Once she was out of earshot, he spoke softly to Menders.
“Feel up to coming back to my office? It’s warm.”
Menders rose with his help and hobbled down the hallway. Every joint ached.
“Shirt off,” Franz ordered briskly when the office door was closed.
“What are you on about?” Menders asked.
“I’m checking your heart and lungs. Take a look in the mirror and you’ll see why,” Franz said, rummaging in his bag.
Menders was shocked when he saw himself. He was ashen, his lips blue and purple, his eyes red-rimmed.
“Grahl’s teeth,” he muttered. Franz gave his chest a good sounding.
“It all still works, but take it easy for a day or so. Those weak lungs of yours are rattling a bit and you’ve had a shock,” Franz said as Menders put his shirt on again.
“I didn’t realize you knew about my lungs,” Menders said quietly.
“I can hear them, you fool,” Franz snapped, tapping the framed medical diploma hanging on the wall. “I do know the symptoms. You’re wise not to smoke. Give you much trouble, do they?”
“Not since I went to military school and got in good condition,” Menders answered. “They only make themselves known with a lot of exertion.”
“Well, you need to rest until I give you leave to return to normal activity.”
“Believe me, I don’t feel inclined to do anything else,” Menders answered. “I feel worse than I did after the day we dug through twenty feet of snow.”
As he rose, he saw that there were three lanterns on the doctor’s office windowsill.
“Trying to burn the place down?” Menders jibed, pointing to them.
“You didn’t notice? They’re in every window of the house. We lit every lamp, candle and lantern we could find and put them in the front windows so you could see your way home… what? Sit down!”
Menders felt Franz pushing his head down to his knees and went limp, feeling his heart pounding with fear while his head spun. It took several minutes for him to be able to sit up and speak.
“I never saw them,” he whispered. “I was right next to the house before I saw it, and I couldn’t see any light at all. Right by the front windows – and I never saw any light. The snow was that thick and blowing that hard.”
Franz squeezed his shoulder, hard. “You’re a lucky man,” was all he said.
The White Beast was a merciless foe.
(19)
Thrun
Katrin and Hemmett were in the process of defending their snow castle from vicious brigands. Hemmett was in command.
“Fire on these men coming on the left!” he roared. Katrin rushed to one side and scooped up snow, making snowballs as fast as she could. She flung them out the window.
“We’ve repelled them!” he hollered, climbing down from his perch on the icy wall of the structure. “Hoorah!”
Katrin cheered too, panting for breath. It had been a terrible battle and she was worn out. It had been much easier to scoop up the snow when they still had the chamberpots they’d taken from the bedrooms, but Zelia had come out and depleted their war machinery while delivering a severe scolding. Katrin wondered why. The chamberpots were clean and no-one really used them because everyone used the privies.
“Next time I’m the King, Bumpy,” Katrin panted.
“You can’t be the King, you’re a girl,” His Majesty reasoned.
“Then I’ll be the Captain. You just stand up there and tell me what to do and I do all the fighting and get all hot.”
“I’m sorry, Willow,” Hemmett said regretfully, pulling off her wool cap and smoothing her hair, which was straggling into her face after the rigors of battle. “Too bad we don’t have our scoopers any more.”
“I’m tired of playing war anyway.”
“Let’s ride on the sled then.”
“No, I’m hot and we have to climb up.” Katrin looked around. The yard had been white for so long now that she’d almost forgotten what it looked like when it was green. A huge frozen drift ran down from the roof of the house on one side, and they used it for sledding. It seemed funny, but there was so much packed snow on the ground that they were walking up higher than the tops of the shrubs and hedges.
It had finally stopped snowing all the time and now it was very cold. Every day the sky was blue and it seemed to be higher than it was in the summer. The sun seemed smaller and far away, like a lantern light in the distance.
Katrin took her cap back from Hemmett and tugged it on.
“Well I want to sled,” Hemmett said.
“I don’t.”
