The Tears of Sisme

by Peter Hutchinson

  Stolidly the beasts lumbered ahead, even their great weight sometimes pushed bodily sideways by the wind. They went on, Tariska pointing the way and Caldar steering the oxen, the contact continuous and tiring for him now: the least inattention and they would stop or veer away downwind. The deafening, battering assault of the storm never slackened for a moment, until Caldar became convinced that they were plodding step by step out into the empty desert. There was nothing ahead of them except their own deaths.

  He pulled himself back sharply as Tariska caught hold of his arm. Communication seemed impossible in the incessant roar of the wind, but she pulled aside her shimsak and put her mouth right against his ear.

  “I’ve lost them. No sign now. Turn back.”

  Caldar registered the words distantly. The touch of Tariska’s lips on his ear had sent a burning jolt right through him. He was locked rigid with the exquisite pain of it for an instant, then suddenly the inner awareness he had experienced before opened up and the same total clarity flooded through him. Without raising his head he could see right through the swirling sand. A hundred paces upwind of them two small figures lay already half buried.

  He made no attempt to explain, just pointed into the wind and laboriously turned the reluctant oxen. Even with his new sight to guide them, it took an age for them to force their way that short distance against the full power of the Feereehan. At last they came on their target, a pathetic little mound, with pieces of ragged clothing fluttering on its surface. Underneath lay the bodies of two small children huddled together. Without pausing to check if they were dead or alive, they scooped them up and set off to carry them back to camp. There was no question of putting them on the backs of the oxen. They would simply have been whipped off by the wind.

  The return journey was an endless ordeal. Heads down, eyes closed, clinging one-handed to the oxen's harness, they stumbled on, guided only by Caldar's fading inner sight and his control of the beasts. He was fast becoming exhausted by the double effort, and when the oxen stopped yet again, he could only stand there stupidly, not knowing what else to do.

  It was Tariska who realised from the reduced force of the storm that they were back. She had no choice but to leave Caldar swaying on his feet, while she roused the people in a large wagon nearby and passed first one child and then the other inside to safety. Stopping only to make sure that the little bodies were indeed alive, she hurried back to find the youth slumped on the ground, his arm raised where it was tied to the ox's harness.

  It was still difficult to walk around even here in shelter and she did not feel strong enough to drag Caldar any distance. She would have to get one of the nearest wagons to take him in, which she did. It was crowded, but people good-naturedly made space and helped her to prop the unconscious boy up in a corner, then she forced herself to go back out into the violent dusk.

  Tired though she was, she was determined to find the parents of the children and to reassure them. Luck was with her. It turned out that the people in the big wagon knew the family and armed with their name, she soon found that the parents were preceding her along the line of the caravan, searching for their children. Hurrying on, she overtook them, two more flapping bundles, battling from wagon to wagon as she was. They had been nearing the end of a fruitless search and their relief was almost painful to witness. Tariska led them back to where she had left the children and then slipped away.

  Now that the job was done, she too felt exhausted. In a final effort she stumbled and clawed her way back to S’Bissi's wagon and wriggled back inside. The merchant was glad to see her return, but was puzzled and a little troubled when his enquiry as to whether she had been able to find Idressin elicited nothing but slightly hysterical laughter. Seeing that she had fallen asleep almost instantly, he shrugged and returned to his abacus, his source of solace and diversion in the most trying times.

  He had already recalculated the price of his stock of diamonds, having heard that one of the lighter wagons abandoned in their flight for shelter was that of a rival diamond merchant. They might recover the vehicle and its contents next day; but then they might not, and it was fun to work out how much extra that would be worth in the different cities ahead. Apart from profits, S’Bissi loved numbers. He was content, playing with his magical toy, while the canvas slammed and boomed overhead, the sand trickled into every crevice, and the smell of crowded bodies grew steadily stronger.

