"Valderen" - читать интересную книгу автора (Taylor Roger)

Chapter 11

‘A more typical attendance today,’ Derwyn said, with some irony, as he looked out over the empty clearing of the Synehal.

There was little mood for humour of any kind among those gathered for the meeting, however. Although it was several days since Farnor had left, his arrival and the turbulent events of his brief stay still formed the major part of talk about the lodge.

‘It’s just the weather,’ Bildar said, looking at the grey rain streaming vertically down beyond the edge of the Synehal canopy.

Derwyn gave him a knowing look. There were only twelve of them sitting on one of the tiers at the rear of the Synehal platform. ‘Even you don’t believe that,’ he said. ‘It’s good old-fashioned apathy, that’s what it is. The lad’s the sole topic of conversation at every hearthside, but when it comes to talking about him seriously, they can’t be bothered stirring their roots.’ He shook his head ruefully.

‘It is only a shrub Congress meeting, Derwyn,’ a yellow-haired young man said. ‘We’re lucky if all the members who’re supposed to turn up, let alone any observers.’

‘I know, Melarn,’ Derwyn replied. ‘You must excuse me. Farnor’s arrival might have given us some prob-lems, but more than once he made me look at things I’ve known all my life and see them with new eyes. Not least here. The place, and what it means to us, as a lodge; as a people, even. I’m grateful for that. It’s made me realize that perhaps we’ve become a little too staid in our ways. People should pay more heed to what happens here. Things haven’t always been so peaceful and orderly, and there’s no special reason to believe that they’ll always be so.’

‘You worry too much, Derwyn. Things have been the way they’ve been for generations. Why should they change? It doesn’t do to go fretting about such matters.’ The speaker was Melarn’s father, Helgen. He was only a few years older than Derwyn, but bore himself as though he were several decades his senior.

Derwyn gave a discreet glance skywards. ‘Yes, Hel-gen,’ he replied, trying to keep the irritation from his voice. ‘But you can’t deny that it was good to see so many here the other night, such interest. The Synehal hasn’t been that full in my memory and it was a splendid sight. It gave me a good feeling.’

‘It gave me indigestion,’ Helgen retorted, patting his chest. ‘All that commotion and disturbance. Outsiders coming in, Marken disappearing; it was a bad business, and we’re well rid of the lad. The sooner things get properly back to normal, the better. You should never have brought him here in the first place.’

‘Indeed.’ The support came from EmRan.

Derwyn held out a hand before EmRan could begin to amplify his objection. ‘I know what you’re going to say, EmRan,’ he said. ‘We all do. You’ve been saying it incessantly, even since the lad left, though what you think to gain by it I can’t imagine.’ A note of anger seeped into his voice. ‘I did what I did because I felt it right. And no one’s offered me a realistic alternative. The Congress agreed with me. The lad’s gone, Marken’s back; and he also agrees with what I did…’ He levelled his finger at EmRan. ‘And the only person who behaved badly during the time Farnor was here, was you. Why don’t you let it drop, for pity’s sake?’

‘Second, if I may.’ Marken’s voice forestalled any reply from EmRan, and his formal tone prevented Derwyn from continuing. ‘We’d all prefer to be in our lodges. I suggest that we discuss what we came here for.’

With some reluctance, Derwyn nodded an apolo-getic acknowledgement. ‘I think we already are, Marken,’ he replied. ‘But you’re right. There’s enough tittle-tattle buzzing through the branches without our adding to it.’ He, too, became formal. ‘I called this meeting because I wanted you to hear what Marken Heard when he was with Farnor the night before he left. And also to decide whether, in the light of what he had to say, we should try to find new hunting trails to the south.’ He motioned Marken to proceed, before his companions had any chance to assimilate this last remark.

When the Hearer had finished, there was a stunned silence. Inevitably, EmRan was the first to speak. ‘You’re sure about all this?’ he asked, frowning. ‘I can’t recall you, or any other Hearer for that matter, ever being so positive about anything before.’

