Kermorvan nodded. "Well then! So you at least would brave a journey into it?"
"Well…" Kasse's leathery face twitched, and the crowd laughed; he scowled again. "Not alone!" he barked. "Who would? Not you bastards, for sure!"
"You would not be alone," said Kermorvan. "A company would be sent—"
"Is this not the idlest folly of all?" cried Bryhon, and awoke clamoring assent from parts of the crowd. "How do we know there is anyone left alive in the east, or that they are worth the finding? They could have dwindled to nothing by now—"
"Or be as free and strong as we should be. I agree; we know nothing. We must find out. We must send a company eastward, scout and embassy both, and without delay."
Bryhon threw up his hands. "Can we in our need spare some such costly mission, let alone the huge war band it would require as escort? Its mere absence would weaken us, let alone its most likely loss. He has told us we bleed, which we knew full well already; now he seeks to open our wound still further. And in pursuit of what?" He shrugged. "The shadow of a memory. Or something worse."
"My lord Bryhon," sighed Kermorvan, "I conceived of no such great enterprise. Apart from your most wise objections, so great a force could not stir a league in those dark lands without drawing the attention of every perilous power. Or Powers." The emphasis was clear in his voice, and many stirred uneasily, and shivered in the noon warmth of the southern sun. "A small party we need, of men well hardened to wandering and to peril, yet led by those who can speak for the city, and perhaps also the north-"
"And do we not have such a man before us?" demanded Bryhon, not bothering to conceal his triumphant smile. "For you must be a most accomplished vagrant by now, and some, I feel, may account your absence welcome, your loss small. As to speaking, you have presumed to do little else this last half hour! So, my lord Kermorvan, I say to you go, and take with you the discord you have sown in this city! If your idea has one virtue it is that it would rid us of you. Lead this embassy of death, and I will gladly support it!" Breathing hard, the dark-haired man sprawled back in his seat among the cheers of his followers, grinning with delight at having so entrapped his adversary. Elof clenched his fists, and Ils cursed hoarsely; Kermorvan would have to refuse, and so appear to betray his own idea. But the warrior bowed solemnly to his adversary, and held the floor.
"I thank you once more, Bryhon, for saying what I wished said, though somewhat garbled. But I counsel you, do not measure me by the extent of your own ambitions, Bryhon. I have no wish to become your king, and nor do I enjoy sowing discord for its own sake, as it seems you do. Never, never will I be the center of bloody strife and division among my own people! Sooner than that I withdraw from among you, as I did before, and seek another way to help you. I will lead our mission eastward."
Both within and without the great chamber syndic and spectator alike stared in dismay and disbelief. The sight of them, agape like so many fish in a trawl, had Elof chuckling silently to himself. These great folk were as insular as his own villagers, unable to imagine an exile once returned ever leaving of his own accord. They had known Kermorvan's worth well enough, were glad enough to have his valor as their shield, but imagined they could treat him like a mere watchdog, tame him and chain him, if need be, with the threat of exile. Well, now they knew better. Even some of the syndics who had applauded Bryhon most loudly seemed alarmed, glaring openly at the dark man. But Bryhon sat stroking his curling beard, his long pale face calm, expressionless, with only the faintest glimmer in his narrow eyes.
"B-but my lord Kermorvan…" stammered the younger Marshal. "There was no thought of… We need you, the city needs…"
"Lad, lad, how can this be wise?" barked Kathel, and then, because he knew his man, "How can it be honorable? To toss away your life on such a shallow venture, when your city needs you? That way east, it's a hundred deaths, plain and fancy. Chance is we'll never see you more! And then, if you're right—I believe you, mind—if the Ekwesh do come back—"
"Then trust to the northerners!" said Kermorvan curtly. "That defense I leave you, if only you are honorable in accepting it. And you, Kathel, shall hold the Northern Marches in my stead. Hearken well, for that is my herald's fee, my price for peace. I exact it as a pledge from all present—you, Bryhon, most of all. You shall decree and depose an oath that from tonight you shall no longer close your gates against the northerners, but treat them with honor and justice. You shall admit them as citizens and equals, subject to the same rights and laws. And you shall allot them land in the country to settle and grow food for themselves and the city; we have it, and to spare, since so many were slain."
