Vagrants: Book 2 Circles of Light series (7 page)

‘Emla said she would
send copies of some of the books in her library,’ Nolli was saying.
‘I do hope she remembers.’

Gan smiled at the Wise
One. She looked much better lately. In the days immediately after
the occupation of Rhaki’s stronghold, Gan had feared for her life.
He had consulted Dessi and Lorak and Fenj. Lorak had made up some
potions, nearly as foul tasting as those he still insisted Farn
drank, and which Nolli complained about nearly as loudly as Farn.
Dessi had used power to gently strengthen Nolli’s frail system and
both Fenj and Lorak had spent much time telling the Wise One
terrible jokes. Now her cheeks and eyes had lost their deathly
sunken aspect and her spirits had lifted.

At an increasing noise
from the hall, Gan started to rise, but before he could do so a
Kephi shot into the room. Nolli and Gan stared at it, Nolli with a
growing smile and Gan with dismay. It was smaller than Khosa with
light brown fur, which had smudges of black on it, as though
someone had stroked it with sooty fingers. Brilliant green eyes
glared at them and an impressive moustache bristled beneath a
minute black nose.

‘And who might you be
little one?’ Nolli asked in what Gan could only think of as a
nauseatingly sweet tone.

The Kephi seated itself
demurely, tail wrapped over its front feet and bristles relaxing.
‘My name is Resh. I am a son of Khosa.’

Gan groaned aloud and
received glares from both Resh and Nolli. He stood up hastily and
headed out of Nolli’s room. He nearly fell over an even smaller
Kephi, which darted between his feet and skidded to a halt beside
Resh.

‘Oh another of you,’
Nolli cooed. ‘If Emla remembered to send you, she will surely not
have forgotten the books!’

Gan stopped and stared
at the melee in the hall. The kalfi had been brought right up from
the lower levels with their carts and stood patiently as Delvers
fussed over them. The relief Guards were calling to friends who had
been on duty in the stronghold as supplies were unloaded. And an
infinite number of Kephi seemed to be skittering
everywhere.

Gan looked across to
where Farn sat, backed against the wall, eyes whirring in anxiety,
as three small Kephi sat upright, staring at him. A diminutive
black Kephi was already crouched on Fenj’s arm. Its eyes as
sapphire as Farn’s, it was practically choking as it crooned
enthusiastically to the great black Dragon.

Gan caught a passing
Guard’s sleeve. ‘How many?’ he asked.

‘Thirty Guards Sir, two
officers.’

The Guard struggled to
keep the large crate balanced on his shoulder as he
spoke.

‘No, no, no. How many
Kephi?’

‘Oh. The Lady Emla said
a dozen should be enough Sir.’

Gan nodded for the
Guard to carry on. A dozen? Dear stars.

Seeing that officers
Trem, Salak and Nomis were dealing with the situation, Gan decided
it was an opportune time to pay one of his now customary visits to
Jal. He strode up the slope from the hall and rounding the corner,
found Tika sitting on the floor, Khosa sprawled against her chest.
Gan squatted beside Tika in concern as he saw tears on her cheeks.
Belatedly, he realised Tika was fighting laughter as Khosa turned
her head towards him.

‘I came on this journey
to escape the multitudes of my family.’

Khosa sounded so
mournful and Gan saw Tika biting her lip against laughter again.
Gan felt almost sorry for the Kephi as she said: ‘It isn’t easy,
you know, dealing with all the squabbles. And there are so very
many of them.’

Gan cleared his throat,
avoiding Tika’s glance.

‘Are these dozen all
your children Khosa?’

For a moment the royal
spark glinted in Khosa’s blue eyes.

‘I think five are my
children. The rest are grandchildren, or nephews, or nieces. I lose
track.’

She turned her head,
nuzzling in to Tika’s neck. Gan grinned broadly at the back of the
Kephi’s head.

‘I’ll leave you in
peace then,’ he said sympathetically.

Tika stuck her tongue
out at him as he straightened and strode on along the
passage.

