The young woman, now carried away by the idea of seeing a spectacle, then begged her aunt to provide them with a demonstration of her own mysterious talents. She quickly abandoned the idea after getting a scolding look from her aunt as her sole response. No one dared to ask questions.
Corenn took advantage of the free time by studying the lists of heirs, which she updated. Based on their collective memory, she drew and completed, as best she could, the genealogical trees of the seven Sages who survived the journey. She counted seventy-one individuals over three generations.
Of the seventy-one, she knew the fate of at least forty-nine: herself, Léti, Grigán, Bowbaq, and Rey were—by the grace of Eurydis—still alive. Forty-four others, according to Rey’s list and her own, had been assassinated by the Züu.
That left the fate of only twenty-two heirs uncertain, a number that grew slightly after accounting for a few individuals overlooked by her initial census. It certainly didn’t leave them with much hope for growth.
Logic told her that their enemy was one of those twenty-two or so names, but her intuition told her otherwise. Corenn was more anxious than any of her companions to land on the forgotten island.
“How can you navigate? It’s a crescent moon and there isn’t even a star in the sky!”
Even though Bowbaq spoke in a whisper, they could hear the anxiety in his voice. Yan, on the other hand, felt perfectly at ease: the sea was calm, the night still, and soon enough his curiosity would be satisfied, finally putting an end to these three long days spent waiting.
“It’s magic,” Grigán answered for the young man, who was at the helm. “I think of a place, and the path simply appears in my mind.”
“What?”
“All right, it isn’t magic. I owe it to this object: a Rominian compass. I haven’t shown it to you already?”
The warrior explained the principle of the instrument briefly; Bowbaq wasn’t reassured in the slightest.
“Are you sure it works? We’ve been on the water for a while now, and we still can’t see the island!”
“That’s good. That means the Züu can’t see us either.”
“Don’t worry,” Rey added. “We aren’t going to get lost at sea. Look at those distant lights over there. You see them?”
“Zélanos and his children. Lorelia’s lighthouses, in other words. As long as we can see them, we know where the coast is.”
“That’s at least a day’s sail away,” Yan commented.
“A day!” wailed the Northerner, terrified. “A day! We’re so far!”
“Is it your first time on a boat or something?” jibed the actor. “One might think it’s the first time you’ve seen the sea your whole life.”
“That’s not far from the truth, in fact,” Bowbaq explained. “You’re going to think it’s silly, but I have a dreadful fear of water. Especially now. You can’t see a thing!”
“Is that why you’ve never been to Ji before? And here I thought you just wanted to stay with the kids,” Corenn gently teased.
“Yes, that was part of it,” he mumbled.
“Then how do you explain the hundreds of pounds of fish you catch every year? Don’t they come from the water?”
“That’s not the same, my friend. You can trust a creek, a stream, or even a river. You’re never more than a few yards from shore, a few oar strokes and you’re there. Here, there’s no land in sight.”
“Mind you, you might be able to touch the bottom,” joked Rey. “Thirty feet, forty feet, what’s that to a big guy like you?”
“Forty feet! Forty feet deep!” the giant exclaimed, before resolutely sitting down on the floor of the boat.
Léti sat down next to him. She couldn’t find the right words to reassure him, but she didn’t like seeing her kind friend in such a state.
They floated onward in silence for some time. Finally, Grigán pointed toward a point in the darkness.
“There,” he said simply.
As they had planned, Léti silently lowered the sail while Yan, Rey, and Grigán took position with their bows; the others lay on the floor of the boat. They slowly drifted across the remaining distance.
The island emerged out of the darkness, at first a mass just a bit darker than the water; as they got closer, its contours became progressively more defined. The silence was complete, disturbed only by a playful colony of marine frogs.
“It looks quiet,” murmured the actor.
“Maybe,” Grigán answered tersely.
Yan couldn’t help adding, “But he wouldn’t bet his life on in it.”
He had long waited to pull that joke out of his comedic reserve. The warrior responded with nothing more than an impassive look out of the corner of his eye, whereas Léti, squeezed between Corenn and Bowbaq, burst out laughing, joined by Bowbaq and Corenn.
The boat scraped the sandy bottom before coming to a complete halt. Grigán waited a moment before giving Yan the signal. The boy responded by crawling overboard and wading toward the beach, covered by his friends’ bows. Rey followed and took position opposite Yan on the beach.
Finally, it was Grigán’s turn; he slipped right past them, penetrating further into the rocky landscape. He came back soon after, reassured, at least for the moment.
“All clear,” he instructed. “You can come ashore. Light the torches.”
Not a moment later, Bowbaq hopped into the water and dragged the massive boat to the beach, pulling Léti and Corenn along with it. He didn’t even seem to notice the incredible feat he had accomplished.
“Ground! At last, solid ground!” he exclaimed, relieved. “Are you sure we can’t wait until dawn to make the return trip?”
“Positive. We would be too visible from the coast.”
“Too bad.”
The giant walked off and placed his palms on a rock, as if to reassure himself of its solidity. He preferred even this dreary landscape to the sea.
