Six Heirs

by Pierre Grimbert

  “When I’ve caugh’ ya, I’ll make ya eat yer tongue,” he mumbled under his breath.

  “If you can catch me, I’ll eat it myself,” someone answered loudly.

  Nuguel ran toward the alley he heard the voice coming from, thrilling with fierce joy at the prospect of finding the whistler.

  The only thing he saw—but from too close—was a thick beam that brutally smashed into his forehead.

  Rey wondered if he should kill the now unconscious guard. But as he hadn’t, after all, raised the alarm, had fallen for the trap, let Yan pass right behind him, and, finally, collapsed without a sound, Rey decided that he had played his role perfectly and Rey would spare his life. Plus a nice bump on his head and minus a purse.

  He didn’t wait around by the body lying on the ground, which he simply dragged a little further into the shadows. Then he exited the Leem gateway himself.

  The young Kaulien was no longer visible, but Rey could still hear his horse’s gallop. It was best that he make a quick getaway as well, so he hastened his step.

  The first thing he thought of, after putting some distance between himself and Berce, was to wash up. Even after more than a dékade, he wasn’t accustomed to the distinctly strong odor that was part of his disguise. And it hadn’t improved over time. From time to time, the stench would overwhelm him, as if the rot he had rolled in was still fresh. He had struggled to not be sick. But the idea was a good one: no one had spoken to him in a very long time.

  Well, at least until the young Kaulien arrived.

  He suddenly realized that he hadn’t even thought to ask how many heirs were left, and who they were. The young man wouldn’t have given him an answer, anyway, but he still must have come off as pretty self-absorbed.

  He’d worry about that later; he had done his best. If they didn’t show up, well, he would just figure it out on his own, as always.

  In the meantime, he would gather his things, hidden a half league away, and above all else, wash up.

  After all, he was going to meet his family.

  Time was of the essence. Thanks to the beggar, Yan was able to leave the city without difficulty, but he had to exit through the east gate and he needed to go west.

  So he traced a long detour to skirt around Berce without being spotted by the guards posted at the other gates, and to avoid sowing curiosity among any potential onlookers. And, of course, he got lost for a moment. On foot, he believed he could maintain his bearings anywhere, even in unfamiliar places. But on a horse...did this animal understand the simple concept of going straight? He had his doubts. Fortunately, he ended up finding the road again and he sensed he was getting close now.

  Ultimately, a lot of things had happened in Berce, and he was anxious to tell all about it, especially those parts that concerned the stranger in the hills and the beggar. Of course, he no longer believed he was a genuine beggar.

  Yan had also been granted the opportunity to taste the real danger they faced. He had now become a target as well. It only scared him a little; he’d expected to be implicated sooner or later. Strangely enough, he was even happy about it, because he could share it with Léti.

  What worried him the most was the apparent lack of solutions to their problem. The Züu seemed more than determined and appeared to have significant resources at their disposal. He had started to realize that it would be difficult for him and his friends to resume a normal life someday, if they ever could.

  So, he might as well take advantage of the present. Not much longer and he would see his dear Léti. In a few decidays, the sun would come up to greet the Day of the Promise. The moment he had been awaiting for so long. He thought it better to keep his mind on that.

  He finally reached the fork in the road where he had to penetrate the thick shrubbery. He uttered a short prayer to Brosda in which he pleaded not to get lost, as he kept doing. The god must have heard him, because he quickly came upon the small, ramshackle house they had established as their camp the evening before last.

  Something wasn’t right.

  The place seemed deserted.

  Upon inspection, he was completely certain: the place was empty. There was no remaining trace of his friends: no horses, no bags, not even warm ashes. Nor a message, or any sign at all.

  Yan sat down on a moist stump and listened to the sounds of the night. He felt very tired.

  Léti felt as if she had abandoned her friend. Shortly after Yan left for Berce, Grigán had ordered them to pack up camp. Infuriated, she had protested, hurling insults and menacing remarks, prepared to force them to come around to her point of view, until she finally listened to the warrior’s explanations.

