Song of the Silvercades

by K S Nikakis

  Caledon was making his way up slabs of stone that looked like huge steps, but Kira came to a stop before the last as her weary legs protested.

  ‘Here,’ said Caledon, offering his hand and hauling her up. He winced as he deposited her beside him.

  ‘I thank you,’ said Kira.

  He nodded and led her into the deeper darkness ahead, a cave, dry and fragrant, the back of it filled with river sand. Caledon slipped off his pack and rolled his shoulders.

  ‘The Tain call this Aurantia, for the colour of the stone,’ he said. ‘At dawn you’ll see why.’

  There was a clear flow of water tinkling down one side of the cave that pooled briefly before it disappeared between rocks.

  Caledon went to the pool and scrubbed at his face and hands, then drank deeply. Afterwards he took a square of cloth from his pack and dried himself.

  ‘The sand makes a good place to sleep, softer and warmer than the ground,’ he said.

  Kira’s fear of the Shargh had wiped away fear of him, but now it flooded back and she tightened her grip on her pack.

  As if sensing her sudden unease, Caledon made his voice gentle. ‘Come. You need to wash the blood from your hands, Kira, then drink.’

  Kira remained where she was, suspicion fighting with her wish to trust him.

  He settled on the sand. ‘I’ve told you my name is Caledon e Saridon e Talliel. Saridon is my family name, and I’m called that in the north. Talliel is the port city where I live. It’s west of the Silvercades, the great mountains of the north. Do you know the north, Kira?’

  ‘No,’ she said, moving slowly towards the pool.

  ‘Talliel is a beautiful place, and a peaceful one. It’s many years since there was fighting. You don’t need to fear me,’ he went on, ‘but I understand if you do. I’ll sleep under the sidas if you wish and we can go on together at dawn. Or you can go on alone.’

  ‘There’s no need,’ said Kira, feeling shamed. ‘But perhaps we should go on. The Shargh might be close,’ she said, thinking of the Writings in the Warens that described the Shargh’s ability to quickly cover long distances on foot. It was a skill that had added to the brutal fighting triggering the Sundering.

  ‘I was attacked by the Cashgar Shargh,’ said Caledon. ‘Like their brothers the Soushargh, Weshargh and Ashmiri, they believe their gods live in the sky. Climbing mountains insults their gods by drawing too near their gods’ domain. The Shargh stay on the plains.’

  Caledon had spoken slowly but Kira struggled to understand the Onespeak words.

  ‘Let’s eat,’ he said, pulling close-wrapped packages out of his pack. ‘I’ve got malede, cheese, biscuit, dried figs and tachil.’

  ‘I thank you but I have food,’ said Kira.

  ‘Eat my supper and I’ll eat your breakfast,’ he replied.

  Her hunger proved too powerful. Kira washed, then sat opposite him on the soft sand. The food was arranged on its wrappings but it was too dark to see it clearly.

  ‘I don’t know your food,’ she said.

  ‘Cheese is made from goat’s milk, biscuit from maize, figs are a fruit, malede is spiced smoked meat and tachil is a ground-nut,’ he said, pointing to each in turn.

  Kira took a fig, some tachil and a piece of the biscuit, eating slowly and relishing every mouthful. The fig was sweeter than any fruit she’d ever tasted and the tachil had an earthy taste, nothing like red- or blacknuts. The biscuit was strange but tasty. Maize, Caledon had called it, whatever that was.

  ‘So you know the north well?’ she asked as they ate.

  ‘Very well,’ said Caledon. ‘My father trades brocades and spices, and as a boy I used to travel with him all around the north.’

  For a little Kira ate in silence. ‘What about the Terak lands? Did you visit those?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course. They stretch from the southern Silvercades most of the way across the Sarsalin Plain,’ replied Caledon, rewrapping the remains of the food and packing it away.

  Kira wanted to know more about the Terak lands, and their inhabitants, but Caledon yawned noisily. Besides, if she questioned him, he was more likely to question her.

  ‘Kashclan thanks –’ she started, then stopped herself. ‘I thank you for the food,’ she said instead, but what she really wanted to thank him for was his kindness.

  ‘Sleep now,’ said Caledon. ‘We need go on at first light.’

