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

Chapter 7

Farnor opened his eyes abruptly; suddenly wide awake. He was greeted by the sight and sound of Bildar, starting away from him violently with an agitated cry. ‘You frightened me to death,’ the old man gasped, patting his chest vigorously. ‘I thought you were unconscious.’

Farnor found that he was sitting on the ground, leaning against the uneven wall of the stables. He looked around. Derwyn, Angwen, Edrien, and several other people had formed a loose semi-circle about him. Like Bildar, they all looked startled. ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked. ‘What’s happened? What are you all doing here?’

Edrien stepped forward and knelt down by him. ‘You fainted,’ she said. ‘You were shouting at me, then all of a sudden your eyes rolled up and you fell over.’

‘Fainted,’ Farnor blustered, as he leaned ungallantly on her to struggle to his feet. ‘Nonsense. I’ve never fainted in my life. I must have slipped on something.’

Derwyn and Bildar exchanged hesitant glances, but Edrien stormed in. ‘You fainted, you donkey,’ she shouted. She shuffled her feet vehemently in the dusty straw. ‘You’re as natural-born a faller as ever I’ve seen, but even you couldn’t trip over straw.’ Her tirade rose to a climax. ‘Especially as you were standing still at the time.’

‘I’m afraid you gave Edrien rather a bad fright,’ Bildar intervened hastily, with an air of conciliatory concern.

‘No, he didn’t,’ Edrien lied angrily. Derwyn put a hand on her arm.

Farnor clung to the easiest release from this strange predicament. ‘Well, whatever happened, I’m fine now, and I’m leaving,’ he said to Derwyn. ‘Too many odd things are happening to me here. And I’m causing nothing but difficulties for everyone. I belong in my own village, with my own people. There are things that I have to do.’

Derwyn stepped forward and gripped both of Far-nor’s arms supportively. ‘We’ll pack your things, Farnor,’ he said. ‘We’ll happily give you supplies. And we’ll take you to where we found you and accompany you as far south as we dare, back along your own tracks.’ There was reservation in his tone. Farnor stared at him, expectantly. ‘But I doubt you’ll get far. My every instinct tells me that you’ll be back here before night-fall.’ He paused significantly. ‘And I think yours does too.’

Farnor shook himself free from the grip, impa-tiently. He was going to sneer, ‘They don’t want me to leave, I suppose?’ but the venom was gone. He might perhaps choose to deny to the Valderen that he heard the voices of… someone… talking to him, but he could not deny it to himself. Just as Nilsson had effortlessly destroyed any pretensions he might have had about being a fighter, and as Rannick and the creature in full cry had left him with nothing except headlong and desperate flight, so the power that had just drawn back his hurtling will, and the voice that had spoken to him, had told him that he was no longer wholly master of his own destiny.

He looked round at the watching group. There was more in their faces than concern for a fallen boy.

‘What happened?’ he asked again. ‘Why are you all here?’

There was an awkward silence. Angwen stepped forward and took his arm. ‘Something moved us,’ she said, her voice, like the way she moved, at once gentle and irresistibly strong. ‘Derwyn and I were already down when we met Edrien running for us.’ There were various nods and mutters of agreement from the others.

Uncharacteristically, Farnor probed Angwen’s reti-cence. ‘What moved you?’ he asked coldly.

There was no hesitation however, and again Ang-wen’s straightforward gentleness swept his antagonism aside. ‘Edrien said that it was talk of the trees that agitated you, but it was they that we Heard. Not well, not clearly – we’re none of us true Hearers – but it was unmistakable.’

Farnor lowered his eyes from hers, and slowly she released his arm. ‘And it was unlike anything any of us have ever known,’ she concluded, the softness of her voice tinged with awe.

Farnor listened to the silence that filled the great chamber.

