The Tower of Il Serrohe (12 page)

BOOK: The Tower of Il Serrohe
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In five flickers of the candle, we were all gone. Netheraire seemed to fly through the thick branches ahead of me as we clamored toward the dim moonlight above.


Perched finally on the top-most branches, we looked out over the slow waves of black wind tantalizing the treetops of Nohwood.


Far below we could still hear the Soreyes. Some were shouting in fear of
Loopohmin
attack while the chief and a few others damned them to hell for their stupidity.


Hidden knives came out of sleeves and stockings, and we started cutting the cords that hobbled our feet.


Not too far below, I heard a hoarse whisper.

“‘
Help me, someone. I’m stuck in a tangle of—’

“‘
Shhh,’ someone hushed us.


We all looked about trying to spot Narknose. Finally, an awkwardly leaping figure was sighted among the branches below the treetops. Narknose rushed by whispering loudly.

“‘
Go south to the old Nohome, go!’


We started to ask why, but he urged us on with a look, leaping unsteadily to the next tree to repeat his order to another group of huddled figures.


Just as Netheraire began to weave her way to the south, I heard the hoarse whisper even more desperate.

“‘
Please help a brother Nohman.’


Brother Noh
man
? That phrase sounded odd. Niddle-ai climbed up next to me.

“‘
You hear that, Nersite?’

“‘
Yeah, we better help.’

“‘
We are only “
another
Nohmin,” not a “
brother
Noh
man
.” Use your head, Nersite!’


He dropped down and I followed.


Suddenly a branch reached out and grasped me around the throat. The moon swooped down, crushing me below its immense weight. Just before it reached me, the clamp on my throat eased and then released.


As my feeble sight produced a semblance of reality, I saw Niddle-ai gripping a rope wrapped around a Soreye’s neck. A Soreye up in the branches? I could not picture a towering Soreye suddenly turned lithe and nimble enough to climb this high.


That’s what had me by the throat! I thought. Nearly killed by a Soreye in the trees. What a fate for a Nohmin! I don’t live right… almost.

“‘
Don’t wear out what’s left of your vision by staring, help me!’ Niddle-ai barked.


I tried to help him hoist the Soreye on up, but our desperate struggles weren’t enough.

“‘
Don’t drop him, boy; he’ll crash through the weak branches of the treetops.’ At that point, in fact, my aching hands slacked their grip on the rope.


The Soreye tried half-heartedly to release himself from the rope, but he seemed more afraid of falling than escaping.


Then Narknose leaped over to us and helped hold onto the rope. ‘Ah, caught a goat bird among the branches, eh? Ho, ho, this ought to be useful.’ He motioned to three young warriors nearby and they scurried over.


We bound and gagged the Soreye, and with the help of the warriors, we took him for a leaping journey like he’d never had before. It’s a wonder we didn’t drop him or go crashing down through the branches ourselves.”

 

 

twenty seven

 

 


The tiny, winding halls were cramped following an irregular circle around this lower level of Nohome. I barely squeezed through a small opening where the hall narrowed abruptly because of an intruding root. Just beyond the tight passageway was an oval door, curtained by a thick spider web.


I broke my way through to a sleeping room only slightly smaller than my own chambers back at the Place of Homes. Yet, somehow, it seemed close and confining. Perhaps the knowledge this place was honeycombed with six levels of passageways and chambers—room for a hundred fifty Nohmin now crammed to the gills with
three
hundred fifty Nohmin—made it seem too small.


Earlier, when we had approached the ancient cottonwood that provided a communal root house for the Nohmin of four generations ago, it had seemed vast. The Nohmin had outgrown this place and moved to the Place of Homes with more room for a growing population and a more independent life of root houses for families and individuals.


On the other hand, hearing the sounds of the Nohmin settling down in crowded quarters, smelling seasoned wood being cut and shaped into new weapons, and seeing passersby in the hallway looking anxiously at the ancient digging that hollowed out Nohome, made me appreciate this life of closeness… a strong communal existence. Yet independence and personal freedom were good, too. Too bad a sense of freedom and close community weren’t always compatible.


I darted my candle about, seeking out the rough glassed-in walls. Apparently glassing wasn’t as highly developed in those days. Dust and the scent of neglect permeated everything. Even my traveling pallet was reluctant to unroll over a floor long abandoned.


Behind me, I heard Niddle-ai and Narknose jabbering. Soon they broke their way past the spider web and looked around as if I wasn’t there.

“‘
This’ll do fine. Deep enough he couldn’t possibly get out once we seal up the shaft.”’ Narknose pointed to the ceiling as he talked.

“‘
So how much longer?’ Niddle-ai wondered. ‘The Soreyes must surely have guessed by now what’s up. If they could know the way to the Place of Homes along the edge of the forest, they’ll find this place, too.’

“‘
I swear I don’t know how they’re doing all this. It must nearly kill them to be this deep among trees. Still, they have learned the lay of the forest.’ Narknose shook his head and stared at his feet.


I heard a scratching, thumping sound overhead. As I looked up, dust and broken bits of glassed ceiling fell on my face.

“‘
Move, Nersite,’ Niddle-ai warned. “’They’re digging a shaft down!’

“‘
Thanks for letting me know. What’s this for?’