  Caledon found it difficult to follow his own advice. He loved to see the birth of a new day, but on this occasion the pain in his shoulder forced him from his ciraq at dawn.

  He rose and went to the cave’s entrance, worrying about the last few days. Was it a coincidence that he had been caught by the Cashgar Shargh twice in five days? Only Weshargh herders wandered the Dendora, and yet four groups of warriors had been there, two of which had seen him and attacked. He sensed that their sudden movement didn’t augur well – and nor did the pain in his shoulder.

  It was likely the wound was poisoning. It was two more days to the Pass, and three after that to Maraschin – maybe three days too far. He searched the sky for stars but the coming day had robbed them of light. He turned to consider another problem – his new companion.

  The girl still slept, wrapped in what appeared to be a basic ciraq. One of her hands lay palm upward on the sand, the fingers fine like her face, but with no rings or adornment. Her hair was cut in a choppy line at jaw level and was brown, though probably fairer clean. Her shirt was brown, her jerkin a soft green. The pack under her head was rustic, with woven laces and wooden buckles. Everything he could see was coloured with plant dyes, with no leather and no metal, apart from her sword, which was of good though plain workmanship. But she was no fighter – her attack on the Shargh warrior successful only because of its suddenness.

  The first rays of sunlight reached the cave and the silvery notes of an ilala sounded. Then another joined it, until the valley rang, reminding him of the bells that welcomed the sailing traders home to port.

  Kira stirred and her eyes opened.

  By the stars! thought Caledon. Her eyes were gold!

  Kira coloured at his gaze and Caledon quickly looked back to the valley. ‘You see why this place is called Aurantia now?’ he said as she came to the cave’s entrance.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Aurantia is the Tain word for flame.’

  ‘Who are the Tain?’ asked Kira.

  ‘Peoples of the northern Azurcades. Once we start our descent, we’ll be in their lands.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, tensing.

  ‘I have friends in their city – we have nothing to fear from the Tain.’

  Her cuff slid down and exposed her bony wrist as she pushed the hair from her eyes. She’d disciplined herself to eat very little, if the meal last night was anything to go by, and that meant she’d journeyed long enough to have to ration her food. But where had she journeyed from? He knew of nothing further south but Shargh.

  Her Onespeak was poor and she didn’t trust him with anything else, not that he could think what anything else could be. She looked pure Kessomi – except for the eyes – but then why would she be so far south?

  ‘You haven’t slept,’ she said, her eyes pulsing between their earlier metallic sheen and honey.

  ‘Do I look so grim?’

  ‘Is it a Shargh wound?’ she asked.

  He nodded, surprised.

  ‘How old?’

  ‘Three days,’ he replied. Her directness was disconcerting after her earlier reticence.

  ‘It must be salved. Undo your shirt,’ she said.

  He hesitated, then shrugged out of his jerkin and unbuttoned his shirt as Kira pulled wooden pots and bulging pouches from her pack, a range akin to the physick stores in the Sea-Farer’s Way.

  ‘I’ve salved it already,’ said Caledon.

  She peeled back the bandage he’d managed to apply with his left hand, releasing a stench so putrid Caledon expected her to recoil in disgust. But she leaned closer, looking at the wound, before c
almly reaching for a pot of pinkish paste.

  ‘You’ve slowed the rot,’ she said, scooping on the cool mixture. ‘What did you salve it with?’

  ‘Kalix.’

  ‘Is that a herb?’ she asked, taking a bandage from her pack and bringing it up and over his shoulder.

  ‘It’s a mixture of … herbs,’ he said, wincing at the sudden severity of the pain.

  ‘You can show me later,’ said Kira, tying off the bandage. ‘Burning yet? ’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, gulping down air as sweat started beading on his face. ‘What have you done?’ The fire in his shoulder and back ran like boiling water into his belly and hips, and he doubled over in an effort not to cry out. Kira supported him, her hand flat against his chest and, inexplicably, the run of pain reversed. It was like a plug being pulled out of a bath, the pain draining away under her hand.

  He looked up in amazement. ‘How –’ he started, then saw she was ashen, her eyes the colour of sida, her expression blank. She sat down heavily. She had taken his pain, he was sure of it, and it had cost her dearly.

