The Tears of Sisme

by Peter Hutchinson

At that point he turned and left, taking Rasscu and Berin with him. The Sarai sat as if turned to stone, and Tariska stayed also, not knowing what had been said. After a few minutes the raiders began to stir and a joyful hum of conversation rose swiftly. All seemed well, so the girl slipped away to their own tents, sitting down next to Berin just as Rasscu spoke to the Tinker.

  "Was that as dramatic as it sounded? It certainly seemed to reach them."

  "It was too good an opportunity to miss. They were very quick to honour Caldar from the start, but it's you, Rass, they're going to have to support and fight for, whatever the Sarai Council say. I don't want to create divisions among the Sarai, but if the Council delay in recognising you, you may need help ready to hand. So when they got very excited about the sword, I used all that emotion to make them realise what was under their noses all the time. They speak longingly of the days of Barrada, when their ancestors fought in a holy cause and claimed the Harb to be their special home for the next thousand years. Yet they had a Rahidor in front of them in the flesh and they didn't recognise him. Of course that's always the way of it," the Tinker added. "You legendary people are disappointing in real life."

  There was a light step in the darkness behind Tariska and Remakkib's voice asked, "May I approach your hearth?"

  "Come on in, Remakkib. Why so formal?"

  "We have a new Rahidor," the tall Sarab inclined his head stiffly towards Rasscu. "You spoke to me of this possibility last year near Tarkus, yet never did I foresee that the reality would come upon us so swiftly. My men talk of nothing else, but no one knows what we are to do. I am here to discover if you have any orders for us. We..."

  "Remakkib," the Tinker interrupted with a sigh, "what were your plans a few hours ago?"

  "Before the meeting? Some of us to split up the cattle and drive them to the Zytas, our friends in the Pardenn," the Sarab answered easily. "The rest to escort your party to the South Gate, ascend to the plateau and in due time to present the amulet and the Zeddayah to my people."

  "Then that's exactly what you should do. For the rest, just consider. You’re a war chief among the Sarai, so you of all people need to grasp the scale of the events which have already begun. The First Talisman has returned. Rasscu has been named as his successor by Barrada himself. He must now be formally confirmed as the new Rahidor by the Sarai Council and declared to your people. That will be obstacle enough.

  But do you think it ends there? The Talisman brings opportunity and responsibility and the Rahidor must take them both. Rasscu is not Barrada, not yet. Untold dangers and years of bitter effort lie ahead of him before he’ll come into his true power. And who will aid him, while we are weak and the enemy is strong? Who if not the Sarai? You are a small people in a small corner of the earth. Yet if you’re willing, you can be the lever that will move the world.

  Don't be deceived by our little success at the gorge. There’s no possibility of victory against the powers which confront us at this moment. Do battle directly and we’ll be defeated. Continue the struggle, go on where we have begun, and our strength will grow as theirs diminishes. Do you see what I’m saying? We’re endeavouring to change the future of the world in these short years against overwhelming enemies, who are not yet sure of our purpose and have not shown their full strength. We may fail. We may all perish. But fate has placed us directly in the path of this possibility and our successors will judge us harshly if we don’t make the attempt."

  "You did not paint such a bleak picture for my men," the tall Sarab said slowly, the question implicit.

  "I seized the moment that was given. What we want from your men is their white-hot courage and their iron commitment, the virtues of the Sarai which will be sorely needed in the years to come. What’s required of you is a clear eye and a cool head. We require your aid. Yours personally. Whether to give it or not, the choice is yours."

  A long silence ensued. Eventually Remakkib raised his head and looked directly at the Tinker. "These are weighty matters. You know, as well as I, that the coming of a Rahidor is more important to the Sarai even than the Talisman itself. My heart tells me to follow the Rahidor to the gates of hell if need be. My head says that it may cost my people everything we have and we may still fail. Also I respect all that I have seen and heard of Rasscu and the approval of Barrada is a wondrous thing: but the Sarai do not fight for a man who has not proved himself to them personally. I do not doubt him, but such proof lies in the future. You ask me to commit myself now." He rose to his feet. "Give me until the morrow and you will have my answer."

