At the sound of her name, the marsh cat licked Forollkin's hand with her barbed tongue.
"Ouch, demon cat, you'll take my skin off!"
He pushed her away, so Lilahnee entwined herself round Kerish's legs until he knelt to stroke her soft green fur.
Forollkin shouted to Gidjabolgo to unload the last bundle of food. He left the horses cropping the lush grass, knowing they would not stray far. Gidjabolgo doled out three meagre portions of dried fruit and unhooked a flask of wine from his saddle-bag. The travellers sat down at the base of the mound, grateful for a partial shelter from the wind.
Forollkin took a sip of wine, swilling it round his mouth to get rid of the cloying after-taste of the fruit.
"What I wouldn't give for a well-roasted garpin!" he declared, with a sigh that was only half-mock.
"Are you regretting you came, brother?"
"No," answered Forollkin seriously. "I have travelled a long way from Galkis and from what I was there. Elmandis and Sendaaka have taught me that the world is wider than I thought, and full of terrors. I'm not as sure of anything as I was but I'm beginning to see wonders as well as terrors. Perhaps by the time we get back to Galkis I'll feel more like one of the Godborn."
"And I less," answered Kerish, but he was smiling in pure delight. "You may make a warrior of me yet."
"I'll pledge to that," said Forollkin, but as he raised the flask, Lilahnee streaked down the slope, the hair stiff along her spine.
"What is it . . . danger?"
They all knew it would be rash to ignore the marsh cat's warning. Gidjabolgo moved towards the horses but Kerish raced up the mound and stood, silhouetted incautiously, against the skyline. He saw at once that it was too late for escape.
Barely a quarter of a mile away was a hunting party of some twenty Erandachi warriors, riding long-horned, russet-furred Irollga. Their hoof-beats were muffled by the thick grasses but they were making straight for the mound. Forollkin joined his brother and immediately reached for his bow. Kerish shook his head.
"We must show that we are peaceful, and Sendaaka promised that the Erandachi would respect the silver in my hair."
"She also told us that they kill strangers," said Forollkin grimly, but he stood motionless.
Gidjabolgo looked up at them, bewildered.
The Erandachi wore sleeveless tunics of green and cloaks of dazzling scarlet. Their braided hair jangled with ornaments of carved bone and each man had a short spear in one hand and a whip coiled round the other. They had obviously seen the travellers for the leading rider shouted something and the spears were raised.
Gidjabolgo stumbled up the slope to join the Galkians.
The Erandachi circled the mound. At a single command the Irollga stood with their horned heads lowered and the first rider dismounted and walked to the edge of the grass. Kerish guessed him to be about forty years old, since there were strands of grey in the chestnut braids and his pale golden skin was deeply scored. Forollkin, noting the breadth of the man's shoulders and the obvious strength of his arms and thighs, guessed he would still be a hard opponent in a wrestling bout. Both the serenely arrogant bearing and the bronze weapons and ornaments, marked him out as a chieftain.
The Chieftain assessed Forollkin and Gidjabolgo with a brief glance but looked long and hard at Kerish before he spoke.
"Stranger, why do you tread on soil sacred to the Mountain Goddess, where only her Torgi may walk?"
The accent was strange, but the man was speaking Zindaric and Kerish understood him.
"Because I bear the mark of the Goddess," he answered, "and we are under Her protection."
This reply seemed to satisfy the Chieftain. He nodded to his men to lower their spears, and spoke again.
"What is your tribe, stranger? Why have you left your circle?"
"My father is a Lord of Galkis, far in the East," said Kerish hesitantly, "but my mother came from Erandachu. Her name was Taana, she. . ."
There was a murmur of surprise from the Erandachi and the Chieftain paced forward.
"When did your mother come to the land of the Galkis? How many winters?"
Kerish thought for a moment. "Twenty-two."
"And she is dead?"
"Yes."
"Come to me."
Kerish obeyed and the Chieftain touched the silver streak in Kerish's hair.
"Such eyes," he said. "The eyes are strange but you are hers and I take you into our circle, the circle of Tayeb."
He cupped his hands over Kerish's heart and the Erandachi shouted in salute or welcome.
"But who are these?" asked Tayeb. "It is our law to kill strangers who see our holy places."
Kerish beckoned to Forollkin. "This is the son of my father."
"Then he is of our circle too."
Tayeb held his hands over Forollkin's heart for a moment.
"And the ugly one?"
"Gidjabolgo, our travelling companion."
"He is not of your kin?" asked Tayeb.
The Prince shook his head.
"Then he is not ours and he has defiled the Holy Place."
Tayeb summoned one of his men, who slid off his Irollga and calmly raised a spear to plunge it into Gidjabolgo.
"No!"
Kerish stepped into the path of the barbed spear as it thrust forward. With an oath Tayeb pushed the man aside. The spear flew crookedly from his hand and thudded into the ground an inch from the Prince's foot.
Forollkin saw the anger in Tayeb's face, but before he could move the Chieftain had seized Kerish by the wrists and slapped him hard across the cheek. The Prince gasped and nearly fell.
