Treespeaker (20 page)

The men spoke little as they made camp, but as the evening wore on and the ale they drank began to relax their tongues, conversation became animated.

“Another day, you reckon, Captain Pevliz? Then we get some action?” said one man, raising his cup to his lips.

“Yes, we’ll make camp at the waterfall tomorrow night, then move in the next morning. It should only take a few hours from there.”

“Will ’e be ready for us?”

“That’s what he said. We should have no trouble from the men. And the women and children’ll be easy to round up.” The captain smiled.

Jakan took a deep breath to stop himself being sick. They were going into the forest. That could only mean one thing. They were working for Beldror. Why? What could he be planning?

Another man spoke now. “You’re sure we’ll be able to get in?”

“That’s what the man said.” The captain scratched his backside before taking another mouthful of his ale and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

“You trust ’im?”

The captain leered. “Not as far as I could throw him. That’s why I insisted on half the money up front. But he wants them Arrakeshi cleared out, so he’ll have it open all right. Then you’ll have your fun.”

Jakan sank back against the rock, anger knotting in his stomach. These men were talking about his people as if they were vermin to be eradicated. He needed to get back to warn them. His heart sank. He needed to get to Garuga to find Varyd as Arrakesh wanted him to. How could he do both? There was no way he could beat these men to the forest, even if he tried. They were on horseback. His only hope was that Putak had managed to mend the hole in the Veil, but he could not do it alone and to call in another Treespeaker would take days. So it was more likely that these men would find the hole, just as Beldror had told them. Unless –

Jakan sat up and looked down once again at the camp below him. The men were still drinking. He crept from his hiding place and clambered without a sound down the hill away from the stream. It was darker down there, the glow of the setting sun being hidden from view by the hillside. Turning south, he felt his way on silent feet about two hundred yards, before turning back to the stream.

In the dim light he could just see the flat rocks in the stream that he had noticed on the way. Using them as stepping-stones, he was able to leap across the water and turn again to go back downstream on the other side. He no longer took care to be quiet, but strode towards the camp. Ahead of him he could hear the soldiers laughing at a ribald joke.

His first warning that he had been seen was the soft scrunch of a boot behind him. There was no time to react before a strong arm slipped around his chest and he felt the cold, sharp steel of a knife at his throat.

“You’d better ’ave a really good excuse for wanderin’ about ’ere at night.” The voice behind him seemed to come from above him. Jakan tried to turn his head, but the knife pressed harder.

Jakan swallowed, trying to keep the tremor from his voice. “I have a message for Captain Pevliz.”

“What message? Who from?”

“It’s for Captain Pevliz.”

The knife was lowered from his throat, but before Jakan could relax, the man grabbed his hand and forced it up his back. His shoulder burned.

“Walk. Don’t try to get away or I’ll slice you down the middle.”

Jakan stumbled forward. As they reached camp the other men caught sight of them and stood with angry jeers. Captain Pevliz slowly placed his mug on the ground before walking towards them. His sharp, blue eyes seemed to burn through Jakan.

“Who’s this, Thrak?”

“Says ’e ’as a message for you.”

The captain cocked his head to one side and raised an inquiring eyebrow. “Speak, little man.”

“I have a message from Beldror.”

The captain’s head came up and his eyes widened. “Beldror? Go on.”

“He said to tell you that the breach in the Veil is no longer there.” He watched, satisfied, as the Captain twisted away to spit on the ground, annoyance burning in his eyes.

“Why not?”

“The Treespeakers found it and fixed it.” Jakan kept his voice monotonous, as if repeating a message with no control of his own. “He said to tell you that he’ll open another entry, but you’ll have to travel further to the east, to the Rocks of Grifth.”

Captain Pevliz put his hands on his hips and looked up at the darkening sky. He ran one hand through his hair and glared back at Jakan. “The Rocks of Grifth are days away. What’s the man thinking?”

Jakan did not answer. A man under Beldror’s power would not try to explain. He only hoped that Pevliz would fall for it. By the time they reached the Rocks of Grifth and realised they were tricked, they would have wasted days. It would also take them away from the Hudd family. Suddenly Pevliz stepped forward and grabbed a handful of Jakan’s shirtfront.

“Who are you? These aren’t the clothes of an Arrakeshi.”