  After the Sarab's departure, there was another long silence. Rasscu, Berin and Tariska sat immobile, overwhelmed by what they had heard. At last it was Berin who started to speak.

  "Untold..." he squeaked. He coughed and started again in a normal voice, "Untold dangers and years of bitter effort. That's what's in store for Rasscu?"

  No one replied, so he ploughed on. " I know it's selfish, but I'm glad it's Rass that was chosen for this job. I get the uncanny feeling that we're all going to be asked to help; but meanwhile there's a large part of me that just wants to go home to the farm and settle into helping Ham with the cattle and worry more about the weather than anything else." He heaved a great sigh. " Go on, tell me that's how it's going to be."

  "Oh, you'll be going home, Berin," Idressin answered. "And as before, it'll be your choice whether you stay there or not." The tutor laughed. "I think you suspect the truth already: once you've set off on a journey such as ours it's very difficult to turn back until you've reached the end." He smiled mischievously. "And who knows where the end is?"

  "Hmmm," Berin hummed in frustration. "That means you probably know, but you're not going to tell us in case we get scared." He waited, but no reply was forthcoming. "Oh alright, I don’t really want to know. I'll settle for going home."

  He turned to the Tesserit. "What about you, Rass? You're sitting there with a piece of legend in your pocket. I don't understand how you can be so cool and accepting of everything that's been dropped on you. You're going to be living among strangers, a good chance of getting killed, and all for something that's so big it doesn’t make sense."

  Rasscu looked at the youth affectionately. "I'm cool, Berin, because I don't see all this as completely real. How can I? What's a piece of rock belonging to the gods got to do with me of all people? Why are all these tribesmen so eager to follow me? The Rahidor, yes, but not me. So I do what you always do with strange dreams: carry on and see what happens."

  It suddenly struck Tariska that Rasscu would not be returning to the Lake with them. More than all the talk about destiny and struggle, this realisation brought home to her what was in store for the Tesserit. He was going to stay behind to wage his war alone. Well, not exactly alone; he would be with the Sarai, if Remakkib came round. She knew she could not have accepted his role and she looked at him with new respect, as he resumed talking.

  He glanced across the fire at the Tinker. "There are of course a few practical details I'd like to sort out before you all disappear. Like I know absolutely nothing about how I'm supposed to act as the Guardian or as the Rahidor. Some sort of fairly permanent help might be a good idea."

  "One of us will stay with you, Rass, for a while at least. It's really Idressin's turn. I've suffered the Sarai's diet for long enough now."

  After that the talk became more general, full of reminiscences, although none of them spoke of Razimir and Hennis. That wound was too near the surface. They were still sitting round the fire, reluctant to go to bed, when the bawling of cattle announced the arrival of the herd, which the herdsmen drove onto the grassy slopes above the encampment. They gradually settled down, and as the night became quiet, the little group split up and went off to their tents.

  It was some time before Tariska went to sleep. What was it Idressin had said to her? 'Relax and laugh'. She smiled. Her mind was a whirl of thoughts, memories and possible futures. She remembered the law professor in Suntoren who had flattered her with his att
entions; he was talked of as having the most brilliant mind of his generation and she had been regarded as undeservedly fortunate in having caught his notice. She giggled to herself now at the prospect of spending the rest of her life with a walking library, one that contained only one kind of book too. But it was on memories of her father's farm that she finally fell asleep.

  Minutes later, it seemed, she awoke with a start. There had been a strange noise outside followed by a sudden rush of fresh air, someone passing in or out of the tent. She was wondering who had been moving around, when there was a scrape and Berin lit the lantern.

  "Looks as though Rass has gone out," the youth said. He smiled sleepily at Tariska. "I suppose we're all a bit jumpy after the last few days. Anyway I'm going back to sleep. Rass can wander about all night if he likes. Goodnight, Tikka." With that he doused the light and burrowed down into his blankets again.

