Whistler [A sequel to The Chronicles of Hawklan]

by Roger Taylor

  He must not give way.

  Whatever it cost him, he must cling on to some semblance of sanity until he could get away from this place, these people, and ... and what?

  And think.

  And breathe.

  He was suffocating!

  The needs of his body asserted themselves, marshalling his rational mind as it was unable to do for itself. His free hand wrapped itself around his shaking wrist and tightened pitilessly, pressing it into his knee to still it absolutely. His chest expanded to draw in a cold, tight and massive breath through his nose.

  'What are you talking about?'

  He heard his voice echoing and hollow. The reality that was Cassraw's room solidified a little. Vredech drove his thumbnail into his wrist, using the pain to anchor the change before it could slither away again.

  'Are you all right?’ Both Cassraw and Dowinne were speaking.

  Vredech twisted his thumbnail harder. The dementia receded further, leaving him at the centre of a small pool of stillness. He felt like a solitary soldier, separated from his comrades but being ignored for the moment by the enemy. The two-voiced question arced towards him like falling spears. He had not now the resources to lie.

  'I'm not sure,’ he said, forcing his tight face into an uncertain smile, but unable to keep a mixture of anger and disdain from his voice. ‘I'm not sure I'm hearing correctly. What are you talking about? A great evil to the north—Canol Madreth a citadel! Armies!'

  Each word fastened him more securely into the present. But everything was changed. It was indeed as though he had slipped from a sane world into an insane one peopled with identical figures.

  Cassraw blinked as though he had been struck. ‘Take care, Vred,’ he said, with some menace. ‘Events are happening here which will not be opposed.'

  Vredech released his wrist and put his hand to his forehead. ‘I'm opposing nothing, Cassraw,’ he said. ‘I just don't understand what you're saying. What's happened to you? Can't you hear how such words will sound to your flock, to the Chapter?'

  Cassraw seemed to lose patience. ‘My flock will follow,’ he said starkly. ‘Indeed, as it follows, so will it grow. And the church, too, will follow.’ He stood up.

  Vredech was too uncertain of his legs to try standing, but he finally found his voice. ‘Cassraw, I came here to talk to you about your sermon, to find out what was troubling you so that I could be your true friend, should need arise. But this is beyond me.’ He forced himself to stand. ‘I shall say nothing about this meeting, but you must know that if you speak like this in public, then no one will be able to do anything for you.'

  Cassraw glanced down for a moment. When he looked up, he was smiling. It was a warm, understanding expression, quite free from the glinting self-aware certainty of the deranged. Vredech looked at him unhappily, his doubts about himself seeping back. Cassraw took his arm. ‘You're quite right, Vred,’ he said. ‘I see that my new knowledge is too heady even for you, who knows me. I would not, in any event, have expressed myself so freely in public. But you are my old friend. You were on the mountain with me, and, despite your protestations, I feel that you, too, were touched, albeit less so than me. Like me, you have been chosen.'

  He looked directly at Vredech, his black eyes piercing, then nodded to himself before continuing. ‘I have much to do before I can speak thus to my flock and the church, but ...’ His face became both serious and sad. ‘Those who oppose what is to happen will be swept aside ... perhaps cruelly so. You must be with me, Vred, or you'll be one such and I won't be able to save you.'

  'Cassraw, for pity's sake listen to yourself,’ Vredech said softly.

  Cassraw raised a finger gently to his lips for silence. ‘You must be shown more than has been shown to the others,’ he said, almost whispering.

  Vredech searched his face.

  'Your drink is good?’ Cassraw said abruptly, smiling again.

  'Yes, it ... it is. Very good. As ever,’ Vredech stammered, caught unawares, but glad to grasp a simple commonplace again, not least because it was genuine praise. He nodded and smiled at Dowinne, who smiled back at him.

  'Look at it,’ Cassraw said. Vredech held up the glass, still half-full of Dowinne's dark red fruit drink and reflecting the light from the window. Cassraw touched the glass lightly with his fingertips.

  There was no sound, but Vredech felt his skin crawl as though he had just drawn a fingernail down a window-pane. And though nothing was to be seen, he felt too, the presence of something foul moving around him, something that did not belong.