Jakan kept his face as straight as he could. This man must not sense his fear. “My name is Rivakgol of the Fifth Tribe of Arrakesh. I fell as I came down from the forest. A Carlikan woman who helped me gave me these clothes.”

The man behind him laughed. “’E’s certainly got the build of an Arrakeshi, Captain. Look at ’im. ’Ardly bigger than a flea.” He pushed Jakan forward, his knee in his back.

The captain took Jakan’s face in one huge hand and turned it towards him. He stared into his eyes as he spoke. “Tell me, Rivakgol of the Fifth Tribe of the Arrakesh, what are your women like?” He leered at the other men.

Jakan swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. “Women?”

“Yes, women. Are they beautiful?”

Jakan closed his eyes, wincing with pain as the man behind him wrenched his arm further up his back. He thought of Jalena.
Forgive me.
“Yes,” he whispered. “Very beautiful.”

Pevliz let go of his face, grinning. “Good. They’ll be worth the wait. Now, come and eat with us. We’ll take you to the escarpment tomorrow.”

Jakan’s heart thudded in his chest. His mind whirled as he tried to think quickly. “I…I must return. Beldror said I must be back within four days. I must give you the message and come straight back. I need to go now.”

Pevliz laughed, his head back. “Yes, that sounds like Beldror, setting unreasonable timetables. Very well, you can go. Tell Beldror, Captain Pevliz hopes his plans are going well. Tell him I’ll expect compensation for the added inconvenience.” He nodded at the man holding Jakan and he was released. Jakan rubbed his shoulder. Pevliz waved him away and he backed off some way before turning to run, the sound of the men’s laughter echoing in his ears.

He ran upstream to where the stepping-stones crossed the water. On the other side he ran upstream some more until he was certain that he was out of view of Pevliz’s men. Crouching low, he clambered to the eastern side of the bank. He turned back downstream and stumbled through the darkness. He didn’t stop moving until he had put a good two miles between him and the soldiers.

When his legs would go no further, he flopped beside a rock and fell into a fitful sleep. He dreamed of his village. The houses burned, the women and children screamed and the men groaned as they fell to the swords of Carlikan mercenaries. Through it all, Beldror smiled. Around his neck he wore a necklace of healing stones set in gold and over his shoulders, a cape edged with the feathers of a hawk.

Dovan hefted the heavy bucket to waist height and poured its contents into Megda’s water barrel. Putak and Kelsha had left in the early hours of yesterday morning. He wished he had learned the Treespeaker’s skill of feeling a person’s presence in the forest, for then he would have known they were safe. No matter how hard he tried though, he could not tap into the stream of life that his father had used so often. He could only hope they’d made it back to Putak’s village.

It was getting late and the curfew would soon resume. He turned to look along the path that wound down the hill to the storehouse. Megda should be back with food in a few minutes, but there was no sign of her yet. Maybe he should go and look for her. Her aching joints still caused her pain. She might be struggling to carry what she had picked up.

Dovan put the bucket by the barrel and walked onto the path. As he did, he noticed two figures coming from the other direction. One, strutting with his shoulders back, he recognised as Grifad. At first glance, he mistook the other for Megda and wondered why she should be coming that way, but then he caught sight of Megda coming from the storehouse, carrying a string bag. She walked very slowly, as if each step were a trial.

Dovan gazed again at the figure with Grifad. She was about the same height and age as Megda, but at closer range he could see that her arms were thin and her skin much darker. She looked weary, too, and carried a large bag with her, as if she were on a journey. As she came closer to Dovan, she smiled a friendly smile. Dark brown eyes burned bright from deepset hollows.

“This is Dovan.” Grifad talked as he walked along. “He is sharing Megda’s cottage since…well, yes…anyway, you’ll get to know him soon enough.”

“Hello, Dovan.” The woman’s voice was thin. It crackled like dry leaves.

Dovan’s return smile was tentative. Who was she?

Grifad took the old woman’s arm and guided her towards Dovan, his mouth set in a thin line. He saw Megda and stopped to wait for her before speaking. Then he waved his hand in the direction of the woman. “You have a visitor, Megda. I’ve told her that the village is not having visitors at the moment, but it appears she has travelled a long way to see you and is weary from the journey, so we…er, I…have decided that she may stay a few days. No more, though.” His face grew ruddier as he spoke. At last, he took a breath.

Megda’s eye’s opened wide, but before she could speak the other woman rushed forward and hugged her tightly, her leather shoes scuffling dust from the path.