  The girl lay awake, thinking about Rasscu and listening to the sounds of the night. A slight breeze made the tent rustle. Outside she heard the cattle lowing uneasily; perhaps it was colder up here than they were accustomed to. There was a strange coughing grunt that came a couple of times also, powerful and rather menacing. She didn't hear it again and dismissed it as one of the cows. Berin's right, she thought; I'm getting jumpy and fanciful about nothing. It was difficult to accept that they were safe after periods of constant danger. She stretched out next to the hump that was Caldar's sleeping form and closed her eyes.

  She had just drifted comfortably off to sleep again, when the same rasping grunt came again, louder now, followed by a terrifying roar that brought her bolt upright in her bed. It sounded to be some way up the hillside, but the sheer force of it made her shiver. The cattle began to bawl in fear and shouts sounded in the encampment, as Sarab and Mederro alike roused and tried to discover what was happening. Then ripping through all other sounds came a human scream of pain and a terrible screeching, a positive explosion of fury that went on and on.

  Berin was already outside the tent, and with a quick check on Caldar - how could he sleep through this? - Tariska joined him. The waning moon threw a faint light on the slopes around them and they could just make out a dark mass moving along the hillside.

  "The cattle are running away," Berin announced unnecessarily, the drumming of hooves clear on the night air.

  The screeching ceased abruptly and in its place they could hear more shouts from above as men gradually worked their way up the steep flanks of the mountain, seeking the source of the noise. Some of them had torches and eventually a knot of them gathered at the scene of the action high above. A flurry of calls in Sarai and Mederro carried the news down the hill, leaving the young pair in frustrated ignorance. In the end a slow procession began to descend the hillside and fires sprang up around the lake, so Berin set about rekindling their own, while Tariska fetched them a blanket each. The air was cold and they had given up the idea of going back to bed.

  The cluster of torches was slow to descend and had still not reached the camp, when the Tinker came out yawning and joined them by the fire.

  "What d'you think it was, Tinker?" Berin asked.

  "What was what? Oh, all that screeching. Big cat. Mountain lion at a guess. Bit low for them here, but with the snow late on the mountains this spring and the chance of a nice fat cow for supper any self-respecting lion in the area would drop by for a meal. One of the Sarai guards must have got in its way. No more sense than a block of wood when it comes to avoiding unnecessary danger these people. Is Caldar still asleep?"

  "He was half an hour ago," Tariska replied. "D'you want me to check?"

  "No, it's alright. Idressin said he'd exhausted himself helping the wounded. Another one who could do with more common sense. I know, Tikka, I know, it was all for the best of reasons. Caldar's trouble is that as soon as he discovers an ability, he has to try it out, before he knows anything about it. He'd do a lot better if he slowed down a bit, instead of rushing in and killing himself."

  "I think Idressin’s said something like that to him before," Berin put in. "Caldar promised to be cautious and I think he's really tried to restrain himself."

  "Restrain himself?" the Tinker's voice was a mixture of amusement and disbelief. He raised his head to the starry sky. "The stars and I have made a pact," he announced solemnly. "The day that that lad decides not to restrain himself any longer, we're both going to duck."

  Suddenly a bearded Sarab stood at the edge of the firelight and after a ritual greeting loosed a torrent of words in Sarai. The Tinker listened gravely, asked a few questions of his own, then turned to his companions to explain as the man disappeared into the darkness.

  "Seems it was a mountain lion. One of the herdsmen confronted it and got knocked down and bitten for his rashness. They're saying it might have finished him off, but apparently Rass turned up at that moment and discouraged it. All that yowling was Rass and the cat settling their differences. I gather the cat lost and it was a live hero who was pulled out from underneath it, but he'll be clawed for sure." His face grew serious. "I'll have a look at him when they get him down and find the herbs I need at first light. You know, this little group causes an awful lot of trouble. It's been the same ever since our paths crossed up among the Hamna."

  "Yes, it’s been downhill all the way,” Berin agreed seriously. “But what chance do we have with the guides we’ve got?”