  The word ‘abomination’ formed in his mind, but he had no time to speak, for even as he watched it, the liquid in the glass seemed to boil and then it was no longer red, but clear.

  His hand began to shake again. Cassraw gripped his wrist.

  'Drink it,’ he said.

  * * *

  Chapter 23

  'Party tricks!’ Nertha was almost spitting with rage. ‘The charlatan! And how could you be taken in like that?'

  'It was water!’ Vredech shouted, both embarrassed and indignant. ‘I don't know what happened, but I'm not a child, for pity's sake. I was taken in by nothing. I had the glass in my hand all the time. I'd drunk half the stuff. And don't tell me I can't recognize one of Dowinne's drinks. He barely touched the outside of the glass and it changed as I was watching it.’ He held his hand near to his face. ‘It was this faraway.'

  'I've seen street clowns in Tirfelden do more mysterious things,’ Nertha sneered.

  Vredech rounded on her furiously. ‘Damn it, Nertha! Shut up if you've nothing to say.’ Nertha's jaw came out and she clenched her fists menacingly, but Vredech pressed on. ‘You weren't there. You didn't see what happened. And you didn't feel what was happening. And you didn't see them. He's carrying Dowinne with him, somehow.'

  At the mention of Dowinne, Nertha curled her lip. ‘I wish I had been,’ she said viciously. ‘He wouldn't have tried anything like that with me there.'

  Vredech winced. ‘Nertha, please,’ he said, suddenly quiet. ‘I'm barely clinging on to my sanity, don't fight me.'

  Nertha put her arm around his shoulder. Her face was still grim and angry but her manner was softer. ‘There's nothing wrong with your sanity,’ she said. ‘I'm sorry I lost my temper. I can see the pain you're in. It's just difficult to stand by and listen to all this calmly. I'm not the physician I thought I was, it seems.'

  'Let's get out of here,’ Vredech said, almost desperately. ‘Let's just ride around the town ... to ... think. I don't want to be confined by anything.'

  Within minutes they were mounted and walking their horses out into the bright sunshine. Vredech let out a great breath, as though he had been holding it since his return from Cassraw's.

  'Do you feel any easier?’ Nertha asked after a while.

  'Freer, but no easier,’ Vredech answered.

  Nertha frowned. ‘What do you mean?'

  Vredech looked up into the bright blue sky. A few white clouds were floating leisurely by. ‘It's barely two months since those clouds came out of the north,’ he reflected. ‘Two months since Cassraw—and me, too, I suppose—had our strange visitations, but I can hardly remember what life was like before. So much has happened.’ He looked at Nertha. ‘Am I going mad, Nertha? Have I gone mad? Are you really there? Or am I somewhere else, someone else, dreaming all this?'

  Nertha looked distressed. She reached over and took his hand. ‘We've had this conversation before,’ she said. ‘I've told you there's nothing wrong with your mind, not while you've wit enough to know those questions can't be answered. And they can't, can they? I could put on my physician's manner and reassure you that all will be well, that of course you're you, and you're here. But nothing can stand that kind of scrutiny. It's like a child asking, “Why?” after everything you say.’ She smiled enticingly. ‘The question is not whether you exist, but whether such a question can exist if it can have no answer.

  Vredech did not respond to her gentle provocation, so sh
e shook him. ‘Not answerable, Allyn,’ she said forcefully. ‘So don't ask. And don't fret. You've no alternative but to accept what you see, here and now, as real, and to do what you've already decided to do: watch and listen. Something in that cloud affected both you and Cassraw. For the first time in your life you're dreaming ...’ She waved her extended hand in front of him as he turned to her sharply. ‘Or not, as the case may be,’ she added quickly. ‘Maybe you're going into other people's dreams, maybe visiting strange other realities. It's not important. It's all unanswerable. But whatever's happened to Cassraw, he's playing some wildly dangerous game that's likely to cause a great deal of trouble as well as costing him his career.'

  Vredech looked straight ahead. ‘The Whistler said that this ancient enemy of his was a priest, sowing disorder and discontent. That was before I heard Cassraw's sermon. He also said that this man had met a terrible foe, who had weakened him. Cassraw said that a great evil had arisen.’ He turned to Nertha. ‘And that was no trick for children,’ he said. ‘One of Dowinne's drinks was turned to water—but it wasn't just that which affected me. I told you. It was what I felt—as if something foul had suddenly been released into the room.'

