Treespeaker (3 page)

Jakan watched him go with a sense of defeat. Cold dread had taken hold of his heart. He forced himself to look up. The large black hawk still circled overhead. As he watched, it wound lower and lower, until it landed on the roof of the cottage opposite. There it fixed a large, cold eye upon Jakan. He stared back at it. Without warning, it screeched and launched itself towards him. Instinctively, Jakan raised his arm above his head. He felt the rush of its wings as it passed above him and up, over the roof of Kattan’s house.

At that moment, Jakan knew with certainty that the evil of Arrakesh’s warnings had arrived. But how had it penetrated the Veil?

Dovan breathed a sigh of relief as he left the cottage. Since his father’s return from the meeting with the Elders the day before, a mood of irritation had lain over the house. Whether it was because of the call for another SpringSpeak, Kattan’s illness or the arrival of the stranger, he couldn’t tell, but his father’s querulous mood hadn’t improved since he returned from Kattan’s cottage. Dovan and his mother had spent the evening sidestepping any issue that might annoy him.

The morning air held the soft, musty tang of heavy dew on the forest floor. Between the trees, the sun cast beams that shimmered on wet leaves. Smoke from the cottages hung on the breeze. Dovan took a deep breath and let it out in a long slow sigh. He checked the fastening of his cloak as he relaxed into a gentle gait.

At last he allowed himself to think of the stranger without guilt. His father seemed aggravated by his arrival, yet to Dovan the man was the most interesting thing to happen in a long time. Dovan would take his sharesh, a year outside the Veil, after his eighteenth birthday in two moons and he hoped Beldror could answer all his questions about Carlika. He had pumped Salek for information when he returned last moon, but Salek had been coy, saying only that he had been glad to return. What sort of answer was that, when a man had just come back from the biggest adventure of his life?

Dovan whistled a quiet tune between his teeth as he trod the path to Maden’s cottage. They were due to check on rabbit traps. Dovan hoped his friend would have more news of the visitor. Maden seemed to have a knack for gleaning all the village gossip.

As soon as Maden opened his door, Dovan knew the morning would be interesting. His friend’s brown eyes held a glint of excitement. He cast Dovan a warning look and held a finger to his lips, until he had stepped out and shut the door behind him. If he meant to tell him something, it would not be until they were out of earshot of his mother. Dovan wasn’t surprised. Kelsha agreed with his father on most things, so she wouldn’t share the boys’ enthusiasm for the visitor either.

Dovan waited until they reached the main path. “What news?”

Maden grinned. “I met him last night – Beldror. He walked by our cottage as I brought in water and stopped to talk.”

Dovan stifled the envy that rose at Maden’s words. He himself had gone to bed early to get out of his father’s way.

“What’s he like?”

 “He’s different, but he knows so much. He’s just travelled right across Carlika to get here. We’ll have to get him to tell us all the best places to visit during our sharesh.”  Maden was already eighteen, but had chosen to delay his sharesh until Dovan and two other boys came of age in the next two moons.

“Maden! Dovan! Wait a moment.”

The boys stopped. Grifad waddled after them up the path, his face intent. He paused for a few seconds when he reached them to catch his breath. “What are your plans for this morning?”

“We were just on our way to check some traps in Firyn Glok,” Dovan said. “Then Father asked that we gather some wood to make a fire for the SpringSpeak tonight.”

Grifad tilted his head back. “Only one fire?”

“He said, as only the Elders would be there, only one fire would be necessary.”

Grifad gave a reluctant nod. His eyes narrowed and his mouth formed a thin line. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like you to take our visitor along when you get the wood. He wishes to get to know our way of life. I’d show him around myself, but I have Council matters to attend to.”

The boys grinned at each other and nodded. Maden tugged Dovan’s sleeve to get him moving as he answered. “We won’t be long at the traps, no more than an hour. We’ll be glad to do as you ask.”

“Very well. Beldror intended to take a stroll around the village after breakfast, so when you return you should be able to locate him easily round about.”

In less than an hour the boys returned with two rabbits each strung over their shoulders. They raced to hang them in the communal storehouse next to the Meeting Hall. On any other day they would have taken one to Megda and one each to their own parents, but today they had other things on their minds.

It didn’t take them long to find Beldror. A group of children had persuaded him to play a game and he leaned against a tree, tossing a leather ball with lazy ease for them to chase.

Beldror looked up as Dovan and Maden approached and gave a smile of obvious relief.

“Ah, Maden, I hear you’re to show me the skills required for the difficult task of wood-gathering.” He grinned at his own joke and pushed himself away from the tree.

The children complained at the sudden end to their game, but Beldror waved them away with a chuckle.

“Another day. Off you go.” He took the ball from a young boy and tossed it into the forest. The children chased after it with happy squeals.

“This is Dovanash.”

Dovan reddened at his friend’s formal introduction and grew even hotter when the visitor’s eyes widened with interest.

“Ash? So you’re related to Jakanash?”

“He’s my father. Just call me Dovan.”

Beldror regarded him for a moment, his brown eyes sharp with interest. “So, tell me, Dovan, are you following in your father’s footsteps?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you a Treespeaker?”

That was what Dovan had thought he meant. “No.”

Beldror cocked his head to one side and cast him a quizzical look. Then he laughed. “So you’re your own man. It’s good to be independent. A man has to live his own life.”