"But if they bring more Ekwesh among them?" shrilled a youngish man in ornate green robes.
"Now they are on guard, I think you may leave it to the northerners themselves to stop that rat hole," said Kermorvan, with grim humor. "Remember, a mere likeness of skin will not deceive them! What better guards could you wish? Enough, then! Will you swear? Or are you so eaten away by old hatreds that you will see the city fall to slake them?" He spoke to the assembly at large, but his glance fell clearly upon Bryhon Bryheren.
The tall man shrugged, and met Kermorvan's gaze with a grin. "I'll swear," he chuckled with jovial contempt. "It may just be worth a few northerners to be rid of you. We might even civilize them, in time. I'll even suffer a merchant to be Marchwarden, in these upended days. Why, I'll go so far as to wish you success in your venture, scant though I fear the profit will be."
"Strange how once Bryhon has sworn, the mood of the syndics eases," Elof muttered to Ils, as he heard them take the oath without a word more in dispute. "And yet his followers are no majority."
"They have been more concerned with avoiding clashes between Kermorvan's faction and Bryhon's," she whispered back. "At any cost, for it might upset their own comfortable lives. Who was right, and what was best for the land, that walked a long way behind. Small wonder the Ekwesh caught them napping."
The session lasted only a little longer, time enough to make formal the decree and to install Kathel Kataihan as Warden of the Northern Marches. For all Bryhon's jibes, he was a popular choice; from his travels he knew the northern borders better than most, and though not a warrior he had made a wise commander in the siege. But that he was so easily accepted marked the hold Kermorvan had gained upon the syndics.
"You see, I learned my lesson well among your folk, Ils," he smiled as he met them on the steps outside. "That one may get what one wants by bending before a wind, as well as standing up to it."
"You did well," said Elof soberly. "The northerners are deeply in your debt. But the cost to you…"
Ils nodded fiercely, forgetting her aches. "To exile yourself again, and so soon—did I not say these men were ungrateful? Among my folk you had more honor than this!"
Kermorvan threw back his head and laughed, a rare thing in itself. Then, still chuckling, he rested his forehead against a cool pillar. "And to think one of my ancestors forbade nobles to perform upon the public stage! Do you not see? Why else do you think I maneuvered Bryhon into demanding it? This is what I want!" And indeed he looked happier and more carefree than he had for many a day. "To be no more a focus for strife and intrigue, to be no more an intriguer myself! Can you not guess how great a burden that has been? To be free from the follies of this place, and wander through the world once again, on a great quest… The east! Long have I dreamed of seeing its shores, and the wide ocean over which men first came here from ancient Kerys! And you will come with me, will you not? Did I not say you would hear matter to make you think?"
Elof stared. "I must follow—"
"The path of the sunrise, aye! And where do you think I go?" insisted Kermorvan. "I need men of mettle in my company! Why should we not set out together? Face the perils of the inner lands together as we did the mountains and the sea? We will surely fare better together than apart! Well, do you hesitate?"
"Not I!" Elof laughed. "I was taken by surprise, that is all. Of course I'll co
me, and glad of it! It was loneliness I'd come to fear the most."
"And you, Ils?" Kermorvan turned to her. "Will you…" But Ils had vanished from the steps. Many in the streets had seen her, heading back to Kermorvan's house, and when he and Elof returned there the servants assured them she had come in, and not since passed the gate. Yet when they looked for her she could not be found; gone from her room was her scant gear, nothing left save a simple message on a table. "Fare you well, and may the Shaper speed you! And may we meet again … "
"She has gone, then," said Kermorvan unhappily, passing the note to Elof. "As she said she would, and secretly lest we entreat her too greatly to come. Well, I cannot blame her; she has deserved better of this city than it has given her. May we meet again, indeed!"
But that night in his bed Elof drifted out of dreams, vaguely aware of a shadow that seemed to slip across the floor and bend over him as he lay. "Ils?" he mumbled.