Even the horses seemed to be waiting for something. Then his own horse shook itself noisily and broke the spell. He turned to Derwyn. ‘I don’t know what to think,’ he said. ‘You’ve been very kind and generous. Indeed I probably owe you my life. But everything about this place – your people – is so… disconcerting. I need to be back with my own kind. People who concern themselves with sheep and cattle…’ He gave a dismis-sive shrug, then concluded incongruously, ‘… and turnips.’ He put his hands to his head. ‘I feel that my sanity will go if I stay here,’ he went on. ‘For all your kindness, I don’t belong here. And while I don’t know what’s happening, I do know that I have matters to attend to at home which can’t be set aside for any reason. I must leave.’

‘This matter is a family matter? A matter of honour?’ Derwyn asked.

Farnor nodded reluctantly, sensing what was to follow.

Derwyn stepped very close to him. ‘You’re going to seek vengeance for your parents,’ he said softly, but with great intensity. It was a statement, not a question. ‘Listen, younger to elder, for a moment. Vengeance is no way for a young man. It’s no way for anyone. And you’ll die, or worse, destroy yourself and perhaps others who care for you, if you pursue it. There will be law some-where in your land. Seek that. And if there’s no law, then seek to bring it there.’

Farnor heard tones in the voice that could have been his father’s. Something stirred deep inside him; struggled to reach into the cold emptiness inside him, where the only warmth came from the image of the death of Rannick.

But the power of the image was too strong and he clung to it fearfully. It was all that he had left.

He met Derwyn’s gaze. For all his kindness and, doubtless, wisdom, the man did not understand. Indeed, could not understand, unless his parents had been arbitrarily, brutally murdered. Straightening up, he said, ‘I thank you for everything that you and your people have done for me, Derwyn.’ His manner was formal and respectful. ‘I would impose on you for just one more thing, if I may, and that’s to accept your offer to take me back to where you found me. I want to leave today. Now.’

Derwyn’s eyes were pained as he held Farnor’s gaze, then defeat and regret came into them, and he nodded. ‘As you wish, Farnor,’ he said, sadly. ‘I’d have liked you to have stayed, for many reasons. To have talked about your people. And our people. And other things. But…’ He made a gesture of resignation. ‘… you know your own mind. I’ll do as you ask.’

An unhappy silence pervaded the members of the group as they made their way out of the chamber. However, as they stepped outside, they were met by a large and noisy crowd, filling the wide defile that led down to the stables.

Derwyn nodded, as if this was what he had antici-pated. He raised his hands as people moved forward expectantly. ‘My friends,’ he shouted above the hubbub. ‘I know what strange call brought you here. We all Heard it too. And I know that the lodges have been alive with gossip and rumour about this young man ever since he came amongst us so unexpectedly, yesterday…’

Questions came from all sides before he could con-tinue. He waved his arms a few times in an attempt to beat down the rising clamour, then he gave up and, putting his fingers into his mouth, gave a piercing whistle. ‘I myself have far more questions than answers, I’m afraid,’ he said into the ensuing silence. ‘But…’ He seemed to reach a decision. ‘We’ll hold a Congress meeting tonight, and I’ll tell you what I know for certain, and also what I think. And then we can talk and conjecture and see if we can muster a little wisdom to help us make some sense of what has happened.’

This declaration ended much of the questioning, but, as the centre of the attention of the crowd, the focus of the pointing fingers and craning necks, Farnor felt as he had when he climbed his first vertical ladder the previous day: exposed and extremely vulnerable. As he walked along, flanked by Derwyn and Angwen, the trailing crowd did nothing to lessen his discomfort. The children especially, were particularly forthright in their curiosity, coming close and staring up at him, wide eyed and unblinking. One or two of the older ones, on the pretext of satisfying the curiosity of their younger relatives, carried them up to Farnor and encouraged them to reach out and touch his black hair, showing them, by the way, how it should be done.

It was thus some time before they reached the tree which led to Derwyn’s lodge, and Farnor was by then more than a little ruffled. Derwyn went first up the ladder, closely followed by Angwen. Farnor watched her and wondered how she could possibly be so graceful when climbing a ladder.

He knew that his own marked lack of grace, or even agility, would be highlighted by the contrast, and that such confidence as he had acquired so far would not withstand the scrutiny of the crowd now watching him keenly. For a moment he considered asking Edrien to go ahead and bring his packs down, but some residual pride prevented him. That and the fact that such an action would leave him alone and feeling even more foolish in the middle of this curious crowd.

