As it turned out it was over
an hour before Grinda returned. In the
meantime Elu had puzzled over his questions and his quick disappearance. After several minutes she decided to give up
thinking about it. Too many people had
asked her too many questions that day.
She couldn’t fit her mind around it all. Why was everyone so interested anyway? And an Aksees army? That
was what Grinda had implied. It seemed
too incredible to be true. Aksees had
no interest in such things. They were
too unstable, too selfishly motivated.
After a while she felt the effects of the amityleaf
tea working into her. She climbed onto
Grinda’s bed thankfully. Mirulas, she
thought, are you really dead? She
looked up at the tapestry on the wall.
So, the great hero Fortuminar had killed himself after the death of his
beloved. The pang of sympathy gripped
her again. To love someone like that,
to lose them so suddenly; could the despair ever be so great that you would
turn your own blade upon yourself?
Would she, could she ever do
that for Mirulas? She shuddered at the
thought, but even as she did so, she fell into sleep.
She awoke later to find darkness in the room. She was vaguely glad that she had not
dreamed. She did not think she could
have borne it after all the excitement and weariness the day had caused her.
Wiping at her sticky mouth, Elu rolled over and onto
her back. She was surprised to see
Grinda back in the room, sitting in the corner by the window, his chin cupped
in his hands as he sat looking out over the town below. In the flickering firelight, Elu could make
out the sobre expression of his pensive face.
The circles about his eyes were dark.
“Ah, you are awake.” He had noticed her
stirring. She sat up slowly and
nodded. He said nothing, but went to
the stove and poured her more tea. It
was sharper and tangier this time, refreshing.
She gradually began to feel less sleepy.
“It is late?” she stated questioningly. He nodded.
“I thought it best not to wake you. You have had a tiring day. But now that you are awake, there is
something I would ask of you.”
“What is it?” she asked warily. She knew that Grinda was keeping something
from her, yet she could not help but feel a strange kind of trust in him. It was as though she knew him. She could not
explain where the feeling came from.
She just knew that he would not hurt her.
“I would wish you to join me in an audience with the
Lord of this stronghold,” he told her simply.
There was no coercion in his voice, but there was a firmness to his tone
that gave her no doubt as to what he expected.
“An audience?” she echoed incredulously.
“Interview would be more appropriate a word, I
suppose,” he half smiled. “Elu, I will not lie to you. As you may have noticed since you entered
this town, grave things are afoot in these lands. Everyone is concerned.
Lord Brinda is no less concerned than his people are. There is much we have to discuss.”
“But what has it got to do with me?” she asked,
truly perplexed. “Or you, for that matter?
We are only commoners. I know
nothing of what is happening.”
“On the contrary, I believe you know quite a bit
about what is happening,” he objected quietly, “after all, was it not your own
village that was destroyed and your own people killed? More than that, I believe that you are able
to help Lord Brinda in his cause.”
Elu was astonished at the suggestion. “And how might
that be?” she exclaimed.
“I will tell you all once we have spoken to the Lord
of Grimhabim,” he answered, holding out his hand. “Trust me, Elu, at least
until all has been spoken. This is of
the utmost importance, not only to me, but to many others. I am not at liberty to speak now. But I shall be once we have reached the
Lord’s chambers.”
The Lord’s chambers? Elu was amazed at the suggestion, but said nothing. She allowed Grinda to help her from the bed
and followed him out of the room wordlessly.
For the first time Elu realised how cold it must be
to live in the stronghold during the winter months. The high ground that it rested on made it susceptible to the gale
force winds common in winter, and the grey stone walls provided little
insulation during the snowstorms that usually whirled in from the north. Even now, so early on in the winter months,
Elu felt the need to draw her cloak tightly about her. Her breath caught as clouds of mist upon the
air.
She was surprised at the amount of knowledge Grinda
seemed to have about the castle. As
they wove in and out of various corridors, she began to suspect that he was
actually a spy working for the Lord Brinda.
Why else would he going about dressed as a minstrel, when no other
profession could wheedle their why into any village and any home without
seeming out of the ordinary? Why else
would he have hesitated in giving his name to her, and why else would he be
having private interviews at the Lord’s behest?
