Treespeaker (8 page)

 “Thank you. Goodnight.” He watched her walk away, making a mental note to speak with Dovan about staying away from Beldror.
Kattan,
he thought,
why aren’t you here now? I could really use your help.

With a determined set to his jaw, he wheeled about and strode to Grifad’s cottage.

He took a deep breath and rapped on the door. Halla opened it. She dropped her chin when she saw him, glancing up at him sideways with one slate-gray eye and smiling a crooked smile. She always reminded Jakan of a starved water rat, ragged and bony. Her plight in being married to Grifad always tugged at his heart. He laid a hand on her shoulder in greeting and, without a word, she signalled him to enter.

Grifad and Beldror both sat at a low table in the centre of the room drinking what Jakan guessed, from the smell, to be honeyed wine. Grifad sniffed when he saw Jakan. Beldror looked at him over the top of his cup, but gave no sign of greeting.

“I wish to speak to your guest, Grifad,” Jakan said.

“We’re busy.”

The hairs rose on the back of Jakan’s neck and he flexed his hands to stay calm.

“Can I get you a drink, Jakanash?” Halla’s voice was timorous.

“No thank you, Halla, I’ll not be long.”

“As I’ve said, Jakan, we’re busy. Maybe you could call back at a more convenient time.”

Grifad stood and moved towards Jakan, his chest puffed out like a pigeon. Behind him, Jakan could see the ever-present smirk on Beldror’s lips growing wider.

“I would like to speak with Beldror now. It’s important.”

“In that case, perhaps it would be better to wait until the morning and discuss it before the Council?”

Jakan stepped up to Grifad’s stuck-out chest. He looked down on the man and growled, “This isn’t Council business. It’s a private matter I wish to discuss. Now, if you would be so kind as to step out for a moment, I won’t disturb you for long.”

He could see the pulse beating in Grifad’s neck as the Elder backed away, shooing his wife outside. As the door shut behind them, Beldror rose to his feet, looking amused by the whole scene.
Keep me calm, Arrakesh,
Jakan prayed as his hands shook.

“Beldror, as a guest in this village you’re bound by the same laws as the people of Arrakesh. In encouraging those boys to go against the edicts of the SpringSpeak, you have broken those laws. Therefore, I insist that you leave, at once.”

Beldror moved a step closer and folded his arms. “Strong words, Treespeaker.” There was more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “You told Grifad that this wasn’t a Council matter, but I believe it is they who decide who may and may not be here. It would, of course, have to be a majority decision, there being no Chief Elder at the moment.”

 “It’s Arrakesh who decides. He’s decided.”

Again Beldror took another step closer. Though Jakan was quite tall for an Arrakeshi, Beldror was of typical Carlikan stature and stood a good head and shoulders taller than him. He glowered down at Jakan with undisguised loathing.

“I am here, Treespeaker. Your beloved Arrakesh let me in. If he wants me to leave, then he – or you – must make me.”

Jakan looked Beldror in the eye, clenching his jaw against the clawing pain in his head and clinging to the soothing voice of Arrakesh. “I don’t know how you got through the Veil, or what power you have over my people. I don’t know what you expect to achieve by taking over their minds. But I do know this: while I have breath in my body, I’ll do everything in my power to stop you.”

Beldror threw back his head and laughed. “Brave little Treespeaker! I would never have thought you had it in you.” Then the smile vanished and he put his face close to Jakan’s. “You may have been strong enough to fight me so far, but I will have your mind for my own one day, or you will indeed be without breath.”

He strode to the door and flung it open. Grifad almost fell into the room. Beldror regarded him with disdain before glaring at Jakan. “Goodnight, Treespeaker, I’m sure we’ll speak again very soon.”

Jakan left, thankful that the pain in his head was subsiding and wishing once again that he could seek Kattan’s advice.

Jakan rested his weight on his heels and stared up into the branches of Padhag Klen. Worry creased his brow. Above him, the new green leaves of spring were edged with brown. Some curled in on themselves like cocoons, looking ready to drop at any moment. This shouldn’t be. Not half of spring had passed yet.

He moved to the trunk and held out his hand. Touching the bark brought a stream of emotions, but the messages that flowed to him remained unclear. Jakan rubbed his eyes and stepped away. Nothing made sense anymore. For a moment, a feeling of helplessness threatened to overpower him.

With a tired sigh, he trudged home. As he entered the cottage, he put his cloak on the hook by the door. A pot of broth hung from the hob above the fire, simmering and sending out a wonderful aroma of yams, wild onions and rabbit meat that made Jakan’s mouth water, despite his mood.

