A small party of horsemen had been sighted up ahead, Piddur explained to the travellers, as he listened on the fringe of the command group who had gathered around the scout. And a shepherd a couple of miles further on had warned the scouts that he had seen a large group of mounted men, 'many hundreds' he said, off to the south two days before.
"Sounds like Imperial cavalry," Piddur commented. "That pinprick at Karkor must have found a sore spot to make them so bold. Well, they'll be easy to see. All polished breastplates and purple cloaks."
No one needed to point out how vulnerable they were to cavalry on these open grasslands. With redoubled precautions the little party crept forward, halted by occasional alarms, until by evening they had reached the point where the faint depression they were following finally petered out at a low crest. Unable to contain himself, Caldar wriggled forward beside the leading Sarai and looked out over the two miles which separated them from the cliffs.
Directly in front of them the overpowering wall of grey rock was cleft by the tremendous slash of a narrow canyon. Between them and this dark gateway a smooth expanse of grass lay level and empty. Nothing stirred for several miles in each direction and they set off swiftly to make this last open crossing.
The first mile went without incident and they seemed to be almost within touching distance of the canyon, when a bugle call echoed along the cliffs and a squadron of cavalry came swirling over the crest behind them.
Without the need for orders half the Sarai fell back to guard the rear, while the others helped the wounded to make their best possible speed. It became one long breathless dash for safety, which the men on foot were bound to lose. While a vicious running battle developed in the centre, two long wings of racing horsemen reached out to cut them off from both sides. A mere two hundred paces short of their objective the Sarai were driven to a halt.
By this time Rasscu was carrying a bloodied cavalry sabre and Berin had found a similar weapon, though the little group had been placed at the very centre of the Sarai band and fiercely protected.
A sudden clash of arms sounded behind the circling cavalry and the ring of spears around them was burst apart by a torrent of black-clad figures. Sarai from the canyon had sallied out to their aid. They all passed swiftly through the fiercely contested gap and into the gloom of the narrow rock cleft whose towering walls faded far up into the darkening sky.
The sounds of fighting were close behind and stones hummed and sang past them from the slings of the defenders above as they were urged onward. With a shiver Berin wondered if this oppressive chasm would prove to be an escape route or a trap: the evening was closing in and the way grew ever blacker as it wound tortuously inward. At the last turn with the gorge barely ten paces wide they came to an abrupt halt. The canyon was closed by a dry waterfall which reared up far overhead, perpendicular and polished to a glassy surface by the long vanished water.
One of their escort gave a piercing whistle and immediately a knotted rope came snaking down from the unseen watchmen above, followed quickly by two more. Without hesitation the Sarai began to swarm up swiftly, feet against the cliff.
Tariska watched this casual display of strength and agility with growing apprehension. Her worries were groundless. A rope and pulley system whisked up casualties and visitors alike and deposited them effortlessly in the upper canyon. The whole procedure was repeated twice more, until at last they stopped on a ledge and rested in exhaustion for what remained of the night.
All too soon the narrow strip of sky above them paled and a wan daylight began to filter down into the gloomy cleft. Guided by Piddur, they struck a narrow trail which wound up the side of the widening gorge and released them an hour later into the blinding sunshine of the plateau.
Chapter 31
And all the animals which drink the water of the bhereth, be they tame or wild, and all the plants which drink the water of the bhereth, be they sown or wild, all shall be in her holding.
Law of Inheritance - Sarai Tradition
The Harb
For the hundredth time Tariska stared unbelieving at the bare feet of the Sarai hopping from rock to rock beside her. The heat of the day had passed and the rocks were only pleasantly warm in the slanting evening sunlight. But this day as every day, the same feet had carried them carelessly over twenty miles of sharp burning limestone and slopes of cutting shale. Her own shoes had been patched twice already in Sarai bhereths along the way and were about to fall apart again. She glanced at Caldar and caught his answering smile; brown, lean and carefree, all of them looked very different from the gaunt weary band who had been helped unceremoniously up to the plateau rim five weeks before. It all seemed a long time ago.
The outcome of the fight in the canyon had been reported to them later that night, while they had been resting higher up. Their pursuers had paid dearly for their temerity in approaching the Sarai homeland. Some two hundred of them had been drawn further into the gorge by the retreating raiders and then almost wiped out by a storm of stones and arrows from concealed galleries above.
"We gave them permission to remove the bodies under truce. They will have to be quick or the vultures will do their work for them," Piddur had remarked grimly as they emerged from the canyon. "Well, my friends, it has been a rude welcome. But now that we have truly reached my country, we can offer you safe refuge and our hospitality for as long as you wish to remain."
Since then every day had been a revelation of how these remarkable people lived. The surface of the plateau seemed at first to consist entirely of rock, mile after dry unending mile of it. Vast fissured pavements of white limestone where breaking an ankle looked a distinct possibility: boulder fields, where they threaded their way through the random remains of some giants' game: flat beds of rock of all colours, white that gave off a blinding glare, red and black that seared the unwary touch: and everywhere scree and shale and stones of every colour and every size. There were no sandy deserts on the plateau, just stones. After the first couple of days in this harsh brilliant land, Berin could not resist suggesting to Idressin that they test his statement that Rasscu could not now lose the Talisman.
