."
57 Elleroth Dinner Party
WHEN HE WOKE, his Yeldashay soldier was sitting nearby mending a piece of leather in the fading light. Seeing Kelderek awake, he grinned and nodded, but said nothing. Kelderek slept again and was next wakened by Melathys lying down beside him.
"If I don't lie down I'll fall down. I'll be off to bed soon, but it means so much to be alone with you again for a little. How are you?"
"Empty--desolate. Lord Shardik--I can't take it in." He broke off, but then said, "You did well today. The Tuginda herself could have done no better."
"Yes, she could: and she would have. But what happened was ordained."
"Ordained?"
"So I believe. I haven't told you something else the Tuginda said to me before I left Zeray. I asked her whether, if I found you, I should give you any message from her, and she said, 'He's troubled because of what he did years ago, at moonset on the road to Gelt. He hasn't been able to ask forgiveness, although he wants it. Tell him I forgive him freely.' And then she said, 'I'm guilty too--guilty of pride and stupidity.' I asked, 'How, saiyett? How could you be?' 'Why,' she said, 'you know, as I do, what we have been taught and what we have taught to others. We were taught that God would reveal the truth of Shardik through two chosen Vessels, a man and a woman, and that He would break those Vessels to fragments and Himself fashion them again to His purpose. I had supposed, in my stupid pride, that the woman was myself, and often I have thought that I was indeed suffering that breaking. I was wrong. It was not I, my dear girl,' she said to me. 'It was not I but another woman that He chose to be broken and whom He has now fashioned again.'"
Melathys was crying and he put his arm around her, unable to speak for the shock of surprise that filled him. Yet he was in no doubt and, as perception began to come upon him of all that her words imported, he felt like one looking out toward an unknown country half-hidden in the twilight and mist of early morning. Presently she said,
"We have to return to the Tuginda. She will need a message sent to Quiso and help with preparing for her journey. And Ankray--something must be done for him. But that wretched boy out there--"
"He's a murderer."
"I know. Do you want to kill him?"
"No."
"It's easier for me to pity him--I wasn't there. But he was a slave like the rest of them, wasn't he? I suppose he has no one at all?"
"I think we may find there are several like that. It's the unloved and deserted who get sold as slaves, you know."
"I should know."
"So should I. God forgive me! O God, forgive me!"
She checked him with a finger held to his lips. "Fashioned again to His purpose. I believe I'm at last beginning to see."
They could hear Dirion climbing the ladder. Melathys got up, bent over him and kissed his lips. Still holding her hand, he said,
"Then what are we to do?"
"Oh, Kelderek! My darling Kelderek, how many more times? It will be shown us, shown us, shown us what we are to do!"
Next day his wounds were once more inflamed and painful. He was feverish and kept to his bed, but the following morning felt well enough to sit looking out over the river in the sunlight while he soaked his arm in warm water with herbs. The herbal smell mingled with wood smoke from Dirion's fire, and some children below played and scuffled over their task of spreading nets to dry on the shore. Melathys had just finished binding his arm and tying a sling for it when suddenly they heard cheering break out some distance away on the edge of the village. There are as many kinds of cheering as of children's weeping; the sound tells plainly enough whether the cause be deep or shallow, great or small. These were not ironical cheers of derision, nor yet of sport nor of acclamation for a comrade or hero, but deep, sustained cries of joy, expressive of some long-held hope attained and relief conferred. They looked at each other, and Melathys went to the head of the ladder and called down to Dirion. The cheering was spreading through the village and they could hear feet running and men's voices shouting excitedly in Yeldashay. Melathys went down and he heard her calling to someone farther off. Noise and excitement were blazing round the house like a fire and he had almost determined to try to go down himself when she returned, climbing the ladder as lightly as a squirrel. She took his good hand and, kneeling on the floor beside him, looked up into his face.
"Elleroth's here," she said, "and the news is that the war's over: but I don't know what that means any more than you."
He kissed her and they waited in silence. Melathys laid her head on his knee and he stroked her hair, wondering to find himself so indifferent to his fate. He thought of Genshed, of the slave children, of Shara and her colored stones, of the death of Shardik and the burning raft. It seemed to matter little what might follow upon these, except that come what might he would not leave Melathys. At length he said, "Have you seen Shouter this morning?"
"Yes. At least he's no worse. Yesterday I paid a woman to look after him. She seems honest."
