In the Earth Abides the Flame (38 page)

'Legends,' the prince said amiably. 'It's a tradition that the minstrels retell the old legends and weave the name of whatever modern warrior they fancy into the story. I've never actually killed anyone, though I've seen it done. We've had a few border skirmishes with the wild men who live in the Mist, the green mountains I pointed out to you yesterday. Still, I was hoping you had brought some skill with you. Surely you must have some ability. Or did the Bhrudwans fall at your feet?'

'Something like that, actually.' Kurr chuckled. 'Though really it was no laughing matter.'

'What about Achtal? He can use a sword,' said Leith.

'Even he would find it difficult to leave Instruere now,' Phemanderac said. 'Besides, I don't think his sword would be of much use in locating the Arrow.'

'But he might have been of some use in keeping off the Arkhos of Nemohaim and his men,'

Kurr observed.

'So might we,' the prince interjected. 'With your leave - or without it, actually, for we have no love of this Arkhos - my father's best men will watch the roads for Nemohaim and his party, and ensure that he follows us no further.'

'That would be excellent,' said the Haufuth. 'We thank you for all your help, and our anger at having our ease interrupted at The Reveller's Rest has been somewhat reduced. Now, if you would be so good as to leave us, we will make our preparations for the meal to come. One can't be underprepared for such an occasion,' he said, licking his lips in an anticipatory fashion.

'Very well, my friend.' The prince laughed. 'Shall I leave you a knife with which to make another notch for your belt? We do provide something of a feast for visitors, unfortunately.'

'Oh dear,' said the Haufuth. 'See what trials we endure on this journey? Lesser men would not survive.'

'You will be more of a man after tonight's feast, I can promise you that.'

'Then you had better leave me to prepare,' the village headman said. 'But don't forget to tell me when dinner is ready.'

The feast was all that was promised and more. In all his wildest dreams Leith never imagined feasting at a king's table, an honoured guest among nobility clothed in courtly finery, sitting in the Great Hall of a real castle while minstrels sang of his deeds and those of his friends. The songs were not entirely accurate, but Leith did not have the heart to correct the minstrels, who seemed to have made such an effort.

'Eat up, Leith,' Phemanderac whispered in his ear. 'The time may soon come when food itself is but a memory.'

Leith heard the warning, but amidst the glamour and the revelry he could not take it seriously.

On his right-hand side sat an older man, a senior courtier of some sort, who kept trying to draw out stories of their journey south and east from Firanes, but Leith resisted talking about the Company, unsure as to how much he was allowed to say. The courtier had a mop of wiry greying hair, a lopsided grin and penetrating brown eyes, and an uncanny skill in getting Leith to say more tban he wanted to. He cast about him for a distraction, noticed several young women of the court eyeing him speculatively, and realised with a degree of discomfit there was to be dancing after the meal. Perhaps he could borrow the king's excuse and claim a headache: indeed, the small amount of wine he had drunk had made him a little light-headed.

His fears were groundless. To the chagrin of many of the daughters of the nobility the northerners were taken aside by the prince after the feasting had finished and introduced to a dark-skinned stranger with flashing eyes.

'This is Te Tuahangata,' Prince Wiusago told them. 'My father wants to know if you will accept him as a companion on your journey.'

'Greetings,' the dark-skinned man said, then leaned forward and touched noses with each of them in turn. Leith could sense his companions' unease with the custom, but did not refuse when his time came to greet the stranger.

'I don't want to give offence,' the Haufuth said carefully, 'but surely we will have to know much more about this man before we allow him to accompany us. He's obviously not from Deruys, so where is he from? And why should he wish to come on our journey?' The words were perhaps harsher than he intended, but it was late and he had consumed a glass too much wine.

The tall stranger frowned a little, but said nothing.

'Te Tuahangata is from the Mist. Believe me, the people of the Mist do not readily make contact with outsiders. You are being accorded an honour.'

'If meeting outsiders is so distasteful to him, why does he want to come with us?' Kurr was too tired to be conciliatory.

