by Roger Taylor
The Kyrosdyn stepped past him angrily and strode up to Atlon.
‘And you – have you seen anything strange in the last few minutes?’ His manner was no different from that he had adopted with Heirn.
Atlon’s jaw tightened, but he continued looking at the horseshoes as he spoke. ‘You are a member of an Order of learning, aren’t you? A thinker, a searcher after knowledge and the great truths of the world?’
There was a pause before the reply, ‘Yes,’ emerged. It sounded forced, prised out by the unexpected question rather than given willingly.
Atlon nodded, but still kept on examining the horseshoes. ‘Then the only unusual thing I’ve seen recently is a member of a so-called learned Order addressing a respected craftsman and a complete stranger with an inexcusable lack of civility. Good day to you.’ He tapped one of the horseshoes and leaned forward around the Kyrosdyn to look at Heirn. ‘Blacksmith, when you’ve finished with this gentleman, I think I may have found what I need.’
Heirn’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. Not because of Atlon’s abrupt dismissal of the Kyrosdyn, but because he was suddenly surrounded by a deep silence, and everything about him seemed to have been transformed into an unnatural but carefully arranged tableau: Atlon, smiling pleasantly, holding out the horseshoe to him, the Kyrosdyn, rigid and staring at where Atlon had been, and he himself, unable to move. He was sure that, had he been able to turn around, he would have found that the square behind him was no longer there. And the atmosphere in the forge was like that before a thunderstorm, with the motionless Kyrosdyn at its quivering heart.
Then, just as suddenly, it was gone, and the clamour of the square was washing over him like a surge of relief. Without speaking, the Kyrosdyn spun round and strode out of the forge, obliging Heirn to step quickly to one side to avoid him.
Dvolci emerged hurriedly from behind the chains and ran across to Atlon. ‘Make sure he’s gone,’ he shouted urgently to Heirn, then to Atlon, ‘Are you all right?’
Atlon was breathing heavily and rubbing his hands together. He nodded. ‘I think so, yes,’ he said shakily. ‘Did you feel it? I’m sorry about the trick with the horseshoes. I didn’t think for one minute that there’d be anyone who…’
‘It’s all right, it’s all right,’ Dvolci said, at once anxious and reassuring. ‘Neither did I really. And did I feel it? How could I not?’
Heirn interrupted them. ‘He’s gone. Stormed across the square straight as if I’d thrown him. People had to jump out of his way.’ He looked at Atlon. ‘What the devil happened?’
Atlon swayed and reached out to steady himself against the wall. ‘Help him, man,’ Dvolci cried angrily. ‘Get him out into the open air.’
Heirn draped a massive arm about Atlon’s shoulders and led him gently from the forge. He repeated his question as he sat him on the bench and crouched down in front of him, though this time his voice was full of concern. ‘What the devil happened? You look awful.’
Atlon closed his eyes and let out a long, slow breath. Colour gradually returned to his cheeks. He opened his eyes and scanned the square without moving his head. ‘He’s gone,’ he said to Dvolci. ‘And I can’t feel anyone else about.’ He drew a shaking hand across his forehead and looked at Heirn.
‘My little demonstration with the horseshoes was a mistake, I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘I put you in danger. I’m sorry. I never thought…’ His voice faded and he shook his head.
‘There was no reason why you should,’ Dvolci said. He gave a violent shudder.
‘Areyou all right?’ Atlon asked.
Dvolci was dismissive. ‘Of course I am,’ he said. ‘It was just the thought of what all this means.’
Heirn interrupted with strained patience. ‘Will you please tell me what…’
‘Did you know the man?’ Atlon asked him.
‘No. They all dress more or less the same, and they usually keep their hoods well forward. And they have their own smiths for such work as they need. I did the odd thing for them when I was young, but they’re bad clients – argue your price down to next to nothing, then argue about your workmanship, then you have to wring your money out of them, drop by drop.’ He grimaced angrily as old memories returned.
‘Well, answering your previous question, if that man’s typical of the Kyrosdyn, then it’s them I’m afraid of. And much more so now than before.’ Atlon put his hand to his head. ‘I can hardly believe it.’