  Grigán simply wanted to move the camp just in case someone followed Yan on the way back, or made him talk. It still took a lot of argument and promises from Corenn and Grigán before she finally gave in.

  So they left the abandoned hut and moved a bit closer to Berce, and set up a new camp at a spot chosen by Grigán.

  Léti, calmer now, was a bit ashamed about the things she had said to the warrior under the sway of her anger. Thinking that they were abandoning Yan, she had called him a liar, a callous old man, a traitor, and other names, many of which Léti regretted. If her aunt had not intervened, they would have surely come to blows; that was how much her fury had deafened her to the warrior’s explanations.

  Still, he sure had a way of putting things. And this habit of never asking anybody anything, giving orders as if it were only natural. Just because he had a bow and a scimitar? Perhaps that impressed the others, but not her.

  She had had enough, more than enough actually, of simply submitting to what happened to them. All those people she loved, dead. Herself, Yan, Corenn, threatened. Worse, hunted. And they expected her to do nothing, to serenely await Grigán’s good favor? Didn’t she have a say in this?

  And the first thing to do was to arm herself. She wouldn’t let herself be caught powerless in front of a determined assassin as she had been on the road from Eza. She could still remember the supreme calm of the three men, their simultaneously cruel and detached expressions, and the way they surrounded her and Corenn, slowly tightening like a vise.

  Never again. Never again would she put herself at the mercy of someone else. Never again would she stand there paralyzed, waiting for the fatal blow.

  She wanted to fight.

  She pulled out the fishing knife that Yan gave her and began diligently training herself by throwing it at a dead tree.

  Corenn and Grigán, who were talking some distance away, stopped to watch her.

  “Cursed Züu,” the warrior said under his breath. “The poor girl is in an utter state of shock. It will take some time for her to get over it; and I know of what I speak.”

  Corenn responded solemnly, “It’s sadder than just that, do you see? She has lost her innocence, her peace, her youthful ignorance. She has lost her childhood dreams. She has lost her self-respect. Cursed Züu, she’s an adult now.”

  They contemplated it for a moment.

  “You knew it would happen someday,” Grigán said in a consoling tone.

  “Of course, but not so brutally. She has changed dramatically in just a few days. I have lost my Léti.”

  The warrior felt uneasy. He hated to see Corenn so sad, and would have preferred taking a physical blow. He looked for something to distract her.

  “You know, she isn’t doing too bad.”

  Corenn couldn’t hold back a smile.

  “Now I have really seen it all,” she concluded, a little mysteriously to a disconcerted Grigán.

  Yan settled into the abandoned house for the rest of the night, but couldn’t get to sleep. His thoughts invaded his dreams, flashing a frightening jumble of images in his mind: Léti, Grigán, the beggar, the murdered man, the flirty Lorelienne, Léti again, the Züu, the innkeeper, the flashes on the hill...

  He was awake more often than asleep, mulling over, as best he could in this dreamy state, what he might do. He figured the be
st thing to do was to stay put for a day or two, hoping to see his companions return. But pessimism was winning out, and he began to imagine them taken by the Züu, dead. He slipped into a brief moment of drowsiness, which quickly threw him into a nightmare where his fears became reality. He jerked awake and pondered it over again, still indecisive.

  Which is why when he heard Grigán’s voice calling him from outside, at first he believed it was another phantom emerging from his sleep. All the more so because it was dark. But the call repeated, again and again, and Yan awoke completely. He leaped from his bed, and noisily threw the door open.

  There was the warrior, a few yards away, a drawn bow in his hands, which he lowered at the sight of the young Kaulien.

  “What happened? Where’s Léti?” Yan asked, approaching him.

  “All is well. All is well. They’re not far from here.”

  Yan closed his eyes as he let out a great sigh of relief. My, was it good to be alive!

  He opened his eyes to the warrior standing before him, busy scrutinizing the surroundings.