  Tariska ignored the banter beside her and stood up as she saw the torches reach the edge of the camp. There were no shouts of triumph or congratulation as they were met by the crowds of tribesmen, a sign she read as distinctly worrying. She was just about to set off towards the centre of activity when the Tinker laid a firm hand on her shoulder.

  "They're bringing him straight here to my tent," he said. "You'll see him soon enough."

  So she waited, standing with her eyes fixed on the approaching group, which seemed in the semi-darkness to comprise half the camp. The crowd stopped a few paces from the fire, while the group carrying Rasscu came on and laid him gently on the ground on the crude litter they had made from lashed boughs. There was another casualty too. Tariska had forgotten about the herdsman, yet it was to him that the Tinker returned after a quick examination of both his patients. To the girl the Tesserit looked by far the worse, drenched in blood from head to foot and with several ominous great rents in his clothing. But she knew enough by now to trust the Tinker's judgment, and as her anxiety subsided, she made herself useful, heating water and tearing up strips of cloth for the Tinker to use bathing their wounds.

  When he went off at dawn to search for herbs, she sat on watch over the patients, both of whom were conscious now, but delirious. It was as well she was there. Caldar awoke before the Tinker returned and it took all Tariska's powers of persuasion to stop him from trying by himself to relieve the suffering of the fevered pair who tossed and moaned in the other tent. Even when the old man returned and ejected him, the youth sat silently, almost sullenly, outside, waiting to offer his help.

  **

  It took the Tinker a couple of hours to prepare his concoctions and a further hour to apply them carefully to his patients. After that he emerged, saw Caldar still waiting, and invited him to come for a walk up the hillside. They sat down on a rock a few hundred feet above the camp. The old man seemed withdrawn and unapproachable and Caldar found that he didn't know what to say. Not for the first time the things, which had seemed so vital to him just moments before, lost their importance and gradually shrunk to their true stature. At last he felt the tide of calm wash over him and he slipped into it gratefully like a man returning home.

  A long time later he stirred, feeling completely restored. He had not realised how empty he was, as if he had spent everything he had. Spent what? He wasn't sure. It was time to ask a few questions.

  "If I can help people, or even heal them, why should I hold back? It's something more than getting tired, isn't it?"

  "Everyone uses energy all the time," the old man replied at once as if he
had been waiting for Caldar to speak. "It's how we live and function. Most people are careless, they take no heed of the process. They eat, work, love, hate, kill, procreate: it's all the same to them. But human life is a mysterious gift and so, inextricably bound to it, is the energy by which we live it. In time you’ll come to understand more. For the moment you know enough to begin to discriminate about your own actions. You want to heal someone. How do you start? The way you tackle it, you’ve been summoning forces inside yourself. Where do they come from and to whom do they belong? To you? Can you truly say that you’re the creator of these forces? Of course not. Everything we have and use is borrowed. We’re the beggar who sits on the throne and with the singular arrogance of the human race pretends to be king.”

  He paused to glance at the youth beside him. No question, Caldar was really listening for once. Not ready by a long way to grasp his true situation, but listening was a good start.

  “For most people it doesn't matter”, the Tinker resumed. “Even as they use energy, they themselves are used by the vast process which supplies it. They go with the current. For you in this instance it’s different. You’re dipping directly into the flow of energy, seeking to divert it for a purpose of your own, and there are two dangers for you to beware of.

  First there's a cost for everything, and because you’re breaking the two-way bargain by which we automatically borrow and repay, you personally must pay for what you use. It’s possible to make a different kind of bargain. Once you learn how to do this, you’ll have overcome the first danger. But until you know, it will remain a very real possibility that you could harm or even kill yourself from ignorance.

  Afterwards the second danger will remain. The use of power creates a disturbance, however small, in the patterns of the universe, and once you've passed the first danger the prospect of the unlimited use of power will beckon. It's an illusion, but it’s been sufficient on occasion to draw men into stupendous acts of destructiveness. Fortunately we're so feeble that we harm only ourselves: the universe can ignore our most grandiose efforts.