What Elu had thought would be pleasant, friendly
private quarters turned out actually to be a bleak, dreary, miniscule room in
the basement floor at the back of the stronghold. The Lord Brinda was already waiting for them at a short, oak
table, lit only by a single candle. It
soon became apparent that this was not actually Brinda’s ‘private’ quarters;
rather they were his ‘intelligence’ quarters.
The room was a serviceable place only in the most clandestine of the
Lord’s endeavours. It was not a place
that he felt comfortable in, neither one that he enjoyed spending his time
in. It was a workroom, little else.
“Ah,” Lord Brinda looked up with a faint smile as
Grinda tapped on the door lightly and let himself in. “At last, you are here.”
His smile faded somewhat as Elu followed in behind, and he looked up at the
wizened storyteller. “This is the girl?” he asked.
“It is,” Grinda replied grimly.
“She is so small,” remarked the Lord, half in
surprise and half in disappointment.
“Men may be small or men may be large, but they are
still men,” Grinda spoke casually, “It is the same with her kind.”
Elu stiffened as he spoke, but said nothing,
stiffening slightly at the strangeness of his words, yet not daring to question
him. She stood silent, and saw that the
Lord Brinda was assessing her with an open but non-hostile gaze. Elu took the opportunity to do the same with
him. He was a surprisingly short man,
but was of a stocky and powerful build.
His beard and moustache were dark and carefully trimmed and set, but his
head was bald, and there were deep furrows in his brow. He was not an old man, neither was he young;
his hands were large and powerful, and the joints were like knots. She suspected that he was very adept with a
sword.
“Please, do sit,” he offered the two with a short
gesture of his hand. “Over here, close to the fire, where it is warm.” He
looked at Elu again and smiled at her suddenly. “It is cold here in the winter,
I see you have found. The stronghold
was never built for comfort, as you can see.
Still, we of Grimhabim are a hardy people. We have grown as accustomed to the cold as we have to our
swords. Please, sit.”
Feeling a little less awkward and uncomfortable at
his words, Elu sat down slowly on the bench, setting herself nearest to the
fire. When they were both comfortably
seated, Brinda took some wine from a nearby shelf and poured the contents into
three mugs that had been set out on the table.
He did not look at Elu as he spoke.
“So, you are Elu Eldeen then, are you? And you have come here from the village of
Welle searching for a friend. Am I
right?” He handed her a mug.
“Yes, sir, you are.” She was not sure what she
should address him as. She hoped he
would not be offended at her ‘sir’.
When he smiled at her again, she knew it was not in his nature to be so.
“Drink,” he ordered softly. Elu did
so. It was a very long time since she
had tasted wine, and this one was a good vintage. Eldeen had been a connoisseur of wine, in his own humble
way. She knew he would have appreciated
the fruity aroma and mellow taste of this one.
“Elu, I shall be frank with you,” Brinda was saying,
as he sat himself down opposite the two. “I know why you are here, and who you
are, and most of your history, from our friend Grinda here. It has been in my best interest to hear
these things from him. I assure you
that I had no wish to know of any of things of my own free will. Grinda himself has told them to me, assuring
me of their importance to my cause. I
hope such a thing does not offend you.”
Elu did not really know what to say to that. What does one say when one finds out that
another knows more about her than she could ever had imagined? She tried to choose her words carefully. “I
do not mind if what you know does not bring me to any harm,” she answered
slowly. She would have said more, but
only found herself trailing off. Grinda
looked at her closely.
“Then I swear to you that I have no evil intentions
towards you at all,” Brinda spoke, leaning forwards and staring into her eyes
with straight-faced seriousness. “I have merely called you here because I think
that you can help me. Would you be
willing to do such a thing, Elu?”
She instinctively looked to Grinda for advice, not
knowing why she did so. She kept on
questioning whether she really trusted him or not. But his expression was unreadable. She turned back to Brinda slowly.
“What is it that you wish me to do?” she asked
warily.
“Ah, of course,” Brinda leaned back and grinned. “I
would not just let you go and do my bidding at the drop of a hat, would I? Let me give you a token of my honesty. I will give you a piece of information that
you seek and you must promise at least to hear out my proposal.” He waited for
an affirmation from her. She
nodded. “Very well, then. I will tell you now that the man you have
sought is not here. He has not passed
this way; neither has any man fitting his description. If I knew where he was I would tell
you. But I cannot.”
