Frictus whistled softly between his teeth.
"You've gone soft in the head, Dek. You'll never get authorisation for that…"
"I already have. Came through by courier from For Dendak last night, not authorisation, instruction."
There was a silence, full of unspoken words. Then the older man sighed. "You did say Theyn was hot on this one. What d'you think it is? The war?"
"Could be. It's not started yet, but if the Borogoi are pushing up beyond Tarkus, it's not far off, is it?"
"That was just one raiding party." Frictus gave a short bark of laughter. "Went a bit wrong for them too, didn't it?"
"For an old soldier, you're very naïve. How long since there've been raids this side of Tarkus? I can't remember any and I doubt my grandfather could either. Precious few this side of Sand City, come to that. No, it's all started in the last twelve months. Those cocky Quezma bastards reckon they're ready, they're using the Borogoi as scouts for an invasion."
"So d'you think this bunch we're chasing are spies then? We've hauled in plenty recently, but there's never been this kind of fuss. Perhaps they've come to observe the disposition of the invincible Imperial army." Another laugh. "By the Stone, apart from the Imperial Guard the Dendrians are the only decent troops we've got and most of them are mercenaries who'll fight on the other side if the money's right. It's madness…."
Delkut slapped both his hands down on the desk. "Sergeant Frictus." His voice was cold. "It's time you went off duty. You're tired and I suggest you go straight to your quarters without holding any further conversations with anyone. Is that quite clear?"
The sergeant stood up slowly and put his unfinished drink down on the edge of the desk.
"Yes, that is quite clear, sir." The emphasis on the last word stopped just short of insolence. Frustration? At all events he went without another word, to Delkut's relief. A good man, Frictus, with a sensible view of the world. But that was no recommendation in Special Forces these days.
Semikarek had been a lazy venal pig with a nasty streak of cruelty, just like most officials of high rank, whether state or military. So everyone knew where they stood. Theyn was different. Startlingly and ruthlessly efficient, he had transformed his command within the first two years, until the SF was a name spoken with pride as well as fear. He had always taken a close interest in field operations all over the Empire and his ability to control distant events had been remarkable. In the last year or so this control had become positively uncanny, as Frictus had said earlier. Things like Pak's reward. Delkut had been thinking about asking for authorisation just hours before the courier arrived. Could the man read his mind? No, that was ludicrous. Yet he had the uncomfortable feeling of being under observation at all times and that had made him cut Frictus off short.
He took another swallow of brandy and settled back with a sigh. Troubled times. His SF unit was already stretched to the limit sifting through the new Register of Aliens and dealing with civil unrest, although thankfully the Dendrian police felt most of the pressure there. This crazy incident in the Holonai would set him back at least three weeks. And as war grew closer, there'd probably be a Conscription Order which would cause even more trouble. The war itself wouldn't be his business, but he knew Dendria would be in the front line. It wasn't a good time to have a failing old man on the throne. Not that he was going to make Frictus' mistake of saying anything out loud, but there'd have to be a change sometime soon.
Empire, Holonai Mountains
It grew steadily colder, until one morning the travellers could see fresh snow just above the camp. By midday they were making tracks in it, ankle-deep as they led their shaggy little mounts over the next pass. They dropped back into the treeline again, but before nightfall they could see that they were indeed coming among the high peaks. The valley grew bare and stony as it climbed ahead of them and immense snow slopes swept up dizzyingly on all sides to the clouds far above.
It was well that they had such trust in Idressin, who seemed quite unconcerned by the growing savagery of the terrain or by the increasing precariousness of their situation. They had already eaten most of their food: bad news, if they had to turn back.
"Where are we going from here, Idressin?" Caldar ventured to ask as they set up camp among some bushes, the last trees miles below them.
"You see the gorge where the valley bends left up ahead." The tutor pointed, as they all gathered round. "Round the corner there’s a glacier, then a high pass over into the next valley. And that's where we should find food and shelter." He smiled at the boys' anxious faces. "Cheer up. This is the hardest part and it’ll be over in two days."
"Glacier, eh?" Rasscu's voice was relaxed. "You go in front this time, lads."
They ate well that night at the tutor's insistence and, as the skies cleared, fell asleep under a blaze of stars. A fine dawn, turning the icy peaks to red and gold, compensated for stiff limbs and cold fingers. The nearby stream had frozen over during the night and the ground was rock hard. Idressin told them not to hurry, and as they approached the gorge in mid-morning they understood why. The narrow path crept like a slender eyebrow up and across a near-vertical slope, at the bottom of which the glacier stream boiled and pounded. In many places little streams crossed the path, but the treacherous ice of of early morning had now melted to running water fringed with harmless icicles.
The glacier gave them an easy crossing. Its lower reaches were bare of snow and the surface of the ice had melted to give a satisfying crunchy grip. The few crevasses were visible and easily avoided, and the ponies trotted over to the far side without hesitation. It was what came next that was truly daunting. The way zigzagged endlessly up a side valley to the west of the glacier. Hour after hour each steep rise merely gave way to another, longer and steeper, until it seemed that they were condemned to toil for ever like insects on an immense slope which was growing faster than they could ascend it.
