The Children of the Wind (Seven Citadels)

by Geraldine Harris

  "Having first unsuspiciously loaded food supplies, warm clothes and the Master's cat?" enquired Gidjabolgo.

  "It may be the best we can do," snapped Forollkin. "The alternative is to overpower Ibrogdiss here on the ship. I'm well armed and the two of you might be of some help but everything depends on how many of his serfs would fight for him; there are eighteen of them."

  "They should hate him," said Gidjabolgo, "but fear would make them fight for him, or where could they hide from the vengeance of all the other Merchant Hunters?"

  "Kerish, what do you think?" asked Forollkin.

  The Prince lay back among the cushions and rubbed his head as if it was aching.

  "I don't know. For some reason, Ibrogdiss' serfs do not resent his cruelty and something binds them together. I think they have a code of action but I doubt if even Dau will tell me what it is."

  "Well, try. You're good at worming things out of people and in the meantime . . ."

  "In the meantime, I think you look pale, Forollkin."

  "What?" Forollkin stared at his brother.

  "If you're stricken with a sudden fever, that will be a good excuse for not going ashore," said Kerish, "and if Ibrogdiss thinks you're going to die naturally, he won't move against us."

  "But Kerish, he as good as told you he was going to murder us . . ."

  "His head was full of gauza fumes," said Gidjabolgo contemptuously. "If you behave as normal he'll think he dreamed the conversation."

  "Well, can't you pretend to be ill?" pleaded Forollkin. "You know I'm no actor."

  "We'll feed you some rotten fish to produce the symptoms," suggested Gidjabolgo.

  "No, “said Kerish firmly, "Forollkin, it's not me that Ibrogdiss wants to dispose of. You'll have to do it."

  *****

  That night Ibrogdiss again sent to Kerish, asking him to sing. This time the Prince agreed. He sang of the Grove of Irnaald where the Ninth Emperor had lamented In-Kelda, his Queen, the Lady of the Rainbow; of the Sea of Az dyed purple by the hem of Zeldin's cloak trailing in the waters as he strode from Galkis to Ellerinonn; and of the White Strand of Hildimarn, where once a year the High Priestess searches for the footprints of Imarko.

  Gidjabolgo went down into the hold where he could not hear, but all the Frians listened intently and Dau whispered partial translations to his comrades. The evening ended with Forollkin stiffly claiming to feel unwell and Kerish anxiously taking him to their tent.

  The next morning Kerish announced that Lord Forollkin had a slight fever and would stay in bed. Ibrogdiss was too busy to be much concerned since they were nearing another yalg grove. While the protective nets were put up again Kerish left Gidjabolgo guarding the tent and climbed down into the hold to feed Lilahnee.

  The marsh kitten leapt to the rafters as soon as he opened the cabin door, but she did not spit at him. Patiently Kerish set down the food and projected the same series of images. Then he sat quite still and watched Lilahnee come down and eat her food. When she had finished, the marsh kitten settled down, only a foot away from him, to wash herself. Very pleased, Kerish got up quietly and went back to their stuffy tent.

  During the day five gauza orchids were gathered and Ibrogdiss and his men all returned safely. That night at supper, the Merchant Hunter was in an excellent humour and clapped in time to the sea-chants and marching songs that Kerish played for him. Yet when the Prince began a song of his own composition on the beauties of Ellerinonn, Ibrogdiss stopped him at once.

  "No, no, young Lord, men say that land is ruled by a sorcerer, a wicked man."

  "The King of Ellerinonn is not wicked, I assure you."

  "All sorcerers are wicked," said Ibrogdiss. "They take their fate into their own hands and make the gods angry. Sing of something else."

  *****

  The following morning Kerish told the Merchant Hunter that Forollkin was worse. Ibrogdiss said that it could be marsh fever, though that was rare at this time of the year. Kerish asked what the symptoms were and was then able to agree that Forollkin had them all.

  Back inside their tent the Prince informed his brother that he was flushed, sweating heavily, had pains in the stomach and occasional spasms.

  "Spasms of what?" demanded Forollkin.

  "I'm not sure," said Kerish. "Oh, and you're to drink this, only I wouldn't if I were you, because I saw some of the ingredients."

  For the next three days the Green Hunter rowed north. Each morning Dau asked with obvious concern how Forollkin was. Somewhat ashamed, Kerish answered him briefly but there never seemed to be an opportunity to question Dau about his feeling towards Ibrogdiss. The master of the Green Hunter was always hovering close by.

  Kerish had to spend most of his time cooped up in their tent with Forollkin whilst Gidjabolgo sat just outside, keeping up a cruelly observant commentary on the ship's crew. Occasionally he allowed himself to escape to the stern cabin to sit with Lilahnee, and the marsh kitten was beginning to trust him. On the third morning she briefly allowed Kerish to stroke her, before cuffing away his hand. By the next day she was even taking food from his fingers.

  As Kerish emerged from the hold with the empty dish in his hands, he noticed that the morning was less hot than he had grown to expect. There was a slight breeze and he leaned over the rail for a moment to study the ways in which the landscape was changing.