The healer was absent
when Gan reached Jal’s room and Jal himself was sitting on the edge
of his bed. He looked up as Gan entered. He wore loose trousers but
was bare-chested and barefooted. He gave Gan a shaky smile.
‘Exercises,’ he explained ruefully. ‘I’m getting better at it, but
it feels so lopsided when I walk.’

Gan nodded and sat on
the opposite bed.

‘The relief band has
arrived so have you reached any decision? You can go back to Gaharn
with the present band now, or wait until the next relief in thirty
days when you’d feel stronger? You could rest in Gaharn until you
went to the south if that is your wish.’

Jal met his gaze
squarely. ‘If it’s all the same to you Sir, I’d like to stay here
until I learn to manage a bit better wrong handed. If you think I
could truly be of any worth, I would like to work with
you.’

Gan smiled and just
stopped himself from slapping Jal on the shoulder.

‘I am delighted to hear
that Jal. There is much you can help with here, for a while at
least. You are more experienced than any Guards officer I have here
at present.’

Gan studied the man. He
still looked drawn and unwell but Gan thought he might be up to a
small excursion. He investigated a cupboard in the corner of the
room, finding only a pair of boots. He turned to Jal with the boots
in his hand.

‘Are these
yours?’

Jal nodded. Gan helped
him push his feet into the boots then considered Jal’s naked chest
and the bandaged stump of right arm. Triumphantly, Gan took the
healer’s cloak from a hook at the side of the doorway and gently
laid it around Jal’s shoulders.

‘Let’s give Motass a
surprise, and you something different from these four walls to look
at.’

He sensed the cause of
Jal’s apprehension. ‘I promise I will not let you fall or bump your
arm. I swear it.’

Jal looked at him for a
long moment, managed a weak smile and struggled to his
feet.

‘Take my arm Jal. No
shame in a wounded man accepting aid.’

Their progress down the
corridor was very slow but Gan kept talking, making no comment when
Jal came to a halt a couple of times. He merely waited patiently
until Jal ventured on again. Tika and Khosa were sitting where he’d
left them and as he and Jal drew level, Gan said
formally:

‘Jal, may I introduce
the Lady Tika and Khosa, Queen of the Kephi of the Golden Lady’s
Estate?’

Green eyes and
turquoise turned up to survey Jal. Tika smiled at him.

‘Hello. Motass told us
about you – when you were a Ganger,’ she grinned.

Before Jal could muster
a reply, he was amazed to realise the Kephi was speaking to him –
inside his mind.

‘I trust your wound is
mending. Motass is one of the better kinds of two legs – I do hope
you are the same.’

Jal’s jaw
dropped.

‘Don’t bother,’ Gan
murmured, steering Jal on down the slope. ‘I forgot – or perhaps
Motass has warned you. They all seem to use the mindspeech – the
Kephi, Dragons, Delvers. Do you remember anything of the
Delvers?’

Jal shook his head. Gan
saw sweat beading across Jal’s brow and felt the increasing tremors
of weakness running through the arm that clung ever more heavily to
his own. Jal drew a ragged breath as he and Gan rounded the corner
and looked down into the hall. After so long in his quiet sickroom,
the crowd below seemed overwhelming. Gan helped him carefully along
the right side of the hall wall, shielding him as Guards passed
with boxes and packages from the wagons.

Gan eased Jal onto one
of the beds just inside Nolli’s door and piled pillows behind his
back. Sweat poured from Jal now and his face had a grey tinge.
Lanni bustled up with cloths and began to wipe Jal’s face and chest
gently, her eyes widening as she lifted the cloak aside, revealing
the stump of his arm.

Gan turned to Nolli who
had watched silently, the small Kephi Resh equally silent on her
lap.

‘A visitor Nolli. Tired
of his seclusion. I thought a visit might help.’ He spread his
hands. ‘The walk was more tiring to him than I’d hoped. May he rest
here a while? He is Jal, brother of Motass.’

Nolli stared at Jal,
then nodded.

‘Go and find some hot
tea, Gan. And Lorak.’ She grinned toothlessly at his resigned
expression.

Colour was creeping
back to Jal’s face and he realised that the woman tending him was
no bigger than a ten Cycle child.

‘Thank you,’ he
murmured.

