by Andre Norton
"No ..."
Rentam's tongue flicked out from between his jaws and in again. Once it was said that those of his blood could test the very air to sift truth from falsehood. If that gift had been lost they had other small ways of dealing with any double talk from strangers.
Oddly enough Rentam had to believe that Modic was now speaking the truth. Yet he was not ready to allow the Seeker to believe he had satisfied his unwilling companion by so much as that. And perhaps there was a frayed feeling of right within the man which brought out of him an explanation Rentam was sure he had never meant to give.
Modic once more caressed his chin under the crust of sweat and plaster of sand, studying the guide narrowly.
"The Old Ones, those who lived here," he made a gesture indicating the ruins, "had many secrets. Is not that the reason for both Seeker and Guide to come hither?"
Rentam shook his head.
"We wrest no secrets from the dead...."
"The more fools you." Modic got to his feet, stretching arms and legs as if the time he spent at the spy hole had rendered him stiff.
"If you seek not for treasures, why do you venture into this sin-damned land year after year? What brings you here?"
Rentam once more flicked his tongue over his lower lip taking the grit of sand into his mouth. With it there seemed to come that sickening flavor with which the mask was imbued. He plucked that off and shook head and shoulder much as the Seeker had stretched.
Then he deliberately wet a forefinger against his lips, used it to gather up some grains of sand from a nearby wall stone and licked that up. A moment later he spewed it forth.
"Now what do you do?" Modic wanted to know.
"There is salt in this earth...." In turn Rentam got to his feet and looked about the jumble of wall and piles of fallen stone.
"Salt!" Modic hooted with what he must consider laughter, still Rentam slowly surveyed each standing wall, seeking something which was not there.
"I asked you, Guide," the Seeker returned to the question, "what seek you within this desert if you come not to plunder the towns? Do the demons walk only in those so you feel safe in the open ... ?"
Rentam's two strides took him even with and then past Modic.
Now he needs must kneel to look upon what had so engrossed the Seeker.
"We seek," his voice was absent in tone, for what he told was not secret... neither was it ever believed, "water."
"Water!" Modic's voice arose to a whoop.
"Here in the dead sands you seek water? Be like you follow some old tale where some ancient evil one struck stone and it enclosed your precious water."
Rentam did not turn his head, he found that he must crouch even lower to look through Modic's vantage point.
"You have the truth of it, Seeker," he answered still absently. Then even forgot the man by his side when he looked out to where the horse and men had waited. Sun was gone, shadows were heavy. In his nostrils was the raw, sweet smell of blood, and he saw enough to near bring the scanty contents of his stomach up into his mouth. Bones... goblets of torn flesh. But the bones were the worst, for from the way they lay twisted and piled against each other he could believe that something might have stripped their bodies of flesh while yet they lived. There was a head which had rolled closer to his viewpoint and was exposing bone to chin and cheek and a mass tattered of flesh above. Yet by Hyqur, the Keeper of the Gates of Darkness, the flesh had not been devoured or even carried far. The still dripping chunks and strips lay within what once must have been a fountain, pulled into a pile as if laid out for a feast.
Modic's hand fell heavily on his shoulder.
"Quiet as the sand when there is no puff of air to give it life." He was crouched beside Rentam again, his mouth so close to the Betweener's leathery cheek that the foulness of his breath for an instant made Rentam gag as he had from the mask.
"There are those who come to feast at such a table...."
"Yet," Rentam dropped his own voice and half hissed, half whispered, "you have not been here before. Then how do you know what chances here? Let me guess, Seeker. You had full knowledge of that which killed and took precautions that you should not be among the slain by coming last. Why chose you ..."
His question was interrupted by a soft sound like a heavy sigh such as a beast of burden might give when loosed of that burden, the need for going on. The darkness was not quite as complete as it would have been outside the ruins. Rentam was not sure just where the pale light came from, unless it was from the uncovered bones of the city itself. But he was able to see the outline of a horse's head against whitish block a little beyond them.
Modic chuckled. He might not have been viewing a fatal battlefield, but rather was anticipating some coming gift.
"So ... SOOOO ... sssoooo ... Dus," again that whispering voice but he did not address Rentam this time. The mount's ugly head swung in his direction and the horse took one step and then another as one answering a detested jerk upon dangling reins, edging by as far as it could from the horror about the pool.
"Never judge a mount by looks." Modic dug an elbow into Rentam's ribs.
"Dus has been a-questing before. But he has been thrice blessed by the Voice of Ugan and also endowed at birth with more brains than many a man! Ugly and spare he may look, but he is as fresh at the trail's ends as when he first stepped out. Ah!"
Modic's first touch on the guide's arm became a grasp which twisted flesh and brought pain.
"Look you, Betweener! Here comes those to the banquet their protector has laid out for them!"