  “For your sake, I hope you have a good explanation,” Yan said, in a voice full of implication.

  “We moved the camp for safety reasons. I came here this morning to wait for you.”

  “Uh huh.”

  Yan wanted to argue a little bit with the warrior to make him pay for the torturous night that he had just endured, but he was too good-hearted for that. Furthermore, he was far too relieved by the happy ending to provoke a quarrel.

  “What happened? You aren’t supposed to be here for at least another deciday or so. What if I hadn’t come earlier?”

  So now Grigán was the one getting angry all on his own.

  “I came looking for you. I have a lot to tell you, but we need to hurry.”

  “Did you see any other heirs?”

  “Yes. Well, maybe. But I’ll tell you about it when everyone’s listening.”

  Needless to say, it was with great haste that the warrior led Yan to their new camp. Léti and Corenn rose and came to greet them as soon as they finished tying up the horses.

  “Yan, oh, you look awful!”

  It was the first thing Léti could find to say. She had worried so much about him that to see the bags under his eyes and the exhaustion on his face was like a confirmation of her fears. She realized her insensitivity afterward, and came over to him to plant a kiss on his cheek, adding, “But we’re still very happy to see you.”

  The kiss dispelled all of Yan’s fatigue; he now felt ready to face an entire army of Züu killers. Soon, the sun would rise on the Day of the Promise. Soon, Léti...

  “So?”

  Grigán was pacing around impatiently. It was understandable. Yan cleared his throat and began, “For the moment, the most important thing I have to say is that someone was sending signals from the hills behind Berce. I’m sure it was one of your own, because a group of Züu rushed off in search of him immediately afterward.”

  “There are Züu in the village?” interrupted Léti.

  “Several. At least five, maybe more.”

  “They didn’t catch him?”

  “No. I’m nearly sure of it, after seeing the Züu come back with such disappointed looks on their faces.”

  “What were these signals like?”

  “Uh...Not natural. Steady. There were two kinds: a strong one, and a weaker one.”

  Grigán and Corenn exchanged a look.

  “A cyclops,” said the warrior.

  “A what?”

  “A cyclops. It’s a sort of complex instrument, about a foot long, fitted with two mirrors and a lens. It’s used during large hunts in Arkary.”

  “Bowbaq?” suggested Léti, hopefully.

  “It’s definitely him,” answered Corenn, smiling. “Mother Eurydis, may it please be him!”

  “Who is he?” Yan inquired.

  “A very, very good friend. The nicest man in the known world,” answered Corenn. “And the rest, I’m sure.”

  “You know, he’s the one who knows how to talk to animals!” added Léti.

  Of course. Several times, she had told him the story of this tall, bearded man who charmed a standing sleeper during one of the heirs’ meetings.

  Yan had always thought it was just a prank pulled on a gullible little girl, but had never said anything. Either way, everyone seemed to like him, so he had to be a nice person.

  “Whoever it is, he’s going to be in serious danger if we don’t act extremely quickly.”

  He told them about how he responded to the signals, and then about the conversation he overheard from his bedroom. He was quite pleased with the admiring looks Léti gave him when he got to the most dangerous parts.

  “Bowbaq certainly isn’t waiting right next to the spot where he made the signs,” Grigán said, having given it some thought. “Knowing him, he must have left a trail leading to him.”

  “A trail? Just an ordinary trail, that’s all?”

  “A trail of Arque signs. They form a genuine language. For the most part, they’re composed of combinations of about ten elements: rocks, pebbles, branches, bark, bones, fabric, nuts, and I can’t remember what else. You can, for example, indicate the direction and distance to a given village, as well as whose clan it belongs to, the size of its population—everything with one single sign.”

  “What should we do? We’re already too late if we can’t outpace the Züu!”

  “I know the main signs,” Grigán replied casually, as he stood. “All right, we’d better get going quickly.”

  “Where did you learn the signs?”

