As they went they swapped their stories and Astrid, the younger only in calendar years, began to teach Christopher about The Land—or at least as much as she knew. Astrid was soon glad that they were on no fixed timetable. Christopher insisted that they stop and pray and that he had to hold his daily services. She supposed he was still tied to the monastery times. A person could get nothing done if they had this continual round of prayers every day. Astrid realised she was getting exposed to more religion than she was used to. She even got to hear about several saints and why they had that status. She decided that old Father Simon, their chief village priest, was not quite as rigorous in his habits as her new companion. She didn’t dare criticise her old priest to this new one, but she grinned to herself. Maybe Father Simon had just learnt to fit in with the, not very devout, lifestyle of the parish he was condemned to in the frozen north and, as a practical man gave them only as much religion as they would accept rather than alienate them from him. As well, she had to admit, she might be paying more attention to her companion than she normally did even when she went to church, which was normally not quite every week.
As they travelled Astrid used the stops to repair the rips in their clothes. Once she even had to leave the priest sitting forlorn and embarrassed in his loincloth as she repaired his cassock. As if that were not bad enough for him, he was soon even more embarrassed when she stripped anything off to repair it or to wash. Astrid soon decided that caring for Father Christopher was almost as bad as looking after her brothers. Still, at least he didn’t get drunk every day and a rain of near constant prayer was far better than near constant swearing.
~~~
Two more days found them on a track. Astrid was sure that it was the road south from Wolfneck. She could feel the chill of the approaching winter was on their heels as they headed south and around them the leaves were falling from those parts of the forest that shed them, blanketing the ground in a brown and orange carpet. It contrasted with the stands of evergreens, either conifers, she noted that they were different to those of the north, or else gums.
After a couple more days a river appeared to their right. She didn’t know its name and, of course, neither did the priest. They may even have crossed it earlier when there had been a section of braided streams where they crossed one middling watercourse after another as well. From the direction that it flowed the one thing that Astrid was sure of is that it was not the Methul that ended at her home. Astrid realised two things. Firstly she was well outside the boreal forests she knew so well and secondly that Christopher had only a vague idea of anything. He knew the names of the main Orthodox villages in the north and had an idea of their direction from Greensin and that was about all.
Eventually, however, they started to come upon isolated assarts, small clearings for crops or pasture, each with a house for a family. Unlike her home village, all of them were palisaded. It looked to Astrid as if these people feared their forests. In most cases the fences were more substantial than the houses they protected and in two cases it was obvious they had been built before the still incomplete house as the people there still had a tarpaulin rigged as a tent. Outside each palisade there were rows of roses planted. One place was obviously based on an earlier settlement as two legs of the fence was on top of a large earthen wall. It seemed that the people were glad to see a priest and their journey slowed as they were fed well, performing services as they went.
Father Christopher even baptised a newborn child a couple of weeks old. In their first stop, at an incomplete house, he had to perform a marriage—the bride already well pregnant. He had to read these services from his book. He had never done them before. The book was held up for him to read by Astrid—she felt herself to be an unlikely altar boy. Astrid rarely smiled now and she tried to hide her eating. It was hard for her to get used to the reaction these people had to her teeth. Anyone would think that she was a real Kharl. It was countless generations since her people had purebred Kharl living among them, but for these people it may as well have been yesterday. She realised that, if it were not for the company that she was in she might not have been very welcome here among these country folk. The people warmed to her after a while—but she would not have gotten that chance on her own. She was too strange for them.
~~~
Four days of slow travel saw them standing on a riverbank staring over a ford at the stone walls of Evilhalt. It was the largest town that Astrid had seen and she marvelled at the extent of the fields around it. They would arrive wet.
“Oh well,” said Astrid. “It has to be done. At least this water is warm. Come on Father.”
They emerged from the water soaked near to the waist. Christopher’s cassock, despite his attempts to gird it up, was sodden and insisted on trying to trip him up. She was sure that he was more interested in making sure that his backpack stayed drier than that he did. On reaching the gatehouse Father Christopher was directed to the church by the well-armed and alert guards. Astrid asked for a furrier and was given a small boy to lead her there. They went through streets filled with houses that were very different to what she was used to. Most had stone first floors and timber and plastered uppers. None had the homely look of being a part of the earth that many houses in her home had, none had the upturned eaves and stacked logs and, more importantly the streets were paved and not just dirt or mud.
Once she was at the furrier’s shop, Astrid wished that she were more skilled at selling. Her father had taught her some bargaining skill—often unconsciously as she sat silent near him—but the furrier was far better at it than she was. At least she knew that her pelts, although now drying out and not in the best condition, were rare and the furrier would want them. At least she had salted them, although she would now need more salt when she headed out again. Eventually they arrived at a price, one which was a lot higher than Astrid expected, and so was probably far lower than the furrier would have paid. At least she now had a fair amount of cash and could better pay for her stay here—if she was going to do that for long. She didn’t want to settle down so soon and still so close to Wolfneck.