  Chapter 16

  To: Ollex Fabarrin, SF Resident, For Dendak

  From: Colonel Theyn

  In preparation for the new Alien Laws which will be officially promulgated later this year all Special Forces units are with immediate effect to step up the campaign of harassment against foreign nationals. Do not involve SF personnel in direct action unless strictly necessary. Proceed as before, using Border, Municipal, Army and Police personnel as your agents, and when appropriate, any discontented civilian groups also.

  Our current aims are:

  1. To encourage aliens to leave. At one stroke we will be rid of useless mouths to feed as well as possible subversive elements if war is declared.

  2. To separate those that remain from the general population by driving them to band together for mutual protection. Once grouped and isolated, they will be easily processed for internment or forced labour when the time comes.

  The border is to remain open until further notice, although all foreign traders must be issued with the new Temporary Visas. Any actual reduction in trade at this time would cause serious political repercussions at the highest level. The next phase of restrictions will be put into effect when we declare Martial Law.

  Approach to Dendria

  Around dawn the storm moved on. In the sudden calm the caravan slowly came to life. People clambered out of their close confinement to find the sand drifted half way up the wagon wheels. Some of the animals seemed to be buried, but a quick shake and a heave and they rose unscathed.

  As the travellers began to scurry to and fro, searching out their friends, looking for possessions, digging out the wagons, it was clear that they had been fortunate. With luck and with the skill of their Caravan Master, it seemed that everyone had survived. Two of the abandoned wagons were found and were reshaped on the spot to make one roadworthy vehicle, to be shared by both owners. The other four, which had been left in the open, had blown completely away. The diamond merchant spent all morning in a long and fruitless ride far downwind and discovered not even a plank or a wheel, let alone his precious cargo. S’Bissi was most sympathetic.

  By midday everyone was ready to move. The Caravan Master sorted out the proper order of march again and they made the short trip to the next water. The desert surface had been rising imperceptibly all the way from the Pinnacles, and when they came to the rim of the pass, the first-timers were surprised to see the ground falling away below them into a valley dotted with cactus and sparse clumps of grass. Coming from the arid wastes behind, their eyes were drawn inexorably to the spreading line of greenery further down, and men and animals needed no urging to press ahead. Within one hour they were travelling beside running water, within two they were camped in a broad meadow bordering a healthy stream. True the grass was tough and thin over the sand, but after the last few weeks it seemed like heaven.

  Tariska, who always put first things first, was busy trying to wash the sand out of her hair, when she was accosted by a stranger.

  It was a small man with lively brown eyes in a sharp-featured, but pleasant face. She did not recognise him and could not recall ever having seen him with the caravan before. By his dress he was neither merchant nor servant, and she was intrigued. The man waited politely while she tied her hair in a quick plait, and then explained his presence.

  He was the father of the two children she had rescued the day before, when he had been no more than a vague shape in the noisy gloom. Tintrip and his wife were acrobats, and the family was one of many who walked near the back of the caravan, carrying all their possessions on a donkey. The animal h
ad panicked and run off during the caravan's final dash for shelter, and he had given chase, just as his wife had been called to help a neighbour injured in a fall. He and his wife had ended up in separate columns for that last half mile, each believing that the children were safe with the other. It had been a terrible period when they began to realise that Shek and Milaiya might actually be lost. Even now tears stood in his eyes at the memory. They would in time forget the storm, he said, but never their awful dread.

  Shek, who was eight, was already up and about. Milaiya, the tiny four year old Tariska had carried, was alright, but had spent most of the day asleep. Tintrip would be honoured if Tariska would come and meet the family that evening or at any other time she chose. He could not comprehend how she had been able to rescue the children, and they were all eager to hear the story, so that it could become a treasured memory.

  It dawned on Tariska that Tintrip had no knowledge of Caldar's part in the affair and for a brief moment she toyed with the idea of taking all the credit for herself. But it wouldn't be right to make a joke of something that mattered so much to these people, so she said she would definitely come and see them soon, along with her friend who had been with her on the rescue.