Jalena came from the sleeping quarters, carrying a bowl of water for him to clean himself. Her hair was tied back with a green scarf she had woven herself. Jakan cast her a smile as he sipped a quick taste of the soup from the pot and she grinned back, shaking her head. She put the bowl on the table and came to him, slipping her arms about his waist.

“How has your day been?”

“The hunt went well, though we could have done with more men. And there’s a good pile of wood building up for next winter.” He thought of telling her of Padhag Klen, but she couldn’t help, so why burden her? “How about you?”

 “Fine. Megda’s hands are aching, so I took her a salve and ended up spending most of the day with her making bread. She’s lonely since Kattan died.”

“Is she in need of healing?”

 “She’ll be fine. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

He held her tighter. “Pretty soon, the village won’t need me. They’ll come to you for all their ills.” He cast a glance at the hook by the door where the cloaks hung. His serious mood returned. “No sign of Dovan yet?”

 “He’s probably still out with a party.”

Jakan bent to throw a piece of wood onto the fire. “He didn’t go out with the hunting party and I didn’t see him bringing in wood. I was by the stockpile when they came in.”

Jalena looked as if she was going to say something in her son’s defence but thought better of it. Jakan was glad of it. He hadn’t been easy to live with lately, he knew, but nothing she said about Dovan would help right now. After the incident with Maden, he had warned him about Beldror, but his son’s reaction had been nonchalant. Jakan suspected that the boy had gone against his advice, and this irked him more than he cared to admit.

They had eaten most of their meal before Dovan came in. He said nothing as he entered, but nodded a greeting before removing his cloak and hanging it on the hook. His brown hair was tussled and his face slightly flushed. He came to sit at the table with them and Jakan noticed the strong scent of honeyed mead about him. Jalena began to stand, but caught the irate look that Jakan sent her. She slid back onto her cushion.

Jakan didn’t look at his son. “It’s customary for a man to wash the toil from his hands before sitting to a meal with his family.”

“Sorry.” Dovan started to get up.

“Ah, but I’d forgotten! You have no toil to wash from yours, have you?” Jakan’s voice was low and gruff, as if flowing over gravel. Jalena closed her eyes and he felt a flash of guilt. He knew she hated it when he and Dovan argued, but sometimes there was no alternative.

Dovan was halfway up from his seat, but sat back down. He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it without a word. His face grew redder than ever.

At last he spoke. “I’ve been studying.”

Jakan stared at his son. Then his eyes narrowed. “With Beldror?”

Dovan seemed oblivious to the terseness of Jakan’s voice. He became quite animated. “You studied with Varyd Kohl, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I studied with Varyd. But did I not say to you, just the other day, that I didn’t want you to associate with Beldror?”

“I don’t see why not, Father. Beldror’s teaching me all about life in Garuga, the city in Carlika he comes from. I need to know. After all, I can take my sharesh in a few moons.”

An old disappointment filled Jakan’s soul. He had never taken his own sharesh, for a Treespeaker was bound within the Veil forever. He had hoped that Dovan would never go for the same reason, but he bore no sign of having the gift.

Dovan, relaxed by the mead, played with the fastening on his tunic as he continued. “Carlika must be such a great place to live. They have so much more than we have here. They can all read you know, and they have buildings called libraries, full of books about everything that has ever happened. They’re printed on the finest cloth and bound in leather. And they have communal eating houses called inns where everyone can go to eat together.”

“What’s wrong with eating at home?” Jakan dropped his spoon into the bowl as he spoke, swiping at the drops that splashed onto the table. “Can the women in Garuga not cook?”

 Dovan reached for some bread from a bowl in the centre of the table and began to tear it into tiny pieces. “Yes, of course, but this way they get to have a rest from cooking.” He piled the breadcrumbs in front of him
.

 “So are the women of Garuga overworked?”

Dovan frowned and glanced at his mother. He was obviously getting a little worried about where this conversation was going. “All women deserve a break sometimes!” He cast Jalena a placating smile. Her lips curled a little in reply.

“Yes,” Jakan said, “a woman needs to be respected for the amount of work she does.”

Dovan said nothing, but nodded, looking relieved.

Jakan wiped his mouth on his hand. He stared at the bowl in front of him as his anger erupted. “So she doesn’t need her lazy, disrespectful, seventeen-year-old son strolling in late for his meals, not having the courtesy to wash and then expecting her to dash away from her own meal to serve his!”

