The Jasper Forest

by Julia Gray

  Kerin shrugged again, as if disavowing any knowledge of his son's character.

  'Just give him a chance,' Aylen pleaded. 'An opening.'

  'He can do anything he likes. I'm not stopping him.'

  'I give up,' Aylen muttered, waving his hands in the air. 'I'm going to work.'

  After he left, Terrel desperately wanted to say something, but the look on Kerin's face and the lingering atmosphere of antagonism kept him quiet.

  *

  In contrast to earlier times, the Mirana home had become a cold and lifeless place. With Olandis gone, Ysatel still deep in her coma, Kerin brooding and Aylen helpless to do anything about it, there was little Terrel could do to lighten the mood. Not even Aylen seemed willing to talk to him any more, and Terrel could not help wondering if he was being blamed in some way for what had happened. As a result he could only look on in misery as the family he had once thought to be invulnerable tore itself apart. He didn't want to believe that this was inevitable for all families, but the conclusion seemed inescapable. If these things could happen to such a tight-knit unit, what hope was there for the rest of humanity?

  As time passed, the person he missed most was, of course, Ysatel. It was she who had first made him feel that he belonged in Fenduca and, as someone who'd never had a real home - or family - of his own, that had been enormously important to him. Now she was gone, beyond even the reach of his talents, and Terrel was bereft.

  Ysatel's almost lifeless body still lay in the hut's small side-room. No one had yet suggested moving her to the cave with the other sleepers - Terrel dreaded to think what Kerin's reaction would be if they did - and the boy had thus been able to monitor her progress as best he could. He visited her each morning and evening, trying to ignore the habitual look of hope Kerin gave him as he came in. He always took her hand, but although he occasionally felt a tentative connection, these moments were only fleeting and uninformative - and they were growing weaker. She was fading gradually from his waking dream, and Terrel knew that eventually she would become like the men and woman in the cave, and that he would then

  feel nothing at all when he touched her. For a moment he wondered whether it would be the same with Alyssa, in spite of her being able to come to him in another form.

  Alyssa had been a sleeper now for more than three-quarters of a year, which -

  while it was a lot less than the unfortunates in the cave - still seemed an age to Terrel. The thought of her spirit fading, and his losing contact with her, was unbearable.

  There had been no sign of Alyssa and the ghosts since their visit on the day after Ysatel's fall. Terrel had long since given up trying to think of anything he could do to make them come, and had resigned himself to simply waiting. In the meantime, he continued his healing work in the village, although that gave him less satisfaction than it had once done. The fact that he could do nothing for Ysatel - something he suspected Kerin secretly resented - made his other achievements seem almost pointless. Nevertheless, those he treated were still grateful, and the gifts he earned went some way to supplementing the household's meagre income.

  However, one of his patients was unable to give him anything in payment.

  Cardos was slowly recovering his health - although his face would always be disfigured -and as he had no family, he had been staying in the infirmary. He had refused to talk about his time on the mountain, and after the events precipitated by his return, most people wanted little to do with him. Apart from Terrel, and occasional visits from some of the village women, the only person who went to see him regularly was Aylen -and he always left when Terrel arrived, and wouldn't discuss what had passed between them.

  One of the few things Terrel was grateful for was the fact that Farazin had made no more mention of the villagers' dream predictions, or of a possible meeting with the sharaken. If the Collector who had visited Fenduca was a true representative of the mystics, Terrel wanted nothing to do with them - and certainly did not want to travel to their mountainous retreat in Macul's interior. Their lofty attitudes seemed to him to be almost as bad as the venal greed displayed by the country's rulers.

  Neither seemed to have any regard for the general population, and Terrel could not help comparing them to the equivalent authorities in the Floating Islands.

  It was true that the imperial forces and the seers paid little attention to the troubles of the common people of Vadanis, but at least their attitudes had not been actively pernicious.

  These thoughts were enough to make Terrel feel even more homesick - until he remembered that the Emperor was actually his father, and that the seers had been among those responsible for his abandonment as a baby. After that he decided that all governments must be as vile and corrupt as each other.

