by Hugh Cook
Her question was soon answered, because when they were still one day short of the lake, they ran into a party of a dozen Melski. Recognising one of the females, Wadu threw himself forward with a scream of delight. He was picked up and comforted, and immediately started babbling away in his own language. The adults were so busy talking themselves that it was some time before Yen Olass could get a translation.
'Among other things.' said Hor-hor-hurulg-murg, 'he says you're a nice creature even if you are all covered in fur.’
The adult Melski brought the news from Lake Armansis. About two hundred attackers from the west, probably Orfus pirates from the Greater Teeth, had come over the Razorwind Pass, wiping out the two Galish convoys camped on the western shores of the lake. The pirates were now building a fort, as if they meant to stay. Some Melski had been killed by the pirates; this group had thought it safest to head south. Hor-hor-hurulg-murg disabused them of that notion.
The dozen Melski joined the north-going fugitives and kept pace with them to Lake Armansis. They camped near the lake, planning to cross the river in the morning and skirt around the eastern shores, picking up the river again at the northern end.
By morning, Draven had disappeared. The sea captain, Occam, was also missing. Guessing that these two had headed for the pirate camp, the party crossed the river -- which meant a hair-raising trip across a series of one-log bridges spanning the gaps between huge water-cleaving rocks -- and started their journey round the eastern side of the lake. Haveros, who had more than half-expected Draven to flee to the pirates, did not expect a pirate attack, doubting that men who had just looted two merchant convoys would mount an expedition to capture a tiny poverty-stricken group like their own.
The person most upset was the woman Jalamex, for Draven had abandoned her without so much as a goodbye.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
With escape to the west cut off, Yen Olass would have liked to stay with the Melski, but she was a minority of one, The big, green animals made the others uneasy, and, as Haveros said, 'Once they start killing humans, there's no telling where they'll stop.' Even Resbit allowed herself to be persuaded by that argument. So, when the river forked north of Lake Armansis, the humans chose the westerly branch while the Melski took the easterly.
'Your way takes you into the Valley of Forgotten Dreams,' said Hor-hor-hurulg-murg. 'By tradition, for us it is a forbidden place. The first ten leagues are said to be safe. Beyond that -- death.’
They thanked him. They only wanted a place to hide until pirates, soldiers and the wizards of Castle Vaunting had fought out their battles, and, with any luck, destroyed each other. The valley, with its rough-running river of rapids and waterfalls, its rugged banks and its evergreen forests (trees with leaves of a dark, dark green, so dark it was almost black -- entirely unlike the deciduous growth of the south) should offer them refuge.
About five leagues up the valley, they came to a place with a little flat land on either side of the river, which surged past, deep and narrow, then foamed into wide and shallow rapids.
'This will do,' said Haveros. 'We won't find anywhere better.’
Yen Olass, who refused to live in a nameless place, called it Nightcaps, which sounded a good name for a wild place in the back of beyond. With Haveros supervising them, they built lean-to shelters, sharpened sticks and dug latrines, hauled rotten logs out of the forest and broke them up for firewood, made bird snares and fish traps, and booby-trapped animal tracks with pits and deadfalls. Then they tore apart the local vegetation, sampling leaves, fern shoots, bark, pith, vines, pulped roots and fungus growths.
After ten days, they had settled in properly, and were beginning to think of curing hides and making extra clothing. But all such plans ended when three exhausted pirates came stumbling into Nightcaps, bringing the news that Chonjara and his men were close behind them.
The pirates were their old friend Draven, a vicious little man called Toyd, and a man named Mellicks who was short-sighted and forever squinting to try and make sure of his footing. After hearing a brief account of how Chonjara's men had attacked the pirates at Lake Armansis, and were patrolling the forest to cut off retreat to the west, Haveros ordered everyone to break camp and move out.
Yen Olass and Resbit were most reluctant to go. They had worked hard on their lean-to, sealing off every draught and leak. Though Resbit's pregnancy was in its early stages, they had been talking baby clothes. Yen Olass had been designing a trap to kill bush rats for a supply of small, soft, furry skins; as Yen Olass knew next to nothing about making clothes, Resbit had promised to show her how it was done. And now they had to leave everything and run.
Just before they pulled out, Haveros disabled all the snares, deadfalls and pits. None was placed where it might catch any of Chonjara's men, and his hunting ethic did not allow him to kill for no reason, or, worse, to leave disabled animals to die slowly in the forest.
Haveros forced the pace up the river. They had fed reasonably well over the past few days, and carried food for three days. All blisters from their earlier marches had healed, except in the case of the Princess Quenerain, who still had trouble with her feet. She was reluctant to march, and begged Haveros to try and negotiate with Chonjara.
'We both know his arguments,' said Haveros, and lightly touched a small scar on her face where a stone had hit her.
This logic did not convince Quenerain, who argued with Haveros for hours at the end of the first march; argument ended when he lost his temper and hit her, and she sobbed herself to sleep.
