Whistler

by Roger Taylor

  Now the indignation was Nertha’s. ‘I’m not shocked at the sight of people falling over,’ she said, her brow furrowing. ‘I’ll have you know, I’ve seen…’ She stopped as Vredech smiled up at her. Then he found he was looking at her mouth. His hand moved of its own volition, wanting to reach out and touch. And his chest tightened. Nertha’s eyes seemed to widen and she moved her face a little closer to his.

  Vredech forced his hand to be still and, stiff-faced, yanked his eyes away. ‘Anyway, whatever happened in there, I’m fine now,’ he said briskly, though he felt himself colouring. ‘Perhaps I’m still a little tired from being awake all the other night. Let’s get away from here. We’ve more serious things to talk about now than my feeling a little dizzy in that crowd.’

  Uncharacteristically, Nertha stammered. ‘Yes… yes. You seem to be well enough now.’ She looked around. Even from where she was standing, she could see the edge of the crowd which was gathered at the front of the Meeting House. And she could hear the hubbub inside. She shivered.

  ‘Goose walking over your grave?’ Vredech said, standing up.

  Nertha grimaced. ‘No,’ she said simply. ‘Just Cassraw. Come on?’

  They left through Cassraw’s private garden to avoid the crowd, and rode for some time without speaking. To Vredech, the implications of Cassraw’s wild sermon left so many questions that it seemed impossible to start a rational conversation. And his mind was filling again with frantic thoughts about his mysterious transportation to the Whistler and his world, and all that that implied for his sanity.

  Nertha had no such problems. She was silent partly because she could see that Vredech needed a little time to recover himself, but mainly because she was thinking. It puzzled her that, though he had unquestionably been on the verge of fainting, Vredech had subsequently shown none of the symptoms of someone overcome by the heat. And the memory of his eyes disturbed her. It had only been a fleeting glance, but she had seen what she had seen, surely?

  ‘Tell me what happened back there, Allyn,’ she said bluntly.

  ‘Nothing,’ Vredech said vaguely, after a long hesitation.

  Nertha glanced at him. ‘It was only yesterday you said you’d tell me about everything that happened to you. You volunteered it, I didn’t wring it out of you. And you promised. “Keep an open mind – as never before” I think you said. And I said I would. So don’t give me “nothing”.’ She weighted the words with full family reproach.

  ‘You’ll think I’m truly mad if I tell you,’ Vredech said eventually, and very uncomfortably.

  Nertha’s reaction was unexpected and tangential, as the Whistler’s had been in response to a similar remark. ‘Never mind what you think I’ll think,’ she said with brutal sharpness. ‘And don’t ever presume to know what I’m thinking. Just concern yourself with what I say and do, and I’ll give you the same courtesy.’

  The abruptness and power of the response jerked Vredech out of his own circling anxieties, and he gaped at her.

  ‘Well?’ she concluded forcefully.

  Vredech still hesitated. Then he looked up at the Ervrin Mallos. ‘What can you see at the top of the mountain?’ he asked.

  Nertha’s expression was impatient, but she followed his gaze. After staring for a moment, she screwed up her eyes and craned forward a little. ‘There seems to be some kind of heat haze, I suppose,’ she said, settling back into her saddle.

  ‘It’s no heat haze,’ Vredech said with some certainty. ‘It’s not the kind of day for a heat haze, and have you ever seen one isolated at the top of a mountain?’

  Nertha looked up again and shrugged. ‘If it’s not a heat haze then it’s something else to do with the weather,’ she said indifferently. ‘But whatever it is, it’s not hazy enough to prevent me from seeing what you’re up to, so just tell me what happened to you in the Meeting Hall.’

  Vredech looked openly relieved. ‘I’m glad you can see it, though,’ he said. ‘I think it’s been there for some time now.’ Then, before Nertha could speak again, he began telling her of his encounter with the Whistler.

  She was silent when he finished. ‘I said you’d think I was mad,’ he said, watching her carefully.

  ‘And I told you not to worry about what I was thinking,’ Nertha replied tartly. ‘You wanted me to keep an open mind, and I will, no matter how hard it is.’ She looked at him, her face confused yet determined. ‘I can do it while I’m sure you’re telling everything that’s happening. We must trust one another. And in that context, I’ll be honest. I’d think you were mad indeed if you’d suddenly awoken with the intention of killing Cassraw.’

