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

Chapter 9

Endryk reached down and touched the snarling dog gently. ‘Easy,’ he whispered. ‘It’s all right.’

Rhavvan’s hand was moving towards a knife in his belt.

‘Don’t,’ Endryk said, softly but urgently. Rhavvan hesitated and Endryk’s free hand extended to emphasize his command. ‘Nals isn’t a pet. He’s neither trained nor tame, he does what he wants. And he knows about weapons. He’s also afraid of nothing and if he goes for you I won’t be able to stop him. He’ll hurt you badly even if you kill him.’

There was no challenge or threat in Endryk’s voice, just quiet and patently sincere advice, and Rhavvan made no further movement. Nevertheless he could do no other than demand to know, ‘What’s he doing that for, then?’

‘My fault, probably,’ Endryk replied. ‘For some reason he’s very protective of me. He sensed trouble.’

‘Why? No one threatened you.’

At a further touch from Endryk, Nals grudgingly stopped his silent display and lay down. His head sank forward on to his paws, but his unblinking eyes moved relentlessly back and forth across the watching group.

‘Thyrn startled me with what he said, that’s all. Caught me unawares. Nals probably picked it up. Does the lad read minds?’ Endryk’s eyes belied the half-joking note in his voice.

‘Are you from the north?’ Hyrald asked, ignoring the question. ‘Your accent’s different from ours, but I just took it to be a local one.’

‘I’m here because I want to be,’ Endryk replied, ignoring Hyrald’s question in turn. ‘Where I come from is no one’s affair. Suffice it I don’t want to be reminded of the past.’

Hyrald looked at him. ‘And I don’t want to intrude,’ he said after a moment. ‘Not after everything you’ve done for us – we’re already considerably in your debt. But you know our position and if you can tell us anything about what there is to the north that could help us, I’d welcome the benefit of your experience.’

‘I told you, I’m not accepting burdens. You owe me nothing.’

‘But you are from the north?’

‘I’m here.’

Thyrn’s trembling voice intruded. ‘We must get away from this place, from Vashnar. He’s going to make dreadful things happen. He’s…’

‘For pity’s sake, be quiet!’ Hyrald snapped angrily, rounding on him. Everyone froze at his unexpected ferocity. To avoid their collective gaze he looked upwards and blew out a noisy breath.

The sky was clear and blue, open and wide.

It would be thus when they were gone.

Beautiful and indifferent.

Large white birds were wheeling in wide graceful circles high above. Their freedom seemed to sharpen his sense of his own bonds.

And yet? Something inside him shifted. ‘I’m not accepting burdens,’ Endryk had said. The simple statement seemed to ring through the arching sky, echoing louder and louder, subtly changing, until finally it became a silent, pounding question.

‘What binds you?’

It jolted him.

In the inner silence that followed, Hyrald knew that the asking of the question was its own answer. And one he already knew. One he had learned a long time ago. All things were as they were and must be accepted as such. Anything else was folly – sometimes dangerous folly. Getting through life safely and sanely was primarily a matter of deciding what could be changed and what not, then dealing with the former and letting the latter go, both wholeheartedly.

His spasm of anger vanished into depths of the sky. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said to Endryk. ‘We’ve disturbed you long enough and now we’ve obviously woken an old pain by way of thanks. There’s nothing up north for us, is there?’

Endryk opened his arms. ‘People, places, bad, good. Who knows, for you. Not for me, certainly. Not yet. Not for quite a time, I think.’

Hyrald nodded, then spoke directly to Thyrn. ‘It ends here,’ he said, his voice both grim and pained. ‘I can see no peace in exile, still less in continual flight – for any of us. Apart from the fact that we’ve done nothing wrong, we’re Arvens. I wouldn’t say we belong here no matter what, but everything I know tells me we’ll be lost beyond recall if we just carry on running in the hope of finding some strange land to hide in.’ Thyrn made to speak but Hyrald stopped him. ‘Listen to me, Thyrn. Grasp this. Whatever made you what you are, whatever brought you to this place, has happened. It can’t be changed or run away from and nothing but hurt is going to be achieved by denying that. You need to understand that.’