Haveros put his trust in speed. He was not inclined to slink away into the hills and hide. They could only survive in this forest if they were free to fish the river, tear down the vegetation, set hunting traps, and range widely to hunt. They could not do this if they were hulkering in the hills, trying to make themselves invisible. So they would run north, until their food ran out. And then? Then they would establish themselves on some height overlooking the river, and, once Chonjara's men went marching past, Haveros and his party would double back, make for Lake Armansis, follow the river south, then try and slip away to the east, to Skua.
To Haveros, it was all a bit of a game, even though he was playing with his own life. His people, who were not skilled woodsmen, left trail-signs Chonjara's men would be able to follow easily. Haveros supplemented these by breaking the occasional branch now and then. He wanted to lead Chonjara as far into the Penvash Peninsula as possible, knowing that every day deeper would stretch Chonjara's supply lines and increase the likelihood of Chonjara finding his retreat south cut off by the Melski when he got back to Lake Armansis. If the Princess Quenerain had not been so distressed and distressing, Haveros would actually have started to enjoy himself.
* * *
When they camped at the end of their first march north, Draven -- a professional opportunist -- tried for Jalamex. But she had taken refuge in the shelter of a fallen log, together with Haveros and Quenerain. She refused to respond to Draven's whispers, and, when he raised his voice, he woke Haveros, who treated him to the full force of that rich, magnificent, eloquent obscenity known only to mule drivers, professional soldiers and low-class whores.
Haveros, his oratory tapering off toward the end, addressed Draven rather more mildly than he had been, saying:
'So drag your cock back to its slime-pit, you ignorant sack of arseholes.’
And Draven, awed by his fury, complied.
As Draven retreated, the Princess Quenerain mocked him; she used some words which were quite obscene. She had her own small gift for languages; she knew Ordhar, and had learnt enough Galish to make herself objectionable. Haveros shut her up: swearing was a man's prerogative.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Early the next day, it began to rain. As they marched, steep banks forced them into the river, where they waded knee-deep; few things are more disgusting than soaking wet boots just after breakfast, but nobody complained.
Further on, the river widened, though the bank
s were still high; they splashed through shallow water and across stones and shingle. The way ahead was blocked by two shoulders of rock, each ten times the height of a man. These shoulders flanked a narrow gorge where water thrashed over boulders. In places, the gorge was scarcely-wide enough for swordplay.
The gorge ran for only thirty horse-lengths, but it was a formidable obstacle. They were soaked by the time they had clawed upstream against the battering water. The river widened again; on the eastern side, a stream descended steeply between high V-shaped banks.
They rested briefly, then Haveros urged them on again. The banks drew in after a few more horse-lengths, and steepened, forcing them to wade through water.
Through wavering water pocked by rain, Yen Olass saw a blurred yet gleaming fist of green. She plunged her arm into the water and seized it. Her catch was a perfect sphere of stone, heavy, yet transparent. Multicoloured stars shone within its misty green: solitary luminaries, constellations and entire galaxies.
She was still admiring her find when she realized everyone else had frozen. A wark was coming down the river. The big, lumbering bear advanced with a leisured, measured gait, as if it owned the world -- which, as far as they were concerned, was fair enough, as they were hardly going to dispute ownership.
Carefully, Haveros stooped down and picked up a rock. The bear paused, and turned this way and that, as if sniffing the air. With a sudden jerk of his body, Haveros threw the rock. It sailed overhead to land with a splash, upstream of the bear. The animal wheeled. Draven and Haveros waded to the sides of the river and hauled themselves out, clinging onto trees. Yen Olass tucked her stone globe into one of the inner pockets of her weather jacket.
The wark turned back downstream. Everyone still in the river broke and ran for the trees. The banks were almost sheer, but terrain yielded to desperation. Confused by the sudden flurry of noise, the bear peered downstream. Like all animals of its kind, it was short-sighted. And unpredictable. As it hesitated, the men drew weapons and backed up against trees. The bear proceeded, coming downstream through the hissing rain.
Yen Olass picked up a stick. If the wark came too close, she would wallop it over the nose. Then it would either retreat or tear her apart. She should have been terrified, but instead she was fascinated. She had never seen such a huge animal so close up. She watched as it went by, almost close enough to touch. She imagined riding on it, clutching great handfuls of fur.
When the bear had gone past, Yen Olass slid down the bank and waded into the river, careless of the cold water, and watched the bear disappearing downstream toward the gorge. Her eyes were wide with excitement.
'You like bears, do you?' said Haveros.
Yen Olass, to her consternation, blushed. She was ashamed that he knew she was entranced by a big, furry animal; she was much too old for that.
'Maybe,' said Yen Olass.
'Then remember this,' said Haveros. 'Bears don't necessarily like you.’
Yen Olass bowed her head slightly, accepting his rebuke. As a child of the wastelands of Monogail, she knew how to accept a warning intended to help her survive. This was true wilderness: unmapped, uninhabited and unforgiving.
Survival demanded unrelenting concentration. Nevertheless, Yen Olass was glad she had seen the bear.
And glad that she had her star-filled stone. She was convinced it was very rare and very valuable. She had never seen anything like it. They would not be travelling up the river forever; in the Ravlish Lands or some other civilized territory, the globe would surely be worth a fortune.