As he set off up the ladder he thought that he heard Edrien whispering some kind of injunction to silence, in the midst of which he caught the word, ‘Faller.’

It was however, a useful reminder to him that what he was doing was dangerous and he forced himself to concentrate as he began to pull himself slowly upwards. Only occasionally now did he need to put both feet on one rung before he continued, but each time he did so he seemed to sense the silence of the crowd below deepening under Edrien’s gaze.

Determinedly he refused to look down. Indeed, he did not need to look to feel the eyes of the crowd fixed on him unremittingly. He was glad however, that they were silent, though there was the occasional giggle, or worse, anxious gasp, both of which were followed by a rush of ‘Ssh… Ssh…’, embedded in which, like a barbed arrow, came again the dread word, ‘Faller’.

When he reached the first platform he stepped off the ladder and, looking down at the crowd, risked a wave. The upturned faces were, for the most part, smiling, and there was some tentative waving in reply, together with a little, possibly ironic, applause. There were also quite a few shaking heads to be seen as the crowd started to disperse, noisy again now, freed from Edrien’s stern restraint.

Then, swiftly, Edrien was trotting up the ladder. As she swung off it next to him, she silently motioned him along the platform. More relaxed now, at the prospect of leaving, an old walking habit reasserted itself and Farnor glanced around to see if there were any land-marks that he could identify in the mass of branches and leaves, but there was nothing. How could these people find their way about up here, where everything looked the same? The sooner he got away from this place, the better.

Yet even as he thought this, it occurred to him that at some other time perhaps, to come here would have been a wonderful thing, with so much to be seen, and so much to be learned. He had a fleeting vision of himself as an old man, like Gryss, sitting in his cottage sur-rounded by mementoes of the strange places he had visited in his foolish youth, but it was gone before he could dwell on it. That was a future that now could never be.

As he walked along the platform after Edrien he became increasingly aware that there were far more platforms, walkways and lodges up here than he had noticed before. And too, he became acutely conscious of the fact that he was still the object of a great deal of scrutiny; every person they encountered, and any that he saw nearby, all stared at him intently.

A short walk, and a few ladders later, however, he was once again entering Derwyn’s lodge. It was no small relief to be away from all that increasing curiosity.

Edrien led him along a wide passage and opened a door to reveal a small cupboard. ‘Here’s everything that we found on your horse,’ she said brusquely. ‘Bring it through. You’d better check what’s there, in case anything fell off during your journey. I’ll get you some fresh food and water before you go.’

Farnor ignored the reproach in her voice and dragged the saddlebags into the room that she had indicated. As he checked the contents, Derwyn entered and sat down. He watched Farnor silently, but Farnor avoided his gaze until, satisfied that nothing had been lost from the bags, he had painstakingly refastened them and had no alternative but to look at him.

‘Everything is there that you need?’ Derwyn asked.

‘Yes, thank you,’ Farnor replied, adding self-consciously, for want of something to say, ‘I think I was lucky not to lose them, the way I was riding.’

Derwyn nodded, understandingly, and then glanced out of the window. ‘I don’t want you to think I’m obstructing you in any way, Farnor. You’ve made your wishes quite clear. But it is late in the day, and it’ll be dark before we even reach the place where we found you. I don’t know how good a tracker you are, but frankly I think you’re going to find it very hard to find your original tracks in the dark, and there seems to be little point in you camping out there.’ Farnor looked at him in silence. Derwyn continued. ‘Also, that region is not one that any of us are familiar with and, to be honest, I’m not too anxious to be travelling over it at night. We’ll take you right away, if you insist, but would it really disturb your plans to postpone your journey for a few hours and leave say, at dawn?’

Farnor looked out of the window. The light suffus-ing the trees was now that of a bright sun, low in the sky, leeching the colour from everything that it touched and etching long, dark, wavering shadows through the mote-filled air. Derwyn’s request was too reasonable, and too reasonably put, to be denied. Besides, memories of the creature reaching out to him through the night were beginning to hover about him. ‘I didn’t realize I’d slept so late,’ he replied weakly. ‘And I would prefer to travel in the daylight – if you don’t mind me staying here another night.’

