The Days of the Deer

by Liliana Bodoc

  The Doctrinator clambered down into the boat that was to transfer him to his new ship. Leaning over the side of his own vessel, Leogrós watched him leave. As soon as he saw that the hunchback had reached his destination, he gave the order and the fleet divided in two.

  The three ships heading for the port of Beleram set course due west.

  The others turned their prows northwards. Some of them were heading for the Border Hills, where they would land in the uninhabited region that stretched between the last villages of the Offspring of the Northmen and the first cities of the Lords of the Sun. The others were to continue without nearing land until they were level with the abandoned ports, when they would set course to the west.

  The storm left together with the fleet. Leogrós’s ships took it with them. Their advance was cloaked in a dank, misty rain that accompanied them throughout the rest of their crossing. The sky above Drimus’s three vessels was a clear blue.

  19

  THE FEET OF THE DEER

  ‘Look at the sky!’ exclaimed Nakín, pointing towards the coast. ‘It seems as though the storm has decided to veer off north and leave us this beautiful blue sky. That usually heralds the arrival of good friends.’

  To Dulkancellin it appeared as though the Owl Clan representative was trying to find confirmation of her own feelings. He also thought that although rest had restored her beauty, she still looked weary. It was plain that to spend so much time in the solar world was a great effort for Nakín.

  They were walking together round the interior courtyard of the House of the Stars, which was shielded from the prying eyes of Beleram by high stone walls. The other representatives, together with Bor and Zabralkán, were doing the same. The Council had been meeting for seven days now, and this was the first time they had all been allowed to go outside. The Husihuilke warrior was overjoyed when he heard this from Zabralkán. Although they were accustomed to being given a rest after they had eaten, this was the first time they could do so in the central courtyard. They all gladly accepted the proposal.

  It was so pleasant to see the sky not through a wall opening, to breathe in the warm, moist jungle air. Even so, it was not enough to free them from their concerns. Each of them was going over the results of the latest discussions in their mind. Whenever two of them met on their walk, they would immediately begin talking them over.

  The Great Council had been in session for seven days – seven days of proposals and arguments. And still no decision had been reached.

  It appeared, however, that there was a general agreement, although this still met with resistance from some of the representatives, especially Elek. An attack before the strangers could say a word was beginning to seem like the only means of defence left to the Fertile Lands. This position, initially proposed by Molitzmós and Dulkancellin, was gradually gaining ground among the others. If they were to make a mistake, better an unjust battle than the end of Life itself. They were all aware that a mistake of this kind would bring down the Northmen’s wrath on their heads; and that sooner or later all the peoples of the continent would have to face the consequences. The risk was enormous, and yet the Council seemed to be edging towards it. So it was that even while the Council was still deliberating, preparations for war were being made.

  None of the peoples of the Fertile Lands was expert in naval warfare. The small fleet that the Offspring of the Northmen had constructed thanks to their inherited knowledge was made to transport goods, or at most take people up and down the coast. This meant that the war had to be fought on land. The Zitzahay army would not be able to resist any attack from the strangers for long; therefore everything was put in place to call on the forces of the Lords of the Sun, who had a large army that could reach Beleram in a matter of a few days. Although the Husihuilke warriors were the most feared, it would take them too long to arrive.

  ‘Let’s walk over to that staircase,’ Dulkancellin suggested.

  He had just recognized Cucub. The Zitzahay was seated at the foot of one of the many stairways that descended to the interior courtyard. He was so absorbed in his own thoughts he did not even seem to notice what was going on around him. Dulkancellin had not heard anything from him since the night when Cucub was sent to the market to get news and tortillas. The Husihuilke did not want to waste this opportunity, which might possibly not come again, and so he asked Nakín to go with him to the staircase where Cucub was resting, his eyes fixed on the cobblestones.

  ‘Wake up, Cucub!’ shouted Dulkancellin as he drew near.