  The river was narrower, the bleak expanses of reeds were now broken by numerous gir mounds and in the far distance he thought he saw the shadow of the foothills of the northern mountains.

  Suddenly Ibrogdiss' hands closed on his shoulders. Kerish winced at the smell of gauza but managed a look of polite enquiry.

  "Young Lord, you are pale, you are tired. You have nursed your brother too long."

  Ibrogdiss began to talk about marsh fever, explaining that its usual course was seven days. On the seventh night the climax came and the victim either died or began to recover.

  "The fever is fierce then, very fierce. Young Lord, you must rest. Two of my men will care for your brother. Rest in my cabin or you will be sick too."

  Kerish thanked Ibrogdiss for his concern but firmly refused. lbrogdiss smiled and bowed but Kerish sensed that the refusal angered him.

  That night the half-brothers shared Kerish's supper, a tough stewed fowl and a cup of girgan. Afterwards Kerish suggested a game of zel. Gidjabolgo was sitting close to the tent and would warn them if Ibrogdiss, or any of his Frians, approached.

  Forollkin agreed, without much enthusiasm. While Kerish carefully set out the zel pieces, reciting the proper formula over each, he launched into a long complaint about Lan-Pin-Fria. Having attacked the food, the climate and the landscape, Forollkin went on to the Frians themselves. "And whatever they may say, they don't have a religion. Their so-called gods teach them nothing about how to behave to one another. They might as well worship a stick, or a pile of stones. I expect some of them do."

  Kerish put down a crystal pyramidion murmuring, "Behold the mountain where Zeldin spoke unto his son and showed him Galkis. May we be granted eyes to see all things new," then asked, "To teach us how to behave to each other: is that what gods are for?"

  "Well that's the heart of it, isn't it?" said Forollkin. "Perhaps we should send some of our priests to the Frians. It's true their land is against them and they have to struggle to survive, but they blame everything on the marsh gods and do little to help each other. Zeldin, I hate this place. No wonder Ibrogdiss retreats into gauza dreams."

  Kerish placed another piece. "Behold the tear that Zeldin shed for Imarko and remember that even God grieves for us," and then looked up. "Yes, and each of his retreats makes the defeat of Lan-Pin-Fria more certain. Perhaps Galkis has breathed the root of despair too."

  "Our country sickens but it's not defeated yet," said Forollkin. "After all, here we are doing something to help, instead of wringing our hands before mere images."

  "Are we really?" demanded Kerish. "Do we truly believe that there is something we can do, or are we
just making this journey so that we don't have to sit still and watch the worst happen?"

  "Kerish! You're the one who is supposed to understand our quest not me. Would the King of Ellerinonn have given up his key and risked his kingdom if our journey was worthless?"

  "I'm sorry, Forollkin. You know I just like to come at things from all sides at once. I don't really mean it."

  "I should hope not," grumbled Forollkin. "Is the board ready?"

  Kerish made the formal gesture of placing the invisible centre piece: "Behold the emptiness at the heart of all things, which each man must fill. Yes, ready."

  After the standard period of silence, Forollkin impetuously moved the Golden Star of Galkis towards the Double-edged Sword, muttering a few lines, memorized from a book of Zel meditations, about the sacrifice of the one for the many. Kerish picked up the Winged Circle and, after brooding over it for a long while, placed it beside the Silver Stair. Outside they could hear Ibrogdiss calling orders to the night watch and the wailing prayers with which the Frians greeted darkness.

  Kerish poured more oil into the lamp and they played on. Forollkin moved the Rainbow Bridge towards the Crimson Heart and misquoted a poem about Crossing the Gulf from Self to Other. Kerish intercepted him with the Wall of Desire. "If you desire something of me, it you may have, but never me."

  Snorting with irritation, Forollkin did not pause to think about this long. He used the Rainbow Bridge to pass over a Black Square. "The Wise Man knows when to be afraid."

  Kerish's hand hovered above the Mind Crystal and then over the Emperor Orchid. Even in the flickering lamplight Forollkin saw the change in his brother's face. "You're thinking of him? Of Galkis?"

  "The Emperor, our father," murmured Kerish. "I can never think of him as the link between us."

  "Neither can I," answered Forollkin. "I can't think of myself as part of the Godborn at all. You fit. I don't. And as for my mother . . ."

  Kerish looked down at the board but he could hear the pain in Forollkin's voice.

  "She'll know by now that I've gone off with you on some wild quest, instead of making a golden future for her in Ephaan. I sometimes think you're lucky, Kerish, to have lost your mother so young. At least you can weave dreams about her. It's easier to love the dead."

  "Forollkin. . . '

  Kerish stopped at the sudden sound of violent coughing. It was Gidjabolgo's signal. Forollkin hastily got under the sheets and Kerish knelt upright. There was a scrabbling at the tent flap and Dau crawled in, holding a finger to his lips.

  "Dau, what is it?" whispered Kerish.

  The Frian looked at the pile of bedclothes that hid Forollkin.

  "The Lord is very sick?"

  Kerish nodded.

  "He will die?"

  "No!" said Kerish. "The fever weakens him but it will not kill."