  As Tintrip left, Tariska realised that she hadn't sought Caldar out that day, even to check that he was alright. She had slept most of the time herself, or dozed in pleasurable recollection of what they had achieved. Thinking more clearly about it now, she wondered what had alerted her to the children’s situation in the first place. And then when she herself was lost, how had Caldar managed to find them and then to guide them all unerringly back? A little shiver ran down her back at how fine the line had been between rescue and disaster; once started nothing could have saved them if the youth had faltered.

  She walked back to the wagon shared by Rasscu and Caldar, and found Idressin helping the Tesserit to unload the stock and clear out the sand from inside.

  "Is Caldar about?" she asked innocently.

  Idressin frowned at her, indicating a group of drivers nearby with a flick of his head.

  "Don't know him. Rasscu and Sitch run this wagon for me. Perhaps someone else could help."

  Tariska rolled her eyes at what she considered a silly game. "Alright. Where's Sitch?"

  "I don't know," the tutor replied equably. "I thought you might be able to tell me."

  She stared at the pair of them in disgust, "Fine friends. He almost killed himself yesterday to save a couple of children in the storm, and all you care about is how many grains of sand have got in among your rolls of silk. It means nothing to you that you haven't seen him since last night and he might be lying somewhere really ill."

  "Oh, he's alright. I'd know if he wasn't. I just don't know exactly where he is."

  Tariska caught the sharp reply she was about to make and turned away. She prided herself on being clear-headed and fair, and it was obvious enough that if Caldar was in fact suffering, she could have helped him herself.

  "Tikka." It was her father's voice behind her. The tone and inflection were unmistakable. She whirled round and found herself transfixed by Idressin's eyes. There was kindness in his gaze, but also an implacable purpose that made her want to run away.

  For his part the tutor knew very well that something strange had been affecting the girl all the way from Suntoren. For some reason she was not prepared to talk to him about it, which was a pity; of them all she was hardest for him to read. He had used a little trick now to penetrate her defences and he could see that whatever it was, it had faded since Tarkus; only the faintest shadow remained to his examination.

  He released her and said in his normal light tone, “That was a courageous thing you did yesterday, you two. Foolish, but courageous. I thought he was bad enough on his own, but two of you!" He gave a short laugh and turned back to help Rasscu, shaking his head.

  To Tariska’s alarm she found Caldar still apparently unconscious in the wagon. He had never woken up all day said the carpenter who owned the vehicle. He himself had been so busy with running repairs throughout the caravan, he had only looked in on the boy once or twice. In fact he had to go off again, right now, to fix a cracked axle and would she mind taking a look at him by herself.

  It was the job of a moment to establish that he was breathing easily and seemed to be neither chilled nor sweating. After that, she sat on a stool and observed him for a while.

  A dirty boy in dirty clothes. Sand was encrusted in his hair, eyebrows, ears, nostrils, almost everywhere she could see. But she knew how the sand had got there and she had shared those desperate moments with him. Perhaps if she could put aside the automatic reactions he seemed to arouse in her - the simple farm boy she looked down on, the teachers' pet singled out as someone special by the Tinker and Idressin, the friend for whom Berin would clearly give his life - she could just treat him as the companion who had believed her and steadfastly been at her side in danger. She frowned. Of course, he had done a little more than that, which was part of the trouble. He seemed to have some unusual abilities, but then so did she. Sudden memories came to her of her Minzin Dahka, when the Teller had apparently predicted an unusual life for Caldar as well for Tariska herself. Funny, all the way from Sand City together on this extraordinary journey and she had never thought about that till now. Maybe they did have something in common. An attraction to danger?

  Caldar groaned. In a moment Tariska was down on her knees beside him ready to help, but he just turned on his side and started snoring. Well, enough was enough. A night and a day was plenty of time for anyone to sleep. A quick visit to G'Shenni's fire produced a bowl of broth and some bread. Snores still sounded from the carpenter's wagon as she returned, to be terminated abruptly by a grunt and a groan as she gave the sleeper a sharp dig in the ribs.

