by Lee Duigon
Helki’s little band kept clear of Wusu’s scouts, except for one unlucky outlaw whom Andrus dropped with a well-placed arrow. A little before nightfall it began to rain as Helki had predicted: but the army had toiled hard under the hot sun, and now they would have a late start making camp in the rain.
Helki waited for the rain to stop. In the middle of the night, alone, he crept as close as he dared to the Heathen camp. He moved through the woods like a spirit, unseen, unheard—until he raised his voice and bellowed.
“I’m Helki, the flail of the Lord! And the only men of you who remain in this forest will be dead men. Not I, but the living God, will slay you!”
He fled from his place silently, no man pursuing him, and didn’t stay to observe the commotion that he’d caused in the camp.
Had he stayed, he would have seen Wusu’s outlaw allies swarm into the woods in every direction, cursing and roaring and trying to find him in the dark. He would have seen the Hosa leap to their feet and, by the weak light of their dying campfires, form themselves into a defensive square, spear and shield in every hand. And he would have seen the chiefs among the Zamzu ignore Wusu’s orders and shake their fists and weapons in the faces of the outlaw chiefs.
“This is your fault! Where were your scouts today? Where are they tonight, and what have they been doing? You worse than useless bunch of dung beetles!” That was what the Zamzu said. The outlaws didn’t speak their language, but they knew they were being insulted.
“I will sacrifice the next man who speaks!” Wusu cried. He shoved to the ground the nearest outlaw captain, and the Zamzu laughed. It took him the better part of an hour to restore peace in the camp; and as the scouts came trickling back with nothing to show for their efforts, they received many a poisonous glare from their allies.
A good night’s work, Helki would have said.
The outlaws had food, and they sat around Martis’ fire to enjoy it, after tying Martis’ wrists and ankles. They didn’t share the food with their captives.
“Nice work, us catching the king!”
“I’m not the king!” Jack said, over and over again.
“Tell us another one, Your Highness.”
“You should’ve stayed in Obann, King. Did you like it in your palace?”
No, they didn’t believe Jack for a moment. Ignorant louts, Ellayne thought: all they could think of was the fabulous rewards they were sure to get. They belonged to some outlaw chief named Ysbott, who’d sent his whole following out on a king-hunt.
“I wonder why Helki let the king wander away from Carbonek,” said one of the men. “Maybe he thought we’d be sure to bag him there. But the boss outguessed him this time!” And they all guffawed.
Night fell, the outlaws passed around a skin of wine; and Ellayne remembered something that her father had once read to her. It gave her an idea.
She spoke up unexpectedly. “It’s no use, Grandfather,” she said to Martis. “We’ll have to let them see the treasure. Then maybe they’ll take it and let us go.”
Martis had no idea what she was talking about, but he instantly decided to pretend he did. “They’ll just take it from us, Layne,” he said.
“Here, now—what treasure?” someone growled. “Nobody said anything about a treasure.”
“Let’s see your treasure, boy! Maybe it’s a king’s ransom.”
Oh, they thought they were being sly. They think we’re idiots, Ellayne thought. But she said, “I’ll show it to you. And you can have it, too, if you’ll only let us go.”
“First let’s see it!”
She got up and went to Martis’ saddlebag, groped around in it for a moment. Just then Jack realized what she was going to do, and almost cried out to her to stop. But something made him bite it back.
Ellayne brought out the ancient object that they’d stolen from Noma. The six outlaws stood up for a better look. The dark forest seemed to close in all around them.
“Behold!” said Ellayne.
She pressed the knob, as she’d seen Jack and Martis do, and there was light. The darkness made it seem very bright indeed. The outlaws all quailed back a step.
“Behold the mystic power of the witch, Ellindalay! Five hundred years ago she died, but her evil spirit lives on—in here! So you’d have to say she never really died. Behold!”
She intended to show them the woman’s face with the huge eyes, the face that resided somewhere within the talisman. Jack made it appear by fiddling around with the rim. But Ellayne must have done something different, probably twisted it the wrong way, because instead of a face, it brought forth music—a tiny little stream of notes that seemed loud in the surrounding silence. Ant-music, as it were. She almost dropped the cusset thing! But she kept her wits about her.
“Down, dogs—down on your knees before the power of Ellindalay the Witch! You’ve seen the light of her evil spirit, and now you’ve heard the music of her imps. Her curse is upon you! I have only to say the word, and you’re all dead men.”
“M-m-mercy, good sir!” The man’s teeth chattered. He could hardly talk.
“Jack, take their weapons. Cut Grandpa loose,” Ellayne said. The music kept on playing. The men were nearly scared to death, she thought. Jack plucked their knives out of their sheaths and freed Martis, who lost no time in recovering his sword and cutting the bandits’ bowstrings.
“If you want to live,” Ellayne said to the kneeling men, “you’ll do everything I say. You’ll lead us straight to Carbonek, and there surrender to Helki. If not, I’ll say the magic word and the witch’s spirit will leap out and destroy you. A miserable death! You’ll die with this horrible music in your ears. Yield, you dogs!”
