Silent Hall (9 page)

T
he Gallant Ones
arrived at noon the next day. The pair of brothers who had taken the village sheep out to pasture came running back to Silent Hall, throwing themselves frantically against the gate until Psander let them in.

“They've found us!” they gasped, their eyes wild. “They're here! The Gallant Ones have come!”

The tall, manly image of Psander only nodded. “Tell everyone to stay inside,” she commanded, in her mask's powerful baritone. “I'll deal with the Gallant Ones.”

She turned to the islanders. “Come with me.”

They followed the wizard into her tower and up a long flight of steps to the high window that overlooked the gate. The Gallant Ones had nearly reached that gate by now, and the sight of them was almost blinding. Thirty breastplates of polished bronze made for an eye-watering glare, as did the swords and spears and polished shields that the men were carrying. Though their hair was gray, the Gallant Ones bristled with weaponry. Their leader raised his fist and the company stopped, their heads tilting up toward the window.

“Psander!” the leader cried. Narky couldn't tell if he was upset or amused. “I see you've taken in some guests!”

“I have,” Psander answered. “But forgive me, Your Highness, I have no time for chatter. I hope your horses are well rested. I need something from you.”

There was a rumble of anger from the company, but the prince of the Gallant Ones silenced it with a gesture.

“You always do,” he said. “I think it's about time you held up your end, Psander. When will Atuna be mine?”

The wizard laughed a chilly, calculated laugh that ended almost as abruptly as it had begun. “You've hardly done anything for me. Certainly nothing to warrant my giving you the greatest city in the world. What have you done, Tana? An errand here and there? For this you want Atuna? That hardly sounds like a fair exchange.”

“What sounds fair to you, wizard?” the prince spat.

Psander's tall form folded its arms. “The Boar of Hagardis.”

There was another angry ripple from the company below. “The great boar sacred to Magor?” someone said. “The beast has razed whole villages!”

“It has,” Psander replied, “as have the armies of Atuna. If you want my help retaking Atun's city, bring me Magor's sacred beast.”

“We may as well storm the city ourselves,” grumbled one of Tana's men, loud enough that Narky had no trouble hearing him over the snorting horses. “Magor is a vengeful God.”

The grizzled old prince turned on him. “And am I not vengeful?” he asked, his voice dangerous. “Am I not a son of kings, a son of Atun? Let Magor fear us as He fears the burning sun.”

He turned back toward the window. “How can I know that you will keep your faith with us, wizard?”

Psander smiled and shrugged.

“I am sending these youngsters to help you,” the wizard said. “Perhaps you have heard of the calamity that befell Tarphae? These are the island's sole survivors. As you ought to know, survivors interest me. These ones are young, but also very talented. They may prove useful to you. Either way, I will be glad to see them returned unharmed.”

Prince Tana frowned, but then he gestured for the islanders to join him. It dawned on Narky that Hunter had been right: the Gallant Ones needed no help in hunting the boar. But of course, Psander had not recruited the islanders because she needed more huntsmen. She was giving them away as hostages.

The journey was extremely unpleasant. The Gallant Ones did not take well to having tagalongs. Even during the hour of rest, when they reined in their horses and found a shady spot to lie down in, still they made a show of being burdened by their new company. They sneered at the very suggestion that the islanders could be of use to them, and laughed openly when they realized that only Hunter was armed. The contempt with which they looked at Narky and the others was unmistakable. He thought they might look at him differently if he told them he had killed a man, but he stayed silent. Maybe the Gallant Ones would be impressed by that sort of thing, but the other islanders would not. And, as Bandu would have put it, the islanders were his pack now.

Narky had never been part of a pack before, and it felt surprisingly good. The others did not always seem to like Narky, but they had dragged his near-lifeless body out of the forest and stayed with him during his recovery. They had helped him build his altar, and Phaedra was even trying to help him learn what Ravennis wanted from him. And they did not call him the Coward's Son.

