After a moment's reflection Rasscu nodded and then addressed their irrepressible guide, who was faking an exaggerated yawn at their hesitation.
"Harol, I need to ask you something." She sat up straight and composed her face in a grave expression to match his serious tone. "Why do you support the rebels?"
It was not the question she was expecting; but sensing that they had come to some kind of threshold where only the truth would do, she answered simply, "Sammar's my cousin. And my family come from Disthi about two hundred miles south of where we are now. They're all rebels. It's just my father who makes it difficult."
She sighed. "He put a lot of work into the business when he was younger, particularly on this route from Sikoon to Karkor. Things went well and he became known in the capital. Then he married a Karkor woman, daughter of a minor nobleman. No one in the family had ever married a nujak before, a northerner. It's worked out well enough I suppose, though the cow’s made it plain I’m not welcome in their house. She’s changed him too, doesn’t approve of him going on the road; he spends most of his time in Karkor now and takes her line in disapproving of the rebellion. I know he'll try to get Sammar released, but he's got no pull at court and trying too hard will just get him into trouble himself."
She started to cry again and stopped herself with a few big gulps and sniffs. "Shit. I hate it when I do that. Crying's not going to help. Anyway," she turned a falsely bright face to Rasscu, "does that answer your wizardship?"
"Well enough," the Tesserit replied, peculiarly moved by this courageous little girl who seemed to be facing a hard world alone and unflinching. He drew a deep breath. "It’s time you knew about us, Harol. We need your help and it’s only fair you go into it with your eyes open. We're going to Karkor to find one of the Talismans.”
The name produced no sign of recognition from the girl, so he continued. “I don’t know anything about the Ajeddak Stone, but if it’s from the gods, it sounds more like a curse than a blessing. The Talismans are different. When the gods wanted to help humans back at the beginning of time, they gave them these gifts….”
“Korully.”
“What?”
“Korully. The jewel the gods gave to Alaais. But it’s just a…”
“…story? Story or not, Harol, and whatever name you know it by, that’s what we’re on our way to find.” For the moment the Tesserit put aside his own uncertainties and related their objective as fact. "The Talisman’s been invisible for over a thousand years and it's supposed to reappear in Karkor very soon. We need to be there when it does."
It was almost comic to watch disbelief and curiosity warring inside the little guide, seeking expression. Curiosity won. "Where's it going to appear then? Karkor's a bloody big place. And why do you have to be there?" The emphasis was on the 'you'.
"It’s going to arrive somewhere round the palace. Yes, good choice, isn't it? And we have to be there, Harol, because the Talisman may vanish again if we're not."
Rasscu stopped, uncertain how to explain their own position as part of a group. It was Caldar who went on, "The Talisman can only be looked after by one person, the unique person whose job it is, the Guardian; if the Guardian’s not there when it arrives, it may just fade away again. There were four of us when we set off and one of us is going to be the Guardian, we don’t know which. Then we got separated in Razimir. So Rass and I are trying to get to Karkor in time and we have to find our friends when we get there.”
His words died away into the night sky, as the girl sat hunched forward, staring into the fire. After five long minutes, she picked up a nearby stick and began to poke the burning logs, muttering to herself "I dunno, I dunno."
With a sudden move she fixed Rasscu with a bright eye and said fiercely, "Is this stuff true?" Then in self-disgust "Ah hell, why am I asking you? You're going to say it is anyway." Another long silence. "Look, I don't understand any of this. I never heard anything like it before and it makes my head spin thinking about it. Mostly I don't give a shit about your Talisman. If it's anything like the Stone, I hope it vanishes and never comes back. But there's something about you two, something sort of hopeful. So I'll sleep on it and try to make sense of it all in the morning."
In fact she didn't bring the subject up again until the following night, when once again they were seated round the campfire, watching supper bubbling away under Rasscu's supervision. Although all of them were aware of unresolved questions between them, they had travelled many miles together now and the silence was companionable. Harol softly hummed a little tune over and over again, then began to chant in a nasal sing-song tone.