Dovan warmed with pleasure. He was going to like Beldror. He pointed towards Padhag Klen. “We need to take the wood up there. I’ll go and get a cart.” He hurried off towards the storehouse.

With a cart from behind the storehouse in tow, the three young men sauntered up the hill, past Kattan’s cottage and into the forest. A tree had fallen by the stream last year and hadn’t yet been gathered. Branches from it would make a good tall fire for the SpringSpeak.

As they approached the stream, a black hawk flew down and perched on Beldror’s shoulder. Maden moved towards it, but it flapped its wings and screeched. He took a quick step back.

“Meet Jahl,” Beldror rubbed the hawk’s chest with his finger tip.

“Is he a pet?” Maden stayed back now, eyeing the bird from a distance.

Beldror’s lips curled into an enigmatic smile. “He’s a hunter.”

“What does he hunt?”

“Whatever I tell him to.”

 Dovan pulled a hatchet from his belt. “We never thought to bring you an axe.”

 “Oh, I’m happy to watch how it’s done.” Beldror strolled to a tall boulder and leaned against it, folding his arms. The hawk still clung to his shoulder. He raised his eyebrows, waiting for them to start.

Dovan and Maden laughed and began to gather wood. For their visitor’s amusement, they made melodrama of their chopping and exaggerated the difficulty of lifting the light branches. The time passed swiftly and soon the cart was piled high.

Dovan inspected the load, securing it with rope before turning to Beldror. “There are no trees in Carlika, are there?”

Beldror shrugged. “A few.”

“But what do you use for firewood?”

“Coal.” Beldror stood up from the boulder and moved away as he spoke.

Dovan stared after him. The man obviously didn’t want to answer any more questions about fuel, but what was coal?

“Are the girls pretty in Carlika?” Maden called. He dug Dovan in the ribs and gave a cheeky grin as he asked the question. Dovan shook his head and smiled. He should have known that would be Maden’s first question.

Beldror smirked. “Some of them. It depends what you like.”

“He likes anything with breasts!” Dovan dodged a mock punch from Maden and went to hold one handle of the cart. Maden took the other and together they lifted. The cart creaked and swayed a little as it moved forward, but the load stayed secure. Beldror strode ahead.

At last, they halted beside Padhag Klen. Dovan and Maden rested the cart and leaned back to stretch their muscles. Beldror already stood at the base of The Tree, staring into the branches, his hands on his hips. Jahl perched on a limb just above him.

“So, this is the tree that talks, is it?”

 “No, it doesn’t talk.” Dovan untied the ropes on the cart. “It’s a tree.”

Beldror turned and raised an eyebrow. Then he looked again at the tree. “It’s a big tree. Lots of firewood in that, I’d say.

The two boys stared at each other, aghast.

“It’s Padhag Klen!” Dovan said. “It’ll never be firewood.” He tossed an armful of small branches where the fire was to be set.

“Sorry.” Beldror scratched behind his ear. “But I’m confused. Your father is ‘Treespeaker’. I presumed that meant he talks to trees. If this tree doesn’t speak, why is it so important?”

“It’s the centre of… I mean…well… it’s complicated.” Dovan’s ears burned. “You should really ask my father about it.”

 “Perhaps I will. So, what is this thing tonight? Why the fire?”

“SpringSpeak,” Maden said, throwing a larger branch into the circle of stones in the centre of the clearing. “Again.”

Dovan glared at his friend. The last thing he wanted was for Beldror to be told about his father’s strange behaviour at the last Speak. Dovan knew what people were thinking – his father had suffered some sort of madness that night.

It was too late. Beldror’s face lit with curiosity. “Again?”

Unperturbed by Dovan’s glowering, Maden went on to give Beldror a detailed account of the event, describing the Treespeaker’s reactions and his final collapse. Dovan cringed at Beldror’s keen interest. At last Maden finished, only then having the grace to cast Dovan an apologetic look.

Beldror studied Padhag Klen for a moment. “So, is he well again now?” His eyes seemed to burn into Dovan.

“Yes, he’s fine.”

“Has he told you what he saw?”

Dovan had been asked that question many times over the past fortnight, in quiet conversation, when the questioner was sure his father was out of earshot. Each time his answer had been the same. “No, he only spoke to Kattanbek.” He didn’t tell anyone of the nightmares his father had suffered since, or of the sudden concern that crossed his face at odd moments. He’d never seen his father like that before and it worried him. What the others thought worried him. Dovan became desperate to change the subject.

“Do people in Carlika believe in anything?”

 “Anything they like, basically.” Beldror laughed at the look of incredulity on the boys’ faces. “We have gods for everything – health, wealth, love, you name it. We have them all covered. But most people just believe in whatever suits them, usually money.”

Dovan suddenly became aware that his mouth was open. He shut it and moved to grasp another branch from the wagon. “Don’t you have any god or spirit guiding you?” The branch splintered as it landed on the pile.

Beldror sat down on a root of Padhag Klen and shook his head. “We all pretty much do whatever we want. Until there’s some sort of catastrophe and then lots of people start looking to the gods or magic to save them.”

“Magic?” Maden stopped, leaning on the branch he carried. “What sort of magic?”

“Maybe our visitor can tell you of that some other time.”

The boys spun round. Jakan stood on the edge of the clearing, his arms folded, his face serious. Dovan swallowed and offered a silent prayer of thanks that his father hadn’t arrived a few minutes earlier.