"I agreed that with Kherinte," Nyokhen replied. "We knew that our little arrangement would give Caldar some anxious moments, so we thought you should share them with your friend."
"You both acted your parts to perfection," the Tinker added. "The whole family is truly appreciative of the range of emotions you displayed in such a short space of time. Anyway it's over now, lads. All you'll have to do is to participate in the dancing and you can consider your duty done."
"I don't really feel like dancing," Caldar began, relieved, but not relaxed by what he had heard. He had had enough of being the object of everyone else's fun and felt it was time to be assertive and awkward. He was about to go on, when somewhere in the darkness a single deep drum began to play a simple rhythm throbbing with extraordinary vitality. After a few minutes another drum joined in, swelling the sound and crossing the beat. Another followed and another, each with its own subtle rhythmic line, the whole intricate pattern held together by the pulsating bass. Then all sound stopped, cut off without vibration. Silence, burst apart by thunder as all four drums returned in one slow pounding rhythm, so that the boys seemed not only to hear them, but to feel each shattering beat right through to the bone.
Some of the Hamna men got up and started to dance in a line with their arms over each others' shoulders. Another line began to form opposite them. Caldar found the drums almost irresistible, but he had decided to stop doing what others expected him to, and ignoring the beckoning hands he remained stubbornly in his seat.
It wasn't fair that these older people, who knew everything, should tell him nothing and sneer at him all the time. During his whole stay with the Hamna he had been made to feel ignorant and childish. From now on, he would ….he felt a small tug at the back of his tunic. He turned, wondering who wanted him to do what this time. It was Rasscu: still weak, still lying down, but his black eyes shining with life again. The herdsman beckoned the boy to bend his head down, then spoke in his ear. "Because of you, I will dance next time. This time you must dance for me, to celebrate being alive."
Caldar gaped at him, his sullen mood completely wiped away. "No, Rasscu. It wasn't me. It was the Hamna who rescued you. We failed. And it was the Tinker who cured you." The man smiled and motioned him down again.
"I know. Nyokhen told me all about your courage and the Tinker said he couldn’t have helped me without you. This feast’s in honour of you and Berin. Dance, Caldar, dance."
It was as if a key had been turned inside him. The faces around were not smiling in contempt; they were full of friendship. And he did feel like celebrating. He jumped to his feet and was immediately swept into the nearest line. The dance was both vigorous and difficult at first. The men on either side guided him, until he simply let go and fell into the flow of it. Berin had been up before him and was grinning hugely in a line opposite.
By the time the men finished their turn, the boys were exhausted. They collapsed on the rug and watched the women and girls perform some beautiful slow dances. Later under a sky brilliant with stars a flute began to play in the darkness. As the enchanted melody soared and fell, an overwhelming sadness came over Caldar. It seemed unconnected with anything he knew, just sorrow, vast and unavoidable, which made him weep in silence. Berin glanced at him curiously, seeing his friend so disturbed and not knowing the cause. Just when it was becoming unbearable, the music released him and faded away in long gentle cadences.
There was a long pause. Then people began to slip quietly away. Patamo signalled to the boys to follow, as she led off with Jedorje back to the tirot. They were tired, full and fairly drunk, and they almost fell into their beds. By all counts they should both have slept profoundly till morning, but Caldar was not destined to have a peaceful night.
He awoke some time later to the sound of voices inside the tirot. He tried to lift his head to see the speakers, but it seemed impossible to move.
"So you think he's a Radorpa?" It was the Tinker's voice.
Nyokhen replied. "Hope, not think. And it is a hope greater than anything I had imagined before Patamo told me of the signs. There are the wolves also and the avalanche. I know you do not hold to our beliefs, Pithar, but you will admit that this boy is not ordinary."
There was a silence, then Jedorje said, "Well, Tinker? You’ve always spoken freely in this tirot before.”
“That’s true. But…..” Another pause.
