The Children of the Wind (Seven Citadels)

by Geraldine Harris

  Sweat was trickling down Forollkin's face as he lay, fully clothed, under the coverlet, his long sword at his side.

  "Kerish, perhaps you should take my dagger . . ."

  The Prince shook his head. "I've never worn one before so Ibrogdiss would notice."

  Forollkin frowned. "If anything goes wrong, yell and I'll come to you. Gidjabolgo has a knife now, and perhaps the two of us . . . ."

  "Every Frian on board has a knife, " said Kerish dreamily, "and some of them have bows. They would die to defend their Master, even from us. I'm going now."

  "You've got the handkerchief?"

  Kerish nodded and slipped out of the tent.

  On deck Ibrogdiss sat amongst a group of serfs licking the grease of fresh cooked fish off his fingers.

  "Good morning, young Lord. How is your brother?"

  "He is much the same as yesterday," answered Kerish, "and surely that is good."

  Ibrogdiss did not seem to have heard.

  "You are tired, young Lord, pale cheeks, dark rings round your bright

  eyes . . . you must rest."

  "I didn't sleep last night," said Kerish truthfully. "Ibrogdiss, will you come with me to feed Lilahnee? I thought last night that she seemed to be pining. Her coat is losing its lustre . . ."

  "The marsh kitten? Ah, it is often so. They are stubborn creatures and will sometimes starve themselves to death, but we can force food down her."

  `He is pleased that I'm making things easy for him', thought Kerish and flinched as Ibrogdiss rose and gripped his arm.

  "I will come with you, and Gűl shall look at your kitten; he is wise in their ways."

  The Merchant Hunter called to one of his serfs. Kerish could not think of a reason for refusing the man's advice, so the three of them went down to the hold together.

  lbrogdiss talked fluently of the difficulties of breaking a marsh cat's spirit until they reached the cabin door.

  "Let me go first, " said Kerish, "she's used to me by now. I'll call you in when I've got hold of her."

  lbrogdiss nodded and bent over one of the jars of lilies as Kerish slipped into the cabin, leaving the door slightly open. Lilahnee plopped down expectantly from the rafters and Kerish offered her the food he had brought. She did not attack it at once but stared at him, her whiskers twitching, as if she sensed his tension.

  Kerish tried to project a calm he didn't feel. Then he heard a movement through the thin wall that separated the two cabins. Kerish drew a handkerchief from the breast of his tunic just as Ibrogdiss called, "You have caught her, Lord?"

  "Yes," answered Kerish, "but wait a moment longer while I..."

  The door of the second cabin flew open and Kerish heard Dau rush out. He covered his mouth and nose with the handkerchief and kicked the door shut. For a moment there was pressure against it and muffled shouting. Then the sweet smell of gauza seeped into the cabin and the marsh kitten began sneezing. Kerish knelt down beside Lilahnee and tried to soothe her. For the first time the kitten let him hold her without struggling.

  Then the door was pushed open. It was Dau who stood there beckoning, the lower part of his face wrapped in green cloth. Kerish smoothed Lilahnee's ruffled fur and stood up. Already he could hear laughter and when he came out into the hold he saw that the serf was doubled up, laughing hysterically, while Ibrogdiss cried without tears. The smoking brazier that Dau had brought from his Master's cabin stood between them.

  Dau had burned a whole handful of gauza, worth a prince's ransom, and the effects were immediate. Even with the protection of the handkerchief, the fumes began to make Kerish light-headed. The serf went on laughing, as if he had never laughed before, but Ibrogdiss stared at the Prince and his eyes were full of horrors.

  "Young Lord, you are black inside like all the rest. Just beneath the skin, darkness. I thought your voice sweet, but it sang me into a worse dream."

  Kerish thought of his father alone in the dark, the lamp of his courage gone out, but Ibrogdiss' son was tugging at his arm. "We must go quickly."