It did not surprise Elu. It was already what she had surmised, but somehow to hear it
confirmed was comforting. Whatever
doubts she had felt were now swept away.
And she also knew that Brinda telling her all this was a clever ploy to
get her to help him. Now with the odds
that Mirulas was dead had been raised, she had little to lose in helping
him. She almost felt proud with herself
for working that out. She was about to
say something when the door burst open, causing them all to jump. Brinda was on his feet in a split second,
his hand on his hilt. Then he dropped
his hand when he saw who it was.
“Lairin!” he breathed at last, and his face was
dark. “Did I not tell you never to disturb me when I am at my work? And if you must come here uninvited, can you
not have the common courtesy to knock first?”
The blonde-haired girl was framed in the doorway,
her hair sticking out in various places, her face outraged. “Father, you know I
wish to be a part of your plans! You
cannot allow me to see all these things that are happening and simply sit
around and watch!” She paused when she saw who was in the room. Her eyes gaped when she saw Elu. “Why, it’s
you!”
“You know this girl?” Brinda spoke warily.
“We met this morning, at Kerlan’s quarters,” Lairin
answered, her rage passing. She
considered Elu a moment, then addressed her father again, her eyes brightening.
“Father, is she one of those? You know, those strange people you were
talking about earlier?”
“Lairin, I bid you be silent,” Brinda cut her off
irritably. “If you must stay, then stay.
But I warn you; not a word is to be breathed of this affair, not to
anyone. Do you hear me?”
Lairin looked hurt. “I would never do such a thing,
father, you know I wouldn’t. I only
wish to help.” She stepped into the room and closed the door shut behind her,
but she did not take a seat. Instead
she went to the mantlepiece and began to fuss about like a mother hen, clucking
with displeasure at the amount of dust on it.
Brinda seemed used to her behaviour.
He paid not the slightest attention to her.
“I hope my daughter did not give you any trouble
this morning,” he spoke to Elu apologetically. “She is a willful girl, but she
means no harm. She is terribly
protective of Grimhabim and everything in it.
It is only her way to act like this.”
“She was no trouble,” Elu reassured him. In a way, she admired the girl, even though
she often came across as being rude and insensitive. Not many ladies could boast an interest in their duchies and
their own people, especially not ones as young as Lairin appeared to be. Somehow, it seemed to inspire something in
Elu, a new resolve. If Mirulas truly
were dead, then he would not want her to mope around sorrowing for him. If Grimhabim truly were in trouble, he would
be proud of her for doing something, anything, to help. She leaned forward, suddenly eager to change
the subject.
“What is it that you would wish me to do, sir?” she
asked, a little more confidently.
Lairin paused a moment, staring at her in shock,
obviously at the address she had chosen to give her father. But Brinda only smiled.
“All right, then,” he began, “I shall tell you. There has been much consternation in
Grimhabim of late. As you know, we have
been taking in and questioning many of the travellers that have ventured in
from Éadan. The reason for this is that
we have heard many stories of late of Aksees attacks on the villages
there. There have also been many
refugees coming here, from the villages that those monsters of the Dark have
destroyed. Grimhabim cannot hope to
take them all in. We were forced to
look into the strange behaviour of the Aksees as soon as we possibly could.” He
paused, sighed and drank some of the wine in his mug. When he spoke again though, his tone was dour. “But since we
first looked into this matter, more has happened to cause us a considerable
amount of anxiety. You may not know
this, but Grimhabim is renowned throughout the kingdoms of Fithandani as
possessing one of the greatest intelligence services that has ever existed.”
“One of the greatest?” Lairin’s voice was indignant.
“Don't you mean the greatest?”
Brinda ignored her. “You do not need to know how our
intelligence is gathered,” he continued gravely. “In fact, it is best that you
do not know. What is important is that
we have gathered information that foreign spies have been visiting Grimhabim
and seeking their own intelligence. At
first, we had no reason why they might be here. It was all a great puzzle, a mystery.”
Elu’s look was one of astonishment. “Aksees acting
as spies in your midst? It isn’t
possible! They are not foolish, but
such tasks would be beyond brutes such as them! They have not the mind nor the patience to do such things.”