Heirn was about to speak again but Dvolci answered his question. ‘He nearly attacked Atlon with the Power,’ he said. ‘Right here, out in the open, with no regard for human flesh or the consequences. I’ve never seen such grotesque, such frightening, indiscipline.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Heirn said.
‘Yes, you do,’ Dvolci said. ‘I saw the hairs on your neck standing on end even from where I was.’
Heirn gritted his teeth and looked up and down the square uncomfortably before replying. He had to force the words out. ‘I just shivered, that’s all. You know – a goose walked over my grave.’
‘In this heat?’ Dvolci was derisive. ‘You were scared stiff. And rightly so, too.’ There was such force in his last remark that it stopped Heirn’s protest. ‘Think yourself lucky you were on the edges of it. And we can all thank those who taught Atlon that sometimes it’s better to receive than to give. I shudder to think what would have happened if you’d retaliated.’
Atlon tried to stand up then changed his mind. ‘There was nothing to retaliate against, fortunately,’ he said. ‘Otherwise I probably would have done. But he didn’t actually do anything. That was just a little fist-clenching. He wasn’t that undisciplined.’
Dvolci snorted. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he blasted. ‘He reached for the Power as if it were no more than scratching his backside. He must use it all the time, it’s appalling.’ One foreleg came up nervously. ‘Did you respond at all… even a little? Do you think he realized you had the skill too?’ His teeth chattered anxiously. ‘And what if they’re all that powerful?’
‘No, I didn’t respond, but more by good luck than anything else,’ Atlon replied. ‘And no, I don’t think he suspected anything. He wouldn’t have left so easily, if he had. As for them all being like that, then all we can do is return home with the news.’ He slapped his knees with unconvincing heartiness. ‘But we’ll have to find out more about these people and what they’re doing. We can’t go back crying the alarm on the strength of one chance encounter, can we?’
‘We mightn’t survive another,’ Dvolci said darkly. ‘He was using a crystal, you know.’
‘I know,’ Atlon confirmed. ‘Though I can’t think how.’
Dvolci was angry again. ‘Don’t be so obtuse. You know how.’
Atlon shook his head. ‘It can’t be.’
‘Can’t be? Of course it can! You said it yourself before: the easy path – corruption and degradation – and crystals magnifying the way manyfold. Someone who uses the power so casually is totally under its sway – totally! He’s probably addicted beyond recovery. Tumbling headlong into hell. And it’s hard to imagine he’s alone.’
Atlon turned to Heirn. ‘What do the Kyrosdyn look like – physically – in themselves?’
The smith shrugged. ‘I’ve not really seen all that many. As I told you, they usually keep themselves hooded. But such as I have seen look pale… unhealthy.’
‘Gaunt?’
Heirn nodded. ‘Too much working indoors in ill-lit workshops, I suppose.’
‘But they’re… vigorous, for all that?’
Heirn nodded again. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Though I’d use the word tense rather than vigorous – stiff, jerky and sudden in their movements. And they’ve always been arrogant and unpleasant.’
For a moment, Atlon looked much older. He shook his head slowly as if reluctant to accept his own conclusion. ‘I’m afraid you’re right,’ he said to Dvolci.
Heirn sat down heavily beside Atlon. ‘I’d value an e
xplanation,’ he said. ‘One I can understand. I’ve no idea what you’re both talking about, and, pleasure though it was to see one of them dismissed like a stray dog, even I felt something strange happen.’
Atlon was matter-of-fact. ‘The Power I used to dislodge those horseshoes, he was prepared to use against me. Except that what he was threatening to use was many times stronger. It was akin to your smashing me with your hammer for the same offence.’
‘But he didn’t actually do anything?’ Heirn looked at him anxiously, searching for reassurance.
‘No,’ Atlon replied. He looked unhappily at Dvolci. ‘Had he done, I’d probably have defended myself instinctively. I don’t think I could have done otherwise. And who knows what the consequences of that would have been…’ He paused and studied the smith for a moment. ‘But he raised the hammer, Heirn. Would you have done so in those circumstances? I doubt you’d have raised anything other than your eyebrows. What he did was not the act of a truly sane person. If the others are the same, then they’re much more than just another group of people scrabbling for power and wealth within the city. They’re profoundly dangerous. They’re liable to bring this place down in ruins.