"Just drop it at random among the million million stones we'll walk over tomorrow and see if Rass can find it the next day."
"Good idea, Berin. You could pick up each stone and bring it to Rass for inspection. It would cloud his vision to get sweat in his eyes."
The suggestion was abandoned.
Once they had crossed the plateau rim, all but six of their escort had left them. The men on the raid were renkai, Piddur explained, wanderers, adventurers, outcasts, who for one reason or another had formally cut their ties with their home bhereths. They manned the points of access to the plateau, they volunteered for the raids, they worked on the underground water courses, in short they were to be found doing all the more difficult tasks all over the Semm d'Harb, the Sarai name for the plateau, the Land of Rocks. No escort was needed on the Harb, because all the entry points were guarded, and if any ingenious visitor did find his way onto the plateau, the land itself would probably kill him before the Sarai.
"You will see," Piddur said with a grim smile. "On the Harb, water is life. We control the water."
For five days they saw no surface water and no single animal or tree. The only plants were dessicated spiny thorn bushes, which looked as though they had not felt the touch of rain for years. Each night they stopped in a jumble of rocks like any other they had passed, and after the evening prayer, as brief and silent as at dawn, their guides revealed the hidden wells. It was cool at night at this altitude, but when the midday sun blazed down on this dry wasteland, they shuddered at the thought of being lost up here without water. On the fifth evening they came on an old Sarab, seated alone on a rocky knoll. As the others exchanged shouts, Piddur explained that this was the watchman for the outlier bhereth they were approaching.
"These people are of the Bastinto tribe. Few live here in the southern parts of the Harb. Water is not plentiful, an
d what there is, we have concealed for good reason. No one has ever tried to invade our land from the eastern deserts and from the north, where the cliffs are highest; our enemies have approached from Belugor and Malefor, so we have left the land dry for many miles back from the rim."
Puzzled by the Sarab's words, Berin queried, "What d'you mean 'left the land dry', Piddur? It is dry. I mean, look at it."
"We Sarai have lived here a long time, Berin. In some parts a thousand years and maybe more, who knows? We have had all that time to learn to understand the Harb and to make the changes we desired. You will see for yourself."
Half a mile beyond the watchman, the land dropped away without warning into a steep-sided little valley clothed with the usual thorn bushes, except that here they bore a profusion of silvery leaves. Dry and spiky they would still have been judged in softer climates. Here it felt like entering the jungle. They descended to the dry bed of the old watercourse and followed it as it bent round under some low cliffs. As one, all the visitors halted in amazement and pleasure. They were walking into crops, so intensely green in this bleached wilderness that the effect was unreal. Insects buzzed among the foliage and a flock of goats grazed on the hillside opposite the cliffs.
"Bhereth a Dedri," Piddur announced, showing a rare smile at their reaction. "Come, let us meet our hosts."
There was no one visible at first. The Sarab led them towards the cliff until they could make out a wide cave entrance in the deep shadows and a dozen black-robed figures who awaited them. One grey-bearded Sarab stood forward as they came up and made a little speech, inclining his head respectfully towards Caldar.
Piddur translated. "This is Ama Dedri, the head of his family. His son, who was on the raid, passed this way yesterday, so they know all about you. He is honoured to welcome the Zeddayah to his bhereth. He is asking if you will stay and rest here tomorrow while they prepare a feast to celebrate your coming." This was addressed directly to Caldar, whose quick glance at Idressin found the tutor gazing unconcernedly at the flock of goats. He was being left to make the decisions on his own.
These people clearly lived on slender means. Their isolation and the conditions on the Harb would give little margin for error, and a feast with eleven extra mouths to feed might cost them dear. On the other hand this occasion meant a lot more to them than it did to him; they wanted to remember it.
"Tell them. We accept your hospitality with gratitude. There is no need of a feast. We will share your bhereth this night and eat what you eat and drink what you drink. That will be an honour beyond price."
He was momentarily dismayed at the intense look on Piddur's face, then the guide turned and spoke animatedly to Dedri and his family. A chorus of exclamations broke from the normally reserved Sarai, including their small escort, and he was wondering what serious mistake he had made, when Piddur swung back and addressed him.
"Forgive me, master. You are right to remind us of the words of the Book." Caldar said nothing, but his baffled incomprehension was evident. "You quote to us the words of the Book of the Heart," Piddur continued slowly, with growing realisation. His eyes went wide. "You do not know the Book? Waha bihal! Verily, it is as it is written, the Zeddayah is the very spokesman of God."
After that nothing would content the family except that every one of them, including half a dozen children who appeared from nowhere, should be presented to Caldar in turn, each raising the visitor's hand to touch their own foreheads and kissing the fabled amulet. It all made Caldar very uncomfortable for a while, but the children were the first to lose their shyness of him and as the simple, yet convivial, evening drew on, the adults also began to treat him as a human being. The tutor seemed to be mildly amused by his predicament and at one point remarked in a quiet aside that Caldar had better limit his quotations from the Book if he ever wanted to get home; otherwise the Sarai would never let him leave the plateau.