‘But Vashnar’s going to…’

‘No! I said listen to me.’ Hyrald became insistent. ‘No one knows what anyone’s going to do. I don’t know what you’ve touched on in Vashnar, something bad without a doubt, but it’s not the future. No one can know the future. Only in children’s tales and ancient myths.’ He scuffed the sandy ground with his foot, scarring it dark brown and raising a small flurry of dust. Some of it spilled up on to the toe of his boot, while the rest slowly dispersed in an unfelt breeze. ‘Who could have foreseen what I just did or where each tiny part of that dust would fall? And every least action makes the future. We’re all practical people here, Thyrn. We plan, we think, we anticipate, but always we know things will turn out otherwise… sometimes a little, sometimes massively. And either way, in the end, we have to accept and deal with the reality that comes to pass. That’s one of the differences between children and adults – though a lot of people never come to understand it, believe me. All of which leaves me with the knowledge that I don’t think I can run any further. Not now it comes to it. I don’t think any of us can. Too many ties. You’re free to go on wherever you like, but I… we…’ He glanced round at the others. ‘We have to find another way.’

Thyrn stared at him, wide-eyed. Nordath stood pale and silent.

‘Besides, whatever problem you’ve got with Vashnar is indeed a Caddoran matter, and quite beyond anything any of us here can help you with.’

Thyrn made to speak but Hyrald pressed on, earnest and encouraging. ‘Think about this. Somewhere inside you is a resource that will help you deal with what’s happening. You’re the Caddoran, not Vashnar – at least he’s only part one, perhaps.’ He laid a scornful emphasis on the last word. ‘Not only that but you’re one of the best there’s ever been – so everyone tells me. You’ve all the advantages even if you can’t see them at the moment. If you meet Vashnar in this strange way again,’ he tapped his head, ‘remember that it’syour territory. You can deal with him there. Don’t keep fretting about running away. That’s a sure way both to cloud your own vision and to bring a predator after you. It’s usually better to face what’s behind you than crash into some future that might well be worse and find yourself trapped between the two. Trust yourself, Thyrn, you’ve more in you than you know. I’ve seen that for myself.’ He became matter-of-fact. ‘Besides, it seems to me that this mysterious connection you have with Vashnar has nothing to do with distance. If you can somehow come together with you here and him in Arvenshelm, then I’ve a feeling that putting a sea between you won’t make any difference.’ He stopped, taken by an unexpected but obvious thought. ‘And he must be very afraid of you,’ he said, half to himself, half to the others. ‘Why else would he have gone to such an extremity as proclaiming the Death Cry? And against his own kind, too?’

Thyrn’s expression too, became thoughtful as Hyrald’s harsh summary impinged on him. ‘Idid push him out,’ he said. ‘I don’t know how, but I definitely fended him off. And I think he was as lost and frightened as I was.’

Rhavvan grunted. ‘I don’t think Vashnar’s ever been frightened in his life,’ he said, though to no one in particular.

‘He was afraid, I’m sure of it,’ Thyrn insisted, adding with an uncharacteristically bold stare, ‘As you’d have been, too.’

Rhavvan gave him a dark look but did not reply to this unexpected challenge. ‘More to the point, which way are we going? North, south, where?’ he demanded, avoiding it.

‘What do you think?’ Hyrald asked him directly. Rhavvan was taken aback. It took him a moment to gather his wits. ‘I don’t fancy going back to Arvenshelm or anywhere where people know about the Death Cry, that’s for sure. Even if things have quietened down by now they could flare up in a moment. We were damned lucky to get away, to say the least.’ He stopped, but no one spoke, forcing him to continue. ‘On the other hand, you’re right, we’ve done nothing wrong and we are Arvens, this is where we belong. We can’t run for ever. Apart from anything else, I’ve no great desire to be struggling to make a new life in a strange land, if only because I’m not sure what I’m fit for – or any of us for that matter. We’ve no trade, no craft. And like you, I’ve got – I had – a good life here and I’d like it back. But…’

He concluded with an unhappy shrug.

