by Roger Taylor
‘May I look at his hand?’ Nertha asked into the ensuing silence.
Atelon glanced at Dacu, who nodded, then he looked at Pinnatte for his permission. The young man gave no sign but held out his hand to Nertha. She smiled at him and began removing the bandage. Her face lit with approval as she did so. ‘This is as neat as anything I can do,’ she said. ‘And I take some small pride in my bandaging. I gather you’ve had some training as a physician.’
‘I know a little about healing,’ Atelon replied non-committally.
Nertha’s face was studiously blank as she finally exposed the hand, though there was a tightness about the edges of her mouth. Pinnatte’s fingers were clawed and rigid and the back of his hand was badly misshapen.
‘What happened here?’ she asked Atelon quietly but very firmly. ‘This is more than a graze and an infection, this looks as if it’s been under a wagon wheel.’
‘A Sierwolf bit it,’ Atelon replied flatly.
‘What?’ Tirke exclaimed.
‘A Sierwolf.’
Dar-volci’s deep voice cut through the pending confusion. ‘You shouldn’t be too surprised, we’ve told you often enough that there are many of His creatures still lurking in the depths.’
‘Yes, but . . .’
‘Dar-volci fought it. Killed it.’
It was Pinnatte. From his general manner, a more faltering voice might have been expected, but he spoke quite clearly, albeit with obvious difficulty. He had the hard-edged accent typical of the street citizens of Arash-Felloren.
Dar-volci chuckled darkly. ‘I did, too. Foul piece of work that it was.’ He spat into the fire which replied with a hissing cloud of steam and a few half-hearted sparks. ‘Mind you, it was both a privilege and a pleasure to cut chunks out of such an abomination.’
‘Where in the name of pity did a Sierwolf come from?’ Dacu demanded of Atelon, again visibly disturbed.
‘There are tunnels and caves under the city. As far as we can tell, the Kyrosdyn somehow captured it down there to fight in the animal pits. But it escaped and became linked with Pinnatte.’
‘Linked?’ Dacu queried.
‘I was it, it was me,’ Pinnatte said painfully. He offered no further explanation. Atelon made a sign to Dacu not to question the young man.
‘Something to do with what they’d done to him – or what he’d become.’
‘Yet it attacked him?’ Nertha said.
‘It bit him when he intervened to save my life,’ Atelon said. ‘I’ll tell you about that later, too.
The atmosphere around the fire was uneasy.
‘And can Pinnatte still use the Power and move between the worlds?’ Thyrn asked hesitantly.
Atelon shook his head. ‘No. His condition was as unstable as it was dangerous.’ He picked up his plate. ‘What happened to him was more improbable than me throwing this on to the rocks over there and having it land on its edge and stay perfectly balanced. Even if it happened it wouldn’t be for long, would it? If things had happened differently he’d probably be dead now – or possessed. Fortunately, they didn’t. As it is, he’s normal – whatever normal might mean – though I’m afraid he’s lost most of the use of his hand. And he’s tormented in ways I don’t seem to be able to help him with. Which is why I’m taking him to see Hawklan. There’s nothing for someone in his condition in Arash-Felloren.’
Tongue protruding slightly, Nertha was re-bandaging Pinnatte’s hand. ‘It’s certainly a nasty injury,’ she said. ‘But I’ve seen worse. I think, with a little exercise, we might be able to get some movement back into it. If you want to try.’ She smiled inquiringly at Pinnatte who nodded almost imperceptibly.
As she released the young man’s hand and sat back, Dar-volci sidled around the fire and flopped down against her. Without thinking, she began to stroke him. After a moment, he dropped his head into her lap and closed his eyes.
‘I see what you mean about your Accounting being a long one,’ Dacu said to Atelon. He looked round at the others. ‘So much seems to be happening. Wait until you hear what Vredech and Thyrn have to say.’ He rolled his shoulder as if it were troubling him. ‘So many questions. And all so . . .’ He let out a noisy breath, then slapped his knees briskly. ‘But everything in its time. That’s for then, this is now. What were the two of you doing down here, anyway? I presume you didn’t come looking for trouble.’
