by Tim Stead
There was no answer to that, but Callista was surprised that the Snake was sharing her private domain. She looked out, away from the mountains, and it was like looking across the sea. Islands of trees and rock dotted the landscape, but it really was an ocean of grass.
“It is beautiful,” she said, and it was, though perhaps a little monotonous for her taste.
“Come,” Sithmaree said. “We have more ground to cover, and tomorrow I will teach you how to hunt.”
They rode the rest of the day at an easy pace, and Sithmaree spoke from time to time, pointing out water holes, special trees, places where things had happened, but mostly they rode in silence below a vast sky and the wind blew fitfully out of the north, bringing cold gusts and the scent of winter.
As evening drew near they came to a small wood nestled in a shallow valley, and Sithmaree led the way down through the trees along what might once have been a path. They came to a spring, and a pond, and Callista saw that one had been dammed to make the other, and in the trees behind the spring were regular shapes. It was a house. At first she thought that it was a ruin, a crumbled relic of ancient times, but Sithmaree swung down from her horse and walked into the trees. Callista followed.
What she saw amazed her. There was a stone door, twice her height and several paces across. It was set into a wall not much higher than its lintel. Sithmaree put her hand to the door and it opened smoothly swinging wide upon a view that was hard to credit. There was a garden here, in the middle of the wood.
Beyond the wall, and un-guessed at from the thicket outside, there was a lawn, a pond, and what might have passed for a terrace. A low building stood embedded in one wall that might hold a few rooms, but what surprised Callista most of all was that everything was well kept. The grass was trimmed short, the pond clear as glass, and the trees, those few ornamentals that had been invited within the walls, were neatly cut. She could not see so much as a fallen leaf.
“How?” she asked.
“It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” Sithmaree said. “The snakes keep it for me. I didn’t know if they would after the Benetheon ended, but they do. They have kept faith with me.”
“But this is a secret place. Your place,” Callista said.
The Snake nodded. “I had a house with servants once, but it did not suit me. There was always too much noise. This is better.”
Callista looked around her in awe. It was perfect, in its way – a model of peaceful solitude, but she was not so enamoured of snakes.
“I do not understand why you are showing me this,” Callista said.
“You are my ward,” Sithmaree said. She walked over to the terrace and began to unpack the saddlebags she had brought with her. “It is my duty to protect you. If you ever need a bolt hole, a place to hide, you can use this. The door will admit you and once inside the snakes will protect you.”
“Because I am yours,” Callista said. “I am in your favour.”
Sithmaree stopped unpacking and looked at her. “How did you know this?”
Callista shrugged. “Pascha told me,” she said.
“I did not even know that she could tell,” Sithmaree said, seemingly not put out at all. “But who can say what a god mage can do? Will you have a glass of wine?”
There was food, too, and they sat on the small terrace as the sun set through the trees. The Snake lit two oil lamps so that they could talk on beyond the end of natural light, and talk they did for many hours.
*
In the morning they rode out from Sithmaree’s nameless place, heading south until they found a herd of animals. Callista had not seen anything like them when she had crossed the plain, but the wind had changed in the night and now blew from the west so she supposed these had not caught their scent.
There were hundreds of them – something like the woodland deer that were hunted in the kingdoms but smaller, lighter and probably faster.
Sithmaree withdrew back over the rise so they could not be seen. She pulled a pair of unstrung bows out from her saddle.
“You know how to shoot?” she asked.
“A little, but it was never encouraged.”
“Well you will just have to do your best,” the Snake said. “You ride well enough at any rate.”
Sithmaree showed her a new way of riding, stooping low over the horses neck, and leaning to one side so that her shape blended with that of the horse, and she managed that quite easily, but she could not see how she might shoot from that position.
“The skill is to hold the horse with your legs alone, leaving your hands free to hold the bow. Try it.”
She tried, and promptly fell. The Snake laughed. It was one thing to grip a horse with your legs while upright and balanced, but quite another to do so when bent over and sideways. She did not think that her right leg was strong enough to hold her.
“Hook your left foot in the stirrup,” Sithmaree said. “Twist the strap round the ankle if you need it shorter.”
She tried it, and it worked, but when the horse began to move she felt so unsafe that she dropped the arrow and used her left hand to grab the pommel of her saddle.
“I can’t do this,” she said.
“It comes with practice,” the Snake told her. “You can’t expect an egg to fly.”
She practised, but by the evening she was still barely able to aim the bow while hanging from a walking horse. She doubted that she could hit a house at twenty paces, never mind a running deer.
“We have to eat,” Sithmaree said eventually. “Leave Telsirian tethered to a bush and crawl to the top of the rise. I will show you how it’s done.”
Callista did as she was told. When she was set she watched Sithmaree ride past her, laid almost flat along her horse’s flank. Down in the valley the herd of deer looked up when she crested the rise, but almost at once most of the heads went back down to the grass again. A horse was no threat. There were plenty of wild horses out on the plains. Even so the herd began to move slowly away from Sithmaree’s path.