Nahan Korully, chiskan far,
Nahan Korully, chiskan skar,
Nahan Korully, chiskan ram,
Sersum iskar, sersum ifar.
She went through it twice, more strongly the second time, then stopped and looked at the others. "I had a job remembering the words. It's been nagging me all day, something about korully. My grandma taught me that when I was little. Don't laugh. That was years and years ago. Want to know what it means? Using your words, it's -
Talisman come, Guardian one,
Talisman come, Guardian three,
Talisman come, Guardian two,
Peace for three, peace for one.
It doesn’t sound so good in Shattun. Anyway that's it."
She seemed almost embarrassed at revealing this little glimpse of her childhood. Maybe, thought Caldar as he wandered off to find more firewood, the child she had been so recently didn't fit easily into the tough new person she was trying to become.
"What’s the Guardian supposed to do with this thing then?" she suddenly shot at Rasscu, who was busy tasting the stew.
He held up his free hand to forestall any further questions, while he finished burning his tongue, and then sat back and replied calmly, "We don’t really know." He held her eye for a moment, then grinned. "We’re giving you some feeble answers, aren’t we?”
"All I really want to know is whether it's true. You said it’s completely different to the Stone, something that’d bring hope instead of more fear. I can’t grasp this thing about it coming from the gods, but who cares anyway? If it arrives and it's real and it's different, that'll do me, and I suppose I've got a sneaky hope the Guardian can use it to save Sammar too. So what's going to happen to everything else when this thing appears, I mean to the Emperor, to the Stone, to all of us? An earthquake? Or is no one apart from you going to notice?"
"I don't know, Harol," Rasscu replied.
“D’you know anything at all?” she challenged scornfully.
"I wasn't around a thousand years ago or whenever the last Talisman appeared. As far as I know, what’s coming may be all you’re asking for, with the power to change everybody’s lives, though I guess that’s going to take some time.”
"It won’t be much help to Sammar then.” She shrugged off her obvious disappointment. “But one thing at a time. I'll make bloody sure that you're in Karkor for the Equinox, then we'll see."
"Harol, why were you so insistent on arriving for the Festival yourself?"
"'Cos that's when they make a big deal of sending people to the Stone. The first thing is when they wheel it out of the temple and let people see it. Then they shut it up again and cart in anyone they've decided to make an example of. The Stone either ‘pardons’ them, that means it’s turned them into a vegetable like my father’s friend, or ‘condemns’ them, which means they get executed on the Day of Atonement at the end of the Festival. They make sure that everyone knows what's happening too, as a frightener to keep them all in line." She shook herself as if to get rid of some horrid clinging substance and gave a weak laugh. "Hell, it makes me feel creepy just talking about it. Let's talk about something nice. Tell me about the cannibals. I've been dying to ask you about it, but all this other stuff sort of got in the way."
"You're right," Rasscu took her up. "Let's forget about Karkor for a bit. Though just before I tell you about the superhuman wizardry of my
young friend here, I suggest you don’t mention the Talisman or magic when other people are about. It might make things dangerous, well, more dangerous than they are already."
"Yeah, magic’s a dirty word in Karkor. Ajeddak’s supposed to have a monopoly on sorcery and all that. Don't worry, big chief. My lips will be sealed. Though from the amount of traffic on the highway I don't think we're going to be talking to many strangers."
The next day proved her wrong. They were passing through a rocky defile, heads down in the blustery rain, when a troop of soldiers came trotting towards them from the other direction. The officer in charge stopped them and exchanged words with an increasingly exasperated Harol, who then turned to translate into Shattun.
"This pompous git says the road's been closed for two days to everyone who hasn't got a pass from the military. I said no one had told us anything about it, and how were we supposed to get a pass, when they were the first soldiers we'd seen. So Colonel Halfwit here says they're issuing passes in Gozgo, that's the last town we passed, and why didn't we get one. So I said maybe the jolly soldier boys were all tucked up in bed when we rode through at six this morning. We didn't see a bloody soul. Anyway we're up shit creek. No pass, no go."
