by Roger Taylor
Vashnar grimaced. ‘Yes. They were the nearest. Handle it quietly, I thought. I don’t know what possessed me. I mustn’t have been thinking properly.’ He straightened up. ‘Iwasn’t thinking properly. I knew he was going to blurt out what had happened to anyone he met – Caddoran Oath or not. I knew it. Rhavvan wouldn’t be a problem. He’s just a plodding Warden, he’ll do as he’s told. But Hyrald would have been suspicious at the least, and you know him, he never gives up. Too much of a street Warden. It’s a shame, but we’d have had to deal with him sooner or later – and that sister of his.’ Vellain nodded; it was a matter they had discussed in the past.
‘Hence the Death Cry for all of them.’
‘For all of them,’ Vashnar confirmed. ‘There wasn’t time to have them dealt with discreetly. I’d no one immediately to hand who could’ve done it. The idea of the Death Cry just came to me out of nowhere.’ He gave a bitter grunt. ‘One of the advantages of my assiduous study of our history, my dear. Ideal, I thought. The mob would do the job before Thyrn or the others had a chance to be heard.’
But while none of the fugitives had apparently spoken out, the mob hadn’t done the job, Vellain mused as she sat watching her silent husband staring into the dead grate. Hyrald was not only able, he was popular. Almost certainly someone had warned him, and more than a few would have helped him. The only redeeming factor of his escape was that he was now probably far from both Arvenshelm and help. The latest rumours were that the group was fleeing north. All in all, it was a better conclusion than it had promised to be, not least because it removed Hyrald from any opportunity to oppose Vashnar’s plans. And too, she reflected, the resurrection of this ancient form of justice had brought an uneasiness – a tension – to the streets, which she was sure could be used as an excuse for Vashnar to recruit new Wardens and increase his already considerable power.
It concerned her a little however, that since that day she had been unable to persuade her husband to discuss in more detail what had happened during his encounter with Thyrn. Something told her that it could not be allowed to lie, to fester unseen. Who knew what harm might come of it, mouldering in the darkness? But a range of approaches, from the oblique to the very direct, had failed to elicit anything other than an offhand dismissal.
‘Some other time, my dear.’
In the end, sensing that further effort might serve only to build up resistance, she had resolved to retreat and to watch and wait. Sooner or later, an opportunity would present itself and she must be ready.
Could it be now? she wondered. Vashnar had arrived home unexpectedly and had been unusually silent. Something bad had happened, she could sense it, and though the only outward sign of anything out of the ordinary had been a bloodstained kerchief, she could not shake off the feeling that Thyrn was involved in some way.
‘Trouble with a prisoner?’ she had asked as casually as she could, though she knew that Senior Wardens rarely had anything to do with prisoners. Her concerns were confirmed when she received only a cursory shake of the head by way of reply.
Now, long into his silence, she tried again.
‘Reading the coals?’ she asked with a smile.
Vashnar turned to her blankly.
‘Reading the coals?’ she repeated, still smiling. It was a game they played in the winter months: watching the progress of the flames hissing and spitting through a landscape of glowing coals; wagering which crag would be the first engorged, which valley filled and choked, which sheer face would suddenly spall and crash to fill the black air with bright fleeing sparks. The whole like a distant and terrible battlefield where weapons beyond imagining were being used, and where all led inexorably to a great levelling and a dull grey death.
He glanced back at the dead grate, but did not respond to her irony. It gave her the opportunity she needed. She reached forward and laid a hand on his arm. What’s the matter?’ she said simply.
Vashnar met her gaze. It urged him on. He patted her hand then placed the ends of his fingers against his forehead. ‘Thyrn,’ he replied.
‘Has he been caught?’ Vellain asked urgently, torn between exhilaration and fear that perhaps the errant Caddoran had made public what he had discovered.
Vashnar frowned and closed his eyes. ‘No. I’ve no idea where he is, except that Hyrald’s still with him – and presumably the others – and that he wants to flee, to hide.’
Vellain’s brow furrowed. ‘How do you know?’ she asked, suddenly anxious. ‘Has someone seen them, spoken to them?’
Vashnar pressed his fingers into his forehead again, harder, as he shook his head. ‘No. He… touched… me again. Got into my mind.’ His face was angry when he turned to her but she could tell that the anger was not directed at her. ‘Everything we know tells us they’re somewhere up north by now, but somehow he reached out and got into my mind – just as he did when he was sitting opposite me.’