“W-we surrender!”
Martis tied them up securely. Only then did Ellayne squeeze the knob again, and both the light and the music ceased. Jack threw some more wood onto the fire.
The travelers ate what was left of the outlaws’ provisions. Awhile later the children lay down to sleep—if they could—with Martis on guard, his short sword in his hand. “I won’t kill you,” he told the prisoners, “because that would be a kindness. But at the first sign of rebellion, I’ll turn you over to the mercies of the witch.” The men didn’t look rebellious now, not in the least.
Just before he finally fell asleep beside Ellayne, Jack whispered, “Whatever made you think of it?”
She smiled to herself; Jack couldn’t see her smile.
“It’s all in Abombalbap,” she said. “You know—those stories you think are so silly and aren’t good for anything. Abombalbap killed a witch and took her magic wand. And when the Red Knight’s henchmen came for him, he waved the wand and threatened to put a curse on them. He couldn’t really use the wand, but they didn’t know that.”
“Don’t even whisper that again until we’re safe at Carbonek!” Jack said. And freed from the onus of being taken for a king, he fell into a dreamless sleep.
Chapter 46
How Fnaa Remained a King, for Now
By the time they reached Obann, Sunfish was in a stupor almost all the time, and Hlah could barely maneuver him out of the canoe. People were coming to the city from all over Obann, and the guards at the Water Gate hardly noticed Hlah, May, the baby, and the big, bearded man who babbled incoherently and couldn’t walk. With traveling money given to them by Baron Roshay, Hlah hired a cart and one of the few places to stay that was still available—a little shed behind a stable.
“You’re lucky to get this,” said the owner. “Everybody’s here for the conclave, and all the rooms are taken. What’s the matter with your friend?”
“He needs a doctor,” Hlah said, “although if you could ask him, he would say he needs to see a prophet.”
“Will a seminary student do?”
“I think so,” said Hlah, who had no idea of what a seminary was.
“When my nephew comes home this evening, I’ll ask him to pop in and see you after supper. If he can’t help, he’ll probably know where to find a doctor. As for prop
hets, there haven’t been any in this neighborhood since the great siege. They hanged the last prophet I know of.”
May wanted to see sights, but she went no farther than the front of the building to which the stable was attached. There she stood marveling at the unending parade of people and carts up and down the street, and the tall buildings that made the street a canyon. She’d never seen so many people in one place in all her life, let alone a cobblestone street or buildings faced with stone. Compared to Obann, Ninneburky was not much more impressive than their own little settlement of cabins in the hills.
“Did they really hang the prophets?” she said. “What would ever make them do such a wicked thing?”
“Who can say?” Hlah answered. This was his first visit to Obann, and he thought the place looked sinister. Abnaks do not live in cities—in which my people are wiser than these, he thought. “We shouldn’t leave Sunfish alone for too long.”
“No, of course not,” May agreed, and they went back to the shed.
The seminary student bent over Sunfish, who lay on his back on an improvised cot. Sunfish’s lips were moving, but his eyes stayed closed.
“Do you know what this man’s saying?” the student asked Hlah.
“He usually recites Scripture.”
The student stood up. “Yes—and he’s word-perfect! There aren’t many scholars who can recite like this—and in the original, ancient language, too. Who is he?”
“I don’t rightly know,” Hlah said. “I found him wandering alone, half-starved and out of his mind. He doesn’t remember who he is, so we named him Sunfish. They say he knows all the Scriptures, every bit of it, by heart. But he falls into these spells and has dreams that scare him, but which he can’t remember when he wakes. He wanted to come to Obann to consult a prophet. He’s a good man, and many people love him.”
“Isn’t there anything you can do to help him?” May said.
The student shrugged. “I don’t know. I work now under Preceptor Constan, copying the Scriptures. The preceptor’s the wisest man I know, and I think he might be interested in this fellow. He’s too busy to come here, but if somehow we could bring your friend to the seminary tomorrow, the preceptor would probably make some time to see him. Maybe he’ll know what to do.”
“Thank you! Yes, we could have him brought to the seminary, if we can hire a cart,” Hlah said. “Will you go with us?”
“Certainly,” the student said. “We’ll go right after breakfast.”
Getting the Thunder King’s mardar into the city, secretly, to talk to Reesh, had been hard, Gallgoid reflected. But getting this group out of the city, secretly, might be even trickier. Nevertheless, it was to be done soon.
He gathered them in Gurun’s bedchamber, the queen, Uduqu, and Fnaa. Some of Gallgoid’s people patrolled the halls to see that no one came too close. His agents were also servants in the palace. No one would notice them going about on various errands.
“The time has come for the three of you to leave this city,” he said. “Jandra and Abgayle, too, must leave, although I couldn’t find a way to bring them here tonight. But you will all leave unobserved, during the conclave. As the Lady Gurun knows, Merffin Mord and his council plan to murder you and surrender Ryons to the Thunder King. They don’t know this boy is not King Ryons.”