‘Oh, yes,’ Marken replied quietly, despite EmRan’s acid tone. ‘I told you. I’ve never experienced anything remotely like it before myself. And there was much more than I’ve told you, though some of it was vague and difficult to understand, and quite a lot was beyond any words I can find. However, what I’ve told you was clear and beyond misinterpretation.’

EmRan grunted noncommittally. ‘I thought he’d just decided to go on his way,’ he said. ‘So did everyone else.’

‘Well, in a manner of speaking, he did,’ Derwyn said. ‘I offered to let him stay with us, or to help him go wherever he wanted, but he chose to go north, on his own.’

‘It’s as well,’ EmRan declared. ‘They let him in, they can deal with him.’

Derwyn looked at him angrily, but Marken caught his eye with a look that cautioned calmness. With an effort that brought tension to his jaw, Derwyn took the unspoken advice.

‘Be that as it may,’ he went on. ‘Farnor’s decision was his own to make, and he made it. We gave him hospitality and offered him help, so we did all that we reasonably could. What I think we have to do now is decide what to do about the problems in Farnor’s land, to the south.’

‘What!’ EmRan exclaimed.

‘I said, I think we…’

‘I heard you,’ EmRan interrupted. ‘You said some-thing before about opening trails to the south, didn’t you? Now you’re talking about doing something about the problems in his land!’ He slapped his forehead in disbelief. ‘What in Imrel’s name has his land to do with us?’

‘Mind your language, EmRan,’ Derwyn said angrily. ‘This is a Congress meeting not a climbfest.’

EmRan’s lip curled superciliously. ‘Since when were you so sensitive, Derwyn? I don’t know what’s got into you since you brought that thing back…’

Fury lit Derwyn’s face, but he managed to keep his voice measured. ‘Don’t you ever listen to anything, EmRan?’ he said. ‘You heard Marken telling how that young man was pursued here by some evil power. We don’t even know what it was – people, or something else. Farnor wouldn’t talk about it and Marken Heard nothing from them that would enlighten us. But the fact is, they let him in, as you’re so fond of pointing out, and they turned whatever it was back. And, apparently, it was no easy task. Indeed, it left them afraid and unsure. That, to me, signifies that there’s a danger down there that we simply can’t ignore.’

‘The only danger we’ve got is certain parties getting over-excited,’ EmRan said scornfully. He opened his arms and surveyed the others present. ‘Evil powers, for pity’s sake! I ask you. Fireside tales for children. Somehow this outsider’s got in, caused a bit of a commotion, and now Derwyn wants us to start a war. What are we going to do, Derwyn? Raise the levy of ancient days? Launch ourselves like Athrys of old, against this… mystic… evil that’s suddenly appeared from the south? You’ll be seeing tree goblins next.’

His listeners were mixed in their reception of this outburst. Some laughed openly, but more of them frowned at EmRan’s manner. He read the dominant mood and, lowering his voice, spoke in a more reason-able tone. ‘It’s not to be denied that we’re very – parochial – down here,’ he went on. ‘No outsider’s been seen here in generations, and when one arrives – a very strange one at that – we get ourselves in a great stir about it.’ He became affable. ‘Not least me, I’ll admit.’

Derwyn watched him carefully. EmRan in this mood was far more difficult to deal with than when he was ranting and blowing.

‘But if, by chance, we’d had friends from the north or the east visiting, they’d have taken it in their stride. They’re used to outsiders. Some of them even trade with them, I’ve heard.’ EmRan paused to assess the effect of his words. ‘It’s quite possible that there might be trouble in this lad’s land. Forest knows, everyone has troubles from time to time.’ He looked around the group significantly before casually adding, ‘For all we know, he might have been the cause of it, just like he was here. He could be a bandit, a thief, anything.’ Then with an airy gesture he dismissed this notion before Derwyn could protest. ‘But, whatever the case, it’s nothing to do with us.’ He waved a finger towards the surrounding forest. ‘This land is theirs. It’s they who guard its boundaries, who keep outsiders outside. And for their own reasons, when all’s said and done. It’s not for us to go prowling into the fringes, arrogantly thinking we know best, taking on ourselves the job that they’ve been doing since ancient times.’ He looked at Derwyn. ‘I think we should all do our best to forget the disturbance that this lad’s caused. He’s gone on his way – made his choice, as Derwyn tells us – and I think the rest of us should do the same. We should choose to forget him and get back to normal as quickly as possible.’

