Dau hissed a frantic order and they thrust the boat forward. Kerish turned, expecting to see the great head rise from the waters, the single eye open ... but the or-gar-gee twitched once more, violently rocking the skiff, and slept on.
For three long, agonizing minutes they paddled steadily across the slowly settling pool, while Gidjabolgo used the Frian's cup to bale out the skiff. Even when they reached the channel Dau would not let them stop until they had rounded a curve and were out of sight and smell of the pool.
Lilahnee was complaining bitterly over her drenched fur, clawing at Kerish's knee. He hardly noticed her.
"Or-gar-gee do not wake quickly," said Dau with a smile, "drowsy, big and stupid."
"How much further before we can stop?" asked Gidjabolgo.
There was blood on his bandaged hands.
"Not far," said Dau, taking up his paddle again, but it was another hour before they reached a large gir mound and the Frian let them tie up the boat.
They clambered stiffly out, ducking under a tangle of roots and branches. Near the top of the mound there was enough space for the four of them to lie side by side but it was muddy. Forollkin sacrificed his cloak for them all to sit on and Dau divided another loaf.
There was nothing for Lilahnee and the marsh kitten struggled in Kerish's arms. Reluctantly he put her down. Lilahnee sniffed at the bread and then darted off the cloak and into the trees. Forollkin grabbed his brother's arm. "No, Kerish, you're not moving from this spot. It's nearly dark and you'd never catch her."
For a few minutes the Prince stood where he was, calling softly to the marsh kitten while the others ate. Finally Forollkin persuaded him to sit down and take his share of the bread.
"I'm sorry, Kerish, but perhaps she'll be happier free. She is wild after all." He turned to Dau. "Should we set a watch? How far will those two boats be behind us?"
"Four hours now, or five," answered Dau. "They will not enter the or-gar-gee pools and be caught there at dusk."
When Kerish lay down beside his brother on the cold, damp ground, he was sure he would never be able to sleep, but exhaustion rapidly overcame discomfort. Disturbed once in the night by the sound of an or-gar-gee crashing through the reeds, he merely rolled closer to his brother and slept again.
Just after dawn he was woken by something cold and sticky falling against his cheek. He sat up quickly to find that the marsh kitten had returned, bringing him a present of a mangled frog.
Forollkin woke to see his brother hugging Lilahnee, and was rather less impressed by her hunting prowess. Gidjabolgo stretched and yawned. "Encourage her, we may yet be grateful for her leavings."
Dau had been checking the boat and he returned with another damp indigestible loaf. When they had eaten and warmed themselves with sips of girgan, Forollkin bundled up his filthy cloak and they scrambled down the mound to the boat.
Throughout the long day Kerish sat on the hard chest, constantly shifting to try and ease the ache in his back and wishing there was something he could do to speed their journey. His only occupation was noticing the different species of birds and flowers and the dark head of an occasional animal, swimming for its burrow.
For part of the day they were passing through gir groves and were forced to take a tortuous route to avoid the many roots snaking across the stream.
When they emerged into the open marshes Forollkin took the second paddle again. His arms were aching with the strain and his hands were a mass of blisters. Gidjabolgo was in a worse state.
"How long will Ibrogdiss keep up the chase?" asked Forollkin.
Dau shrugged. "Three days perhaps, or four, not longer. There is gauza to be gathered."
"And do you think we can keep ahead that long, even with our present advantage?"
"I do not know Lord, our boat is heavy and we are slow for..."
"Gidjabolgo and I are not used to paddling," finished Forollkin. "Well if the worst comes, we'd better stop in a defensible place. You have a bow . . ."
"Lord," said Dau quickly, "I have thought. There is a way we can take, where the others will not follow."
"What way?"
Dau pointed to the shadowy groves a mile or so to their west.
"Yalg," he said, "but at night the zzaga sleep, all but the hive guards and if the moon is good . . ."
Forollkin glanced at his brother. "All right then, the yalg groves."
At dusk, Dau found a patch of stable land and they all got out of the boat. The Frian cut two long stout reeds and over these he draped the net they had been sitting on. All but one section of it he fastened to small wooden hooks that stretched along the boat just above the water line. Once they were back inside, the net was loosened just enough for the two paddles to go down into the water.
Lilahnee disliked the cage of fine meshed net and struggled in Kerish's arms.
"If she tears the net with those fledgling claws..." began Gidjabolgo, his hand on the dagger at his waist.
"I'll keep her still, promised Kerish.
It was dark now and they shared another loaf, waiting for the moon to rise. Dau murmured prayers while the others ate, till Gidjabolgo said abruptly, "If you wanted the gods to save you, you should have stayed with Ibrogdiss. The gods save those who never place themselves in danger."
It was too dark to see the Forgite's face and Dau was clearly puzzled.
"You think I am bad to have run from my Master?"
"I think you are bad to have ever served him," murmured Gidjabolgo. "Tell me, if the zzaga kill us all, what happens to you after?"