A little further upstream, the travellers found a strange construction by the riverside: a fiat-topped mushroom made of the same star-burning stone. They all gathered round it. Yen Olass touched it gingerly; it was cold, and twice her height. She picked up a rock and started hammering it, trying to break some off. She was convinced that now was her chance to get really, really rich. But the mushroom refused to chip, break or shatter.
'Having fun?' said the deserter Saquarius.
'Shut up,' said Haveros, who did not like deserters on principle. 'Or I'll have fun with your face.’
Saquarius turned on him.
'I bet On the ugly one,' said the pirate Toyd.
'Which one's that?' said Draven.
They laughed. The two Estar boys, Shant and Mation, sniggered in sympathy, not because they were amused but because they wanted to take on themselves something of the glory of the rough-striding pirates. Haveros and Saquarius turned on them.
'Soldiers against pirates?' said Yen Olass. 'Chonjara would love this.’
'He'd place his bets at random,' said Quenerain. 'It'd be all the same to him.’
Shant made a joke in his native Estral, and Mation laughed. Haveros, who had enough Estral to know the comment was obscene, cuffed him round the head.
'Enough of this,' said Draven. 'Let's have a look at this thing. Up you go, Yen Olass.’
'I can't!' said Yen Olass. 'It's much too high.’
But Haveros and Draven boosted her up, making a rising step out of their linked hands. Yen Olass clambered onto the top, which was slippery and solid. And somewhat curved. She wondered if it was a stone phallus, the relic of some ancient fertility rite. It glistened in the streaming rain.
'What can you see?' said Draven.
'Nothing much,' said Yen Olass. 'There's not much of a view. Except ... if you really want to know, you're losing your hair.’
Draven clapped his hand to his head, then withdrew it, looking partly angry, partly sheepish. Yen Olass laughed.
'Stop clowning around,' said Haveros. 'Can you get inside?’
'No,' said Yen Olass.
'Can you get it inside youself?' said Quenerain. 'Who knows?' said Yen Olass. 'What's your expert opinion?’
'You'd have more of a chance with that thing than you would with a man,' said the princess. 'You'd have to pay a man to do as much as rape you.’
'I don't know about that,' said Yen Olass, looking down on her. 'I had to fight off half the army once. Not like you, spreading your legs and--’
'That's enough, both of you,' said Haveros, sharply.
'Did you hear the way she spoke to me?' said Quenerain. 'The ugly little strumpet ought to have her scalp ripped off.’
'Any more trouble and I'll batter the pair of you,' said Haveros.
He was the leader. He was ashamed that he had dishonoured his leadership by almost coming to blows with Saquarius, embarrassed that two women had used their diplomacy to prevent the fight, and annoyed that those same two women should now start arguing with each other for no reason at all. Quenerain was his lover, but he was in no mood to grant her special favours, even so. The combination of shame, embarrassment and irritation made him fierce.
'Let's horse horse,' said Haveros, in Eparget. Then, this 222
pungent saying being entirely untranslatable, he said in Galish: 'Get going.' Then, in Estral, pointing the two boys up the river: 'Go!' Then, to Yen Olass: 'Get yourself down from there.’
'How?' said Yen Olass.
'Jump,' said Draven. 'We can pick up the pieces.' Yen Olass snorted. She grabbed hold of an overhead branch.
'Careful,' said Resbit.
'Tree,' said Yen Olass. 'Drop me in the dirt and you'll get yourself ringbarked.’
She had just learnt about ringbarking in the last few days, from the soldier Saquarius, of all people.
She swung herself down, hand over hand, sprays of raindrops shaking loose as the branch lurched beneath her weight. Then she dropped the last little bit, and brushed a few fragments of bark from her hands.
'Onward,' said Haveros.
And on they went. They were so wet by now that they hardly noticed when the rain eased. Just before they halted to rest at mid-morning, the rain stopped, but the sky was still encumbered by everlast cloud. They had no food to spare for a snack; instead, they squatted amidst the trees, resting in silence.
Yen Olass watched Jalamex kneading water from Quenerain's hair. The princess
liked to have people waiting on her, and had more or less managed to coerce Jalamex into being her servant. She had tried to get Yen Olass to do things for her, too -- 'Grease my boots, serf -- but had failed. Yen Olass took the attitude that here they were all equal, fugitives struggling to preserve their lives. So she had refused the princess -- but saw no need for Quenerain to be rude to her. Surely Quenerain could have tried to make friends. At times, Yen Olass had almost liked her.
Quenerain saw Yen Olass watching her, and gave her a look which meant 'One day I'll have you underfoot.' Yen Olass put her little finger to her tongue, which in Gendormargensis was the ultimate gesture of contempt; the princess looked away, pretending she had not seen.
At that moment, Yen Olass felt very homesick. She remembered Gendormargensis and her room in tooth 44, Moon Stallion Strait. She remembered her cat Lefrey. She had been so comfortable there. But that was long ago and far away. Now she was here, in the evergreen forest north of Lake Armansis, squatting on a soggy mass of decaying leaves which, in time, would mulch down to earth. No sound but the talk of the river and the drip-drop-thrup of water filtering down through leaves. That's another thing about trees: when the sky stops raining, the trees don't.