  Kerish nodded, but first he darted back into the cabin. Lilahnee had retreated to the furthest corner, her coat fluffed out in alarm. She spat feebly at Kerish as he picked her up. Her weight told him how fast she was growing. Unless she would come willingly, he'd have to release her over the side.

  Supporting the kitten with one hand, and still keeping the handkerchief over his face, Kerish followed Dau through the hold. When they reached the ladder, Kerish said: "Surely someone will hear the laughter and come down . . .?"

  "My brothers will not hear till I say their ears are open."

  "They will be all right, Ibrogdiss and Gűl? The gauza won't hurt them?"

  "In an hour perhaps the dreams will be gone," said Dau.

  "And what will Ibrogdiss do to your brothers?"

  "They will say that he ordered them to let you take the boat, when the gauza was on him. He will not remember," promised Dau, "and he will not beat them hard for he will need every man to hunt us."

  "And they will obey?"

  "They will kill us," said Dau, "if the Master orders it."

  On deck the serfs went about their tasks in silence, ignoring Kerish and Dau as completely as if they could not see them. Struggling to keep hold of Lilahnee, Kerish half-ran to the tent, to be met by Gidjabolgo's scowling face.

  "It's done?"

  Kerish nodded.

  Gidjabolgo scuttled across the deck to help Dau lower the reed boat.

  Forollkin emerged from their tent with the carrying chest. "Kerish! You're not taking her!"

  Lilahnee had worked her way up Kerish's chest and was now digging her claws into his shoulders, her head beneath his chin.

  "She won’t be any trouble," pleaded the Prince. "Just sling my zildar on my back."

  "We'll let her loose when we reach the bank," said Forollkin.

  He fetched the Prince's zildar and then crossed the deck with drawn sword but no-one moved to stop them.

  In an eerie silence, broken only by the sound of muffled laughter from the hold, the four climbed down the rope ladder and into the reed boat. Kerish was greatly hampered by the marsh kitten but he doggedly refused to let go and when they were all seated in the boat she made no attempt to escape.

  Dau and Forollkin began paddling southwards. They didn't keep to the main river for long but turned up a backwater whose banks were covered with brilliant green moss.

  "No-one walks here," explained Dau, "or they will sink down over their head and be gone."

  "And the Green Hunter can't follow," said Forollkin, short-breathed from vigorous paddling.

  "No, but the spare boats can," murmured Gidjabolgo.

  They had all noticed the other two reed boats stored in the hold but Dau patted the knife tucked into his loincloth. "I have slit them. They must work to mend them, hours perhaps."

  "You inherit your father's slyness," said Gidjabolgo admiringly.

  Forollkin handed the Forgite his paddle and tried to find a space to sit down. The small boat was now very crowded and low in the water. Everyone seemed to be sitting on a pile of netting and Kerish, as the lightest, was perched on the chest with the marsh kitten in his lap. Gidjabolgo was now kneeling next to him, with his own shapeless bundle of luggage squeezed in beside him. Forollkin had to share his meagre space with a flask and a pile of flat loaves. However he sat, his own sword or the bow slung across Dau's back seemed to dig into him. Forollkin wondered how far it was to Lokrim and how long they might have to spend cramped together in the boat. Not long perhaps, the boat was too heavy to move fast and once Ibrogdiss had repaired his other craft . . .

  "Dau, will Ibrogdiss guess the route we might take?"

  "We are south now," answered Dau between strokes, "but soon we turn. We must hope he will think that we are going south. But the Master is wise, he may send men north too, and he will know the ways to take, the only ways."

  "But surely Ibrogdiss hasn't men enough or boats to cover all the possible routes nor
th and south?" asked Forollkin.

  "There is a village just up-river from the Green Hunter. He will get men from there and pay for their boats."