‘We certainly didn’t,’ Atelon replied ruefully. ‘And more than once I was nearly heading back for home, I can assure you. And at speed. But . . .’ He shrugged.
‘Another one with the gift,’ Vredech said to Dacu wryly, hoping to lighten the Goraidin’s mood. Atelon looked at him quizzically. ‘It was something we were talking about the other day,’ Vredech explained. ‘We all seem to have the gift of not standing idly by in the face of wickedness.’
Dacu accepted the gesture. ‘Vredech’s a priest. He exercises the gift by virtue of a higher moral authority. You and I just don’t know any better,’ he said provocatively.
Atelon smiled broadly. The exchange told him a great deal about this disparate party that had descended on him so unexpectedly. ‘Always looking for a fight, eh, warrior?’ he said. ‘Take no notice of him, Vredech. A few more people with that particular gift wouldn’t go amiss in Arash-Felloren. If ever there was an example of what we can descend to, that place is a good signpost.’
‘So we gathered,’ Dacu said. ‘So what were you doing there?’
Atelon looked rueful. ‘Now you mention it, I’d almost forgotten, it seems so trivial now – and a long time ago.’ He drew out the word ‘long’, then he stretched luxuriously, easier for having told at least part of his tale, despite its grim implications. ‘We came across crystals being sold at the Gretmearc – which was a surprise, to say the least. Andawyr was concerned. He asked us to see if we could find where they were coming from.’ He gave a guilty moue. ‘He’s due for a shock. They all are.’
Dacu’s brow furrowed. ‘What are these things – these crystals?’ he said, with a hint of irritation. ‘I’d never even heard of them before I came here. And what’s the Cadwanol’s interest in them?’
Atelon turned round to root in the pack he was leaning on. From it he produced a small flat box which he opened and held out for inspection. In it lay two rows of large many-faceted jewels. They were all different colours and they glittered seductively even in the firelight.
Nertha leaned forward with an enthusiastic ‘Ooo,’ but before she could touch any of them, Pinnatte reached out and closed the box. The movement was silent but determined. His face was pained.
‘Sorry,’ Atelon said to him. ‘That was thoughtless of me.’ He dropped the box back in his pack, leaving Nertha frowning at him, her ‘Ooo’ now a disconsolate ‘Oh.’
‘He can’t even stand to look at them now. Not long ago, like many another in Arash-Felloren, I suspect there’s little he wouldn’t have done to acquire those.’
‘No,’ Pinnatte said, his eyes fixed on Nertha. ‘Couldn’t sell. Too many others.’ He ran a finger across his throat.
Atelon nodded understandingly. ‘There’s apparently a hierarchy amongst the thieves in the city. The greater steal from the lesser.’ He tapped his pack. ‘And there’s more than enough in that box for someone to kill for – enough to give them financial security for a lifetime.’
‘Why are they so valuable?’ Dacu asked.
‘They’ve many uses,’ Atelon replied. ‘More than we ever thought, to be sure. As for their value, I don’t really understand how or why, but much of that seems to be arbitrarily maintained by some kind of arrangement between the Kyrosdyn, the crystal traders and the people who control the miners. One of Arash-Felloren’s few redeeming features is that it’s so big, so crowded, that no one faction or individual has ever controlled it and the people there set great store by that. So even the Kyrosdyn with their wealth and their skill in using the Power have to use cunning and stealth to achieve anything they want.’
‘What do they u
se them for?’ Dacu pressed. ‘Come to that, what do you use them for?’
‘Mainly we study them. It was trying to understand them which led us to realize there could be other worlds around us. They can change the characteristics of space itself, and even time . . .’ Dacu’s raised eyebrows halted the explanation. Atelon gave a worldly sigh and raised his own eyebrows in retaliation. ‘Do you want me to get technical?’ he demanded.
‘Just being sceptical,’ Dacu returned, reminding him of his advice to Thyrn.
‘You’ve used the Slips to move about the Cadwanen, haven’t you?’ Atelon continued.
‘Before you closed them, yes. Never liked them, though. Now you’re here, now you’re there – creepy.’ He gave a laboured shudder. ‘And all to save a little time.’