Some time later they heard men entering below, and then Tan-Rion speaking quickly in words they could not catch. A few moments afterward he appeared at the head of the ladder, followed by Radu. Both stood waiting, looking down at someone who was following them. There was a pause and then Elleroth climbed awkwardly into the room, stretc
hing out his ungloved right hand for help before stepping off the rungs.
Kelderek and Melathys rose and stood side by side as the Ban of Sarkid and his companions came forward to meet them. Elleroth, who was as clean and impeccably dressed as when Kelderek had last seen him in Kabin, offered his hand and after a moment's hesitation Kelderek took it, though returning the other's look uncertainly.
"We meet as friends today, Crendrik," said Elleroth. "That is, if you are willing, as I am."
"Your son is my friend," replied Kelderek. "I can truly say that. We suffered much together and believed we had lost our lives."
"So he tells me. I have heard little about it as yet, but I know that you were wounded defending him and that you probably saved his life."
"What happened," replied Kelderek hesitantly, "was--was confused. But it was Lord Shardik who laid down his life--it was he who saved us all."
"That too Radu has told me. Well, I see that I have much still to hear; and perhaps something to learn as well." He smiled at Melathys.
"Lord Kelderek has been gravely ill," she said, "and is still weak. I think we should sit down. I am only sorry that these are such rough quarters."
"Mine have been worse these two nights past," answered Elleroth cheerfully, "and it seemed no hardship in the world, I can assure you. You are a priestess of Quiso, I take it?"
Melathys looked confused and it was Kelderek who replied.
"This is the priestess Melathys, whom the Tuginda of Quiso sent as her deputy to conduct the last rites of Lord Shardik. The Tuginda was injured in Zeray and is still lying sick there."
"I am sorry to hear it," said Elleroth, "for she is honored as a healer from Ikat to Ortelga. But even she was taking too much danger on herself when she crossed the Vrako. Had I known, when she came to see me in Kabin, that she meant to go to Zeray, I would have prevented it. I hope she will soon be recovered."
"Pray God she will." replied Melathys. "I left her out of danger and better than she had been."
They sat together on the rough benches, in the gallery overlooking the Telthearna, while one of Tan-Rion's soldiers brought nuts, black bread and wine. Elleroth, who looked tired almost to the point of collapse, expressed concern for Kelderek's wounds and went on to inquire about the last rites of Shardik.
"Your soldiers did everything they could to help us," answered Kelderek. "They and the village people." Then, wishing to avoid being questioned about the details of the ceremony, he said, "You've marched from Kabin? You must have made great speed. Surely this is only the fourth day since Lord Shardik died?"
"The news was brought down the river to Zeray that evening," replied Elleroth, "and reached me in Kabin before noon of the next day. To march sixty miles in two and a half days is slow for a man whose son and heir was dead and is alive again, but then it's rough country and heavy going, as you'll know yourself."
"But you have hardly been in Tissarn an hour," said Melathys. "You should have eaten a meal and rested before troubling yourself to come here."
"On the contrary," rejoined Elleroth, "I would have come here sooner, but such is my vanity that I'm afraid I stopped to wash and change my clothes, though I confess I did not know that I was going to meet one of the beautiful priestesses of Quiso."
Melathys laughed like a girl accustomed to be teased and to tease in return.
"Then why the haste? Are Yeldashay nobles always so punctilious?"
"Yeldashay, saiyett? I am from Sarkid of the Sheaves." Then, gravely, he said, "Well, I had a reason. I felt that you, Crendrik, deserved to receive my thanks and to hear my news as quickly as I could bring both to you."
He paused, but Kelderek said nothing and after a few moments Elleroth went on, "If you still feel any anxiety on your account, I hope you will set it aside. When I told you in Kabin that we should kill you if we came upon you again, we were not to know that you would share the misery of slavery with the heir of Sarkid and play a part in saving his life."
Kelderek rose abruptly, walked a few steps away and stood with his back turned, looking out at the river. Tan-Rion raised his eyebrows and half-rose, but Elleroth shook his head and waited, taking Radu's hand and speaking quietly to him, aside, until Kelderek should have recovered his composure.
Turning at length, Kelderek said roughly, "And do you bear in mind also that it is I who brought about your son's sufferings and the little girl's death?"
"My father has heard nothing yet of Shara," said Radu.