 “Ah, Megda, my dear, at last. When I heard of poor Kattan’s passing, I knew I just had to come to see you, but I was ill myself and had to wait. I hope you’ll forgive me. I could just imagine you thinking ‘Why has Hekja not come to see me?’ Well, here I am at last. You don’t look any different than the last time I saw you, so many years ago.” She stood back, holding Megda’s arms, a sad smile on her face. “Are you not pleased to see me?”

Megda’s eyes were still wide and she laughed a little. “Yes. Yes, of course, it’s lovely to see you… Hekja. I’m sorry. This is just such a surprise.”

Dovan guessed from the slight furrow on Megda’s brow, that the surprise came not from the unexpected visit, but from the use of her name by a total stranger.

Grifad, however, was already sidling down the path and seemed oblivious to Megda’s bafflement. “Well, now that you’re here, I’ll take my leave. The curfew begins shortly. Please move inside.” He turned and walked away, but stopped again only ten yards from them. “Oh, I forgot to ask. Have any of you seen Beldror’s bird in the last few days?”

Dovan and Megda shook their heads. Grifad shrugged and walked on.

Megda smiled again at the old woman. “Please, come in.” As the woman walked in front of her, Megda turned to Dovan and mouthed at him, “Who is she?”

As if she had heard, Hekja spoke over her shoulder. “Let’s get inside and I’ll explain everything.”

***

Hekja’s explanation came over a cup of honeyed wine, some fresh bread, baked by Megda that afternoon, and a bowl of rabbit stew. The smell of their meal wafted around the small cottage, mixing with the scent of the pine needles in the cushions they sat on and the smoke from the fire. It was a homely smell that helped to ease the fact that they were effectively imprisoned here until the next day.

As he listened, Dovan found himself drawn to the visitor. She held both their hands as she spoke of Jakan’s fall down the hill, his struggles with Jahl and of his grief, and he was surprised to feel her passing calming thoughts to him. Any emotion he felt was cushioned by the tranquility that flowed through her hands. Megda’s blue eyes grew soft and he knew that she was sensing it too.

Who are you?
The old woman turned to him as if she’d heard his thought. He frowned.
Did I thoughtspeak? Are you a Treespeaker?

“No, I am not a Treespeaker.”

Dovan sat back and stared at her. “But you just heard my thoughts. How…?”

Her smile was slow and sad. She gazed at her hands, clasped on the table in front of her. “I’m a shadhi.”

Megda gasped and the old woman nodded at her, as if answering an unasked question. Dovan, however, shook his head, his eyebrows raised.

“Shadhi?”

The old woman explained her skills to him as she had to Jakan only a week before.

Dovan frowned as she finished. “You can’t thoughtspeak?”

“No, nor hear Arrakesh.”

“Why are you here?”

“I thought I could help you.” She played with a crumb of bread on her platter. “The biggest problem you seem to have is not knowing exactly what it is you’re trying to stop. Is that not so?” He nodded. “Well, now you can know, because I can tell you what Beldror is thinking. His plans are all in his head.”

Dovan grinned.

Megda wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and grabbed at Hekja’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Thank you. And thank you for easing our minds about Jakan. He was lucky to have found you. You speak as if you’ve known him for as long as I have,” she said at last. “But you only knew him for three or four days.”

“No.” She took Megda’s hands in hers. “I know all his thoughts and memories. I have known him his whole life. Just as I have you and Dovan.”

The tears in Megda’s eyes brimmed over. “That was Kattan’s line to me. ‘I know I love you, because I’ve known you all your life.’” She gazed at Hekja now and smiled through her tears. “I’ve met you before, haven’t I, years ago? You were the girl at the Lake Gathering, the one who found Kattan by his thoughts? That was the year I met him for the first time. I worried that he would want to marry you, because you had so much in common.”

Hekja laughed, a dry cackle. “Two shadhi together? They’d drive each other mad. No, I married Miganfin of the Seventh Tribe.”

Dovan sat in silence, trying to take in what the two women were saying. Kattan had been able to read minds? And Megda knew? Why had she never said?

Megda moved to stack the empty bowls in front of her. “But you live in Carlika?”

 “My father didn’t like Migan.” Hekja smiled sadly. “He persuaded the Treespeaker, who we asked for Arrakesh’s blessing, to say it wasn’t given. Of course, I knew he was lying. So we ran away.”

