The Tears of Sisme

by Peter Hutchinson

  A good-natured pair, she thought, looking at the boys. Fast friends too. Once they had got into the rhythm of handling the churns, they had worked well. She'd be able to give Remya a rest in the afternoons the way they were coming on. Except that the lads themselves were ready for a change. She could sense the growing impatience, little erratic signs in the even tempo of their work. The steady monotony of the cheese and butter making was better suited to the old folk like Remya and Lasdo, who had gravitated to it naturally when the rougher jobs at the Rails became too much for them.

  Berin smiled at her shyly. People in Rimberford thought him something of a scholar, but he had handled the biggest churn with ease whenever she called on him - there was strength in his thin frame. He was growing fast, all big hands and feet and ears held together by string. She wondered how he saw her, his future sister-in-law. Fat and bossy? Maybe, but he liked her too, she could tell.

  And Caldar. An interesting lad. Open and straightforward on the surface, yet with a deep reserve she could sense at times. He obviously had an easy time of it on Taccen's farm - his hands had blistered badly in the first few days. But his spirit had surprised her. There was no give in him: every morning he would insist on taking his turn until the blood was seeping through his bandages. She had had to force him to stop and give his hands time to heal.

  "Here." Hamdrim placed a large bowl of soup in front of her. "It's beans and onion."

  "Again," Dexis groaned in mock dismay.

  "And some of your own bread."

  "That's better then. Now," she pointed her spoon at Hamdrim, "the Sarpil. Out with it. It's time to tell all."

  She laughed merrily into the sudden stillness, her plain face transformed by an impish smile and teasing eyes.

  "Oh come on. What is this? A secret society?" She dipped her bread in the soup as she looked around the table. "Well, it's a poor one. I know. Remya knows. Heaven knows who else. Caldar's got a stash of Sarpil in his pack and he counts them and mutters to Berin about them every day. You should keep your voices down, lads. We women are much better snoopers than you realise."

  "It's not really a secret," Caldar began slowly. "It's just... I mean …."

  "You mean you nicked them?" Dexis asked with mock disapproval.

  "No, I just don't know why I've got them." Dexis' eyebrows rose questioningly above a mouthful of hot soup.

  "And Ham does," Berin added, raising the fair eyebrows even further.

  "Alright, alright." Hamdrim held up both hands placatingly. "You've got me cornered and I suppose I've put you off enough times already. You'd better tell Dexis how it started, Caldar."

  Once Caldar had explained the origin of his treasure, Hamdrim took up the tale. "Well, for a start it was Tariska that made those Sarpil."

  His audience were startled into total immobility. "Hard to believe, isn't it? Apparently while she was at Long School in Misaloren, the last two years, she lodged with a Kafista family, who are distant relatives of Kirpar's. They grew so fond of her they broke their own rules and showed her how to make Sarpil. She was very painstaking about it and it took every minute of her spare time day and night for a year before she’d made a dozen that were just right. Kirpar told me all this, by the way. They were her coming of age gift to her father when he went to collect her in Misaloren."

  "Kirpar gave them all to me," Caldar said in a low voice. "All. I just don't understand, Ham. Sarpil are incredibly expensive anyway, but these . . . Why these? She’d be so hurt if she knew."

  "I warned you this might take some explaining. Kirpar said it's an old custom that died out some time ago; even people his age barely remember it. Many people don't bother with a Minzin Dakha at all now, and coming of age gifts to one's parents are mostly something small or a poem saying 'thank you'. Kirpar realised that Tikka had given him a special gift, a year of her life if you like, and he was extraordinarily moved by what she’d done. Somehow it reminded him of the old custom of giving the gift away to a stranger.

  Then on the ferry it suddenly came to him that he really should give them away, that it would be right for everyone, for Tikka, for himself, and for the stranger. The impulse to do it was so strong it just swept away his doubts and his wish to hold on to them. Interesting that it was you sitting next to him, wasn't it? Maybe you're going to have a very lucky life, Caldar."

  "Oh Ham!" Dexis’ voice was low. "What a story! Poor lass, why....."