“Then let me say it,” Jedorje went on. “You know about the Telling: the forces woven into the girl's future were unmistakable. And I was sure from the first that the boy’s another, perhaps the Perram, however unlikely the chance. I wouldn’t have sent word to you with such urgency if I hadn’t felt it so strongly. You’ve searched so long for this, what's making you hesitate now?"
“You’re right, Jedorje. He carries the Qihal, that’s certain." Someone released a long sigh and began to speak , but the Tinker continued. “It’s buried deep, but so strong that its power shows already. He’s done difficult things with casual ease. To speak with the wolves, I asked him to find himself. There was no need of guidance, I'd no sooner spoken than he had centred his consciousness and was already talking to them. You know how impossible that is without training. And the wolves themselves: their view of the world is completely different from ours, more direct: they see him as 'nearly transparent', that means his potential’s almost unlimited. Then tonight when the flute played the Song of Man, it touched him - you all saw it - and he understood: not just the joy and triumph which everyone feels, but also the sorrow hidden within it.
And yet….and yet…he's just a child, who still thinks like a child and acts like a child. He's rash to the point of folly. Each of the significant things he's done has taken place in a kind of sublime ignorance. I’ve never heard of such a thing before, power manifesting through the Qihal when the Perram is without awareness. Just think how dangerous that could be."
“Come, Pithar. He didn’t cause the avalanche, he saved the girl.”
“And the next time, Nyokhen? Until he’s begun to learn, the lightning he attracts will strike at random. But it’s not the risk to the people around him that concerns me most. Each time the power manifests it will draw attention to him and this Perram we can’t afford to lose.”
“I warned Hamdrim to watch out for him.” Jedorje’s voice was thoughtful. “He said there was a stranger in Rimberford taking an interest in the boy, but I thought he’d be safe enough at the Rails.”
“For the moment. But the hunters that seek him are relentless: give them the least sign and they will close in.”
“But why, Pithar? I know potential Kivattar have been lost before by ill chance…”
“Say it plain: I have lost them before.”
“But no one’s ever hunted them like this. Or have they?”
There was a short silence. Then the Tinker spoke again, his voice grave. “Forgive us, my friends, that we speak so much of our own affairs in your home and leave your question unanswered.”
“We are honoured that you show us such trust, Pithar. These are ominous times for the Hamna and we were overwhelmed by the hope that after all these years we might see the coming of another Radorpa. I do not pretend to understand the doings of the Kivattar, but I recognise in truth that your purposes are greater than ours. If you have found the one you seek in our Tirot, it will be blessing enough. Speak freely. As we have always said to you, your words are silent in our memory.”
“It may put you in danger to know of these things…..”
“Please do not concern yourself. We are always in danger.”
“Very well. These are things I’ve not spoken of before, even to the Kivattar: the risks were too great. Now we’ve come to the brink, the time for secrecy is over. We stand at the threshold of another Age of Darkness, my friends, one so deep that we may not come out.”
“The Ages of Darkness speak to us of terrors from the distant past, Pithar.” Patamo was speaking for the first time. “So long ago that we know nothing of them. Is it
the war or something worse that we should fear?”
“The war is just one more raindrop in the storm. Yes, there’s more to fear than the war.” The Tinker’s voice was so heavy that Caldar didn’t want to hear any more: but prisoned in sleep, he was carried on, closer to a nameless fear, the shadowy root of all nightmares. “There are always those who seek to rule us: they’re not the direct concern of the Kivattar. But there are times when the blind greed for life risks destroying the very thing it seeks, risks upsetting the balance which makes us human and reducing humanity to animals.”
Nyokhen said something so quietly that Caldar couldn’t catch it.
“You think that’s impossible?” the Tinker went on. “Consider what happens to plants when they lose the light: they shrivel, and if the darkness remains complete, they die: that’s what happens to our spirits when they lose the connection with the life which feeds them. In previous Ages of Darkness it came close and each time mankind was saved. Just. This time it’s closer than ever.”
