“You’re allowing them all to come back?” Mia said in surprise. “Many of them are murderers and the like.”
“They’ve been punished for what they did,” Dethin said quietly. Mia nodded.
“So,” Tanist went on. “Lots of paperwork involved in all that – getting them recognised, finding them work and places to live. That will all fall to the Karningholders now. We’ve begun setting up procedures to register those sent across the border as Karningers again. Mia, you will be one of the first, and once that’s done, you’ll be able to go home. You’ll be glad of that, I’m sure. And I can spare Hurst – Klemmast’s quite keen to stay on and help out instead. But you’ll need to think about…”
He stopped, and again glanced at Dethin. “You have to decide what you’re going to do. I mean, it’s all very well here, this peculiar arrangement you have, but it won’t do at the Karninghold, you know. So, I want you to know – I want all of you to understand that there’s a place here for the Warlord – for Crannor. In fact, I’d be happy to have him back in harness as soon as you like. He can define his own role, if he doesn’t want to work with me. So that’s it – just wanted you all to know that. To make things clear.”
“Oh, that’s perfectly clear,” Mia said. “You want him to stay at the Ring while Hurst and I go to the Karning. You want to split us up.” She could barely keep the contempt out of her voice.
“I think it would be better,” Tanist said. “And after all, he has family here.”
“Do you?” she said in surprise, turning to him, and wondering why he had never mentioned it before.
He was impassive. “I did have, when I left. My parents settled here when I was a boy, and I had a brother and two sisters.”
“I never knew that!”
He shrugged. “I’ve been gone a long time. They could all be dead by now, or moved away.”
“No, they’re still here,” Tanist said smugly. “I checked.” He fished a paper out of a pocket, and slid it across the table.
“There – that’s the address I was given for them.”
Dethin glanced briefly at it. “That’s the place. But it’s been twenty years, and they believe me to be dead and burned.”
“Well then, they’ll be glad to know you’re alive, at least. I know I would be, if I’d lost someone.”
There was no change in his voice, but Mia caught a flash of grief – deep, abiding grief. His wife?
“Perhaps you should go,” she said to Dethin.
A flicker of uncertainty on his face. “You think so?”
“It would be a kindness. Think how they must have grieved for you all these years, Crannor.”
His face twisted, making him seem years younger. “I don’t know. Too many years have passed, too much has happened. It’s time to put that name aside. I’m not their son any more, Mia. Crannor died long ago.”
Tanist grunted. “At least write to them. Let them know.”
“Very well,” Dethin said, “but isn’t all this forward planning a little premature? Shouldn’t we deal with the Great Temple first?”
Tanist sighed. “Yes, the Temple.”
Mia had heard mention of some problem at the Great Temple, but now Tanist explained it. The Servants – indeed, all the Trannatta – had been declared enemies of the new government.
“All of them?” Mia asked, eyebrows lifting.
Tanist waved a hand impatiently. “Well, how are we supposed to choose between them? They’re all involved, all taking orders from their people on the north coast, all manipulating us for their own purposes. They can all go back there and leave us to manage the Karningplain in our own way.”
Some Trannatta had gone back to their craft village to the north, but many had scuttled away, hiding in their underground homes beneath the Great Temple. Tanist had drawn all his forces together and gone there to root them out. They knew they would face the Silent Guard, but they also found themselves facing several Karningholders and many Hundreds of well-trained Skirmishers. Facing a long, uncertain and bloody conflict, Tanist had withdrawn.
“We’re not fighting our own people,” he said, shaking his head. “We’ve done enough of that. The Silent Guard – well, that was inevitable. As soon as we draw a sword within the Temple grounds, they have to defend it. We had the numbers to deal with them without too much bloodshed, but Skirmishers as well? No, I won’t do that.”
Since then, negotiations had reached a stalemate, and no one could see a way forward.
“We can’t get at these blasted Trannatta, that’s the problem,” Tanist said gloomily. “The place is more full of holes than a hundred year old plains mound. We’ve found a few of their entrances, but undoubtedly there are plenty more. So they come and go as they please. Their tame Skirmishers sit up top in the great court, and there’s not a thing we can do.”
“What about the Silent Guard?” Dethin said, from his perch by the wall.
“What about them? They’re oathbound to defend the temple, we can’t do anything about that.”
“That’s just it, what exactly is their oath? Are they defending the temple or the Trannatta? We only want the Trannatta, they can keep the temple.”
“What exactly are you saying?”
Dethin got up and pulled his chair nearer to the desk. “We don’t know exactly what their purpose is, do we? We don’t even know if they will fight, if it comes down to it. We know so little about them. When we met those six in the tower, they were quite happy to lay down their weapons and leave. They didn’t want to fight us at all.”
“That’s true,” Hurst said. “Bit of a surprise, that.”
“They weren’t hostile at all,” Mia added. “They were friendly, almost as if they were pleased to see us.”
“One of the books I found for Mia had something about them,” Dethin said. “It’s a very old book and it gave quite a different picture. Called them the Temple Guards, for one thing. And they have some kind of prophecy.”