'Perhaps you would care to ask him yourself,' Te Tuahangata said with exaggerated politeness. 'Over many years of concentrated effort he has been trained in the rudiments of your language. He speaks almost as well as a real person now.'

'Oh,' stuttered the Haufuth, embarrassed. 'I'm sorry.'

'Are all you civilised people the same?'

'Leave them alone, Tua. They don't know the history.'

'They've undoubtedly made some history of their own, First Men cutting an arrogant swathe of well-intentioned ignorance across the supposedly wild and empty north. Still, they can't be held responsible, right?'

The prince's eyes edged with anger, but his voice carried something close to compassion.

'We should keep these things private, my friend. They're at a disadvantage here.'

'And it warms my heart. It's an uncomfortable feeling, isn't it, not knowing what's going on?'

Things were definitely not going well. 'Perhaps we are ignorant, or arrogant,' Leith said.

'Most likely we are both. So if you choose to come with us, we would be happy to hear about it.'

Te Tuahangata nodded curtly. 'You need someone to get you through the Mist. I know all the hidden paths. My father says it would be good for my people to be involved in the affairs of this land. I will come with you.' He turned on his heel and strode away.

Even Kurr was left a little breathless. 'Does anyone remember accepting his offer?'

'Is he always so prickly?' The Haufuth had still not recovered from his embarrassment.

'He has good reason to be prickly, and a lot more besides,' Prince Wiusago said solemnly.

'You will hear it from him if you are patient, or probably even if you are not. All I will say is there has been war between his land and ours, and his father and mine are attempting to undo the many strands of the ancient enmity.'

'Why do we need him as a guide?' Kurr wanted to know. 'Nemohaim is directly south of Deruys, that much I remember. I thought you were going to lead us.'

'I will, for some of the way. But if you want to avoid the main road and the chance of encountering the Arkhos of Nemohaim or his agents, then Tua knows another way to the Almucantaran Mountains.'

'How much time will it add to our journey?' the Haufuth asked worriedly.

'It will save us at least a week, though it is a hard road. The main road to Bewray, the capital of Nemohaim, goes south and west, while the mountains which are the subject of the Kantaran legends are east as well as south. Besides, the Mist is the most beautiful country in the world. It will do your heart good to travel through it.'

'The Mist?' Leith said. 'I've never thought mist was beautiful.'

Long-hair smiled. 'You'll see. I've been into the Mist many times, yet still I long to return.'

Phemanderac looked intently at the prince, and smiled in turn. 'My friend, I am almost certain that your judgment of the land's beauty is coloured by the beauty of one of its inhabitants. Am I right?'

To Leith's surprise the prince blushed slightly and lowered his eyes. 'She has my heart in her hand. I will see her again before the week is out, and I will take her to wife, no matter what the law says.'

'The law?'

'It is getting late,' Prince Wiusago said evasively, as if he had said too much. 'We know that you are in haste, and will no doubt want to leave in the morning. I have much to do before I can go to bed: dances to dance, wine to drink, responsibilities to discharge. I will see you at sunrise.'

After the door had closed, Kurr and the Haufuth exchanged looks. 'This is all getting out of control,' the old farmer said. 'We seem to be deciding nothing. Increasingly our course appears set for us.'

The huge headman grimaced sourly as he replied, 'When were we ever in control?'

THE ORDERLY ROWS OF WHITEWASHED houses looked a little grey under the leaden morning sky that greeted the travellers. Leith, Phemanderac, Hal, the Haufuth and Kurr were each provided with a horse. Leith thought for a moment of refusing, as his riding skills were rudimentary at best. He could envisage the discomfort that awaited him over the next few days; however, the others accepted quickly and he found himself mounting his steed, a small bay mare, before he could raise a coherent objection. The Escaignians could not ride, and shared the saddle with Te Tuahangata and Prince Wiusago. Gifts were given: food and drink, fresh raiment for their journey into the Mist and the Sun of the South, and weapons. Leith had been given a sword. He fiddled with his scabbard, and noticed with pleasure that the leather had been oiled and his sword was sharpened and polished. He hefted the blade, then laughed at himself: quite the expert on weaponry!