‘Well, that’s as may be. Andawyr used one to escape from the Gretmearc when he and Hawklan were attacked once, though I doubt anyone but him could have done it. But they use crystals. It was when we began to learn more about them that we stopped using them.’
Dacu pursed his lips doubtingly. ‘Andawyr told me he stopped you using them because you were all getting too fat and idle.’
‘Just our great leader’s little joke, that’s all,’ Atelon rebutted, defensively. ‘He wouldn’t want to worry you.’ Then he was serious. ‘It’s the same with using the Power generally. The more we’ve learned, the more circumspect we’ve become about using it.’
Dacu nodded. ‘Why were you surprised when you found crystals being sold? How did you come by yours?’
‘Ethriss gave them to us, but no one knows how he came by them. Insofar as anyone ever thought about it, it was always assumed he’d created them just for us. It all seems rather naïve now.’
‘Well, if these things are being mined, then, in a manner of speaking, perhaps he did create them. He was the first of the Guardians,’ Dacu offered.
Atelon gave a self-deprecating laugh. ‘It’s a nice thought but I’m afraid we’re beyond the help of pedantry on this. The fact is we didn’t think about them, we took them for granted, and we’ve no idea where they came from. Finding them for sale on a market stall was more than a surprise, actually, it was a considerable shock. As if you might have come across Hawklan’s sword casually dumped in the clutter at the back of a blacksmith’s shop.’ He half turned towards his pack. ‘Oddly enough, though, while they might be dug out of the ground like any other precious stone, my feeling – and it’s only a feeling, I’ll admit – is that they’re made things – that the many uses to which they’re put are simply an inadvertent consequence of some deeper purpose. Something even Ethriss didn’t understand. The way they can be used to manipulate the Power, I can’t shake from my mind the idea that they’re intended for use as some kind of a weapon.’
Dacu watched the Cadwanwr thoughtfully. ‘Trust your judgement, Atelon,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t hesitate to. The light will break through eventually, you know that.’
Nertha’s face had darkened as she listened to this conversation. The image of Pinnatte silently closing the box returned to highlight what Atelon was saying about the crystals.
‘Are those things dangerous now?’ she asked, pointing to his pack.
‘They can be,’ Atelon replied. ‘If you’re sensitive to them – particularly the green ones. That was Andawyr’s main concern when he found we weren’t the sole possessors of them. There are lots of people in Riddin, Fyorlund and Orthlund who’ve got some aptitude for using the Power and given that, even if it’s a scarcely noticeable trait, then an accidental misuse of a crystal can do them a great deal of harm.’
‘How?’
Nertha delivered her question like a punch and Atelon floundered momentarily before managing to gather together a reply.
‘Forgive me, it’s difficult without knowing how you approach your healing but, put simply, the Power underlies the energy that suffuses us and just as the crystals can focus and transform the Power so they can do the same to this energy. Consequences range from simple contact burns to ulcers to a permanent imbalance of the body’s ability to mend itself.’
‘Fascinating. We’d heard they were used in medicines,’ Nertha said. ‘But I can see why you were concerned.’
They fell silent.
Dar-volci opened a bleary eye, gave a small, explosive sneeze, then closed it again as Nertha continued stroking him.
Night filled the valley, and stars could be seen between thin, slowly drifting shreds of cloud. Now and then, a distant animal cry echoed through the darkness. The fire burned a quiet red and the occasional soughing hint of urgent night-bird wings came down to the silent group.
Suddenly Pinnatte pointed to Vredech. ‘Your tale,’ he said. He flicked his ear. ‘Listening.’
The gesture and his manner caused a crackle of amusement around the group. Endryk prodded the fire into life and threw on some more wood, sending up a flurry of sparks which briefly rivalled the stars.
It was much later by the time Vredech and Thyrn had recounted their own strange stories and fatigue was beginning to take its toll. Pinnatte was the first to succumb, but the others did not remain by the fire for long after Nertha and Atelon had helped him to bed.
The next day, neither Pinnatte nor Vredech could be woken.
Chapter 18
The raven cocked its head on one side as it examined first Marna, then Farnor. It craned forward as if to examine Farnor particularly thoroughly. Shimmering rainbow colours scattered and rippled across its shining plumage as it moved. Then it tapped its wooden leg on the stone coping and turned its attention to the Goraidin.