She smiled. ‘I am
Lanni.’ She indicated the ancient one. ‘This is Nolli, Wise One of
the Delvers.’

Before Jal could frame
a polite response, a slender youth walked into the room, unnoticing
of Jal seated behind Lanni’s figure.

‘Look,’ said the
newcomer in a light, fluting voice. He held out a small Kephi,
black furred with snow-white paws. Its ears and tail were also
white tipped.

‘He says his name is
Rofu.’

Nolli beamed. ‘This one
is called Resh.’

As Mim dropped onto
pillows beside Nolli’s chair, Jal saw his face and could only
stare. Mim smiled his sweet smile as he noticed Jal.

‘You must be Mim,’ Jal
croaked. ‘Motass told me of you but I did not
understand.’

‘And you are Jal then.
The scales came because I shared Dragon blood,’ Mim explained
easily.

A servant brought a
tray of tea, which Lanni took from him just as Lorak
arrived.

‘And this is Lorak,’
Mim continued. ‘The Lady’s Gardener and Companion of
Fenj.’

Lorak sat beside Jal, a
leather flask materialising in his hand. ‘Try a sip,’ he urged.
‘Most restorative.’

Jal sipped, coughed,
and sat speechless, his eyes watering. Gan stood in the doorway,
casting a rather wild glance at Lorak and the small
Kephis.

‘I am going through to
speak with Berri. If you wish to return to your chamber Jal, Motass
will help you. He is on his way here now.’ He nodded to them all
and left.

Nolli chuckled. ‘And no
doubt several of you small Kephis have already found your way
through to my people, so Gan will not escape.’

‘I see one has decided
to protect Fenj,’ Mim laughed softly.

Lorak grunted. ‘She
says her name is Lula, and she’s fallen asleep and Fenj is
frightened to move.’ He grinned at Jal and offered the flask
again.

Jal found that the
second sip was not quite so searing as had been the first and he
began to feel considerably better.

Hargon rode into Return
soon after midday four days after setting out to visit Seboth.
Fryss greeted him with the news that the Lord Rhaki had announced,
at last

evening’s meal, that he
had more than half the number of stone blocks he required already
cut. Hargon dropped into the chair behind his worktable.

‘So how much longer
before he starts to build?’

‘I would estimate
another fourteen days, maybe less Sir. He recovers within an hour
or two now Sir.’

‘Why did he have to
choose to come here,’ Hargon growled. ‘I have arranged to visit
Tagria shortly. You will be in command here again. Choose out the
fastest koninas to be ready should you need to send me any urgent
news.’

When Rhaki joined
Hargon and Navan for the evening meal, he appeared much as he had
before. But although he drank only water during the evening, Hargon
was interested to notice his hand had the slightest quiver as he
raised his goblet. Perhaps the effects of Rhaki’s extended use of
the power were taking a different form?

Rhaki asked, rather
patronisingly, if Hargon had enjoyed his trip to Far.

‘Such a simple little
fat man, if I remember correctly. He was here when I visited you
once, was he not?’

‘Yes, he was. I’m not
sure Seboth is exactly fat,’ Hargon protested mildly.

‘You cannot deny
‘simple’ though!’ Rhaki laughed.

‘And your building, Sir
Lord?’ Navan interposed smoothly.

‘Going along extremely
well. I believe I will be able to raise the first storeys within a
ten-day.’ He waited for Hargon to show the surprised disbelief he
expected.

Hargon did not
disappoint him. ‘It amazes me Lord Rhaki. It would take my best
craftsmen a Cycle at least.’

Rhaki leaned back in
his chair, satisfied. ‘It would indeed, I’m sure, Hargon. Since I
have been here this time, I notice you seem to have abandoned
entertainments. I recall singers, and tumblers, and of course, your
‘pets’. And I have not seen your own children either.’

Hargon’s fingers
tightened on the arm of his chair, although he kept his expression
bland and his tone of voice light.

‘I apologise Lord. I do
not bother with such trivialities when there is a guest such as
yourself to talk with. Also I have felt weary, and at such times,
entertainments irritate rather than amuse me. Again I apologise.
Would you wish me to summon a singer, or dancers now
Lord?’