The Raving King of Deruys came with his wife to bid them farewell. 'Walk when you cannot ride, and crawl when you cannot walk,' he said in his inimitable style. 'Ride through mist into legend; ride hard, and do not stop to sup at any fireside for the sake of your soul. The misty firesides shed too much light for people like us.' His gaze, artfully unfocused, rested for a moment on his son.

'When you can be that directly indirect, why bother to speak plainly?' Long-hair muttered.

'Yet I will stop by one fireside if I get the chance.'

'Deruys will be by your side when the Arrow flies,' said the queen in her rich voice. 'We will not bow low to Bhrudwo.'

The Arkhimm, now nine strong, rode down the cobbled path away from the tall white castle and the strangely enchanting King and Queen of Deruys. They were followed by half a dozen mounted servants, chattering excitedly amongst themselves. Guards saluted them with a great clash of swords on shields as they passed, for their beloved prince rode in their midst, and the northerners had been honoured by the king.

Out in the streets the citizens of Brunhaven went about their business in their normal efficient manner, sparing not a second glance at the riders making their way out of the old city. The morning was a little cold for early summer this far south, but the wind was off the sea not many miles distant: an offshore cold current brought spring fogs and rains to the coastlands between here and the Culmea, a land to the southwest of Bewray in Nemohaim, still many hundreds of miles distant. Tall poplars and rowan trees bent away from the breeze as they passed through the city gates and found the southward road. An ominous sight they were to Leith, who thought them like bony fingers crooked to the east in some sort of beckoning call.

A grey mood descended upon him, something akin to what assailed him on the forest paths of Adunlok. Now, as then, he was separated from his family, from those he loved and cared for, and was heading into an unknown land. When a mood like this found him, he would once have made his way to the lake near his village and skipped a few stones, alone with his brooding thoughts; but there was no such relief available on this road. He tried to isolate a part of his mind, keeping it for his reflections, while he answered the others with the rest.

After a while it was obvious he had failed, and so he kept a sullen silence which seemed appropriate for such a sullen sky.

They rode all that day and on into the evening without incident, while Leith travelled the grey roads of the half-awake, and so missed some of the most beautiful sights of the whole journey. For here in southern Deruys cold and warm air mixed, causing mist and gentle rain, with soft light which subdued the landscape.

Here they passed a still pool where tendrils of mist wound about sleeping willows; there they rode towards a golden patch where the sun broke through the clouds, her rays visible in the humid air. Animals and birds they heard and saw, and at the fresh smell of a green apple grove their heads jerked upwards as the scent surrounded them. All this passed before Leith's eyes, but failed to leave an impression on him.

Instead, through his mind passed the incidents since they had arrived at Instruere, the triumphs and the failures, and he found himself returning to one incident. As he thought more about it, he was left with an eerie feeling, a suspicion something had escaped his attention at the time, and answers were required. It was the same feeling he had experienced when Hal inflicted the Hermit with sickness.

What he remembered was Escaigne, and the Collocation; more specifically, his own words to the gathering. He did not remember exactly what he had said, but knew it had been impassioned and impressive, as though it was not he himself who said it. And this was the nub of what bothered him: perhaps truly he had not said it. Here he was, the sort of boy who could not ask Stella a simple question, and yet who dared to address a hall filled with strangers about life and death, purpose and loyalty. How likely was that? He thought of the night of Fire, and the few times since when he had experienced something similar: the voice that told him to speak to the Escaignian guard, for example. Had that voice spoken through him? Or had the experience itself lent him some sort of courage? Then he remembered the night he and Stella had spent on the ice, and how he had spoken to her, as if it had been Hal speaking through him. Yes, he thought. The two are the same.

This served to make him furious. I will not be used by someone else! he thought, not stopping for a moment to consider whether such a thing was likely, or indeed possible. 1 will not be another's unwitting tool! He could not put it into words, or even coherent thought, but he was tired of being seen through, of being totally predictable, of being thought shallow and being laughed at. A spoon for someone else's soup. He wanted some dignity, some mystery, some respect. If 1 hear the voice again 1 will ignore it, he decided.