Derwyn smiled in a fatherly way and stood up. ‘No, we don’t mind, Farnor,’ he said.

Farnor patted his saddlebags comfortingly, uncer-tain what he should do next. ‘And anyway, you have your Council meeting tonight, haven’t you?’ he said, to fill the silence.

Derwyn took a sudden deep breath, and muttered something under his breath that Farnor did not quite catch, but which he took to be an oath. Then, with a hasty ‘excuse me’, Derwyn left hurriedly. Farnor heard his footsteps resounding through the lodge accompa-nied by a great deal of agitated shouting, until finally it ended in a ripple of female laughter and the slam of a door.

Angwen was still laughing when she came into the room. ‘It’s a good thing you reminded him, Farnor,’ she said. ‘There’d have been real uproar after what he said at the stables if he hadn’t summoned the meeting after all.’ Then she rubbed her arms and moved over to the open window. As Edrien had in his room that morning, Angwen casually touched something by the window.

This time, two glazed panels swung silently into the opening. What struck Farnor most forcefully however, was not the silence and seeming efficiency of whatever mechanism worked the windows, but the fact that the room seemed to become brighter, as if the windows were gathering more sunlight than had come through the open window and were scattering it into the room. There were so many fascinating things about these people…

‘I think you’re wise to leave your journey until the morning,’ Angwen said, breaking into his thoughts. ‘Night tracking’s so difficult, even when you’re used to it. Do your people do much hunting?’

‘No, no,’ Farnor stammered. Somehow, this strangely beautiful woman disconcerted him pro-foundly. ‘We’re farmers. We catch the odd rabbit for the pot now and then, and perhaps a fox or a wild dog if they’ve been worrying the sheep.’ Unbidden, the memory of the motley gathering in the farmyard came to him, with Gryss sternly forbidding the carrying of bows, and Marna slipping through Gryss’s guard so that she could accompany them. Then, other memories threatened to come in the wake of these; the now childish-seeming excitement at passing for the first time beyond the bounds of the valley as he had always known it; of looking up giddily at the clouds moving over the swaying castle walls; his strange contact with the creature…

Suddenly agitated, he turned away from Angwen’s gaze and twitched his hand nervously over his mouth as if wiping it.

‘I’m sorry,’ Angwen said. ‘Does it bring back too many painful memories to talk about your people?’

Farnor’s hands fretted a little more before they set-tled on his knees. ‘No,’ he lied, then, smiling uncertainly, ‘A goose walked over my grave, that’s all.’

Angwen clapped her hands. ‘We say just the same,’ she said, laughing. ‘How strange.’

Her laughter seemed to fill Farnor just as it filled the room, and he felt a great easing. ‘What’s going to happen at this Council meeting tonight?’ he heard himself asking.

‘The Congress meeting?’ Angwen corrected. She gave another rich laugh. ‘If Derwyn manages to notify everyone, it’ll be full of talk about you, Farnor. Talk, talk and more talk. All about the grim, black-haired outsider on his grim, black horse; the strange intruder who’s cost us our Hearer.’

Farnor grimaced and self-consciously ran his hand through his hair. ‘Does no one round here have black hair?’ he asked.

Angwen shook her head. ‘No one,’ she confirmed. ‘And, unfortunately, it’s a colour that’s always given to the invaders and the evil mages in our legends.’ She smiled broadly.

‘You don’t seem to be very concerned about it,’ Farnor said.

Angwen laughed again. ‘We’re a civilized, rational people, Farnor,’ she said. ‘We love our legends and our stories – and our history, as far as we know it – but we don’t confuse myth and reality any more than you do, I should imagine. You were just an injured man, a faller, plain and simple. You needed help, and we gave it to you.’

‘But I’ve caused you problems, nevertheless,’ Farnor said. ‘You’ve lost your Hearer because of me.’

Angwen wrinkled her nose a little as she pondered this remark.