  The spring rains returned that afternoon, bringing with them renewed worries about a further mudslide. Rumours had been circulating that the soldiers were preparing another 'accidental' avalanche, but as there was nothing the villagers could do about this - even if it were true -they went about their business as usual. After everything that had happened to him, Terrel was beginning to understand their fatalism.

  He was hurrying down one of the village paths, resigned to getting soaked before he reached the shelter of Kerin's hut, when he was hailed from one of the nearby

  buildings. This was a ramshackle place, whose owner — a one-eyed man called Arbanas — made a precarious living selling the ale he brewed himself, wines and spirits he bought from travellers, and occasionally even some food. The quality of his merchandise was mediocre, and because Terrel had had an aversion to alcohol ever since his experience in Tiscamanita - when he'd got so drunk that the enchanter had been able to control his body as well as his mind — he had never been inside before. However, the man beckoning to him now was a well-dressed stranger, and the prospect of getting out of the rain made Terrel hesitate. Going back to the Mirana home no longer held much attraction, so he went over to the ale-house and stepped inside.

  'You're Terrel, aren't you?'

  As the stranger let the protective canopy fall back over the doorway, the only illumination in the bar came from two sputtering candles, and it was hard for Terrel to make out many details. The place was almost empty, and the air smelt stale.

  'Yes, I'm Terrel. Who are you?'

  'My name is Bezaki Antin, but most people call me Rider. Can I buy you a drink? Or what passes for a drink in these parts,' he amended with a grin.

  'No, thank you.' Terrel knew of Rider by reputation. He was one of the merchants who came regularly to trade with Cutter, always arriving on horseback with two other mounted men acting as his bodyguards.

  'Very wise. Arbanas here has tried to poison me on more than one occasion.'

  'I'll succeed one of these days,' the landlord commented gruffly from the depths of the room.

  'Good health to you too,' Rider said, laughing.

  'What do you want with me?' Terrel asked.

  'Well, I've completed my trading with my dear friend Cutter,' the merchant replied. 'And I've paid my respects to Farazin. I'd normally have left by now

  - there's not much else to keep me in Fenduca - but it's too late in the day to start journeying again, so I've some time on my hands. It's been suggested that you might be able to offer more original and intelligent conversation than most people here.'

  'These people are my friends,' Terrel pointed out.

  'I meant no offence,' Rider said quickly, still smiling. 'But you're new to this region, aren't you?'

  Terrel nodded.

  'And to be honest,' the merchant went on, 'I was curious to meet the healer everyone's been talking about.'

  'Well, now you've met me,' Terrel said shortly. The man seemed affable enough, but his slightly condescending manner was beginning to irritate the boy.

  Bezaki Antin obviously liked the sound of his own voice, and Terrel doubted that he would gain much from any conversation.

  'I'll be straight with you, Terrel,' Rider said, his expression e
arnest now.

  'I don't believe in things I can't see and touch, and you don't look like much to me, but too many people have been singing your praises for me to ignore it completely. One of my servants has injured his shoulder.' He waved a hand at two burly men sitting in a dingy recess at the end of the room. 'The stupid oaf doesn't even know how he did it, but he can't raise his right arm above chest height. That's his sword arm, which makes him about as effective a bodyguard as a blueriver

  duckling. I was wondering if you'd work some of your magic on him - for a suitable fee, of course.'

  Terrel hesitated for only an instant before replying. He was learning that being a healer carried its own obligations, and now that he knew the true reason for Rider's invitation, he wanted to end the encounter as quickly as possible.

  'All right. Which of them is it?'

  'Draven, get up here.'

  The bodyguard stood up and walked over to them, eyeing Terrel with some suspicion. Like his master, he was clearly sceptical about the healing process.

  'Give me your hand.'

