Читать книгу The Shining Ones - David Eddings - Страница 12

The soil on the western side of the Isle of Tega was thin and rocky, and since there was plenty of fertile ground farther inland, the citizens of the Republic had made no effort to cultivate here. Tough, scrubby bushes rustled stiffly in the onshore breeze as Sparhawk and his friends rode along a rocky trail leading to the coast.

‘The breeze helps,’ Talen observed gratefully. ‘At least it blows away that stink.’

‘You complain too much,’ Flute told him. The little girl rode with Sephrenia as she had since they had first encountered her. She nestled in her older sister’s arms with her dark eyes brooding. She straightened suddenly as the sound of surf pounding on the western shore of the Isle reached them. ‘This is far enough for right now, gentlemen,’ she told them. ‘Let’s have some supper and wait for it to get dark.’

‘Is that a good idea?’ Bevier asked her. ‘The ground’s been getting rougher the farther west we come, and the sound of that surf seems to have rocks mixed up in it. This might not be a good place to be blundering around in the dark.’

‘I can lead you safely to the beach, Bevier,’ she told him. ‘I don’t want you gentlemen to get too good a look at our ship. There are certain ideas involved in her construction that you don’t need to know. That’s one of the promises I had to make during those negotiations I was telling you about.’ She pointed to the lee-side of a rocky hillock. ‘Let’s go over there out of this wind and build a fire. I have some instructions for you.’

They rode away from the ill-defined trail and dismounted in the shelter of the hill. ‘Whose turn is it to do the cooking?’ Berit asked Sir Ulath.

‘Yours,’ Ulath told him with no hint of a smile.

‘You knew he was going to do that, Berit,’ Talen said. ‘What you just did was almost the same thing as volunteering.’

Berit shrugged. ‘My turn will come up eventually anyway,’ he said. ‘I thought I’d get it out of the way for a while.’

‘All right, gentlemen,’ Vanion said, ‘let’s look around and see what we can find in the way of firewood.’

Sparhawk concealed a smile. Vanion could maintain that he was no longer the Preceptor as much as he wished, but the habit of command was deeply ingrained in him.

They built a fire, and Berit stirred up an acceptable stew. After supper, they sat by the fire watching as evening slowly settled in.

‘Now then,’ Flute said to them, ‘we’re going to ride down to a cove. I want you all to stay close behind me, because it’s going to be very foggy.’

‘It’s a perfectly clear evening, Flute,’ Kalten objected.

‘It won’t be when we reach the cove,’ she told him. ‘I’m going to make sure that you don’t get too much chance to examine that ship. I’m not really supposed to do this, so don’t get me into trouble.’ She looked sternly at Khalad. ‘And I want you in particular to keep a very tight rein on your curiosity.’

‘Me?’

‘Yes, you. You’re too practical and too clever by half for my comfort. Your noble friends here aren’t imaginative enough to make any educated guesses about the ship. You’re a different matter. Don’t be digging at the decks with your knife, and don’t try to sneak off to examine things. I don’t want to drop by Cimmura someday and find a duplicate of the ship anchored in the river. We’ll go down to the cove, board the ship, and go directly below. You will not go up on deck until we get to where we’re going. A certain part of the ship has been set aside for us, and we’ll all stay there for the duration of the voyage. I want your word on that, gentlemen.’

Sparhawk could see some differences between Flute and Danae. Flute was more authoritarian, for one thing, and she didn’t seem to have Danae’s whimsical sense of humor. Although the Child Goddess had a definite personality, each of her incarnations seemed to have its own idiosyncrasies.

Flute looked up at the slowly darkening sky. ‘We’ll wait another hour,’ she decided. ‘The crew of the ship has been told to stay away from us. Our meals will be put just outside the door, and we won’t see the one who puts them there. It won’t do you any good to try to catch her, so don’t even try.’

‘Her?’ Ulath exclaimed. ‘Are you trying to say that there are women in the crew?’

‘They’re all females. There aren’t very many males where they come from.’

