Ten years ago he would simply have killed the boy and moved on to the next. Now such a simple solution was forbidden and if none of the others proved out, he would have to come back. A nuisance, but no more than that. Should this boy turn out to be the actual target of all these years of searching, then there was no hurry. He and all around him were unaware to the point of being stupid. Safe in this little backwater, he was not going anywhere.
Kulkin smiled to himself. Clan! They were so proud of their past, these farmers. His twin assistants, money and violence, would soon unlock their doors when the time came. And even if the boy moved away, they had the phial of the dog’s blood: with that a sniffer could follow the trail clear across the world.
That afternoon a bald man with pale blue eyes quietly boarded the fast ferry to Suntoren, while everyone’s attention was on the tall swordsman in red and black as he stalked imperiously up the next gangway. The crowd on Misaloren’s quays watched the flamboyant departure with curiosity tinged with relief, exactly as intended.
Chapter 2
At the last the great castle was overthrown. The halls were burned and the towers were cast down and all those within were slain. Still Warherc was troubled, remembering the evil things which had been wrought here. And in his anger the Lord of the Tarsi spake to his consort, "Witch, I command thee. Curse these stones that nevermore shall man set foot upon this hill." Sisme answered him, "That I cannot do, Lord." Again he commanded her, "At the least curse thou this place that never shall dwelling of man rise here again." And again she answered, "That I cannot do, Lord."
Warherc was wroth and questioned her, saying, "Thy power is great. Didst thou not break open the gates of this fortress at my command? Why wilt thou not do this thing for me?"
And Sisme said, " 'Never' is beyond the power of magic, Lord of the Tarsi. In time all things come to pass. In time, when the deeds of this day are long forgotten and the Tarsi are not even a name borne upon the wind, towers will rise again upon this hill, yea, rise and fall also. But hear me, this much I vow to thee. Mirim Shab, I name this place and for a thousand years shall no living man stand upon this ground. And for ten times a thousand years none shall rest here in peace."
When he heard the promise of Sisme, Warherc was afraid. "Strong indeed is thy magic, queen, stronger than I had deemed possible. Surely ten thousand years is a time beyond all the ages of man. And yet I would not that even in some distant age people should dwell unknowing in this hill of Shadow and suffer the taint of its evil. If their return cannot be denied, do thou remove the Shadow. Cleanse the evil from this place and make it new."
"Nay, Lord," answered the witch. "Here was day turned into night, a rent made in the very fabric of the world, which no magic of mine can restore."
And the heart of Warherc was heavy within him. "So this evil which men have made will live on when we the Guardians and all our works have passed away?"
"Indeed, Lord, it will be so," she replied.
Then the Lord of the Tarsi bowed his head, saying, "At the end vain are the toil and dreams of men. By thy words this doom is certain: for our children and for all the generations of them who come after us there is no hope."
And the Lady Sisme laughed, saying, "Hope is greater than magic, my Lord, hope lives for ever. Ten thousand years is but a blink on the eyelid of time and I say again to thee in time all things shall come to pass, yea, even the cleansing of so great an evil. Put aside thy pride and be content. This task is not for thee nor for thy consort. We are not the only Guardians of mankind."
The Spell of Sisme - Collected Legends (Museum of Dirrha, Trintand)
Esparan
The noon ferry was one of the new three-masters, and as the last boat that would go all the way to Hurigell that day, it was crowded despite its size. There was a thriving community at the eastern tip of the Lake. The fishing was good and the farmlands stretched back for many rich miles to the foot of the mountains, so the ferries were constantly busy. The people there were Espars who had come from South Lake hundreds of years ago and tamed the river marshes, turning them into fields of black soil which cut deep and moist, ready to grow almost anything for the markets of Misaloren and the other Easterleng towns.
Hamdrim and the boys saw Randy safely fastened up below, then went up to the open deck and found themselves a spot by the rail. It was still a beautiful day with the sun shining full on Misaloren, when they slowly gathered way and stood out into the bay.
"You were always telling me how tough it was going up to the Rails, Berin," Caldar said, as he sat down with his back against a wooden crate and closed his eyes. "And to think I believed you."