There was some applause and much nodding of heads for this, as EmRan sat back. Then all eyes turned towards Derwyn. He too, nodded as he looked at the familiar faces. The Synehal was empty, as it invariably was, EmRan was going on about something, as he invariably was, and even in himself, he felt the great momentum of his ordinary life seeking to reassert itself; to make him set aside this brief aberration and ‘get back to normal’.

But the effects of his contact with Farnor could not be so lightly shaken off. It was like a log-weighted arrow in the side of a great stag. It would drag and drag, constantly wearing him down, until he collapsed with exhaustion, easy prey for the tracking hunters. He scowled. Bad analogy, he thought. His contact with Farnor was not without its grim concerns, but it had had more the feeling of release than capture.

He cast a glance at Marken. He could see that the Hearer was looking concerned after EmRan’s speech. ‘Before he left, I asked Farnor what he wanted,’ he began quietly. ‘Nothing, he said. He’d made up his mind what he had to do, and he was going to see it through. A good trait in a young man, I thought. Forest knows, we grumble often enough that our children rarely finish what they set out to do. It was the last of several things that he did that confirmed the opinion I’d already formed about him. Whatever else he was, he was no criminal. He was a lost and much troubled young man, plain and simple.’

EmRan conspicuously stifled a yawn.

‘Then he said the most that he’s ever said about what had driven him here,’ Derwyn continued, ignoring the jibe. ‘He said we should follow his tracks and try to find the valley that he’d come from, and then we should guard ourselves against what’s in there. Odd phrase, that. We’d need our best hunters, and we’d need Marken. And above all, we should be very careful.’ He leaned forward and lowered his voice. ‘He didn’t have to tell me anything. He’d decided to leave and he knew that I wouldn’t interfere with him or question his decision. And he knew he’d probably never come back. But he wanted to warn us. For some reason he won’t, perhaps can’t, tell us what brought him here, but he knows that it’s some kind of a threat to us.’ He looked at each of the others in turn. ‘EmRan likes to make fun of my concerns, talking about tree goblins and children’s tales. But perhaps, like Farnor, EmRan’s reluctant to talk even about what might be happening here. All this, “let’s get back to normal, do the things we’ve always done”.’ He allowed himself a little acidity. ‘Stick our heads in the hollow tree,’ he said, baring his teeth. ‘Perhaps those are the real children’s games.’

EmRan scowled.

Derwyn flicked his thumb towards Marken. ‘You heard Marken tell you what he’d Heard,’ he went on. ‘An evil pursued Farnor here, they said. Spawn of the Great Evil, they called it. It means nothing to us, but those of you who were watching might have noticed that Marken went pale even as he spoke the words. Whatever he Heard, it had resonances about it that while he can’t find the words to describe them, he can fear them here.’ He struck his stomach forcefully, and his voice became stern.

‘Now, unless we all decide that Marken’s advice is no longer worth listening to, I suggest we pay heed to what he said, and to what Farnor said to me, and start preparing ourselves for the fact that our “normal” lives are perhaps not going to be quite the same in the future. And for the fact that change is on us whether we like it or not.’

EmRan slapped his knees noisily. ‘No one’s doubt-ing what Marken’s told us,’ he said. ‘Or that he had some profound experience as a result of helping this Farnor. All I’m saying is, whatever the truth of events, it’s nothing to do with us. Nothing at all. We’ve got enough to do just tending our own. We can’t go wandering about the southern fringe interfering with the affairs of outsiders, looking for whatever it was that chased him here and perhaps bringing it down on our own heads.’ He lifted a cautionary finger. ‘They’ll not thank us for that, if they’ve had such problems turning it away themselves.’ He sat back again, smugly secure in the rightness of this last point.

