by Lee Duigon
“You must have a very peaceful life, as a hermit,” Ellayne said. “What made you decide to be one?”
“I told you. I missed God.” Obst moved his stool closer to the fire and perched on it. It didn’t wobble. “You’re too young to have felt as I felt. I was a young man then, in the service of the Temple. I used to dream that I might become First Prester one day, by the time I was an old man. Now I’d rather be as I am.”
He told a story that Jack thought much too long and very hard to follow. But his interest perked up suddenly when Obst stood up and laid his hand on something on one of his shelves.
“Do you know what this is?” he said, as the rain dripped off the leaves around the windows. “This is the very Book of Scripture that I took from the presters’ library the day I left the Temple. This is my reason for being in this place. It is my whole reason for being.
“You might say I stole it. That would be true, up to a point. But they certainly weren’t making any use of it in the library, and I doubt they ever missed it.”
“Please, sir—read us some of it!” Jack said.
Obst looked surprised. “What’s this? A boy who knows the Scripture?”
“Oh, I don’t know it at all,” Jack said. “But I would dearly like to hear it. I’ve always wondered what the Scriptures were really like. The prester at our chamber house never read to us from the Old Books. I had a teacher who said I was too young for it.”
“I’m surprised you know the Old Books exist,” the hermit said. “Very well, I’ll read you some.”
He sat down with the heavy book on his lap, and opened it carefully. A musty smell crept into the room. He handled the reed-paper pages delicately.
“Su spakis Miklen Gotte, Ye schell niht maachen ayn hoos yff braas, butt Ih woll brayken ytt mauger syne coop,” he read, and a good deal more. Jack thought, no wonder Ashrof said I wasn’t ready for it. He didn’t understand a word. And yet if he closed his eyes and just listened, without trying to make sense of it, he was sure he almost understood it. Understanding lay just out of reach.
Reading the verses aloud did something strange to Obst. He seemed to forget Jack and Ellayne were there. His eyes focused on something that they couldn’t see, and he talked to himself—certainly not to them.
“I have seen the gathering of God’s wrath,” he said. “Winter is colder, and lasts longer. Uncouth beasts walk the earth, and lawless men multiply their numbers; and no crime is too foul for them because they know the end is near.
“The Temple is a house of whoredoms, and the presters think only of filling its treasuries with silver and gold. Do they think that will save them? Will God spare them for their robes of office? They wear white ermine, but their hearts are black with filthiness! Will they stand, when the bell is rung and all else is brought low?”
“The bell!” cried Ellayne.
Obst startled like a man rudely awakened from a light sleep. He stared at her.
“The bell on Bell Mountain—is that the one you mean?” she said. “But that’s where we’re going!”
Jack could have stuffed a mittful of ferns into her mouth, if only he’d been sitting next to her. He gritted his teeth and scowled at her, but she didn’t look at him. Why wouldn’t she shut up?
“You shouldn’t have told him!” he said.
Ellayne’s mouth popped open, but no more words popped out.
“Wait—don’t fight!” Obst said. He closed the book with great care and returned it to the shelf. “You have nothing to fear from me, children. You can be sure I always knew you weren’t wandering around these parts for any ordinary reason.
“Now that you’ve let it slip out, why not tell me everything? I’ve done nothing all my life, since I left the Temple, but study the Scripture. Who better to advise you? It’s raining, you can’t travel—you might as well trust me. For I believe God Himself brought you here to me. You won’t meet anyone else in all the land who’ll say that to you.”
Ellayne, whose face had gone quite pale, looked pleadingly to Jack.
“Please, Jack, let’s tell him!” she said. “Hermits are holy men. He won’t hurt us.”
And where did you learn so much about hermits? snarled Jack, inwardly. In those daft books of yours, I guess! But we’re not in a book. We’re here in this man’s house, and he’s half mad.
“I can at least tell you where the outlaws are, and how to avoid them,” Obst said.