After the evening prayer, it was time for story-telling. The raid first, and then their other adventures, some told by Idressin and some by Piddur, who was establishing himself as personal ambassador for his exalted visitors. Following the Tinker's advice, no reference was made to the Talisman or to Rasscu's role as the new Rahidor. There was wonder enough in the arrival of the amulet and in the story of Barrada's intervention. A pattern was established which they were to repeat in bhereths all along their long journey across the Harb. Before long the four who did not speak Sarai knew which story was being told and could even guess from the audience's reaction what point had been reached.
Before they left the next day, Ama Dedri and Piddur took them deep into the cave and showed them the secret that gave life to the bhereth. The pool shone smooth and dark in the light of Dedri's torch and stretched back out of sight into the gloom. The cool damp air and the miraculous sight of the water induced a kind of reverence and no one spoke.
It wasn't until they emerged into the dazzling sunlight that Idressin remarked to his companions, "Now you have seen one of the fabled Caves of Gold that the Emperors have lusted after." He laughed. "Ironic, isn't it? They've never understood that what the Sarai guard so carefully gushes out on every street corner in Karkor."
Later when they had been walking for a couple of hours, Berin asked their guide the inevitable question.
"Where did all that water come from, Piddur? There's no sign that it's ever rained up here. Away from the bhereth there's no trees, no plants, except those thorny horrors."
"It rains, Berin, some winters it even snows in the north west of the Harb. And do not be deceived because you cannot see any plants. They are there. For most of the year they lie hidden as roots or just seeds. The first rains of early spring awaken them and for three weeks the Harb blooms. Then they die and wither and disappear. You are two months too late. Now the ground is dry and only the bhereths have water."
"I still don't understand what you said yesterday about making the plateau dry. If it only rains a few days a year, then it's bound to be like this, isn't it?" He waved a hand at the stony depression they were crossing towards a long black ridge ahead. "You didn't make it this way."
There was no reply from Piddur, and Berin was about to ask again, when the Sarab began to answer. "I tell you what no man not of our people has ever been told." Berin's innocent question had touched one of the innermost secrets of the Sarai's existence. "The spring rains are short, but heavy. Much water falls on the north western part of the Harb. Where do you think the great rivers which flow from its skirts into Dendria and Malefor and Belugor have their source? Even the river which gives life to Tarkus? The rock of the Harb takes the rain into itself and protects it from the sun. On the surface all is dry within days after the rain; below it the underground rivers and caverns are bountiful.
Many centuries ago the Sarai with Barrada’s help traced those rivers and found those caverns. We made new channels that bring water from one place to another and we found ways to collect the waters that we wished to keep. And around much of the plateau rim we held back the water and hid it from sun and enemies alike."
He indicated the whole sweep of the low horizon from west to north to east. "The nearest bhereths here are hidden two or three days apart with only our concealed wells in between. How long would it take you to find them, wandering by yourself?"
Berin looked thoughtfully at the surrounding desert of stone. "I would stay at home." he replied with a smile, "or hope Caldar could tell me where to look."
Three nights later they came to the second bhereth, much larger with close on a hundred inhabitants, yet as well hidden as the first. Caldar had to endure the same ritual greetings as before, but Piddur, growing into his ambassadorial role, quoted the Zeddayah's words about the feast without bothering to translate.
Thereafter the bhereths gradually grew closer together, two days apart, then one day, and by now after five weeks they were passing two or three each day. Of course they were walking further too. Ten miles had seemed a long gruelling day at first on the harsh terrain of the
Harb; now they were nearly as relaxed as the Sarai after twenty and more.
This night they stopped at the largest bhereth they had yet encountered. Two weeks ago they had passed into the territory of another tribe, the Muramien, more populous than the Bastinto, and at the evening meal there could be five or six hundred gathered around the campfires. Crops, meadows, even fruit trees spread along the small valley for two or three miles and there was little of the passion for concealment they had seen further south. There were stone dwellings scattered among the trees and most surprisingly open water, the first they had seen on the Harb. It flowed from the usual watercave, common to all the settlements, in a sparkling stream which came to an abrupt end where it disappeared underground a mile down the valley.
"Water is plentiful this year," Piddur stated an hour later as they stood inside the cave entrance and gazed at the dark surface shimmering away into the shadows. "The stream outside is proof that the pool is overflowing. In two or three months it will be a dry bed again, but in many years it does not run at all. We cannot normally afford to be so wasteful. All the water for the crops is taken from here by underground channels lined with stone, so that the sun cannot steal it." He gave one of his rare smiles, teeth gleaming white in the gloom. "The Harb has prepared an extravagant welcome for you, my friends. One more week of this gentle strolling and you will see."
A couple of nights later they stopped unexpectedly at a well, much to Caldar's relief. The constant attention of the Sarai in the bhereths was an unaccustomed kind of pressure that he was finding increasingly hard to bear.
"Is this how it's going to be all over the Harb?" he asked the tutor as they lay under a sky luminous with stars. "An object of curiosity wherever I go?"
The Tears of Sisme Page 81