  "Lord, he will die."

  The Frian crawled forward till his knees touched Kerish and he spoke very quietly. "My Master has said so."

  Kerish heard Forollkin's breathing change but he didn't move.

  "What has he said?"

  "The Master is afraid you will catch the fever, Lord. He means to take you from your brother and keep you in the cabin with the marsh kitten. Then he will tell you that your brother has died of the fever and the ugly one, too, is sick."

  "My brother is not dying," said Kerish.

  "Lord we are to nurse him and we will be lashed unless . . ." Dau picked up one of the cushions and motioned as if to press it down over someone's face. "You understand, Lord. . ."

  Kerish nodded. Before he had only known the danger, now he felt it too. His stomach churned and he struggled to repress a desire to run out and find Ibrogdiss and scream at him, "Kill us all now. I can't bear to wait, knowing what you are."

  Forollkin was shifting in the bed. He could not keep up the pretence of unconsciousness much longer.

  "Dau," whispered Kerish, "will you help us against Ibrogdiss?"

  The Frian shook his head. "Lord, I must not harm my Master, or the curse of the gods will fall on me."

  "We would not ask that of you," said Kerish cautiously, "but we need your help to escape. Remember, Lord Forollkin saved your life."

  "I know it, Lord, and you have given me your god to guard me. I would die for you, and the gods could not be angry," whispered Dau, "because you are free. If the Lord Forollkin were stronger perhaps . . ."

  Forollkin threw back the sheets and Kerish gripped Dau's shoulders to check his startled movement.

  "Lord Forollkin has recovered from his fever. We concealed it thinking that Ibrogdiss would not harm a sick man . . ."

  "But we were wrong," said Forollkin bitterly. "It seems your Master is bad enough for anything."

  "The gods have made him," answered Dau, "and he must act as they have made him."

  "Even against you, his son?"

  "I am a serf," said Dau, with curious dignity. "The gods made us to be hurt and they will heal us."

  Kerish was beginning to understand. "But since we are free, we may struggle against Ibrogdiss, and surely you can help one master as long as you do not harm another?”

  "I think it is so," agreed Dau.

  "We must plan," said Forollkin. "Is Ibrogdiss likely to leave the ship tomorrow?"

  The Frian shook his head.

  "Perhaps we should move tonight, then. . ."

  "No!" Dau shook his head more violently. "At night the marshes are bad: the or-gar-gee hunt and south there are many or-gar-gee.”

  "But we are going north, to Lokrim and beyond," said Kerish.

  They could see that Dau was very curious but serfs were trained not to question their masters.

  "North then. I will take you to the house of my mother's kin in Lokrim."

  "But how are we to get away?" demanded Forollkin. "Will the rest of the crew help us?"

  "Help, no, but they will not stop me." The Frian was rocking on his heels, frowning intently. "The Master trusts me in his cabin. Tomorrow I must take things from there to put in the other cabin, to make a prison for you, Lord. Time perhaps if . . . .Lords, do you have a firestick? The Master keeps his close."

  "I have firestones, " said Forollkin, who always carried a pair on journeys.

  "Would your spirits let me use them? Could you teach me?"

  "It's easy," said Forollkin a little scornfully. "There's no need for spirits."

  Dau's half-smile suddenly gave him a look of Ibrogdiss.

  "It good then, but I must speak with my brothers. I will come again before dawn."

  He wriggled noiselessly out of the tent.

  "Can we trust him?" whispered Forollkin.

  "Yes," answered the Prince with more confidence than he felt.

  Chapter 3

  The Book of Emperors: Wisdom

  And he said to them, "Do you obey me?" His followers answered, "Lord, in all things!" but he shook his head. "That cannot be, for the first of my commands is this – never obey without thought."

  As much to stop thought as anything else, Kerish moved quietly about the tent, packing the essentials for their journey north into one light carrying chest. Exactly what was essential provoked a long whispered argument. In the end Forollkin allowed Kerish his zildar and his copy of the Book of the Emperors, but forbade him to pack the heavy zel set.

  "We'll leave it to pay Ibrogdiss' fee."

  Occasionally they could hear the murmur of conversation but even Kerish's sharp ears could not make out what was being said. In the gloom of the false dawn, Dau slipped back into their tent.

  "I have spoken to my brothers," he whispered. "It will be done, but you must help me, Lord."

  He looked at Kerish who nodded. "Tell me what to do."

  The Prince listened carefully to his instructions and repeated them once to make sure that he had understood.

  "I must go now," murmured Dau. "The Master will be waking."

  "Send Gidjabolgo to us," asked Kerish. "He must know what we're doing too."

  Da
u looked uneasy. "He will do as you say? It is not good that my brothers are punished for him; he is not a master."

  "He will give no trouble. I'll answer for that," said Forollkin grimly.

  Dau nodded and after Forollkin had shown him how to make sparks with the firestones, he left the brothers alone.

  Kerish did not emerge from his tent to feed the marsh kitten as early as usual. He waited instead until he heard the crew haul up the nets they had set the night before, and refill the braziers with sea-coal and he could smell fish broiling.