“If you know where they are, then they must know where you are—and they’ve done no harm to you,” Jack said. “Why should that be, unless you’re one of them?”
Obst smiled. “Look around, child. Do I have anything worth stealing? Besides, some of them come to me when they’re sick or hurt. I have the gift of healing. They have no reason to hurt me. And the Most High protects me, even as He has protected you, so far.
“But if you wish to tell me no more about yourselves, so be it. Leave whenever you please. I’ll do you no harm, and help you all I can.”
Jack looked him over, as if a lie might break out like a rash on his skin. He wished he knew where Wytt was. He wished he knew whether to trust this man. Who else could tell them what it said in Scripture?
“All right,” he said. “Tell us first about the beasts. And then we’ll tell you about the bell.”
CHAPTER 18
“It Was in My Heart to Slay You”
In the tales of Abombalbap, hermits were always wise and good, true holy men. A few of them could even make miracles. That was why Ellayne wanted badly to tell Obst everything, and was so happy when Jack finally agreed.
But as Jack began to speak of his dreams, and how the mountain sang to him, the rain came down a little harder, and the room inside the cabin became a little darker. Ellayne found herself thinking that maybe they shouldn’t have trusted this hermit after all. He looked like he was intently listening to every word Jack said; but when you looked again, you could see it was more like he was listening to something else that you couldn’t hear. Jack noticed it and stopped talking; but Obst didn’t stop listening.
“Master hermit—are you all right?” Ellayne asked, after several long moments of silence.
His lips moved. Jack got up and came a few steps closer to him.
“I think he’s reciting Scripture,” he told Ellayne. “But it’s in the language of the Old Books. I can’t understand what he’s saying.”
“I wonder if there’s something wrong with him,” Ellayne said.
Jack did an odd thing then. He picked up the hermit’s axe and tossed it out the window. Obst didn’t seem to notice.
“What’d you do that for?”
“I wish I had some rope,” Jack said. “I’d tie him up. I think he might be about to go mad.”
“Well, then—maybe we’d better leave before he does.”
At that moment Wytt jumped onto the window ledge where the axe had just gone out. He startled the children, making them flinch. He stood there, looking in, and chattered loudly at them. Obst heard that. He turned on his stool to see him, stared at Wytt and sighed.
“And the hairy ones shall inherit all those cities,” he recited. Rising, he went to the hearth and got a ladleful of stew and held it out toward Wytt, making squirrel noises at him. Wytt hopped onto the floor, boldly approaching the hermit. Obst lowered the ladle. Wytt dipped his fingers into the stew and licked them. Obst stood still so he could eat, and turned to smile at Jack. It wasn’t a mad smile at all.
“So you’ve made a friend, eh? One of the Omah,” he said. “Very, very good! I wish you’d told me—although I might not have believed you.”
“I was coming to it,” Jack said. “But then you drifted off and started talking to yourself in Scripture. You weren’t listening to anything we said.”
“We thought something bad might’ve happened to you,” Ellayne said.
“Not bad,” Obst answered. Wytt went on eating stew. “Sometimes I’ll be praying or meditating in the morning, and the next thing I know, night has
fallen, and I’m stiff and hungry. It’s something God does, when you’re close to Him.”
Wytt finished his meal. Obst straightened his back and stretched, and Wytt hopped over to sit on Ellayne’s lap.
“Just so you understand me,” Obst said, “I have a confession to make to you.
“It was in my heart to slay you—to stop you from climbing the mountain and ringing the bell. I, who have sought God all my life, was afraid. I was desperately afraid. All my years of prayer and study, and obedience—they were as nothing. All swallowed up in fear! And that was when I stopped hearing you.”
Ellayne’s heart did a flutter, and she saw Jack glance at the corner where the axe had rested.
Obst held up a hand. “I’m not telling you this to scare you!” he said. “God took away my fear. I couldn’t hear you, couldn’t see you, because God took me away for a little time and changed my heart. And now I understand what He wishes me to do.