Derwyn made no effort to assail this fortress, opting instead to move around it.

‘I too, would like nothing more than to “get back to normal”,’ he said. ‘But my every instinct tells me that change is coming.’ Again he raised his hand to forestall an interruption from EmRan. ‘Every so often, once every generation or so, a wind comes that shakes the Forest to its roots. A wind that brings down trees that have stood for tens of generations. A wind so strong that it splits open the walls of our lodges, sometimes even brings them down. I smell something like that brooding in the distance, as does Marken, though perhaps for different reasons. EmRan says that they’ll be less than pleased if we interfere with whatever it was they turned away from Farnor with such difficulty, but I’d put it the other way. I’d say that if they had such difficulty then we should look to help them, not just stand idly by. For two reasons. Firstly because it’s simply the action of a good neighbour to help our friends – our hosts, I might add – if they’re in trouble. We’re all of us old enough to know there’s no moral case for being a bystander in such circumstances. Secondly, because if this thing returns, and this time they’re unable to stop it, does EmRan think that we alone will be able to stand against it?’

An uncomfortable silence greeted this conclusion. Derwyn watched, and spoke just as he saw EmRan about to break it. He, too, now became affable. ‘And as for disturbing anything, bringing it down upon us, simply by going to search the southern fringe – what are we? Drummers and players? Going in like climbfest dancers? We’re hunters, for Forest’s sake. We need no lessons in silence and stealth and caution. And with Marken helping us we’ll soon know if we’re going somewhere our presence isn’t welcome.’

No one, not even EmRan, seemed inclined to pursue the matter further, so Derwyn placed his idea formally before the group: that a lodge hunting party be sent south, along such tracks as Farnor had left, to see if they could either find the valley from which he claimed to have fled, or find whatever it was that had driven him into the Forest. Somewhat to his surprise, the group agreed to vote on it immediately.

‘EmRan had that log half sawn before you started,’ Marken said sympathetically as he and Derwyn walked through the pouring rain after the meeting.

Derwyn snarled and then swore.

Marken looked at him askance. ‘It’s not the first time he’s beaten you in a shrub Congress,’ he said. ‘You know how he is. He has to do something now and then, to show how capable he is. Don’t take it to heart. It’s nothing serious. He’d never be able to sway the full Congress in advance.’

‘Nine to three, Marken,’ Derwyn said, in angry exas-peration. ‘Me, you and Melarn. And those other old stumps just trotted along behind him like message squirrels.’

Marken unsuccessfully tried to smother a laugh.

Derwyn bowed his head and shook it. ‘No, Marken,’ he said. ‘I’m not in the mood.’

Marken took his arm, his face becoming more seri-ous. ‘It is only a shrub Congress, Derwyn. It’s not that important.’

Derwyn stopped and hitched the hood of his cloak back a little. He glanced upwards into the falling rain. ‘Marken, you’re still up there, somewhere. Still buoyed up by what happened to you when you were with Farnor.’ He looked at his friend. ‘Don’t misunderstand me. I celebrate your… excitement… or whatever it is; truly. But something’s touched me, too. I look around here and see everything that I’ve known all my life, and I know it’s going to change, and change for the worse if we don’t do anything.’

Marken watched him unhappily. ‘I respect your concerns, Derwyn,’ he said. ‘But nothing’s really happened that can lead you to such a conclusion. It’s…’

‘No!’ Derwyn’s tone was unequivocal. ‘I know what you’re going to say. We’ve no facts. Angwen teases me for my hunter’s intuition, but that’s all it is, teasing. She accepts its reality. It’s fed us often enough.’ He patted his stomach noisily. ‘But it’s here, Marken,’ he said. ‘Just as sure as this rain’s dripping down my neck. I sense things with more than my ears and my eyes and my nose. As do we all, if we but care to listen. Every part of me takes in something and pays heed to it. And it builds up, until…’ He tapped his stomach with a solitary finger this time. ‘… I know. I know where a deer has passed, and how long ago. I know there’s a boar in that bush, and a pheasant in that one. And when the weather’s going to break. I know, Marken.’ He tapped his head. ‘I use this too, you know that, but in some things it’s a poor laggard. It has to stumble on behind. And I know that bad things are hovering in the air, and that what we do will make a difference to them.’

