The Swans' War 1 - The One Kingdom (40 page)

LIGHTS APPEARED ON THE SHADOWED RIVER—CANDLES IN STORM glasses bobbing like fireflies. Where the Westbrook met the River Wynnd it forked around a small island, like the tongue of a drinking snake, and here the boats all converged, the candles inhaled into the mouth of the waiting serpent. Tarn elected to take the northern channel, and Fynnol, rowing the minstrels' boat, followed. They soon found this section of the small river shallow enough that they could pole themselves along against the lazy current. The stars appeared, blurred in the hazy sky, and the warm air was full of evening sounds: rousing insects, creaking door-frogs, and the calls of night birds taking to the sky. The moon, two days from full, silvered the eastern horizon. Its rim appeared in the faint lavender haze, and then it rose, near round, up into the deep azure. Even Fynnol was hushed as they made their westing, and over the soft sounds of the evening, distant music drifted across the water.” Have we reached the fair already?" Fynnol asked quietly.” No, it is some way off yet," Elffen answered. The two boats were only a few feet apart, Fynnol and the story finder standing and polling them along. Cynddl stopped, drawing himself up to listen.” It's a familiar tune," he said.” Aye, 'Eventide,' it's called," Elffen said. And then added softly, "Gartnn used to play it sometimes.""That's how it's known to your people, but it's a Fael tune as well. It would be 'River Night' in your tongue."They rounded a bend and found the trees filled with brightly colored lanterns drawn aloft on lines. Against the shore, two men stood speaking softly, holding the leads of great Fael horses, which raised their heads at the approach of the boats and then went back to their leisurely drinking. Cynddl called out to the men as they came near, and they answered in their own tongue.

The story finder turned suddenly to look at Tarn, his face shadowed in the faint light.” Our journey's end," he said, his voice thick. He began to say more, but the boat slid up to the shore and eased to a stop on the soft mud. Tam and Fynnol looked at each other, and Fynnol closed his eyes and let out a long, slow breath. The Wynnd was behind them, and only the road north lay ahead.

"Come and spend the night with the Fael," Cynddl said.” I'm sure they'll make you welcome. There might even be some you know from that cold winter."The three Valemen glanced at one another. Cynddl was being kind. They all knew that it was unlikely they would find a welcome among the wanderers.

"We'll stay this one night," Tam said.

Cynddl gave him a bitter smile and nodded.” Yes ..." he said softly. He looked up into the camp, where fires burned and the strange vowels of the Fael language sounded. Tam had a feeling the story finder both wanted to go and stay. They'd become unlikely friends over the course of their journey.

"Let's go up into the camp, Cynddl. Perhaps you have friends or kin here."They stepped out onto the bank, Elise and Elffen quickly and with a sense of relief, but Baore came out last and slowly, looking back once at the river, where his gaze lingered a moment before he stepped up the bank and into the shadows of the trees.

Word spread quickly through the Fael camp that a story finder had arrived on the river. And if that were not strange enough, he was in company with three men from the far north and two lady minstrels.

Children gathered around the strangers, watching, dark-eyed and silent, and then a man approached.” Rath is asking for you," he said to Cynddl.

"Rath is here?" Cynddl stopped completely.

The man nodded and gestured for Cynddl to follow. But Cynddl hesitated, and his guide stopped, raising an eyebrow.” These men were my guides down the River Wynnd," Cynddl said, "and saved my life when we were set upon by brigands. Will you see to their comfort while I'm called elsewhere?"The man bowed his head, and Tam remembered his grandfather saying that story finders were held in high esteem among the Fael.

Fynnol caught Tarn's eye.” Who's Rath?" he mouthed, but Tam only shrugged in reply.