  Yan knew that the warrior hated questions, but he couldn’t help it.

  “I spent two years traveling across Arkary,” he answered simply. “Bowbaq himself took me in for several dékades. If it’s him on that hill, the Züu won’t take him without getting a taste of my steel.”

  The warrior never ceased to surprise him. How many things had he done and seen over the course of his existence?

  Everyone was bustling about now, packing up camp. Yan still had plenty of things to recount, but it would have to wait.

  They set off, deciding to risk the road in order to move swiftly. Grigán gave them a formal order to remain silent, since voices carried further than the muffled sound of horse hooves on wet ground. So, for a long time they were quiet. However, not long after sunrise, Léti couldn’t refrain from questioning Yan.

  “Why are you looking at me so strangely?”

  Yan blushed all the way to the roots of his hair. Here they were, finally, on the Day of the Promise, and the first thing he did was embarrass them both.

  “No, no, I’m just thinking, staring off into space, that’s all.”

  He spent a good part of their ride trying to decide if, when, and how he was going to propose to Léti, causing him to break into a cold sweat. He didn’t even dare look at her anymore.

  One moment, he would decide the circumstances hardly lent themselves to that sort of thing. Then a moment later, he could recall the demonic look in the Züu’s eyes and decide to make the most of his life, and live it to the fullest.

  When Grigán asked him to take the lead and guide them to the spot where the flashes came from, he obeyed with relief. He absolutely had to focus on something other than the proposal.

  In no time, their enemies would be following this same trail, stronger, more numerous, and more determined. Somewhere ahead of them, their ally didn’t suspect a thing. They were his only hope, and they had to act quickly.

  He devoted all his attention to locating the spot, racking his memory, which, fortunately, was very good. It was harder than he thought it would be. The landscape wasn’t the same as seen from Berce, and he had few reference points, since all the wooded hills resembled one another.

  Wooded hills...Of course! This Bowbaq must have made the signs from the top of a tree, he was almost sure of it!

  All they needed to do was locate the tallest tree in the area. Obviously, Bowbaq would
have thought to mark the beginning of his trail with a sign that was easy to find.

  Yan explained his idea to Grigán in a few words; the warrior recognized its merits. Galvanized by the support of the warrior, Yan hopped off his horse and began scaling a tree whose weakest branches were collapsing under the weight of its sweet fruits. He reached the top in a few moments.

  The landscape was magnificent from this vantage point. Beyond Berce to the south sprawled the immense and peaceful Median Sea.

  In all other directions, the landscape was covered with trees shaded by the magic of the Season of Wind in a palette of green, brown, and ocher.

  It had been almost a dékade since Yan had seen the sea. He, who had practically spent his whole life on the shore, didn’t realize how much he’d missed it.

  Grigán “asked” him to hurry up. With a sigh, Yan finally began the search for his tree. It didn’t take long to find it; in fact, it was less than three hundred yards distant.

  But something else he saw prevented him from declaring victory.

  He let himself slide down the length of the trunk. Léti and Corenn observed him with a surprised expression. Grigán gripped his blade and shot sweeping glances around them.

  “The Züu,” whispered Yan, pointing. “They’re over there.”

  Grigán dismounted his horse and came over next to the boy, without taking his eyes away from where Yan had pointed.

  “How many are there?”

  “I don’t know, at least seven or eight. Well, they’re not all Züu, actually, but the others work for them.”

  “Are they far? Did they see you?”

  “No, I don’t think so. They’ve all got their eyes glued to the ground. They must be looking for Bowbaq’s trail. They’re about four hundred yards out. Fortunately, they’re moving away from us.”

  Grigán paced back and forth, stroking his mustache, a sure sign of agitation. Then he took his turn scaling the fruit tree.

  “They must have changed their plans following my escape last night,” Yan murmured, saying aloud what everyone else had concluded.

  But he hadn’t told them everything. He went on. “One of theirs was killed when I went to retrieve my horse.”