In the Earth Abides the Flame (36 page)

None of this came direct from the long-haired Deruvian who, though sociable enough, kept his purpose to himself. Most of what the northerners gleaned about their intended host came from the idle talk around them, until their long-haired leader made them keep their peace. 'It's enough that the king is what he is,' he told them sternly. 'Don't add to our embarrassment.'

Late in the afternoon on the sixth day they crossed the border between Straux and Deruys, a footbridge over a small stream that came down from the purple highlands away to their left.

The border guards made a half-hearted attempt to question them, until the long-haired man came forward. Leith distinctly saw their faces blanch, and noted the alacrity with which they waved the Deruvians through. The border guards had definitely heard of this cut-throat ruffian and his band, and were no doubt in his pay -or scared of what might be done to them.

'The Veridian Borders,' Long-hair said as they rode across the bridge into Deruys, waving his arm airily at the purple smudge out to the east. 'Beyond that lies the Khersos, the Deep Desert.

Our way lies to the west, down to the coast.'

'And between?' Leith looked out on the mountains ahead of them, lower but more rumpled than the stern heights of the Veridian Borders.

'Between is the Mist,' said Long-hair cryptically. Leith squinted at the lean young man in the service of the King of Deruys, but there was no guile in his face.

'Looks clear enough to me,' the young northerner said pointedly.

'Their name for it. The land gets a lot of rain; most often it is shrouded in mist. It is not part of Deruys, not yet. Highlands, covered in bush, not good for farming. A few people live there.'

'It's beautiful,' said one of the Escaignians, watching the sun kiss the peaks in the distance. 'I never imagined the outside world would be like this.'

'I can't remember why we stayed in Escaigne,' his partner remarked, turning in the saddle to face him. 'Can you?'

'It escapes me.'

Leith reflected a moment on the two Escaignians. So young they seemed, so vulnerable, removed as they were from their homeland. Last night they had sat apart, some distance away from the fire, talking quietly; trying to make some sense of the wide world. Of course they learned about it in Escaigne, but it was different -bigger, more complex - out here. They had not planned to go this far south, having decided on the dock just after the vast flood swept through that they would travel far enough to ensure that the northerners found the Road, then return to Escaigne; but they had been drawn into this journey, this quest, and as they continued it became clear to them that Escaigne itself was but one part of a much larger story.

The young man from Loulea wanted to reach out to these two people, to offer them some comfort or with wise words help explain their place in what was happening to their world; but he did not know their place, he did not have the words, and he knew of no way to reach them.

He didn't even know their names. The taller man, probably aged in his early twenties, was the one who had led Leith to the Water Chamber, and the Loulean youth thought of him as

'Bright-eyes': he seemed to wear a perpetual smile, and constantly had a cheerful comment ready to apply to any situation. The shorter of the two was not a man at all. It had been a shock to the Arkhimm to learn the second Escaignian was, in fact, a woman - though why it should have been surprising, Leith had been unsure on that first night south of Instruere when Bright-eyes had requested that his friend be given a separate room. After all, Stella and Indrett had travelled with the Company, hadn't they? Though neither travelled by choice, both became vital parts of their enterprise. Why should this woman be any different? Still, he had been so surprised he'd struggled to give the woman any mind-name, but finally settled on

'Freckle', for self-evident reasons.

Kurr had tried to find out their real names, invoking his authority as a Watcher of the Sixth Rank; but apparently their training had been somewhat better than other Escaignians they had encountered, and they simply ignored him. They listened politely as Kurr and the Haufuth told them the story of their journey from Firanes and their trials in Instruere, and contributed what little they knew of Instruian and Escaignian history. Leith listened too, and wondered wryly whether this repetition of the story was the way legends were made. Already their deeds sounded heroic, completed by figures larger than life, when they had actually been unpleasant acts done out of necessity, costing lives - and no doubt would cost more. Perhaps when the story had been told a thousand times he would be ten feet tall, the wielder of a mighty blade, before whom the doughtiest warriors of the world quailed in fear.