The horse had managed to reach their crowded hide just as his master spoke. The animal made no sound but his sweat was that of fear and it was rank in their small space. Giving voice to a harsh whinny Dus turned and pulled away. Modic did not appear to notice his going. Rentam saw a dark shape detach itself from a fraction of wall to scuttle towards the basin of blood and flesh. It was only the first. However Rentam was not to be turned by such a sight from his need for the truth.
"You know this place." He made a statement out of that, not a question.
"Yet you swear you have never been here before."
"Nor have I, Betweener. But I have been to Lyrh and Kenzy...." He spoke with pride in his voice.
"Though never within these walls. Yet I saw a Seeker disappear into Lyrh with all his company. And he did not return, nor did any one or thing, save my fool Dus here, when the sun arose the next morning. There were sounds in a plenty during the night and they were not pleasant ones.
"If you were so near, how does it that you were not caught in the same trap?"
Again Modic chuckled. " Twas my own thinking which saved me there. I was well behind the Seeker, not a member of his crew, and when the killing light came I was beyond its radius. Also ..."
His hand strayed inside his robe again and Rentam would swear that what he sought was that map.... "Also, I sat at the feet of many story tellers... in all the Down Lands. Some had one small bit to spew forth, some had nothing ... but I listened with patience for more than a year. I even had such brought to tell to me alone.
It was one of those, an ancient Speaker of your own kind, Betweener, who gave me the first clue." He settled back into the shadows and sat more at ease with his back against a broken wall. Yet he still spoke in so low a tone that Rentam had trouble making sure of all the words.
"What do you know of the tale of Lonscraft, Betweener? Or is that legend so' old it has dried up in all men's minds, to be blown away in an autumn tempest?"
Truth? Rentam's tongue tasted the air. There were many foul and dangerous odors about but he could still pick up this Seeker.
Modic told the truth, or what he believed to be the truth, or... at least a portion of it, destined to hook Rentam to him.
"Lonscraft." He remembered back to days not so long ago when he had toiled over learning... names, places, events which had been the portion of the Betweeners lore for such a long time.
"Lonscraft," he repea
ted, "is a tale...."
"What are the past doings of us all but legends when time speeds further and further away from the event," Modic wanted to know.
"Yes, there is the tale of Lonscraft... but it is worn ragged by passing through so many tellers, each changing a little to make it suit his or her own ideas of what was exciting, or fitting, or proper.
Your people tell dark stories of the cities within this dead land, yet they learn its trails and mark its guide posts as if such acts are a matter of unchangeable law. You do believe yet, deep inside of you, there is a faint stirring when one calls the name of a vanished city.
You have built up a number of taboos and most of them have truth in them. Your training tells you that death was here ... and it was. Still you are not aware of what kind of death ... only of its shadow. But me, Modic," he thumped himself on the chest, "I allow no story to stand alone and be only half believed. Always have I sought for more. I heard of the woman Kasiu, she who was first wife to Amers. Her I hunted out and she was afraid, for there were many in her village who knew how much she hated her husband and who were skeptical of her story of Demons entering him when he came here. I made a bargain with her, that she could travel with my company down to the River towns and that she was grateful for, also she could not guess that more lay in her husband's journey bag upon his return than crumbs of food. But I learned where she had spilled the bag, so I found what I sought for what seems now half my life.
"There was the map and I hardly think truly that it was of his own making ... it may be generations old. Also there were some guide scratches... look for yourself, Betweener."
Modic was holding out an oblong of slate painstakingly ground into a narrow slip. Rentam accepted it gingerly, then might have gasped had his species been that of the Seeker. It was hot in his hand, not as something which had gathered body warmth from resting against flesh, but with a heat which radiated from it. He could have been holding an actual part of the sun's beam. To the sight in this part-dark it was bare, but when his fingers quested over it, ridges and curves lay plain against his skin. Deep in him was that first flutter of fear known when a thing which is thought to be without truth suddenly throws aside the cloak of falsehood. His lips shaped words which his voice whispered:
"In the ninth month when the Lords of the Three Lands strove together, there came out of the depths of the dead and riven land one who was veiled and lacking in speech. Yet no one raised hand to pull aside the veil and cloak, or spoke. Rather did they draw back away from this one who was not like unto others of the world.
"Then rose up Utyr of Lonscraft who was ever of hasty tongue and impatient hand. He spoke, saying that truth was to be known and if there was a message then let this one speak it forthwith.
"So that one from the dead land turned to Utyr and made certain gestures which no one understood, but which had an ill look to them. Utyr, though he shifted from one foot to the other as a person ill at ease, did not speak again. Nor did he give any orders to his men as
that shrouded one turned and walked from him. Those before the walker hunched to either side making a free path for the cloaked one. Thus the stranger came to the first opening of the broad marsh which was then to the gates of Lonscraft, that city being partly built on landing of stone long and deep set in unsteady earth. Going out upon one of the piers of the swift flying marsh boats, the stranger opened wide his cloak, which then hung in the air itself like wings. Although all the company stayed ashore and none could see what the cloak had hidden.