Cynddl was led to a large tent, well lit within, and admitted through the flaps by two men who stood watch outside. He hadn't met with Rath in perhaps five years and wasn't prepared for what he saw: a wisp of a man lying in deep coverlets on a wooden bed. He looked so small and frail—like a feather, Cynddl thought suddenly, and found himself fighting back tears. The tent had a stale odor, like sweat and the faint smell of urine, though this was partially masked by the scent of freshly laundered bedding. Rath was propped up on pillows, and two women sat by his side: the ever-practical Nann and another woman—white as snow, pale-eyed, and slight. Cynddl thought her ghostlike or like a lady made of moonlight. The nagar came immediately to mind. He had a sudden strange feeling that she was there to bear Rath's spirit away into the world beyond.” Cynddl," the old man whispered, and a tiny smile appeared on his face. He was as dark as the ghost woman was pale, but Cynddl thought his former teacher looked terribly ill all the same.” You've been seeking sorcerers?" the old man said.

Cynddl kissed Nann's hand, and bowed to the ghost who sat beyond the bed.” I've found only parts of their stories. But the River Wynnd whispers many unexpected things.""It is a strange old river," Rath said, "like an open vein bleeding the past out onto the land between the mountains. Staining it with forgotten history." He looked up at Cynddl suddenly, his dark eyes filled with cloud.” Tuath is a vision weaver," he said, reaching out a bony hand to the ghost woman, who took the dark, wrinkled flesh within her grasp of snow. Cynddl shuddered.

"She is a vision weaver," Rath said again, "and she has seen Caibre, carried back from Death's gate."Cynddl nodded.” Caibre and his brother. That is what I've come to believe."Rath's eyes closed.” Tell us your tale," he said.

"It is difficult to tell," Cynddl said.” So much isn't clear."Rath's eyes opened.” Then we'll try to make sense of it together. You will need a chair, I think." He looked around.” Can no chair be found for our guest?"A moment later a man came through the flaps, bearing a bent-willow chair for Cynddl. The story finder settled himself.

"Leave the flap open a little," Rath said testily.” Let our guest have some fresh air, at least." He nodded to Cynddl, a faint smile of affection appearing on his aged face.

"Nann has told you why she sent me north . . ." Cynddl began. Cynddl left out no detail that he thought might be the least significant, and several times believed his former teacher had fallen asleep. But whenever Cynddl paused, the old man would stir a little and whisper, "Go on."Candles had burned to stubs by the time Cynddl was finished. The moon had drifted up into the heights of the western sky.

Rath lay still for a long while, his breathing terribly shallow. Cynddl glanced at Nann, wondering if this disturbed her as much as it did him.” Much of what you say frightens me," Rath said suddenly. His eyes remained closed as though the faint light hurt them.” The nagar most of all. Do you know the story of the children of Wyrr?" Cynddl shook his head.” It isn't well known. I found it long ago and have told it to few. Wyrr was a great sorcerer...." Rath told the story of Wyrr and his children—Caibre, Sainth, and Sianon—and of the gifts Wyrr had given them.” Our nagar was Sianon, do you think?" Cynddl asked. A bony hand appeared from beneath the blanket and the fingers were pressed against the forehead, which was clearly the source of much pain.” It could perhaps be another—there were other sorcerers, many of them powerful, who lived in the Greensprings—but with what has already occurred I think it unlikely. It must be Sianon." "But why did she follow us?" Cynddl said quickly.” And how did she manage to escape the Greensprings?" Rath shook his head, and winced. His eyes were pressed tightly closed, his face contorted with the pain. Cynddl wondered that he did not cry out.” The nagar are a mystery to us, Cynddl. From Death's gate you say that Caibre came, but who has ever escaped the last gate? No one. And no one can. Yet Caibre is among us." "He was not dead," Cynddl said quickly.” That is what I think. He was in some netherworld—not in the world of the living—but he'd not passed through into the world of the dead, for no one returns to tell what awaits us there." Cynddl saw the ghost woman shudder.” Sustained by the love of his father," Rath muttered.” Or his own hatred," Nann said bitterly. Rath's eyes flicked open to rest on Nann, then shut again.” Tuath and her sister foresaw this," Rath said, "but we weren't wise enough to understand. This flute the old man gave you—do you have it still?""Yes, I carry it with me always now, for fear it might be stolen." From inside his vest, Cynddl removed the wooden box and opened it gently.

Rath's fingers trembled a little as he took the flute. He held it away from his face, turning it slowly in the poor light.

"Eber thought it might be very old," Cynddl said.