“The prophecy – that’s just nonsense, isn’t it?” Tanist said sharply.
“Nonsense they believe in, it seems. I wondered whether that was why they were so tame with us. Perhaps if we could find out more about it, we could use that, somehow.”
“Well… I don’t see what a prophecy has to do with anything,” Tanist shrugged, “but it doesn’t hurt to do a bit of research, I suppose. The scholars might know.” But he sounded unconvinced.
Dethin had already asked several of the scholars, but none knew anything about the prophecy. Then he had talked to the Nine, and that had been more fruitful.
“Gaminor and Gullinor dreamed up the Silent Guards, apparently,” he said to Mia as they left Tanist’s office. “Would you like to come with me to talk to them, or are you too tired?”
“I’m not tired,” she said truthfully, and so they went together.
Of all the Nine, Gaminor and Gullinor were the two who had most trouble adapting to life outside their high prison. The constant noise and bustle and erratic comings and goings were too much for them to deal with, and they had been found an apartment on the otherwise unoccupied ninth floor. There they lived in seclusion, but they had agreed to meet Dethin.
They greeted them both kindly. Alone of the Nine, they had kept the gown and long hair, so they looked just as Mia had first seen them in the Chamber of the Gods at the top of the tower.
“Yes, the Temple Guards, that was how they started,” Gaminor said. She poured wine for them as they sat round a small marble table. “That was quite early on, was it not?”
Gullinor nodded. “Oh yes, very early. The first temples, you see – well, all the Petty Kingdoms had their own religions and when the Slaves arrived and set up their own—”
“There was trouble, sometimes. Not always, but they – the Tre’annatha – became nervous, naturally. So we invented the Temple Guards. At first they were just ordinary Slaves, but later they were specially recruited and trained, a separate organisation. The silence came later – not our idea,
cutting out their tongues.”
“Did you devise their oath too?” Dethin took a sip of wine and set the glass back on the table.
“Oh yes. To protect and defend the sanctity of the temple – and so on. I forget the details. It was a long time ago.”
“And the prophecy?”
The two exchanged a glance. “I have no recollection of a prophecy, as such,” Gullinor said, and Gaminor shook her head. “But we did give them – principles. Something to keep them on the right path, and keep the Temple Slaves on the right path, too. We always built in an escape door, as it were, some way of ensuring that if any one group got too powerful, there would be another group to balance it.”
“That didn’t work too well with the Slaves, did it?” Mia said. “Look how they kept everyone in subjection for so long.”
They looked surprised. “Oh but – surely you realised…? The Tre’annatha bear no arms, you know. So we had two controls for them. The Temple Guards were one – if ever the Slaves veered too far from the principles we set down for them, the Temple Guards would bring them back into line, by force if need be. The Word of the Gods, you know. Our word, that is. We wanted to make sure they wouldn’t veer off the path. But outside the Temples, in the field of governance – the Skirmishers were the control. We devised it that way, yes. If things went wrong, there would be people with swords to take charge. And here you are!” And they beamed and nodded at each other, pleased.
Mia narrowed her eyes and glared at them. “And the barbarians? That was you, too, I suppose?”
They looked sorrowful. “Ah, yes. Well… there were barbarians originally, of course. So to start with, the Skirmishers were entirely defensive. But… they were too successful, perhaps. And then as Karnings were added, the border became bigger and the barbarians had vanished and…” They fell silent. Eventually, Gaminor sighed. “We had to do something. We needed the Skirmishers as the ultimate check on Tre’annatha power, we couldn’t easily reduce the numbers so… we thought up the boundary skirmishes, between Karnings, as a way to keep them trained, and we created our own barbarians to provide someone for them to fight along the border. But you know – it was supposed to be murderers, rapists, the worst kind of criminals. It was a kindness, we thought, an alternative to execution.”
“Kindness?” Mia couldn’t keep the contempt out of her voice. “A lot of people suffered under your kindness.”
“Better than death, surely?”
“Yes, yes!” said Gullinor eagerly. “A second chance, you see. A fresh start.”
“We never intended – I suppose whatever system is in place, someone will abuse it.”
“And at least it roused the Skirmishers to revolt,” Gullinor said. “Eventually. So in a way it worked… after a fashion.”
Dethin was very subdued after this. They walked down to the sixth level for the noon meal, and he said not a word the entire way and then chewed his food in silence.
“They meant well,” Mia said eventually, when the meal was over and it seemed he might be wreathed in gloom all day.
“Who did?”
“The Nine. Sending people across the border to be barbarians. It was done with the best of intentions.”
“Oh. That. I’m sure it was. Oh, did you think—? No, I’ve long since come to terms with what was done to me. No point in agonising over it. I was just disappointed that they knew nothing about this prophecy. How am I to find out about it now?”
“Where did you read about it?”
“One of the books I brought down from the higher levels for you.”
He went and fetched it from their apartment, and spread the pages out on the table while Mia and Hurst bent over it, peering at the tiny script and strangely devised lettering.
“Here,” Dethin said, pointing. “‘Until the One shall come forth to set us free and the Prophecy shall be fulfilled in all its terms.’ See?”