‘Women aren’t strong enough to raise and lower the sails,’ he objected.

‘These females are ten times stronger than you are, Ulath, and it wouldn’t matter anyway, because the ship doesn’t have sails. Please stop asking questions, gentlemen. Oh, one other thing. There’ll be a sort of humming sound when we get under way. It’s normal, so don’t let it alarm you.’

‘How …’ Ulath began.

She held up her hand. ‘No more questions, Ulath,’ she told him quite firmly. ‘You don’t need to know the answers. The ship’s here to take us from one place to another in a hurry. That’s all you need to know.’

‘That brings us to something we really should know,’ Sparhawk said. ‘Where are we going?’

‘To Jorsan on the west coast of Edom,’ she replied. ‘Well, almost, anyway. There’s a long gulf leading inland to Jorsan. We’ll put ashore at the mouth of the gulf and go inland on horseback. Now, why don’t we talk about something else?’

The fog seemed almost thick enough to walk on, and the knights were obliged to blindly follow the misty light of the torch Sephrenia held aloft as they rode down a steep bank toward the sound of unseen surf.

They reached a sandy beach and groped their way down toward the water. Then they saw other lights out in the fog – filmy, mist-shrouded lights which stretched out for what seemed an impossible distance. The lights did not flicker, and they were the wrong color for torchlight.

‘Good God!’ Ulath choked. ‘No ship could be that big!’

‘Ulath!’ Flute said sharply from out of the fog ahead.

‘Sorry,’ he mumbled.

When they reached the water’s edge, all they could see was a dark, looming shape lying low in the water several yards out, a shape outlined by those unwinking white lights. A ramp reached from the ship to the beach, and Ch’iel, Sephrenia’s white palfrey, stepped confidently onto that ramp and clattered across to the ship.

There were dim, shrouded shapes on the deck, cloaked and hooded figures that were all no more than shoulder high, but strangely squat and blocky.

‘What do we do with the horses?’ Vanion asked as they all dismounted.

‘Just leave them here,’ Flute replied. ‘They’ll be taken care of. Let’s go below. We can’t start until everybody’s off the deck.’

‘The crew stays up here, don’t they?’ Ulath asked her.

‘No. It’s too dangerous.’

They went to a rectangular hatchway in the deck and followed an inclined ramp leading down.

‘Stairs would take up less space,’ Khalad said critically.

‘The crew couldn’t use stairs, Khalad,’ Flute told him. ‘They don’t have legs.’

He stared at her in horror.

‘I told you that they’re not human,’ she shrugged.

The companionway they reached at the bottom of the ramp was low, and the knights had to half stoop as they followed the Child Goddess aft. The area below decks was illuminated by pale glowing spots of light recessed into the ceiling and covered over by what appeared to be glass. The light was steady, unwinking, and it definitely did not come from any kind of fire.

The quarters to which their little guide led them were more conventionally illuminated by candles, however, and the ceilings were high enough for the tall knights to stand erect. No sooner had Ulath closed the heavy door to what was in effect to be their prison for the next five days than a low-pitched humming sound began to vibrate in the deck beneath their feet, and they could feel the bow of the strange vessel start to swing ponderously about to point at the open sea. Then the ship surged forward.

‘What’s making it move?’ Kalten asked. ‘There’s no wind.’

‘Kalten!’ Aphrael said sharply.

‘Sorry,’ he mumbled.

‘There are four compartments here,’ she told them. ‘We’ll eat in this one, and we can spread out and sleep in the other three. Put away your belongings, gentlemen. Then you might as well go to bed. Nothing’s going to happen for five days.’

Sparhawk and Kalten went into one of the cabins, taking Talen with them. Talen was carrying Khalad’s saddle-bags as well as his own.

‘What’s your brother up to?’ Sparhawk asked the boy suspiciously.

‘He wants to look around a bit,’ Talen replied.

‘Aphrael told him not to do that.’

‘So?’

They all staggered a bit as the ship gave another forward surge. The humming sound climbed to a whine, and the ship seemed to rise up in the water almost like a sitting man rising to his feet.