Berin was about to make a tart reply, when Hamdrim laughed and broke in, "Berin didn't get this sort of joyride last year. You should thank your mysterious friend Kulkin for this."
Caldar gritted his teeth as Hamdrim’s words touched the knot of misery and anger locked up inside him. Apart from Berin, Brack had been his best friend, his silent companion on innumerable boyish ventures. The dog had got stiffer and slower these last two years, but to end like that! Kulkin was added to Pilatt in Caldar’s hate list: it was a short list, but his chances of ever exacting a proper revenge from Kulkin were even less than from his half-brother. It didn’t take long to see that, and disgusted at his own impotence he lay down on the deck and slid off to sleep.
When he awoke, the huge main sail hung motionless above his head, a great curve of shadow tapering up and away into a landscape of enormous cloud castles and deep blue rifts. He lay for a while looking up. Without seeming to move, the great sunlit towers were swinging silently round and changing shape. Gradually the gaps of blue sky closed, and he watched the rainstorm build as the clouds grew heavier and darker. It was so comfortable lying there that he never thought of moving, until he heard a quick footstep nearby and turned his head to see Berin grinning down at him. "Come on, dreamer. Help us pull the awnings out or we'll get soaked."
Caldar stretched, yawned and got slowly to his feet. Sleepily he helped Berin untie the canvas tarp furled along the edge of the raised centredeck, which ran the length of the boat. Everywhere along the passenger deck people were rolling the covers out and lashing them to the outer rail with the steady, unhesitating pace of long practice. With the job done the two boys hitched themselves up to sit on a big wooden crate and Caldar, beginning to wake up now, peered through the half-darkness at the people next to them.
He could dimly make out the nearest figure, a large man with a pleasant, weather-beaten face, his eyes shining very white in the gloom as he returned Caldar's scrutiny with a smile. Still smiling, the man turned to reach down behind him and then held something out to the boy. Caldar bent for a closer look in the half-light, but the hand holding a small bag was thrust even more firmly towards him. "Sarpil" the deep voice said quietly. Caldar took one astonished look at his plain-looking neighbour, before stammering his thanks as the wonderful smooth nuts cascaded into his cupped hands.
Sarpil only looked like nuts. In fact they were confections, the speciality of a family called Kafista, who had made them in Misaloren and Suntoren for generations and who kept the art of their making a close secret. And special they were. It wasn't just the thrilling tastes one met, going from layer to layer. It was the astonishing changes in texture, and the way that each soft sweet delight was preceded by a different subtly flavoured hard layer that made one wait and anticipate.
Caldar settled back in his place, still confused. He felt the same passion for Sarpil as everyone else of his age, the stronger for being unrequited. They were extremely expensive, and he'd only had three in his whole life, each on a very special occasion. And here was this man, who looked like an ordinary farmer, offering them by the handful to a stranger sitting next to him on the boat!
He put one in his mouth. Oh, yes! It was a Sarpil all right. He shrugged. He'd see what Berin thought of the mystery. Berin was right beside him, and was as incredulous and delighted as Caldar, when his friend popped one
into his mouth without warning. They were just getting into a whispered exchange of wild ideas of where the Sarpil had come from, when the rain came down with a roar on the tarps just over their heads. They gave up and settled back on their crate to watch, sucking blissfully.
After half an hour the great drumming overhead suddenly quietened to a gentle patter; the cataracts of the run-off became trickles and finally long strings of beaded drips that began to shine in the hazy growing light. Within minutes the tarps were steaming in brilliant sunshine, as the last misty pillars of rain trailed off to the north behind the brooding shadow of the storm-centre.
As the light came flooding back the end of the Lake lay revealed ahead of them, the flat southern shore visible now as it curved round to meet the rivermouth and the rich farmland of East End at Hurigell.