‘There’s something else.’ It was Adren. ‘I agree that whatever Thyrn’s seeing when he Joins with Vashnar can’t be the future – we’ve all dealt with enough market fortune-tellers who didn’t manage to see their own arrest coming, to know that – but it could be something Vashnar’s thinking – perhaps something he intends to do. And, as you said, proclaiming the Death Cry confirms that he’s afraid of Thyrn -very afraid – which in turn confirms that Thyrn’s probably telling the truth as he sees it. We all know Vashnar’s a bit odd – obsessive – but it sounds to me as if he might be coming unhinged. If he is, in his position, there’s no saying what harm he might do. Perhaps that’s another reason for going back. To find out what’s going on and do something about it.’

‘What?’ Rhavvan exclaimed. ‘Trying to get back to civilization is going to be hard enough, but walking into Vashnar’s office and asking him if he’s gone insane? That’s brilliant.’

Adren flicked her thumb towards Hyrald. ‘Thyrn’s just had a sermon about not running away, about facing reality,’ she said angrily. ‘Time we all did it, I think. If Vashnar’s coming apart we’ve got a duty to do something about it. We can’t just ignore it. We are Wardens, after all.’

‘We were Wardens!’ Rhavvan burst out. ‘Or have you forgotten we’re hunted criminals now, despite doing our ‘duty’ for years!’

She bridled. ‘We’re hunted, certainly. But none of us are criminals. I’m still a Warden and not only have I had enough running and hiding, I want to know what the devil Vashnar’s up to if half the stuff that this lad has picked up from him is true. Not to mention the duty we’ve got to the people who look to us for protection.’

Rhavvan was scornful. ‘Duty again, eh? And to the people, no less! This is getting worse. I don’t know about Vashnar going crazy.’ He waved a dismissive hand. ‘Then you always were a bit on the pious side.’

Adren stepped towards him menacingly.

Hyrald moved quickly between them, arms extended to keep them apart. ‘You’re both right. Perhaps Vashnar has gone mad. Even without what Thyrn’s told us, he’s hardly acted rationally, has he? But what we can do about it, I don’t know, duty or not. And right now we still haven’t decided whether we go north or south. We…’

‘It’ll be west for a day or so, in either case,’ Endryk interrupted. ‘South directly from here will send you back the way you came, and north will see you drowned in less than half a day.’

Hyrald threw up his arms and abandoned Rhavvan and Adren. ‘I’d forgotten,’ he said, relieved by Endryk’s reminder. ‘So we don’t have to decide right away, after all. We can talk some more as we travel – and sleep on the matter.’ His manner lightened noticeably at the prospect and he smiled at Endryk. ‘If I could impose on you for one more thing – a description of the way we need to go, as far as you know it. I don’t want to do anything that would leave us at the mercy of that tide again, but we mustn’t stay here any longer. There’s no saying whether there are any more of our “colleagues” searching for us, or how long it’ll be before Oudrence reaches the first decent-sized community, or what’ll happen when he does.’

Endryk looked at him silently. Nals stood up and wandered off. Rhavvan and Adren moved further apart as he walked between them, head low, eyes watchful.

Hyrald waited, loath to press his involuntary host for a reply.

‘I’d be happy to,’ Endryk said after a long, preoccupied pause. ‘But I’ve been thinking that I could do with a change myself. I’ve been feeling restless lately. It’s been interesting, but I don’t think I’m really cut out to be a shoreman after all – that shore is frightening even when you know it. And I didn’t realize how much I missed having people to talk to.’ He looked at each of his listeners in turn. ‘Besides, I’m intrigued – about you, about what’s happening here. If you don’t mind an extra hour on your journey, I’d like to pick up some things from my cottage and then travel in your direction for a little while.’

The suggestion both surprised and disturbed Hyrald. ‘Your help would be appreciated. We’re city people, as you’ve gathered – not at our best out here, by any means. There are far too many surprises for us. But we are fugitives with the Death Cry proclaimed against us. If we’re caught, you’ll probably be fighting for your life before you get a chance to explain who you are. I don’t know what a shoreman does to survive in this place, but I doubt fighting’s one of them. I’m afraid we’re not a happy find for you and we may well be unhappier company.’