“I am afraid it is more complicated than that,”
Brinda answered her darkly. His voice
was grave when next he spoke. “The spies were not Aksees, though we suspect
that in light of their sudden and strange martial behaviour, they are connected
with these spies. No,” and he swirled
the wine absently about in his mug, “the spies were men, such as you or I, men
and women who would not be suspected in our midst.”
“What!” Elu was horrified. “Humans, working for the
Aksees? It’s unthinkable! It cannot be true! No one would cooperate with those monsters!”
“Not of their own free will, maybe,” continued
Brinda, staring up at her, “which is, of course, the whole point. These men and women were not working for
their masters of their own free will.
We managed to capture some of them and interrogate them. We did not torture them. Such acts are not the law of Grimhabim. But we did the best we could to extract
information from them, even mixed their food and drink with ground truthwort to
get them to speak. Nothing worked. As soon as they would speak to us, as soon
as their wills were about to break, a madness seized them. They became like animals, barking and
screaming, bolting about the room on all fours, foaming at the mouth, gibbering
nonsense. The only words we could get
out of them were ‘darkness, a darkness covers our eyes.’ They would screech all
night about being blind, that they could see nothing. Not long after, they would die.”
He paused suddenly.
Elu had not realised how lined with emotion his tone had become. He had stopped in order to calm the horror
in his voice. Her own heart was pumping
madly.
“You mean to say, at the very moment that they would
speak to you, they became possessed?
That they went insane?” She shuddered as she imagined those poor people,
caught up in a darkness that bound them, unable to see through it, unable to
break through it. Somehow, the concept
seemed a familiar one to her. “How could the Aksees affect such a change on
humans?”
“Not Aksees,” Lairin cut in sarcastically. She had stopped fussing away at the
mantlepiece and had moved to sit down near her father. “The Aksees are brutes,
even as you say. For them to do such
things is impossible. But we all know
who can cast such dark magics on mortal men.
They are the tûrkals.”
Yes, tûrkals.
One of the four Great Races of Fithandani, those that dwelled in the
northern ice kingdom of Dûrval. Elu
remembered stories that told of them being wizards, of even being
necromancers. Only they could have
caused such horrible effects on those poor men and women.
“They are worshippers of the Dark religion, still,
even after all these years,” Brinda continued slowly. “And they still practice
the Dark arts. Their mages and
necromancers have a power over people the like of which is seen nowhere else in
the whole of Fithandani. It is they we
suspect of sending these spies into our midst, and of driving them mad.”
“But how could they effect such terrible spells over
such a great distance?” Elu asked.
“Don’t you know anything?” Lairin rebuked her
rudely, earning her a warning shot from her father. She paused and composed herself before speaking more patiently to
Elu. “The tûrkals have slaves. Millions
of them. They are the lifeblood of
Dûrval. Every year, the tûrkals raid
the southern borders of their lands and take the people of the villages there
captive to work in their so-called pens.
They even trade slaves with the Aksees and the other Dark
creatures. There are so many slaves
there that the tûrkals would think nothing of spell-binding a few and then
sending them out to do their dirty work for them.” She shook her head slowly.
“Those poor people. Maybe death was the
better option for them.”
There was a silence over the room as everyone mulled
over Lairin’s words. No one could
imagine the plight of those poor slaves turned spies, bound unwillingly to the
will of their masters, carrying out their loathsome duties under the shackles
of Dark spells, only to be turned to madness and death when they had outlived
their uses. It was a few minutes before
Elu could find the strength to speak.
“All right,” she began, her voice wavering slightly,
“You’ve told me what your problem is.
It sounds to me that the tûrkals are somehow orchestrating the Aksees
sudden formation into armies, that they are sending spies into Grimhabim in order
to find your weaknesses. It all sounds
like they’re planning some attack to me.”
“War,” Brinda corrected her grimly, “We’re
suspecting war from Dûrval. Why or how,
we have no clue. But yes; military
action of some sort.”
“But what am I supposed to do?” Elu interrupted
earnestly. “From what I’ve heard, you all seem to think me a special kind of
person. I can tell you now that I am
not. I’m just a normal girl. I’ve been through a lot, granted. But I’m not anything out of the
ordinary. I’m just like you are.”