Yan had been told that the island was somewhat austere, but he didn’t expect this. Apart from the small, bare beach they stood on, the landscape was nothing more than enormous blocks of rock. It was as if a somewhat lazy god had simply piled them on top of one another to create a new land.
It was quite small. A walk all the way around wouldn’t take more than four or five decidays. Assuming the entire coastline was passable, of course, which wasn’t the case.
“No one has touched the torches we left here on our last visit,” Grigán said, leaning to look behind a pile of rocks. “Do you think that’s a good sign, Lady Corenn?”
“Unfortunately, we can’t conclude a whole lot from it. Aside from those present, it appears that nothing has changed for three years.”
“Say, that’s the entrance to the famous labyrinth, isn’t it?” Rey pointed to a sandy passage between two large boulders.
“How did you guess?” asked Corenn.
“Grigán’s footprints. He scouted ahead before coming back to join us on the beach.”
“Good deduction,” grunted the warrior. “And according to you, which way should we go next?”
“You’re the guide. Guide us. I suggest we get this over with as quickly as possible. I’m anxious to finally know this stupid secret that ruined my family.”
“You mustn’t say that,” scolded Léti.
More than the others, she found a certain charm in the actor. She thought his cheerful disposition and his character made him very likable. Except when he spoke like that about the Sages and the ancestors. In her eyes, they were sacred, especially now that the majority of them were dead. To disrespect their legacy was like...like insulting and forswearing Eurydis. It was wrong.
“All right,” began Corenn. “I think it’s time.”
Everyone gathered before her and Grigán, attentive and impatient.
“First of all, although I trust each and every one of you, you are going to have to swear an oath.”
“Come on now,” moaned Rey. “Is this whole ceremony really necessary? Can’t we just go s
ee what’s going on instead? We might miss it.”
“We still have time,” Grigán grunted. “And anyone who doesn’t accept the oath won’t come. Period.”
“All right, then. I promise to respect and assume all obligations, restraints, duties, and responsibilities you wish,” he muttered insolently. “Can we go now?”
Corenn answered calmly for Grigán, “Reyan, that’s not what we’re asking of you. The oath doesn’t have any value in and of itself, since we’ll have no means to guarantee that it will be upheld. It’s just a brief moment of seriousness before the coming excitement, a moment of reflection to help you realize the gravity of the situation, and the importance of your silence. Do you understand?”
The actor reflected in silence for a moment.
“Corenn, my grandmother didn’t lie to me about you,” he declared. “You have a gift for getting what you want from people which would make a Lorelien jeweler green with envy. You’ve got me. I’ll listen.”
Corenn nodded with a smile. Then, she began her “oath,” in a serious and didactic tone.
“The things we’re going to show you are unknown to most people, and it must remain that way, as ordained by the will of our ancestors. Since them, for over a century, each generation has kept the secret, and it will be up to you to do the same in the years to come.”
“Excuse me for interrupting, Corenn,” Bowbaq said, “but there’s something I’ve never understood and I think now’s the time to ask. If it’s a secret, why didn’t it die with our ancestors? Why are you, in turn, passing it on to us?”
She reflected for a moment before answering.
“Because it’s too heavy for our shoulders. As it was for our ancestors. They judged it advisable to share part of it with their family members, as I am now doing with Léti. Personally, I also believe that, in some respect, we’ve become the guardians of the secret of Ji, even if we don’t fully grasp all of its implications. Do you understand?”
“I have an objection,” Rey chimed in. “Though it’s far, very far, from my intention to exclude our friend Yan, he isn’t one of us. Does that mean you’re breaking your oath?”
“I trust him more than I do some others here,” said Grigán, acidly.
“Yan is, or will someday be, part of the family,” appended Corenn. “This isn’t a problem. But we can take a vote—”
“It isn’t worth the trouble,” Rey interrupted. “It was just a theoretical question.”
Yan intentionally kept himself out of it. He was dying to satisfy his curiosity, and therefore was very happy to hear the various statements his friends made on his behalf. Especially Corenn’s. Was she thinking of a Union between him and Léti? Or was he imagining things again?
Corenn continued. “You must promise to keep silent about what you’re about to see. Even in the face of suffering, dishonor, loneliness. Death. You will only talk of it with very close family members or other heirs. Take the time to consider, and if you agree, simply say so.”
“I agree to everything,” Rey said immediately.
Yan did as he was asked, closing his eyes, and reflecting in silence on Corenn’s words and their implications.
“I agree,” he said finally.
Everyone turned to Léti, who remained silent.
The young woman was terrified. She had been waiting impatiently for this moment since she was a young girl. All her life, she had wanted to share in the secret of her ancestors and become a full member of the group. But now that the day had come, she hesitated.
Everyone who went there came back sad.
And she had already endured her share of suffering.
Was the secret more beautiful as it was—unknown?
“Léti?”
The young woman opened her eyes to her aunt’s call.
She decided impulsively. “I agree,” she said, wishing she had said it with more conviction.
