The Last Banquet (Bell Mountain) (34 page)

“When did you learn how to do that?” he cried.

The old warrior grinned. “I’ve had many children of my own,” he said. “And this little one has always liked me.”

“Why does she cry?” Gurun asked.

“She does, sometimes, when God speaks through her,” Abgayle said. “Usually she doesn’t remember. But once or twice she’s said something about being in a nice place with her mommy. We all think raiders must have killed her family; but she doesn’t remember what happened to them. I suppose she cries because she doesn’t want to leave her mother—wherever they are together.”

“How did you know we left the city?” Ryons asked. “Nobody sent a message.”

“Jandra knew.”

“And now we ought to send her back to the city,” Hennen said. “This is an army on the march. It’s no place for a child.”

Obst shook his head, hard. “Didn’t you hear what she said, Hennen? No enemy shall hurt us. That was the Lord our God, speaking through a prophet. She couldn’t be safer anywhere than she’ll be with us.” But Hennen had never seen Jandra before, and looked doubtful.

“Be assured she is a prophet,” Chief Shaffur said. “We know.”

“Where’s Helki?” Abgayle asked. “Jandra was looking forward to seeing him again. She’s missed him.”

“He’s off somewhere, trying to find Jack and Ellayne. Nobody knows where they are,” Ryons said. “But now that Jandra’s here, maybe she can tell us. Helki took my dog, and they haven’t come back.”

Obst patted his shoulder. “Prophets speak what God gives them to speak, Sire,” he said. “We must all continue to pray for Helki—and pray he finds those children!” Then Ryons knew he’d spoken as a child speaks: but of course he couldn’t help that. He was a king, but not a man. Not for a long time yet.

In the teeth of a stiff snowstorm, the Ninneburky militia crossed the Imperial to join with Helki. It wasn’t all the town’s militia—just the hundred best and strongest spearmen, with the town’s chief councilor, Roshay Bault, to lead them.

They came just in time. The next day Helki fought a battle, and the Ninneburky spearmen stood fast in the middle of it, holding the line while Helki’s wild Abnaks and Wallekki riders swarmed around the flanks to crush the enemy. It was over by the middle of the afternoon.

“That was their last throw,” Helki told his captains, after the prisoners were rounded up and it was finally time to rest. “A fair number of them got away, but I reckon they’re scattered in a hundred different directions. From what the prisoners tell me, there’s no one left in this country to fight against us.

“But it was a close shave today!” He turned to Roshay. “It would’ve gone hard for us if you hadn’t shown up, Councilor. But they do breed tough birds in Ninneburky! Even the chicks are tough.”

“What do you know of Ninneburky?” Roshay wondered. He couldn’t take his eyes off Helki’s clothes, which were all different patches sewn together, no two of the same color.

“I know a boy and a girl who come from Ninneburky. They’ve done some things that’ll someday make them famous.”

“A boy and a girl!” Roshay’s knees almost buckled. He felt suddenly short of breath. “Their names—what are their names?”

“Why, Jack and—” Then Helki remembered. “You must be Ellayne’s father, then. She said her father was the chief councilor, or something like that.”

“Where is she? Is she well? Tell me, man!”

Helki had to find something for Roshay to sit on, before he fell over. A discarded saddle did the trick. This man, who’d been so strong and brave in battle, was about to faint for tidings of his daughter. A couple of his men gently lowered him onto the saddle, and Helki squatted before him.

“I wish I could tell you where Ellayne is. I’ve been looking for her,” he said. “But she’s still with Jack, and there’s a man who travels with them to protect them. I think they’re in King Oziah’s Wood, but I couldn’t get in. Now I guess we can.”

Roshay took deep breaths. The day the bell on Bell Mountain rang, he and his wife ceased to mourn their daughter. “God is watching over her,” they told each other. “She’s all right.” And they believed it with all their hearts. But now, to be told by this wild man that he knew her and had seen her and it was too much to take in, right after a battle.

“It’s been so long since she ran away. She and that boy—” Roshay couldn’t finish.

“Easy—I’ll tell you all I know, once we’re settled down,” Helki said. “But first I’ve got a battle to clean up after. It’s a long story, Ellayne and Jack’s doings. You’ll hardly believe it.”

Roshay nodded. He probably wouldn’t believe it. This was the first time in his life that unlooked-for good news hit him as hard as bad. At the moment it was hard to tell the difference. Maybe by the evening he might be able to understand whether or not he’d just received a blessing.

Helki stood up, patted Roshay on the shoulder, and strode off to see to his army.

Two more days went by, at the end of which Roshay knew that his daughter had stolen out of a ranger camp in the company of a blind Heathen medicine man. The camp belonged to a ranger captain named Huell; he’d left the children there and hurried to the south edge of the forest to harass the Heathen with his archers. Jack and Martis followed after Ellayne and the Griff, he said, and that was all any ranger knew about it.

“Exasperating!” Helki said. “But I reckon Cavall and I can track them down.”

“I’ll go with you,” Roshay said.

“I can go a lot faster alone,” said Helki.