His eyes hardened and his jaw set. ‘I think, in due course, we’ll have to curtail the entire Caddoran Congress as well. We don’t want to risk anymore like him.’
Vellain’s original concerns for her husband’s sanity returned to full force at this further alarming revelation, and it was only with a desperate rehearsal of her previous reasoning that she managed to keep her voice calm. ‘That’s a detail,’ she said quickly. Shocked though she was, she had sufficient presence of mind to note that, whatever had happened it had brought the subject out into the light again, and it must not be allowed to slip away, as well it might if her husband retreated into the reassuring practicality of his future intentions. She must concentrate on the simple, immediate reality. ‘That’s for later. Much later. Let’s deal with the present, now. Tell me exactly what happened. All of it.’
Her manner jolted the tale out of him, but his voice became increasingly clipped and dismissive, as if the words were an offence to him. He fell silent for a moment when he had finished, then added hesitantly, ‘I wonder if I’m going mad.’
Without hesitation, Vellain spoke the answer she herself had reached before. ‘No. You haven’t the imagination. You’re as sane as I am. What happened, happened, however strange it might seem – trust in that. And you’re right, we’ll have to deal with the Caddoran Congress eventually. They’re a peculiar crowd at the best and there was always somethingvery odd about Thyrn. Having him here, reciting your messages, was like having you here in person. As if he’d stolen part of you – trapped you in his body.’ She shuddered. It was a genuine reaction. ‘But from what you’ve just told me, it seems all he wants to do is run away. Probably he doesn’t want this… linkage… any more than you do. But perhaps he has no control over it.’ She felt calmer. Her voice became authoritative and confident. ‘He won’t come back. In fact, I can’t see any of them trying to come back. Not in the immediate future anyway. And if they do come back in due course, it won’t matter, will it? It’ll be too late. I think you should just forget about him. Either they’ll leave the country or they’ll be found, and if they’re found they’ll probably be killed.’
‘And if they’re not?’
Vellain’s hand tightened around his arm. ‘If they’re not, then who’s going to believe Thyrn? A demented Caddoran, given too responsible a position at too young an age. Encouraged to breach his Oath by a doting relative and three corrupt Wardens.’ She brightened, ideas flowing now. ‘It may even be better if he does come back. It’ll give you a first-class opportunity to start discrediting all the Caddoran. They’ve been grossly negligent, after all, putting so frail a creature in so sensitive a position. They did virtually thrust the lad on you.’ She slipped out of her chair and knelt by him conspiratorially. ‘They might even have done it as a deliberate act to discredit you, or spy on you, for who can say what sinister motives? They’re such strange creatures, aren’t they?’
Vashnar freed his arm and put it around her head, drawing her close to him.
‘We do well, you and I,’ he said.
‘Indeed we do,’ she replied.
They were silent for a while. Then Vashnar leaned back and closed his eyes. ‘But why did this happen? How did he do it? It can’t be possible to just… get into someone’s head, take their thoughts like that.’
‘Why does a cat land on its feet when you drop it? How does a fly land on a ceiling? Who knows?’ Vellain was witheringly dismissive. She abandoned her prayer-like attitude and dropped back into her chair. ‘Who cares? There’ll always be more questions than answers. Leave them to the academics, the teachers; it’ll stop them worrying about other things. You live in the real world – a world in desperate need of the order you can bring as Dictator. Morlider off the coast, menace from Nesdiryn, the Moot in decay – that’s all you need to concern yourself about.’
‘But if it happens again?’
Vellain shrugged. ‘It happens. What’s a headache and a nose bleed? You’ve had worse than that in your time. If anything like it happens again, just tell me. We’ll talk about it for five minutes – see if anything’s to be learned from it – then get on with more important matters. Tell me what Bowlott wanted.’
But Vashnar was not prepared to let the subject go so easily. ‘No. It’s not that simple. You don’t know what it was like – you can’t. Lost, floundering in the dark, not knowing who I was, where I was, evenif I was. What if it happens when I’m out on some public duty or in the middle of a meeting?’