"It's a little more serious than that, madam," a courteous voice interrupted. It was the officer, young, but with a cool and competent air, and speaking Shattun. "We're under instructions to detain anyone in the area without authorisation, not just turn them back. So until your identities have been confirmed, you will all have to be our guests. And by the way, it's Captain Halfwit, not Colonel."
With a small smile he gave a crisp order and his troop surrounded the travellers.
"Well, at least we're going in the right direction," Rasscu commented wryly to his companions as they headed off eastwards into the rain.
Sarai Plateau
"Is this all?" The Tinker sat on an outcrop of burning white rock. In front of him the shale slope fell away into a stony valley, then rose to the next ridge, a hard white edge against a hard blue sky. On the shale stood a group of ten black-clad figures, the tallest of them a little forward of the rest.
Remakkib's gaze did not flinch. "This is all, Sholomik. After last night…." He made a small hopeless gesture with his hands. "It was difficult. These men know they will not be able to return to their bhereths. But then," he smiled, "they know they will probably die, so the problem of return is not so great."
"Their deaths will be of small use to me," the old man remarked flatly. "As I said at the gathering, the Zeddayah and his companions will probably be trying to break out of Karkor with the amulet in a month's time. There were thirty thousand troops in and around the city at Winterturn and they'll be on high alert at the Spring Festival. Thirty thousand. And you bring me ten men."
Samd has brought us to this, Remakkib reflected with a heavy heart. The bhereth heads from much of the south and east sectors had assembled at Sholomik's summons, honouring this bodrak whom the Sarai held in high esteem. Remakkib himself had told the gathering about the Zeddayah and the amulet of Barrada, then Sholomik had spoken of the danger they were in. For the first time he was asking the Sarai for help. The response had been immediate and unanimous, the whole matter settled until at the very end of the meeting three members of the Council had arrived, one of them in the yellow shimsak of the Ferrezin.
Once three Counsellors were present at any gathering, the final decision on any matter larger than a family dispute was theirs.
At first the Counsellors had listened gravely to Sholomik restating his request; then they had conferred among themselves while the gathering waited for them to give their approval. To everyone's surprise, what followed was a cross-examination of Remakkib and Sholomik, led by Samd d'Eher, the Ferezzin.
What evidence was there for the authenticity of the amulet? Or of the Zeddayah? Remakkib had been called to speak on this. If the amulet was authentic, which was hardly to be believed, why had Remakkib allowed the bodraks to take it away, instead of bringing it back to the Harb? Why had he not informed the Council about the amulet and the Zeddayah when he first encountered them? And why would a real Zeddayah be so rash as to take the real amulet to Karkor?
Sholomik had answered the last of these questions by saying that the Zeddayah's party had ventured to Karkor to find another treasure of even greater value than the amulet. When pressed, he had stubbornly refused to name this object and some of the Counsellors' obvious scepticism had begun to spread to the gathering.
How did Sholomik know, Samd had finally asked, what would be happening a month into the future? That at the Spring Equinox this so-called Zeddayah would suddenly have to flee Karkor with Imperial troops in pursuit? Had it been planned like this, and if so, why had members of the Council not been consulted in the proper way? No, Sholomik replied, it was not planned and there was no way he could be completely sure what would happen.
A heavy silence settled over the gathering. The certainty among the bhereth heads had evaporated and they waited for the Counsellors to make their decision. In the end it came as no surprise when Samd declared that the Counsellors did not give their assent to Sholomik's request.
At that point Remakkib had been unable to contain himself. Jumping to his feet he had made an impassioned plea for the gathering not to forget the help the Sarai had received from Sholomik in the past: there were many on the Harb who owed him their lives. They had to act now. It would take a full month to gather even a small force and race to Karkor. There was no time for all this talking. It was not a matter of trading for certainties: a request had been made to them and they had an obligation to respond.