“Are you quite sure of this?” came Grinda’s voice
from the corner. Elu started and
glanced over at him. He had been silent
during the entire length of the meeting so far, and she had thought him
dozing. But his strange golden eyes
were as alert as ever. She knew then
that he had been listening to everything that was said, biding his time until
the right moment. Even the intentness
of his gaze was enough to make her lose her nerve. She said nothing, and he smiled at her. “You see, you are not
sure, are you? But I tell you this,
Elu; you are a special person. After
all, were you not found in the middle of nowhere, possessing not one memory of
who you were or what had brought you to that place? Are you not plagued by dreams that you know are not mere figments
of your imagination, but those memories that once were yours? Were you not rumoured to be of noble birth,
to be the daughter of a lord and a lady, to have been captured by Aksees and
somehow to have miraculously escaped?
Do not these things alone make you a special person?”
Even before he had finished she was up on her feet,
her grey eyes flashing in fury. “How is it that you know all these things!” she
cried, hardly able to get the words out for her anger. Grinda looked up at her, his expression
calm, placid even.
“I know these things because it was my business to
know them. Sit, Elu. I have been watching you for a long time
now. There are many things I know about
you that you are not aware I know of.”
She sat, slowly, but her heartbeat was still racing
with rage. “How could you have found out,” she whispered. “I had never met you
in my life until this year.”
“I came to you in forms you would not have
recognised,” Grinda said softly, “A bird, a bee, a fly, a wandering vagabond, a
merchant. That is why you did not know
me when you saw me.”
Puzzlement was slowly replacing anger. “I do not
understand,” Elu spoke at last.
“Do you not remember the stories that were once told
you?” Grinda put in mildly. “Tales of an ancient folk, who had the power to
change their form at will? I am one of
them. I posses such a talent. As do you.”
Elu sat back, her mind all in a whirl. Of course she had heard such stories. They were silly children’s tales. But Grinda, one of them? And her? It was the most absurd thing she had ever
heard.
“You think I
am a shapeshifter?” She almost laughed.
When she spoke it out loud it sounded more ridiculous than it actually
was.
“At first I was not sure,” Grinda conceded, “But now
I have come to believe that you are such a creature. Things have happened, Elu, that have convinced me that you have a
part to play in these schemes. Your
very being here, for instance, is proof.
Should you not have been married by now, living out a simple life in a
simple village, never to venture out any further than the nearest well, for the
whole of the rest of your life? Well,
weren’t you?”
She suddenly felt tears spring to her eyes. Yes, she would have been, and it was all she
had ever wanted. Cruel, so cruel, fate
was so cruel.
“Yes, Fate,” he spoke, and Elu jumped at the
repetition of her thoughts. She met his
gaze in horror. “It binds us, Elu,” he continued in a lower voice, “and it was
Fate that compelled you from your home, from the life you would have chosen,
and brought you here to me. Do you see
now, why I believe you are what you are?”
She could not believe it. It was not possible. Yes,
there were things about her that were
different. She would concede him
that. But she was not a person who
could change her form. She knew that to
the very core of her being.
“You cannot be so certain,” Grinda spoke again,
taking up her train of thought as naturally as if she had spoken it out aloud.
“How do you do that?” she gasped, her voice hoarse.
“Do you not remember?” he spoke casually, but his
eyes were intense. “That night you came to me by the Oak Tree? You and I spoke of the Tree as naturally as
conversing about a normal person. We
both took it for granted that we both could hear the Tree, even talk to
it. It is the same with you, my
child. If I listen, I can hear.”
“But,” Elu began wildly. She looked back to Brinda and Lairin, wondering whether they
understood any of this, wondering whether they would suddenly laugh and tell
her it was all a jest. They did
not. Their faces were dark, watchful.
“Listen, Elu,” Grinda said softly. “There are some
creatures, and some men, that are open to the spirits of this world. All things have a spirit. Another self, if you like, that does not
reside bodily in this realm, but is able to slide in and out of it, as easily
as water would. A spirit will often
become attached to the body it belongs to, but it is not the same thing. It is quite separate from this material
world. It cannot be seen or heard like
the things in this material world can.
As a spirit ages, it becomes more potent. It becomes more ‘material’, if you like. All its experiences, all the things it has
seen, merges together into one great force, so powerful that sometimes others
may hear it.” He smiled. “Such a sense of sound is natural to a shapeshifter.”