‘We haven’t lost him, Farnor,’ she said, looking at him seriously. ‘He’s gone to find a quiet place for himself. It’ll all resolve itself. They’ll provide.’ She leaned forward, her expression uncertain now. ‘Edrien’s told me how talking about the trees upset you so much,’ she said, watching him carefully. ‘I’ve tried to imagine what it’s been like for you, finding yourself here in this strange place all of a sudden. But I can’t really. I know we’re only people like your own, but so many of our ways, our ideas, our thoughts, must be so different that I can’t begin to put myself truly in your place.’ She reached out and took his hand. ‘All I can do is perhaps put you in our place a little,’ she went on. Brown eyes held Farnor. ‘Remember this above all: that nothing is to be feared. It is only to be understood.’

Farnor started. Hadn’t Gryss said something like that? But memories of the creature close behind him bubbled into his mind to dismiss the recollection, and he could do nothing but challenge the assertion. ‘Nothing is to be feared?’ he echoed disbelievingly.

Angwen released his hand and smiled. ‘That’s the ideal to be striven for,’ she said. ‘But none of us is perfect.’ She laughed, and then quite abruptly became serious again. ‘But think about it, Farnor. Fear is important to us. It galvanizes us at times of danger, and helps us to survive. But constant fear is not to be borne. It’s an oppression and it has to be opposed. And to understand what causes the fear is to learn its strengths and weaknesses. And to learn how to avoid it, or perhaps even overthrow it.’

Farnor tilted his head on one side. ‘You talk like a soldier out of one of Yonas’s tales,’ he said.

‘Yonas?’ Angwen queried.

‘He’s a Teller,’ Farnor replied, his face brightening. ‘He’s one of the few people who come from over the – from outside the valley. He travels all over, telling his stories in return for food and shelter.’

Angwen smiled appreciatively and her face became pensive. ‘I remember an old woman who used to teach here once…’ She paused, as if trying to recollect something. ‘Uldaneth, she was called. And she used to tell splendid tales.’ She chuckled to herself. ‘She could be so fierce. Even the men used to scuttle when she told them to do something. She’d poke them with her stick and order them about.’ She thrust an imaginary stick forward and laughed. ‘But everyone loved her.’

Farnor waited.

Angwen looked at him strangely. ‘And she was an outsider too. And her hair was black as well!’ She ran her hand absently over her own hair and her eyes became distant. ‘Fancy forgetting about Uldaneth,’ she said softly.

Farnor was loath to disturb the silence which hung about Angwen after this revelation, but his curiosity was too strong. ‘Where did she come from?’ he asked.

Angwen shrugged and smiled again. ‘I don’t think anyone knew,’ she said. ‘And I don’t think anyone felt inclined to ask. She just seemed to belong here natu-rally.’ She shook her head slowly. ‘I can’t even remember when she left now.’ There was another long, thoughtful pause. ‘How strange. I haven’t thought about her in years,’ she concluded. A little sadly, Farnor thought.

Then she shook off her pensive mood and reverted to the question that Farnor’s earlier comment had implied. ‘The Valderen were a fighting people once,’ she said. ‘And it’s still reflected in many of our traditions.’

‘The swords by the doors!’ Farnor exclaimed.

Angwen nodded. ‘The Threshold Swords,’ she said. ‘Yes, that’s one thing. From a long time ago.’ She became thoughtful again. ‘The strength of a people depends on the willingness – and the ability – of each to defend both himself and his neighbour against those who would unjustly impose upon them.’ She was talking half to herself. ‘Yes,’ she reflected, softly. ‘That spirit is still with us even though we’ve known no conflict in generations.’

Despite himself, Farnor found his curiosity engaged again. ‘Who did you fight against before?’ he asked.

Angwen started slightly, as if her thoughts were elsewhere. ‘Bildar’s a better person to answer that than me,’ she said. ‘It’s a long, complicated tale.’

Farnor risked a gentle taunt. ‘Are you afraid that if you tell me I’ll understand you better and thus be less afraid?’