They had been in snow again since early afternoon, deep enough to make progress a real effort as they panted in the thin air leading the ponies. Just when the boys felt they could not raise their leaden legs for one more step, the slope fell back and they floundered forward in Idressin's tracks onto level ground.
"Is this the top?" Caldar gasped, trembling with exhaustion.
"Near enough," the tutor reassured them, looking annoyingly fresh despite breaking the trail for hours. "We'll camp here tonight. Nearly all the climbing's behind us. Put on as many clothes as you can; it'll be a cold night."
They made a small fire with wood the pack ponies had carried up; but when it died down later in the night, it was indeed cold. The boys found it impossible to sleep, tired though they were, and shivered uncontrollably in their blankets for interminable hours before the lightening sky signalled the dawn. They were so high that the sunlight touched them early as they crouched round their tiny fire. Cramped limbs slowly unknotted and warmth returned in the windless air.
With blue sky overhead and the crest of the pass in sight, the boys were able to look at the glittering array of peaks around them with appreciation. Castles and towers of crystal whiteness soared among immense battlements of black stone, silent and utterly peaceful this quiet morning. Reinvigorated they set off behind Idressin up the last gentle mile to the pass.
The snowstorm fell on them like a demon. Without any warning the scene around, and even the very slope they stood on, disappeared in whirling white madness. Tremendous gusts hammered at them from all sides and the temperature fell abruptly. The snow-covered figure of the tutor immediately worked his way down the line tying the ponies together and telling his companions to keep hold of their mounts at all costs. Going back to the front, he led on, although those following were so blinded that they could hardly tell up from down. They had the distinct feeling sometimes that they were about to step over the edge of an unseen cliff and at other times that they had turned aside and were climbing an ever-steepening mountainside towards one of the towering peaks on either hand. Only their co
mplete faith in Idressin kept them moving forward.
An hour later the blizzard ceased as suddenly as it had begun. Or rather it vanished. One moment they were struggling along by feel alone, half-frozen and bent double to escape the wind; the next they were standing at the crest of the pass in calm sun-filled air, unable to see any trace of a retreating storm. They looked around in bewilderment as the snow which had been plastered to every inch of them swiftly melted and fell away. For once Idressin proffered an explanation before they could ask the question.
"That was a little welcome from my friends in the next valley. Seems they're still here. They use these storms and other tricks to discourage visitors."
Before satisfying their curiosity any further he waved them to follow him forward to the valley rim. By contrast to the icy wilderness behind them, the great rift below was vibrant with colour. Greens and browns, reds and yellows almost filled the floor of it, as the forests there displayed their autumn hues. In the centre was an oval green lake, as perfect as a polished gemstone, and set on a small hill above the lake stood a building shaped like a hollow square with a roof of brilliant blue.
"The Brethren of Kramenti," the tutor announced. "Monks. Ascetics. Mystics. Magicians. People who’ve heard of them call them all sorts of different things. Or rather 'used to call them', because this place isn't supposed to exist any more. The Brethren haven't let outsiders into the valley for over three hundred years and Kramenti's just a legend now."
"Will there be more nasty surprises?" Berin asked. "Or was that storm their only defence?"
"Well, we still have to get down into the valley." The boys felt uneasy at that particular twinkle in Idressin's eye. "If you look around, you'll see that's quite a problem."
True enough, spectacular cliffs ran unbroken around the valley rim. At their feet, the nearest ground came into view several hundred feet below. "They have their own means of going up and down the valley walls," the tutor continued, laughing as he saw the look of awe creep into the youths' faces. "No, no, not flying, though perhaps they could if they put themselves to it. No, they use platforms with a rope and pulley system, there's one just near us now. But we'll wait. They know we're here and someone will arrive soon to check who we are."
Sure enough, not many minutes later two figures appeared a hundred paces away as if from nowhere. The travellers studied them with interest as they approached. Heads completely shaven, they were barefoot with a single thin brown robe apiece. Both were small, almost dainty, their bodies moving with the lithe grace of perfect health.
The tutor spoke in greeting as they came near. Then alerted by the strange impassivity of their faces, he was just voicing a warning to the others, when the monks acted. Both of them stepped forward, a last giant stride of ten normal paces, took Rasscu by one arm each and flipped him out into space.
Caldar tried to analyse it later. As the monks stepped forward, everything started to happen extraordinarily slowly. The two brown-clad figures were floating towards them for minutes on end. Each of them gradually extended a hand towards Rasscu and without apparent effort propelled him gently out over the edge, then just as gently pulled him back, restoring him to his place exactly as if nothing had happened. It seemed as though someone had simply turned back time and reinstated the moment before the Tesserit had been touched.
And yet it was not the same moment. Rasscu was wide-eyed with shock and sat down abruptly as if his legs had given away. Berin was standing nearby, tensely staring at the monks, who were now down on their knees, foreheads pressed to the ground at Idressin's feet.
Caldar’s shock was turning to rage, when he suddenly realised that Idressin was laughing aloud, the sound echoing around the crags. He smiled in spite of himself and his anger vanished like a mirage. The tutor spoke softly to the monks in a strange tongue and they raised their heads fearfully from the ground to look at him. Reassured by his benign expression, they got to their feet and stood with eyes downcast, while he questioned them.