‘That’s for me to judge,’ Endryk said, with an odd smile. ‘As for the fighting…’ He opened his arms expansively. ‘A little care should avoid that. There are plenty of vantage points and hiding places even here, and there are more as we move inland. And if any of your colleagues should come after you, don’t forget, they know the country no better than you.’

Hyrald was not convinced. They owed too much to Endryk already. Whoever he was and wherever he came from, he could have no idea of the risk he was taking.

Endryk took his arm. ‘It’s time for me to move on,’ he said soberly. ‘I think I made that decision yesterday when I helped you off the shore – or it was made for me, I’m not sure. Anyway, as you rightly instructed your charge before, change is as unavoidable as its effects are incalculable. It’s my decision and I’ll take the consequences.’

His manner was quite resolute and Hyrald found he had no more arguments to offer.

Thus, shortly afterwards, he was walking beside Endryk, following his lead. The others rode behind. Nals too, joined them, though he kept well to one side like a cautious flank guard.

Endryk’s cottage surprised Hyrald. His anticipation had been coloured by the disorderly construction of the shelter in which they had spent the night. What he saw now was radically different. Two storeys high, circular in plan with a steep pitched conical roof of heavy interlocking tiles and walls of well-pointed stonework, the building was not one he would have described as a cottage. It had the feel of a miniature fortress and looked peculiarly out of place amid the rolling landscape. Though no student of architecture, Hyrald tried to think where he had seen anything like it before, but without success. It reminded him vaguely of some of the towers that decorated the Moot Palace, but none of those had the solid purposefulness that this possessed. Still less were they bright and well maintained with orderly gardens at their feet. He could not resist expressing his surprise.

‘Did you build this?’ he asked, rather self-consciously.

Endryk laughed. ‘No. I didn’t even build the shelter, though some of the running repairs are mine.’ His laughter faded. ‘This has been here since before any of the locals can remember. No one even knows where this kind of stone comes from. It’s certainly not from around here. The last occupant was a real shoreman, the old man who found me on the beach and took me in, helped me, taught me the ways of the shore. I keep the place in good order for him.’

‘He’s away?’

‘He’s dead.’ He pointed to a small fenced area nearby. In it was a small, neatly tended tumulus at the head of which was a wooden stake topped with an iron ring.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…’

‘It’s all right. It was quite a time ago. And he died as well as any of us can expect to. Excuse me.’ With that, he pushed open the door and stepped inside. Though uninvited, Hyrald was contemplating following him when a nudge against his calves unbalanced him and pushed him to one side. As he recovered, he saw Nals circle a couple of times before draping himself across the threshold. Hyrald joined the others.

It was some time before Endryk reappeared and when he did it was from the rear of the building. He was wearing a sword and carrying a bow and leading two horses. One was a fine tall animal while the other was smaller and more solidly built, with the look of a good packhorse. Both were saddled and carried bulging saddlebags.

The three Wardens exchanged looks. Hyrald felt an unexpected twinge. He sensed that this was a man who could take his leadership from him. The thought shocked him a little. He had not imagined himself so petty. Nevertheless, and despite a stern inner word of self-reproach, it proved surprisingly difficult to lay the idea aside.

‘Sorry I took so long,’ Endryk said. ‘I had to leave a note for my friends, my neighbours.’

‘Are you sure about coming with us?’ Hyrald asked, concerned, his momentary discomfiture gone. ‘It seems to me that you’ve got a good life here.’

Endryk looked at the cottage. ‘It is a good life. But it’s not mine, and I can see it’s over now. I have to move on.’

‘But your friends?’

‘A manner of speaking. They’re friendly people – fairly friendly, anyway. They know me and they’ve accepted me as much as villagers accept anyone who hasn’t got ten generations behind him in the one house, but they’re not really my friends. They’re good souls but none of them will miss me too much. In fact, they always seem a little surprised that I’m still here whenever they see me. I think they understand who I am better than I do.’