“If you’ll have me, I’ll come with you. The forest is my home; I’ll be a good guide. I’ll help you every step of the way—even to the top of the mountain, if we get that far, as I believe you will, whether I do or not.”
Ellayne knew Jack had the big knife under the blanket he was sitting on. He kept his right hand very close to it.
“And what happens to us if you change your mind again?” he said.
“If I were planning to harm you, I wouldn’t put you on your guard against me, would I?” Obst said. “I think we ought to leave tomorrow and stay within the forest all the way to the skirts of Bell Mountain. We won’t have to spend much time in open country. With me to guide you, and decent weather, we can be there in two or three weeks. But maybe you ought to discuss it between yourselves. I’ll go out and get us some fresh water from the spring.”
He took up a big clay jar and went out the door, leaving it ajar.
“Let’s get out of here before he comes back,” Jack said.
“But Jack—he knows the way.”
“He’s crazy.”
He started gathering up their things, and Ellayne had to help him. They made fast work of it, loaded the donkey, and led him off through the woods, trying to find the way back to the plain.
But they couldn’t find it. Jack thought he knew how to find his way around in the woods because he played in the woods at home in Ninneburky. Now he realized that experience didn’t count. Those were only little wooded patches, after all: walk ten minutes in any direction, and you were out.
He tried to lead the way, but he didn’t remember anything about the paths they’d followed to get to Obst’s cabin or the trees they’d passed. Everything looked different in the afternoon, and it was still raining, too.
“This is awful!” Ellayne cried. “Where are we going?”
“Away from Obst, as far as we can,” Jack said. At least it was true.
They were on a path and had to follow wherever it led. Sometimes it narrowed, and they were brushed by rain-soaked underbrush. Their clothes got soggy. The donkey came along quietly enough, and Wytt raced ahead of them, occasionally whistling.
Then, suddenly, the donkey dug his hooves in, and Jack had a fall. He kept his hold on the lead and scrambled back up.
The poor little ass had his ears laid back and the whites of his eyes showing and his teeth. Jack felt his own hair stand on end. Ellayne clung to the donkey’s pack.
“Steady, boy, steady!” Jack tried to soothe the donkey. If he really did bolt, Jack doubted they could hold him. And if he ran away with all their things …
The donkey drew back his lips and groaned.
Ahead of them, a patch of tall ferns waved back and forth, and they heard footfalls.
The ferns parted, and out came something that froze Jack’s mind.
It was an animal, a big one, much, much bigger than a man, bigger even than a horse, though not so tall. It was brown, mostly, with a long, straight tail of a lighter shade of brown, and vivid black and white stripes up and down its flanks. Its head was something like the head of a dog with rounded ears. But it couldn’t possibly be a dog because of what it carried in its jaws—the head, neck, shoulder, and foreleg of a knuckle-bear, with the long leg and curved claws dragging on the ground. The huge trophy was held in those jaws as easily as the carcass of a pheasant in the jaws of a big hunting dog. How wide those jaws gaped to hold it! The knuckle-bear’s heavy, horse-like head lolled, but didn’t touch the ground.
The beast paused for a moment to study them with a pair of yellow eyes, then crossed the path and disappeared into the high ferns on the other side. Jack and Ellayne waited for a long time in the rain, but it didn’t come back.
It was Ellayne who found her voice first, and she got Jack’s attention by hitting him on the shoulder with her fist.
“I don’t care how crazy Obst is!” she said. “We’ve got to go back. We’re soaking wet, it’ll be night soon, and if you think we ought to stay out here all night, you’re crazier than he is!”
Jack fended off another blow. “All right, you’re right—stop hitting me!” he said. “We’ll turn right around and go back.”
The donkey trembled, huffing and puffing; but he didn’t resist when they turned him, and didn’t at all mind going back. He was an awfully good donkey, Jack thought, and petted his wet, furry neck. Van’s ox would’ve just bolted and never come back.
“Faster, Jack!” Ellayne said.
“I’m going as fast as I can.”