Kalten threw his saddle-bags onto one of the bunks and sat down beside them. ‘I don’t understand any of this,’ he grumbled.

‘You aren’t supposed to,’ Sparhawk replied.

‘I wonder if they’ve got anything to drink aboard. I could definitely use a drink about now.’

‘I wouldn’t get my hopes up too high, and I’m not sure you’d care to drink something brewed by non-humans. It might do some strange things to you.’

Khalad came into the tiny compartment, his eyes baffled. ‘I don’t want to alarm you, gentlemen,’ he said, ‘but we’re moving faster than a horse can run.’

‘How do you know that?’ Talen asked him.

‘Those curtains in that central cabin are hanging over openings that are sort of like portholes – they’ve got glass over them, anyway. I looked out. There’s still fog all around us, but I could see the water. We passed a floating log, and it went by like a crossbow bolt. There’s something else, too. The hull curves back under us, and it isn’t touching the water at all.’

‘We’re flying?’ Kalten asked incredulously.

Khalad shook his head. ‘I think the keel’s touching the water, but that’s about all.’

‘I really don’t want to know about this,’ Kalten said plaintively.

‘He’s right, Khalad,’ Sparhawk said. ‘I think this is one of the things Aphrael told us was none of our business. Leave those curtains closed from now on.’

‘Aren’t you the least bit curious, my Lord?’

‘I can live with it.’

‘You don’t mind if I speculate just a bit, do you, Sparhawk?’

‘Go right ahead, but keep your speculations to yourself.’ He sat down on his bunk and began to pull off his boots. ‘I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m going to follow orders and go to bed. This is a good chance to catch up on our sleep, and we’ve all been running a little short on that for quite some time now. We’ll want to be alert when we get to Jorsan.’

‘Which only happens to be about a quarter of the way around the world,’ Khalad added moodily, ‘and which we’re going to reach in just five days. I don’t think I’m put together right for this kind of thing. Do I have to be a Pandion Knight, Sparhawk?’

‘Yes,’ Sparhawk told him, dropping his boots on the deck. ‘Was there anything else you wanted to know before I go to sleep?’

They all slept a great deal during the next five days. Sparhawk strongly suspected that Aphrael might have had a hand in that, since sleeping people don’t wander around making discoveries.

Their meals were served on strange oblong trays which were made of some substance none of them could identify. The food consisted entirely of uncooked vegetables, and they were given only water to drink. Kalten complained about the food at every meal, but, since there was nothing else available, he ate it anyway.

On the afternoon before they were scheduled to arrive, they gathered together in the cramped central compartment. ‘Are you sure?’ Kalten dubiously asked Flute when she told them that they were no more than ten hours from their destination.

She sighed. ‘Yes, Kalten, I’m sure.’

‘How do you know? You haven’t been up on deck, and you haven’t talked to any of the sailors. We could have been …’ His words sort of faded off. She was looking at him with a long-suffering expression as he floundered on. ‘Oh,’ he said then. ‘I wasn’t thinking, I guess. Sorry.’

‘I do love you, Kalten – in spite of everything.’

Khalad cleared his throat. ‘Didn’t Dolmant tell you that the Edomish have some strong feelings about the Church?’ he asked Sparhawk.

Sparhawk nodded. ‘As I understand it, they look at our Holy Mother in almost the same way that the Rendors do.’

‘Church Knights wouldn’t really be welcome then, I gather.’

‘Hardly.’

‘We’ll need to disguise ourselves as ordinary travelers, then.’

‘More than likely,’ Sparhawk agreed.

Vanion had been looking at his map. ‘Exactly where are we going from Jorsan, Aphrael?’ he asked Flute.

‘Up the coast a ways,’ she replied vaguely.

‘That’s not very specific.’

‘Yes, I know.’

He sighed. ‘Is there any real need for us to go on up the Gulf of Jorsan to the city itself? If we were to land on the north shore of the gulf, we could avoid the city entirely. Since the Edomish have these prejudices, shouldn’t we stay away from them as much as possible?’