After a few minutes he waved them away. They moved off, still looking back in fear until they dropped from view just where they had first appeared. Idressin turned to his friends and explained.
"That young pair had the duty of keeping an eye on the pass here. They were alerted by the storm that someone was trying to get through and came up to investigate. I can't believe it's the accepted practice now to toss visitors off the cliffs, but they insist that's what they were instructed to do. Anyway they're scared stiff, because we stopped them and they offered to do whatever we asked. I've told them to go and tell their brethren below that this is not the sort of welcome we expect and that we don't want any more mistakes, or we might get really angry and they wouldn't like that at all."
His light tone did nothing to alleviate Rasscu’s disorientation. When the monks had extended their arms, throwing him over the edge, they had found themselves unable to let go and all in the same motion had drawn their intended victim back to safety. Rasscu sensed what had nearly happened, but it seemed more dream than reality and that was causing him some difficulties.
After a quick glance at his face the tutor announced it was time for lunch: he would cook if the boys rustled up some wood. A short time later he was producing hot pancakes which vanished as fast as he made them. Eventually they could eat no more and they sat sipping scalding amalra tea and looking over the beautiful valley spread out beneath.
"There are warm springs in the forest", Idressin informed them, "so the lake never freezes, even in the hardest winters. They can grow crops here that wouldn't normally flourish at this height."
"How do they keep such a lovely place to themselves?" Berin asked. "Kill everyone who comes this way?"
"No, Berin. What happened here a few minutes ago just doesn't make sense. It's against all the principles of the Brotherhood to attack people. I think we'll have to approach the monastery with caution; there've been some changes here I don't understand." He fell silent, clearly pondering the problem.
“That’s enough to keep most people away." Caldar was pointing at the mountains all around. "I can’t see an easy way in anywhere.”
"There isn’t," the tutor confirmed, standing up. “The pass we came over is the easiest. Come on, let's go down. We need to stock up on food again and I’d like to know what's happening inside the Brotherhood. I just warn you, be on your guard. There’s power here and it may not be in the right hands."
They soon found the hoist, a rickety looking contraption approached through a cave in the cliff top. Even the stolid little ponies eyed it with nervousness and a quiet word from Idressin was needed before they would step bravely onto the swaying platform. It was only big enough to hold one animal on each trip and it took a long time to wind all six down to the bottom.
A good path led them down across the upper terraces and into the forest. The trees were of every variety, fir and broadleaf mixing freely, and they grew in stature as the travellers descended. Long before they reached the valley floor, colossal oaks were spreading their canopy overhead from trunks fifteen feet across and groves of pines towered two hundred feet up into the sky. Idressin was turning his head from side to side with a curious expression, but he made no comment and they rode on along a widening track until they found themselves approaching the monastery itself.
They emerged into fields encircling the base of a small bare hill on which the building was set. Its walls, made of large blocks of stone, were several stories high with a single huge doorway and few windows which made it difficult to gauge its scale. The brown-habited monks working in the fields paid them no attention as they passed, and it was not until they had wound up the rise to the arched entrance that someone stepped forward to greet them. An older man, same shaven head, same flowing movements, but a grey robe this time and watchful eyes above his welcoming smile.
Suddenly his eyes lit up with pleasure and he embraced Idressin heartily, saying in Shattun. "Well, well. After all these years. Fadeen. Who would have believed it? No w
onder the east side guards came down with their tails between their legs. I always thought you'd come to a bad end, but no one was in any doubt about your abilities. Come inside. I'll find you a room and you can introduce me to your companions over supper. We eat early here."
“Tell me what’s wrong here, Vizzik,” Idressin said quietly.
The monk gave the tutor a sharp glance. His voice dropped almost to a murmur as he replied. "Come. We can talk inside”
They left the ponies tethered to an iron ring on the outer wall, then followed their guide into the echoing darkness of a vast room lit by a single torch. Vizzik explained that he was in charge of most of the practical household arrangements in the monastery; clothing, bedding, furniture, repairs of every kind. "There are others," he said, leading them right across the hallway to some invisible stairs in the far corner, "who have more important roles to do with the religious aspects of the Brotherhood."
"And what of Master Dzar?" Idressin asked as they groped up the gloomy stairway.
"He's been in retreat for over two years," Vizzik replied, his face lost in the gloom, but his voice clearly expressing concern. "They say he's still alive, but he's not taken food for three months now and the belief is that he'll not last much longer." He sighed. "A sad day that will be for all of us. His presence is the only thing that holds this monastery …."
He broke off abruptly and stopped stock still, peering along the wide passageway which opened on their left at this point. Caldar could hear nothing, but he thought he could see a patch of extra blackness in the dark of the passage, a shape which moved silently away and faded into the impenetrable shadows.
Vizzik led them up another flight of stairs without speaking again, and then turned abruptly left and right to take them through a narrow door. The small room beyond was bright with sunlight. A large glassless window looked down the length of the valley and a pile of blankets was folded neatly in one corner.
The Tears of Sisme Page 43