  "Mm. Mmm? What? Who's that?" Caldar sat up, only half-awake, blinking through the sand still lodged on his eyelids.

  "It's me, Tariska . . . Tikka," she corrected herself. She was going to be friendly now. "I've brought you some broth."

  "Oh, Tikka," Caldar reached out instinctively for her hand, not for the broth, as memories of the storm came flooding back. "Are the children alright? Did we get them back?"

  "Yes, yes." She grinned at his needless anxiety. "They're fine and they're back with their parents."

  "I can't hear the wind. Is the storm over?"

  "I should hope so." She laughed. "You've been asleep nearly twenty four hours. We've crossed the pass and we're camped by a running stream now, yes, a real stream. You could even have a wash, if you're brave enough." She gently disengaged her hand. "Here. I didn't go and fetch this broth just to let it get cold."

  Caldar took a spoonful out of the bowl, discovered that he was really hungry and demolished the rest with remarkable speed. While he was eating, Tariska told him how she had found the parents and then about Tintrip's invitation.

  "It's strange," she went on. "They've been there all the time, all the entertainers and the tradesmen who travel at the back, yet I've never really noticed them before. I didn't know this man was a carpenter either until tonight. When I got him to take you in in all that confusion, his was just the nearest wagon."

  "I want to thank you for that . . .," Caldar began, when she cut him short.

  "Don't say it. After what happened, it was nothing. You believed me, Caldar, that was the first thing for me that night. Then it was my turn to trust you. And although we could have died, we didn't. I don't think I'll ever …..." She stopped, lost for words amid the familiar tangle of emotions towards him. Then she smiled. "Yes, I will. But the next time I’m beastly to you, just remind me about the storm."

  Caldar lay back, arms behind his head and contemplated this new person he had never met before. It was as if some invisible barrier had dropped away and every feature of her small face suddenly leaped into focus.

  "How did you find the children, Caldar? And the way back? I never thought about that when we set off. We’d have been lost and buried out there if….
" She gave a little shiver at the memory.

  Caldar was unprepared for the question. He roused himself from the study of her face, and said in a bantering tone, "I'll tell you if you tell me how you knew they were in trouble in the first place."

  She thought for a moment. "Alright, but not now. I'll come back tomorrow night, an hour or so after we camp, and we'll go and see Tintrip and his family. Now I'd better go back to take my proper place," she said it with some of her usual scorn, "at S’Bissi's supper. You've no idea how boring it is, I'd much rather stay here with you."

  She stopped and looked for a moment as if she would rather those last words had not slipped out. Then they both laughed at the same moment. Caldar held out his hand again, which she clasped a little uncertainly.

  "Friends?" he said.

  "Friends" she nodded, then turned and climbed quickly out of the wagon, while Caldar lay back, feeling very happy and vaguely wondering whether he ought to have a wash before it got dark.

  Rasscu and Berin and Idressin all demanded the full story from Caldar at different times, until he almost got tired of telling it. The tutor had joined them on the broad wagonner's seat the following afternoon as Rasscu drove down the stony track into ever more verdant country. The dry spiny vegetation of the desert had given way to scrubby bushes, and then slowly the first stunted pines had begun to appear. Now they were surrounded by thin stands of trees and the stream was fast becoming a river.

  “Well, magician, you certainly know how to keep a low profile. So much for us sneaking into the Empire unnoticed.”

  Caldar looked at him in dismay. “What d’you mean? Are people talking about us?”

  “They’re talking about you right enough,” Idressin replied, serious-faced. “It’s the caravan’s favourite topic, that and the value of the diamonds spilled in the sand back there. Tariska’s a witch and you’re either an idiot or a descendant of the Greywithen magicians.”