“But it could mean that my being able to hear the
Tree was simply me being sensitive to its spirit,” she pointed out quickly,
“not that I am a shapeshifter. I have
never shifted form in my life. I’ve
never had any inclination towards it, or even thought or dreamed about it. I cannot be what you say I am.”
Something in Grinda’s face twitched. She did not know what expression that twitch
would have been, but he had hidden it before she could find out. “Perhaps,” he
agreed at last, “But I believe you could have that power, should you wish it.”
He stood and turned to look into the flames of the fire. There was no expression on his face. He suddenly looked tired.
“Well,” Brinda cut in, looking relieved. “She still
has some promise. A sensitivity that
even she herself confesses.” He turned to Elu. “Grinda has been working for me
for some time now. Or rather, he has
been working with me. He is not one of
my spies, and I respect him as my equal.
It is due to his work that we have found out much of the information
that we have now. But, in order to help
our cause further, he will be needing your help.”
“I shall be going on a mission,” Grinda suddenly
spoke up, though he did not turn from the fire, “to the eastern kingdom of
Rofaçilin. I wish to inform the king
there, Morçant, of the tûrkal’s likely intentions. If there is to be war, all the kingdoms devoted to the Light
shall have to have their defenses ready.
But I have an errand I wish to run on the way, one that is of the utmost
importance, Elu, and one that I cannot achieve without your help.” He turned
then, looked her fully in the eye with an unwavering gaze. “Will you aid me in
my goal?” he asked firmly. It was not a
request, nor an order. Just a simple
proposal, an offering, one she could either accept or refuse. She had no idea how Grinda thought she could
help him, but she expected it had something to do with this shapeshifter
business. She almost laughed at the
thought. How absurd!
Carefully, she weighed up the advantages. As she had noted before, she had nowhere
else to go and nothing else to do. She
could try and make her own aimless way from here on in, or follow Grinda on his
so-called mission. If he insisted that
she shapeshift for him, she would have a go at it, fail, and then he would be
forced to admit his mistake. Then she
would be free to decide what to do next when she came to it. There was nothing to lose.
“All right,” she nodded at last, “I’ll go with you. But if I fail in helping you with whatever
it is you want me to do, I want you to let me be free of your authority, to do
as I please. Are we agreed?”
He grinned, stretched out his hand and they shook on
it. There was relief on Brinda’s face,
and excitement on Lairin’s.
“Can I go too?” she asked of her father, bright-eyed
and expectant.
“You will stay here,” he told her severely. “Think
that I would send my only daughter and heiress out into the wild where I cannot
mark her?”
“But it is the kind of life I wish to lead!” Lairin
said, putting petulantly. Elu half
thought that she would stamp her foot as well.
“You shall not,” Brinda repeated levelly, his tone
such that all knew that he did not wish to hear the matter spoken of
again. He looked across at Elu again.
“I cannot thank you enough, Elu. We are
indebted to you. If there is anything
you ask for, ask for it, and it shall be given unto you.”
“There is only one thing I wish, and that is if you hear
any word of Mirulas, please let him know that I am alive and well, and that
when I have done all that you wish me to do, I will return to him.” She had not
known what else to say to him. There
was nothing else that she really wanted.
Brinda regarded her gravely. “It shall be as you wish,” he said
quietly. He rose and smiled. “I would
be grateful if the two of you would join me for repast this evening before we
retire to bed. Your stories would be a
pleasing interlude to a arduous day, my friend Grinda.”
“Then I shall be honoured to join you at your board,
my Lord,” he smiled and gave a short bow.
Never before had Elu enjoyed such a filling meal
until that night. Lord Brinda’s dining
hall was longer than it was wide, and at the far end was a high dais on which
lay the lord’s table. There sat the
Lord Brinda, his proud-faced Lady Laoda on one side, and the Lady Lairin on the
other. About him sat the other, lesser
nobles of Grimhabim and his guests.
Below the dais, in the main space of the hall, were laid out other
tables where the valets, ladies-in-waiting, servants, maids, stablemen and
other staff of the stronghold were seated in descending order of their
rank. There was a merry atmosphere in
the hall, and everyone talked freely.
Elu was seated near the dais as a guest, next to a woman who was the
wife of a merchant who had recently come in selling furs from the Rillon
Forest. She was an avid gossip, and
would not stop talking, even when it was evident that Elu did not enjoy
chatting as much as she did.
