Songs of the Earth (57 page)

Gair didn’t know whether to curse or offer up a prayer. He could hardly find the words for either. ‘I had no idea— That’s … there’re no words for it.’

‘You’ve never seen true evil, have you? Bred in the bone, black-from-the-womb evil, the kind that only exists in psalms and storybooks?’ Alderan’s smile was sad as he lifted his tea to his lips. ‘Neither had we, and we had no idea what to do with it. Looking back, we should probably have dealt with him differently, but we didn’t know any better.’

‘He should have been hanged for murder.’

‘Probably. But there’d been enough killing and we weren’t of a mind for more. So we taught him. He’d been receiving lessons almost since birth, but after the death of his parents we took them further, hoping we could channel his phenomenal abilities in other directions. We taught him everything we knew. In retrospect, that was our mistake. He soaked it up the way a suet dumpling soaks up gravy.’

‘And turned all your lessons back on you.’

‘Precisely. By the time he was fifteen we had exhausted our knowledge, but he was still hungry, and that’s when he found a new teacher, one over whom we had no control.’ Alderan refilled his cup, spooning in another generous measure of honey. ‘There are books in the library which detail powers that
gaeden
long ago had, but which we have not seen here ourselves. Savin devoured these books, and he sought to unearth those lost talents for himself. When we discovered what he had achieved, and what he had brought here from the Hidden Kingdom, we had no choice but to act. We gathered up every Master, every adept, every untrained apprentice with even half an ounce of talent, and by joining together, we were able to overpower him long enough to exile him from the Isles.

‘We thought that without the talismans he had been using here,
he might be cut off from his demon. That was our second mistake: he already knew far too much, and he burned out the talent in almost a whole generation of young
gaeden
in the course of the weaving. We think he has spent the intervening years scouring the world for another talisman like the one he lost.
Gaeden
caught in his path have vanished – burned out, killed, driven insane, we don’t know which, but we have not heard from them again.’

‘And you think that’s what he was trying to do to me?’ Gair asked. ‘Use me to find this talisman?’

‘It’s possible.’ Alderan looked at him quizzically. ‘I’ve been talking about demons here and you haven’t batted an eye. Didn’t anything from holy orders rub off on you?’

‘In order to believe in the Goddess, you must also believe in the Nameless.’

‘I see you’ve been debating philosophy with Master Jehann. I swear, that man could think his way round the inside of a corkscrew without starting a sweat.’

‘Actually, it was Chaplain Danilar. One of his better sermons,’ Gair said. He picked up his tea. It was almost cold, but now he was thirsty.

‘And do you believe?’ Alderan asked curiously, then waved the question away. ‘No, that’s a conversation for another day. We exiled Savin, and I think some of us thought that would be the last we would see of him. Certainly most of the people here have forgotten about him by now, or wish they could. I never have. Sometimes I have lain awake at night thinking that maybe we should have killed him whilst we had the chance, instead of just sending him away.’

‘It would have saved a lot of trouble,’ Gair said.

‘Probably would at that. That is my failing, perhaps: I’m not ruthless enough.’

‘Did he ever try to come back? Tanith said you warded the islands, but if he is as powerful as you say, why couldn’t he just walk in and take what he wanted?’

‘The wards we built were extraordinarily subtle. They were tuned to Savin’s mind, so that if ever he came close, we would know about it. He tried a few times in the first couple of years, but he never managed to break through. He knew we were waiting for him. This is the closest he has come since then.’

‘Whatever it is he thinks I have, he must want very, very badly.’ Gair drained the last drops of his tea. ‘I wish I knew what it was, if only so I could tell him I don’t have it.’

Alderan rolled his mug back and forth between his hands, lips pursed as he watched Gair at the window. ‘To tell the truth, I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out for yourself by now. You’re a bright lad, and you have all the clues you need.’

‘Don’t be cryptic, Alderan! Half my wits are still missing.’

‘The battle of River Run. The siege at Caer Ducain. Riannen Cut. What do they all have in common?’

‘What?’ Alderan had changed direction so unexpectedly it left Gair wrongfooted.

‘What do they all have in common?’

‘They were decisive battles in the Founding Wars. The Knights made a three-hundred-mile forced march from Mesarild to lift the siege at Caer Ducain, then they drove the clans back north of the river. Gwlach brought up his reserves and the Knights fought them to a standstill at River Run, then routed them at Riannen Cut. Alderan, why are we talking about the Founding? It’s Savin I want to know about.’

‘Bear with me. How did the Knights win? Donata loves to set this question for assignments to see which of the students figures it out. I thought you would grasp it straight away. And no, I’m not talking about the mouldering remains of St Agostin the Defiant.’

‘I don’t know what you mean. The Knights were outnumbered, but they held on somehow – something must have turned the battle their way, but I don’t know what it was.’

Alderan pounced. ‘Yes, you do. You’ve always known – you just don’t realise it. Come on, lad,
think
!’

Gair raked his hands back through his hair. Goddess, he had such a headache brewing, but he tried to reason his way through to the conclusion. Gwlach and his clans had outridden and out-fought the heavily armed but less manoeuvrable Knights repeatedly in the early part of the campaign, inflicting savage losses on their supply trains. Then, at the front line, the Knights had come face to face with a weapon that was impervious to steel, and it was wielded by women.

It hadn’t taken the Suvaeon too long to discover that women died as easily as men, but not before the sorceresses had flayed and burned and broiled them alive, and summoned obscenities from the darkest places to fling at the Church lines to wreak destruction. Yet the Church had been victorious. How? Alderan stared at him intently.
How?
What power could overcome that dark magic?