"I cannot speak of it before my Lords," whispered Dau.
"You mean you don't like to tell them that they have no hope, though the gods have a fine new life waiting for obedient serfs?"
"What Masters have is here," began Dau carefully.
"What you have is here!" snapped Gidjabolgo. "You and your brothers throw away your lives for a dream. A dream like gauza, bringing sweetness in despair."
"No, the gods . . ."
"Your gods are the Merchant Hunters..."
"Gidjabolgo, stop it!"
The Forgite turned to Kerish. "Your pardon, Master. I did not know you honoured the gods of Lan-Pin-Fria. I was only trying to pass a weary time with pleasant chatter . . ."
"The moon's rising," said Forollkin.
They took up their positions and for about fifteen minutes paddled through open country towards the yalg groves. Dau peered anxiously ahead. If any obstacle blocked the channel they would have to turn back, if there was space to do it.
Lilahnee seemed to be asleep. Kerish was perched on the chest and his hair brushed the netting. At the first sound of a zzaga he would have to crouch down with his head in his lap or it might sting him even through the net.
His eyes were adjusting and he could see the yalg trees shadowing the pallid moonlight. Above the soft splash of the paddles and the sound of his own breathing, Kerish heard a faint humming. The noise was not as threatening as when he had last heard it, but it brought back the shrieks of the dying Frian.
They were under the trees now and it seemed very dark. The stream was narrow but deep, and branches arching over it constantly blocked out the light. Dau took the lead paddle from Forollkin and steered them round a floating log. The scent of gauza was faint but pervasive.
Glancing up, Kerish saw one of the orchids nestled in the fork of a tree. Its garish colours were bleached by the moonlight but the marks on its petals were like bloody fingerprints. How many had died for such flowers over the centuries?
For ten minutes the boat glided forward. Once they thought that a branch stooped over the stream was too low to let them pass. Very cautiously Forollkin loosened the reeds that held up the net, lowered it a little and they were through. The soft humming grew louder as the stream led them close to the hive itself. Kerish was afraid to look for it among the trees, as if even a glance might alert the zzaga to their presence.
They were near to the edge of the grove when all of them heard a ch
ange in the even humming. It was closer, louder, more urgent. Dau stopped paddling and let the boat drift and Kerish glimpsed a flash of green amongst the trees. It was a lone zzaga flying in circles. At first it did not seem to have felt their presence, then the skiff bumped against one bank. Dau pushed them off again for they were dangerously close to a spiny tangle of bushes that might tear the net.
The zzaga narrowed its circle and flew over the stream, over the boat. Kerish ducked, pressing his face against Lilahnee's fur. The humming changed to a fierce staccato. Kerish knew they had been heard and expected at any moment to feel the creature beating against the net, but the noise was already receding.
"It has gone for the warriors of the hive," whispered Dau. "We must go fast."
The skiff jolted as Dau and Gidjabolgo plunged their paddles in the water. They had perhaps a minute before the humming surged again and a dozen zzaga with the broad green stripes of the killer insects hurled themselves through the trees and on to the boat.
Lilahnee growled in protest as Kerish pressed down on her, shrinking from the net as the angry insects struck against it. Gidjabolgo had stopped paddling but Dau hissed an order and the boat moved forward again. The zzaga followed. Forollkin knelt holding the reeds quite steady. 'They can't get at us,' thought Kerish, 'not unless a branch tears the net. But if we stick on something, by day there'll be hundreds of them. We could never get out to free ourselves. We'd starve till we chose to die by their stings' . . .
Dau and Gidjabolgo were paddling steadily forwards but with fascinated horror Kerish saw three zzaga hook their feet into the net, inches from his face. They swarmed over it, buzzing furiously, searching for a weak place.
"Keep your head down, Kerish," Forollkin was saying, "and mind Lilahnee's tail."
The marsh kitten was snarling at the zzaga. She batted at the net with her paw just once before Kerish grabbed her tight. The humming drilled into his head.
Forollkin was drawing the High Priest's dagger. Slowly and carefully, never getting his hand too close to the net, Forollkin prodded the nearest insect with the tip of the dagger. It clung still but the humming changed and Kerish knew it was hurt.
The skiff bumped against the bank again. Dau could hardly see to steer for the insects crawling in front of him. Forollkin reached over and patiently waited his chance to stab each one of them. Then he called to Kerish, "Can you take the dagger and hold Lilahnee?"
Gidjabolgo took one hand from his paddle to pass back the dagger.
Kerish straightened just a little and slowly moved the dagger towards the nearest zzaga. He was terrified of cutting the net, but it was strong and almost a quarter of the sharp blade would pass through the mesh. He felt it pierce the soft belly of the insect, felt the zzaga writhe, hurting itself irrevocably as it twisted on the dagger. `This is the first live thing I've killed', thought Kerish. His hands were shaking as he tried to withdraw the point and scrape off the zzaga.