“But it doesn’t say what the terms are?”
“No, not there. I’ve found a couple of other references, but nothing very specific. Perhaps it’s a great secret and it’s not written down anywhere. They don’t read or write, do they?”
“So I’ve heard. And they must take the oath using their strange hand signals. Not so much secret, as no one else can understand them. And there’s nothing else in this book about it?”
“Not that I’ve found. Mind you, I haven’t read every last word, just skimmed it, really. It hurts my eyes to read too much at once.”
“Do you want me to look through it, see if I can find something?” Mia said.
“Oh – would you?” Relief flooded his face. “I’d be grateful. I’m – not used to reading much anymore.”
In the end, it wasn’t Mia who found the prophecy, it was Gaminor. She had brought all her favourite books down from the top of the tower, and after talking to Dethin, she and Gullinor had set to work trawling through everything they had which mentioned the Silent Guards. So one day at the noon meal, Sylinor and Pashinor came to find Dethin, big smiles on their faces, and a massive wooden-bound book under one arm.
“Gaminor and Gullinor send their compliments,” Sylinor said, “and think you should have a look at this.”
He set the book down on the table and opened it at a page marked with a thin strip of leather. The pages were yellowed with age but otherwise unblemished and free of dust. It was the type made with single pages, not strips joined together.
“Here, look. The prophecy.”
“‘We the Guardians of all the Temples of the Inner Plains of Kallanash do solemnly swear to uphold…’ This is their oath,” Dethin said, puzzled.
“Yes, yes, it’s in the oath. Right at the bottom, look – here. From ‘And we desire no other…’”
Dethin turned back to the book. “‘And we desire no other life, keeping ourselves with pride only to the company of our brothers and forsaking the comfort of wife or child, for every day of our lives, whether that be long or short, until the day foretold shall come to pass, when the One will free us from our servitude; the Gods shall send Him, and He shall be like no man of this world; He shall come from Outside to free all the people from Oppression and bring Joy to those bound to the will of others; and He shall declare an end to our time of bondage, allowing us to choose each of us his own path in life. He shall declare Himself to us in the shadow of the Great Temple, and He shall prove Himself by His great powers, given to Him by grace of the Gods, and the proof of it will lie in the power of His voice, and in the Turning of the Worm.’”
“What in the Vortex does that mean?” Hurst asked in bewildered tones.
Mia could feel bubbles of excitement rising inside. “Isn’t it obvious? An outsider, who’ll free them from oppression and – turning the worm? Who do we know who’s turned the worm?”
“Dethin? The keelarim?” Hurst began to smile. “And the power of his voice! Of course! I think you’re right.”
She laughed from pure pleasure.
“Come on,” Hurst said, grabbing her hand. “Let’s show this to Tanist.”
56: The Great Temple (Hurst)
Dethin was the only one unconvinced by the argument that he was the subject of the prophecy.
“The Silent Guards know nothing about the keelarim,” he muttered. “How is that going to help?”
“Let’s put you in the shadow of the Great Temple,” Tanist said, “and you can talk to them and we’ll see what happens.”
“And if they don’t accept me? We’ll have the same situation as last time, us against the Silent Guards and a lot of Skirmishers, and a second withdrawal would make us look weak.”
“We still have our swords. We’ve talked a few Karningholders out of their opposition, so we should have greater numbers this time. If it comes to it, we’ll fight for it. But if we can avoid that… It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”
Hurst rather liked the idea of Dethin simply talking his way out of trouble. He remembered how willing the Silent Guards had been to defer to him at the top o
f the tower, when he had made his pretty speech about freedom and oppression. He certainly had a way with words. If he could do that again, and the Silent Guards laid down their weapons, they could take over the Great Temple without bloodshed, and how good that would be! He need only tell them of the keelarim, he supposed, since there was probably no way of summoning a few to demonstrate his power. Although there were endless tunnels below the Great Temple – maybe a few connected to keelarim holes.
It was going to take a few days to arrange to bring all their supporters together, and Hurst found himself at something of a loose end. Tanist sent for him less often, perhaps a way of gently easing him out of the political machinations in readiness for a return to the Karning with Mia. He didn’t mind that. He had always been happier to be active, and sitting around in endless meetings bored him witless. His brother Klemmast, now the preferred second-in-command, was much better suited to such a task.
So he got back into regular training, often with Dethin, now that Mia was up and about. The three of them ate all their meals together, spent the stillness in their apartment and often spent the evenings together too, Hurst teaching Dethin to play crowns while Mia read, or sometimes they all read, the three of them sitting in companionable silence with books open before them. Then they all went to bed together, and that still felt right.
He had to admit that he liked Dethin. Even though several of his brothers were at the tower now, not to mention cousins and uncles, he still preferred the Warlord’s company above almost anyone else, apart from Mia and his own Companions. He wondered sometimes just what would happen when he and Mia went back to the Karning, whether Dethin would go with them or not, but no one else mentioned it so he didn’t either.
The Plains of Kallanash Page 63