Angwen’s head went back and she laughed delight-edly. ‘I think you have me there, Farnor,’ she said, as she recovered. Then she looked at him strangely again. Farnor saw a mother’s eyes looking at him. ‘Forest forbid that you should ever feel afraid here, of all places, Farnor,’ she said softly.

He turned away from her.

‘I’ll risk telling you a little,’ Angwen said, mockingly, after a moment. ‘Perhaps indeed it’ll help you under-stand us.’

She leaned back in her chair. ‘Back in the times you were asking about, our ancestor came here to hide from a foe so awful that He seemed set to destroy every thing that lived. For generations we helped to hold the bounds of His conquest, until eventually He was destroyed.’ She paused, momentarily, her face troubled, but the doubt in it passed, like a small cloud from in front of the sun, and she continued. ‘During those times, war was waged in many ways, Farnor. On terrible battlefields, on the oceans, even in the air above us. And in the hearts and the minds of whole peoples as He sought to lead them astray, disguising His evil with sweet words.’

Farnor found himself spellbound as Angwen’s voice began to rise and fall to some subtle rhythm, just as Yonas’s would when his tale gathered momentum.

‘And as people searched for means to oppose Him, old skills, old knowledge was rediscovered. For some of us here, in the Forest, came the ability to know the… minds… of the trees, to Hear them, as we say now. And with that, came the knowledge that the very trees amongst which we sheltered had a will, a sentience, of their own. A will that had silently supported us in our struggle and that had worked to deceive the enemy when His armies had tried to drive us out.’

Farnor began to frown a little.

‘Listen, and then you will understand a little better, and be a little less afraid,’ Angwen said, her face counselling patience. ‘That’s how it began. And we’ve lived in harmony with one another ever since.’ She raised a cautionary finger. ‘It’s not that we fully understand one another, even now. Not by any means. In fact I doubt that such a thing is possible, we’re so different. But we understand enough to respect one another’s right to be and, through our Hearers, to talk, as best we can, when we must impinge on one another.’

Farnor’s frown was deepening. ‘But people keep saying they let me in, for some special reason of their own, and they might well not let me out,’ he said, half angry, half afraid. ‘And…’ He was about to mention the overwhelming will that had possessed him before he fainted in the stables, but some inner voice prompted him not to. ‘Bildar said that theirs is the power here. That they can reach into minds – make people do what they want. That we – people – are merely tolerated.’

Angwen searched for words that would ease Far-nor’s distress. ‘What Bildar said is both true and not true,’ she said, after a moment. She looked at him earnestly. ‘But I told you, they’re not like we are, Farnor. Almost everything about them is beyond our true understanding. They may have needs, ambitions, desires, affections, but I doubt we’d understand them, even if they could tell us about them easily. And I doubt they understand ours. Their power to control us is undeniable, but power is only power when it’s used, and they don’t use it, except to keep outsiders away. And that’s why your coming here has caused such a stir.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘I’m afraid that in our lack of under-standing of what’s happened, we’ve become frightened.’

Angwen’s sincerity and concern was beyond any doubting and Farnor looked at her unhappily. ‘And you’ve no Hearer to advise you now, because of me,’ he said.

‘I told you before, don’t concern yourself about it,’ Angwen said. ‘That will resolve itself.’

Farnor looked at her helplessly. ‘And what am I to do, in the meantime?’ he asked.

Angwen met his gaze. ‘Whatever you want,’ she said simply. ‘Now you’ve made me think about it. Do as your heart moves you. But as much as you can, stay… calm… and still… within yourself. And, above all, listen to the quieter voices within you. Whatever it is they want from you, if anything, I’m sure you’ll learn in due course.’ She became practical. ‘And I’m sure they mean you no harm. The Forest is vast and there are many dark and dire places in it to which you could have been led to die, had that been their will. And don’t forget, they’ve roused us to come to your aid twice now. Nothing like that has happened before, ever.’ Still watching him, she nodded, as if confirming to herself that her conclusion was correct. ‘Do as your heart moves you,’ she said again. ‘If tomorrow, you still want to leave, then leave. All will be well.’