‘Dear boys, dear girls, how nice to see you all again,’ it said in a deep and cultured voice. ‘And such a surprise. I was just in the area . . . visiting a friend . . . when I noticed this small army riding determinedly over the bridge. Invaders, I thought, as one would. Doubtless intending to bombard us with Eirthlundyn ribbons and laces. So I thought I’d better pop down and shoo you all away. And here you all are. Delightful. And quite timely, too.’
Overcoming her initial shock, Marna grasped Farnor’s arm excitedly. ‘A talking crow,’ she exclaimed. The Goraidin winced in anticipation. The raven turned slowly and stared at her.
‘And you’ve brought guests with you. How nice. Just what we need – young people,’ it said acidly. Then it turned back to Yengar and spoke in a loud whisper. ‘Do tell them not to gape, dear boy, it gives me this overwhelming urge to fill their little mouths with worms. It’s a fatherhood thing, I think. Quite disconcerting in its way.’
‘Marna, Farnor, allow me to introduce you to Gavor,’ Yengar said. ‘Hawklan’s companion. We’ve told you about him.’
Farnor’s eyes widened as he realized to whom he was being introduced. Gavor had featured highly in the Goraidins’ fireside accounts of the war of the Second Coming.
His hand extended automatically to hover vaguely in front of the raven before dropping awkwardly to his side.
‘It’s an honour to meet you . . . sir,’ he said, uncertain how to address the bird.
Gavor bowed his head by way of acknowledgement. ‘Farnor, eh? Now this is a surprise. Given the odd names you people choose for yourselves, I’ll warrant you must be Farnor Yarrance. The young man that Memsa Gulda met in the Forest. Delighted to meet you. I’ve heard such a lot about you. The Memsa mentions you often. She was most concerned at having to leave you the way she did. Said you were lost and full of darkness. There’s something odd about you, for sure, though I can’t put a claw on it, but you seem bright enough – for a fledgling. Anyone who stops to watch the river going by can’t be all bad, can they? And, to be honest, the Memsa’s apt to be a touch doom-laden at times.’ Before Farnor could reply, Gavor was speaking to Marna.
‘You’ll be his mate, I imagine. I must say, you’re . . .’
‘I am not!’ Marna interrupted indignantly. She flicked a thumb towards the smirking Goraidin. ‘I came with them.’ The thumb moved to Farnor. ‘He . . . just followed, later.’
> Gavor flapped his wings and hopped back nervously in the face of this powerful denial. ‘Sincerest apologies, dear girl,’ he said. ‘But an understandable error on my part. I was about to remark how attractive you are and how fortunate he was to have won the charms of someone so lovely.’ Marna’s jaw dropped, prompting Gavor to add with weary confidentiality, ‘When your mouth’s not hanging open, that is, dear girl. Do take care, it really doesn’t do you justice.’
Yengar intervened protectively. ‘You’re a long way from home, Gavor.’
‘Just giving the old wings a stretch as it were. Didn’t realize how far I’d come. Out for a little solitude. Anderras Darion’s rather crowded these days. It seems the whole world’s being drawn to it. It’s getting to be positively raucous.’
‘I’m sure Memsa Gulda will bring some semblance of order to things,’ Yrain said. ‘How long has she been there?’
‘Well, you know how it is with the Memsa. Disappears for years on end – gone forever, as far as we knew – gone to take her place in legend. Then she’s back and picking up the last conversation she was having with you as if she’d never been away. And she is, as you quite rightly surmise, bringing order to things. Which is one of the other reasons I thought I’d pop out for a while.’
His desolate tone prompted some laughter.
‘And how are you, sky prince?’ Yrain asked. ‘Have you missed us?’
With an alarming flurry, Gavor took off and propelled himself from the parapet to land on her shoulder. ‘Unceasingly, dear girl. How could I not, with such radiance gone from the castle? You’ve been constantly in my mind. Both of you,’ he added with a hasty glance at Jenna.
‘Gavor, how you’ve avoided the pot for so long defeats me,’ Yrain said, trying unsuccessfully to remove him.