He didn’t know if they could find their way back to Obst’s cabin. If they came to a fork in the path, he wouldn’t know which way to go.
They didn’t talk, but put all their efforts into going as fast as they dared. With the trees overhead coming into leaf, and the rain coming down, and the sky completely overcast, Jack had no idea how much time they had before night fell.
“We’ll be lucky if we don’t get sick,” Ellayne said.
Up ahead, Wytt uttered a series of sharp little barks and piercing whistles. A moment later they saw him with the hermit following after. Obst wore a kind of cloak made of straw and a fur cap on his head.
“Ah—there you are,” he said.
Ellayne ran a few steps toward him, but stopped short. “Master Obst, we’re sorry we ran away. We were afraid of you,” she said.
“It’s all right,” he said.
“We saw a horrible animal!”
“You’d better come back with me and get warm,” the hermit said. He smiled, looking better when he smiled. “In truth, you didn’t get very far. And you’re safe.” He looked at Jack. “Are you ready to come back to my house?”
Jack felt like he’d lost a fight. He nodded. “I reckon we are,” he said.
“I have a kind of tea made from blackberry leaves,” Obst said. “It’ll do you good. And you need to sit by the fire. Come.”
He led them up the path. Jack wished they didn’t have to go with him, but they had no choice.
CHAPTER 19
The Assassin and the Thieves
Having ridden through the rain all day, the next morning found Martis not far from Lintum Forest. Once he reached it, he could begin his hunt for the missing children.
But he turned aside that morning to investigate the behavior of some birds—buzzards, he thought—descending on something that lay out of his sight to the east. Anything sizeable that died on the plain, he thought, might turn out to be one or both of the children. In that case his journey would be over.
As he expected, he found buzzards and crows feeding on a carcass. There was another bird, too, as big as a stork, if not bigger, tearing at the corpse with a heavy hooked beak that reminded Martis of a turtle’s jaws. This bird glared at him as he rode up, then turned and ran off at a speed any horse would be hard put to match.
Martis whooped and waved his hat, driving off the crows and buzzards. Now he could see what they’d been picking at.
It was all that was left of a man, and not much: no face, no hands. But from the condition of the dead man’s clot
hes, he could not have been lying there for more than a few days. Scavengers had begun to tear away the clothing, but hadn’t finished.
The smell made Martis’ horse fidgety. He kept the animal under control.
He wondered what there was out here that could kill a man. He’d seen no dangerous animals. When a man lay dead and unburied, the reason usually was another man; but Martis hadn’t seen another human being since leaving Ninneburky. There were outlaws in the forest, but what would bring them out onto the plain?
“Easy, there—easy,” Martis whispered to his horse, as he dismounted. Holding the reins, he looked for tracks. What with all the rain yesterday and the plethora of bird prints, he couldn’t find any.
There were clerics who would have at least blessed the corpse before moving on, but Martis wasn’t one of them. He’d been with Lord Reesh too long to believe in blessings.
He rode only a little farther to the south when two men in buckskin stepped out from behind a stand of birches.
“Stop right there, you!”
The one held up his arms. The other carried a bow with an arrow on the string. He wasn’t ready to shoot, and that was his undoing.
Martis plucked a sharp skewer from his cloak, and before the other man could pull his bowstring, the skewer thunked into his chest. He gave a loud cry, dropped his weapons, fumbled at the skewer without being able to get hold of it, and then pitched forward onto his face. The second man stared at him. He had a knife in one hand and a cudgel in the other, but seemed to have forgotten them for the moment.
“Drop your weapons and stand still,” Martis said, “or I’ll ride you down and bash out your brains.” Under his cloak he had a mace hooked to his belt. It had an iron head with four sharp flanges, and now Martis brandished it in his hand. The man in buckskin took one look at it and obeyed.
“That makes two bodies lying dead on this uninhabited ground,” Martis said. “I suppose you and your friend murdered the other fellow whom I found about a mile north of here. Robbed him, did you? As no doubt you hoped to rob me.”