  ‘I am in your debt. Again,’ he said.

  ‘There’s no debt,’ she replied. ‘Healing is given.’

  2

  Kira prowled impatiently round the cave’s confines while Caledon slept away the day. Though rest would aid Caledon’s healing, it delayed her journey north, which she could ill afford. Even now the Shargh might be attacking Allogrenia, slaughtering her people and burning the longhouses. Still, at least this enforced stop had given her time to rest, bathe and wash her clothes. She felt much improved, having slept properly after the days and nights of fear and thirst as she crossed the Dendora Plain. And after the peril of Shardos, perhaps it was wise to have a guide.

  No, it was more than having a guide, she admitted. It was no longer being alone – at least for a little while.

  The cave was pleasant and had a good supply of water; Kira drank often to sate her hunger and to distract herself from thoughts about her companion. Caledon had said he was from Talliel; she went to the cave’s sunny entrance, slipped out her map and studied it. There it was, on the edge of the sea, west of the Silvercades, as he’d said. Why was he so far south? What was the relationship between his people and the Terak?

  She glanced over to check Caledon still slept then shifted her gaze to the sprawl of mountains near the top of the map. Nestled on the southern edge of the Silvercades was Sarnia, city of the Terak Kutan, seed of the people Kasheron had fled. Their barbarism in fighting the Shargh had split a people, but they were still kin, the blood-link making them bound to provide aid. But first she had to reach them to ask for it!

  The first obstacle was the Azurcades. And then the land beyond. There were many place names at the base of the Azurcades’ northern slopes: Maraschin, Gaifen Plain, Surahman, The Westlans, as well as others further afield. According to Caledon, all these places belonged to the Tain – who were supposedly friendly. But whether they were friendly or not, they weren’t her people. Kira gazed out beyond the glittering haze of the Dendora, to where Allogrenia lay. She could almost see the cooking place at the Kashclan Longhouse, hear the laughter of playing children, smell Tenerini’s nutbread. Her eyes burned but she knew that if she returned the Shargh would follow and any killing intensify. For good or ill she must go on and, at least for the next few days, with this man called Caledon, she thought.

  Silver glinted in Caledon’s hair but he looked curiously ageless – his face unlined and, despite everything, untroubled. His shirt was finely woven with engraved metal buttons, his jerkin of some thick, soft cloth, coloured with a dye deeper than the greenest leaves. He wore calf-length boots of a material Kira knew as leather. His pack was leather, too. Kira shuddered. She knew of leather from the Writings. It was animal skin, treated to stop it rotting.

  She couldn’t comprehend the notion of killing an animal to peel away its skin, though she knew the Northerners kept animals for that purpose, and to eat, and to use their fur for cloth, instead of plants like falzon.

  Caledon e Saridon e Talliel. Who and what was he? Her head was full of questions, but it was hard to stay focused and think when she was so hungry. Despite her careful doling out of food her supplies were almost gone. Kasheron and his followers had all but starved in the forests after they’d hunted out the silverjacks and before they’d found the nut groves. During the time she and Kest had spent searching the Writings for a cure to the Shargh wounds, she’d read of the malnourished women who’d died in childbirth. Even so, she had never understood the relentlessness of hunger – until now.

  On the Dendora Plain she’d been distracted from her hunger by her need to hide from the Shargh or find water. Here she had nothing to do but think of food.

  She was still sitting near the cave’s entrance as the sun disappeared behind the western flank of the Azurcades. She’d seen several sunsets since she’d left Allogrenia, but their vastness still enthralled her.

  It wasn’t until the last fiery edge disappeared that she turned and saw that Caledon had woken.

  ‘Aurantia gives a good view, doesn’t it?’ he said.

  Kira nodded, suddenly ill at ease.

  ‘And it’s a glorious place to stay in,’ he added, his eyes on the glowing walls.

  ‘ “Glorious?” ’

  ‘Like “beautiful”, but more so,’ he said, extricating himself from his ciraq and pulling on his jacket.

