Treespeaker (2 page)

He flopped back on his cushion, obviously exhausted by his show of emotion.

“I’m sorry,” Jakan said. Then he smiled. “You’ve already given much of that speech, haven’t you?”

Kattan winked. “You do your job, I do mine.”

 “I only hope you’re right.”

The old man’s eye’s narrowed. “Do you question your Chief Elder?”

“No, I question my own sanity.”

“There is no saner man in the village. Now rest. If we're in danger, we will need a strong Treespeaker.”

Jakan paused to take a deep breath before he knocked at the door of Kattan’s cottage, where the Elders gathered. Three days had passed since the SpringSpeak and he still felt shaky. His mind churned over the things they might want to know. He had no answers.

Inside, voices rose in heated discussion. They stopped as he knocked. After a few moments, Megda, the small, motherly wife of Kattan, opened the door. Her face broke into a delighted smile when she saw him and she stretched up to kiss him on the cheek.

“Hello, Megda.” He laid a hand on her shoulder. “How are you keeping?”

“Oh, I’m well enough.” She stepped out to him and closed the door behind her. She smoothed down her brown dress, her face strained.

“And Kattan?”

She shook her head and said nothing. She didn’t need to. Jakan slipped his arm about her and gave her a silent hug. She rested her head on his chest for a moment before pulling away.

“I’d better let you in.”

As she opened the door, the now hushed conversation inside came to an abrupt halt and the eight members of the Council looked towards them. Megda let him enter and then stepped out, leaving Jakan alone in the doorway.

The eight Elders sat on cushions in a circle around a low table. Jakan could feel the warmth of the fire and smell the faint hint of smoke. He swallowed. Never since he first became Treespeaker as a teenager had he felt nervous before these people. He was Treespeaker, their direct link to Arrakesh. His position afforded him respect. Even though he had little actual authority, that fact gave him assurance. Today, however, he felt uneasy. What could he say? They wanted to know the Will of Arrakesh, yet he felt like a child about to be tested on something he didn’t understand.

Kattan broke the silence. “Come in, my friend. Sit by me.” Gasps for breath punctuated his words.

Jakan strolled across to the empty cushion by Kattan’s side. He sensed seven other sets of eyes watching him and worked to keep his emotions from his face. To his left sat Kelsha, a woman about his own age. She gave a friendly smile of greeting as she pushed a wayward strand of grey hair behind her ear.

“Can we get on now?” Grifad barked as Jakan made himself comfortable. His face bore its customary look of impatience.

Jakan looked to Kattan and nodded his readiness.

“Very well.” Kattan wheezed as he took a breath. “We’ll get straight to the point. We know that you suffered a great deal from your experience at the last Speak. I’ve explained what happened, as you told it to me.” He paused to take another breath and leaned back against the wall, “…But some of us…are insisting that you need to undertake another SpringSpeak as soon as possible.” As he spoke he glared at Grifad, who sat on the far side of the circle. “How do you feel about that, Jakan?”

Despite the warm room, Jakan felt cold. Though he could see why they might want the SpringSpeak to be held once more, he dreaded what might happen if he went back to it so soon. What if Arrakesh had not finished giving him the images before he passed out last time? Could he endure more of that?

Grifad’s voice was icy. “What do you mean, how does he feel? He’s the Treespeaker and we’re the Elders. It’s his duty to do his job, and our duty to insist that he does!”

Jakan felt both Kattan and Kelsha tensing at these words. Though his throat was dry he intervened, so that Kattan could save his breath.

“I did my duty a few days ago, Grifadwyk. I am always willing to do my duty. Just as I always give due respect to those I speak to!”

Grifad bristled. No matter what he did, Jakan knew it would never be enough for Grifad. Though nothing had ever been said, Jakan felt sure his close friendship with Kattan must be the cause of the man’s antagonism. He could do nothing about that.

Kelsha held up her hands in a soothing gesture. “Please, let’s remain calm about this. Jakan, we do understand it will be a difficult thing for you. But without the SpringSpeak it will be impossible to plan for the coming season, and after the freezing winter we’ve just endured, it would boost the confidence of everyone to have some idea of what we’re facing.” 

There were murmurs of agreement from around the circle. Grifad’s face still glowed with fury, but the others bore conciliatory looks. Jakan turned to Kattan. The old man’s breaths came slow and laboured, but he managed to nod encouragement at him. Jakan let out a long breath and sat back on his cushion. Kelsha had made a good point, but if he received more horrific visions, what would that do to the confidence of the villagers? They needed to have faith in Arrakesh’s will, not be terrified of it.

He kept his eyes on Grifad as he spoke. “If that’s what the Council wishes, then so be it,” he said without emotion, “but I would ask one thing.” He addressed Kattan.

“What do you ask, young one?”

“The SpringSpeak will be held before the Elders only.”

Grifad huffed with disgust. “That’s preposterous. The Spring and Autumn Speaks are always held in the presence of the whole village.”

“They have been. But these circumstances have never arisen before.” Jakan could no longer keep his anger from his voice. “Do you want to start a mass panic if I should receive more visions like those three days ago?”

This time it was Kattan who held up a shaking hand for silence.

“The SpringSpeak will be re-held before the Elders only.” He frowned at Grifad as he made to argue. “I, Kattanbek, Chief Elder, have spoken. So shall it be!”

***

With the decision made to hold the SpringSpeak the next evening, the Elders left, Grifad still scowling. Megda hurried to put some water over the fire. They sat at the table in silence, listening to the soft bubbling of the pot as it came to the boil.