‘We have to go to Jorsan,’ she told him. ‘Well,’ she amended, ‘Jorsan itself isn’t that important, but we’re going to see something along the way that will be.’

‘Oh? What’s that?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘You get used to that,’ Sparhawk told his friend. ‘Our little Goddess here gets hunches from time to time – no details at all, just hunches.’

‘What time will we make our landfall?’ Ulath asked.

‘About midnight,’ she replied.

‘Landing on a strange shore at night can be a little tricky,’ he said doubtfully.

‘There won’t be any problems.’ She said it with absolute confidence.

‘I’m not supposed to worry about it. Is that it?’

‘You can worry if you want to, Ulath,’ she smiled. ‘It’s not necessary, but you can worry all you like, if it makes you feel better.’

It was foggy when they came up on deck again – a dense, obscuring fog – and this time the strange ship showed no lights. Their horses, already saddled, were waiting, and they led them down the ramp to a pebbly beach.

When they looked back out toward the water, their ship was gone.

‘Where did she go?’ Ulath exclaimed.

‘She’s still there,’ Aphrael smiled.

‘Why can’t I see her, then?’

‘Because I don’t want people to see her. We passed a number of ordinary ships on our way here. If anybody’d seen her, there’d be wild talk in every sailors’ tavern in every port in the world.’

‘It’s all in the shape of the keel, isn’t it?’ Khalad mused.

‘Khalad!’ she said sharply. ‘You stop that immediately!’

‘I’m not going to do anything about it, Flute. I couldn’t if I wanted to, but it’s that keel that accounts for her speed. I’m only mentioning it so that you won’t make the mistake of thinking I’m so stupid that I can’t put it together.’

She glared at him.

He bent slightly and kissed her cheek. ‘That’s all right, Flute,’ he smiled. ‘I love you anyway – even if you do underestimate me at times.’

‘He’s going to work out just fine,’ Kalten said to Vanion.

The hillside rising from the gravel strand was covered with thick, rank grass, and by the time they had reached the top of the hill, the fog had entirely dissipated. A broad highway of reflected moonlight stretched out across the calm waters of the gulf.

‘My map shows a kind of track a mile or so inland,’ Vanion told them. ‘It seems to run up the gulf in the general direction of Jorsan.’ He looked at Flute, who was still glaring darkly at Khalad. ‘Pending instructions to the contrary from higher authority, I suppose we can follow that track.’ He looked inquiringly at the Child Goddess again.

She sank a little lower in Sephrenia’s arms and began to suck her thumb.

‘You’ll make your teeth crooked.’

She pulled her thumb out of her mouth and stuck her tongue out at him.

‘Shall we press on, then?’ Vanion suggested.

They rode on across a broad, rolling meadow covered with the rank salt-grass. The moon washed out all color, making the grass whipping at the horses’ legs seem gray and the forest beyond the meadow a formless black blot. They rode slowly, their eyes and ears alert and their hands never far from their sword-hilts. Nothing untoward had happened yet, but these were trained knights, and for them the world was always filled with danger.

After they rode in under the trees, Vanion called a halt.

‘Why are we stopping?’ Flute demanded a little crossly.

‘The moon’s very bright tonight,’ Vanion explained, ‘and our eyes need a little time to adjust to the shadows here under the trees. We don’t want to blunder into anything.’

‘Oh.’

‘Her night isn’t going too well, is it?’ Berit murmured to Sparhawk. ‘She seemed to be very upset with Khalad.’

‘It’s good for her. She gets over-confident sometimes, and a little too much impressed with her own cleverness.’

‘I heard that, Sparhawk,’ Flute snapped.

‘I rather thought you might have,’ he replied blandly.

‘Why is everyone mistreating me tonight?’ she complained.

’They’re only teasing you, Aphrael,’ Sephrenia assured the little girl, ‘clumsily, of course, but they’re Elenes, after all, so you can’t really expect too much from them.’