Father and son glared at each other for a moment. Both had their fists balled in front of them on the table. Dovan backed down first, pushing himself away and standing up.

“I’m sorry, Mother. I wasn’t thinking.”

Jalena’s nod was almost imperceptible. Dovan went over to the bowl, now on a cupboard under the window, to wash. Jalena began to clear the wooden dishes. She looked pale and kept throwing Jakan pleading looks. Jakan realised that she hoped he would move away from the table and leave Dovan to eat his meal alone, but he stayed, resting his chin on his hands and glaring at nothing in particular. He had a lot more to say yet.

He remained silent until Dovan served himself a meal and came back to sit, looking nervous. Even then, Jakan said nothing until his son was well into his meal.

“Tell me,” he said, “has Beldror told you what would be in those books – the ones about everything that has ever happened? Has he told you how the forest that covered the whole land was destroyed, the people murdered? About the wars that have been fought in Carlika ever since then, over who owns what? About the slave trade? About the poor who die for lack of food, whilst others grow fat? Has he told you all that?”

His son’s face paled. “Well, no, but…”

“And what have you taught Beldror of our ways?”

 “Our ways?”

“Yes, the ways of the Arrakeshi. What have you taught him of the ways of the Arrakeshi?”

His son stuck out his lower lip. “We’ve discussed a few things.”

“Have you explained to him, perhaps, how Arrakesh keeps us safe from the violence and greed of the Outlands? How, without him, we would be living in skin tents, travelling from place to place, incessantly in search of food? Or worse, we’d be fighting for our lives against Outlanders who see our forest as a source of materials to feed their greed? Did you explain how Arrakesh helps us to work together for the common good?”

Dovan shrugged. “That’s not how Beldror sees it,” he said. “He says that in Arrakesh, the common good is seen as so paramount that individual talent is undervalued. Life is so labour-intensive that no progress can ever happen. And as for receiving the will of Arrakesh –”

“Dovan!”

It was Jalena who interrupted her son. Jakan held up his hand to silence her. Dovan looked sheepish.

 Anger bubbled in Jakan’s chest. “Go on. As for receiving the will of Arrakesh…?”

Dovan shifted on his cushion and fiddled with his spoon. “Well, he simply questions how anyone can believe that an inanimate object like a tree can tell just one man how a whole village should organise their lives…” He trailed off, looking defeated.

Jakan’s heart beat so hard he felt ill. “That one man being me?” He stressed each word.

The colour drained from his son’s face.

“So Beldror says I’m a liar?” Jakan’s voice had the low growl of a bear about to attack.

Dovan said nothing. Abruptly Jakan slammed his fist onto the table making everything shake. He glared at Dovan.

“I can’t believe that my own son would freely associate with someone who spouts such sacrilege.” His eyes narrowed. “But to actually repeat it in this house…!”

There was a moment’s silence.

Dovan glared. “I didn’t say I agreed with him!”

“So you argued with him?” Jakan waited, hoping, but Dovan dropped his gaze to the table and remained silent. Jakan’s face burned. “You will not associate with this man again!”

“How can you say that, when you yourself had such a good friendship with an Outlander?”

Jakan took a deep breath. He’d not handled this well, he knew. “Varyd and I discussed our respective lives. He taught me about Carlika, I taught him about Arrakesh. Never once did he show disrespect for my beliefs, nor I for his.” He pointed a finger at his son. “I repeat, you will not associate with Beldror. He’s evil. The sooner he leaves this village the better!”

At this Dovan leapt to his feet. “You can’t tell me what to do. There’s nothing wrong with Beldror. If I want to have him as a friend, I will! Do you think I’m still a child that you can tell me who I can have as my friends? That’s my choice.”

Jakan stood and drew himself to his full height. It didn’t seem long ago that he would have towered over his son. Now he stared at Dovan’s nose. He raised his voice to compensate.

“You still behave like a child and you’re still my son! And while you live in my house, you’ll do as I say!”

As soon as the words left his lips, he realised his mistake.

Dovan threw his hands in the air. “Fine! Then I won’t live in your house anymore!” He cast Jakan a contemptuous look. “Who wants to live with a madman anyway?”

“Dovan. Please!” Jalena stood, her arms outstretched.

Dovan shrugged at her, then turned and strode to lift his cape from the hook. For a brief second he paused before opening the door. Then he was gone.

The slam of the door was like a knife in Jakan’s heart. Jalena’s sobs broke it in two. He shut his eyes as the image of the taloned feet lifted his son away.

Madman?
he thought.
Is that what they all think?