Having made her sale, Astrid next went in search of Father Christopher. The church was not hard to find. It was squarish and built of stone, unlike the tall and flowing timber church at home with its carved roof and wooden shingles. It looked both more solid and yet less graceful. The slate roof did not match the whimsical wooden carvings on the eaves and roof that she was used to. Propping her spear and bow in the entrance she entered. Inside Father Christopher was huddled with two other priests at the altar. They were so excited that they didn’t even see or hear her approach. Coming closer she could see that they were clustered around something. It must be the Bible that Father Christopher had said that he had been carrying, carefully wrapped up in oilskins. It was the most beautiful thing that she had ever seen. Its pages fairly glowed with colour. Eventually the three noticed her presence behind them.
“This’ll be t’ young lady who saved you from wolves,” said the eldest priest in Greek with a heavy accent of his own. “Our t’anks be to you an’ may blessings come to you from God. By your deeds in savin’ Father Christopher an’ enablin’ this to be delivered you be aided His work in no small way. Would you be likin’ to see what he ’n’ you hast brought us?”
Astrid nodded and was admitted to the admiring circle. The priests were introduced as Father Anastasias, who was the elder, and Father Giorgio. Although she had the ability to speak and understand some Latin and Greek from going to church, enough for a simple talk, she could not read any of either, but you didn’t need to be able to read it to admire the beauty of the book.
When everyone had looked their fill Astrid spoke up in Darkspeech, holding out a purse. “Father, this is half the money from the sale of the pelts. It is yours.”
“I could not take that,” said Christopher. “You killed more than half or them and did all the work of skinning and carrying. It would not be right.”
“Father,” said Ast
rid, switching to her halting Greek and looking at Father Anastasias for support, “I think that wandering priests are supposed to either support themselves or that they have to live on charity. You must take it. You are going to be out in the world for some time. You may not be in a Christian area all of the time and may be unable to claim charity. If you do not think that you have earned it, then let it be my gift for the support of the Church.”
Father Christopher looked dubious, but Father Anastasias, who had been nodding while Astrid said her bit, now spoke. “T’ Church be always in need of support an’ Father Christopher he be glad to accept your generosity.”
She saw him give a meaningful look at Christopher as he said this. Turning to her he said, “However t’ Father he be out of the world all of his life an’ do not realise how hard it will be for him to make his way. You be a good daughter of the Church.”
He spoke firmly and with assurance but Astrid thought dubiously on whether anyone had previously ever called her a good daughter—of any sort.
“Will you be a continuin’ with t’ Father in his travels? He be needin’ someone to show him t’ world.”
To her ears the studied innocence with which he asked that question showed that he, at least, was well aware of the world.
“I have no plans, beyond staying away from Wolfneck, and would prefer to travel with someone. So, if the Father wants me to do so, I can be his travel companion as long as he wants one,” said Astrid resignedly and tactfully.
“Then,” continued Anastasias, “seeing t’at you be t’ more practical an’ experienced with t’ world, why don’t you be holdin’ t’ money for your companion?”
Father Christopher interrupted then, he sounded a trifle annoyed. “Am I not to be consulted? Don’t my wishes count? I admit that I cannot bargain and have little experience to draw on outside the monastery, but how hard can it be?”
Astrid saw that her broad smile was matched by the two other priests as an answer. Hurriedly, and she thought diplomatically, Astrid replied, “Father, if you do not want me to travel with you, then I will not. However, I have no plans in my head beyond simply fleeing a poor arranged marriage. I would feel far safer if I were travelling with a priest so that no man would dare misunderstand me. I am happy to go where you will. I can hunt and cook and look after you. You must admit that you need that—at least I have been helpful so far. Two are far better for travelling than one. Indeed, if you have no true plans, then we might best be finding others to travel with. The giant lizard we saw is not the worst threat that is in the wilds.”
“T’at be true,” said Father Anastasias, “an’ t’is is be a good place to be findin’ others. We be at crossroads o’ travel between t’ different parts of T’ Land.”
“Perhaps you are right,” Christopher finally said with a tone of resignation. “I also admit that, having delivered this copy of the Holy Writ, I have no plans for the future. I suppose that I must trust to God to set my feet upon the right path.”
Astrid was sure he was going to say something else, but Father Anastasias was quick. “Good,” he said, and with a note of firmness. “T’en it be a settled. Father Christopher will stay at my house an’ we will get him proper dressed ’n’ equipped. Young lady, Father Giorgio be a takin’ you to t’ inn an’ arrange room t’ere for you. You be a lookin’ for some people to travel with. Perhaps t’ey be merchants or perhaps be other wanderers such as yourselves. As we recover from t’ plagues an’ Darkreach opens t’en t’ere be many more a wanderin’ nowadays. Do not worry whether t’ey be Christian, just see if you t’ink that t’ey be good people, but do you be makin’ no offers to t’em until I be met of t’em.”
