“You mean you anticipated the Borogoi?”
“No, no, life’s much too complicated to foresee everything. I just try to cover what’s likely. In fact as part of my general precautions I was carrying an official letter from the Head of the Quezma Department of Information, which should have made even the Borogoi drop you like a hot potato. With the Sarai intervening, it wasn’t needed."
"I give up," Rasscu said laughing. "Why on earth did you want us to come with you, Idressin? We're nothing but extra trouble. Just dump us in some quiet spot like this and go on by yourself."
"It's a nice idea, Rass, but you've still got it the wrong way round. This is your mission, you three and Tariska. I can't find the Talisman or command it; I'm just along for the ride. If anyone's entitled to a nice holiday in the country, it’s me."
Eventually of course they all rode on together, unaware of the scene being enacted behind them at that moment in For Dendak. S’Bissi was doing his best to placate an angry Tariska, who had stormed unceremoniously into his private quarters.
"Gone! What d'you mean gone? All of them?"
The trader flapped his soft hands in agitation. "Yes, my dear, as I told you. They all left in the early hours of the morning with the soldiers. But it will be alright. Harden assured me that he had matters under control and they would come to no harm."
"What about me?" The girl's voice was raised, oblivious to the danger of listening ears. "They left me behind."
In misapprehension S’Bissi began to reassure her that she would also be perfectly safe, only to be cut rudely short.
"No, you podgy oaf. I'm supposed to be with them. D'you think I'd have come on this hateful journey for my own amusement?"
Later Tariska found it hard to believe that she had used such language to her kindly host. At this moment however she was past caring, as a succession of emotions swept through her. So, Idressin thought so little of her that he had taken the others and not even woken her to explain why she was the only one excluded. And so much for Caldar's feelings for her, yes, and for Rasscu's and Berin's friendship. They were happy enough to spend time with her, even to give signs of real interest in her as a person. But when it mattered, they had all abandoned her in this place without so much as a word.
'Well, Tikka,' she said to herself bitterly, ‘at least you know where you stand. There's only one person you can rely on from now on.' "And it's not you, you jelly," she added loudly and unfairly to an uncomprehending S’Bissi. It was some days before she apologised. By then she was acquiring new habits of self-reliance, part defensive shell and part a new honesty towards herself which had been gradually emerging ever since they had left Sand City. The trader accepted the apologies gladly enough, but the growing strength and determination of his charge only reinforced the unease he was already feeling at being left to handle her by himself.
Meanwhile the fugitives, led by the tutor, rode westward for several days, zigzagging into the heart of the farmlands to the west of For Dendak.
“This is the peaceful Dendria I remember,” Idressin said with a sigh on the first sunny morning. “No police, no officials, no new regulations. Let's just enjoy ourselves." And so they did.
Chapter 17
To: OC Dendrian Police, Rodopik Sector
From: Ollex Fabarrin, Special Forces Resident, For Dendak
Your sector crime figures for last quarter appalling. This ref major crimes falling within SF oversight. 12 bank robberies: 8 Tax collectors robbed: 15 cases arson on public buildings: 50% increase on last year + 2 SENATORS ASSASSINATED!!! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON? Need your immediate answers to the following ( + relevant background) :
1.How much foreign involvement? Origin?
2.Increased banditry caused by: a)land displacements? b)new taxes? c)soft court sentences? d)plain lax bloody policing?
3.Large increase in cattle rustling. Are these animals being sold as cattle or meat? And where? On this scale something must be visible.
4.WHAT ARE YOU DOING ABOUT IT?
Your immediate reply to this enquiry is formally demanded under the Oversight Authority granted to Special Forces by the Imperial Order Number 8842.
Empire: Dendria
They often slept out under the gentle Dendrian skies. Equally often they just happened to ride up to an inn or a friendly farmhouse at the end of the day, where they would spend a convivial evening over a laden table and home-brewed beer before retiring to a proper bed. As these sheltered nights always coincided with wet weather, the three friends were certain that the tutor knew exactly where they were and was contriving their 'accidental' arrivals, but they had no intention of complaining.
Then abruptly Idressin turned them south. "The Opik valley lies ahead of us," he explained, "with a busy highway running north to Rodopik. After For Dendak it's the biggest port in Dendria and the authorities there will have had news of us already. So we'll cross the river upstream at Samna Koro, it’s much quieter.”
From then on they found themselves riding through ever more populated districts. Villages turned into towns, the lanes into roads, and the occasional farm cart into a steady stream of wagons and riders, until late one evening they came to the outskirts of Samna Koro. Idressin led them straight on into the centre of town. Night had fallen by the time they turned through an archway into a cobbled courtyard surrounded by tall dark buildings. The tutor went forward to knock at the huge wooden doors on their left.
The response was instant. A bald head poked from a window overhead, stayed just long enough for a quick glance and was abruptly withdrawn, the movements as sharp as a bird's. A few moments later one half of the doors swung silently open and a man beckoned them urgently inside.
