*
Two days later, we neared the bear-place, Arweth-Cifflu, as Vart calls it. Heavy summer rain was pounding the scrubby heath. It pressed the smell of wood-smoke to the ground. From the edge of the forest we could see a colourful crowd winding round the newly carved totem, chanting in deep, whispered voices. It reminded me of the continuous rumbling base note of a church organ.
The crowd seemed in sombre mood. Nothing like the joyous high spirits I had witnessed at the Cursus. I spotted Blaith in the middle of a group of grandly robed elders and priests. His wolf mask face paint looked freshly done beneath an impressive plume of eagle feathers. His braided hair was bound with thin strips of coloured leather. Magpie, kingfisher and jay feathers decorated a choker around his throat.
As he saw the two of us approaching, he called to a priest at the head of the processing crowd and pointed us out. The priest stopped the proceedings and waited on our approach. The chanting faded, and the solemn crowd turned to face us. A path formed through them leading us to the totem where a group of about twenty priests and monks were gathered.
I stepped up to the high priest. He was not difficult to spot. On his head was an extraordinary cone shaped hat. It was delicately painted with images of stars, phases of the moon, running stickmen, and the rising sun. Frankly it looked silly, and reminded me of a wizard’s hat in a children’s story book, but this was deadly serious, and I was never more scared. I had seen similar designs carved in to the door-post totems of the temple in the city, and again here on the new totem. Made of bleached leather the hat was about a meter high. It had the regal patina of something ancient and highly respected. It was clear I was facing the city’s most important man, a man more powerful even, than Blaith himself. Two attendants stepped forward and with great ceremony, removed the hat from the high priest’s head. Slowly stepping backwards they carried it as though it was as fragile as sculptured snow, and placed it upon a special litter dressed with flowers.
The high priest pulled himself up to his full height and looked at me with canny, suspicious eyes. He wore a white leather cloak decorated with similar patterns to those on the totem and the great hat. Like an idiot, I blushed when I noticed he was naked beneath the cloak. Luckily he didn’t seem to notice.
‘Fy Serren, pen-esgoth gulathol afon bash pobl,’ he said. I am Stars, chief priest of the river bend people.
Beside me Vart pointed to the sky and then waved his hands near the ground like a slithering snake. I didn’t get it. Was this guy telling me he was a sky snake?
Blaith stepped up, his chest puffed out with self importance. ‘You say me. I say him,’ he said pointing at each of us in turn.
Not for the first time, I realised that Blaith had once been sufficiently interested in the dog-man-on-the-leash to learn his language. What had changed? Why was he now so hostile to him?
‘Tell him, I am pleased to meet the – err – him,’ I said, hoping this would be a sufficiently respectful greeting.
Blaith grunted and spat, making it clear that diplomacy was not his thing.
The priest spoke again, and Blaith listened carefully. I saw Vart’s face light up too, and he nodded agreement with whatever was said.
Turning to me Blaith translated. ‘You fly here. You come Lued?’
I knew that lued meant moon, and I realised they were asking me if I came from the moon. I thought for a moment before answering, not that I was unsure of my origins, but it occurred to me that they might mean the moon as in, goddess, and not simply big round thing made of cheese. If I claimed to have come from a goddess, especially the one who just happens to be their most revered deity, they might expect me to be capable of great things, and as I can’t even boil water without burning my fingers, I decided to cool it.
‘Nath. Nath, onth dun,’ I told them. No. No, I’m only a man.
‘Onth dun? Blaith asked, disbelieving. ‘You fly. Him see.’ He searched the faces in the crowd until he spotted a cowering man. ‘Ty doth.’ You come.
The man stepped forward, miserably. Blaith jabbered at him, his voice rising to a furious yell. The man dropped to his knees weeping and protesting. He kept looking up at me and pointing. I could not recognise the words, but I could deduce that the poor creature was trying to convince Blaith that he really had seen me fly. I supposed he must have seen me time leap - appearing suddenly out of nowhere. Telling Blaith that I was flying had probably been his only way of explaining what he’d seen. This might also explain why Blaith and his men had come to the bear-place that day. They weren’t out hunting bear, they were looking for me, the man who flies.
Blaith was losing patience with the poor man. He drew his axe and raised it threateningly. I had to stop it. I could not stand by and see yet another innocent man killed because of me.
‘Nath! Atal,’ I yelled. No! Stop. I stepped up to Blaith and met his gaze defiantly. I gently placed my hand on his axe and pushed to lower his hand. Staring suspiciously into my face he allowed me to take the axe from him.
I saw my torch hanging around his neck, and touched it gently, meeting his wolfish gaze directly. I thought about the set of spare batteries I had in my back-pack. Perhaps this was the time to gamble on using them.
I spoke directly to Blaith in a whisper that only he could hear. ‘Does Lued still shine from here, or has she gone?'
I was guessing that the batteries would be dead by now; their magic squandered. No doubt he was hiding the fact from his followers. He stared back at me from his wolf's head mask, but did not answer.
I leaned close to his ear and whispered. 'I will put Lued back inside, but you must friend me and Vart. What does Blaith say?’
He stared at me thoughtfully, and again I sensed his wary regard for me, just like the first time we had met. It was not fear, but a sort of grudging respect. I handed him back his axe, and put my hands on his shoulders in a very public gesture of embrace. His expression seemed fixed for a long time. He just stared back stonily - then suddenly, he relaxed, embracing first me, and then Vart. The cowering man at his knees breathed a visible sigh of relief and scampered away into the crowd.
Time Rocks Page 30