Several of those Forollkin had injured had now fallen dead from the net. The humming was still fierce but at night the hive slept and the guards were few. Kerish spitted a second insect and a third. He could see them quite clearly and suddenly he realized what that meant. They were out of the grove. Four or five zzaga still clung to the net, with a few more wounded.
In spite of the increasing pain in his bent back, Kerish waited calmly for each insect to crawl within his reach as they feverishly searched the net. It was almost a pleasure now to feel the point going home. They were paddling through reed thickets and Kerish wondered how far the insects would follow them.
Dau seemed to answer his thought. "We must kill them all, or they will cling for ever."
It took another hour to be certain. Even then they didn't dare take down the net and camp on dry land. Desperately uncomfortable they huddled together in the boat for what remained of the night.
At first light Dau paddled them to a gir mound and they got out of the skiff. The Frian wrapped his hands in cloth before disentangling the last of the dead insects and folding up the net. Kerish stood rubbing his back. It hurt him to stand straight and he was cold and hungry and tired but he smiled when Dau said, "They will not catch us now."
Chapter 4
The Book of the Emperors: Secrets
And Kal-Vairn built a great wall, not to make a division between the two peoples but to show the gulf that was already between them and the peril of crossing it.
By their third day in Lokrim, Dau had found two Frians willing to guide the travellers north. Forollkin went out with Dau to help in the protracted negotiations and to buy new cloaks and boots for hill walking. Kerish and Gidjabolgo were left behind in the house of a leather worker who was Dau's uncle. There were only two rooms and the whole house stank of the hides curing in the yard.
The travellers were occupying the women's quarters, a pile of cushions behind a tattered screen. Dau's mother had been born where they now sat and sold into serfdom after a bad year's trade. It was a usual fate for artisans' daughters and Dau did not appear to resent it. After the discomforts of their journey, the tanner's house had seemed a haven to Kerish. Now he was bored and anxious to be moving again.
Dau and Forollkin returned in time for the dismal evening meal of dry bread and stewed yalgor roots. Forollkin flopped down on the dusty cushions.
"Well, we've hired a couple of boats and two Frians to paddle them, Aűg and Lal."
"Lul," amended Dau, "they are brothers."
"Yes, Lul. They don't speak much Zindaric but they know the route north. They'll take us as far as a place where the Pin-Fran runs underground; the Forbidden Hill."
"Why forbidden?" asked Kerish.
Dau looked uneasy.
"Frians do not go beyond the Hill. The marsh gods forbid it. The brother of my mother says that those who climb the Hill do not come back. Lords, there is nothing north but rivers and grass and the great hills. Do not go. I will find a ship to take you south, back to your own country."
Forollkin smiled. "Don't worry. We've no intention of dragging you beyond this Forbidden Hill. We'll give you enough gold to start a new life anywhere in Fria."
"We will be safe," Kerish assured the anxious Frian. "Our spirit sends us beyond this hill, and you know that it is strong."
Dau delved in his loincloth and brought out the zel piece. "But you will need your charm."
Kerish smiled at him. "No, keep it to protect you always."
"I will not need it for what I must do," said Dau, "but I will keep it." He stared at the gold and purple feather in his palm. "Lords, may I speak?"
"Say what you like, and we'll be grateful for the advice," promised Forollkin, "but we must go north."
"Lords, you should not take the ugly one," began Dau. "He speaks against the gods and will bring you bad luck."
"All my life I have brought bad luck," said Gidjabolgo calmly. "I don't deny it."
Forollkin sighed. "We are bound by an oath to take Gidjabolgo, and in any case, we couldn't abandon him in the heart of Fria."
Dau bowed his head. "I have said."
Kerish broke the awkward silence. "When do we leave?"
"Tomorrow," said Forollkin, "early."
They were woken by the street noises not long after dawn, but Dau had already gone. At first they thought he was out buying more provisions. He had left a message for the travellers with his uncle but it was several minutes before Forollkin understood it.
Gidjabolgo was bundling up his luggage and Kerish was soothing the marsh kitten when Forollkin strode back behind the screen. Kerish stared at his brother's grim face.
"What's happened?"
"Dau has gone back to Ibrogdiss."
"I don't understand," said Kerish blankly.
"He took the reed boat," Forollkin sounded as if he couldn't yet believe it, "and is paddling back downstream to find his Master."
"But surely Ibrogdiss will never forgive him."
"Our host tells me that the usual penalty for such disobedience is the los
s of the left hand," said Forollkin, "or the nose and ears."
"He deserves it," muttered Gidjabolgo, with curious vehemence. "They all do."
"Couldn't we go after him?" pleaded Kerish. "Try to catch him up."
"He has two hours' start," answered Forollkin, "and his uncle wouldn't help us. He seems to think that Dau is right to go back. The only thing our host will do is take us to the landing stage and see us north."
The Children of the Wind (Seven Citadels) Page 7