“I do! I’m older! I was alive before you were born!”
“So go and sled by yourself,” Katrin announced. “I fought all those bad men, I’m too tired to go climbing up there!”
Hemmett grabbed the rope of their sled and went stomping up the slope of the drift. As he turned around at the top, he stopped and shaded his eyes with his hand.
“There’s someone on the road,” he said.
“Is it Mister Spaltz?” Tiredness forgotten, Katrin toiled upward to stand by him.
It certainly wasn’t Mister Spaltz.
It was a great many people – and animals like nothing Katrin and Hemmett had ever seen. There were farlins, like Demon, but the other animals looked like giant mountains of hair. They were dark, lumbering shapes against the snow with their breath steaming like train engines. They hauled tall brightly colored carts piled high with rolls of cloth and other bundles. The sound of heavy bells could be heard across the snow.
“Let’s go see!” Hemmett yelled. Forgetting all admonitions about approaching strangers, both children jumped on the sled and flew down the slope, then ran toward the road.
An enormous sound made them stop in their tracks. It was louder than the biggest thunderclap. It vibrated and echoed across the yard and forest and Katrin could hear icicles crashing off the house and trees. Then there was another sound, low and drawn out, almost so low you couldn’t hear it. It made the snow under their feet shake. Hemmett covered his ears but Katrin was fascinated.
They saw that the travelers were turning and coming up the entrance road to the house. They were playing strange music, with bells ringing, drums pounding, more of the low droning sound and smaller crashing sounds like the first enormous sound.
She could see the people now. They were big! Bigger even than Lucen. They wore brightly colored clothing covered with embroidery and flashing metal buttons, lots of jewelry and huge hats ringed with fur. Their boots were huge too, with turned up toes, fur tops and more embroidery. They walked in time to the wild music with a measured, swaggering stride.
Katrin and Hemmett stared, mesmerized. The procession drew nearer and they saw one man who was even bigger than the other big people.
He wore a long gown of many colors, covered with embroidery and flashing spangles. His belt buckle was the size of a dinner plate, all loops of metal that twisted around and under themselves. Strands of bells and many knives hung from the belt. His boots flashed with silver. He had a beard, moustache and long dark hair like Menders but his hair hung all the way to his ankles. His eyes were very dark and turned upwards. Instead of being round, they were shaped like almonds – and they were looking directly at Katrin.
He smiled, a big smile full of large white teeth.
“I am Tharak Karak a’a’ Thrun, Highest Chieftain of the Thrun,” he said.
Katrin curtseyed as Menders had taught her to do.
“I am Princess Katrin Morghenna of Mordania,” she answered, smiling up at him.
Tharak Karak bowed. Then he reached out and took off her cap – and smiled when he saw her hair.
He picked Katrin up and tossed her high, like Menders used to do before she grew too big, then held her high above his head for the people behind him to see. She could hear Hemmett yelling for Tharak Karak to put her down but the big man paid no mind. He called out something loudly in words she didn’t understand a
nd then looked up at her.
“Light Of The Winter Sun,” he grinned, holding her high over his head, while the crowd chorused a mighty cheer.
***
Menders and Lucen were in the middle of turning a mattress at Zelia’s direction when the sound of an enormous gong shook the windows. It was followed by the shattering crash of scores of icicles falling from the roof eaves. Then came the long low drone of the garzan, the deep-toned, hand-beaten bronze horns Menders remembered from his boyhood.
“It’s the Thrun!” he said.
“Katrin is running over to them!” Lucen cried from the window.
“They won’t hurt her.”
Menders dashed to the front door, throwing it open to see a huge Thrun man holding Katrin up over his head. The crowd of Thrun roared its approval.
“I don’t believe it!” Menders gasped. “Not only are they Thrun but I know this chieftain!”
Franz appeared behind them, breathless and holding a large rifle in his hands.
“Who in the gods’ names are they? Some kind of savages? Are we being attacked?” Franz asked excitedly.