  Vredech looked at her helplessly. ‘What’s happening, Nertha? What can I do?’

  Nertha replied instantly. ‘I’ve no idea,’ she said. ‘But whoever and wherever the Whistler is, whether he’s something your mind’s made up for some reason, or whether he truly does lie in some strange other world, he’s doing you no harm so far. Cling to that, Allyn. Cling to that. He’s doing you no harm. And while you talk about him, I don’t think he will.’

  She reined her horse to a halt and stared around, her hands tapping the horse’s neck in frustration. ‘I know it seems a lifetime now, but a couple of days ago, if you recall, we said we’d ride and talk. I’d tell you how the old place has changed. We’d go out into the country.’ Her eyes drifted towards the summit of the Ervrin Mallos, just visible above the rooftops. ‘I think we should do that now,’ she said, suddenly determined. ‘Let’s weary ourselves with good honest exercise and go to the heart of this business at the same time.’ Her eyes were alive and challenging. ‘Are you with me?’ she asked, as if they had been children daring one another into mischief again. ‘Let’s take this devil by the tail. There’s time before night. Up to the top of the mountain.’

  Before Vredech could answer, she had swung her horse about and was galloping away.

  Chapter 27

  Vredech found the pace trying. He had always been a better rider than Nertha, and the sight of her moving not merely ahead of him but getting steadily further away, revived sensations that he had not experienced since his youth.

  ‘Come on, nag, move,’ he growled furiously to his mount, urging it forward, but to no avail. He caught up with Nertha only when she stopped, and by then he was red-faced and breathless.

  ‘You should try letting the horse do the running,’ she said, laughing.

  ‘It wasn’t fair, it was uphill,’ he said fatuously, spluttering into laughter himself as he realized what he had said.

  Nertha swung down from her horse. ‘We’ll walk them awhile – let them cool down. I doubt your horse has had any exercise since you bought it.’

  Vredech affected a dignified silence.

  Their gallop had carried them to a little-used road high above the town. Below them lay the familiar jumble of winding streets and grey-roofed houses tumbling down towards the larger buildings at the centre of the town, and thence to the towers of the PlasHein. Had they searched, they would have been able to see the roof of the Haven Meeting House, but neither of them did.

  Looking round, Vredech remembered the vision that the Whistler had shown him, of a vast, strangely flat city devastated by a cruel enemy. He remembered, too, his denial, and felt it again here. Not in Canol Madreth. It wasn’t possible…

  Was it?

  ‘It’s not cavalry country, is it?’

  Nertha’s remark struck him like a blow.

  ‘What?’ he exclaimed fiercely.

  She looked at him wide-eyed, startled by his response. ‘I said it’s not cavalry country,’ she repeated. ‘It’s better suited to light infantry.’

  ‘What are you talking about, girl? What do you know about cavalry and infantry?’ He was almost shouting.

  ‘Don’t call me girl,’ Nertha blasted back. ‘You know I hate it. And what are you shouting at me for?’

  Vredech’s mouth opened wide, then closed again unhappily. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, wilting. ‘I was just thinking a
bout what the Whistler showed me – that ruined city and riders swarming through the streets, killing people, just for fun.’ He folded his arms about himself protectively.

  Nertha watched him closely. ‘Vivid?’ she said.

  His face twisted with the pain of the memory. ‘Yes. There was so much in his music that I can’t find words for. I don’t want to think about it.’

  Nertha looked out across the valley. ‘Strange,’ she said. ‘I’m half-envious of you and your strange new friend.’

  They stood silent for a little time, before Vredech said, quite simply, ‘Don’t be,’ and started walking away. Nertha followed him.

  There was no more solemnity as they continued on their journey, now walking, now riding, trotting, galloping until they reached the Witness House. They gave their horses to a groom there and continued on foot. Vredech strode out strongly until they were out of sight of the Witness House then he slowed.

  ‘I suppose you did that because I rode faster than you,’ Nertha panted as she caught up with him.