Caldar was disappointed that there was so little to see. He had half expected that the mountains would be there, right in front of them. But no, nothing but haze and vague distant shapes of hill or cloud. Suddenly he became aware of something brushing his left hip and an instant later a very careful hand slid into his pocket. He took a casual look up at the sky, then without warning clamped both his hands down on the wrist that desperately tried to pull away from his side. He swung round with a ferocious scowl and the word ‘thief’ ready on his tongue, knowing it was Berin after another Sarpil. Then all in one confused moment he realised that the person standing three paces away by the rail was Berin, and the top of the bowed fair head right behind him was certainly not his friend's. Out of sheer surprise he let go and took half a step away.
"Pig" hissed the bowed head. "Lousy . .”
Whatever else was coming was left unsaid. The small figure whipped round, plunged past a group of large women talking animatedly on the foredeck and vanished round the corner. Caldar leaped in pursuit; a stocky sailor carrying a huge coil of rope got in his way and by the time he reached the angle made by the centredeck, there was no sign of his quarry. Berin was beside him by now, full of questions: so he explained without stopping, as he threaded a way along the crowded side deck, glancing everywhere, trying to match the glimpse of fair hair and a brown jerkin to the figures around. For the next hour they went round the whole ship, passing Hamdrim deep in conversation with a number of men in the stern and Randy standing patiently in his stall below. They even sneaked a look into the lower cargo deck; but it was half empty and very dark, and they quickly gave up and went back up to the daylight.
When they made their way back to the bows, they could see they were getting near their destination. Directly ahead towered the rocky knoll that marked the rivermouth and very soon they were swinging around its foot into the huge circular pool that formed the harbour of Hurigell.
"Quick passage today lads," said Hamdrim's voice behind them. They both turned and began to speak at once "Ham . . ." They stopped. "Go on," Berin said, "it was you got them."
"There was a man next to me on the side deck," Caldar dropped his voice to a whisper, "and just before the rain storm, he gave me a whole handful of Sarpil".
"Sarpil!" It was clear from his face that Caldar's reputation inclined Hamdrim to treat the story as a joke. But the youth's excitement was transparently genuine and when he pulled one of the nuts from his pocket as proof, Hamdrim’s expression altered to one of total surprise.
Vindicated, Caldar went on with a rush, "He didn't say anything, just gave them to me. And then later on, when we were up here having a look around, someone tried to pick my pocket."
"After the Sarpil?" asked Hamdrim.
"I don't know," Caldar replied. "We never caught him. A small lad in a brown jerkin. We've been all over the ship and we couldn't find any trace of him."
“Well, you can watch for him while I get Randy off. You might spot him. Won't be easy: there's three gangplanks and they'll be busy. But when I wave from the dock you'll have to come ashore.”
While they were talking, the ferry had drifted quietly across the harbour towards the town. The experienced crew let the slow river current take the way off her and laid her gently alongside the main wharf. The gangplanks clattered over and became instantly alive with hurrying figures. The boys concentrated hard, but twenty minutes later when Hamdrim shouted to them from the shore, neither of them had spotted Caldar's pickpocket.
"You were right, Ham," Caldar said ruefully, as they walked up to him, "we must have missed him in all that crowd."
"No matter. Come on lads, let's get started. We've a way to walk yet tonight."
"Where to?" Berin asked. "You haven't said anything about this friend of Taccen's."
"Well, you haven't asked, have you? Too busy sucking Sarpil."
Hamdrim led them past the warehouses and on through the neat streets of Hurigell onto the grassy riverbank. It was easy walking, with field after field of crops on their left and the broad sweep of the river slipping slowly by on the other side. Even at this hour there was traffic, heavily laden boats drifting down towards the harbour in the gathering dusk.
"We're staying tonight with Taccen's friend Kirpar," Hamdrim told them when they were clear of the town. "Tomorrow night as well: there's a special feast. We'll meet the mules at the river camp the night after that." Winking at his brother over Caldar's head, he went on, "Berin’s still trying to work out how you do it, Caldar. Most of the way by boat, someone to carry your gear," he nodded at the mule, "and a pocketful of Sarpil. Anyway, who was this man on the ferry. A rich prince or a mad magician?"
"Rats! I forgot to look out for him getting off," Caldar replied, clearly annoyed with himself. "He looked like an ordinary farmer, but he can't have been, giving Sarpil away, can he? D’you think he was mad?"