The sixth day ended in a blazing sunset and a warm bonfire under another black, moonless night. The next morning they came to a wide coastal plain and a main road with houses and small farms on either side, hiding behind well-manicured hedges and solid stone walls. Late the following day, after a hard ride, the travellers reined in at Brunhaven's North Gate, Brunhaven was a glorious city, straight out of a child's painting of what a capital city should look like. The walls were low, and the city climbed upwards behind them; whether the buildings were taller the further back one went, or perhaps the city was built on a slope, the northerners could not tell. Whatever the reason, they could see spires with pennants fluttering, domes shining golden in the sun, crisp clean lines, order and tidiness everywhere. Leith looked in vain for a stray dog, a beggar or an open sewer as they rode quietly down the straight cobbled streets, the clatter of hooves on stone painfully loud in the still midday air. To the left and to the right small plots of flowers decorated the margins of the road, and beyond the splashes of green, red and yellow the squat whitewashed buildings sat in orderly rows.

Looking down side streets one could catch glimpses of open grassy spaces. Leith took in a lungful of the air: no foulness, no reek. He could not help contrasting the white of Brunhaven with the brown and grey of Instruere, the quiet with the noise, the order with the chaos, the purposeful walk of the people with the aimlessness common in the Great City. Above all, there was no sense of the malaise that Leith had learned to detect in Instruere.

Directly ahead of him Freckle turned to Bright-eyes. 'What a dull place,' she said, shaking her head.

The palace was situated on a piece of elevated ground near the centre of the city, a high hill encircled by a white wall and a blue stream. Both the wall and the palace were constructed of white stone cunningly laid, producing a pattern pleasing to the eye, and from the wall a drawbridge was lowered so they could cross the stream.

'A real castle,' Leith said. It was the first time Leith had considered a building beautiful.

'Just like the castles above Inverell,' Kurr said to the Haufuth. 'One day this too will lie in ruins.'

A narrow cobbled path wound its way up the greensward to the palace proper, and up this path Long-hair led his guests. The soldiers and courtiers all bowed formally to him, and he nodded his head to them. The great wooden palace doors were swung open by two tall guards in full regalia, trumpets were blown, formal words exchanged and the group ushered through a myriad of corridors to a large pillared and vaulted hall. The throne room.

Behind the throne a single arched stained-glass window cast multicoloured light into the hall, illuminating the ranks of courtiers attending the king, the carved throne, the white-robed figure seated upon it and the golden crown set upon his head. The simplicity, the elegance, the beauty of it took Leith's breath away. Could this truly be happening to a village boy from the North March of Firanes? Now the King of Deruys stood and beckoned to the group, and Long-hair led them across the blood-red carpet to the dais upon which the throne stood.

Leith was uncomfortably conscious of their attire - their simple, travel-stained cloaks, their backpacks, their weary, grimy faces -in the midst of all this finery.

The Haufuth drew close to Kurr. 'I wish Indrett were here,' he whispered. 'She spent most of her life in a palace. She'd know what to do.'

'Say as little as possible, and speak truthfully when you do,' the old farmer replied. 'Deruys has no reputation for evildoing.'

'Neither did Instruere,' the village headman shot back.

The group mounted the steps to the throne, and Leith was able to get a good look at the Raving King of Deruys, as Long-hair's men had named him. He was an old man, Leith knew, at least seventy years old, but his fair face, framed by long white hair, was remarkably unlined. His face wore a slight smile, the eyes a rheumy vagueness. Leith had not known what to expect. The fashion with which their journey had been forcibly interrupted and the rumours of this man had not prepared him for the gentleness he read in the king.

'My son,' the king said in a clear, pleasant voice; and, to the surprise of the Arkhimm, Long-hair stepped forward. 'My lord,' he said, and bowed.

'Gatherer of flowers and stones, be welcome in our halls. Have you planted them to see which will grow?' the king asked.

'No, my lord,' said Long-hair. He appeared to expect this sort of question. 'I left that task to those who have better skills at gardening.'

The old man smiled. 'And where is my queen?'

'Awaiting your command, my lord,' came a low, rich voice from amongst the courtiers. 'Just growing a few flowers of my own.'

Leith looked at Phemanderac, who shrugged his shoulders in reply to the unspoken question.