“Yes Father,” said Astrid, who was instantly surprised in herself to note that she had said it meekly and meant it. She would not have taken such an instruction from her own father near as well as she had taken it from this stranger priest.
“T’en off you be goin’. You can tell me who you find after even service each night.”
Evening service? Each night? She had never seen so much religion in all of her life. She sometimes went to the Krondag service—unless she was at sea or in the forest or busy with cooking, but daily? If we are travelling in dangerous places, then it might be a good idea to have my soul in good condition, she thought. What she said was, “Of course Father.”
Astrid was led to a building with two stories of stone and a third one of timber that overhung the street. It had a sign proclaiming it to be ‘The Slain Enemy’. She noted that the sign had recently been repainted and it was impossible even to tell the race of the body depicted. She was willing to bet that it used to be a Kharl and she wondered how well her teeth would be accepted. At least the innkeeper would know that the Church brought her here.
Father Giorgio had a short and rapid conversation with the innkeeper in a low voice that she gave up on following before she was handed over to a servant girl who led her upstairs to the third floor. No one asked for any money, so she must even be here as a guest of the Church. She was shown a small room—so small that there was only room in it for a bed. There were pegs and shelves on the wall and she had to put her spear diagonally across the wall behind the bed to fit it in. Still, it was snug and comfortable and it felt warm.
“Do you be havin’ any spare clothes?” asked the servant girl in Dwarven, which Astrid also had a little of. “We could wash t’ose you be in while you have bath an’ t’en you could be getting’ into somethin’ clean. T’ey be dry in a day.”
Astrid looked down. What she was wearing certainly did show signs of being a few weeks on the road, sleeping in trees and, now that her attention had been drawn to it, so did her hair and general aroma. “Yes, thank you. You are right—I smell.” She smiled ruefully.
The servant barely jumped, but her reputation would soon be spreading. Taking off her quiver and bow, hanging them from more hooks, and unpacking and carrying her spare clothes and a hair brush she allowed the girl to lead her downstairs. She left behind her weapons. She had to assume that, being under the protection of the Church, she should be safe here.
Chapter XVII
Asking the cards to tell you about the broad sweep of your future does not normally give you a very precise answer. It is not meant to do that. However, when your own reading of the cards sends you to ask the same questions of your grandmother and the professional seers in the Temple of Ganesh as well as getting a similar and long recorded result from the sages at the university and they all agree as to the main thrust of the answers, then you have little choice but to act. You just don’t have to be pleased about it.
Rani knew that she was unhappy with her life at the University of Pavitra Phāṭaka, the city known as Sacred Gate to the outsiders, but she didn’t know why. She knew that she had great talent as a mage. The ninth hour of the fourth day of the fourth week of the moon of the Dragon, in the Year of the Fire Dragon, as birth times were all very auspicious. Her hold on mana was strong and her spells were well constructed, efficient and destructive. She was bright and learnt quickly and from what she heard most thought that she taught well. Although she still had much to learn and felt that she had much more power to gain, she might be potentially the most potent battle mage Haven had seen for at least a century.
However, after eight years of study as a Master of Magic the only classes she was allowed to teach were for the daughters of Brahmins, none of whom would ever get much further than lighting fires, warming an infusion or other minor glamours. Other mages her age were given far more responsibility—but they were all men, to make it worse some were really only boys. She had not even spent as much time with the army in the field as she would like to; and that held her back as well. At least as a Kshatya of a long line of seers and mages she was respected and had a secure place to sit down and study and to prepare her battle magic and she was expected to do this.
Haven had not had a war for some time, but she could at least hope. If the savages of the swamps kept stealing c
attle and openly sacrificing them then perhaps she would get her chance. Other than a war, all she wanted was more responsibility as a teacher, better students—perhaps ones who had returned to do more study and wanted to add skills to those that they already had. All that the people around her at the university seemed to want from her were for her to keep on making magical items until she married so that she could produce more, acceptably male, mages.
She was not totally adverse to this idea and, at thirty she was considered odd to still be unmarried, but she just had not met anyone she wanted and, more importantly, her parents had found no one that they thought was suitable for her. Even in the largest city of Haven the number of eligible partners who were of the correct caste, age and ability was very small. In fact, unless someone’s wife died, at the moment for her the number of her suitable partners was, in fact, zero.
~~~
In an almost bored fashion Rani decided to resolve her problems by asking for advice from her cards. Like most seers she was reluctant, and to be honest too scared, to ask too closely about her own future, and thus the question was broadly framed. Any time she asked about herself she was reminded of the continuing story of a mage who had carefully constructed and prepared a spell that would let him know exactly when he would die.
The story went that all the witnesses to his casting swore that they heard the word ‘now’ as he fell to the floor dead. Senior mages all said that this had never happened, but the story would not go away and actual spells of personal prophecy were completely unheard of. Still, she had consulted her cards in some degree about herself and the answer had come back.
Intimations of Evil (Warriors of Vhast Book 1) Page 22