  Draven hesitated, then - looking distinctly embarrassed - laid his calloused fingers on the boy's outstretched palm. Making a connection was something that now came naturally to Terrel, but on this occasion he met more resistance than was usual, and he put this down to the man's lack of belief. But the pain in Draven's shoulder was real enough, and Terrel shuddered involuntarily when he reached it. The injury itself was not really serious — it would have mended in time — but while it lasted it was not only agonizing but debilitating too. He dealt instinctively with the pain, enabling the patient to control it himself, then moved his attentions to the joint, noting where the problems lay and adjusting the play of muscles so that they caused the least possible discomfort. It was not a cure, but it was the next best thing. Terrel withdrew his hand.

  'Try it now.'

  Draven did so, flexing his arm, then raising it gingerly, before lifting it above his head. His expression as he did

  so was almost comical, and his amazement was echoed on his master's face.

  'Moons!' Rider exclaimed heartily. 'If he'd tried to do that earlier today he'd have been squealing like a stuck pig. You really are a healer, boy.'

  Yes, I am, Terrel thought, with some satisfaction. And I can do it even when someone has no faith in me.

  'It'll be stiff and sore for a while,' he told the guard, 'but you'll be as good as new in a month or so.'

  'Thanks,' Draven said quietly.

  'That's all you can say?' Rider demanded.

  'That's all that's necessary,' Terrel said.

  'I'm sorry I doubted you,' the merchant told the boy. 'I've never seen anything like it.' He dug into his belt-pouch and picked out four stones.

  'Will one of these do for your fee?' he asked, holding them out.

  'Any of them.'

  'Then choose one.'

  Knowing that this was another of Rider's games, another test, Terrel was tempted just to pick the first one that took his eye. But then he resolved to make a considered choice. Kerin and his sons had taught him a little about the relative values of their finds, and he owed it to them to get as much as he could from Bezaki. The merchant could afford it, after all.

  In the end he settled on a dull-coloured, irregularly-shaped nugget that promised a good yield of metal within.

  Rider nodded approvingly.

  'Not just a healer, I see,' he commented. 'Most novices would've gone for something prettier, but you've chosen the best of the four.'

  Terrel pocketed the stone, feeling in no need of the merchant's flattery, and turned to go.

  'You're wasted here, Terrel. Why do you stay?'

  'I don't have much choice.'

  'A man of your talents would be welcome anywhere, and you could earn much more than a few stones.'

  'I'm not interested in that.'

  'Such selflessness!' Rider exclaimed, half mocking.

  'Besides,' Terrel added, 'when I leave here, I'm going home.'

  'And where is home? I haven't been able to place your accent.'

  'I come from Vadanis. It's one of what you call the Cursed Islands.' He found that he was childishly pleased to note the shock that registered on Bezaki's face.

  'No wonder,' the merchant said, then paused. 'Getting back there's going to take some doing.'

  'I know when the islands will reach the closest point to the coast of Macul.'

  'Even so, you're going to need a ship willing to make the trip.'

  'Do you know where I might find one?' Terrel asked, belatedly realizing that a traveller such as Rider might well be a source of useful information.

  'The nearest place would be Tanggula,' the merchant replied, 'but I doubt many of the captains there would want to attempt such a voyage. And how would you pay their passage-fee?'

  'Where is Tanggula?'

  'About forty miles southwest of here. The best route is via Fenia Rybak, but even that's not easy. Have you ever walked that far?' Rider glanced at Terrel's twisted leg.

  'Many times.'

  The merchant nodded, showing little surprise at the boy's claim.

  'Perhaps we could come to some arrangement,' he suggested, 'so that you could ride . . .'

  'I'm not ready to go yet.'

  With that, Terrel left the ale-house, ignoring Bezaki's final attempts to persuade him to stay a little longer. He was feeling a surge of confidence now that he knew where to go when the time came. It was not much, considering the voyage he intended to make - but it was a start.

  The following morning brought another piece of good news. Unseen by all but a few prospectors working in the upper stretches of the river, the gate in the fence opened and two figures were ushered through without ceremony. Talker and Davi had been returned.