‘Shall we move on before things start to turn ugly?’ Vanion said.

They rode at a walk through the shadows, and after about half an hour they reached a narrow, rutted track. They turned eastward and moved on, riding a little faster now.

‘How far is it to Jorsan, my Lord?’ Bevier asked Vanion after they had gone a ways.

‘About fifty leagues,’ Vanion replied.

‘A goodly ways, then.’ Bevier looked inquiringly at Flute.

‘What?’ she said crossly.

‘Nothing, really.’

‘Say it, Bevier.’

‘I wouldn’t offend you for the world, Divine Aphrael, but could you speed the journey the way you did when we were traveling across Deira with King Wargun’s army?’

‘No, I can’t. You’ve forgotten that we’re waiting for something important to happen, Bevier, and I’m not going to fly past it just because you’re in a hurry to get to the taverns of Jorsan.’

‘That will do,’ Sephrenia told her.

Since it was still early autumn, they had not brought tents with them, and after about another hour’s travel they rode back into the forest and spread their blankets on beds of fallen leaves to get a few hours’ sleep.

The sun was well up when they set out again, and they travelled through the forest until late afternoon without encountering any local people.

Once again they moved back into the forest about a quarter of a mile, and set up for the night in a narrow ravine where an overhanging bank and the thick foliage would conceal the light from their small cooking fire. Rather surprisingly, Ulath did the cooking without any of his usual subterfuge. ‘It’s not as much fun when Tynian isn’t along,’ he explained.

‘I miss him too,’ Sparhawk agreed. ‘It seems strange to be travelling without all those suggestions of his.’

‘This cooking business has come up before,’ Vanion observed. ‘Am I missing something?’

‘Sir Ulath normally keeps track of it, my Lord,’ Talen replied. ‘It’s a very complicated system, so none of the rest of us really understands how it works.’

‘Wouldn’t a simple roster do just as well?’ Vanion asked.

‘I’m sure it would, but Sir Ulath prefers his own method. It has a few drawbacks, though. Once Kalten cooked every single meal for an entire week.’

Vanion shuddered.

They had smoked mutton-chops that evening, and Ulath received some hard looks from his companions about that. Flute and Sephrenia, however, complimented him on his choice. After they had eaten, they sought their makeshift beds.

It must have been well past midnight when Talen shook Sparhawk awake, laying a cautious hand across his mouth to prevent his crying out. ‘There are some people back near the road,’ the boy whispered. They’ve built a big fire.’

‘What are they doing?’ Sparhawk asked.

‘Just standing around waiting for somebody, it seems – unless you want to count the drinking.’

‘You’d better rouse the others,’ Sparhawk told him, throwing off his blankets and reaching for his sword.

They crept through the forest in the darkness and stopped at the edge of a stump-dotted clearing. There was a large bonfire in the center of the clearing and nearly a hundred men – peasants, for the most part, judging from their clothing – sitting on the ground near the blaze. Their faces were ruddy from the reflected light and from the contents of the earthenware jars they were passing around.

‘Strange place to be holding a drinking-party,’ Ulath murmured. I wouldn’t come out this far into the woods for something as ordinary as that.’

‘Is this it?’ Vanion asked Flute, who was nestled in Sephrenia’s arms, concealed by her sister’s dark cloak.

‘Is this what?’

‘You know what I mean. Is this what we’re supposed to see?’

‘I think so,’ she replied. ‘I’ll know better when they all get here.’

‘Are there more coming?’

She nodded. ‘One, at least. The ones who are already here don’t matter.’

They waited as the peasants in the clearing grew progressively more and more rowdy.

Then a lone horseman appeared at the far edge of the clearing, near the road. The newcomer wore a dark cloak and a slouch hat pulled low over his face.

‘Not again,’ Talen groaned. ‘Doesn’t anybody on this continent have any imagination?’

‘What’s this?’ Vanion asked.

‘The one they call Sabre up in Astel wore the same kind of clothes, my Lord.’

‘Maybe this one’s different.’