Farnor nodded slowly. Angwen’s logic chimed with his determination. He would leave tomorrow.

Set back on his original intention, however, the gentle magic of Angwen’s telling faded, and darkness bubbled up inside him again. He would return to seek out Rannick – and, if necessary, the creature – and destroy them both. That was his duty. That was all he truly had now. And if the trees didn’t like it, then they could tell him directly, and take whatever consequences ensued.

Come into my mind at your cost, he felt something say, deep within him.

He sat with Angwen in silence for some time, then she looked about her suddenly. ‘I hadn’t realized how dark it was getting,’ she said.

She stood up and touched what Farnor had taken to be a round woven basket hanging from the patterned ceiling; an ornament, he had presumed. Immediately a tiny light glowed at the centre of the basket, and then abruptly flared up to light the whole room. Standing up and screwing his eyes against the brightness, Farnor looked at it intently. The basket proved to be of delicately carved wood and it contained a glass globe. He turned away, blinking.

‘What a marvellous sunstone,’ he said to Angwen, who was watching him with some amusement. She raised her eyebrows in surprise. ‘Sunstone,’ she said appreciatively. ‘What a nice name. I’m afraid we call them lightrocks, even though we use them as much for heating as lighting. I gather you use them too.’

Farnor nodded. ‘Yes, but all ours are very old now, and it’s difficult to find new ones. We have to look after them very carefully. And we’ve none as good as that. It’s so bright. Where do you get them from?’

Angwen smiled. ‘From the mountains up north. Anyone who’s travelling up there for any reason usually brings some back. And there’s always plenty at the Solstice Mart. I’ll give you some when you leave tomorrow,’ she said. ‘And a striker.’

Guiltily, Farnor raised his hands to refuse the offer, but Angwen shook her head. ‘It’ll be a gift to your people from my people, Farnor. You can’t refuse a gift of light, can you?’

Taken aback by this impulsive gesture, Farnor did not know what to say. Sunstones were precious in the valley and much cherished by their owners. He was just composing a suitable sentence of thanks when Derwyn returned. He looked harassed.

‘What’s the matter?’ Angwen asked quietly, wrap-ping her arm around him.

Derwyn cast a glance at Farnor but spoke to his wife. ‘EmRan’s being particularly troublesome,’ he said. ‘More than I thought he would be.’ He pulled a rueful face. ‘And I’m afraid it didn’t help that Farnor threat-ened him with a knife.’

Angwen grimaced slightly and nodded.

Farnor felt suddenly trapped. Though no explana-tion was asked for, he blustered one out. ‘He barged into Bildar’s like a mad bull. I thought he was someone else. Bildar and Edrien saw what happened. They’ll tell you. He frightened them, too.’

‘Don’t upset yourself, Farnor,’ Derwyn said, kissing Angwen and unwinding her arm from about him. ‘It’s just an unfortunate thing to have happened. And EmRan’s thrashing about and clouding the issues that we really need to be discussing.’

‘I can leave now, on my own, if you wish,’ Farnor offered.

Derwyn shook his head hastily. ‘No, no,’ he said. ‘That will make things far worse. With all the confusion there is at the moment, that might even bring the hunt down on your head, and Forest knows what the consequences of that would be.’ He sat down and looked up at Farnor, his face unhappy. ‘I didn’t want to get you involved in this, but drawing a weapon against another is a serious matter amongst us, Farnor. From what I’ve heard from Bildar and Edrien I’m satisfied that your behaviour was reasonable, and that it was EmRan who was in the wrong. But now it’s been raised publicly…’ He paused uncomfortably for a moment. ‘I can’t force you, but I think it would be better for all of us if you could come with me to the Congress tonight and say why you did what you did. And tell them whatever else you feel you can.’

Farnor looked at Angwen, alarmed at this unex-pected turn of events. She nodded slightly, and laid her hand on her heart significantly. ‘Everyone speaks freely and without fear of reproach in the Congress. Farnor. Go and listen to them. Understand their fear. And then speak to them so that they’ll understand yours.’

‘And if they don’t understand?’ he asked.

Neither Derwyn nor Angwen replied.