"I have a right to defend my companion!"
"To speak in his defence, yes," answered Tayeb, loosening his painful grip, "but not risk your life! You belong now to the tribe. We have only two Torgi and your life is precious. If you will not guard your body from foolish risks, you will be punished until you learn."
"You must not hurt Gidjabolgo," said Kerish stubbornly, "he is my servant, he belongs to me. You should respect that."
One of the tribesmen spoke quietly to the Chieftain. "There is a use the ugly one could be put to at the Great Gathering."
Tayeb frowned. "The Council shall decide, until then he shall be a slave of our circle. You, kinsman . . ." he turned to Forollkin. "You have no scarlet cloak and your hair is not braided, and yet you carry weapons. Do you claim the status of a warrior?"
"Yes, among my own people I am judged a warrior," answered Forollkin firmly.
Tayeb nodded but the small, red-haired man who had spoken about Gidjabolgo looked Forollkin insolently up and down and said: "His weapons are strange, let him sleep in the tents of the women or the old men.
"He shall be tested, Enecko," promised Tayeb, "his skills will be judged by all the tribe."
Enecko smiled, as if he had won a point in some long-standing competition, and bowed to his Chieftain.
"Mount your beasts," ordered Tayeb. "We shall return to our tents and..."
The Chieftain spun round as every Irollga bucked and brayed. Lilahnee, who had been sitting quietly in the long grass, had suddenly left her hiding place. She bounded across to Kerish, who hastily put his arms round her to protect the marsh cat from raised spears.
Tayeb had drawn his bronze knife, but now he rammed it back into its sheath.
"This creature is yours?"
"She travels with us," said Kerish.
Tayeb knelt beside Lilahnee.
"She is like the great white hunting cats that kill young Irollga, but she is smaller and I have never seen fur of such a colour."
"She comes from the marsh lands," explained Kerish, "and her name is Lilahnee."
Tayeb smiled suddenly. "She is beautiful."
He stroked her head and after a moment Lilahnee's growl softened into a purr.
Then Tayeb got swiftly to his feet and ordered his men to bring round the horses. Kerish glanced at his brother who shook his head, very slightly. For the moment there
was nothing they could do but submit to the Chieftain. When everyone was mounted, Tayeb called to the Prince to ride beside him. Kerish was fascinated by the Chieftain's sturdy, long-furred Irollga and the ornaments dangling from its leather collar and painted horns. Tayeb was no less interested in the horses.
"I have seen a horse once before, though that was black. The Chieftain of the Bokeela rode one to the Great Gathering. I know that he traded many Irollga skins for it and that it came from the East, perhaps from your Galkis. Our Torga was right to say that everything about you would be strange."
"Your Torga . . .?"
"She dreamed that we should find a Torgu in the Holy Place, sent by the Goddess in answer to my prayers."
"So you came to meet us?"
"Yes, though many did not believe, and even I doubted."
Kerish tried to take in the implications of what Tayeb was saying.
"Why did you doubt your Torga? Has she never had a true dream before?"
"Only rarely, like all Torgi in these times; besides," Tayeb's voice softened, "she is my daughter. It is hard to believe that your own child can be touched by the Goddess."
"I understand. But why did the others not believe?"
Tayeb scowled. "You will find that not all our tribe revere the Goddess, or worship the Hunter of Souls in the new ways. Some murmur that the Goddess has left us and will never come down from the High Places again. They will show you little respect if my dagger is not near, but that shall soon be changed. Kinsman, what name have your father's people given you?"
"Kerish, Kerish-lo-Taan. My brother is Forollkin."
Tayeb repeated the names slowly.
"The name of Taana's first son should be Talvek. Your brother must have a tribe name too, but that can be chosen after the Testing."
Kerish began to ask about the Testing but they were abruptly challenged by three mounted warriors.
"Who comes to the tents of the Sheyasa?"
"The Chieftain of the Sheyasa, " called Tayeb.
Staring at the strangers, the three sentries lowered their spears.
It was the first of many challenges, and a mile further on, just over a slight rise, Kerish saw the vast herd that the sentries were guarding. The gentle females kept for their milk, were grazing freely, but the fierce Irollga bulls were tethered, and the geldings, soon to be broken for riding, were kept in makeshift pens. Beyond the herd were pitched circle upon circle of brightly dyed leather tents.
The Erandachi dismounted and, in spite of the Galkians' protests, the horses were taken away to graze with the Irollga. Tayeb led the travellers up one of the muddy avenues that went deep into the Sheyasa encampment. Women, old men and children peered from their tents, or left their cooking fires to stare at the strangers or exclaim over the marsh cat.
Tayeb pointed at Forollkin. "Take him to the tents of the warriors and prepare him for the Testing."
"No, I will stay with my brother," said Forollkin.
"You will see him before evening," answered the Chieftain and gestured to his men. Two of them grabbed Forollkin's shoulders and pushed him through the entrance of a large scarlet tent. Kerish heard his brother arguing angrily as Tayeb hurried them on.
