by Brian Lumley
But Nathan’s mind was still on Nestor, and now he mused: “There are two tributaries plunging out of the heights. Which one did he jump into?”
“The one that descends to West Ford,” Karl answered. “But what will you do?”
“I’ll try to find his body,” Nathan told him. “And then I’ll know, for better or for worse.”
The other nodded. “Good luck. But Nathan, if you do find him … be prepared.”
Nathan didn’t find Nestor, but at least he found word of him.
He spoke to the guards at the ruined bridge. They’d seen the body of a man go drifting down river. There had been blood in the water and the body was facedown, motionless. They would have dragged him out but had failed to notice him until he was over the slippery weir and drifting deeper. He could be one of two things: a murdered victim of last night’s raid, or a vampire thrall caught by the sun in the foothills.
Anyway, that had been more than two and a half hours ago. By now he’d be tangled in roots somewhere down river, or sunk to the bottom in the mud and the weeds …
Nathan thanked them for the information, if not for their “assurances”, then forded the river and set out to follow its course downstream. Walking a path used by the town’s fishermen, and scanning the overgrown banks as he went, he followed the rushing waters to where the river joined with its twin in a broad green swath, but saw never a sign of Nestor. At which point most men might have given up, but not Nathan. He would follow the greater river all day, if need be. And when night came? … Well, sundown must find him wherever it found him.
And for that matter, what difference did it make?
Fifteen minutes after Nathan passed from sight of the West Ford bridge, Lardis’s runner made the crossing. He had been held up by a string of vampire hunters along the way.
By then the guards at the fording place had changed; one of them reported that he’d seen a man of Settlement talking to Karl Zestos in the town; the runner hurried on into Twin Fords without ever knowing that Nathan was less than three miles away but in a different direction.
Having found and spoken to Karl, the runner quickly returned to the sunken bridge. This time the guards could only shrug and offer their opinions that Nathan must be on his way back to Settlement, and that the two had passed each other by on different trails. It seemed the only logical explanation. Thus the runner gave up the chase, and began retracing his steps …
PART SIX:
Szgany Sintana—Dissension in the Aerie—The Thyre
I
Where the river swung east in a languid curve through deepening forest, broadening out until details on the far bank were hard to discern, there Nathan was about ready to admit defeat. By then the morning was more than half-way through and he was exhausted; he had been on the move nonstop since before first light, a period of some thirty-two hours. Also, since the path had come to an end just four or five miles south-east of Twin Fords, the going had been very difficult.
Now, in a sun-dappled clearing by the bank, he lay down in the long, sweet-smelling grass to sleep, and was just beginning to drowse when he was startled to hear a familiar clop, clop, clop, of cloven hooves, the creak and jolt of caravans, and the jingle of trappings and Szgany bells. Somewhere close to hand, hidden by the river’s rearing fringe, there must be an old Traveller trail; for these were surely the sounds of a party of Gypsies, who were even now passing through.
Nathan was wrong: they weren’t just passing through but making camp, which he saw when he left the river, pushed his way through a tangle of soft-leaved shrubbery, and emerged on the old trail. And as he appeared in the open, on the ancient rutted track, so they likewise saw him.
Brown, soulful female eyes met his deep blue ones across the trail’s width, and Nathan froze on the instant as the girl melted back into the greenery and out of sight. He’d suddenly remembered that these were strange times, and the last thing these people would be expecting was a wild man jumping out at them from the forest! On the other hand there were a good many of them, and Nathan was just one. Also, the sun was high, and so there was little chance of vampires abroad in the woods.
Certainly they were aware that the old threat lived anew in Starside; that was obvious from the moment of their first greeting. “Tear down the mountains,” said a soft Szgany voice from one side, startling Nathan.