  Half an hour later they entered a stream that meandered north. The going was painfully slow since they could not hack away the reeds that impeded their path without leaving an obvious sign to any pursuers. They had to be quiet too, in case they startled some large flock of birds and betrayed their presence. Dau, Forollkin and Gidjabolgo took it in turns to paddle and soon only the Frian's hands were unblistered. It was oppressively hot, and the marsh kitten sat panting in Kerish's lap. To show her displeasure she occasionally bit his hand but she made no move to escape.

  At noon they stopped briefly in the shade of a weeping tree to share one of the loaves. Dau scooped up some river water into a clay cup and mixed it with a little girgan. Kerish could barely swallow it without choking but Dau assured him that the cup had been expensively blessed by the shaman of Ix-lith and the water would not harm him. Then they paddled on.

  The stream broadened out but was half-choked with gold and crimson lilies. At any other time Kerish would have found them beautiful, now they were simply an obstacle to speed. In the distance rose a solitary yalg mound and in another half-hour they had reached it. Dau hitched the boat to the nearest branch and slipped over the side. Cautiously he clambered to the top of the mound, keeping behind a screen of trees.

  In the boat Forollkin stretched his cramped legs and Gidjabolgo murmured, "And how far do we trust our Frian friend?"

  "Completely," said Kerish indignantly.

  "We can trust him then to kill his brother serfs if they attack us?"

  "No-one would ask him to do that," protested Kerish.

  "But if he won’t fight on our side, will he let the Lord Forollkin spit his brothers on that magic dagger of his?"

  "No-one must be killed," said Kerish. "If they catch up with us we shall have to try to persuade them to . . ."

  "Kerish." Forollkin spoke gently. "We'll try not to hurt anyone but we may have to. You, Ibrogdiss will probably spare, but we'll be fighting for our lives as well as our quest..."

  He broke off at the sound of Dau slithering back down the slope.

  "What did you see?" demanded Gidjabolgo.

  The Frian ignored him and, stepping lightly back into the boat, spoke to the Galkians.

  "Two boats follow, two village boats but perhaps some of my brothers are with them."

  "How far behind?" asked Forollkin.

  "Two hours, Lord, We must go on."

  Kerish tore strips from his thin blue cloak to bind Forollkin's and Gidjabolgo's hands. He offered to take a turn at paddling, but Forollkin told him bluntly that he would do more harm than good. Dau untied the boat and they moved forward at a faster pace. After an hour's paddling they reached a fork in the stream. Dau lifted his paddle from the stream and stared ahead frowning.

  "What is it?" asked Forollkin, grateful for the brief rest.

  "One stream is narrow, full of choke weed, very slow; the other is broad, deep, we can go fast, but perhaps it is too late in the day."

  "Too late for what?"

  "Or-gar-gee," answered Dau. "At noon they sleep, at dusk they hunt. We must be past the pools before they wake."

  "Or-gar-gee like the one Forollkin killed?" asked Kerish.

  "No, small, not so big, but still bad," said Dau.

  Forollkin's hand moved to the dagger at his waist. "We'll risk the or-gar-gee."

  Dau nodded. "We must be quiet, soft, no noise, no talk."

  Kerish tried to make himself comfortable on the hard chest. The constant spray of water from Gidjabolgo's paddle was welcome in the fierce heat. Surely it wasn't cool enough yet for an or-gar-gee to wake and hunt? The stream was bounded now by tall feathery grasses and the surface was a glass green, free from water-weeds or flowers. Within half an hour they had reached the point where the stream bulged into a small lake.

  Silently, Dau handed his paddle to Forollkin and knelt in the prow shading his eyes against the sun. After a few seconds he gave the signal and Forollkin and Gidjabolgo began to paddle as fast and evenly as they could. Nervously Kerish stroked Lilahnee's head over and over again and she began to purr. The noise seemed appallingly loud but no-one else seemed to notice and the boat sped safely across the lake, disturbing nothing worse than a cloud of amber butterflies.

  Once in a narrower channel again, they rested for a while but the sight of a swathe of crushed reeds, where an or-gar-gee had passed, spurred them on. When they reached the next sizeable pool, the Forgite took up his paddle and whispered to Kerish, "If we rouse an or-gar-gee you can always toss the cat to it."