“Good,” concluded Grigán. “Let’s go. I ask that you all make as little noise as possible, and of course that goes for certain loudmouths too.”
“Can I let out a cry of pain if I fall?” Rey asked sourly.
“Only if you really, really hurt yourself,” shot back Grigán in the same tone. “That would be delightful.”
With Grigán at the front of the column, they disappeared through the narrow passage, just as Nol the Strange had done more than a century before. Rey walked behind Grigán, followed by Léti, and then Corenn and Bowbaq. Yan brought up the rear.
His heart was hammering in his chest. It was all very exciting. Much more so than his adventure in Berce—this time he wasn’t alone. His mind was galvanized as never before.
Even the most insignificant things seemed strange. The dancing torchlight on the rocks. The distorted echoes of every sound. The odd arrangement of gigantic blocks that made the whole landscape feel like a real labyrinth.
After about a centiday of this silent walking, Grigán led the group inside a cave. Yan held his breath, certain they were nearing their destination.
“Are we here?” whispered Rey.
“No. Be quiet.”
After a short time underground, they emerged from the natural shelter through a small opening where they had to crouch to pass through—practically a crawl for Bowbaq.
Once through, the warrior made them wait for a moment as he watched the small exit, his bow drawn. This must have been some sort of standard procedure for him, a precaution to foil anyone’s attempts at following them, because Grigán quickly gave the order to carry forward again as if nothing had happened.
More focused on watching the landscape than memorizing their path, Yan was already lost. They had changed directions at least twenty times, ignoring passages on the right and left that nevertheless seemed to be going in the same direction. If he had to, he might be able to find his way back to the beach, but definitely not using the same path.
An encounter with a large, slavering turtle forced them to make a further detour. They had disturbed the reptile right as it was laying eggs, and it showed them just how menacing a vulture turtle can be. Though it was slow just like its brethren, its powerful jaws were infamous, and Grigán preferred to turn the group around rather than risk a perilous crossing.
“Maybe Bowbaq could have negotiated our passage?” Rey muttered. “Maybe we could have even asked for directions?”
“It wouldn’t have worked,” the giant objected seriously. “It only works with mammals.”
“Too bad. Maybe we’ll come across some stray goat or cow and have a chat with it.”
“That’s enough, you two!” Grigán said. “A bit of silence, please!”
“You know,” Rey continued brazenly, “these discretionary measures are completely useless so long as we keep these torches lit.”
“That’s for me to judge. So long as you’re with us, you will do as we do.”
“You’re the boss, boss. Let’s hope that if some guy’s hiding over there he’s blind rather than deaf.”
Grigán chose not to respond. He had already given up discussing anything with the actor, who was obviously bent on provoking him.
If he were alone, of course he would have gone without the torch. But the whole lot of them groping their way forward—clearly they’d make more noise than a red pig in heat. It seemed childish. Sometimes he got the feeling that no one made any effort to understand him.
“Wait for me here. Silently, if possible,” he added, giving Rey a gimlet eye.
They watched as he crept forward. Bowbaq thought to himself that Grigán must have an excellent reason for such caution. The warrior didn’t even bring his torch.
He came back presently, via another path that adjoined theirs right behind Yan, who jumped at his arrival.
“I didn’t see anything,” he said to Corenn. “Everything looks normal.”
“I’m tempted to say that’s a shame,” she responded. “It could have been our first step toward finding an answer.”
“There’s still hope. Perha
ps later. Once it’s occurred, which shouldn’t be long, for that matter. Let’s make haste.”
They all trekked onward after the tireless warrior, their curiosity freshly fueled. He led them straight toward another cave, which wasn’t marked in any particular way to distinguish it from the one they had already passed through, or the others they had spotted.
The entryway looked like a natural arch, which opened up into a small room. It was only after they had covered almost the entire length of the room that a sort of gradually descending hallway appeared off to the right.
“This must be it,” Rey declared. “There are traces of soot on the rocks. The torches...”
“Good catch, Reyan. I had never thought of that. We’ll have to remember to clean that up.”
“If we still get the chance,” Grigán muttered.
He had definitively given up trying to keep the undisciplined members of his little group quiet. It was beyond his control.
Everyone’s excitement level was at its peak. Yan wondered which was louder, the sound of his steps or his heartbeat. Léti feared a morbid discovery, and the descent had hardly reassured her. Bowbaq felt very uneasy, having a difficult time being confined underground. The sound of water below and the drops streaming down the walls heightened his anxiety. Rey let his imagination wander about what they were going to find...this one thing that was so important to every one of their lives, but that they didn’t know.
“I hope we won’t have to swim,” Bowbaq grumbled. “If we do, don’t count on me. I’ll turn right around.”
“Nothing to fear. There’s a chance you might get your feet a little wet, that’s all.”
The long slope ended at the edge of an underground lake, which was large enough that the opposite bank disappeared in the darkness. Grigán waited until everyone was together.
“It’s beautiful,” Léti said baldly, relieved to find nothing more frightening.
Six Heirs Page 22