‘Have you locked the place properly?’ Rhavvan asked.

Endryk smiled. ‘No. There’s nothing worth stealing. Besides, in a way, the place belongs to everyone. The next person who wants to be a shoreman will just move in.’

Rhavvan scowled. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said.

‘Don’t worry about it. As you said, you’re city people. You’re a long way from many things.’

Rhavvan’s scowl deepened, but he did not reply.

Endryk became practical. He patted one of the saddlebags. ‘I’ve got all the supplies I have in here, but there’s fresh water around the back if you want to water your horses and fill your water-bags. We shouldn’t have many problems with either food or water on the way, but we should start well.’

Nordath and Rhavvan took his advice and led their horses in the direction he was indicating. While the others were waiting, Nals left his post across the doorway and walked over to Endryk. The shoreman crouched down and began talking softly to the animal. As he did so, Hyrald noted the quality of the clothes he was wearing and the weapons he was carrying. They were simple and practical, and even though he could not examine them in detail he could tell they were well made. And his horse too, was one which would have turned heads in Arvenshelm. A twinge of jealousy flared briefly again but he stamped it out ruthlessly, marking its demise with another stern inner commentary. Whoever Endryk was he had saved their lives and done nothing but help them, and he had shown no indication that he wanted any part in the making of their decisions – quite the contrary. A calmer conclusion followed. A leader was a leader only for those who cared to follow, and fitness could determine everything. And beyond doubt, Endryk, with his local knowledge, could serve the group now better than he could. He felt suddenly easier, as if some shadow disturbing the edge of his vision had passed.

Nordath and Rhavvan returned. Endryk finished speaking to the dog and turned to Nordath. ‘Could I suggest that you and Thyrn take my other horse and let Adren take yours,’ he said. ‘He’s better able to carry the two of you.’ He looked at Hyrald. ‘But we should walk as much as we can. Use the horses sparingly – keep them fresh in case we have to run.’

‘We’ve been walking since we started,’ Hyrald replied. ‘We’ll manage a little further, I think.’ He motioned Endryk to lead the way.

Just before they lost sight of the cottage, Endryk turned and looked at it for a long moment. His face was unreadable. The others went ahead a little to leave him alone. Then he saluted and turned to join them again. Nals walked alongside the group as he had before.

It was not long before the undulating green terrain became dry and sandy again. After a brief but calf-tugging passage through some particularly soft dunes they found themselves once again on the hard-packed sand of the shore. They stopped without a command and looked out at the shining line of the sea in the distance.

Hyrald found his eyes turning up to the bright sky again. Whatever had been, whatever would be, this was a beautiful place. An inner resting point in the turmoil into which he had been sucked.

‘So clear, so sharp,’ Nordath said. ‘The horizon, parting sea and sky. Straighter than any line I’ve ever seen.’

Hyrald looked and saw it for himself. He cast a quick glance at Endryk, wondering what he saw.

‘Let’s mount up,’ Endryk said. ‘We can make some worthwhile progress while the light holds.’

As they mounted, the mood of the group became less expansive. Rhavvan bent forward and, with a significant look towards the sea, asked Endryk, ‘It’s safe, here, is it? We won’t suddenly have to run for it again, will we?’

Endryk indicated the dry dunes a little way to their left. ‘Tide doesn’t come much beyond where we are now, and not particularly quickly.’ Then he turned and pointed behind them, out to sea. ‘You were right out there.’ He shook his head and chuckled to himself. ‘You areso lucky. Those sand-bars are never the same two days running.I was taking a risk being out there. Maybe that’s why I’m coming with you – you’re lucky people.’

‘I’d hardly call the Death Cry and being attacked by our own, lucky,’ Adren joked.

‘True,’ Endryk conceded. ‘But then, you did win, didn’t you? Lucky the mist was with you.’

‘Lucky we were listening,’ Rhavvan intruded caustically. ‘Talking of which, what’s that noise?’

Endryk inclined his head, puzzled for a moment. ‘Oh, it’s only the sea – and the birds.’ He pointed again to the distant water’s edge.

Rhavvan squinted along his arm. ‘I can’t see anything,’ he said.