Jerking his head in that direction, he saw a tall, lean, incredibly weathered man of indeterminate years, propped casually with his shoulder against a tree. And just from looking at him Nathan could tell that these people were real Travellers, Szgany in the fullest sense. No permanent dwelling place for such as these; township comforts had never lured them from their ways, not for more than a night or so; they had been on the move all their days, as much a part of the wilderness as the creatures of the woods.
Which meant that they might not know of the return of the Wamphyri after all. For among the true Travellers the old ways were still remembered as yesterday, and the old greetings—which could as well be maledictions as pleasantries, depending on the times and situation—were still very much alive. “Tear down the mountains,” this one had intoned, and Nathan knew the answer. He’d heard it from time to time when Travellers passed through Settlement trading their good skins, sharpening knives and axes, and reading palms. He had heard it before, but never used it. Because then he’d neither needed nor wanted to speak to anyone. Things were different now, however. And so:
“Aye, tear down the barrier range,” he answered. “Let the sun blaze full upon the last aerie, and melt it down to the ground!”
The man acknowledged Nathan’s understanding of the old curse and nodded, but at the same time he frowned and said: “And yet … you’re not a Traveller. Then perhaps your town has made us welcome in the past. For we don’t hold it against you town people that you have chosen to settle. We visit now and then, and sometimes find it good to talk with others. We merely think it foolish to stay trapped in one place, like a fungus on a tree. For when the tree falls, the fungus goes with it…”
He brought out his right hand from where it had been hidden by the bole of the tree, and in full view applied the safety catch to his loaded crossbow. Then, nodding again, he added: “Aye, foolish—especially now that the Wamphyri are back! But then, we’ve always said that they would be. And can you tell me a better reason for having spent all these years on the trail?”
Nathan shook his head, and answered, “Right now, that’s why I’m here, too. But I’m not running away from them, just searching for … for my brother, who was their victim. I … lost him last night, in Twin Fords. A man was seen to fall in the river. I thought that it might be him, and if I followed the river I might find him.”
“And did you?”
“No,” he shook his head. And stepping forward he offered his hand. They clasped forearms, and Nathan said, “I’m Nathan Kiklu, of the Szgany Lidesci.”
The other smiled, however humourlessly. “Szgany, you say? The Szgany Lidesci? From Settlement? Well, it’s true at least that old Lardis used to be a Traveller! I’m Nikha Sintana, and these are my people. We, too, stayed in Twin Fords last night, and I also lost a brother. At least, I lost one who would have become as a brother to me. So much for the safety of towns! As for running away…”
Nathan saw his error at once and went to correct it. “I meant no slight or insult!”
“None taken,” the other shook his head. “We are running away! What? Should we sit in a burning tree, drink poisoned water, tie boulders to our necks and carry them into the river? And should we live in a town, lighting great communal fires to welcome the Wamphyri to their feast?” Again he shook his head. “From now on I think a great many will be “running away”, just like me and mine. But last night—what an error! Of all the nights to choose to spend in the company of settled men!”
While Nikha Sintana talked, Nathan made him the subject of a thorough appraisal. He did so openly, with a display of natural, friendly curiosity; it wa
s the Szgany way when meeting strangers. And what he observed was impressive.
Nikha was — he could be—oh, anything between thirty-five and forty-five years old. The actual number of his years was a secret hidden in the agelessness of his penetrating, intelligent brown eyes, in skin weathered to a supple leather, in the oiled flexibility of sleek-muscled arms and the easy litheness of his posture. When Nikha leaned against a tree he didn’t just slump; the tree seemed not only to support him but became one with him, lending him its strength. Indeed, there appeared to be a great deal of Nature’s strength in every part of him.
His hooked nose was almost as sharp in profile as a kite’s beak, but without its cruelty. His brow - for all that it was broad to accommodate a good brain and wide inscrutable eyes—had the flat slope of a wolf’s. His lips were thin, grooved as old bark, and maybe not much given to smiling; but at the same time Nathan could not fail to notice the laughter lines, too, at the corners of his eyes and mouth. Overall, with his dark-grey, shoulder-length hair, Nikha Sintana reminded him of nothing so much as a lean and rangy hunting owl.
