Angus Wells - The Kingdoms 02 (39 page)

           
Kedryn and the Sister were far less
concerned with betrayal, for they pinned their hopes on Kalar and Wyll,
trusting in the men to bring them to the Gathering far more swiftly than they
might have managed unguided. And it seemed they were the wiser in this, for
neither man sought to flee and offered only respect to their charges as they
progressed through the winter-decked timber of the Beltrevan along paths the
questers might never have discovered unguided.

           
Even so, it took long days before
they approached the great clearing that surrounded Drul’s Mound and their
guides halted.

           
“We had best tread carefully now,”
Kalar told Wynett, waiting as she translated his words, “for your presence will
be unexpected. I had best go before, announcing the coming of the hef-Alador. ”

           
Wyll cut poles as he spoke, lashing
bunches of the red and white peace feathers to the ends, fixing more to the
bridles. Tepshen Lahl fastened ribbons of the same colors to his sword hilt and
Kedryn’s.

           
“There will be dogs,” Kalar warned,
reminding Kedryn of the vicious hounds that had flooded into High Fort, “and
folk wary of your presence. Offer them no offense, but follow us to Cord’s
lodge.”

           
Wynett translated this and Kedryn
nodded, clasping her hand as he glanced to Tepshen. The kyo grunted his assent
and they mounted, Kalar taking Kedryn’s bridle, Wyll marching beside him, each
holding aloft the feather-hung poles.

           
They smelled the Gathering before
they saw it, the sweet odor of burning wood mingling with the less pleasant
stench of discarded bones and rotting meat, the palpable odor of a myriad
unwashed bodies, of curing hides, of dogs and horses, the skin lodges. The air
darkened with the smoke drifting from the hogans, transforming the sky to a
yellowish hue as they crested the rise and paused above the encampment.

           
Kedryn remembered the vast camp he
had seen spreading down the valley as he spied on the Horde and knew that what
he saw now was smaller, but somehow even more impressive, for that other
grouping had been viewed by night and this he studied in day’s light, able to
see its details.

           
It seemed the great hollow about
that central mound sprouted a thousand mushrooms of giant size, a vast spread
of mottled hides, barbarically splendid, for they hung with skulls and shields
and bright pennants. They radiated from the mound that stood higher than the
tallest lodge, a massive fire blazing at its apex, spreading back in ranks that
suggested some kind of chaotic hierarchy, those closest to the mound more
grandiose than their fellows, the structures declining in size and magnificence
the farther from the center they were. Narrow lanes ran between them, like the
spokes of some enormous wheel, and they were filled with people, men and women
and children jostling one another as they moved, kicking dogs from their path,
the air loud with their chatter.

           
“The Ulan’s lodge is there,” said
Kalar, pointing, “about it, those of the ala-Ulans. Beyond lie the shamans’ and
the bar- Offas’. Mine is there.”

           
Wynett relayed his words and Kedryn
followed his finger to a hogan of medium size as Wyll tugged on a stirrup and
said, “And mine stands there.”

           
Kedryn was more interested in the
lodge of Cord, the Ulan, which stood closest to the mound and consequently farthest
from him. To reach it they would need to traverse the entire section of the
Gathering on this side, and the lanes were too narrow to allow the horses
passage together: to reach the Ulan he must relinquish Wynett’s hand and ride
blind through the massed ranks of the Drott.

           
He took a breath and said, “Let us
proceed.”

           
Wynett, equally impressed, said,
“May the Lady stand with us.”

           
Tepshen Lahl said, “If they offer
treachery, ride, I shall cover your back.”

           
“Come,” said Kalar, and began to
descend the slope.

           
Dogs came running as they caught the
scent of strangers and the two woodsmen began to curse and kick, using their
poles to drive the animals away. The horses grew skittish, and Kedryn found
himself struggling to hold the Keshi war-horse from striking out at the
troublesome hounds. The two barbarians shouted what he took to be an
announcement of his presence, for he caught the word hef-Alador as though in
answer to the cries that rebounded from all sides and heard it repeated,
echoing about him as they rode deeper into the spread of hogans. His nostrils
clogged on the stench as they moved among the lodges and his ears strained for
sound of blade sliding from scabbard, or ax rasping on shield. But Kalar kept a
firm grip on his bridle, grunting as the stallion nickered and sought to bite
at the dogs—or folk, for all Kedryn knew—as he led the way toward the center of
the encampment.

           
There was a great babble of noise
then, and Kedryn felt the horse halt and Wynett’s hand fumble into his,
bringing back sight.

           
He saw the mound before him, and to
his side a lodge even grander than it had appeared from the rim of the bowl. It
was avenued with tall poles on which skulls stood, some still with tatters of
hair and flesh adhering, leading to an awning beneath which grim-faced men with
shaven heads and mail shirts stood clutching swords. They parted as a warrior
he recognized from the peace talks strode between them, a squat man, his
shoulders brawny beneath a cape of otter skin, his black hair bound in a long
tail that swung with the rolling motion of his walk. His chest was bare beneath
the cape, as if he scorned the cold, and marked with a latticework of scars.
About his neck circled a torque of interwoven gold and silver, its brightness
contrasting with his dark skin. His face was flat, the nose broken, and a scar
newer than the others ran from the point of his high cheekbone into the unruly
mass of his raven beard. He wore breeks dyed a garish red, ending in hairy
boots, and about his waist there was a wide leather belt from which hung a
sheathed longs word. He stared at Kedryn and said in guttural, hideously
accented Tamurin, “I am Cord, Ulan of the Drott. I bid you welcome,
hef-Alador.”