‘I wouldn’t get my hopes up too high.’

The man on horseback rode into the firelight, dismounted, and pushed back his hat. He was a tall, gangly man with a long, pock-marked face and narrow eyes. He stepped up onto a tree-stump and stood waiting for the peasants to gather around him. ‘Hear me, my friends,’ he said in a loud, harsh voice. ‘I bring news.’

The half-drunk babble of the peasants faded.

‘Much has happened since last we met,’ the speaker continued. ‘You will recall that we had determined to make one last try to resolve our differences with the Tamuls by peaceful means.’

‘What choice did we have, Rebal?’ one of the peasants shouted. ‘Only madmen would attack the Atan garrison – no matter how just their cause.’

‘So that’s Rebal,’ Kalten whispered. ‘Not very impressive, is he?’

‘Our cause was made just by Incetes himself,’ Rebal was responding, ‘and Incetes is more than a match for the Atans.’

The mob murmured its agreement.

‘There is good news, my friends,’ Rebal declared. ‘Our emissaries have been successful. The Emperor himself has seen the justice of our cause!’

A ragged cheer went up.

‘I rejoice even as you,’ Rebal continued, ‘but a new peril, far more grave than the simple injustice of the corrupt Tamul administrators, has arisen. The Emperor, who is now our friend, has been taken prisoner by the accursed Church Knights! The evil Archprelate of the Church of Chyrellos has reached half-way around the world to seize our friend!’

‘Outrageous!’ a burly peasant in the crowd roared. ‘Monstrous!’

The rest of the peasants looked a bit confused, however.

‘He’s going too fast,’ Talen whispered critically.

‘What?’ Berit asked.

‘He’s changing course on them,’ Talen explained. ‘I’d guess that he’s been cursing the Tamuls for the last year or so – the same way Sabre was up in Astel. Now he wants to curse somebody else, but he’s got to uncurse the Tamuls first. Even a drunken peasant’s going to have some suspicions about the miraculous conversion of the Emperor. He made it all too fast – and too easy.’

‘Tell us, Rebal,’ the burly peasant shouted, ‘how was our friend, the Emperor, taken prisoner?’

‘Yes, tell us!’ another man on the far side of the crowd howled.

‘Planted henchmen,’ Talen sneered. ‘This Rebal’s about as subtle as a club in the face.’

‘It was clever, my friends,’ Rebal declared to the crowd, ‘very clever. The Church of Chyrellos is guided by the demons of Hell, and they are the masters of deceit. The Tamuls, who are now our friends, are heathens, and they do not understand the guile of the heretics of Chyrellos. All unsuspecting, they welcomed a delegation of Church officials, and among those foul heretics who journeyed to Matherion were Knights of the Church – the armored minions of Hell itself. Once in Matherion, they seized our dear friend and protector, Emperor Sarabian, and they now hold him prisoner in his own palace!’

‘Death to the Tamuls!’ a wheezy-voiced old man, far gone in drink, bawled.

One of the other peasants rapped him sharply across the back of the head with a cudgel, and the slightly out-of-date demonstrator sagged limply to the ground.

‘Crowd control,’ Talen sniffed. ‘Rebal doesn’t want people making any mistakes here.’

Other peasants, obviously more of Rebal’s planted henchmen, began to shout the correct slogan, ‘Death to the Church Knights!’ They brandished crude weapons and assorted agricultural implements as they bellowed, emphasizing their slogan and intimidating the still-confused.

‘The purpose of these monsters is all too clear,’ Rebal shouted over the tumult. ‘It is their plan to hold the Emperor as hostage to prevent the Atans from storming the palace. They will sit safe where they are until reinforcements arrive. And make no mistake, my friends, those reinforcements are even now gathering on the plains of Eosia. The armies of the heretics are on the march, and in the van there come the Church Knights!’

Horrified gasps ran through the ranks of the peasants.

‘On to Matherion!’ the fellow with the cudgel bellowed. ‘Free the Emperor!’

The crowd took up the shout.