Heirn grimaced. ‘I can’t accept this,’ he said with a broad wave of his hand. ‘No disrespect, Atlon, but you’rereally beginning to talk nonsense. You’ve no idea what this place is like. How big it is. How many conflicting groups there are. The Kyrosdyn are an odd lot, for sure, and undeniably not people to trifle with. But the city’s full of determined and organized groups. Always has been. The Kyrosdyn are one of the oldest – they’re supposed to go back to the very beginnings. Why would they want to harm the place? And how could they? If they started to muster mercenaries, news would be all over the place in days – hours, even – and that would unite almost everyone against them, not least the mob. It’s happened before with other groups.’
The trio sat in silence for a long time, each absorbed in his own thoughts. Eventually, Atlon looked up at the sun, now quite low in the sky. ‘It’s getting late,’ he said, standing. He held out his hand to Heirn. ‘Thank you for your help and your kindness to two strangers,’ he said. ‘I apologize for the problems we’ve caused you. I won’t ask you to accept what I just told you, though it is true. The Power unleashed is something far beyond anything you’ve ever known and you’d think me truly mad if I tried to explain it to you, so I won’t. If I could ask you to direct us back to The Wyndering, preferably avoiding any of the Spills, we’ll be on our way and trouble you no further.’
Heirn too, stood up, and took the offered hand. He looked down at Atlon sternly. ‘The trick with the horseshoes, I thought could probably be just that – a trick. But Kyrosdyn don’t come to my forge, and that one was here like a dog after a rat. That’s a puzzle. Then your manner, your horse, the tack, the shoes, and not least the crystals, all mark you out as being someone unusual. Another puzzle. And the business with the Kyrosdyn. As I said, even I felt something. Yet another. You’ve given me so many questions that I’m unlikely to sleep tonight as it is.’ He leaned forward, looming over Atlon. ‘But this city’s my home, and the home of many good people, for all it leaves a lot to be desired, and if the Kyrosdyn are a danger, I’d like to know more about it.’
Atlon glanced up at the sun again. ‘So would I,’ he said. ‘But I’ve still got the problems I arrived with, and one day less in which to solve them. I need work to pay for food and lodging. Until I get that, there’s precious little I can do about the Kyrosdyn or anything.’
Heirn nodded thoughtfully. ‘It occurs to me that, you coming from such a horse-loving land, you might have some rudimentary skills in say, leatherwork, shoeing, and the like.’ He gestured back into the forge. ‘I’ve usually got a few horses back there that need tending for a day or so. I could perhaps offer you food and board in return for a little help. And while we worked, you could talk.’
Atlon looked at Dvolci uncertainly. Heirn, the inveterate bargainer, pressed his offer before the felci could contribute his thoughts.
‘I don’t think you want to work in a crystal workshop any more, do you?’ he said significantly. ‘Or get too close to any of the Kyrosdyn. At least for the moment.’
Atlon’s expression conceded the point.
‘Then you’re hired?’ Heirn asked encouragingly.
Relief lit Atlon’s face. ‘Yes,’ he said, smiling broadly. ‘You’re very kind.’
‘I’m very curious,’ Heirn admitted bluntly. He looked up and down the square knowingly. ‘And as we’re not likely to get any customers at this time of day, I’ll shut up and we’ll go along to my place. It’s not far. We can have something to eat, then perhaps… talk a while in peace, eh?’
After he had damped down the furnace, it took Heirn only a few minutes to swing a series of heavy shutters into place. They were robust and ingeniously designed to provide no leverage points for would-be thieves, but they were scarred with various impacts nevertheless.
‘Who’d want to steal what’s in here?’ Heirn said as he saw Atlon examining them. ‘But they try. Always they try. It’s a pity they don’t put the same effort into plying an honest trade.’
As they moved away from the forge, Dvolci clambered on to Atlon’s shoulder and whispered urgently in his ear. ‘He’s come back.’