They found themselves in a barn-like building, the vast ground floor almost full of wagons and great piles of bulging sacks. Down one side ran a line of stables, most of them occupied, but there was just room to fit in their four horses and there was fodder in plenty. When their mounts had been taken care of, they went upstairs, past a couple of darkened floors with half-seen benches and yet more piles of sacks, to the unexpected welcome of a brightly lit room and the smell of food.
By this time they could not fail to note that their host had not spoken a single word to them; even Idressin seemed to be growing increasingly puzzled, as all attempts to greet someone whom he obviously knew were met by a shake of the head and a gesture for speed. Even when they emerged into the homely atmosphere of the top floor, the man did not say a word. Signing to them to sit down, he darted off into the next room and returned with a small woman with dark brown hair and a serene and lovely face.
Crossing the room to Idressin, she greeted him in Dendrian. After a few moments of swift conversation, which elicited a glance vibrant with unspoken feeling between Idressin and the bald man, the woman turned to the other three and addressed them in fluent Shattun.
"Forgive this awkward welcome, my friends. Times are strange and difficult in poor Dendria, and in this house no less than elsewhere. My husband can no longer speak, so on his behalf I bid you be at your ease. No one will disturb us tonight and we have not forgotten how to be hospitable."
At these words the man's face broke into a smile as sweet and gentle as a child's and he came across to clasp hands warmly with each of them as they introduced themselves. His name was Gerevin and he was a miller by trade. His wife Pirith explained this much and then excused herself to the kitchen, saying that supper would be served in half an hour and that there was enough for them all. Gerevin quickly provided beer for them and then sat down to hear Idressin's account of their recent travels.
After supper Gerevin produced a flat stringed instrument, played with the fingers. The music he called forth from it was unlike anything the young travellers had heard before and at times almost brought tears to their eyes. Some of it was evocative of the Dendria they had seen these last ten days, peaceful, pastoral and enduring. Some of it was gay and lively, some hard and brutal. And throughout there was a haunting quality,
a dreamlike lament for things that were fading. Later Pirith began to sing to the music and then their tears did flow. They could not understand the words, but the feelings of loss and sorrow in that beautiful voice needed no translation.
They went to sleep in a tiny room under the eaves, leaving Idressin talking to Pirith with Gerevin sitting beside them with bird-bright eyes, his expression mirroring every turn of the conversation.
Six days they stayed in Samna Koro. The tutor had departed before dawn the morning after their arrival, leaving a message that he would be back in a few days and that they should stay out of sight in the mill. Despite their hosts' wonderful music each evening, the confinement was becoming a trial by the end of the week when Idressin returned. He had taken all four horses and returned with six ponies in their place.
"I've left them with a farmer just out of town," he said. "Mountain ponies are unusual hereabouts and we don't want to make a memorable departure. They don't look much, but they're what we'll need from now on. They'll keep going over terrain and through weather that no ordinary horse could handle.”
“Six?” Berin queried.
“Two are for supplies."
"That sounds like rough country and empty stomachs. Can't we just trot down the highway waving your letter at anyone who tries to stop us?"
"No, Berin, I'm afraid we can't. Things are worse than I thought. The reward’s out for the four of us in Rodopik too, with fair descriptions of us all and our horses, so to be safe I had to split the horses up and sell them in different places. There were a couple of checkpoints on the main Rodopik highway and random patrols on minor roads. Perhaps that’s normal in these parts nowadays, but with our descriptions published we can’t take the risk of being stopped. Travelling openly and easily isn’t an option any more."
"I can't believe," said Berin slowly, "that the Dendrians would do all this just to catch the four of us. Why? I mean is the Talisman so important in this part of the world?”
“I doubt if the people trying to catch us even give it a thought: it’s a childhood story, like it was for you. And I don’t think Kulkin could call in this kind of support, so maybe it isn’t the Talisman at all. For some reason we’ve caught the interest of someone powerful who’s pushing the authorities here to act, pushing them hard, and that kind of pressure can only be coming from Karkor itself. Let’s hope it doesn’t intensify as we get closer. Come on, this is our last night here. Let's make it a merry one."
The evening was both merry and sad. There was something about their hosts, which spoke of deep sorrow long endured, and it was impossible to be completely light of heart in their house. Some time before dawn Caldar was woken by movement nearby and saw that Idressin had entered the room with a dimmed lantern.
"What's the matter?" he whispered.
"Well there's no virtue in spending too long in bed," the tutor replied quietly, "especially when there's a search going on downstairs. I think an early start would be healthier for us."
Caldar dressed quickly, as Idressin woke the others. He didn't ask how the tutor intended to get them out of the mill unseen; he felt too stupid at this hour in the morning and thought dully that he would be like Rasscu this time and just act on trust. Gerevin was waiting for them in the main room and led them silently down one flight of stairs to the upper level of the mill. Pirith's voice came up the stairwell, raised sharply in dispute with someone on the floor below.
Beckoning them to the outer wall, the miller carefully opened a large wooden door and invited them to look out. By the pale light of a quarter moon they could make out an overhead beam and pulley system from which a rope plunged into mist below. Caldar caught a slight gleam in the darkness beneath and almost gasped when he realised they were standing on the edge of a loading bay high above the river.
"There's a boat moored at the bottom of the rope." Idressin pulled them close and spoke in a murmur. "Just slide down - we can't risk the noise of the pulley - Rass first."