The answer drifted into his mind as softly as a flake of snow through an open window, but when it touched him it blossomed like a firework in the night sky.
Magic
. How could it have been anything else? It was the one true power in the world, and it answered to the call of anyone’s gift, any intent. All it needed was the will. Oh blessed Mother, the Knights had fought fire with fire.

‘The Song,’ he breathed.

‘Well done.’ Alderan sat back in his chair. ‘The very crime Mother Church tried to burn you for secured them their most notable victories in the Founding Wars. Not faith, not skill at arms or superior tactics, but guts and grit and the songs of the earth.’

‘And Savin?’

‘Savin is looking for a talisman like the one that Gwlach’s clan Speaker used to unleash the Hunt; more specifically, what the Knights used to stitch the Veil closed again. He obviously believes it’s here on the Isles.’

‘Is it?’

‘No. It never came here. When the Inquisition turned on the Church itself, we gave shelter to some of those gifted Knights who managed to escape, but they brought nothing with them save the
clothes they stood up in and a few books. Where the rest went and what they took, we may never know. The Inquisitors were very … thorough.’

Gair was struggling to keep pace with the revelations as Alderan’s words tumbled in his head like woodchips in a mill-race. The headache had worsened too; his eyeballs were being squeezed in their sockets.

‘Do you know where it is?’

Alderan shook his head. ‘Not for certain, no. I can think of one or two places where it might be, but I have nothing that points it out.’

‘So why does Savin think I know?’

‘Because of where I found you, in the Holy City.’

‘But Alderan, I’m
nothing
! Some soldier’s by-blow, an accident of nature who washed up in the Suvaeon Order for want of anywhere else to go. Even the Church wanted rid of me at the end. How could
I
possibly know the whereabouts of this relic?’

Feet clattered in the corridor outside. Someone rapped sharply on the door, then flung it open without waiting for permission. A sun-browned man in a brown cloak leaned in. He had untidy iron-grey hair and a face like an old shoe.

‘You’d better come,’ he said, his expression grim.

Alderan was on his feet at once. ‘What’s happened, Masen?’

Dark eyes flicked to Gair and back again. ‘You’d best see for yourself.’

The old man strode out of the door without another word, the man in brown close behind. Gair did not hesitate; he followed them along the corridor and up the tower stairs to the roof-walks. After all, he had not been told to stay away.

A brisk breeze blew in from the sea, scouring the purple pantiles and tossing the gulls about like scraps of paper, but it only frayed the edges of the banner of smoke that rose over Pensaeca’s humped green shoulder.

‘We saw it at first light,’ Masen said. Again his gaze flicked to
Gair, so quick that had he not been looking he would not have seen it. It wasn’t a hostile look, more curious, as if deciding how much to say in front of him, and settling on caution. ‘It’s coming from the far side, towards Pensaeca Port. There’s far too much for a house, and it’s been too wet of late for a forest fire.’

That left only one possibility, and though Masen stopped short of voicing it, it hung in the air loud as a shout. Alderan grunted. His face looked carved from stone.

Gair smelled the smoke, faintly, over the tang of salt on the wind, and something stirred in the back of his mind. A ship surged out of the mists in his head, flying a huge blue banner, and with a splash of bright gold at the railing.

‘Savin,’ he exclaimed.

Masen swung towards him. ‘What?’

‘Savin – he was on a Nordman ship, off the Five Sisters. I remember now!’ The snarling dragon mask loomed larger and larger with each pulse of pain behind Gair’s eyes.

‘Masen?’ Alderan glanced at him for confirmation.

‘A sandboat from Pensteir saw them at anchor off Pensaeca Port and beat round the far end of the island to put in at Pencruik instead. Six longships, the captain said, and at least one building already put to the torch. It’s a fair size for a raiding party, but Savin?’

‘We always assumed someone was sheltering him,’ Alderan said. ‘Now we know who.’

‘But he would never dare come here,’ Masen started.

Alderan bared his teeth. ‘If anyone dared, he would. Besides, I think Gair here has the best idea of his intentions. He says Savin will come, and I’m inclined to believe him.’

‘What about the wards? Savin cannot set foot on any of the inhabited islands without our knowledge.’

‘He doesn’t have to stir from his ship if he’s got Nordmen running to do his bidding, damn him.’ Fury sparked in Alderan’s
eyes. ‘By the Goddess and all Her angels, I should have strangled him when he was born!’

Gair kneaded his temples hard, trying to counter pain with pain and think clearly, but it was no use. Waves of menace battered at the haze of Tanith’s shield. In the middle of it all snarled a dragon’s mask that glared at him with eyes of flame.

Frowning, Masen touched Alderan’s arm and pointed at Gair. ‘Should the boy be about if he’s still so sick?’

More pain, worse now. Every pulse shook his bones. His skin strained so tight his blood must surely be squeezing out through his pores. He burned with it, and it was only his desperate grip on the wall that kept him from dropping to his knees. Only a tiny part of him heard Alderan barking orders, but each word stabbed his ears like a knife. The dragon roared, its scaly bulk twisting in the confines of his skull as it sought a way out.

Someone put an arm around him and helped him to sit down, leaning his back against the wall. A hand felt his brow for a fever; another lifted his chin. The brightness of the sky seared his eyes; he could hardly make out the silhouette of whoever peered into his face. A ruddy halo surrounded their head and Gair saw green against the purple pantiles; no proper shapes, only colours, churning his stomach until he thought he would spew. An acrid smell stung his nose, and then he felt nothing at all.