“It’s all right, they’re friendly,” Menders replied, trying not to laugh at the good doctor’s alarm and awkwardly handled weapon.
“Menders says he knows them,” Lucen added.
“Knows them!” Franz blustered. “Knows them my arse! I mean… just look at them, they didn’t pop by on the bloody train from Erdhan! And they’ve got Katrin!”
“It’s all right,” Menders said firmly. “Franz, please put that damned rifle away before you kill someone and we’ll go meet them.” He grabbed his greatcoat from the hall rack and led the procession out the door.
The large Thrun holding Katrin bellowed in Thrun and the crowd roared again. Then he turned toward the house, saw Menders approaching and roared “Magic In The Eyes!” in Mordanian.
Hemmett came running toward Menders.
“He’s got Katrin!” the little boy yelled anxiously. “I tried to protect her but there are too many of them!”
“It’s all right,” Menders assured him, taking his hand. “Come on, you’ll see. He’s an old friend.”
Menders and Hemmett reached the Thrun, who were smiling up at Katrin and applauding, cooing, waving. Lucen and Franz came along at a cautious distance. Katrin looked a bit startled, but not frightened. She was certainly secure, being held aloft by the huge hands of the Chieftain.
The enormous man lowered Katrin to the ground. Menders walked across the last few feet of snow between them, looked up and tipped his glasses slightly so the Chieftain could see his eyes clearly.
“Tharak Karak, my brother,” he said in wonder.
They gripped forearms and then Menders was smothered in a strong embrace.
“These are prophesied times,” Tharak said softly, releasing him. He looked down at Hemmett, who was standing back shyly, clinging to the skirt of Menders’ coat. Tharak crouched down and held out a hand to the boy.
“And you, my small man, you too have a Thrun name,” he said gently in Mordanian. Hemmett, curious, took Tharak’s hand and was pulled over to stand before the giant Thrun. “Your Princess is Light Of The Winter Sun because her hair is golden and because one day she will light the way in a dark time. Menders is Magic In The Eyes because of his white eyes and the way he can see inside people’s souls and watches for danger. You are Light Brighter Than The Sun for something you will do when you are grown.”
“Will I be brave?” Hemmett asked in wonder.
“Bravest of them all. Your name will shine like a beacon.”
“Faw!”
“Let’s not go filling the boy’s head with stories, shall we?” Menders said in a tone of quiet reproach.
Tharak reached out and ruffled Hemmett’s curls, the elation of the moments before giving way to quiet solemnity.
“There are those things that will be. The circles are cast, and will roll forward. This you know, my friend.” Tharak replied.
“Yes, well… for now that’s just between us.”
The Thrun chieftain nodded.
“Why are you here?” Hemmett asked. The Thrun were unloading carts, unpacking bundles and generally acting as if they owned the place. Strange, loping creatures the size of a medium dog, with rough orange brown fur, pointed ears and mad yellow eyes wove through the commotion. They didn’t seem to belong to anyone in particular but moved around with casual indifference, doing whatever they pleased. It was said that you never actually owned a Thrun thryge – they just tolerated your presence and accepted your servitude.
“We have come to have a carnival!” Tharak announced to the children, smiling and standing upright again. “We have farlin races and games of chance! We eat a lot, tell many stories, trade all sorts of things. Our home is where our tent poles stand, so we will show you true hospitality! We will celebrate Light Of The Winter Sun and the future that shall come to pass.”
He lifted Katrin to ride on his shoulder, clapped Menders affectionately on the back and set out toward the house.
Hours later, the Thrun had set up their tents in the open areas around The Shadows. The Chieftain’s men were in the process of trampling down a circular racecourse with their farlins. Intrigued, Franz walked along with Menders, watching the entire process.
“How do you know this king of theirs?” he asked, watching as Tharak Karak strode along, Katrin perched on his shoulder, a Thrun-made fur hat on her head in place of the red woolen cap Tharak had removed. “Some fellow leads half the Thrun nation in here like he’s got deeds on the place and you just happen to know him?”