The Traveller had fallen silent now, waiting for Nathan’s response. And Nathan was not remiss. “I’m sorry you lost someone. I feel for you and know your pain well. For just like me, you also lost a brother.”
Nikha nodded. “But my sister’s pain is the greater. She was to have married this one. Which is how he would have become my brother.”
“Ah!” said Nathan, quietly.
He looked around. The Gypsies had led their animals into the forest’s shade; a few tents of skins were being erected; a cooking fire was already smoking under a tripod of green branches, fuelling itself on dry bark tinder. Men were moving like shadows under the trees; a crossbow thrummed and a pigeon fell in the sun-dappled glade; a youth with a fishing line made for the river bank, collecting moth larvae bait as he went. There was something very natural, very appealing, about all of this almost casual activity. Nathan felt … comfortable here, in the company of these people. Except comfort was a feeling he couldn’t afford.
He straightened his shoulders and said, “I should get back to my search.”
Nikha took his arm. “We’ve stayed in Settlement from time to time. Lardis Lidesci was always a friend, in the old days and in the new. I’m not a man to incur debts, but where they exist I always try to square them. You are tired, Nathan Kiklu. You look fit to drop. As well sleep here among friends as alone along the river, and when you’ve rested eat with us. That way, in some future time, my debt will have transferred to you. It’s from small debts such as these that friendships are forged.”
Nathan felt his weariness dragging on his bones and remembered now that he’d been about to sleep. Also, his back was a mass of blue bruises, whose aching was such that it might soon immobilize him entirely unless he rested first. “I’m tired, it’s true,” he said. “But I don’t wish to inconvenience you.”
“No such thing,” the other replied. “This is where we make camp, eat and sleep. You’ve come across us at the right time. Our lives may be short but Sunside’s days are long. At least while the sun is in the sky we may sleep safely. As for your search: the river is wide and its banks overgrown, with miles of forest on both sides. I understand your need, but I can’t say I’m envious of the task you’ve set yourself. A rest can’t hurt … and then a little food, to fuel you on your way?”
In this way Nathan found his mind made up for him. “I’m in your debt,” he said.
Leading him into the camp past a small caravan, Nikha said: “My wagon. I shared it with my young sister, and cared for her until she was a woman. Then, when Eleni found herself a man in Twin Fords, or when he found her, we made them a tent of skins. This time passing through Twin Fords she would have been married; this very day, in fact! But last night, in the middle of a small celebration … well, you know what happened. All of that became as nothing. Now for a while she’ll put up her tent and sit in it, and mourn this man she never got to know.” His voice hardened. “But she’ll forget about him soon enough, and the tent won’t go to waste. Maybe it’s just as well.”
Nathan glanced at him, perhaps a little sharply. Nikha saw his frown and raised a defensive eyebrow. “If she’d known him well, then she would mourn him that much harder. And what if there had been children?”
“That seems a hard point of view,” Nathan was frank.
“Because I can remember hard times,” Nikha answered. “And harder still to come, I fear.” He paused a while to fondle the ear of a beast of burden, a shad, one of a pair hitched to the thill of his vehicle. Shaggy as a hugely overgrown goat and of a like intelligence—but less boisterous, wider in the shoulder and sturdier in the legs—the creature and its companion waited uncomplainingly for someone to unhitch them and put them to graze. Turning its head, it offered up a grateful bleat and allowed Nikha to scratch behind its ear.
And: “Aye,” he finally continued, as if he talked to himself or to the shad, “even the smallest comforts will be hard come by from now on, I fancy. For men and beasts alike …”
Meanwhile, Nathan had looked the camp over and noted its size and composition. There were two caravans and a flat, covered cart, half a dozen shads and two calves, and a few goats tethered at the back of the vehicles. Dangling outside the caravans, festooning their sides, were all the tools and utensils necessary to Traveller life, each item muffled now to prevent unwanted jangling and clattering. And under the trees at the rim of the clearing, three good-sized tents stood cool in the shade. Finally, the camp had its own wolves, a dog and a bitch. Capable hunters, they would see to themselves and provide early warning of intruders—which explained how Nikha Sintana had been so quick off the mark and waiting on Nathan’s arrival.