"Old?" Rath whispered.” No. It is ancient." He held it toward the woman named Nann, who leaned forward to look, but she did not touch it. Tuath also leaned forward. It occurred to Cynddl that she was the most wraithlike woman he'd ever seen: beautiful but haunting.

"It could be a smeagh," Nann said, and closed her eyes.

"We have been trying to remember every story we've ever heard about the nagar, Nann and I. In one or two you will find the word 'smeagh.' We don't know what it means precisely, but it seems to be an object to which a nagar is attached: like an anchor set in our world and to which they cling." Rath set the flute down on the coverlets and let his trembling hands fall by his sides. He laid his head back as though the effort of examining the flute had exhausted him.

"Then this is a magical object?" Cynddl said. Rath shook his head.” No, not really. It is the nagar that have abilities we don't understand. The smeagh is merely something they've owned.""What if we were to shatter this flute or burn it?" Cynddl asked.

"Oh, I think you would bring a curse upon yourself and your descendants for many generations. Perhaps you would find the nagar had attached itself to you. No, I would not trifle with a smeagh."Cynddl looked at the flute. It didn't appear to be merely an ancient instrument now, but something terrible—like a sword that had been used in a murder.” You think the nagar has been following this, not us?"Rath nodded.” But we saw it farther north, before we ever met Eber and learned of the flute's existence." "And didn't you tell me that you ran up on this island— what did you call it—" "Speaking Stone." "That you ran up on Speaking Stone at night? A place that is not only on a secret branch of the river but even, you said yourself, that the current should have drawn you past." Cynddl glanced at Nann and then at Tuath.” The nagar might have led you there," Nann said slowly.” We don't know what they might be able to do." Cynddl felt as though the world had shifted around him. He'd been carrying that flute ever since Speaking Stone, tucked near to his heart. He nodded at the instrument.” This once belonged to Sianon?" he said foolishly. Rath nodded.” Tell me again about this man your companions met in the north. . . . You say he had visited there once before?" "Yes, he had been to the Vale and was curious about given names that were passed down through the families there. I think now that he was looking for descendants of Knights of the Vow. I had a vision of Knights crossing Telanon Bridge—Knights that had escaped the slaughter of Cooling Keep. Two nights past I saw the same Knights within the ruined tower by Telanon Bridge. They were honing their weapons. Six grimmer men you have never seen. I think now they carried something away from Cooling Keep." "Perhaps this flute you've found," Rath said softly. Cynddl suddenly wondered if Alaan had found the flute in the possession of someone in the Vale.” At the keep itself I found part of a story: the Knights burned all their books and scrolls before the Renné overwhelmed them." Cynddl stopped.” But since then, when I see that great blaze of knowledge, I perceive another fire in the same place. It has taken me these weeks to find some bits of this story. The Knights burned one of their own grand masters—long ago, it seems—burned him for some heresy or the breaking of some vow. They did much to hide this act, and I've never heard tell of it before. Why they did it is still a mystery.""For making a pact with a nagar," Rath whispered, his eyes still closed.

"What are you saying?" It was like Rath to make such an intuitive leap. It was one of his greatest gifts as a story finder.

"The Knights had some way of bending the nagar to their own ends. Some secrets of dealing with them. But that is all passed now. Nagar are among us, returned from the netherworld, like a tempest springing up from the darkness."

THE VALEMEN AND THE MINSTRELS WERE GIVEN A COLD SUPPER and left on their own. Fynnol spread one of their blankets on the riverbank, and they ate their cold shoulder in awkward silence. The parade of lights continued past: boats going to the fair, most laden down to within a handsbreadth of their gunwales.

Three women came and stood not far off, gazing at the strangers and whispering among themselves.

"I'm glad we are providing them with some amusement anyway," Fynnol said.

"They're deciding which of you gentlemen they will devour tonight," Elffen growled.