Finally they stopped in what seemed to be the centre of the encampment; a circle of beaten earth, surrounded by squat blue tents patterned with many-coloured felts and hung with strips of carved bone.
"Kinsman, we will drink together in my tent," said Tayeb. "Take the slave to his place."
Gidjabolgo was seized and tethered by a leather thong about his ankle to a pole standing outside one of the tents.
"He may enter your tent if you need him," said Tayeb, "but he cannot stray far."
Gidjabolgo yelled abuse and tugged at the thong but Kerish was too worried about Forollkin to protest for long.
He found himself pushed through the flap of a large tent, divided into several rooms by embroidered hangings. There was no furniture, only pelts on the hide-covered floor and hanging lamps that burned Irollga fat and gave out an unpleasant smell and a wavering light. Kerish copied Tayeb and sat down cross-legged on one of the thick furs.
Almost immediately a woman entered, carrying two bronze cups, filled with fermented Irollga milk flavoured with herbs. She knelt gracefully, her braided hair brushing the ground, and set down the cups. She was not young and had never been beautiful but her calm grey eyes and the smile twitching at her lips attracted Kerish.
"Here is the Torgu of Gwerath's dream," Tayeb was saying. "Kerish-lo- Taan, this is Eamey, the first woman of my tent."
Eamey bowed, and made the sign of a circle with her hands. After a moment, Kerish did the same.
"Welcome, tribesman." Her voice was low and resonant.
"It is as a kinsman of my circle that you should welcome him," said Tayeb. "Taana lived long enough after her circle was broken to bear a son."
"She is dead?" asked Eamey. "I have often prayed that the spear of the Hunter brought her a swift death."
"My mother died loved and honoured," said Kerish. "You knew her?"
Tayeb spoke first to Eamey, "Fetch my daughter," and then to Kerish, "Taana was my only sister."
"Your sister!"
Tayeb smiled and lifted his cup. "Gwerath dreamed well and I praise the Goddess for sending home my sister-son. Our circle is complete again."
He drank and the Prince also swallowed a mouthful of the sour liquid.
"Uncle ..." Kerish savoured the word, "Uncle, my brother must not be harmed."
"He looks strong," said Tayeb, "he will be accepted, never fear."
"Accepted by whom?"
"By the warriors of our tribe. Is it different in your father's tribe?"
"Tayeb, everything is different in my father's circle. I know nothing of your tribe or its customs."
"Nothing?" Tayeb put down his cup. "Then my daughter must teach you. Knowledge does not matter as long as the power is present and no-one could deny that you belong to the Goddess. Did She send a dream to guide you home?"
"No. Uncle, you must understand, we didn't mean to come here and we cannot stay here long . . ."
Tayeb smiled. "You will stay and learn to understand Her will for you. The circle cannot be broken. The Hunter of Souls has lowered his spear."
Before Kerish could ask who the Hunter was, Tayeb had risen to greet a young girl who threw her arms about his neck.
"Do you doubt my dreams now, father?"
Her grave face and the proud tilt of her chin were belied by the glee in her voice.
Tayeb pushed her gently away.
"Your dream did not tell us the best news; that we should be welcoming your cousin."
"Cousin!" She turned and stared, unabashed, at Kerish.
He stared back and judged that Gwerath was a little younger than himself. She was dressed like a boy and wore a bone dagger at her waist; but her hair, a tangled mass of purest silver, fell unchecked to the small of her back. Kerish had barely time to take in the honey-coloured skin, the large grey eyes and the short nose, slightly crooked where it had once been broken, before Gwerath was kneeling before him and placing her hands in a circle over her heart.
"Welcome kinsman," she said. "You look just like you did my dream. I told you about the eyes, didn't I father? Purple and gold and black!"
"You also told me of two gold and purple birds fighting over a silver feather drifting on the wind, and where are they?"
The bubbling spring of Gwerath's laughter suddenly ran dry and Kerish was sorry for her.
"No doubt it was the symbol of some great truth, cousin."
"You are skilled at interpreting dreams? That is good," said Tayeb. "Gwerath, take your cousin to his tent and see that he has the proper robes. I will fetch you to the Testing when it is time."
"Oh cousin, what a beautiful creature, and the gold of its eyes!"
Fearlessly, Gwerath knelt to caress the marsh cat. Lilahnee's tail thwacked impatiently but she let herself be petted.
"Daughte
r!"
"Oh yes, come cousin . I don't know your name."
"Kerish."
They left the Chieftain’s quarters and Gwerath led Kerish to a blue tent lavishly equipped with cushions and furs. The Prince's luggage was piled in one corner and some strange clothes and ornaments had been laid across a straw pallet.
"See, I have prepared everything. I knew you would come," announced Gwerath. "The Goddess doesn't send me many dreams but I was sure about this one. You have brought some wonderful things with you. Are they really from Galkis? Is it true that a great Chieftain lives there in a city all made of gold?"
The Children of the Wind (Seven Citadels) Page 12