Dovan sat up. “But Treespeakers don’t lie.”

The old woman laid a hand on his arm and put her head to one side. “Becoming a Treespeaker doesn’t make you incorruptible, Dovan. Every man can be made to do what seems to be against his nature, if you know his weaknesses.”

***

Early the next morning, Dovan got the call to be part of a hunting party. They were to set rabbit snares in Jiffin’s Glen, only a few miles away, and gather wood on the way back. As he returned to the cottage in the mid-afternoon, he met Beldror and Grifad coming towards him.

“Greetings, Dovan.” Grifad puffed slightly from the effort of trying to match Beldror’s stride. “We would like a word with you, Megda and her visitor, if we may?”

Dovan nodded, carefully shielding his true feelings from his eyes. There was nothing he wanted less than to have these two in the cottage again. On the other hand, it would be a good opportunity for Hekja to get inside Beldror’s mind. He relaxed a little as he thought of the irony of that situation.

Megda and Hekja sat at the table, shelling acorns ready for soaking. Megda stood as the two men walked in and Dovan winced for her as he saw how much effort it took. His inability to give her comfort, as a Treespeaker should, frustrated him. Putak had promised him that the skill would come, but without it he felt inadequate in his new role.

Hekja didn’t stand, but continued to shell acorns as she gazed at the visitors. Beldror glared at her. Dovan could imagine him probing her mind and hoped that she was strong enough to resist. She stared back, seemingly unperturbed. Dovan marvelled as Beldror’s gaze dropped first and he turned his attention to Megda.

“I’m sure Grifad has told you the terms of this visit, Megda?”

Dovan tensed at the authoritarian tone of the man who was himself supposed to be a visitor.

Megda looked innocent. “Hekja may stay only a few days. Yes, he has told us, thank you, Beldror.” She turned to Grifad. “My cousin was telling me how quick you were to meet her yesterday, Grifad. She found it amazing that a visitor should be greeted so promptly by no lesser person than the Chief Elder.”

Dovan covered his mouth to hide the smile that came to his lips. Grifad, however, seemed oblivious to the double meaning of her words. He gave a slight bow and, hand on his chest, took a deep breath. “Why that’s perfectly all right. It is, after all, my task to welcome visitors.”

There was silence for a moment. Dovan was startled to see Hekja’s eyes widen in alarm. Following her gaze, he jumped as a black rat crawled from the pocket of Beldror’s trousers. His glance rose to Beldror’s face. Catching his look, the man’s lips turned up in amusement. He reached down and lifted the rat close to his face, stroking its head behind the ears. Dovan shuddered.

“I see you’ve noticed my new pet.” Beldror settled the rat on his arm. It ran up and sat on his shoulder, its nose twitching, its claws digging into the woollen material of his shirt for support.

“How long have you had it?” Dovan found it hard to keep the disgust from his voice. It was a vile-looking creature, scrawny with patches of fur missing.

Beldror took some bread from his pocket and fed it to the rat. “I found him yesterday. His name is Frix.”

Hekja banged a nut hard on the table. “He seems very tame for a creature that was wild only yesterday.”

Beldror glowered at her. “I have a way with animals.”

She stared back at him, but said no more, tossing the shelled acorn into the bowl in front of her with rather more force than necessary.

Beldror lifted Frix from his shoulder and placed him on the floor of the cottage.  Megda didn’t hide her disgust, but she must have known better than to comment. She watched, her hand over her mouth, as the rat scuttled about the paved floor, sniffing at the stone flags, the cushions and the wall edges. It even sniffed at Hekja’s skirt as it passed. She shooed it with her hand, wrinkling her nose.

After a few minutes, it ran back. Beldror lifted it to his shoulder once again, stroking its back as it nibbled on the bottom of his dark hair. He leered at them as he strode to the door. “Enjoy your time together.”

With a swift backward glance at Grifad, he left. Grifad bade them a quick farewell and followed.

Dovan shut the door. Megda gazed with disgust at the floor where the filthy animal had been allowed to run. Hekja had stopped shelling acorns. The colour had drained from her face.

Dovan squatted by her side, his hand on the table. “Hekja, what is it?”

She looked confused for a moment, as if trying to work out where the voice came from. Then she grabbed his arm tightly. “That animal. He’s training it to kill, just as he did the hawk. He’s going to send it after Jakan.”