“Things have been in a bad way with
the trading routes recently,” the woman was saying, while tucking well into her
meal at the same time. She was round
and plump, and obviously enjoyed her food. “My husband has been unable to get
through to most of the villages and towns in Éadan. Several of the roads have been over-run by Aksees bandits. My husband says that if the problem isn’t
sorted out soon, business is going to be bad for us merchants.”
Elu simply nodded. She was hungry, not having eaten since early
on that day. The food was finer than
any she had had in a long time. The
bread was soft and tasted of fresh wheat.
The meat had been cut from a large leg of mutton, with a stew of
potatoes, onions and carrots besides.
Sweet mead was being passed around aplenty. Elu was not prepared to pass up such a chance feast as this. If she were to go on this mission with
Grinda, no doubt there would only be a meagre supply of food. The woman continued, her mouth still half
full.
“Still, there is always business to
be had here in Grimhabim. Brown bear
fur is much the fashion in these parts.
We managed to sell fifty bolts today, to the court tailor. A hundred gold pieces, they sold for. My husband only sells the finest furs, he
does. What does your husband do for a
living?”
“I am not married,” Elu replied
quietly, wishing fervently that the woman wouldn’t talk so.
“Really?” The woman looked very
surprised. “Well, that is not well for a woman of your age! How old are you?” She did not wait for an
answer, but peered at Elu closely. “Twenty-two, is it? I should think so. You are far too old to be left unmarried. You see the Lord’s daughter, sitting up
there by his side?” She pointed up at Lairin with a plump hand. “She was
handfasted not two weeks ago, when she turned sixteen. Women should always be married as young as
possibly they can. Gives them a better
chance of bearing a babe.” She almost made it sound callous. Elu was just wondering whether she could
safely manage to slip away or not, when she was saved by the sudden striking up
of a song. The minstrels had gathered
by Lord Brinda’s table, and at their head was Grinda the Storyteller. They had already launched into a retelling
of Tilmary and the Thousand Walkers,
which was just as much a favourite in Grimhabim as it had been in Welle. Grinda was singing the story in time to the
music, and his voice lifted through the great hall sonorously. Elu was amazed at how beautiful his voice
was. No longer was it the voice of an
old man; almost he sounded like a young man, his tone strong and in its
prime. Almost everyone fell silent,
even the gossiping woman next to Elu.
There were gasps when he spoke of great battles, applause at the many
exhilarating escapes of the lay’s characters, laughter at the jests, tears at
the deaths. When at last the song had
ended there was a great amount of clapping and cheering. Grinda took his bows and rejoined his table. The minstrels immediately struck up another
lively tune at the Brinda’s request.
“He is a good man, that one,” the
merchant’s wife said to Elu, nodding towards Brinda himself. “A brave fearless
man. He is wise as well as hardy in
battle. A man such as that would be as
best for you, my dear. Sadly, they are
rare in this world.” She sighed dramatically as though it were nigh the end of
the world. Elu wondered if she would
ever let the matter pass. She was saved
from anymore conversation with her dining partner by Grinda coming over and
tapping her lightly on the shoulder.
“Elu, I crave a word with you. Will you join me?”
Elu excused herself from the table
and followed Grinda out of the hall and back to his room. As soon as they were back inside he closed
the door behind him, drew up a chair for her, and stoked up the fire in the grate. When she was seated, her turned to her.
“I shall set out on the morrow,
Elu. I have already discussed things
with Brinda. You shall stay here. I have asked Brinda to prepare you for your
journey. You will need to be acquainted
with a sword. I see you have a dagger
on you. Do you know how to use it?”
“Not really,” Elu spoke, fingering
the small blade at her belt. She felt a
little regretful about it. If what
Brinda surmised was true, then there would be many Aksees and many enemies
walking the road. She grudgingly
accepted the wisdom of Grinda’s words.