  Vredech chuckled. ‘As a matter of fact, no,’ he replied. ‘But only because I forgot. I just wanted to be away from the Witness House because I think I’m going to be living up here over the next few days, discussing what’s happened.’ He pulled a wry face. ‘I wonder what else Cassraw said while we were outside?’

  ‘Forget it, and get up that mountain, or go and see Mueran right now,’ Nertha insisted. ‘I’m not having you looking over your shoulder every two minutes. It’s one or the other… I’ll do whatever you want.’

  ‘Very well, father,’ Vredech said piously. He turned and looked at the steep grassy slope ahead. ‘Let’s see how fit your legs are after so long away from any proper hills.’ Nertha curled her lip at him and motioned him upwards with an sharp inclination of her head.

  Vredech made no effort to race, however. He had given up that kind of folly many years ago, as time had given him a little more awareness of his own vulnerability. And besides, he was far from certain that he could outstrip Nertha, for all his bluster. Thus they walked more or less side by side, moving steadily upwards until they came at last to Ishryth’s lawn. They paused there, as did most people, and rested for a little while in the silence and the sunlight. Neither spoke.

  Then they began the final ascent towards the summit. Nertha kept pace with him easily and Vredech made a quiet resolution to do more walking when all this was over.

  When all what was over?

  His own question jolted all his concerns back on to him. As if sensing it, Nertha turned and issued a brisk, ‘Come on. We’ll stop at the next skyline,’ and then moved off smartly. It was sufficient to release him for the moment, but Vredech knew that some of the magic of the impromptu journey was irreplaceably lost. Nevertheless he was still content to be where he was, concentrating on placing one foot in front of the other and moving quietly upward through the clear mountain air.

  When he reached the skyline he found Nertha, a little red-faced and breathless, staring curiously at the summit which, for the first time since they had started up the mountain proper, was now in view.

  The strangeness about the summit which Nertha had casually identified as heat haze, was there still: an uneasy distortion which made the summit appear to be shifting and changing, although when any one part of it was examined, it seemed quite still.

  ‘I’m not even sure I’m seeing what I’m seeing,’ Nertha said, rubbing her eyes then squinting up at the peak. ‘Can you see it? Moving and not moving.’

  Vredech nodded. It was as good a description as any.

  ‘What do you think it is?’ Nertha asked.

  Vredech felt something stirring deep inside him. Not so much an anger as a combination of hatred and a predator’s lust for its prey. ‘I’ve no idea. Let’s do as you said. Take the devil by the tail.’ He bared his clenched teeth. ‘And twist it,’ he said, his hand miming the deed. Nertha glanced at him uncertainly and then squeezed his arm.

  As they began clambering up the final rocky slope, Vredech felt far less assured than he seemed outwardly. Despite his best efforts he found himself thinking of the many legends that hung about the mountain: about how it had been torn from a land far away by Ishryth to crush a terrible foe, or how it had been driven upwards from deep below to escape the awful cries of a king imprisoned by Ishryth, and too, how the Watchers of Ishryth looked over it from their great palaces in the clouds. A whole gamut of stories were wound about the mountain, from holy texts in the Santyth to children’s tales and dancing rhymes. Most of the tales in the Santyth were either allegorical in character or had obvious historical derivations and, of course, as he kept saying to himself, none of the more fanciful myths were to be taken seriously. But the Ervrin Mallos dominated not only the land of Canol Madreth, it also loomed large in the hearts and minds of its inhabitants, and no one was absolutely free of some superstition about the place. That it had become the site for the heart of their religion testified to that.

  It took Vredech far more mental effort than he would have imagined to hold his growing anxiety at bay. He found it comforting simply watching Nertha clambering agilely over the rocks and looking about her constantly, eyes prying into the faint haziness about the summit. She seemed in some way to be invulnerable, while fear was hovering increasingly at the edge of his mind. Fear of the darkness that had hung over the mountain when he had been here last, and of the deeper darkness that had enveloped him, and, not least, of the strange barbarous paean of rejoicing he had heard, and the terrible, interrogating coldness that it had presaged.