  Looking up, Cucub tried to smile from ear to ear and with all his heart, as he usually did. Dulkancellin could see, however, that this was not the same smile that used to annoy him so. The Zitzahay got to his feet, greeted them both with a nod of the head, and tried his best to think of something amusing to recount. Fortunately for him, he did not have to keep up the pretence for long, because Nakín quickly realized that the two men wanted to be alone. When she saw Elek passing by on his own, she excused herself by saying she wanted to talk to him, and parted from them to catch the Offspring up.

  ‘Well? What’s wrong?’ asked Dulkancellin, always one to come straight to the point.

  Cucub sighed and sat down again.

  ‘If you sit here beside me, I’ll try to explain,’ said the Zitzahay. He fell silent for a while, then began: ‘You, brother, were with me when the Astronomers allowed me to go to the market, provided I stuck my nose into what the people of Beleram were saying. And you will recall, because it made you angry, that I was in an excellent mood, and left the House of the Stars full of optimism. It was such a shame that my happiness proved so short-lived! It began to fade even before I reached the market. And it disappeared completely as soon as I tried the cane-sugar honey.’

  Dulkancellin was on the point of standing up, furious at having allowed Cucub to entangle him in yet another of his ridiculous tales. It was only the memory of the little man’s sad smile that made him keep his patience.

  ‘I know the honey that comes from the cane-fields in my jungle,’ Cucub continued. ‘I can recognize its taste among thousands. When I was at the market, I tasted the honey from one pot and then another; but however many I tried, the old taste had vanished.’

  There could be no doubt Cucub was talking seriously. Dulkancellin tried to understand what he meant, but the Zitzahay’s growing anxiety only complicated matters.

  ‘Calm down, and try to find some other way to explain what you mean.’

  Dulkancellin’s advice only made the Zitzahay more anxious.

  ‘There is no other way! There isn’t! I’m telling you that the taste of honey has disappeared! Something must have terrified it for it to decide to abandon us.’

  Dulkancellin laid a hand on Cucub’s shoulder. At the very moment when he did not comprehend him, when the Zitzahay’s brain seemed clouded by nonsense, the Husihuilke felt he was truly his friend.

  Cucub gave up. He had known from the start it would be hard to make himself understood. Now he felt it would have been better to say nothing at all. What he had to do was to change topics, so that his distress would be forgotten.

  ‘Who is that man in magnificent garments walking with Bor?’ he asked offhandedly.

  ‘That’s Molitzmós, one of the Lords of the Sun,’ replied Dulkancellin.

  ‘I don’t like him,’ said Cucub instinctively.

  Molitzmós never wore the same garments twice, and they were always sumptuous. The clothes he was wearing shone like jewels in the sun as he walked with Bor in among the jasper fountains.

  ‘Everything often becomes unclear to me,’ Molitzmós was saying. ‘I don’t feel I understand anything.’

  In the Council, the representative of the Lords of the Sun had often stood out because of his keen intelligence. Not a session went by when Molitzmós failed to win the others’ admiration for his wise interventions, and it was Bor in particular who showed himself enchanted by the insight he evinced. So now the Supreme Astronomer found it hard to believe what he
was hearing.

  ‘How can someone like you be saying that?’

  ‘There are thoughts I would have preferred not to have, and yet they have come to me. Fears I would have liked to ignore, but found that impossible,’ said Molitzmós.

  ‘What are you referring to?’ asked the Astronomer.

  ‘I am referring to certain facts I learnt long ago, and which have come back to me now. In recent days it has been impossible for me not to recall the time when Magic was split by a feud – so much so that it divided into two Brotherhoods. One of them, perhaps the more numerous, remained in the Ancient Lands. The other embarked on the long journey to the Fertile Lands.’ Molitzmós looked over at his companion. ‘But look who I am telling all this to! You must know every last detail of those events.’

  ‘That doesn’t matter; go on ... please, go on.’ Bor was beginning to be disturbed by the direction their conversation was taking. ‘Follow your train of thought, and say what you have to say.’

  ‘If you insist,’ said Molitzmós, ‘although I already feel I have gone too far. As I was saying, after the split, the two Brotherhoods put an ocean between them. I was told that those who came here did so across the strip of land which in those days united the two continents.’