A quiet chuckle. "I awaited the safety of the dark, when I can see and you humans cannot. Where better than here? But I could not resist…" She bent down, and her lips pressed hard against his a moment, he breathed her breath. "Fare you well indeed!" she whispered, and crushed his hand to her. Her wide eyes gleamed in the blackness. "It's only that I cannot…" She rose and vanished. He sat up, suddenly awake, but heard nothing, not even the faintest footfall on the stairs. Only the heat of her breath seemed still to course through him. He found it hard to sleep again.
Next morning he was unsure whether or not he should tell Kermorvan. But when he went down to breakfast he was saved the decision, for he found Kermorvan deep in conversation with a rotund man, blond of hair and beard, and was startled to recognize him as Ermahal, skipper of the corsairs.
"Well now, sir—sirs," he corrected himself, with a respectful nod to Elof, "there's all kinds of reasons. See, we all of us bought off our outlawry by rescuing the women, fine. And we 'ad a fair whack in booty put by; there's some of the lads turned their share to good use and settled down. Some stopped one in the siege, rest their scabby souls. But others, well, they've shed it one way or t'other, through gaming or skirts or whatever."
"Would I want such fools as followers?" inquired Kermorvan.
"Ah, but they're not all of 'em fools," protested Ermahal, tapping his long nose. "Some're just plain wild, money or no. Fact is, there was reasons we were outlaws, all of us, and we ain't changed in a day, no, nor a year neither. Piss-poor citizens we make, but corsairs, adventurers by sea or land, well, that's another matter." He drummed his fingers on the long table, managing to look at once sly and diffident. "You were our real skipper, sir, no gainsaying that, not that I ever resented it. We've followed you before, and it wasn't us as ran off an' left you, was it, sir? But we'd be glad to take up with you again. And you, sir smith," he added hastily, bouncing up to bow to Elof. "We've seen your mettle too."
Elof smiled. "Lord Kermorvan alone is our leader, not I. But how many do you speak for?"
"Ah," said Ermahal, and began to reckon on his fingers. "'Bout twenty, sir, there being some downed by drink or disease."
"Too many, I fear," said Kermorvan. "Our company must be small, its members men of experience—that huntsman Kasse might prove useful, for one. And there should be some northerners among them, to show that we can fare together in peace. I am having it cried both through the city and the northern camps that we seek such men. Our company must be ready to depart in a matter of weeks."
Ermahal shrugged. "Well, sir, the pick's yours. But I've sailed rivers as well as seas, and that might be useful; I'd be glad if you'd count me in, and Maile the bosun, you know what a hard nut 'e is…"
Kermorvan nodded in amused remembrance. "So be it! I'll start my choice with you both." He cut short the skipper's grateful protestations with a lifted hand. "Remember, this is no wild venture, wagering peril against a chance of plunder! Death weights the scales, and the greatest prize on our side may simply be survival."
Ermahal plucked at his scanty beard. "Aye, well, I'll settle for that. I've always had a fancy to cast an eye on that Eastern Ocean. Might be they're short of corsairs in those parts."
Elof laughed, but Kermorvan's smile was sterner. "Or they may have an excess of gibbets," he said. "You are a great rogue, Ermahal, though a brave one. Leave your corsairs' ways here in the west, lest I hang you myself."
The fat man chuckled. "Like I was sayin', sir, we ain't all changed in a day. But I'll skip to your tune till journey's end."
"Do so, or you may dance your last. But you will not go unrewarded, if it is in my power."
When Ermahal had gone Kermorvan suggested they take the sun upon the roof awhile. Elof sensed why; from there they could look out over the whole city, across the wide squares and high buildings of the Old Quarter, down along the plunging streets of the newer circles to the half-repaired breach in the outermost wall and beyond it the dark shading straggling over the plain that was the northerners' town of tents and huts. The sun above was warm, the breeze light, and yet where sky met distant mountain gray streaks mustered. "The clouds gather," said Kermorvan. "And while we are gone they will surely close in further still. There is little enough time left us to save this place. I did not say this to the syndics, for fear of closing their minds altogether with scorn, but it may not, as they think, be a matter of summoning easterners westward. Our wounds are too bloody, our healing too slow. If the Eastlands can offer any refuge at all, it is we who may be forced to flee."