‘They’re much further away than you think,’ Endryk said. ‘You won’t be able to see them from here if you don’t know what you’re looking for. But there’s so many birds out there, they’re like clouds of smoke blowing in the wind when they take off. It’s quite a sight.’

‘It’s a lonely sound,’ Thyrn said.

Endryk pursed his lips and nodded. ‘Haunting, I think I’d say, rather than lonely.’

They moved on in silence towards the sinking sun.

Vashnar slowly stretched first one arm and then the other. Then he stiffened his shoulders and let them go. He looked at the dead hearth in front of him. There were no tell-tale lines of dust to indicate negligence on the part of the household staff and everything was in its place – pokers, tongs, rakes, all the fireside paraphernalia, even the wood carefully stacked in different sizes in readiness for ease of lighting on the return of the still distant winter. Yellow lights reflected brightly from the highly polished implements and from the equally polished wooden seats which stood on each side of the grate. Vashnar reproached himself. Surely he had not been asleep? He did not think so, for he felt no lingering drowsiness. But certainly he must have been deeply absorbed, he decided, for he had not heard the servants entering the room to light the lanterns in strict accordance with the dictates he had long since determined for the running of his house. Adding an edge to the reproach was a small, hard glint of anger and fear that this routine intrusion had indeed occurred without his noticing – a kind of carelessness that could prove fatal in other circumstances. But the anger did not seriously mar his sense of well-being and he shrugged it aside; it was the remains of a habit formed in days long passed, sharper days, when he had patrolled Arvenshelm’s dark and dangerous places, and indeed, he took some pride in the fact that he still had it. But it was not needed here. Now, everything was the way it should be. This room, its meticulous order, its buffed and polished surfaces, reflected not only the silently lit lanterns, but his will. It was good. Vashnar detested disorder, loose ends, straggling details, those strands of darkness which could emerge unseen and unforeseen, to tangle silently about him and bring him down.

He nodded as if completing an internal conversation and, wherever his thoughts had been, they returned immediately to his confessional discourse with Vellain, still sitting silently opposite him.

Her blunt response to his problem with Thyrn had been refreshing. As ever, it had been shrewdly judged. He was particularly taken by the opportunity she had seen to discredit the Caddoran Congress. That, he had missed. Not for the first time, she had shifted his view of events, and now she had jolted him out of the bunkered unease into which he had settled. Nevertheless, he decided, she had not been right to dismiss the problem of Thyrn so casually. Then, of course, she could hardly be criticized for that. She was necessarily unaware of the complexity of the many intricate details that locked together the structure of pending events and of which he was the sustaining force. Two simple facts clearly condemned Thyrn. No matter where he was, he could not be allowed to wander free knowing what he knew, especially as, by now, he would surely have passed it on to Hyrald and the others. And as for his reaching out and entering his mind again… that was wholly unacceptable! Vashnar shrank away from what he could remember of the anonymous nothingness he had become and rooted his decision in more solid ground. The incident had been random and uncontrollable, and the effect of another occurring in a more public venue than this afternoon – of his collapsing like a clumsy schoolboy, his nose bleeding incongruously – could not be calculated. Other ideas began to form and when he spoke to his wife it was as if no silence, no taper-bearing servants, had intruded in their conversation.

‘But Bowlott can be troublesome and matters are at a delicate stage; it would be politic to keep him unsettled. And having Thyrn and the others wandering abroad is too dangerous, no matter where they are. We can’t risk some random coincidence of events jeopardizing everything at this stage – a tale told to a wandering tinker, an inn-keeper, anything.’

Vellain noted her husband’s tone. Her eyes narrowed and she craned her head forward slightly, anxious not to miss some nuance.

‘I agree with you that perhaps Thyrn’s ability to enter my mind is something I should not preoccupy myself with, but it is still too dangerous.’

He fell silent, making no mention of the terror that the encounter had inspired in him. Faint household sounds drifted reassuringly into the room as the servants pursued their prescribed duties. Vellain waited.

‘I think several ends will be served at once if we send the Tervaidin after them.’