It was a difficult question but Vellain bounced back an answer before she even thought about it. ‘Why should it? It hasn’t happened before.’ She paused. ‘And I don’t think it will. Not while you’re busy, your mind occupied. I think you had to be alone and quiet, and maybe he had to be the same, wherever he is.’
‘But…’
Vellain was dismissive again. ‘But if it does, if you pass out in the middle of something, so what? We’ll say it’s something you ate. Even a Senior Commander of the Wardens isn’t immune to a stomach upset, is he?’ She became intense. ‘This is all working our way. Tension on the streets, Hyrald and his sister – always a potential problem – gone, Senators beginning to scuttle about. All to the good. Now tell me about Bowlott.’
Her manner lifted Vashnar out of the lingering remains of his dark reverie.
‘Nothing much,’ he said. ‘Impertinent little goat actually ordered me to come and see him, then blamed it on some Page.’ He screwed up his face in distaste. ‘He’s a wretched creature. And that office of his – it’s appalling. I thought I was going to choke to death with the dust. There must be things in there that haven’t been moved since Marab’s time. And not a vestige of daylight. Dreadful place – typical of the whole Moot. The sooner the torch is put to the lot, the better.’
‘But what did he want?’
‘Just being nosy, that’s all. The Death Cry’s none of his business but he wanted to know if he – the Moot – could help.’ Vellain chuckled unpleasantly. ‘Help! As if they could. I’m surprised any of them can even get dressed without a committee to tell them how. They’ve had people coming in and wanting to talk to their Senators, that’s all. You know how that upsets them – reality washing around their feet.’
Vellain smiled then laughed. All was well. Thyrn and his strange connection with her husband was disturbing, but there were bigger clouds in the sky and while Vashnar could tell her about it, she deemed it unimportant. As for Bowlott’s sudden interest, that was no problem. The man was a cipher like all of them, a relic of times long gone – and not even a quaint relic at that. Soon they’d all be gone. Every last one of them.
Chapter 9
Endryk reached down and touched the snarling dog gently. ‘Easy,’ he whispered. ‘It’s all right.’
Rhavvan’s hand was moving towards a knife in his belt.
‘Don’t,’ Endryk said, softly but urgently. Rhavvan hesitated and Endryk’s free hand extended to emphasize his command. ‘Nals isn’t a pet. He’s neither trained nor tame, he does what he wants. And he knows about weapons. He’s also afraid of nothing and if he goes for you I won’t be able to stop him. He’ll hurt you badly even if you kill him.’
There was no challenge or threat in Endryk’s voice, just quiet and patently sincere advice, and Rhavvan made no further movement. Nevertheless he could do no other than demand to know, ‘What’s he doing that for, then?’
‘My fault, probably,’ Endryk replied. ‘For some reason he’s very protective of me. He sensed trouble.’
‘Why? No one threatened you.’
At a further touch from Endryk, Nals grudgingly stopped his silent display and lay down. His head sank forward on to his paws, but his unblinking eyes moved relentlessly back and forth across the watching group.
‘Thyrn startled me with what he said, that’s all. Caught me unawares. Nals probably picked it up. Does the lad read minds?’ Endryk’s eyes belied the half-joking note in his voice.
‘Are you from the north?’ Hyrald asked, ignoring the question. ‘Your accent’s different from ours, but I just took it to be a local one.’
‘I’m here because I want to be,’ Endryk replied, ignoring Hyrald’s question in turn. ‘Where I come from is no one’s affair. Suffice it I don’t want to be reminded of the past.’
Hyrald looked at him. ‘And I don’t want to intrude,’ he said after a moment. ‘Not after everything you’ve done for us – we’re already considerably in your debt. But you know our position and if you can tell us anything about what there is to the north that could help us, I’d welcome the benefit of your experience.’
‘I told you, I’m not accepting burdens. You owe me nothing.’
‘But you are from the north?’
‘I’m here.’
Thyrn’s trembling voice intruded. ‘We must get away from this place, from Vashnar. He’s going to make dreadful things happen. He’s…’
‘For pity’s sake, be quiet!’ Hyrald snapped angrily, rounding on him. Everyone froze at his unexpected ferocity. To avoid their collective gaze he looked upwards and blew out a noisy breath.
The sky was clear and blue, open and wide.
It would be thus when they were gone.
Beautiful and indifferent.