  He took a comb from his pack and tugged it through his hair. ‘Your Onespeak is unpractised. Perhaps I know your language, for I speak many tongues, and those I don’t often share words with those I do. The Tain speak a tongue common among those of The Westlans and can converse with the Bishali, who are roaming people of the north-west. But if they speak with the Kessomis – who live in the Silvercades – or the Kirs or Illians, they must use Onespeak. Likewise, despite now being part of the same peoples, the Kirs and Illians cannot make their meaning clear to each other, because they once lived separately.’

  So many peoples, so many tongues, so many complications, thought Kira. Caledon had used Terak after the attack and if she used Tremen now he’d guess the kin-link. Allogrenia had remained safe because no one knew of it until the Shargh stumbled across it. If she told Caledon about her people, she might bring further danger to the Tremen. Though it seemed churlish not to trust him, Kira’s task was to bring aid to her people, and she daren’t do anything to risk that.

  ‘It seems we must persevere with Onespeak,’ said Caledon, when she didn’t reply. ‘We’ll practise your Onespeak in any case, since you’re going north and will need it,’ he said, taking food from his pack.

  ‘Come and eat,’ he said.

  ‘I ate your food in the last night and I don’t have enough to share,’ confessed Kira. ‘I’ll need it as I journey further north.’

  ‘I do have enough to share.’

  Kira shook her head, ‘I can’t.’

  ‘You saved my life and healed my wound; the least I can do is share my food with you,’ said Caledon.

  ‘Healing is given,’ said Kira.

  ‘Then my food is given. You’ll insult me if you refuse it. Come,’ he said.

  This time she did, taking some tachil and a fig, but again shunning the malede and cheese.

  ‘You don’t like my malede or my cheese, and yet Simial cheese is prized in the north. I know several goatherds who’d be most affronted,’ said Caledon, smiling.

  ‘I would not eat cheese,’ said Kira, returning his smile.

  ‘Then at least try the malede. It was made by my friend Folian, who is the very best of the maledis, at least according to him.’

  ‘Meat is prasach.’

  ‘Prasach?’

  ‘Unclean,’ said Kira.

  ‘Ah,’ said Caledon thoughtfully.

  ‘I thank you for your food,’ said Kira, luxuriating in the biscuit’s sweetness.

  ‘And I for your healing,’ replied Caledon.

  He waited till she’d finished, t
hen packed away the food and pulled out a silver box with shining strings. Then he pushed pieces of metal onto his fingertips, closed his eyes and played – beautiful tinkling music. Kira listened, entranced.

  As the last notes died away, Caledon stretched and sighed.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Kira, looking at the instrument.

  ‘A thumbelin.’

  He passed it to her and she flinched at the touch of it. ‘It’s metal!’

  ‘Yes. This part acts as a sound box and you can tension the wires here. The hoods are for picking.’

  Kira held it as if it were hot.

  ‘Have you not seen one before?’

  Kira shook her head.

  He slid off the hoods and offered them to her. ‘Shall I teach you to play?’

  ‘No! I … I thank you.’

  ‘Is music prasach too?’ he asked.

  ‘No. Metal is.’

  ‘I see,’ said Caledon. ‘Yet you carry a sword.’

  ‘The Protectors may use swords to protect, and Healers may use sickles to gather … Though I’m a Healer, I carry a sword for protection,’ said Kira, thinking of it in the bottom of her pack. After the horror of killing the Shargh, she couldn’t imagine using it again. There was a short silence. ‘I … I thought your music was beautiful.’

  ‘Ah, I hoped you’d call it glorious.’

  ‘It was glorious,’ said Kira and laughed.

  ‘Tomorrow we will go on, if you’re willing. It’s another two days to the Pass and there are no more caves. Let’s hope the weather stays fine,’ he said.

  ‘I must go on regardless of the weather, but the night’s clear so it should be another sunny day,’ said Kira.

  Caledon said nothing, his gaze on the stars.

  They set off early, walking through mist pierced with shafts of sunlight, Caledon showing no signs of injury. Kira felt the sense of peace that came with healing, but dread at the journey ahead ate away at it. She liked Caledon and wanted to trust him, but her task as Leader was to ensure the safety of Allogrenia. She knew too little about him, and still feared that if she were to ask him questions, he would question her in return.