           
“I thank the Ulan,” Kedryn
responded. “And offer him my congratulations on his elevation.”

           
Cord laughed then, a deep, rasping
sound, and said, “There were those who denied it. Now their skulls decorate my
trophy poles.”

           
He pointed to the staff farthest
from the entrance, where two globes of bone, fresher looking than the rest,
hung.

           
“Threnol and Farlan, Now I own all
the horses you gave us.”

           
“I wish you well of them,” Kedryn
said

           
Cord grunted, beckoning, “Climb down
and enter.”

           
He shouted something in the language
of the Drott as they dismounted, and when Kedryn took Wynett’s hand again he
saw the shaven-headed Gehrim had sheathed their blades and stood in formal
ranks, something close to respect in their fierce eyes as they studied the
newcomers. Kalar and Wyll stood close by, basking in the attention of the
onlookers who crowded round, whispering and pointing.

           
“These men brought us to you, Ulan,”
Kedryn said. “Should you find it acceptable to reward them for that service, I
would see you compensated.”

           
Cord glanced carelessly at the two
warriors and barked a question that was answered with a flurry of explanation.
When they had finished he looked to Tepshen Lahl and nodded speculatively, then
said, “It shall be done as the hef-Alador wishes. For recompense ... an
ungelded stallion, perhaps?”

           
Kedryn’s jaw tightened a fraction:
although he did not share Tepshen’s near-total distrust of the forest folk he
had no wish to see them mounted on thoroughbred horses, for so equipped they
would make formidable enemies. Nonetheless, he could see no way to avoid the
gift without offending the chieftain and thus endangering his mission and all
their lives. He nodded.

           
“It shall be so. I shall give word
to the Warden of the
Forest
.”

           
“To Brannoc?” Cord chuckled. “Make
it clear word, then, lest that half-breed wolf’s-head try to cheat me.”

           
“The bargain will be honored,”
Kedryn assured him, and Cord ducked his head.

           
“So be it, now enter.”

           
He led the way into the lodge, two
of the Gehrim holding back the hide flaps that covered the entrance, letting
them fall closed behind the quartet, shutting out sight and much of the sound
of the Gathering. Cord took them through what appeared to be a kind of
vestibule, or guard room, to the interior of the place and Kedryn found himself
surprised at its barbaric opulence.

           
Thick wooden columns wound with
multicolored ribbons supported the roof, leaving ample room for even one so
tall as Kedryn to stand comfortably. The floor was scattered with rugs of cloth
and animal skin, concealing the packed dirt beneath, and braziers gave both
warmth and light, the charcoal that burned in their containers sprinkled with
herbs that lent an aromatic scent to the air, masking the underlying odor of
leather and sweat. Colorfully woven tapestries hung from the walls, and on a
frame to one side stood a superb shield and scabbardcd sword, a helmet chased
with silver and gold, and a breastplate on which the design of a bull’s head
was worked in bas-relief. A table and chairs of ingenious design stood at the
center, their frames constructed in a manner that allowed them to be folded for
traveling, on the table a silver jug and several cups of bone.

           
“Sit,” Cord said bluntly and clapped
his hands.

           
A red-haired woman appeared from
behind a curtain, her eyes curious as she glanced at the visitors, downcast as
she turned to the Ulan, Cord said something to her and she disappeared,
returning moments later accompanied by two other females carrying food.

           
The repast was set on the table and
the women vanished again. The three Kingdomers shed their heavy furs and
followed the Ulan’s suggestion that they eat.

           
“Kalar says that the cat hailed
you.” The Drott addressed himself to Tepshen Lahl, who merely nodded, grunting
an affirmative.

           
“I might have killed you else,” the
Ulan remarked negligently.

           
“You might have tried,” returned the
kyo, eliciting an appreciative snort of laughter from the barbarian,

           
“He is your champion?” This to
Kedryn, who nodded in turn and said, “And my friend.”

           
“And she,” Cord looked
appreciatively at Wynett, “is your woman.”

           
“My eyes,” Kedryn said, feeling
Wynett’s grip on his hand tighten. “She is a holy woman of the Kingdoms,
devoted to the Lady.”

           
“This is Ashar’s domain,” Cord
grunted, “Though I respect the blue-robed ones. How came you here, and why?”

           
His eyes were set deep beneath
craggy brows and as they fixed on Kedryn’s face they sparked with a curious
light.

           
Kedryn licked his fingers clean and
said, “We came through the
Fedyn
Pass
, which closed upon us killing many of our
companions. We come to regain my sight, which was taken by the ensorcelled
blade of the warrior sent against me by the Messenger

           
Cord’s right hand shaped the
three-fingered gesture of warding; his left scratched in his beard. He said,
“The dead are sacrifice to Ashar, I think—a toll on your passing. The Messenger
deserted us at the Lozin Gate and would not aid you were he here.”

           
“I seek the shade of his man,”
Kedryn replied. “I would enter the spirit world to ask his quadi to return that
which he took.”

           
Cord’s eyes grew wider and his hand
ceased its burrowing. For long moments he stared at Kedryn as he might stare at
one gone mad. Then he said slowly, “That is a most perilous venture.”

           
“Nonetheless I would chance it,”
Kedryn said, more calmly than he felt now that the reality approached so much
closer. “I have spoken with a most holy woman of our land and she has told me I
must do this, accompanied by the Sister Wynett.”

           
Cord’s dark gaze turned to Wynett.
“Ashar is mighty in the netherworld, and Ashar has little love for your kind.
Would you risk that?”