  The child's parents claimed him as soon as he reached the village, and for a time would let no one else near him. Talker was as incomprehensible as ever, so it was not until late in the afternoon that Terrel found out what had happened. Frasu came to see him, and grudgingly admitted that he'd been unable to get anything from his son apart from the fact that Davi wanted to see Terrel. When he reached their hut, Erena was reluctant to let the boy out of her arms - as if she feared that Terrel's mere presence would lead to her son being taken away again - but Davi wriggled free. Even then he was reticent, obviously finding it difficult to talk, and Terrel began to wonder if the little boy had been badly treated by the soldiers.

  Eventually, though, Davi confided in him, the child's words spilling out in a rush. Talker, he said, had lost his

  gift. He hadn't been able to heal any of the soldiers or miners, and this upset Davi greatly. Terrel tried to get him to go into more detail, but he clammed up again -and then Frasu made it clear that the interview was over.

  Terrel made his way to the infirmary, where Talker had been installed. He found the blind man kneeling over Cardos's bed, nodding silently over the sleeping patient, and in that moment Terrel knew that Talker's gift had not been lost. Somehow, in the midst of the soldiers and miners who had abandoned him earlier, he had found a way to hide his talent. There was no telling how or why he had done this, but it meant that in some ways Talker was an even more remarkable healer than Terrel himself.

  'Did you talk to Davi?' Aylen asked.

  'Yes,' Terrel replied. 'He didn't say much, though.'

  'Did he hear anything about a possible avalanche?'

  'I don't know.'

  'I had a bit of good luck today,' Aylen remarked, grinning as he changed the subject. He dipped a hand into his pocket and took out a stone about the size of a hen's egg. It had a smooth, almost polished surface, which glowed in swirls of blue, silver-white and violet, with a few tiny sparks of orange glittering within its depths. It was as though a particularly serene moment of sunrise had been frozen in stone, and even to Terrel's largely-untutored eye, it was obvious that it must be both very rare and extremely valuable.

  'Not bad, eh?' Aylen commented, seeing Terre
l's awed expression.

  'It's beautiful.'

  'It's a fire-opal,' Aylen told him grandly. 'I bet the miners would be sick if they knew they'd missed this. It's exactly what I needed. Don't say anything to Gate yet, will you? I want to surprise him.'

  Terrel expected Aylen to reveal his find that evening, but he didn't, and the atmosphere in the hut remained as depressing as ever.

  The next morning, Kerin and Aylen had already gone out when Terrel awoke and, after checking on Ysatel, he made his way to Davi's home. As he approached the hut, Aylen came out, but he strode off before Terrel had a chance to talk to him.

  Despite Terrel's pleading, Davi's parents flatly refused to let the boy resume his partnership with Talker, and Terrel went on to the infirmary. Cardos's condition had improved overnight, and Terrel was in no doubt that this was because of Talker's presence.

  Without his 'eyes', the blind man was effectively confined to one place, and Terrel was determined to try to remedy this. He took Talker with him on his subsequent trip around the village, but the arrangement proved impractical. He did not have Davi's knack as a guide -or as a translator - and no one had any need of Talker if Terrel was there. By midday he had taken the blind man back to the infirmary, having decided to try once more to change Frasu and Erena's minds about allowing their son out of their sight.

  He was on his way to their hut when he met Aylen again.

  'You'll help them, won't you?' Aylen said abruptly.

  'Who?' Terrel asked, taken aback by this unorthodox greeting.

  'Gate and Olandis. They're going to have to forgive each other eventually.'

  'Of course. I'll do anything I can, you know that. But—'

  'Good man,' Aylen cut in. 'I've got to run. No peace for the wicked.' He dashed off, evidently in a hurry. As Terrel watched his fleet-footed progress, he felt clumsy and confused.

  He was not to realize the significance of their brief conversation until that evening, when he returned to the Mirana house to find Kerin sitting alone in the main room. The expression on his face was so desolate that for a moment Terrel thought something had happened to Ysatel, but a glance into the inner room told him that her condition was unchanged.