  ‘So it was,’ Bor agreed. ‘Our ancestors reached the Fertile Lands from the far north, bringing with them an invaluable inheritance; and to do so they used the land bridge you mentioned. Then—’

  Bor fell silent.

  ‘Were you about to mention what happened to that strip of land?’ So Molitzmós also knew about that. ‘Tell me, is what they say about it true, or merely a legend? Is it true that the Brotherhood who came to the Fertile Lands sent that bridge to the bottom of the Yentru Sea, in order to sever all links with their fellow Wizards on the other shore?’

  ‘It is completely true,’ replied Bor, sure by now that Molitzmós was aware of far more than was any of the other representatives. ‘The land bridge joining the two continents was buried deep under the ocean by the Magic of the Fertile Lands; and it was said it would remain there for ever. But you were the one who was talking.’

  ‘So,’ Molitzmós continued, ‘Magic went in two opposing directions. And I think it was enmity rather than the sea that caused the great gulf between them. The cause of their feud is plain to see from the names the two kinds of Magic adopted.’

  ‘The Enclosed Brotherhood and the Brotherhood of the Open Air,’ whispered Bor. ‘Both adopted their name with pride.’

  ‘As it was bound to be,’ replied Molitzmós. ‘The Enclosed Ones, as those who stayed in the Ancient Lands chose to call themselves, declared it was their duty and their right to watch over Creation. They created and strengthened an empire of Wisdom. Its aim was to devote itself to the Creatures, but never to discuss anything with them, or to consult them when important decisions had to be taken. Still less, to allow them to sit in judgement on their rule.’

  Bor considered it his duty to clarify the statement that the representative of the Lords of the Sun had made.

  ‘It is true: the Enclosed Brotherhood proclaimed that their Magic should rule alone over the Creatures. They insisted that the gift of Wisdom was proof that they should be the masters. Only the Wise have a natural, innate talent for selfless devotion. Therefore the Magic that possessed Wisdom would never misuse its power. They said that Wisdom makes the best rulers, because a Wise man can only be content when he is being generous. But those of the Brotherhood of the Open Air saw things very differently.’ Bor paused to see Molitzmós’s reaction, then went on: ‘This Brotherhood left the Ancient Lands with the hope of re-encountering here what they felt had been lost there: the true source of Magic. In their view, all that the Enclosed Brotherhood considered natural, and called their “duty to watch over the Creatures”, was in fact no more than arrogance. The Brotherhood of the Open Air considered that Magic in the Ancient Lands was straying from its origins, and so one day its light would die out. This conviction was what drove them to cross the sea and start again in the Fertile Lands, far from the walls in which the others enclosed themselves. Out in the open air.’

  ‘Far from any walls . . . out in the open air. Only you can say so much in so few words!’ Molitzmós praised him. And Bor, who was not deaf to words of praise, thanked him with a gratified smile.

  ‘We are talking of the distant past,’ the Astronomer reflected. ‘With the passage of time our differences were smoothed out. The enmity which split us no longer exists.’

  ‘However that may be, some are still in the Ancient Lands, and others here. The land bridge between the two continents has never resurfaced. And as far as I can tell, contacts between them and you are still few and far between.’ Molitzmós knew he was touching on a wound and tried to put things gently. ‘Would I be wrong in thinking that the differences have not disappeared altogether? Do not the Enclosed Brotherhood and the Brotherhood of the Open Air still behave in different ways?’

  The Supreme Astronomer tried very hard to conceal his unease.

  ‘It is obvious that the Magic of the Fertile Lands has never stifled the voice of the Creatures. On the contrary, we have drawn close to them and listened, as you can tell from this Council itself! Did we not send for you all so that together we could take such a vital decision? But if you mean that in the Ancient Lands, Magic proceeds in the opposite manner, we have to admit that this is possibly true.’ Bor took a deep breath before he went on. ‘But tell me, Molitzmós, how it is that we have reached this point? Explain what path led your thoughts back from the Council to the ancient schism within Magic.’