"Could be, though I think you’re just on a run of luck right now," Hamdrim answered cheerfully. " Look, you see that rocky hill ahead on the left? That's close to Kirpar's farm. If we step out, we'll just make it before dark. And keep those Sarpil out of sight; they’re a temptation to the most honest man alive."
The light was fading fast by the time they turned away from the river towards the unseen farm. The boys were feeling tired now, trudging along trying not to lose sight of the pair in front. They plodded on over a small rise and all at once there was a huddle of lights below them. They almost bumped into Randy, where he and Hamdrim stood waiting for them.
"Nearly there, lads. Supper in ten minutes." Hamdrim's voice in the gloom was all that was needed. With a different stride they followed the curving track in towards the buildings, the lighted windows and the bustle that meant food and bed.
They were soon standing shyly in the corner of a vast kitchen, while Hamdrim exchanged greetings with the dozen or so folk they'd found inside. Dominating them all was a huge lady, with commanding brown eyes and the dark brown skin of South Lake. She was working at the enormous cooking range which ran right along one wall. At the sound of Hamdrim's voice she spun quickly, gigantic ladle in hand, and beckoned him with an imperious toss of her black hair. The room fell silent as he went over with apparent reluctance, kissed her daintily on the proffered cheek and stepped back. Then as the boys watched in amazement, they both broke into enormous smiles and embraced warmly, until to cheers from the others he lifted her high off the floor.
"There's a proper man for you" she cried, shaking with laughter. Turning to the other grinning men at the table she added, "Is it any wonder all the ladies of East End pine away between his visits, eh? None of you beanpoles is much good to us."
"You don't give us enough to eat, Matti. A bit more food and you never know what might happen," one of the smiling farmhands baited her.
"It’d take more than food to make you more exciting, Gilran," she threw over her shoulder, as she turned back to the stove. "Or so I hear from all the Hurigell girls.”
Everyone laughed, including the good-looking Gilran who threw up his hands in defeat. Matti swung round again, and to their embarrassment turned her full attention onto the boys.
"Who's this then? Two more lady-killer
s from down the Lake? Bit young yet, eh lads?" she said, seeing them blush, "But given a little time ….."
"And your cooking" Hamdrim broke in.
"Enough of your chat, Ham, you'll get supper. We eat in an hour; but if the lads don’t want to wait, they can sit down to it now, then be off to bed whenever they like."
They sat down, and after a rich stew with big slices of bread, butter and jam to follow, they leaned back full and happy in a corner of the warm kitchen. By now they felt part of the bustle all around them. Three other women were helping with the cooking too, making heaps of little cakes and pastry cases, an unbelievable number it seemed until they remembered what Hamdrim had said about a feast. Men were coming in and out all the time, but gradually the room was filling up.
Hamdrim had gone off to see Randy stabled, and now he came back to find Berin fast asleep and Caldar's curiosity fighting a losing battle to keep him awake.
"Come on," he said, shaking Berin awake. "I’ll show you your bunks.”
Amid a chorus of 'good-night' from the crowded kitchen, they shuffled out across the half-lit yard to a bunkhouse. Snuggling down into his blankets, Caldar stayed awake exulting in the events of the day, his first birthday away from home and the start, he was sure, of a new life of freedom. Nearby Berin dreamed of a dark-eyed girl with flowers in her hair, who gave him one thrilling kiss and then drifted forever out of reach.
**
Caldar awoke to the murmur of nearby voices. He lifted his head from the pillow just far enough to make out some figures standing round a lantern further down the bunkhouse; but it was cold and uninviting out of bed, so his curiosity quickly faded and he burrowed back down into the warmth, hoping drowsily that they’d leave him alone. When he woke again a long time later, there was daylight coming in from the small windows and a steady soft patter of rain on the roof. He leant over the side of the bunk and found himself six feet off the floor, looking along double rows of empty beds. He rolled over to look the other way and there was Berin's dark hair protruding from a huddle of blankets on the next high bunk. 'Well, I'm not the last up,' he thought and lay back with a contented sigh, relishing his freedom while others were milking and mucking out and mending fences.
The Tears of Sisme Page 4