  They were in open water before the Prince could reply.

  Dau's keen eyes searched the surface of the pool. Suddenly he raised his hand and Forollkin and Gidjabolgo snatched their paddles out of the water. Dau pointed towards the edge of the pool. Only Forollkin knew what to look for and he saw at once the dark nostrils of an or-gar-gee and the green glint of its snout. The ripples of its breath spread out towards them. Forollkin tried to guess how large the creature was and where the bulk of its body might be lying.

  Dau took Forollkin's paddle. They were beginning to drift away from the centre of the stream towards the sleeping or-gar-gee. Barely dipping his paddle in the water, Dau steered the boat, letting it glide forward under its own impetus for as long as possible.

  Kerish's hands communicated his tension to the marsh kitten. She twisted round in his lap to stare up at him. Kerish closed his eyes and concentrated on imagining himself on dry land feeding fish to Lilahnee. The marsh kitten flexed her claws contentedly. Kerish grimaced at the pain but made no attempt to unfasten her from his knees. As he opened his eyes again he saw Forollkin draw the High Priest's dagger, ready to lunge for the or-gar-gee's eye if the creature woke.

  They were no more than five feet from the submerged head when the shriek of a marsh bird jarred them all. The boat rocked slightly but the pattern of ripples did not alter. Slowly and carefully they moved across the pool and into the next narrow channel. After a few minutes Dau thought it safe to pause.

  Forollkin re-fastened the cloak he had discarded earlier in the day. The sun no longer beat down on them and the Galkians had been in the marshes long enough to know that the days cooled quickly as dusk approached.

  "How many more pools?" asked Forollkin.

  "One," answered Dau. "The longest."

  "Is it still hot enough to cross? Should we wait till tomorrow?"

  The Frian shook his head. "It is not good here. At night the or-gar-gee move through these reeds. We must go on."

  For the next half-hour they paddled the overladen skiff as fast as it would go. It was still light when they reached the third pool, but no longer hot. The evening breeze was rising, tugging at the reed boat so that Dau's skill in steering with the paddle was constantly needed.

  At the edge of the pool the Frian paused, letting the boat glide. The stretch of open water was so long they could only just see the gap in the reeds on the far side.

  "Lord," Dau twisted his head to look at Kerish, "your spirit will protect us? You have asked him?"

  Kerish nodded. "Yes, and you wear his charm."

  Dau plucked the zel piece from his loincloth, spat on it for luck and kept it clenched in his hand as he steered the boat forward. Gidjabolgo took the second paddle and Forollkin knelt with drawn dagger.

  They were halfway across before Dau spotted the or-ga-gee. He was forced to turn sharply for the creature lay in the centre of the pool. The ripples of its breath were enough to rock the skiff; the pool must be filled with its coils.

  Kerish closed his eyes as Dau steered towards the edge of the pool, in the hope of creeping round the or-gar-gee. He concentrated on a calm image: on sitting in the Emperor’s garden with Lilahnee on his lap, just as the Poet Emperor had once sat with his kitten, refusing to disturb her even for a council of state. All the great Lords and Ministers had been forced
to squat on the grass before the Emperor and the wind blew away their words. Kerish smiled as he thought of it and his own Lilahnee purred.

  Then, just as he had stopped expecting it, the boat caught on something. After a moment's frantic paddling it was free but the gentle ripples turned to waves as the or-gar-gee stirred. They had struck one of its coils. Bubbles of foul gas broke on the surface as the mud in the depths of the pool was churned.

  "Zeldin and Imarko aid us," whispered Kerish, and Lilahnee gave a mew of fright as a huge green coil surfaced just beside the boat, knocking the paddle from Gidjabolgo's hands. Water slapped over the bows as the coil submerged again. Forollkin leant over and grabbed the floating paddle just in time.