  "I've just realised," Caldar broke in, giving his companions a stricken look, "it was Tikka on the boat. The pickpocket. She was trying to get the Sarpil back. It's....it's just awful. She must…."

  "No, Caldar.” Hamdrim interrupted firmly. “They're yours now to do what you want with. The one thing you can't do is give them back. Tikka said she was heartbroken at first, furious too. But she talked it through with Kirpar. She understands now and she's free of it. She was quite amused too at the feast that you didn't know you'd met her twice before. 'On boats' she said."

  Caldar passed quickly from contrition to irritation. 'Amused' was she? And she 'understood' about giving away the Sarpil and he didn't? He caught his expanding little bubble of fury, somewhat surprised at his own reactions. What was it that stung so much in having a bit of fun directed at him?

  He shrugged and said stiffly, "I still don’t like it. They're so valuable and I shouldn't have them at all really."

  "Well, I am your best friend," Berin said, matching Caldar’s serious tone. "I don't like to see you in this difficult situation and I really must help you. Give them to me."

  Caldar was almost fooled for a moment, then he saw the smile begin in Berin's eyes and spread into a wide toothy grin.

  "You sneaky mule's turd." Caldar's line in swear words was agricultural. "You're the last person I'll give them to. Anyway you've eaten one too, you should be feeling as guilty as I do."

  "Boys, boys! Don't squabble and spoil it all," Dexis said laughing. "How about giving them a change, Ham? Before Caldar starts putting tadpoles in the butter. I've noticed a strange look in his eye recently, whenever the sun's shining outside."

  "Your boss seems pleased with you," Hamdrim commented, frowning at this reminder of Caldar’s potential for mischief. "So I suppose you've earned a break. I'll send you up to Far End with Tresmar. He's due down soon and you can go back with him. He'll find you something to do up there."

  The prospect was enough to keep the boys working happily, until one evening Hamdrim brought over a stocky man, going grey, with powerful shoulders and a cheerful brown face.

  "This is Tresmar, lads. Berin, my brother. Caldar, Taccen's youngest. Tresmar's agreed to take you up to the Far End with him the day after tomorrow. Maybe he’ll let you do some crystal-hunting, best place in the valley for them. Now listen, I'm not saying don't explore. That's why you're going. But the mountains are a completely different world to what's down here. There really are avalanches, lightning, rockfalls, bears, even wolves this year I've heard."

  He looked at Tresmar who nodded and said, "Yes, first time in twenty five years of coming up here. In fact I don't know a man living who's ever seen them in this valley, though we've all heard the old tales. There's no stock missing yet as far as we know."

  Hamdrim turned a little grimly back to the boys. "So you see. All these things, which are just stories at home, you might actually meet at Far End. Do what Tresmar tells you. And if he says don't, don't. Experience can come at a high price in the mountains."

  He glared at Caldar who was nodding in agreement with a blank look on his face. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?” Then he grinned. "Lazalis would have my hide for a hearthrug if you got eaten by a wolf, Caldar, so take care for my sake.”

  The following morning, after Caldar had carefully given his Sarpil into Hamdrim’s safekeeping, they left before dawn with the wagons delivering supplies and empty churns to the milking sheds up the valley. The wagons were very big affairs each drawn by four large horses. There was plenty of room for the boys to sit u
p in front with the driver of the second one, but the ride was not the pleasure they had expected.

  After a couple of hours they could stand the bump and bang of the unladen wagon no longer and decided to walk. Progress was slow and they strolled happily along behind until they rounded the end of a narrow lake to the sixth and last milking station in mid-afternoon. There was no one about and as the thunder and dust of the wagons died away, only the rush of a nearby stream broke the silence.

  "Set your packs down, lads,” Tresmar said as he stretched his stiff muscles, “then get those supply sacks off for me."

  Tresmar smiled at the boys’ obvious dismay when he pointed to two bulky sacks on the first wagon, but he made no comment as he went into the nearest shed and emerged with a saddle. His piercing whistle summoned a beautiful grey horse from nowhere, which stood patiently as it was loaded. Then a quick goodbye to the wagon drivers and they were off.

