The Ancient Enemy (17 page)

After breakfast in the tavern's capacious kitchen, Thru took up his bat and walked the streets of the village behind the others while Hob shouted out his challenge.

"One throw for a shilling and win twenty shillings if you can hit the red."

That brought out a few interested parties. They told their friends.

"Win twenty shillings if you can hit the red?"

"You're on!"

Nuza performed on the village green with the other tumblers and jugglers. Toshak gave his usual display of skill with the sword, and then Thru went to the Game Tree and took his stance. Judging the contest was sturdy old Lemser, the captain of the Justero Village team.

There were quite a few young mots who thought themselves pretty good at throwing. They paid their shillings to Hob and stepped up to the line. The balls came whizzing in, hard, high, low, and wide. Thru eyed them, chose the ones that were on target, slid into his formidable batting kyo, and drove them back with one loud
crack
after another while a spellbound crowd watched a display of batting prowess the like of which they had never seen.

Several of the biggest young throwers were convinced they could still get past him. They kept on laying out shillings, and stepping to the line. But nothing got by him that might hit the red zone on the Tree.

When the last of the young throwers gave up after five attempts, Thru stepped away to applause. He was sixty shillings to the better. He gave twenty to Nuza for the troupe, and kept the rest.

"You see," said Nuza. "I told you it would work. You're famous, my love. Everyone's heard of Thru Gillo who hit seventy-seven runs in a single game."

"They didn't give up easily."

"Well, of course not. Twenty shillings is a goodly sum to win. And then there's the fame of being the one to throw out Thru Gillo at the Game Tree."

"And someone's going to get past me someday. Can't hit every ball."

"You were good today. I bet the Laughing Fish wish they had you on the field for them tonight." It would be the final game against Yupay Village that night, and sure enough the Laughing Fish would miss him in their batting order.

From Justero they went on to Rapuste, up the Slie River, then to Sonf and finally into Tamf. In Rapuste he struck forty-nine balls cleanly away before one got past him. Then he struck another eighteen before everyone was satisfied. He was left with forty-seven shillings. He gave Nuza fifteen and put most of the rest into the chest.

In Tamf he faced nearly a hundred balls and drove forty to the boundary, while only one got past him to nick the red pole. He took eighty shillings, paid twenty more into the coffers of the troupe, and now had more than three hundred to his account.

But summer was coming to a close. The vine leaves were already turning scarlet in the wine country of Tamf. The maples up north would be in their glory soon. It was time for Thru to get back to Warkeen Village, to help the family get in everything from the fields and the seapond. There was always a tremendous amount of physical labor required for the harvest, and no son of Ware Gillo would shirk it.

He took his purse from the troupe's chest in the form of three fat gold crowns and sixty small silver shillings and at the market in Tamf he bought a pair of fine chisels for Ware and several bolts of the finest Mauste silk. Thus equipped with presents for everyone, he bought a passage north to Warkeen aboard the fishing boat,
Conch
, skippered by Captain Olok, a weird-looking old mot; one-eyed, with almost white fur on his head and shoulders.

Olok was heading up to the Guni channel, where the mackerel would soon be leaping in their millions. For the consideration of a few shillings from Thru's purse, Olok would be happy to put him ashore on the sand outside Warkeen.

On the stone jetty at Tamf harbor he and Nuza said farewell, with tears and kisses and many hugs, before he finally stepped aboard the
Conch
. It felt like he was tearing off a limb, but eventually he let go of her hand.

"I will come back after the frost. The fishing boats will be heading south then, back from the banks."

Nuza waved from the jetty. "Until then, my love. I will be in my family's old house awaiting your return."

The command to slip the ropes came down from Olok's place behind the tiller and the
Conch
, a forty-foot cog with a single mast, moved away from the jetty. The sail was run up and began to billow on a fresh breeze from the south.

He waved, but after a while there was only the distant line of the jetty to be seen, and then it was obscured by the northern headland.

Captain Olok had a reputation as a sea mystic and that night, after a meal of fish chowder, biscuit, and seabeer, he regaled Thru with tales of the sea.