  As they walked past, Molitzmós reached out to stroke the jasper of the ornamental fountains. Sometimes he came to a halt, fascinated by the veins of colour in the stone.

  ‘I think it would be best to forget this conversation,’ he said.

  ‘Why should we do that?’ the Astronomer protested.

  By now they had reached the central pond. Elek and Nakín were standing beside it, competing to see who could make more of the calls of the birds swimming on it.

  ‘It will do them good to play for a while,’ said Molitzmós as the two men moved on.

  ‘Indeed, but don’t you play the game of having forgotten what I asked you.’

  There was no way out for Molitzmós. He had to finish what he had started.

  ‘As I said at the beginning: there are thoughts I should have preferred not to have, and fears I should have liked to ignore. There is no worse doubt than the one a person feels when everyone else is in agreement about something: that kind of doubt leads to loneliness. That is why I am making so bold as to talk to you, to unburden my heart.’ The representative of the Lords of the Sun spoke quickly, as if seeking to rid himself of something that was weighing down too heavily on him. ‘The Magic of the Fertile Lands, inheritor of the principles of the Brotherhood of the Open Air, treats all the Creatures as if they were its brothers. It talks to them, consults them, even accepts their judgement. A few days ago, for example, the Husihuilke spoke about the Earth Wizard so familiarly it was as if he were an old neighbour. That is how it has always been between you and us. Yet now, when the times demand the splendour of Wisdom, it is as though Wisdom itself has gone to sleep. The best or the worst is about to happen to us. The best or the worst? There have been signs, but nobody in the Fertile Lands is able to interpret them. Magic’s eyes are shrouded ... might this not be because it has mingled so much with mankind, the lukus, the birds .. .? I heard Zabralkán speak of confusing messages: what if on the other hand it is Magic which has lost the ability to read them? This is the fear I would have preferred not to know of. I am afraid that part of the truth has remained within those walls of the Ancient Lands. I am afraid that, in its desire to become a brother to all Creatures, Magic here has left them unprotected. You may be amazed that it is I who am questioning the Brotherhood I should support. Someone like me, a simple Creature who, thanks to that Brotherhood’s beliefs, can talk to you as an equal. Believe me, I
too am amazed. But if the survival of Life in the Fertile Lands depends on Magic taking command over us, we would be very happy to see Magic wield its power. And we would accept the empire of Wisdom without demur. I shall never speak of this again. Forgive me, and forget, I beg you, this impertinence of mine.’

  Bor’s hair was standing on end, and with good reason. Molitzmós had just expressed exactly what he had often thought in the middle of the night. Whenever ideas of this sort came to him, the Astronomer was robbed of sleep. Instead, he would wander the corridors of the House of the Stars, or climb to the topmost observatory, and stay there until day began to dawn. But neither his pacing up and down nor the pattern of the stars could give an answer to the question that had kept him awake: what if the Brotherhood of the Open Air had taken a wrong turn? Only seven days earlier, when Cucub and Dulkancellin had reached the House of the Stars, his doubts had resurfaced and troubled him again. How hard he had found it to give the Husihuilke warrior those long and delicate explanations! Yet it was Zabralkán who had asked him to do so, and so he had been obliged to comply. It had annoyed him that a Supreme Astronomer, who ought to be devoting himself to acquiring Wisdom, had to justify his decisions to a Husihuilke, born and trained for war. Now Molitzmós was saying the same thing in no uncertain terms. Bor was astonished at the daring of the Lords of the Sun’s representative – he himself, despite his position, had never dared communicate his own thoughts to Zabralkán. If occasionally he had hinted at them, the other man had responded with a silence that left no doubt about his attitude.

  ‘Do you think it will be hard to overlook my boldness?’

  The Supreme Astronomer understood he would have to say whatever was necessary so that Molitzmós would not suspect he shared his fears. He was about to speak when Zabralkán suddenly appeared, and saved him, for the moment at least.

  ‘I think Zabralkán is looking for you,’ said Molitzmós with an almost imperceptible smile.