  From here on the trail was narrow and wound between steep tree clad hillocks, altogether wilder country than the broad sunny pastures they had travelled through all day. A couple of hours on they skirted a small deep lake and forded the roaring torrent which fed it. From this point the path climbed a steep escarpment and deposited them on a broad grassy bench about a mile deep, backed by the high rocky ridge which closed in this end of the Rails.

  "Welcome to Far End." Tresmar stopped and waited for them as they came over the rim of the bench. "Seems a long way from the farmhouse, doesn't it?"

  Caldar turned and saw the whole length of the valley below, as unfamiliar from this view as at his first sight of it weeks before.

  "The best place for crystals is up the Lanfang, that valley over there on the north side. I came across some rose-coloured beauties up there last year. I'll get someone to take you up next time we go that way. Now, see that knoll about a quarter of a mile ahead, with a couple of pine trees? The cabin's there. Good timing: someone's just lit the fire."

  'Someone' proved to be a slim young man with gleaming black eyes, dark skin and a cap of tightly curled black hair. He was entering the hut with two large pails of water slung from a yoke across his shoulders, when the travellers came up. He came out again to meet them, greeting the boys with a flashing smile and lifting the heavy sacks easily off Tresmar's horse.

  "Rasscu. Rasscu the Rogue." Tresmar smiled as he introduced the herdsman, making it clear that he was a likeable rogue. "Comes from that awful desert country south of East Lake. I guess they got rid of him and told him never to come back. He spends his summers up here and the rest of the year chasing girls all over Easterleng. You cooking tonight, Rasscu? Good. You lads are lucky. There's four of us up here and the best cook's making supper tonight."

  The grey mare was turned out into the little fenced paddock behind the knoll, where six other horses were already grazing. The cabin was simple, timber with a sod roof. The door opened into a central area which served as kitchen and dining room, and at each end was a small room with four bunks. It was cooling down quickly as the evening closed in, but the fire kept the room warm and the boys soon became drowsy. Caldar came awake with a start and raised his head from the table, when he heard the word 'wolves'. There was another man in the room now, taller and older than Rasscu, his long sharp features accentuated by the lamplight. He was speaking to Tresmar with Rasscu listening from the stove.

  "Hard to tell where the sound's coming from. You know how it echoes. We were about three miles up on the west side when we heard them. Some distance off, well above the cattle I reckon. About the same as last time."

  "Where's Bittin?" questioned Tresmar.

  "He's staying up there tonight to watch and listen. He'll come back down at first light."

  "We'll wait for him then, before deciding anything. I hate to bring the cattle down from the high grazing if we don't have to. The valley pastures could do with another two or three weeks to recover." Tresmar turned to the boys, who were both sitting up, wide awake now. "Looks like you've come at an exciting time." He smiled, but his eyes were worried.

  It was still dark in the bunkroom when the boys woke to noises from the kitchen: the clatter of pots, the thump of heavy water pails, the creak of shutters. They luxuriated in the sound of someone else working, until the call 'breakfast' brought them hastily to their feet. They found the four men already seated at the table, eating and starting to discuss the day.

  "Porridge on the stove." Rasscu pointed, then turned back to join the conversation.

  "So there's nothing to worry about just yet." This was a new face talking; Bittin, the boys presumed. "The cattle aren't disturbed at all. They must be quite a way off, you know, right up one of those passes above the glacier."

  "So long as they stay there." Tresmar shrugged. "Well, we don't have any choice. We'll have to patrol the upper part of Lanfang for the next few weeks. Dol, you go back up with Rass this morning. Ride round the cattle and let him scout for wolf tracks higher up. Rass, you stay up there tonight, and if you get the chance, bring us back a galtzik tomorrow. It'll make a nice change from rabbit. Bittin and I’ll cover the rest of the cattle today and I'll come up Lanfang tomorrow and relieve you."

  "At the bivouac?" asked Rasscu.

  "Yes, around noon at the latest." Tresmar paused. The others were all looking down at the table. "I suppose it's my turn to cook." The table-studiers began to smile. "Alright I get the message. But I warn you, I'll be looking for some special delicacies all day: Bear's Paw fungus or Sweet Gentians. Must give the visitors a treat."

  The others groaned theatrically.