“We both grew up in the same place. We were very close friends when we were boys. I haven’t seen him since I was eleven and went to the Academy...”
A little Thrun girl ran up to them. She grinned at Menders and held up her arms.
“Hugs, Uncle!” she demanded in heavily accented Mordanian. “Thahlia my mother!”
Franz stood thunderstruck as Menders laughed and complied with the request, lifting the child into his arms.
“So your father let you in on the secret, little Thira?” Menders asked, before lapsing into Thrun, speaking with the child for several minutes before putting her down again. “I’ll be over soon to see your mama,” he continued. The little girl nodded, gave Franz a shy smile and ran off.
Franz stared at Menders.
“Uncle? Do tell,” he said sarcastically.
Menders gave him an amused glance.
“You know the sort of man my father was. He had many bastard children, and that little girl’s mother, Thahlia, is my half-sister” Menders replied. “My father never supported her or any of the others but the Thrun always treated me as their own. Thalia is Tharak’s first wife. They have three boys and little Thira, who is the youngest. I haven’t seen Tharak and Thahlia since I was eleven and I’ve never seen the children, but I’ve stayed in touch by letter. These people are my family, Franz.”
“So he knew you were here? Or was this coincidence?” Franz asked.
Menders shrugged and shook his head.
“I haven’t been in touch with him since we came here or while I was in Surelia, because that was a secret mission. For the last few years Tharak’s people have been isolated on their island because the ice bridge didn’t form in the warmer winters we’ve been having. But Tharak wouldn’t do anything by coincidence. From what he’s said, they’ve heard about Katrin.”
Franz looked sharply at him. “How? And heard what about Katrin? To most people she’s Mordania’s best kept secret. How can a bunch of Thrun isolated on an island know about her!”
Menders stopped playing with a farlin colt that was making advances toward him.
“There’s a Thrun prophecy that a child with golden hair born into the Royal House of Mordania will change the course of history and bring about an era of peace. They call this prophesied child Light Of The Winter Sun. I heard him call her that as he held her up for the rest of them to see.” Menders loo
ked out across the snow as he spoke almost reluctantly.
“Dear Gods!” Franz said. “That’s quite a task for her.”
Menders said nothing, looking grim.
“Come on, Menders, don’t tell me you actually give credence to prophecies and such nonsense!” Franz scoffed.
“Of course not.” Menders turned and looked at him. “I’ve heard all sorts of Thrun stories, over the years. They have a legend and a prophecy about everything. Katrin will live her life according to her choices as much as possible, so long as I live.” He sighed. “But I must admit that there have been moments where I’ve remembered those old sagas about Light Of The Winter Sun.”
“Well this Tharak is very taken with her,” Franz said, obviously wanting to leave mysticism and prophecies behind. Then he looked around at Menders so sharply that the bones in his neck crackled.
“Wait a minute! He did know you were here,” Franz said. “He shouted something up to the house after he picked Katrin up. Something about eyes. You were hardly out of the house and he hasn’t seen you since you were eleven.”
“Don’t be absurd, he couldn’t have known I was here,” Menders replied.
“Frog bollocks!” Franz said. “He hasn’t seen you in more than ten years! You must have changed somewhat in that time, yet I’m supposed to believe he picked you out at a hundred yards distance on a bright day with terrible snow glare? He knew all bloody right!”
Menders shook his head and walked on. Franz, realizing that he would get no further short of starting an all out argument, changed the subject, and followed in his wake.
“So what are these carnivals like?” he asked. “They’ve brought enough provender to outlast a siege.”
“This is as nothing,” Menders answered. “When I was a boy they still had the Great Confluences. Thrun clans came from all over Eastern Mordania, including the specialist clans that mine and work metal. The Great Confluence went on for weeks as they traded with each other, made marriage agreements, socialized.”
Weaving Man: Book One of The Prophecy Series Page 20