He had actually seen mysterious beings like the Sea Mors, who swam in the ocean and sang to sailors to draw them onto the rocks.

"But why would they do that?"

"None can say, but 'tis thought they want to make love to them."

Thru shook his head at such a fantastic story.

The other members of the crew, Ushk and Duldli, were stolid types, well used to their captain's wild tales. They sipped their seabeer in silence and chewed seaweed every so often for the taste.

Thru spent his hours on watch alert to anything like the sound of Sea Mors wailing in the surf, but the
Conch
just kept sailing northward, driven by a steady wind out of the south all that first night. Once he thought he spied a light somewhere in toward the land on their right side, but it lasted only a moment. He heard nothing out of the ordinary.

After beating up the coast past distant Dronned, the
Conch
put into the estuary of the Dristen River. Soon they were passing seaponds to left and right and then while the
Conch
cast an anchor they let down the dinghy and Ushk rowed Thru ashore.

Thru gave him three shillings and stepped ashore onto the shingle of Warkeen beach. There was a definite bite in the air. Autumn had come to the Land.

"See you in a month's time, young Thru Gillo," said Ushk as he pushed off and rowed back through the waves toward the waiting fishing cog.

Thru turned about and walked up the beach to the lane.

Harvest festival lasted four days in Warkeen Village, as it did all across the northern part of the Land, where winter bit more deeply than in the south. Fueled by the new season's beer, the usual dancing and singing filled the evenings in the village hall.

The Harvest festival was a traditional time for weddings in Warkeen Village, and that year there were four, including that of Snejet Gillo, who was wed to Oiv Melbist, a distant cousin of Snejet's mother. Oiv held some good polder and a full field on the north bank of the Dristen. He would move into the Gillo household, as was customary for newlywed sons-in-law, and remain for three summers.

The ceremony at the old oak tree had most of the village in attendance. Afterward trestle tables were laid out in the village hall and a tremendous dinner was served up. The piece de resistance was Ual Gillo's grand sweet pudding served with custard sauce. Throughout the proceedings there were toasts from all the relatives and friends. By the time everything was eaten there were restless feet under the tables.

The fiddlers and drummers soon took up their instruments, and the dancing began.

Standing in the front row at the ceremony, Thru had felt a quiet pride in seeing that the cloth he'd bought Snejet in Dronned had been used to make her wedding cape. The vibrant yellow-and-blue stars stood out spectacularly against the white of her dress. As they sang the wedding song in unison, Thru noted that his sister looked radiantly happy. Thru knew that Oiv was well set with polder and field and that he had a reputation as a hard worker himself. Moreover, Ual was ecstatic about the marriage. Still, Thru might have wished for a bit more wit in his first brother-in-law. But Snej was very happy with him, and that was what counted.

Later, after the dancing had begun, Thru went up to young Oiv and embraced him. Oiv was darker and slighter in build, but Thru sensed he was strong and good of heart.

"You take care of my sister, Oiv. Don't let her work herself to death."

"I will try to stop her, but you know how head strong she is."

Snejet came up and embraced both of them.

"What do you think of him, Thru?"

Thru looked over at Oiv. "He seems a good one for you Snej. I think you two will be very happy."

"What about you, Thru? Will you be happy? I worry about my beloved brother wandering the face of the earth with no home."

Thru chuckled. "But I have more than one home now. I have a home with the troupe and with Nuza. And I still have a home here."

"You're living with an acrobat! Mother is seething, you know. All her plans have come to nothing."

"Oh I know. I'm a disappointment to her. But at Highnoth they told me that some mots are meant to leave their home villages and move around the Land. Mixes folk up, keeps our breed strong and true."

"Well, Oiv and I have a family. How about you and your lovely acrobat?"

"I think so. Nuza says she wants to settle down soon and have some children."

"And where will you live then?"

"Well, I don't know. Maybe in Tamf, maybe Dronned, maybe here in Warkeen."

Just then a squad of determined-looking chooks came up to present Snejet with a crown of flowers and the best wishes of all the chook clans in the village. Feathers were flying as the big birds jumped up and down and flapped their wings.