"It's you they're looking at," Tarn said, glancing at the Fael women.” You and Angeline." "Perhaps their appetites aren't so common, after all," Fynnol said, earning him a gratifying look of shock from Angeline. She turned toward the river so that she couldn't be easily seen from within the camp. Tarn saw a look of concern pass over her face, and she shook her hair free a litde so that it hid her face. A horse nickered and shifted in the dark, and was answered by another. A breeze whispered down the river, waking the trees which hissed and murmured. Cynddl appeared, his now familiar silhouette striding across the encampment. A woman approached just then, intercepting Cynddl as he was greeting his companions. The woman was perhaps thirty, dark and lithe and lovely, as in Tarn's mind all Fael women were. She bowed to Cynddl.” The players who will enter the contest at the fair would like to invite the minstrels to hear them play and to judge their worth," she said. Cynddl glanced at Angeline and Elffen.” It is a compliment to be asked to judge Fael players," he said.” Of course we will be delighted to hear them play," Angeline said graciously, "but we wouldn't presume to judge." "If you have eaten, then ..." the woman said. The Valemen had all risen to their feet as the Fael woman approached, and they continued to stand politely, even though they'd been excluded from this invitation—which would have been an act of terrible rudeness in the Vale. They watched Elffen and Angeline disappear into the encampment.” They could have invited us as well," Fynnol said, "but I suppose we shall hear it from here anyway." "Not likely," Cynddl said.” The music will be made on the far edge of the camp. No one wants to disturb Rath." "Who is Rath?" Fynnol said, sitting down again. Cynddl too sat down, and stretched his shoulders as though he had been immobile for too long.” Rath is the most famed story finder of our time. For many years he was my teacher. But he is old now and sickly, and no one wishes to disturb his rest." Cynddl looked down as he said this, and Tarn thought he heard a note of deep sadness in the story finder's voice.

A horn sounded, tearing through the sleeping silence of the encampment. Dogs began to bark madly, and the great Fael horses reared and plunged in alarm. Over the chaos, Tam heard the deep drumming of running horses.

The companions leapt to their feet, in disbelief for a moment. Mounted men-at-arms thundered into the encampment, cutting down Fael women and men as they stumbled from their tents.

"They've found us again!" Baore shouted, and sprang to the boat, tearing free his shod staff. Tam and Cynddl snatched up their bows and began firing arrows at the black-robed riders.

There was a moment of utter confusion, men riding in circles and people running in all directions. Twice riders came toward the Valemen standing by the riverbank. Twice they were toppled from their horses by deadly arrows. Baore charged out into the melee, trying to protect the unarmed Fael emerging from their tents. Tam half registered the big Valemen driving a horse to the ground with a single blow to its forehead, the rider swept from his falling mount. Behind Baore a small figure waved a sword and screamed in defiance: Fynnol protecting his cousin's back. More bows began to sing.

A horn sounded retreat, and suddenly only riderless horses wandered aimlessly about the encampment. The raiders were gone, disappearing into shadows cast by the moon. All that remained was the weeping of the Fael and the cries of the wounded.

Tam found Baore standing, dazed, in the center of the encampment. The big man stared unblinking at a kneeling mother who held an unmoving child to her breast.

Fynnol took his cousin's arm.” There's naught to be done here," he said softly.” Death's gate ..." Baore muttered.” What are you saying?" "I've seen it grind open," Baore said, not moving.” No child should ever go there, not alone." "Who is Cynddl?" someone asked. A young Fael stopped before them, bow in hand. He too stared down at the weeping woman.” I'm Cynddl," the story finder said.” Then come with me. And bring these others." They crossed the field of carnage, stepping over horses and dead men-at-arms, over Fael who'd been ridden down or killed by a single stroke. On the edge of the camp their guide stopped before a figure lying limp and still in the shadow of the trees. Someone approached with a lamp, and the faint light crept slowly over the still form—morning light over mountains.” Elffen," Tam said, the air jolted from his lungs. Cynddl pulled off his long vest and laid it over the dead singer. Fynnol took a few steps away out of the light, and covered his eyes for a moment.” But where is Angeline?" Tam asked.” The other woman . . . ?" the man who led them said.” But she was Lady Elise, the daughter of Lord Carral Wills. Some of the instrument makers recognized her from their visits to her father." "She is a Wills!" Fynnol said. The Fael bowman stared down at the still form of Elffen.” Yes, but these riders carried her away."