“Then Brinda shall make sure that
you learn,” he said briskly. “It may take a little time, but that is well. Hopefully there shall still be some time
left before this whole precarious situation erupts.” He halted, then moved to
take his pack, which had been lying under his bed. He rummaged through it until he had found the large scroll that
he wanted. Unrolling it he laid it
before the fire so that they both could see it clearly in the glow of its amber
light. Elu looked at it in
interest. A map, not an especially old
one, but it was wrinkled and dog-eared nevertheless. It was a map of the lands of Fithandani. Very clearly she found the red spot that was
Grimhabim. It seemed strange, to see
the worlds that she had heard about in legend and hearsay, laid out before ones
eyes. It gave one a sense of placement,
of one’s position in a wide world filled full of people. It almost made one feel insignificant. How many others like her had suffered at the
hands of the Dark creatures? What would
happen to the people of these lands if the tûrkals really were instigating a
war?
“Here is what we are going to do,” Grinda spoke, leaning over the map and beckoning Elu next to him. She left her chair and knelt down by the map. It was a fine piece of work. Whoever had drawn it had done so lovingly. “Look carefully,” he continued. He raised a finger and from the red blob that was Grimhabim he traced a path east. “When you have finished your training, you will travel east, to the Calliss Plateau, here.” He circled the highlands that marked the boundary between the Municipality of Grimhabim and the Kingdom of Rofaçilin. “Once you are there, the main trail will lead through to some caves. It should take you a few days to get there. Once you arrive at the caves, I will meet you there. We will travel on together.”
Elu perused the map carefully. By the caves were marked the words ‘Zikthra Z’asalki.’ Elu repeated the name falteringly. “A
strange language,” she remarked wryly.
“It is the language of the Asalki,”
Grinda explained, “And those caves are their home.”
“Asalki?” Elu had never heard of
such a race before. “What are they?”
“They are strange creatures, water
nymphs, of a sort, yet unlike them. They
have a strange affinity with water, but they do not live exclusively within
water. They are an odd society. It would be better to see them yourself
rather than for me to explain them to you.” He passed her a sidelong glance. “I
believe they are able to help. They are
older than many other creatures that live upon this earth, and are wiser. They have seen more than many care to have
seen. And,” he grimaced, “they have
something that belongs to me.”
Elu caught the taut note to his
voice. “And what is that?” she asked cautiously.
“You will find out soon enough. It is too dangerous to explain too much to
you now,” he added quickly when he saw her dubious look. He gazed at her intensely. “You must trust
me Elu. Believe me when I say that you
are something special. I know you are. I have always known, since I first met you. It is as I said; I have been watching you
for a long time. I would not have invested
so much time and interest in you, if I was not sure. Do not worry,” he laid a hand on her shoulder, and once again she
was startled at its strength. “When we reach Zikthra Z’asalki I shall explain
more to you. For now, I may not. Your appearance here today has changed many
things, and set many a new course that was not open before. I have no time to explain such things
now. We must move swiftly.” He pressed her shoulder once more, then
turned to roll up the map again. Elu watched
his knotted hands with interest, wondering why she placed so much trust in this
strange man that she did not even know.
It seemed odd, but she did not feel threatened in his presence, nor did
she feel any sense of an ulterior motive on his part. There was something about him that made her feel secure and at
ease, and more than that, a complete and utter faith in him.
“What will you do while I am still
here?” she asked him inquiringly as he stood up to put the map back into his
pack.
“There are matters of my own I must
attend to,” he answered evasively. “As I have said, things have happened, and
there are now several threads I must now tie together. Do not worry,” he looked over his shoulder
to pass her a reassuring glance. “I shall meet you as planned, without
delay. I promise you that.”
He busied himself with packing the
small clutch of his belongings in readiness for the morrow. “It would be best
for you to rest now, Elu,” he spoke lightly, “Lord Brinda has promised to begin
your training in swordsmanship tomorrow.
He has also had a room prepared for you next door. I suggest you rest while you can.” He smiled
at her. “I shall not be there when you awaken tomorrow. This will be farewell until we meet at
Zikthra Z’asalki.”
Elu nodded silently and rose to go
to her own room. As she got to the
door, she turned and looked back at the strange old man.
“Are you really a
shapeshifter?” she asked curiously.
He did not turn to her.
“In a way,” he replied. “What do the
tales tell of the shapeshifters? That
they were lords and ladies, kings and princes; that they were witches and
wizards; that they were men who lived many ages longer than those of normal
mortal men.” He swivelled round then, his bright eyes flashing in the
firelight. “I am none of those,” and he passed her his lopsided minstrel grin.
“I am far superior.”
And with that last tantalizing clue, he turned once more and bade her goodnight.
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Eight