"But a hand flashed forth bearing such a weapon as no man had seen ... white, and gold, blue, red and green, color followed color across its surface. Then the stranger whistled, a clear, sharp sound like the cry of some sea bird.
"Down one of the aisles of open water which served for the boats came that which those of the land had never seen. It was both a fish and a crawler upon the land for it showed stubbly legs.
When it came to a belt of weed it climbed over that growth, not giving way to it.
"As for the staff, this flashed with color, mainly green, but also swirling red, blue, and gold.
"The head of the water one was held high above the surface, and from its mouth issued words which all man could hear but none could answer, for there was no understanding them. Then the voice grew louder, boomed and belled, until it filled the ears of all those in Lonscraft and there was no escaping it. Also it carried in it, even if one could not understand the words, a feeling of coming shadow and ill fortune. So that those waiting by Utyr drew sword or battle knife, even though no challenge had been offered.
"Utyr himself strode forward near enough to the stranger that he might grasp that one's shoulder if he wished; he even put forth his hand as if to do that very thing. Yet he did not complete that gesture for the thing in the water ceased upon an instant its calling and there was a strange and abiding silence which held for five breaths, perhaps more. Then he who stood at the pier's end turned slowly around so that those gathered there could see, that though he walked upright and cloaked as might a man of the city, he was not of their form nor wore any covering known to them...."
"Yes," Modic broke in, "do your tellers of ancient tales say then what manner of creature this stranger was?"
Rentam's tongue flicked out, he raised the water carrier to his wide mouth and took the smallest of sips, though that was enough to strengthen his voice.
"You have heard the same tale, Seeker.. . what manner of creature was this stranger?" prodded Modic.
Then he laughed. There was a shadow of contempt in his voice:
"Go hunt out a quiet pool and look into it, Guide. There shall you see well what you wear... for the stranger was of your kin by blood."
What Rentam might have replied to that was lost, for from the broken walls before them arose a keening cry, and straightway that was stifled in turn by cries and shouts of despair, horror and terror on the verge of madness. If some had escaped the massacre in the open they were now being dragged to their deaths.
So awesome was that chorus that Rentam put his hands over his ears but found he could not shut out the sound which seemed to enter and pulsate in his body so he rocked a little forward and back as if he was shaken by something a great deal stronger than any sound, no matter how hideous.
A musky-sweet corruption of blood scent arose about him also.
Thus he could believe that those scavengers of this ill-omened place gathered again for a feasting. There was movement behind him and he whirled to see something which slid through the black of shadow to advance past the end of a broken wall. From that spread the odor of
horse sweat, Dus once more. The fear born in animal broke through the ugly spell which kept both travelers quiet. Modic did not move, but Rentam stepped forward and caught again that trail of broken rein. By this he drew the bony horse to them.
Behind he heard once again Modic's chuckle as eerie as a madman's.
"Did I not say," Modic asked, "that Dus was one of the best of all that train? The rest stood pinned by fear until they met death, but this one fled, which is often the greater part of any valor, and note its coming does us also a service. For it would not venture to us now again if the way was not clear. Now yield your guide ship to me, Betweener, and we shall come out of this... but tell me first what sorcery your distant kin worked here which defeated Utyr, and with him many other lords of a land not then dead."
"That the tellers of tales never knew," Rentam returned sharply.
The moans, screams, and cries of fear and torment had died away as if one by one those who voiced them were being silenced forever.
"And the water thing which came to his call? What was that, Betweener? Why during one day and night did all those who followed Utyr die? What death twisted and wrung their bodies, tore and shredded the very flesh which made them what they were?"
Modic advanced a step or two, now facing Rentam. There was a full moon and, as if he still clung to some ancient fear for all his brave talk, he
was fingering the broken rein and standing close enough to the horse that he might be in the saddle and off before Rentam could move.
The Betweener shrugged.
"I know nothing of sorcelment or the plays of warlocks and Mages."
"Ha! And still those of the stranger's kin went out of the city untouched. None of them bore so much as a water bottle with them, bareheaded they went, un pursued and free. That is the ending of the tale they chant in the Down Lands. Eh, Guide, how fared them? Death did not claim them."
"I know no such ending of the legend," countered Rentam.
"When it is spoken among us death is universal."
Modic grinned evilly.
"Do men, or Betweeners, ever really make that clear? Perhaps it is better to forget than to admit one has made some pact with that which should never have been thought of? Do we greet Betweeners with open arms and fair smiles to this day ... even when they bring us those things we have need of? Why come you in parties of fighters if you are merchants with nothing to fear?"