The shelter in which the children slept was still there. Cavall crawled in and got their scent.

“So it seems they headed East,” Helki said. “Why would they do that?” he asked Huell.

“Who can say? It’s one way out of the forest. Then it’s a short distance to the foothills and some more woods. And along the Chariot the Heathen have built a road that goes all the way up the mountains—all the way to the top.”

“We’ll find them,” Helki said; and Cavall barked once.

“I can’t go home without her,” Roshay said.

Helki thought for a minute. “You can best help,” he said, “by taking command of this army for me and leading it up the Heathens’ road. It’ll be a hard slog in all this snow, but that’ll probably mean no fighting.”

“Am I to command a thousand Heathens?” Roshay cried. “They’ll murder me!”

“You can trust them. They’re sworn. They’ve fought against King Thunder, so they know they can never go back to him.”

“But what is the point of my marching your army up the mountain?”

“If those kids are wandering around up there,” Helki said, “they might find the army before I can find them.”

It was the best plan anyone could devise at the moment. Even this was wasting too much time, Helki thought. But he introduced Roshay to the chiefs among his following, and they all agreed to obey him.

“But why go up the mountain at all, Helki?” asked Tiliqua the Griff.

“Because it’ll show everyone who’s winning this war—and it’s not the Thunder King.” The chiefs liked that explanation! “But wait, just one more thing,” said Helki. “What about that mardar that we captured? I think we ought to take him with us.”

Santay, the Abnak, shrugged. “We can’t—for the excellent reason that he’s dead,” he said. “After we won that last battle, he managed to get a hand loose from his bonds when no one was looking. He found a sharp stone and cut his throat.”

“So no mardar magic out of him,” Helki said. “And no information, either. So be it. Councilor, you and the army get on that road and march up the mountain. Show the world that the Thunder King is finished.”

And at last, just as the sun was setting, Helki was able to plunge into the woods with Cavall sniffing out the children’s trail and Angel perched on his shoulder, flapping her wings to keep her balance. Roshay Bault watched him vanish into a thicket.

“How did he do that?” Ellayne’s father wondered. “He didn’t make a sound—a big man like that!”

“He should have been an Abnak,” Santay said.

Over the Golden Pass it continued to snow steadily. The Thunder King had said it would stop soon, but it was still snowing. “So much for his commanding the weather!” Lord Reesh thought. “He can’t stop the snow any more than one of those wooden idols in the banquet hall can.”

Reesh had nothing to do but sit in his cabin all day until summoned to the nightly banquet. Two of Kyo’s servants attended to his needs, but he couldn’t speak their language. He missed Gallgoid; he even missed being annoyed by the man.

Supplies kept coming up the mountain from the East. Reesh couldn’t imagine the labor needed to accomplish that. But they weren’t sending troops or wagons down the mountain anymore into the West.

Something was wrong: Reesh was sure of it. The mardars’ merriment around their banquet tables seemed forced. Kyo hardly spoke to him. The Thunder King still sat like a statue on his throne, silent behind his golden mask; but at the foot of the throne, the great cat fidgeted and lashed its stubby tail.

Fry Gallgoid’s soul—he must have known something, Reesh thought: something he hadn’t seen fit to tell his master, because this time his master couldn’t help him. That was why he’d tried to escape: it must be. Gallgoid knew—“And he left me here all alone to face it, whatever it is!” Reesh thought. Always keeping things to himself, never letting you know what he was thinking—that was Gallgoid. And without revealing what had convinced him to risk his life, the cusset fool got himself killed. Reesh wouldn’t be surprised if they’d fed Gallgoid to the cat.

If only the cuss’t snow would stop! If only he could get back into his carriage and get down from this infernal mountain!

Such musings made the delicacies of King Thunder’s table stick in Reesh’s throat and rumble in his belly when they finally got there. And there was no one to talk to, no one he could trust; and the hollow gaiety of the mardars at their feast bred in him a lingering dread.

He didn’t pray. “I won’t, at least, be such a hypocrite as that!” he thought.

Martis hurried through the woods, making for the road. He would have gone faster alone, but he had Jack to slow him down. At least Jack seemed tireless and not overly troubled by the cold. It amazed him to see such endurance in a child.

“I feel like I’ve been walking back and forth across Obann all my life,” Jack said. “I wonder if I’ll ever be allowed to stop.”

“I wonder how fast Chillith can go,” Martis said.

“Well, he can’t see, can he? We’ll catch up.”

It was useless trying to pick up the trail until they came to the road. Always assuming they’re heading for the road, Martis added to himself. But he couldn’t think of any other way for them to get up the mountain—a child and a blind man.

They put their heads down and kept going, as fast as Jack could keep it up.

Ellayne was beginning to worry that they’d freeze to death, but Wytt found shelter for them. It was a big tree that had recently blown over, creating a large cavity in the ground. It was almost as good as a cave. Snow hadn’t drifted into it, and it was dry inside. Ellayne was able to make a fire, although that took some doing. For supper they had some ranger-biscuit and a little bit of venison jerky.