Large white birds were wheeling in wide graceful circles high above. Their freedom seemed to sharpen his sense of his own bonds.
And yet? Something inside him shifted. ‘I’m not accepting burdens,’ Endryk had said. The simple statement seemed to ring through the arching sky, echoing louder and louder, subtly changing, until finally it became a silent, pounding question.
‘What binds you?’
It jolted him.
In the inner silence that followed, Hyrald knew that the asking of the question was its own answer. And one he already knew. One he had learned a long time ago. All things were as they were and must be accepted as such. Anything else was folly – sometimes dangerous folly. Getting through life safely and sanely was primarily a matter of deciding what could be changed and what not, then dealing with the former and letting the latter go, both wholeheartedly.
His spasm of anger vanished into depths of the sky. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said to Endryk. ‘We’ve disturbed you long enough and now we’ve obviously woken an old pain by way of thanks. There’s nothing up north for us, is there?’
Endryk opened his arms. ‘People, places, bad, good. Who knows, for you. Not for me, certainly. Not yet. Not for quite a time, I think.’
Hyrald nodded, then spoke directly to Thyrn. ‘It ends here,’ he said, his voice both grim and pained. ‘I can see no peace in exile, still less in continual flight – for any of us. Apart from the fact that we’ve done nothing wrong, we’re Arvens. I wouldn’t say we belong here no matter what, but everything I know tells me we’ll be lost beyond recall if we just carry on running in the hope of finding some strange land to hide in.’ Thyrn made to speak but Hyrald stopped him. ‘Listen to me, Thyrn. Grasp this. Whatever made you what you are, whatever brought you to this place, has happened. It can’t be changed or run away from and nothing but hurt is going t
o be achieved by denying that. You need to understand that.’
‘But Vashnar’s going to…’
‘No! I said listen to me.’ Hyrald became insistent. ‘No one knows what anyone’s going to do. I don’t know what you’ve touched on in Vashnar, something bad without a doubt, but it’s not the future. No one can know the future. Only in children’s tales and ancient myths.’ He scuffed the sandy ground with his foot, scarring it dark brown and raising a small flurry of dust. Some of it spilled up on to the toe of his boot, while the rest slowly dispersed in an unfelt breeze. ‘Who could have foreseen what I just did or where each tiny part of that dust would fall? And every least action makes the future. We’re all practical people here, Thyrn. We plan, we think, we anticipate, but always we know things will turn out otherwise… sometimes a little, sometimes massively. And either way, in the end, we have to accept and deal with the reality that comes to pass. That’s one of the differences between children and adults – though a lot of people never come to understand it, believe me. All of which leaves me with the knowledge that I don’t think I can run any further. Not now it comes to it. I don’t think any of us can. Too many ties. You’re free to go on wherever you like, but I… we…’ He glanced round at the others. ‘We have to find another way.’
Thyrn stared at him, wide-eyed. Nordath stood pale and silent.
‘Besides, whatever problem you’ve got with Vashnar is indeed a Caddoran matter, and quite beyond anything any of us here can help you with.’
Thyrn made to speak but Hyrald pressed on, earnest and encouraging. ‘Think about this. Somewhere inside you is a resource that will help you deal with what’s happening. You’re the Caddoran, not Vashnar – at least he’s only part one, perhaps.’ He laid a scornful emphasis on the last word. ‘Not only that but you’re one of the best there’s ever been – so everyone tells me. You’ve all the advantages even if you can’t see them at the moment. If you meet Vashnar in this strange way again,’ he tapped his head, ‘remember that it’syour territory. You can deal with him there. Don’t keep fretting about running away. That’s a sure way both to cloud your own vision and to bring a predator after you. It’s usually better to face what’s behind you than crash into some future that might well be worse and find yourself trapped between the two. Trust yourself, Thyrn, you’ve more in you than you know. I’ve seen that for myself.’ He became matter-of-fact. ‘Besides, it seems to me that this mysterious connection you have with Vashnar has nothing to do with distance. If you can somehow come together with you here and him in Arvenshelm, then I’ve a feeling that putting a sea between you won’t make any difference.’ He stopped, taken by an unexpected but obvious thought. ‘And he must be very afraid of you,’ he said, half to himself, half to the others. ‘Why else would he have gone to such an extremity as proclaiming the Death Cry? And against his own kind, too?’