“‘
Oh yeah, that’s what we’re going to tell you,’ Niddle-ai said, embarrassed. ‘You’re sharing your room with me and… uh, the… uh…’

“‘
The Soreye!’ Narknose bellowed. ‘Come on, Niddle-ai, who are you talking to? A boy or an elder?’


Boy? I resented that term. They didn’t send ‘boys’ off to battle, did they?


Narknose seemed to read my thoughts. ‘Perhaps
young man
fits better. Anyhow, Nersite, you’ve got to sleep light with a Soreye in your room tonight.’

“‘
May I burn mint incense to kill the odor he’s going to make in here?’ I asked.

“‘
Whatever you like.’ With that he stepped back, and I got covered in damp soil smelling of earthworms.

“‘
Sorry about that down there,’ a voice called from above.


In a few minutes the diagonal shaft was fully open from the ground level, twenty feet up. With a conspicuous lack of ceremony the fully bound Soreye was dropped down the shaft at the end of a slender rope. Only when he bumped roughly against the shaft wall would he let out a muffled groan.


It was hard to imagine what a Soreye, raised on the broad open plains, would feel like in a place carved out for ones a fraction his size. I thought
I
felt confined!


There he sat trying to look haughty and dignified with dust and mud all over him, unable to sit up straight. Niddle-ai unwound the rope that had wrapped around him from shoulder to ankle and propped him up against the wall with his hands and feet still tightly bound.


A large round rock was lowered into the shaft with rough-cut timbers upended on the floor to support it. This rock effectively closed off the shaft about two feet up from the hole in the ceiling. I could hear dirt being piled back in the shaft above it, sealing it against anything but a concerted effort of many Nohmin.


The Soreye stared at nothing but the emptiness of his soul. Niddle-ai quickly brought out his glassing incense and soon had the ceiling melting from the power of his chant combined with the incense. As it cooled, it hardened and glossed in smooth contours suggested by the shape of the shaft.


The Soreye was too lost in himself to pay much attention. I somehow felt sorry for him, sealed up alive in a coffin.


Morning brought shouts and scurrying footsteps up and down the halls.


The Soreyes were outside. Although their entrance into the cramped Nohome was impossible, there was little comfort in that.


I climbed up a winding, vertical shaft hollowed out of the fat trunk of the cottonwood. It allowed me to emerge in the heights of the tree just above a horizontal branch. Thick foliage provided a protected passage to the outer edges of the tree where I looked down upon a meadow of daisies and wild iris that surrounded Nohome for a few hundred feet. At the northern, western, and eastern edges of the meadow lurked the Soreyes.


Here in this massive tree, we were unapproachable.


I joined a small group of guards near the top of the tree and watched as the Soreye chief dared to approach within shouting distance. From various battle posts in the cottonwood, a small rain of newly made poison-tipped arrows and spears fell, sticking in the ground in front of the chief.

“‘
Save your puny ammunition, Nohmin!’ Sydewynder’s hollering reached us, laced with pickled cactus and juniper wine. ‘We’re not crazy enough to attack your stinking tree. We’ll simply wait until you can no longer feed yourselves. As you can see,’ he swept his hand to include the surrounding meadow and forest, ‘we have plenty of sources of food besides sending a few men back to Il Serrohe. Haw-haw-haw! Enjoy your stay; it’ll be your last.’


He paused dramatically, then added, ‘Unless, of course, you want to reason with us. If you short-sighted idiots know what reasoning is! Haw-haw-haw!’


He turned his back on us and strode off with a calculated air of ease and detachment.

“‘
So, what do we do now?’ I mumbled to one of the guards huddled with me.

“‘
Who knows? Starve, I guess. Better than the desert beyond the Steeples.’

“‘
Yeah, I guess.’ Except I wasn’t so sure.”

 

 

twenty eight

 

 

“‘
And we shall approach the

Tower of Il Serrohe,

And say


Seer of the Bleak Plains,

What of the suns to come?

Prophet of the Seared Meadow,

What of my footprints preceding me?’

The Seer says,


A morning of dew and a night of cool,

If you wish to see, come up and look;

Return in the dawn.’”

 


Our captured Soreye repeated his modal chant again and again throughout the night, never using the same melody and always changing the sequences and rhythm. Finally, hoarseness prevented his further repetition, and I slept.


Shortly, morning came; though the only way of knowing that was by the sounds of the community stirring and children chasing each other down the halls. The Soreye was awake, his desert eyes shining in the half-light.  Niddle-ai was already up and gone.


I directed my voice to him though I avoided his eyes. ‘Do you wish to eat?’


He hesitated a long moment. ‘No. I want nothing from Nohmin.’ He sounded resigned, yet strained.


I got up and walked out. When I passed the edge of the door, I heard him speaking under his breath.

“‘
Fools, your Tower is blinding you. The far times require a patient, sharp eye. Act in haste like Nohmin and you allow them an advantage… for they are the experts of haste and overconfidence…’


He stopped in mid-breath. Perhaps he realized I listened just out of sight. I moved on, heading for the eating room on this level.


I returned with a thick slab of hot, chewy rye bread coated with pecan butter and honey. He looked at it as if it were poison. But hunger finally won out and he ate it as if it were merely mud.


As he ate, I found myself getting restless. It was hard to be in a room with someone so silent and sullen.

BOOK: The Tower of Il Serrohe
5.71Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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