According to Lardis Lidesci’s campfire stories, there had been hundreds of groups such as this one upon a time. Scarcely larger than a few family units—able to melt away like ghosts into the forests, or hide in small caves during Wamphyri raids—they had made harder targets than the larger, more prominent Traveller tribes.Several of Nikha Sintana’s earlier statements had more than suggested his solitary nature, which the size of his party might appear to confirm; but to Nathan it seemed more likely that he simply adhered to this old tenet, that small is synonymous with secure.
Of people, the group was made up of thirteen in all: four men, including Nikha, three women, and five children whose ages ranged from a small infant to the youth in his early teens who had gone fishing. The thirteenth … was Eleni Sintana, that sister of whom Nikha had spoken.
Nathan had caught only the briefest glimpse of Eleni in the moment he broke through the undergrowth on to the track, but in that same moment he had seen something in her eyes which had seemed to strike a resonant chord within himself … perhaps it had been her eyes, so much like Misha’s. In any case, he’d been aware of her presence ever since but was careful not to look at her directly. Travellers are often fiercely protective where their women are concerned, and they don’t care for forwardness in strangers. He was aware of her now to one side of the camp’s central area, where she used an axe to break up dead, fallen branches into firewood.
“This is Eleni,” Nikha confirmed, leading him across the clearing, “my sister. She cuts firewood to occupy her mind.”
She looked up as they approached—looked at Nathan and smiled, however wanly—and he saw now that it was her eyes. They took him by surprise, for he’d thought that only Misha’s eyes could be so warm, black and caring. Obviously he’d been wrong; or perhaps it was just that Misha had been so much on his mind lately, that…
“This is Nathan Kiklu,” Nikha said, breaking into his thoughts, and possibly into hers, too. “A man of Settlement, from Lardis Lidesci’s people. He could use a wash, a place to sleep, a blanket to keep him warm. Until our meal is prepared. Will you see to it, little sister?”
She nodded and straightened up. And now that they’d been introduced, Nathan allowed himself to look at her.
May
be twenty or twenty-one years old, she was typically Szgany. All lithe and sinuous, with movements as smooth as oil, her hair was shiny black, her skin tanned to a glow, her mouth generous and sensuous at one and the same time. And there was something wild as the woods about her—even more so than her brother—so that if Nathan didn’t know better he might think there was room for only one mood in her: she should be vivacious and live life to the full, joyously, with a husky laugh that teased, taunted but never quite seduced. Because when finally Eleni did love, then her man would get all that she could give.
Mainly naive, Nathan was wont to make judgements such as this at first sight. And sometimes he was right. Eleni should be that way; perhaps she would have been and could be again, one day. But for now … she was small and sad and lonely.
As Nikha walked away, back towards his caravan and animals, Nathan began: “Your brother has told me—” and paused. “— I mean, I just want you to know that we’re two of a kind. For just as you have lost your man, so I have lost my girl.”
She nodded seriously, and answered: “I know how much you have lost, for it’s in your eyes. I knew from the first moment I saw you. Ah, but I saw much more than that in those strange blue eyes of yours, Nathan! They are filled with all sorts of things, and you’re not much given to hiding them.”
He was surprised, not quite sure of her meaning. Perhaps he looked at her too openly. He turned his eyes aside at once. “Have I …been forward? If I’ve seemed so, then—”
“No, no, not that,” she cut him short. “And if you were, what of it? Gypsies are forward. If a person is liked no one complains, and if he is not liked we say that he is forward. No, but you have been the sad one for a long, long time, and now is the worst time of all.”