Eventually the bonfire was lit and the King of Sloth, a dummy tied to his throne, was brought out. Round and round the fire they marched, singing the harvest song, with the king riding on the shoulders of four mots. Then they pitched the king into the fire and everyone cheered as the straw mot burned and took the rule of sloth away from the village for another year.

More barrels of new ale were being broached. Foaming mugs were held high. The hops from the early part of the summer were dry, the new barley was in, and the strong ales of autumn were brewed once more, but as a consequence, Harvest festival also had a reputation for clownish behavior and fistfights.

Fistfights were discouraged, of course, although a few were inevitable. Clownish behavior on the other hand, was encouraged. After the hard labor of getting in the harvest, it was good for everyone to unwind. Masks and funny hats, often handed down for generations, were common at the evening revels.

The wild music was kicking up again, and the village threw itself back into the toe-to-heel, arm-in-arm, around-and-around kind of dancing that had always marked this night of celebration. The whole village was jumping, with the chooks crowing from the rooftops.

Thru took a breather after a while and got himself a fresh mug of ale. He slipped to the back of the crowd, where the benches were set up, and took a seat. Ware came and sat beside him. For a few moments they sat there together, sipping the ale and staring at the flames.

"We worked hard this year, didn't we, Father?"

"I was thankful that you came back, son."

"Oh, I wouldn't have let you down."

They sipped for a moment.

"So what will you do now, my son?"

"The repairs in the seapond need to be in place before the winter storms, but that will take only a few days with Oiv and Gil both working. When that's done then I hope to get my passage back to Tamf. The mackerel boats will be passing soon. Captain Olok was going to look for me on his way back south."

"How long will you stay in Tamf?"

" 'Til spring. Then the troupe will take to the road, and I'll go with them."

Ware grimaced. "My son, this sounds like a vague, uncertain kind of life. You intend to wander forever?"

"Well, I can work through the winter on my weaves and sell them in the summer. You said yourself that I had earned good money on my expedition to Dronned. And I can earn money in the summer just by swinging a bat."

"Yes, my son, but only while you are young and have those quick wrists."

"Well, perhaps by the time I slow down I'll have gained entry to the Guild in Dronned. Then I can live in the town and weave full-time."

"Mmm, I suppose. You've set your course by an uncertain star, my son, but you have great talent. I don't doubt that somehow you'll do well."

"Thank you, Father, that means a lot to me, knowing that you understand. And while I'm young I'll be able to roam all over the Land, which is something I love to do. Nuza says we may even go to Mauste next summer."

Ware's eyebrows rose. "Mauste? As far as that? Well, I'll be blessed, that's a long way to go to juggle and bat the ball."

"But I will always come back to help with the harvest."

"You know we'll need you."

"Aye, Father, though you'll have Oiv and Snej too."

"Oh yes, and Oiv's a good worker. Of course he has his own land to work, and Snej will be a mother in no time, you mark my words. She'll have her hands full with youngsters, and that always cuts down a mor's time in the seapond."

"And Gil is grown now."

"Aye, Gil is a farmer in his bones. He will stay."

Gil was a sleepy-eyed young mot, with a gentle heart and a steady way about him, but little of the brilliance that had shown in the first son. Ware was still amazed by what his firstborn had grown up to become. Living with an acrobat in another realm! Earning money by hitting the white ball and weaving artistic mats. Such things were far away indeed from working good polder.

Together they looked over the festive scene. Mots and brilbies were dancing, the musicians were absorbed in their music, and the crowd was clapping along. A gang of chooks led by Tucka and Pok was bobbing about behind the musicians.

"I have not seen Pern Treevi throughout this festival," Thru commented.

"Oh, you don't see that one down here much anymore. He's got his mor locked up in her fancy house on that ruined field, and he stays in Dronned. He's a mischief maker, mark my words, and will come to a bad end."

Thru nodded, barely finishing his beer before he was pulled back into the dancing. Toward the end of the King-of-Dronned reel, Thru let go of his partner's hand and turned away to join the line of mots, idling to one side while the mors danced back and forth in the ancient pattern.