It was funny: Narky had always assumed that Hunter would assert his dominance at some point. He had misjudged Hunter, he could see it now. Hunter was not a leader, any more than he was a boisterous drink-buyer. It was the others – the girls especially, but even Criton and Narky – who pulled Hunter along with them and decided where to go and what to do. His only purpose, apparently, was to protect them from danger. Narky was glad enough of that. Gods knew, they could use his protection.

The islanders each rode behind a Gallant One during their journey, despite the several riderless packhorses that trailed along behind them. Apparently, the Gallant Ones did not want to risk letting their hostages ride their own horses. This suited the islanders just fine, though. Among them, only Hunter and Phaedra knew how to ride.

Narky spent the first day riding behind Hearthman Charos, who was curt and scornful throughout. Most of these men were in their sixties, but they carried their arms with the confidence of those whose destiny was to conquer. Exiled from their homes for the last forty years, they dreamed not of reconciliation but of power. They called Tana their King Betrayed, and frequently began sentences with, “When we retake Atuna…”

After the first few days, Narky rode with Hearthman Tachil, who was friendlier. He asked about the circumstances of Narky's flight from Tarphae, and despite Narky's evasions, seemed to understand all too well.

“You're not so different from the way I was, when I was young,” he said. “Not so different at all.”

Narky shrugged. “I guess your skin has changed colors since then.”

The Atunaean chuckled. “You're funny,” he said.

When they stopped to let their horses rest, Hearthman Tachil showed Narky how to plant a spear in the ground so that the weapon would not be wrenched out of his hands when the boar ran into it. The spear was very long.

“If the Boar of Hagardis is as big as they say it is,” Tachil warned him, “you'll need every inch.”

“We don't have enough of those to go round,” Hearthman Charos interrupted. “He'll have to make do with a halfspear or a crossbow.”

When the Gallant Ones raised their tents at night, they left only one for the islanders to share. Narky expected Phaedra, at least, to object to this arrangement, but she did not. Apparently she did not feel safe here without Hunter and Criton's constant protection.

Neither the boys nor Phaedra undressed much at night, despite the warm southern wind. Hunter took off his armor, at least, but he also cautiously unsheathed his sword and slept with his hand resting on its pommel. It was Bandu who embarrassed them all by stripping completely naked and stretching out comfortably in the night heat.

Hunter escaped the situation by turning his head the other way and dropping off almost immediately, but Narky and Criton had a harder time of it. Even in the dark, with only the dim reddish glow of the Gallant Ones' bonfire flickering through the tent walls, enough could be seen to keep them lying rigidly in their places, awake and miserable. What made it even more maddening was that Phaedra took it upon herself to guard Bandu's nonexistent modesty by staring at Narky and Criton, ready to pounce if she saw them looking Bandu's way. When it came down to it, all Narky really saw was a blurred skinny figure blending into the dark ground. But his imagination supplied the rest.

Narky did not awaken early enough to see any more. When he woke up, drenched in sweat from sleeping in his clothes, only Criton was still inside the tent. Criton certainly looked tired, but Narky noticed enviously that he was also perfectly dry. The night's heat probably hadn't bothered him at all, the reptilian bastard.

To Phaedra's consternation – but to nobody's surprise – the process repeated itself every night for the rest of the week. Even during the daylight hours, it was hard not to think of Bandu's casual nakedness every time Narky looked at her. It was as if she was imbued with some new, special power, and she wouldn't even acknowledge it. Hunter politely didn't acknowledge it either, but at least Criton felt it, to judge from the enlightened and respectful look on his face. Narky didn't feel the same way about it at all. It felt like Bandu had something over him now, and he hated her for it. Between the lack of sleep, the miserable climate, and the depressing feeling that he was somehow missing an enormous opportunity, he thought it was only a matter of time before he went insane.

After a week of quiet resentment, the Boar of Hagardis finally gave him something else to think about. They came upon a ransacked hamlet, its few houses destroyed and the residents lying gored and feasted upon, partially by the boar and partially by the crows and vultures that had come by later. There were many of these still about, and the sight of them filled Narky with dread. They were watching him as they fed on their ghoulish meal. Not just looking,
watching
.

The Gallant Ones shooed the birds off – heavens forgive them – and went about trying to make sense of the tracks. Bandu studied the bodies instead.