  "We all turned yellow for a week last time Tresmar did a 'special'," Bittin explained to the boys.

  "Better come with me," Rasscu offered. "You'd be safer on the glacier."

  "The lads are not going anywhere near the glacier.” Tresmar’s voice was emphatic. “You can take them up Lanfang with you to look around for crystals. But they‘re your responsibility, Dol, and they come back down with you tonight. Alright?"

  Everyone nodded and started to get ready. Half an hour later the boys were walking behind the two herdsmen, who ambled slowly ahead on horseback. A mile north of the cabin the level bench narrowed and petered out. The craggy wall on their right curved in as if to shoulder them off the steep drop on their left, until it seemed they could go no further. At this point a narrow trail arced off horizontally across the face of the mountain, making a subtle yet easy route which led them around the corner into the Langfang high above the torrent.

  An hour into the valley Doldivar stopped them.

  "This is far enough. I need to drop down to the river here. If you head up east of the glacier, Rass, just as you come level with the first ice opposite Thunderhead, I reckon that's where I heard the foul things, somewhere on those slopes or in one of the passes either side of the peak. Take care." The young hunter lifted a graceful hand, gave the boys a wink and a brilliant smile, and walked his horse off into the trees.

  Doldivar looked after him a moment. "Waste of breath telling him to take care. That’s a hard man behind that smile.”

  Caldar stared after the receding figure in surprise. “I thought you liked him.”

  “Oh, don’t get me wrong, lad, he’s a good partner. No one I’d rather have beside me working up here. But something’s riding him. He takes risks like he just doesn’t care, and he’s a killer in a fight. Saw him take out three big drovers in Peplis last year, quick as lightning. He’d already half killed them before we had time to pull him off. But he’s a good friend and he knows cattle and he knows the country up here better than I do. Strange for a desert rat; only his second year here and he's completely at home in the mountains.“

  The herdsman dismounted and stood for a moment looking down the hill. “Better horseman than I'll ever be, too. Still wolves are scary things, really give me the shivers. He’s welcome to ‘em."

  With that he led off sharply down through the pines, following the faintest of trails. They crossed one sunlit meadow with several grazing ca
ttle before more steep forest took them down to the valley floor.

  Doldivar remounted and looked down at the boys. "I'll have to ride round the cattle now. Take me several hours. Then I'll meet you by that big white rock over there on the riverbank, about mid-afternoon. Whatever else, be sure you’re back before the sun goes behind that crest up there, or we'll not make the cabin before dark. Now crystals. This low down your best chance is near water: exposes ‘em, you see. So I'd follow the river up the valley a way and try any side streams that look promising. Good luck." With that he wheeled his large bay horse and cantered off.

  The boys worked steadily up the river for half an hour without sighting a single crystal, then struck off up a powerful stream which cascaded down from the mountain on their right. For a while the excitement of the search kept them going at a good pace; but the hillside was rough and steep and even their light packs began to feel heavy. They slowed down and sweated and panted, and eventually emerged at a large break in the trees, still without success.

  The air was noticeably colder up here and large banks of snow filled the sides of the gully which the stream had cut. They were about to give up and turn back when they came across a line of tracks running straight across the snow, a man on foot and a horse.

  "I’ll bet that’s Rasscu," Caldar exclaimed, already plunging ahead.

  Tiredness forgotten, they followed the tiny trail, no more than a foot wide, as it worked its way along the slopes, rising steadily. They would just go up far enough to see what was over the top of the cliffs, which tantalisingly seemed to block off the upper end of the Lanfang. The attraction was of course doubled by their suspicion that the glacier was somewhere up there and they had been told not to go near it.

  Excitement led them swiftly onward until suddenly they crested a sharp rise and stopped awed by what was before them. The glacier lay below. An enormous white highway marked with a pattern of strange regular stripes. It curled up and away to the north west, until it disappeared among a tangle of huge snow peaks in the far distance. Nearer to the silent youths savage rocky summits, dusted with snow, soared sheer from the edge of the ice. Far below them the torrent crashed down into the valley, but the sound seemed distant, unable to disturb the great ocean of silence which enveloped mountains and sky.