  Nertha held his gaze. ‘Don't look to me for any answers, Allyn. All I can do is what I've just done: remind you of your own solution, to watch and listen. In a couple of days, Cassraw will be giving another sermon. I think perhaps the two of us should go and listen to him together, don't you?'

  Vredech nodded then clicked his horse forward into a trot. Nertha responded and they rode in silence for some time. Then she asked again, ‘Do you feel any easier now?'

  'Yes,’ Vredech replied, almost reluctantly. He looked at her earnestly. ‘I don't know what providence brought you here, Nertha, but I'd have been lost without you.'

  Nertha's brow furrowed and her mouth tightened into a prim line. ‘For pity's sake, Allyn, don't go solemn on me. I don't think I could cope with that.'

  Vredech smiled at the sight. ‘No, I don't suppose you could,’ he said. ‘But it's true all the same.'

  'It was House's letter that brought me,’ Nertha insisted tartly. ‘Nothing theological. That's what's got you in this mess.’ She pursed her lips and looked at him shrewdly. ‘I think I will play the physician for a moment. I don't want to hear any more about this business, not until after Cassraw's next sermon. I want to wander about the town with you, see what's changed, what's the same. Persecute one or two old friends with reminiscences. And if this weather lasts we can ride out into the country, get into the silence, right away from Privv's hysteria and Cassraw's dementia, right away from sterile debates and the smell of well-worn pews. Can we do that?'

  'How could I refuse such an alluring prospect?’ Vredech replied. He took her hand. ‘It's really ...'

  Nertha snatched her hand free and raised it warningly. ‘No solemnity, Allyn, I warn you, or I'll be tempted to take my crop to you.'

  Before Vredech could reply, Nertha reined her horse to a halt. ‘What's that?’ she said.

  Vredech stopped his own horse and, as soon as the clatter of hooves faded, another noise became apparent. It was faint, but quite definite.

  'Sounds like shouting,’ he said.

  'A lot of shouting,’ Nertha confirmed. ‘Come on.’ She turned her horse towards the sound and urged it into a trot.

  'This is taking us further into town,’ Vredech called out, as he caught up with her.

  'I do know where we're going. I've not been away that long,’ she shouted in reply.

  'I meant it'll be busy.'

  'I wonder what it is?’ Nertha said, waving him silent and craning forward as if that would help her make out the noise above the sound of the horses. Then she pulled her mount into a narrow, unevenly cobbled street. Tall terraced houses on either side threw the street into the shade and its steepness obliged the two riders to slow to a careful walk. Both were concentrating on their riding and neither spoke; the sole sound in the street was that of slithering, iron-shod hooves. The few people who were out and about paid them scant heed, although one or two of the older ones bowed respectfully when they saw that Vredech was a priest.

  About halfway down, the street turned sharply, bringing them into the sunlight once again and affording them a view over a large part of the town. The sound of the shouting seemed to be much closer now, trapped in some way by the chasm walls that the houses formed. There were several groups of residents standing about obviously discussing it and, as Vredech and Nertha passed, more people were emerging from their houses and beginning to drift down the hill. At the bottom, the street opened out to join a wide road that led directly to the centre of the town. Although the sound of the shouting was fainter here, there were more people, both on foot and on horseback, and the small trickle of folk who had acted as flank guards to the two riders spread out and dispersed into the general throng that was moving towards the source of the noise.

  Vredech and Nertha were tempted to trot their horses again, but the number of other riders and scurrying pedestrians prevented this. A rider pulled alongside Vredech and, made familiar by the unusual circumstance, asked, ‘What is it?'

  'I've no idea,’ Vredech replied. He waved a hand vaguely upwards. ‘We heard it from up on the top and ...'

  'I think it's coming from the PlasHein Square,’ Nertha interrupted him. She was pointing. They had come to a large junction from which led several roads, one of them in the direction of the PlasHein Square. It was not a wide one, the PlasHein being in one of the oldest parts of Troidmallos, and the crowd, arriving now from many directions and gathering speed as curiosity grew in proportion to the increasing noise, effectively filled it.