“Four days maybe,” Narky heard her say to Hunter. “Not safe.”

Not safe for what?
he wondered moodily.
Cannibalism?

The boar's tracks were hardly fresh, but they were still easy enough to spot. Deep cloven hoofmarks the size of Hunter's boots could be seen everywhere, from the ground on either side of a broken wall to the stomped-in ribcages of the dead villagers. Prince Tana and the Gallant Ones looked at each other warily, and even Hunter seemed unsure of himself after seeing those marks. Criton, however, looked furious.

“This boar is sacred to Magor,” he spat, speaking to no one in particular. His voice carried his condemnation.

“We can't do this,” Narky whispered to Phaedra. “Even if we killed the thing – which we can't, by the way – Magor would carve us to pieces. A God who holds this monster sacred is not as merciful as Ravennis.”

Phaedra shook her head. “We were never on Magor's good side,” she said. “He might even hate us personally. The robbers on the way to the Crossroads were worshippers of His. You're right that killing the Boar of Hagardis is going to get His attention, but I don't see what choice we have. The Gallant Ones won't let us go until the boar is dead, and besides, Criton wouldn't turn back even if he could. Magor's high priest killed his family.”

“But you saw what happened to me!” Narky pointed to his chest, where the burn mark lay concealed beneath his clothing. “I insulted Ravennis – not on purpose, mind you – and I got this, even
after
he spared me! And
I
didn't go killing any sacred animals!”

Phaedra looked worried, yes, but not nearly worried enough. She could not understand; nobody could understand without feeling that divine anger pointed at them, focused and deadly.

“The Boar of Hagardis is one of Magor's fingers,” she said, definitely less sure of herself than she pretended to be. “Yes, it has Magor's attention, but if we cut off the finger, He should also be weakened for a time. Another God could take advantage of that weakness, and a God who was in conflict with Magor might protect us just to spite Him. They must be able fend each other off, because some Gods have been in conflict for generations without ever smiting each other's followers personally.”

Narky wanted to object again, but before he could, Tana made a gesture and the Gallant Ones closed around them all. “We ride on from here,” the princeling said. “If you hunt the boar with us, you take weapons and stand alongside us. Then if the boar kills you, you do not die as cowards and children.”

Despite the ‘ifs,' there was no ‘if' in his tone of voice. Tana expected them to die, and Narky couldn't really disagree. But at least the Gallant Ones respected them enough to give them weapons.

Bandu moved first, holding her hand palm up. Tana nodded, and one of his hearthmen placed a long knife there. Criton accepted a bow, though Narky doubted he would ever use it. Would he be able to keep up the pretense of normality if and when the boar came at him? His savage claws seemed like a much more likely weapon, considering the look on his face. Hearthman Tachil offered a bow to Narky too, but Narky shook his head.

“I will not take a coward's weapon.”

They gave him a spear instead.

Just as Hearthman Charos had suggested, Narky did not get a spear the same length as the others. He was given a halfspear. A boar the size of a bull would find it no impediment, but what could he do? Maybe there would be an opportunity to flee from the Gallant Ones when they met the boar. If they chased him down afterwards, a halfspear might come in handy.

He hoped an opportunity for escape would arise. If they all faced the boar, only two things could happen: either they would die, or the Gallant Ones would bring them back to Psander. And once they were in Psander's power again, Narky suspected that he would never be free.

Gods damn that Psander! Narky had been on a course of redemption, ready to leave his old life behind and become a real, worthwhile person. He was planning to stay out of trouble, at long last. Then Psander had read his past, and she had seen everything. He wished they didn't have to go back to her. He wished she would die. There was nothing like blackmail to turn you ugly again.

It was not just this boar; that was what worried Narky most. If it had just been that, Psander would have focused her attention on the combatants. The Tarphaean boys might at least be useful during the hunt, besides making for good hostages. But if that were all she needed, then why bribe Phaedra? The Gallant Ones certainly wouldn't have cared if they had been given only three or four hostages instead of five. Narky suspected that the real reason Psander had sent them all together was that she wanted to get all five of the islanders accustomed to serving her.