  He looked up at the sky. Bright blue and littered with small white clouds, it was the very antithesis of that day. Yet though the sun’s warmth more than compensated for the cool breeze that was beginning to blow as they neared the summit, he began to feel a chill deep inside – a tiny, ice-cold knot. They must have moved into the region of the haziness by now, yet there was no sign of any disturbance in the air.

  ‘Nertha, wait!’ he called out.

  She stopped and looked back at him. ‘What’s the matter?’

  All he could think of to say was, ‘Be alert.’

  He moved quickly to her side and took her arm. ‘Be aware.’

  Her face filled with questions but she asked none of them. They continued upwards. The chill inside Vredech began to grow. It was not the chill of the mountains, nor was it the chill of fear, or the clammy iciness of death. Rather it was the cold of complete absence. Coldness of the heart from the absence of love, coldness of the mind from the absence of doubt, coldness of the spirit from the absence of awe at anything beyond itself. Coldness that was the very negation of life, that was the very opposite of the Great Heat from which all things were said to have come.

  And he recognized it. It was the coldness that had held him, searched him…

  Dismissed him!

  Anger welled up inside him as the memory returned of the judgement that had found his inadequacy, his worthlessness, so total, and left him nothing but fist-waving fury by way of rebuttal. Yet, in truth, why should he want the approval of such a fearful judge?

  ‘You’re looking grim.’ Nertha brought him back to the present.

  ‘Just remembering,’ he said.

  Nertha looked at him closely. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked.

  He smiled faintly. ‘I’m beginning to know your physician’s manner,’ he said, then, ‘Why do you ask?’

  Nertha’s nose curled. She was about to say, ‘No special reason,’ but instead she told the truth. ‘There’s an… unpleasantness about this place.’

  Vredech borrowed a phrase of their father’s. ‘Be specific,’ he said. They smiled at the old memory, but only briefly, as if such light-heartedness were too alien a bloom to flourish in this place.

  Nertha looked troubled. She put a hand to her face. ‘I can feel the breeze blowing, and yet I can’t. There’s a terrible stillness about this place.’

  Vredech glanced around at the sunlit vista of Canol Madret
h laid out before him. There was still no shifting haze that he could see. All was clear and bright. Yet something was amiss. Here, on a day like this, he should feel deeply relaxed, joyous even, with many petty perspectives righted by the massive and ancient presence of the mountains and sight of the tiny houses far below. But now, there was nothing. He did not know what he had expected to find up here, but it was not this cold emptiness that forbade all responses.

  ‘Let’s go on,’ he said, very softly but with a determination that made Nertha frown anxiously.

  They did not speak again until they were clambering over the jagged rocks at the very top of the mountain.

  Nertha folded her arms about herself and shivered. She looked at Vredech reproachfully. ‘It’s you and your damned superstitions,’ she said, offering an explanation before one was sought.

  Vredech shook his head. ‘No, it’s not,’ he said gently. ‘It’s whatever’s attached to this place. You feel it, too, don’t you, but you don’t want to talk about it because it makes no sense. Something’s reaching into you and laying a cold hand over…’ He paused. ‘… over everything in you that’s human. Perhaps even everything that’s living.’

  Nertha turned her head from side to side, as if trying to free herself from something. Then she grimaced and let out an almost animal growl. ‘Everything has a rational explanation. Nothing is to be feared, it is only to be understood.’

  ‘There is only the darkness where my ability to measure ends,’ Vredech said.

  Nertha’s angry expression changed to one of surprise. ‘Yes,’ she said.

  Vredech met her gaze and extended a slow embracing arm across the craggy summit. ‘Then there’s great darkness up here, for both of us,’ he said. ‘You can’t explain what you’re feeling, but you’re feeling it nonetheless, aren’t you?’

  ‘Hush!’ Nertha said sharply. ‘I need to think.’

  Holding out a hand as if to keep him at bay, she sat down and leaned back against a sloping rock, then closed her eyes. Vredech sat down nearby and rested his chin in his hand. He did not close his eyes. The last thing he wanted now was to be confined in his own darkness. He wanted to take in the familiar mountains and green valleys billowing away into the distance. He wanted every possible contact with this real familiar world, wanted to embed every least part of it into him as protection against the cold alien presence that was pervading the mountain.