Marken shrugged in a gesture of resignation. ‘I can’t argue with you. I do things that you don’t understand, and I’ve seen you do things that I don’t understand, many times. We just trust one another. But where does that leave us? And why the anger about EmRan’s little piece of political trickery.’ He offered Derwyn a reproachful look. ‘It’s not the first time he’s done it. To be honest, I’d have thought you’d have seen it coming.’

Derwyn grimaced. ‘You’re right,’ he replied. ‘I was a bit naive. I just presumed that because I’d felt the events moving around Farnor, everyone else would have.’

‘EmRan wouldn’t feel a log rolling over him,’ Marken retorted caustically.

Derwyn smiled and gave a brief chuckle, but his face became grim again almost immediately. A gust of wind and a sudden splattering of heavy raindrops released from the leaves above sent the two men scurrying forward.

‘Be that as it may,’ Derwyn said, as they walked on, ‘I can’t let this decision stand. It’s too serious. We must take Farnor’s advice.’

Marken stopped and turned towards him. ‘That would mean taking this to a full Congress meeting,’ he said. ‘And they’d be very reluctant to overturn a nine-to-three decision.’ He stepped closer. ‘You were right before when you said I was still floating in the air after that Hearing I had with Farnor. I can’t help it. But I do know that the joy of experiencing the Hearing and the actual message it contained are two different things. I’m with you. I agree with your concerns…’ He tapped his head and his stomach. ‘… however you’ve come by them. But the whole feeling of the lodge is as EmRan said. Let’s all have a good gossip about this strange outsider, but let’s get back to our comfortable, familiar ways while we’re doing it. Head in a hollow tree it might be, but people prefer that to even considering that there might be a very unpleasant reality underlying it all. You couple that with the nine to three vote, and you having nothing… tangible… to offer, and EmRan will almost certainly win. And you can rest assured that he’ll make the most of the fact that it was you who brought Farnor here. You could find your position as Second in jeopardy. And that would be serious.’

Derwyn’s face was unreadable. ‘Maybe EmRan should have the job,’ he said, after a moment. ‘I don’t seem to be reading affairs particularly well at the moment.’

Marken made a disparaging noise. ‘You’re reading them too well,’ he said. ‘And you’re reading them faster than everyone else, that’s all. Don’t reproach yourself.’ He reached out and, taking Derwyn’s arms, shook him. ‘Come on,’ he said earnestly. ‘You know you can’t defy the Congress. It’s far too risky. Besides, the Congress is too slow to cope with what’s happening now. And you need to know what’s happening now. Just think of another way to get what you want.’

Derwyn looked at him solemnly for some time, then nodded slowly. ‘I suppose you want me to thank you for telling me the obvious, don’t you?’ he said, tapping his foot in a grassy puddle and watching the ripples flow from it.

‘Of course,’ Marken said, smiling.

The two set off again, Derwyn with his head lowered pensively. After a little while he straightened up. ‘In that case,’ he said, ‘if you’ve no pressing business at the moment, I’d like to invite you to a small, private hunting trip I was thinking of making in the near future. I’ll probably ask Melarn, too. He’s a personable enough young man, and he’ll come in handy if there’s any heavy work to be done.’

‘Sounds interesting,’ Marken replied casually. ‘It’s a long time since I’ve been hunting, and I could do with a change after all this activity. Sharpen up my Forest lore. Where were you thinking of going?’

Derwyn affected a small debate with himself. ‘No-where special,’ he decided. ‘South, probably.’