“Why? What makes it different now?” Jedorje’s voice was so strained that Caldar scarcely recognised it.
“Our old enemies have become stronger, Jedorje, and they know more clearly what they’re looking for. Most of the time we carry on our work and survive by being invisible, as you well know. But for the new group it may be impossible to hide. What chance would you give them out in the open against the Spinners or the Shadowmasters?”
“None.” The Teller did not hesitate. “But how will they know of the new group? What would give them away?” Then more quickly, “Are you saying this man Kulkin was actually searching for the boy, because he is to be one of us? Searching before we had found him ourselves?”
“So I believe. What triggered the hunters? The very thing which gives us some hope, the thing which has snatched the world back many times before from total darkness.” The Tinker paused, then added quietly, “The Talismans are about to return.”
There was a long silence. When at last it came, Nyokhen’s astonished whisper renewed the listener’s anxiety. “The Talismans? The true Talismans? Now, in our time?”
“So the next group, the next Perram……” Jedorje’s voice trailed away. “ Little wonder the girl’s Telling was so strong. I should have known.”
“You begin to see what’s at risk. The boy’s wild ventures could draw unwanted eyes to the whole group. And even worse he’s already hunted. His birth was prophesied in the Book of Marr. Not naming him as a Perram, only the Kivattar would understand that, but calling him ‘the Holder of the Keys of Power’ and the like, quite enough to rouse the interest of those who wield the real power in this world. Of course the words were referring to the effect of the whole group, but the prophecy focused on the Perram and so have the hunters. The time and place of his birth was clear enough for those who could decipher it. Someone did. I went there three months early and it was gone, the whole village, the people, the houses, the livestock, everything, burned and levelled to the ground. I circled the country around, but the inhabitants were too terrified to talk, the memories too recent. One question I did get answered - and always the same answer - no one had come out alive, man, woman or child.
Only the existence of the prophecy gave me the hope that he would indeed be born, but it offered little else, no clues of where to search. And now, when I was beginning to despair, he comes to us. Not only the Perram, but the whole group. I would have said that this was the strangest of all chances, my friends, but it’s beyond chance.”
“You have found the whole group?” Now the Teller was whispering as well. “Are you sure? Yes, of course you are.”
“The girl and this youth you recognised yourself. The other two were hidden from you by your own nature. The boy Berin and the herdsman Rasscu are the third and fourth.” His voice was quiet, but it reached Caldar clearly. “Yes, Jedorje, we now have all four. They have so much to learn, so much to do, and almost no time in which to do it. Unprepared they can’t survive, but we have no choice but to push them on into danger.”
“There may be a danger even you haven’t foreseen, Pithar.” Jedorje was still whispering. “I remember you telling us that a life relationship between Perram and Warrior is mortally dangerous for them and may put an end to the group’s possibilities. You should know that in the girl’s Telling the strength of her link to Caldar….”
As soon as Caldar heard his name, it was as if a jolt ran through his body and in that instant he came truly awake. There were indeed voices in the tirot, the Tinker, Jedorje, Nyokhen and Patamo, and when he raised his head, he could see them sitting by the fire. But they were talking in Hamna and he couldn't understand a word.
He lay back and began to wonder about his dream. It had been highly fanciful - whatever could have led him to imagine such a conversation? Yet it had left a sense of foreboding which kept him awake for hours.
At last he fell into a deep sleep just moments, or so it felt, before Patamo woke them for breakfast with the news that Rasscu was fit to travel again and they were to go back to the Rails that very day. They had known this moment was coming, but the feeling of loss still surprised them by its strength, rendering both of them silent and glum until the Tinker and Jedorje joined them. It was impossible to remain dispirited in Jedorje's vivid presence and to their delight the Tinker announced that he was coming with them.