There were underground passages leading out of the city, he explained, including a long-unused one he’d found inside the palace wine cellar. Once outside and in disguise, they would make their way to Lintum Forest, where Helki would protect them. Gallgoid would remain in Obann to do whatever he could to impede any investigation of their disappearance. He intended, also, quietly to poison Merffin and his colleagues; but he saw no need to mention it now.
“I don’t know that I’m up to hiking all the way back to Lintum Forest,” Uduqu said, “and I’m not used to fleeing from my enemies.”
“They don’t intend to kill you in a fair fight, Chieftain,” Gallgoid said. Uduqu nodded: anyone could be assassinated, somehow.
But Fnaa ruined everything.
“I won’t go!” he said. “I came here to hold King Ryons’ place for him, and that’s what I’ll do till he comes back again. But maybe the rest of you should go. Jandra says God will protect me, and she’s a prophet. So I’ll stay.”
“Chief Uduqu can carry you out of here whether you want to go or not,” Gallgoid said.
“But maybe Fnaa is right,” said Gurun. “If Obann is left without a king, who knows what will happen? If he stays, I will stay with him. God brought me to this city all the way from Fogo Island, in a storm. I will stay where He has put me.”
“You ought to send Jandra back to Lintum Forest, though,” Uduqu said. “That’s where she belongs. But if this boy and Gurun stay here, then I will, too. You’ll have to make another plan to keep them safe.”
“If you stay here in the palace,” said Gallgoid, “you will be killed. Sooner or later they will find a way to do it.”
“Then we must move out of the palace to a safer place in Obann,” Gurun said. “I have eighteen Blays who will come with me and guard us with their lives.”
“From poison in your food? From a dagger in the dark?”
“We must put our trust in God,” said Gurun.
Gallgoid sighed. “So be it!” he said. “I have in my time been a traitor to God and to my city; and yet God has used me in His service. I don’t know why! But I will get Jandra and her nurse out of the city tomorrow, and see about moving the rest of you to a safer place. Everyone will think it strange that you wish to move out of the palace. It will put Merffin on his guard.”
“That can’t be helped,” Gurun said.
With the Temple in ruins, the conclave assembled in the Great Hall at the palace. More delegates were expected to arrive during the next few days, but the deliberations would begin this morning.
Constan remained at the seminary, supervising the work on the books. Whatever the conclave decided in the end, this was more important. So he was there when Hlah and May came in a cart with Sunfish, and the student found him at his desk in the scriptorium.
“Preceptor, there’s someone you should see. I’ve had him brought here so you won’t have to leave the building.”
“Whom ought Ito see, Clemen?”
The student explained as best he could, which was enough. “Bring him into my office,” Constan said. “I’ll join you there.”
Constan took all the time he needed to see that the morning’s work was well under way. Only then did he proceed to his study. There he found Sunfish slumped in a chair, with Clemen, Hlah, and May assembled around him. The sight of the babe in May’s arms provoked one of the preceptor’s rare smiles.
“We don’t often see a baby in the seminary,” he said.
“Your pardon, sir! I couldn’t leave him; and as this poor man is dear to us, I couldn’t stay behind, either,” May said.
Clemen introduced them. Constan studied their faces. Urged by Clemen, Hlah told as much of Sunfish’s story as he knew. Constan listened silently and stood as motionless as a great stone.
He stood so still because he was using his eyes and ears, and thinking about what they told him. This man called Sunfish was a big, powerful-looking man, unkempt, with a wild mane of hair and a beard that badly needed barbering. Hair and beard were black, shot through with grey. Constan didn’t speak because he was sure he’d seen this man before, and trying to remember where.
“Aren’t you going to ask us any questions, sir?” Hlah said. Constan only held up a finger, compelling silence. Clemen gave Hlah a look that said, “He means it.”
Constan listened to Sunfish whisper sacred verses: word-perfect, just as Clemen said. But his eyes gave the more important witness.
He knew this man. Slowly, carefully, his imagination cleaned the dirt off him, dressed him in fine clothes, cut his hair and trimmed his beard, and made allowances for the effects of hardship and suffering. There were not many who could have done this, but the precep
tor had the most orderly mind in all of Obann City. Still, he would not rush to a conclusion.
Minutes marched by. Just when Hlah was beginning to fear this stolid man had fallen asleep on his feet with his eyes open, Constan spoke.
“Clemen, bring this man to my house on Temple Street. You know where it is. Tell my servants to bathe him, wash his hair, and put him to bed. My bed. But first send Anastys to me.”
Clemen went back to the scriptorium and returned with another student. Meanwhile, Constan sat at his desk and wrote a note, which he folded shut and sealed with wax. He handed it to the second student.
“Go to the Great Hall now and deliver this, in person, to Prester Jod—and no one else,” he said. “Make sure he reads it right away, no matter what he happens to be doing at the moment.”