Rebal held up one hand, ‘My blood burns as hotly as yours, my friends!’ he shouted. ‘But will we leave our homes and families to the mercies of the Knights of the Church? All of Eosia marches toward Matherion! And what stands between accursed Eosia and fire-domed Matherion? Edom, my friends! Our beloved homeland stands in the path of the heretic horde! What mercy can we expect from these savages? Who will defend our women from foul rape if we rush to the Emperor’s aid?’

Cries of chagrin ran through the crowd.

Rebal moved quickly at that point. ‘And yet, my friends,’ he rushed on, ‘our defense of our beloved homes may yet aid our friend, the Emperor. The beasts of Eosia come to destroy our faith and to slaughter the true believers. I know not what course you may take, but I pledge to you all that I will lay down my life for our beloved homeland and our holy faith! But in my dying, I will delay the Church Knights! That Spawn of Hell must pause to spill my blood, and their delay will give the Atans the time to rally! Thus may we defend our homes and aid our friend in one stroke!’

Sparhawk began to swear, half strangling to keep his voice down.

‘What’s your problem?’ Kalten asked.

‘We’ve just been blocked. If those idiots out there accept what Rebal’s telling them, the Church Knights are going to have to fight their way to Matherion foot by foot.’

They’re very quick to exploit a changing situation,’ Vanion agreed. ‘Too quick, perhaps. It’s almost a thousand leagues from here to Matherion. Either someone has a very good horse, or our mysterious friend out there’s breaking the rules again in order to get word out to the hinterlands of what happened after the coup was put down.’

Rebal was holding up his hands to quiet the shouting of the crowd. ‘Are you with me, my brothers?’ he called. ‘Will we defend our homes and our faith and help our friends, the Tamuls, at the same time?’

The mob howled its assent.

‘Let’s ask Incetes to help us!’ the man with the cudgel shouted.

‘Incetes!’ another bellowed. ‘Incetes! Call forth Incetes!’

‘Are you sure, my friends?’ Rebal asked, drawing himself up and pulling his dark cloak tightly around him.

‘Call him forth, Rebal! Raise Incetes! Let him tell us what to do!’

Rebal struck an exaggerated pose and raised both arms over his head. He began to speak, intoning guttural words in a hollow, booming voice.

‘Is that Styric?’ Kalten whispered to Sephrenia. ‘It doesn’t sound like Styric to me.’

‘It’s gibberish,’ she replied scornfully.

Kalten frowned. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever heard of them,’ he whispered. ‘What part of the world do the Gibbers come from?’

She stared at him, her face baffled.

‘Did I say it wrong?’ he asked. ‘Are they called the Gibberese, or maybe the Gibberenians? – the people who speak Gibberish, I mean.’

‘Oh, Kalten,’ she laughed softly. ‘I love you.’

‘What did I say?’

Rebal’s voice had risen to a near-shriek, and he brought both arms down sharply.

There was a sudden explosion in the middle of the bonfire, and a great cloud of smoke boiled out into the clearing.

‘Herken, Maisteres alle!’ a huge voice came out of the smoke. ‘Now hath the tyme for Werre ycom. Now, be me troth, shal alle trew Edomishmen on lyve to armes! Tak ye uppe the iren swerd; gird ye your limbes alle inne the iren haubergeon and the iren helm! Smyte ye the feendes foule, which beestes derk do sette hom and fey in deedly peril. Goe ye to bataile ferse to fend the feendes of the acurset Chirche of Chyrellos! Follwe! Follwe! Follwe me, as Godes hondys yeve ye force!’

‘Old High Elenic!’ Bevier exclaimed. ‘Nobody’s spoken that tongue in thousands of years!’

‘I’d follow him, whatever tongue it is,’ Ulath rumbled. ‘He makes a good speech.’

The smoke began to thin, and a huge, ox-shouldered man wearing ancient armor and holding a mighty two-handed sword above his head appeared at Rebal’s side. ‘Havok!’ he bellowed. ‘Havok and Werre!’