Without more ado, the Tesserit leaned out, caught the hanging line and vanished into the mist. There was no splash, no commotion, as the weight came off the rope, so Berin then Caldar followed in quick succession. It was an exhilarating ride, dropping blindly towards the water and relying on the presence of the invisible boat. It was there. A large solid rowboat, which moments later Idressin was easing ever so gently out and across to the far bank.
No alarms and no lights showed in the dark bulk of the mill as it faded into the mist, and the walk through the darkened streets to the western edge of town was an anticlimax. Soon they were safely mounted and riding out into the countryside again.
"This is becoming a habit," Berin grumbled. "Getting up in the middle of the night, escaping by a whisker, and leaving without breakfast. You made out that Dendria was the peaceful part of the journey, lots of food and sleep.”
"And just what have you all been doing for the last week?" the tutor asked innocently.
Berin was silenced for a moment, but no more. "Seriously, Idressin, you know what I'm saying. Are they, whoever they are, going to be always so close on our heels? We seemed to get out of the trap very easily this morning, but it can't always be like that."
"I don't think that search had anything to do with us. It's Gerevin they were checking up on."
"Gerevin?" Berin repeated stupidly, just as the ponies went into single file along a narrow woodland trail. After half an hour of impatiently watching the tail of Idressin's mount, he trotted up alongside the tutor as soon as they emerged into a grassy lane.
"Why would they check up on Gerevin?" It was Idressin who spoke and Caldar could not help laughing as the tutor took the words out of Berin’s mouth with exact timing. "Well, Gerevin's not just a nice little miller with nimble fingers and a lovely wife. When I last saw him, he was the most famous poet and bard in Dendria. People would come for hundreds of miles to hear him sing at the summer festivals. His songs celebrated his passionate love for Dendria and thousands gathered to be transported by his words and to honour him."
"What happened?" Caldar asked, contrasting this new picture of Gerevin with the silent miller he had seen in his lonely mill.
"He didn't like what was being done to his country and to his fellow-countrymen. This is a country of farmers, as you can see. Free men who own their own land. But as the Emperor’s got older, his grip on the nobles all over the Empire has slackened. Bit by bit they’ve been stealing back the power they were forced to give up a hundred years ago, and using the coming war as an excuse they’ve already seized wide swathes of land and property.
Gerevin felt that the loss of freedom was destroying the soul of Dendria. And he said so. His songs and his poems resounded the length and breadth of the country and struck a chord in the people's hearts. So he was silenced. Two years ago, Pirith told me, they cut out his tongue and burned his poetry. His words were banned and he himself was forbidden to leave Samna Koro. He was even prohibited from leaving his house or from having visitors without permission."
The youths were horrified: ashamed too that they had taken Gerevin's hospitality for granted, when the poet had already suffered so much and had probably been running a great risk in harbouring them. For once there were no more questions when Idressin stopped.
**
For the next week the journey resumed the happy pattern they had experienced on leaving For Dendak. On the wandering route which Idressin took they encountered only easy rolling land with few and friendly inhabitants, and not a patrol in sight. Then gradually the folds in the country became hills, the farmland shrank and the woods became a forest. They dropped into a broad valley, where the loggers with their mule teams were dragging down a succession of forest giants each day and the wide track was deep with mud. They could hear the cutting on every side. After a morning in which the heavily laden pack ponies had twice become mired to their bellies and the travellers had repeatedly been forced off the track by drag teams and their enormous burdens, the tutor led them away up the north slope
on a narrow game trail to camp close to the crest of the ridge.
"You’ve really been stocking up this last week, Idressin," Caldar remarked, as they unloaded the ponies. "We must have food for a month now."
"Not the way you lads eat. No, I'm planning to call on some friends of mine within two or three weeks."
"No use asking who, I suppose?" Berin said hopefully. Seeing the tutor smile and shake his head, he went on, "Why do you tell us so little? We hardly ever know where we're going or who we're going to meet."
"You already know too much. There are people looking for us, maybe more than one lot. If any of you is captured and forced to speak, and believe me there are several ways they could do that, then the Tinker and Tariska and S’Bissi might walk straight into a trap in Razimir. That's risk enough. For you to know all our movements all the time is unnecessary and foolish."
Once again the sobering words brought them up short and conversation was quiet around the campfire.
For the first time the night felt cold. The heavy dew formed without frost, but their breath smoked gently in the still air as they stood around the campfire at daybreak having breakfast. A narrow track bordered with a carpet of tiny blue flowers wound along the crest among the straggling pines, giving them an easy ride for the next two days, high above the fogbound valleys.
The following morning the spine of the ridge rose to a rocky knoll, bare of trees, and they left the ponies while they scrambled up for a longer view. What they saw was not encouraging. Many miles ahead tremendous mountain slopes reared up into the clouds and the country in between was riven by a succession of steep ridges and profound valleys which seemed to bar access in all directions. Two miles further on their own ridge rose to a higher level in unclimbable rocky steps.
"Where now, Idressin?" Caldar asked, a little dispirited. It didn't just look like hard work: it looked almost impossible.
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