"Eastward, aye!" The smithy was hot, for they were casting silver. But nonetheless Roc shivered. "Over the mountains and into the Forest—brrrh! League after league of it, and full of who knows what. Run north and there's the Wastes and the Ice. Run south and there's the Wastes and the desert. Freeze or burn. Or worse."
"That's just what I need!" laughed Elof. "Encouragement! It's all very well for you, you're not going—"
Roc put down his ladle with a clatter. "And who in Hella's name'11 stop me?"
Elof stared at him. "Are you serious? You are serious! Roc, you're daft! Here you're well settled, you've the best smithy in all this town and Kathel for a patron. In a year or two you'll be rich."
"Aye, and when I told you as much, it didn't stop you, did it?"
"Well… But I've a purpose, Roc…"
"And haven't I?" growled Roc. "I'll be rich, says you? Aye, just in time for the Ekwesh."
"Yes… But Roc, this journey must take more than a year at its swiftest. What about Marja? Doesn't she have some say?"
Roc shrugged. "I never promised her anything, she's no claim on me. She'll have the smithy, of course, with old Hjoran; they'll manage fine till I get back. She waits. Or she doesn't."
"Roc, you well know there's a chance you never will get back! I don't want to drag you away…"
"Understood," grunted Roc, "but it's my decision, nobody else's. If you're too daft to stay, someone's got to keep an eye on you. And I fancy a share of the sport this time, see? You won't shake me like you did before!" And indeed when, some three weeks later, the time came to depart, Elof was no nearer managing it.
It was a motley group of callers that came knocking on the gates of Kermorvan's house that evening as the sun slid down behind the clouds of early spring. First to arrive were two tall men clad in rough green and russet, marked as northerners by their copper skin. Gise and Eysdan were their names, and they hailed from villages far inland, on the margins of the dense northern woodlands; they themselves were foresters, men accustomed to rove freely under the shadow of trees, wise in their lore as few sothrans were. They both bore broad falchions, Gise a short bow of strong Wisant horn and Eysdan an immense long-hafted axe. They were quiet men, exchanging only curt greeting with the noisy corsairs who came straggling in soon after. Though they had obviously been celebrating their departure, it encouraged Elof to see them no worse than merry. Besides Ermahal and Maille, Kermorvan had judged only three others sound or trustworthy enough to make the journey; they were all sothrans, men of the sea but wi
th some experience of wandering on land. Dervhas, Ermahal's helmsman, and Perrec had been deserters from Bryhaine's small war fleet, and Stehan a hand on a trade ship; Borhi, the youngest, had been a fisherman till exiled for killing a man in a drunken brawl. After them came the hunter Kasse, slipping shadowlike into the courtyard, and then three more northerners, Tenvar, Bure and Holvar. Lighter skinned than the foresters, they were burghers' sons of Saldenborg who had fought in that rich port's brief but heroic defense, and made their way south through many hardships, passing scatheless through the Forest's arm. They too were merry, but what worked on them like wine was new hope, a fresh light in eyes that had long worn the dull gaze of the fugitive. Their new garb and weapons put swagger in their step and flourish in their salutes to Kermorvan, seated at his ease beneath the yellow-crowned locust tree in the center of the yard. Last to arrive were Roc and an older Sothran of somewhat the same aspect, Arvhes; chosen at Kathel's suggestion, he had been a trader of his caravan when Roc and Elof met it, and spoke the northern tongue well.
When all this company was assembled, Ferhas brought wine. Kermorvan pledged each of the company in turn, and they drank his health. It was no time for greater ceremony; thoughts of the paths they must tread weighed upon them all, and the only words exchanged now were quiet inquiries about gear and provisions. "We must do our best to slip away unnoticed," Kermorvan had decided. "For one thing, Bryhon's rabble might gather to bid us a warm farewell; for another, if there are any spies about, better they cannot say what time we left, or by what roads."
A file of ponies was led out of the old stables, and they busied themselves loading their baggage. Their vestigial side-hooves marked the beasts as of the Northland stock, short of leg and coarse of coat against long-limbed Sothran breeds, but Elof and the other northerners rejoiced to see them. The sothrans were not so sure. "Sight too free with the flamin' teeth for me!" grumbled Ermahal, skipping awkwardly out of one irritated beast's way.
The Forge in the Forest Page 6