At last, Kattan turned a little on his cushion and put a hand on Jakan’s knee. “You’ll arrange the men to carry my chair to the Speak?”

Jakan contemplated his old friend’s pale face and heaving chest. “You can’t do it, old one. It will be the death of you. Stay here where you’re warm and comfortable.”

“If I die tomorrow, or the next day, what difference will it make? I want to be there. I will be there.”

 “But what will it achieve?”

“I want…to be there!” Kattan began to cough, a slight tickle at first, which developed into an uncontrollable hacking and gasping for breath. The old man’s face turned from white to red and his eyes watered. Megda rushed to bring him water, but he shook too much to take it from her and she stood holding it, her eyes entreating Jakan to do something.

Jakan laid a hand on the old man’s shoulder, shut his eyes and willed the coughing to stop. In a flash, his mind whirled away from the room, the moment and into another time. He felt his friend’s life, his illness, his pain, knew his fear of the end and his longing for it. Within seconds he was back, with clear and certain knowledge of the imminence of Kattan’s death. He shuddered, but kept his hand on Kattan until his Treespeaker’s calming power took effect.

At last his old friend had control of his breathing once more. “Thank you.” He sipped some water and handed the cup to Megda. He waited until his wife had moved away before he whispered, “Don’t worry. I know it will be soon. But I will be at the Speak.”

Before Jakan could answer, he was interrupted by the sound of a group of people laughing and talking outside. He stood and opened the front door to look out. Some of the Elders, who had just left, along with others from the village, walked back towards Kattan’s house. With them came a stranger, a tall young man, dressed in clothes of fine cloth, not the normal leather or rough fabric of the Arrakeshi. He had a confident air about him and those with him seemed to hang on his every word.

As he approached, Jakan could see that he was a handsome young man, with a thick mop of dark, wavy hair and finely chiseled features. His dark eyes were deep-set and his nose was long and straight. His mouth formed an easy smile. He grinned at Jakan when he saw him, but Jakan felt a strange aversion. Something about the man made the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

“Jakanash, Treespeaker of the Fifth Tribe of Arrakesh,” said Grifad. His mouth drew into a tight line and he narrowed his eyes, obviously annoyed at finding Jakan still with Kattan. “This is Beldror Kardil, from Garuga.”

Jakan nodded a greeting. He turned to Megda who was standing behind him. “Please tell Kattan I’ll deal with this, and I’ll see him tomorrow.”

Megda nodded and went inside, shutting the door behind her.

Beldror Kardil laughed. “Jakanash, the Treespeaker? Could that be the same Jakanash that knew my Uncle Varyd?”

Jakan’s heart missed a beat. That was a name he had not heard in many years. Varyd Kohl had come to Arrakesh from Garuga in Carlika over twenty years ago. A scholar, he had come there to learn the ways of the Arrakeshi, and in the two years he stayed, became a good friend to Jakan.

“Uncle?”

Beldror shrugged. “Well, not a real uncle, you understand, but a very close family friend. He’s told me all about you. He asked if I met up with you that I would pass on his best wishes.”

“Did he?” Despite the man’s apparent easy-going nature, and his relationship with an old friend, Jakan still couldn’t warm to him. The visions of the SpringSpeak kept flashing into his mind. “What brings you this way?”

The young man waved his arm in a sweeping arc. “I’d heard so much from Varyd about your beautiful village that I wanted to see it for myself.”

“You’re welcome to stay in my home.” Grifad’s face flushed with enthusiasm. “There’s plenty of room.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Beldror answered, still smiling at Jakan.

Jakan’s face grew hot. The invitation of guests to the village was the role of the Chief Elder. Grifad knew that.

High above them, he heard the cry of a bird. He froze. He didn’t have to glance up to know what kind of bird it was. Its screeching cry had haunted him every time he shut his eyes for the past three days. He clutched at the doorpost to steady himself.

“I’m sorry.” Jakan fought to keep the tremor from his voice. “It’s not convenient that we should entertain visitors at the moment. Our Chief Elder is dying and it would be disrespectful to him to –”

Grifad stuck out his large chest. “I’m sure Kattan won’t mind. The people of the Fifth Tribe of Arrakesh are renowned for their hospitality, as you know. We can’t turn him away on such a pretext. If he’s passed through The Veil, then he’s to be welcomed. Let us see Kattan and see what he says!”

Jakan felt ill. This man couldn’t stay, but Grifad was using his authority as an Elder. He knew the law. He knew Jakan couldn’t override him on this matter at least.

Jakan spoke through clenched teeth to keep his voice from rising. “Kattan is resting right now. He can’t see anyone.”

“Then we must ask Hapirsol,” Grifad answered. “He has seniority over all except Kattan.”

Jakan let out a long breath. The gathering crowd turned to Hapir, the aged Deputy Chief Elder, who stared at them, his eyes blank. It was obvious he hadn’t been following what was going on, but Jakan knew that Grifad had sent his arrow straight. He couldn’t argue with him.

“So, Hapir,” Grifad raised his voice to the half-deaf old man, “what do you say? Do we turn this young traveller away or do we offer him hospitality?”

Hapir frowned, as if just being woken from a long sleep. “Don’t Arrakeshi always offer hospitality to strangers who’ve passed through the Veil?”

Grifad beamed. “Come along then, Beldror. My home is your home for as long as you want it.” With a smug expression, he turned in the direction of his house.

Beldror Kardil smiled once more at Jakan as he was dragged away by the eager Elder. “Goodbye for now, Jakanash, Treespeaker. We must get together sometime and talk about Varyd!”