Atlon nodded. ‘Yes, I know.’ He spoke to Heirn. ‘The Kyrosdyn’s back.’
Heirn looked around, startled. ‘I can’t see him.’
‘He’s here even so. How far is it to where these people live?’ he asked.
‘The Vaskyros? Quite a way – why?’
‘Could he have been there and come back since he left the forge?’
‘No. Not even if he’d been riding.’
Atlon’s face became grim. ‘We’ll have to deal with him.’ He looked around anxiously at the busy street. ‘Is there any secluded way we can use to get to your home?’
Chapter 14
Pinnatte felt good. Very good. In fact, he could not remember when he had last felt so good. It was as though his every heartbeat reinvigorated him as he strode through the gloomy streets towards the Jyolan Pits. Among the many fantasies that he toyed with on the way was one that had him seeking out the Kyrosdyn who had left the mark on his hand, and thanking him for setting him on the path to finding a new future for himself. It made him glow and he rubbed the back of his hand delightedly.
As he neared the Pits he made a conscious effort to calm down. Strutting conspicuously through the darkened side streets and alleys was not only out of character, it was foolish. Once or twice he actually fancied that he was being followed, though when he spun sharply on his heel he caught no sudden tell-tale shift in the shadows behind him. However, drawing attention to himself in the Pits would be particularly unwise. He was known to be one of Lassner’s Den-Mates, and if he were to act the way he felt, the eye of every Pitguard in the place would be drawn to him inexorably. The very least that would happen then would be Lassner hearing of his excited behaviour and presuming, naturally, that he had been less than honest about his takings for the day. The worst that could happen would see him trying to convince the Pitguards that he hadn’t suddenly had a ‘stroke of particularly good fortune’ which he might like to ‘share’ with his old friends. No, this night was for watching, not being watched. He must be his old, insignificant self.
Apart from his own safety, this was the correct way to behave in any event. He had no clear idea of what he intended to do, or to whom he might wish to ally himself, but he knew that it would have to be done discreetly – very discreetly. He had seen enough in his time to know that the people who were really successful – the likes of Barran, for example – were not flashy and raucous, but modest in their public appearances, and silent and secret in their business dealings.
Barran…
The name had slipped into his mind unexpectedly. He mulled it over. To be part of Barran’s ever-growing empire was an improbably high aspiration, but then, today was proving to be
an improbable day. And if he was looking to improve his lot, there was really not much point in following the star of just another Den-Master, someone precious little better than Lassner.
Why not Barran? he decided extravagantly. There was no harm in dreaming, though even in his elated state he knew there was little chance of finding a way into such a man’s service – not least because he had no idea where to start.
He came to the top of a rise and joined the street that led to the Jyolan Pits. To his surprise, it was much busier than usual, with almost everyone walking or riding in the same direction. And while there were some familiar faces to be seen, the majority were not the typical night people that were usually to be found here. He joined the stream.
Intrigued, he was taking a considerable interest in the crowd as he rounded the final corner before the Jyolan – part professional, part curiosity. As he looked ahead however, he stopped with a violent intake of breath, and all thoughts of the crowd were gone. In front of him, chilling and awful, was a malevolent, winking face. It filled the entire street. His knees started to buckle and his mouth dried as he saw that the surging crowd, now no more than a black flood, was disappearing into its gaping, blazing maw. For an instant, heart pounding, he was about to turn and flee back into the darkness, to the safety of his Den. But even as the intention formed, the image changed. He gave a nervous, self-deprecating laugh. It was only the Pits. Normally, all that could be seen of the place at night was such as the inadequate street-lighting revealed, and whatever light spilled out of the entrance door. Tonight however, the place was illuminated. The high-arched entrance was ablaze and lights on the roof played on the carved figures there, making them seem to move like restless guards around a flickering campfire. Lights too, hung all about the front of the building, and some had been placed behind the windows to the upper floors, to glint through the ornate metal frames like so many squinting eyes. Pinnatte let out a noisy breath and shook his head to dispel the residue of the image that had greeted him.