The horse didn’t gallop. It ambled easily across the plain, keeping its right side and its rider hidden. It was simple when you saw it like this, and obvious. The deer allowed the horse to approach within thirty paces of the periphery of the herd, and it was at that point of closest approach that Sithmaree leaned a little further down and shot beneath her horse’s neck, just one arrow, but it was a true shot, and a deer fell, slain outright.
But Sithmaree wasn’t finished. The deer seemed unsure for a moment where the danger lay and ran all ways across the grass. She sat upright and took two more shots before they passed from range, and two more deer fell.
The herd was quickly out of sight, and Sithmaree rode to each of her three kills and hoisted them into the saddle with her, not bothering to dismount. She tied each to the pommel by its hind legs and rode back up to the rise.
“There is a place nearby where we can camp,” she said as she approached. “We must get these cleaned and cooked. They will keep better.”
Callista mounted Telsirian and followed. They rode over a couple of low hills and down a valley to where a small pond surrounded by spindly trees marked the beginning of a stream. Sithmaree dismounted, not bothering to tether her horse, and at once began to set about the carcases with a knife.
“You can make a fire,” she said. “You know how?”
“I can gather wood,” Callista replied.
She went among the trees in the fading light and collected an armful of fallen branches of varying sizes. She had no idea how to light a fire in a wilderness like this. Her fires had always been lit for her, even in her uncle’s house. She was unwilling to admit to another lack, however, so when she had deposited the first pile by the shores of the pond she went to find more, hoping that Sithmaree would have lit the fire herself by the time she came back.
It was getting steadily darker, and by the time she had searched out another armful she found herself quite distant from the lake and a little unsure in which direction it lay. She stopped a
nd listened to see if she could hear the horses, or hopefully the crackling of a fire.
There was a noise to her right, and she turned.
There was a shape among the trees. If they had been anywhere else she would have said that it was a man, but there could be no men on the Great Plain. It was forbidden. The shape loomed between two trees, and if it had been a man it would have been a very large one.
She heard a horse whicker. It was behind her.
“Who are you?” she asked. She felt no fear. It was almost as if she had expected to meet something or someone in the trees. The shape, whatever it was, didn’t reply. She felt it watching her, but there was no malice, just fierce curiosity.
“We have food,” she said. “Are you hungry? I’m sure Sithmaree won’t mind…”
At the mention of the Snake’s name the shape moved suddenly, as if looking from side to side.
“It’s all right.” A voice behind her this time – Sithmaree. “It’s only Shadow. He wouldn’t hurt anyone, would you, Shadow?”
The shape – Shadow – moved closer. Callista took a step back and Sithmaree passed her. Even in the gloaming she could see that the Snake was carrying one of the deer carcases. She laid it on the ground and stepped back.
“We should go now,” she said to Callista.
“Wait.” It was Shadow that spoke, in a voice that was barely human. Sithmaree waited, still and silent as a tree. Shadow made no move to retrieve the deer, but stood quite still, a dark presence in the thickening night. Callista waited too.
Shadow took another step forwards. It was only a little more than arm’s reach from Callista now, and still she could see nothing but darkness. There were no eyes, no ears, no single feature she could see that stood out from the creature, whatever it was. It was simply a piece of the night that walked and talked.
“I see her,” it said.
As soon as it said the words Shadow stooped. Picked up the deer carcase as though it was light as a stick and vanished.
Callista stared into the almost-night, her eyes straining for anything in the last embers of twilight, but there were only trees and grass, and the carcase of the deer had definitely gone.
“Come,” Sithmaree said. “He is gone, and the fire is alight.”
She heard the Snake walking away, but paused a moment longer, searching the trees and shadows for some sign. There was nothing. She turned and hurried after Sithmaree.
“What was it?” she asked when she caught up. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
The Snake didn’t reply for a time, but crouched by the fire spitting a joint of venison and setting it above the fire to cook. Callista waited. Sithmaree turned the spit a couple of times.
“What is it? I don’t know,” she said. “Shadow is very old. Older than the Benetheon. He had been about the plains for as long as any can remember. There were legends about such a creature when I was a child, and he is rarely seen.”
“But you have seen him before.”
“Seven times,” the Snake said. “Seven times in sixteen hundred years, and I have spent a lot of time out here.”
“Seven times?”
“And he has never spoken.”
It was a wonder indeed. And yet she had not been afraid, which was another wonder to see such a thing in the falling night and not fear it. Somehow she had known that there was no danger. Rodric had said that she had a talent for knowing, a Talent even, a magical sense, and she wondered if that were true.
“Shadow is powerful,” Callista said. “But not evil.”
“Powerful, certainly. It is said that the god mages feared him, but that is only talk. He is dangerous, too. The custom is to greet him, feed him if you can, and walk away. Some have tried other approaches and they have not fared so well.”
“And he has never spoken before?”
“I did not say that. I have never heard him, but there are stories. He has spoken before.”
“What does he say? He made no sense tonight.”
“Enough! I must think about this, and tomorrow we will have to return to Col Boran. I have to speak to Pascha.”