"I know," he added, sensing their mood, "it's hard to leave your new friends, particularly when your marriage prospects are so good, but just think how lucky you are to have been here at all. Don't forget most people from the Lake have never even seen the Hamna, let alone lived with them and been adopted into a family. Now you'll be welcome back any time. You'll realise when you see more of the world, it's a considerable gift Nyokhen and his family have bestowed on you. It’s what being ‘clan’ used to mean before it became just words and misplaced pride.” He gave them no time to voice the protest written on their faces. “Go on, get your things together. It will be a slow journey today with Rasscu and we need to be off."
When they emerged from the tent with their packs, they found Rasscu already being assisted onto the back of one of the Hamna cattle. They also found that most of the family seemed to have gathered to see them off. Hreshin and the other three girls came forward and gave each of the boys a tight hug, to the general approval of the whole crowd. Feeling the warmth of their affection and looking at Hreshin's sweet face, Caldar wondered at his fears of the previous night and thought perhaps it wouldn't have been so bad after all.
The whole gathering followed them to the edge of the encampment; then with a last bewildering round of farewells and embraces, the most crushing of them all from Patamo, they were off up the valley, accompanied by Nyokhen, Jedorje and two other Hamna.
"I didn't know you were coming with us, Jedorje." Berin said with pleasure.
"Only to the pass," she replied. "Then I must return to my own family, where I have much to do. I don't know what they'll say, when they find out that I'm to be married at last." She sighed deeply. "Well, I suppose a girl just has to give in some time."
"Are we going to hear jokes about this for the rest of our lives?" Caldar asked, pretending to sound annoyed.
"I think that's quite likely. It's such fun for everyone else, Caldar. Look, it's making Rasscu feel better right this minute."
True enough, the herdsman was laughing quietly as he rode up the trail behind them.
"She's right, Caldar." he said. "It was very funny. I felt a bit sorry for you at times last night, but not for long. Anyway I need something to take my mind off this beast I'm riding. It's got a spine like an axe blade.”
It was a lovely morning, with a few fluffy clouds sailing sedately overhead. The slow journey back up to the pass seemed easy and pleasant on such a day and with such companions. In fact they were surprised how soon they were topping the crest, with the glacier and a huge vista of mountains before them. Away down to their left the green of the Rails stretched off towards the invisible
farmhouse.
Jedorje had been talking closely with the Tinker and Nyokhen for the past hour. As they halted, she came over to the boys and said, "This is where I turn back." Then she added, "Don't think you've seen the last of me. Our paths will cross many times, I know it. Take care, young ones, don't fly too far too soon. Some of us have grown fond of you already and would like to see you again all in one piece." She gave them each a fierce hug, then stepped away down the return trail with one of the Hamna.
For the others it was rough going for a while, until they picked up the faint trail below the glacier. After that it became progressively easier, as Nyokhen led them unerringly onto the path circling round to Far End. The cabin was deserted when they arrived, so the two youths set about lighting the fire while the others literally lifted the cramped Rasscu from his uncomfortable perch. A few minutes later Nyokhen approached the boys.
"We are leaving now. We wish to reach our camp before dark and these animals are not fast, even unburdened." He handed each of them a small disk of what seemed to be smooth milky-coloured stone suspended on a loop of cord. "Keep these tokens safe. Any Hamna will recognise them and will know that you are truly of a Hamna family. Fare well, young friends. Come back to us when you can."
"Those are rare trinkets you have there, lads," the Tinker remarked as they stood and watched the tribesmen stride away across the hillside. " They're made from a stone called siondda they find in the mountains. The Hamna pass them on in families for generations and there are traders who’d pay well for one of these. I wonder exactly what he's given you."
The Tinker held out his hand to Caldar, who almost reluctantly gave him the token. "Mmm. Very baffling these Hamna relics. There are marks under the surface, inside the stone. But whatever it says, I can’t read it."
He handed it back. As soon as Caldar’s hand closed over it, quite simply he knew. "This was the stone of a great warrior," he said before he even thought about it. "He fought to free the Hamna and other peoples from . . .". His voice died away and left him looking at the Tinker in consternation. "How do I know that?"
The Tears of Sisme Page 16