  For a moment, Vredech felt disorientated. Large gatherings were unusual in Troidmallos and some instinct was tugging at him to retreat.

  Unexpectedly, Nertha confirmed it. ‘This is not good,’ she said. ‘We mustn't get too close, there's going to be trouble.'

  Vredech frowned and, following a contrary whim, opposed her. ‘Nonsense,’ he said. ‘These people are Madren, not loud-mouthed Felden. Come on.’ And urged his horse forward.

  Nertha muttered something under her breath, and snatched at his arm as she caught up with him. ‘This is a mistake,’ she said angrily. As she was leaning over to him her horse shied a little, nearly unseating her. There were cries of alarm from the people immediately around her as the animal jigged sideways while she recovered control. ‘Look,’ she shouted at Vredech, her face flushed. ‘My horse has got more sense than you. Let's get back while we can. I've been in crowds like this before.'

  Vredech, bending forward to quieten his own horse, looked around. Apart from those who had been startled by Nertha's horse, the crowd seemed to be good-humoured, if a little excited, and dominated by curiosity. As was he. There was no harm here, surely? And in any event he was a Preaching Brother and that carried its own protection.

  'Don't be silly, what can possibly happen?’ he was saying when the noise coming from the PlasHein Square ahead suddenly rose in volume, drowning his words. He felt the whole crowd falter, and his horse began to tremble. He patted it and made soothing noises, then stood in his stirrups to see if he could identify the cause of the hubbub, which was continuing and growing noticeably angry.

  'What's happening, Brother?’ came various requests from around him.

  'It looks as if the square's completely full,’ he shouted. ‘But I've no idea why.'

  The high-pitched sound of a child's voice crying fearfully cut through him. Looking round, he could not see who it was, but he noticed a small eddy in the crowd nearby and had a brief glimpse of a woman's face, white with determination and anxiety, as she began moving against the direction of the crowd.

  There was another loud roar from the end of the street, and another ripple of movement through the mass of people. It was as though the crowd was no longer a collection of individuals, but had acquired a will of its own, quite separate from, and unaffected by, the will of those who formed
it. Vredech shivered and glanced round at Nertha. Her face was white and strained, and her eyes pleaded with him to leave this place.

  For a moment he hesitated, unwilling to appear fearful in the face of danger, especially in front of a woman. This reaction startled him. Not since he had been a youth had he felt foolishness like that—at least, not so strongly. It was followed by a surge of embarrassment and then one of alarm. If such long-hidden follies were being brought to the fore in him by this unusual coming together of so many people, what others were surfacing around him? Because it would be these, primitive and deep, that determined the will of the mass, not the more stabilizing attributes of adulthood.

  His mouth went dry.

  Well, at least he'd go no further forward, he decided, gritting his teeth and reining his horse to a stop. The people around him were now virtually motionless, and the noise that had lured them all there had also fallen. He looked ahead. The crowd resembled a field of dark corn, rippling to a breeze unfelt by the watcher. Here and there, other riders and one or two carriages stood tall and isolated, like strange weeds.

  'We must get out,’ Nertha whispered urgently, then she glanced behind her and swore. Vredech was shocked by this unexpected profanity, but he soon saw the cause. While those around and ahead of them had stopped moving, others were still entering the narrow street and the crowd behind was now almost as large and as dense as that in front. And it was still growing. It would not be possible for either of them to turn or back their horses. Nertha's fear leaked into him, and from him into his horse, which began to shift its feet restlessly. Cries of dismay and one or two protective blows from the immediate vicinity did little to quieten the animal and Vredech found himself trying to soothe both his neighbours and his horse.

  Mounted high above the assembly, just as he was when he preached, he did not hesitate to use his priestly authority. ‘Be quiet!’ he said, not too loudly, but slowly and with great force. ‘If you frighten the horses, we will not be able to control them and someone will be badly hurt. Start moving back out of the street, now. All of you.’ As he spoke he turned in his saddle and made a broad gesture to indicate his instruction to those who were out of earshot. ‘Whatever's going on here, it seems to have stopped, and we'll all find out about it sooner or later.’ Sternly he added some reproach. ‘Go home, go about your proper businesses.'