They ate in silence. Callista watched Sithmaree pick at her food and saw that she was scowling over it, clearly troubled by the appearance of Shadow and by the words it had spoken: I see her. What could it mean? Was it speaking of Callista or Sithmaree, or of someone entirely different – Pascha perhaps?
She rolled into her blanket early that night, but did not sleep for many hours. The world was more packed with miracles than she had ever imagined.
*
They rose early and rode quickly towards Col Boran. Their route now was not the comfortable meandering of their outward journey, but a straight line. Sithmaree was in a hurry to get back. They stopped briefly for midday, ate cold food and set off again. It was still two hours shy of sunset when they sighted Col Boran against the grey slopes of the mountains.
There was a strong breeze blowing from the west, sweeping down from the mountains towards them, so Callista rode with her head down, shielding her eyes.
They had ridden several miles further before she noticed that anything was amiss and only then because Sithmaree began to curse under her breath. She looked across at the Snake and saw that she was squinting into the wind, looking up at Col Boran. Callista raised her head.
It was wood smoke. She smelt it as soon as she saw it, billowing out from the burning grounds and whipped away by the wind. She saw lines of people there, the bright spark of flame.
“No!”
She dug her heels into Telsirian’s flanks and the bay responded at once, tired though she must have been after so long a day. They flew across the plain towards Col Boran, but not for long. Sithmaree drew alongside and seized the bay’s reins, pulling the horse up.
“It serves no purpose,” the Snake said. “You cannot gallop so far without killing the horse, and if the flames are lit she is already dead.”
For a moment Callista fought against Sithmaree’s restraining hand, but the Snake was a Benetheon god, and her strength could not be denied. Callista fell forwards over her horse’s neck and wept. Laya was dead. Her body was burning. She knew it.
“We will be there soon,” Sithmaree told her. “When we do, go to Rodric. He will need you. I will take care of the horses.”
Callista sat up and glared at the Snake. “Did you know?” she demanded. “Did you know?”
Sithmaree shook her head. “No. I did not know that she intended to take the test. I thought you had won your argument. I am sorry.”
23 The Paymaster
Narak had his prisoner, but where could he take him for questioning? He did not want to take him back to the castle because he didn’t want the king to know what he was doing, and he had nowhere else to go. He could hardly question the man in the street, and if he wanted to be certain of the truth he would have to reveal that he was a truth teller, and that would reveal that he was no ordinary Farheim.
The answer was obvious, of course.
He carried Drammen’s unconscious body out of the city via backstreets and avoided the gates by jumping from a low point of the wall. He tracked around the walls until his destination came in sight.
It was a large building, round and pale in the moonlight. There were no guards here – no need for them – and Narak walked in through the great doors, some fifty feet high and always open.
Kelcotel was coiled on the stone floor of the pavilion, his head raised slightly at Narak’s entry. Narak laid Drammen on the floor and approached the dragon.
“I am pleased to see you, Dragon Kin,” Kelcotel said. “But you have brought another. Is this an adjudication?”
“In a sense,” Narak said. “But it has been a long time since we spoke, and the one who must be judged is unconscious and cannot speak, so we may pass the time until he can. How do you find the city of Golt?”
One thing that Narak had learned in his years as Dragon Kin was that dragons liked to talk. They loved conversation a
lmost as much as they loved music.
“They are more formal here,” Kelcotel said. “I preferred it at Telas Alt where common people would come to see me. Here it is all business and speeches.”
“It is the king’s city. There is no doubt that they are more pompous.”
“I am grateful to Bane, however. He had encouraged them greatly in their pursuit of music. Since I was last here he has formed them into several choirs, and they come each morning to sing to me. I had not known that a human voice could be so sweet.”
“So there are compensations, then, to being in Golt?”
“There are, and not the least of them is food. They bring me the most interesting things. I think I owe that to Torgaris. He claims to have refused to adjudicate on an empty stomach.”
That sounded like the black dragon through and through. “Well, then it is not so bad,” Narak said.
“No, I suppose not, but the cases are less interesting here. I have not had an interesting adjudication in months.” He looked hopefully at the still form of Drammen. “He may awaken soon.”
“Then I have a plea for you, Kelcotel. Do not name me, or if you must, do so by my old name, which was Brash. This one thinks I am a Farheim from Col Boran…”
“Which you are.”
“…and knows nothing of the Wolf. I wish it to remain that way.”
“I will not lie, Narak,” the dragon said. “But what you ask seems merely a matter of concealment, so I will agree to it.”
They passed a few more minutes in idle chatter before Narak’s prisoner began to stir. Narak picked him up and put him in a chair. Drammen came to his senses and looked about him.
“You brought me here, to the dragon house?”
“Aye, we will have the truth out of you,” Narak said.
“I do not fear the truth, but what are you? No mortal man could do what you did.”
“I am a Farheim from Col Boran,” Narak said.
Drammen looked at the dragon. Kelcotel nodded his great head. “He speaks true.”
“I do not understand,” Drammen said. He frowned. “You serve the god mage?”