"Crendrik," said Elleroth, "if you feel contrition, I can only be glad for it. I know that you have suffered--probably more than you can ever recount, for true suffering is of the mind and regret is the worst of it. I, too, have suffered grief and fear--for long weeks I suffered the loss of my son and believed him lost to me. Now we are all three released--he, you and I--and whether or not it was indeed a miracle, I am not so mean-spirited as to withhold gratitude from the poor bear, who came alive from the Streel, like the Lord Deparioth's own mother, or to retain any grudge against a man who has befriended my son. I say all debts are cleared by Shardik's death--his sacred death, for this we must believe it to have been. But I have another reason also for friendship between us--a political reason, if you like. There is now peace between Ikat and Bekla and even while we speak all prisoners and hostages are returning home." He smiled. "So it really wouldn't be at all appropriate, would it, for me to feel vindictive toward you."
Kelderek sat down on the bench. From the shore outside came the cries of three or four young fishermen who were launching their canoes.
"At the time when you were in Kabin," went on Elleroth, trying rather unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn of sheer exhaustion, "General Santil-ke-Erketlis was personally leading some of our troops to overtake and release a slave column traveling westward from Thettit. He succeeded, but it brought him very close to the Beklan army, which, as I dare say you know, had followed us north from the Yeldashay frontier. It was while General Erketlis was returning with the slaves he had freed that he came upon a party of Beklan officers, who were also making for Kabin--to negotiate with us. They were headed by General Zelda and their purpose was to propose an immediate truce and the discussion of terms of peace.
"Three days ago I was taking part with Erketlis in that discussion with the Ortelgans, when news arrived from Zeray of what had happened here. I left for Tissarn at once, but nevertheless I'm sure that the terms will have been agreed by now. I needn't weary you with all the details--not until later--but the main is that Yelda, Lapan and Belishba will become independent of Bekla. The Ortelgans are to retain Bekla and the remaining provinces in return for an undertaking to abolish the slave trade and to help in returning all slaves to their homes."
Kelderek nodded slowly, staring down into his wine cup and tilting it this way and that. At length he looked up at Elleroth and said,
"I'm glad the war's over and more than glad that they'll abolish the slave trade." He put a hand over his eyes. "It's good of you to have come here to tell us so promptly. If I can't make you any better answer, it's because I'm still weak and my mind's confused. I hope we can talk again--tomorrow, perhaps."
"I shall be here for some days yet," answered Elleroth, "and we'll certainly meet again, for I've one or two other notions in my head--just notions at the moment, but they might come to something. Dear me--" he craned his neck--"those piscatorial boys out there are certainly slicing up the Telthearna--I suppose it keeps them warm, poor fellows, in these bitter northern climes. And who knows? They might even catch a fish in a minute."
Soon after, he took his leave and Kelderek, finding that the meeting had left him tired, uncertain and disturbed, slept for several hours, not waking until the late afternoon.
After a few days he felt stronger and his wounded arm became somewhat less painful. He took to walking on the shore and about the village, once going almost a mile north, as far as the open country around the Gap. He had not realized what a poor village it was--thirty or forty hovels and twenty canoes
clustered about a shady, unhealthy patch of shore below a wooded ridge--that same ridge down which he had tottered on the morning of Shardik's death. There was little cultivated land, the villagers living for the most part on fish, half-wild pigs, waterfowl and any forest beasts that they could kill. There was almost no trade, the place was largely isolated and the effects of years of inbreeding were all too plain. The villagers were friendly enough, however, and he took to dropping in to their homes and talking to them about their skills and needs and the troubles of their hard, rough lives.
One afternoon, as he and Melathys were walking together outside the village, they came upon five or six of the former slave children, who were idling about among the trees. They looked warily at Kelderek, but none approached or spoke. He called out to them, went closer and did his best to talk to them as comrades--for so indeed he felt them to be--but it was not that day nor for several days after that he had the least success. In their silence and curt, unsmiling answers they differed much from the children he remembered on Ortelga. Little by little he began to understand that for nearly all, their sufferings with Genshed had been only the most recent in miserable lives of desertion, neglect and abuse. Parentless, friendless and helpless, they had been enslaved before ever they met Genshed.
From Shouter, after one or two visits, he judged it best to keep away for the time being. The boy had been injured when Shardik charged upon Genshed and neglect of his hurts had brought on a delirious fever of which, until a few days ago, he had been expected to die. He was consumed with fear and convinced that the Yeldashay intended him some cruel death; and the sight of any of those whom he had himself ill-treated intensified his guilt and panic. Kelderek left him to Melathys and her village woman, but nevertheless found himself wondering more than once what would become of him. Would he, perhaps, succeed in wandering back to Terekenalt, there to shift for himself and find a new criminal master? Or would he, before that, as he himself so clearly expected, be killed in Tissarn by those who had cause enough to hate him?
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