The queen came forward and stood by her husband's throne. She was a much younger woman, short but slender, not much older than Leith's own mother, perhaps. But what took Leith's breath away was the look of keen intelligence on her face; the gaze of an eagle she had, and her formidable eyes gripped whomever they alighted on like the talons of a bird of prey.

She cast her gaze over the members of the Arkhimm, then turned to the king.

'Perhaps we should water them, my lord.'

The king nodded sagely, then extended a hand to his guests. 'Come and receive our blessing, travellers from afar,' he said. 'We extend the bounty of our kingdom to you.'

'Does that extend as far as showing us the quickest way out?' Kurr inquired ironically.

The king was unperturbed. 'Kurnath of Sivithar, late of Loulea in far Firanes, Watcher of the Sixth Rank; Warden Protector, sword-sharp and with a backbone of steel, be welcome.

Seldom has one of your rank been seen in this court. You, however, are not the leader here.'

'No, my lord,' said the old farmer, bowing and stepping back, flushing red all the while.

'Haufuth of Loulea; Heart and Life, ox-couraged and deep as a wellspring, be welcome. You lead the hope of Faltha at the nexus of all times. This hall is not big enough for you.'

The Haufuth's eyes narrowed, unsure whether he had been praised or ridiculed, but he bowed in imitation of Kurr. The king smiled his pleasant smile.

'Phemanderac, Dominie of Dhauria, Water of Life, mist-cloaked and far-eyed, be welcome.

You see too truly to be comfortable in our lands.'

'True, my lord,' said Phemanderac after he bowed. 'But sight without understanding merely magnifies choice and increases confusion. I search for understanding to sharpen my sight.'

The monarch of Deruys clapped his hands together and laughed aloud like a child. 'See, my queen? Water them and watch them grow!'

'But don't pluck them untimely,' she warned, her eyes on the gaunt philosopher, 'or they will disease and die.'

'My lady,' the king said, 'will you water these ones?' and he indicated the Escaignians.

'Assuredly, my lord. Ceau and Illyon, Watchers of the Second Rank, late of Escaigne; Rock and Pillar, dour bastions of the kind upon which Faltha will be rebuilt, be welcome. I grieve to have learned the fate of your nation.'

Twin gasps came from the Escaignians at her words, as much for the speaking of their names as for the presaging of the fate of Escaigne.

'Do you have news for us, lady?' they asked her. 'News of Escaigne?'

'I do,' she said, 'but it would be better received in private. The principle of rain in season is not mocked, though sometimes overmuch rain might fall. We would shelter you from the storm.'

The king nodded again, and Leith began to suspect that the power in this kingdom did not wholly reside with him.

'Things are always as they seem,' the king said, turning his old eyes on him, 'if seeming is understood for what it is. Leith Mahnumsen, peasant of Loulea, the fire about to waken us all, be welcome. The match is ready to be set to the kindling.'

'No, your majesty,' Leith said, in a flash of insight, understanding that it would be acceptable to speak so, 'the kindling is already alight.' I was wrong, after all. This man knows things like the Hermit knows them, but dresses them up so that others will not see the naked truth of his words.

The king smiled shrewdly. 'So you are a truth-speaker also? That is good news.'

Leith took a moment to consider the naming of the Escaignians. Ceau and Illyon. But which is which?

The Deruvian king drew a deep breath. 'Hal Mahnumsen, peasant of Loulea; Destroyer and Healer, be welcome. I assure you I know what can be spoken, and what must remain silent for fear of unmaking what it is.'

Hal smiled at him and nodded.

Now the king addressed the Arkhimm as a group. 'Warden Protector and your Heart and Life, the men who lead you, stand before me. I see the one who grasps the fire, and he who will water you all with knowledge. I acknowledge Rock and Pillar. I tremble before Destroyer and Healer. But where are the others? I desired so much to meet she of the Starlight, and also the Great Sufferer and her husband the Traveller, along with the Healer's Knight. Where is Faithful and True? What of He who Dares All? And the Soothsayer? Why do I not have the pleasure of their company?'

As the names were spoken Leith tried to use his insight to match them to the Company, but without much success.

'If you know the fate of Escaigne, you know where they are,' said Kurr. 'Which is perhaps a little more than we do.'