Samd had risen to his feet, quelling the murmurs of support among the crowd. “And your obligation to your own people?” he had asked coldly. And then, before Remakkib could reply, he had declared the matter closed.
All those at the gathering had been forbidden on pain of exclusion from their own bhereths to leave the Harb until the matter had been discussed in full Council in four month's time; Remakkib had been ordered to present himself at that meeting to answer for his actions.
"And you, Remakkib?" the Tinker queried, bringing him abruptly back to the present. "Are you prepared to defy the Council?"
"That was not the Council," he replied hotly. "That was one man, who has turned into…." He shook his head in frustration. "He was not always like this. He goes against every tradition the Sarai have ever held. For what? To be safe? We are never safe. So yes, I am Sarai, I am prepared to defy the Council, to take the risk to do what I believe is right. And so are my companions." His shoulders slumped in defeat. "But we are only ten."
"If the Sarai will not help me when I ask, then I will not accept even these ten. Perhaps the Zeddayah will survive without the Sarai." The Tinker's voice was steel, ringing loud enough for all to hear. "Go back to your bhereths, I will not ask you to leave the Harb." He raised a hand to still their protests. "But perhaps there is something you can do for me first if you will."
Remakkib was ashamed and bemused as well. "Of course, we will do whatever you ask. But it is a long bowshot to Karkor if we are not to leave the Harb."
"Long bowshots are all we have, my friend," came the sombre reply.
Chapter 25
Despite the efforts of the Ajeddak Church to rewrite the history of these lands prior to the Revelation of the Stone, enough evidence has survived to make it certain that the origins of the Day of Atonement predate that famous event by several centuries, or , as I believe, by several millenia. Of the earliest legends, such as the stories of the Firrin Garden or of King Jadel, nothing remains to us except the oral tradition, the legends themselves. Their spread across the world gives them credence, but we can add no further evidence to make them more believable.
The situation changes dramatically however once we reach the period of the Ten Kingdoms. First the famous Posto Book of Record and then the veritable flood of writing sponsored by the Vimo Church afford us not only a rich picture of contempora
ry life at that time, but even throw light on prior events.
These manuscripts were believed to have been destroyed in the fire at the Karkor Records Office in 1023, but to the surprise and delight of all scholars they were rediscovered ten years ago in the Palace Archive. For the few of us privileged to study these fragile and fascinating documents they have proved a positive goldmine of information.
To return to the subject of this enquiry, the Day of Atonement was clearly well established among the festivals of the Vimo Church at that period. Then, as now, it was the most important day of the Spring Festival, although it must be said that the tenor of the occasion was then quite different. The atonement referred to appears to have been an entirely moral or spiritual affair rather than the reaffirmation of allegiance to Church and State which takes place in modern times.
The actual dating of the period referred to is still the subject of dispute. The Ten Kingdoms have usually been given a tentative date of 600BE, though I believe there is evidence for a much earlier figure.
From ‘A Brief History of Religious Festivals’: Professor Santiggi
Empire: Karkor
Bilussi yawned. By the Stone he was tired. He was getting too old for this. Only the first day of the Festival proper and he’d had it. The thought of five more nights and days to come doubled his weariness. There was an oppressive atmosphere about the Festival this year that seemed to weigh heavily on everyone, himself included. He should have brought Dundum with him: it would have cost, but money wasn’t the problem here, it was sleep. Shut his eyes now and within a minute he’d be so hard on that any light-fingered passer-by could lift half his stock and he wouldn’t hear a thing.
He automatically put a fresh batch of sausages onto the hottest part of the grill as a large party of revellers spilled out of a tavern down the street and headed his way. Yes, there were consolations. Even if the usual jubilant high spirits were a little muted, people’s determination to enjoy themselves turned Karkor into one continuous party and money flowed as freely as Caska wine. He sold more sausages this week than in three months normal trading.
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