The Revenants (32 page)
Authors: Sheri S. Tepper
Sowsie said, ‘If they carve that stone, it will keep them busy for a million years. You make a good prophet, Thewson.’
‘Not I,’ he said enigmatically. Then, in response to her puzzled look. ‘It was not I who spoke. I carry messages. I do not know when it is I will need to speak them.’
Days 14-24, Month of Thaw
They lurked within the screen of the forest, skulked from grove to grove across the high slopes of the Savus Mountains, sneaked and hid throughout the following days. Below them, on the wide river plain of the Sals, stinking wagon trains were almost continuous, whipped southward by black robes, leaving a foul smell and deep ruts where they passed. The black robes who drove the wagons south seemed to have no thought of interference. There were no guards with the trains, no outriders, no scouts. Daingol said once that he doubted the drivers would pursue them even if they were seen, but none of them wished to take the chance. Adding to their disquiet was Thewson’s quiet statement that the dog king was following them. ‘Jackal quick in the trees, that one. Easy to kill, but better not. Waos. We wait.’
So they waited. The shadow behind them came no nearer, contenting itself with following them as they went among the trees to the constant accompaniment of jingling harness and creaking wagons down along the river. The Sals gleamed saffron and orange in the light of the rising sun, murmuring gently and offering up fish to Lain-achor, who sneaked down between wagon trains to spear them from the bank, his dagger bound to a peeled sapling. Thewson tried it with his spear, giving up in disgust when the fishes flicked away unharmed. He complained to Jasmine, ‘The water twists my sight.’ She was sorry and combed his hair for him to comfort him, making a long job of it in the evening firelight while the others pretended not to notice.
After seven days of this hiding and creeping, they drew almost even with the white bulk of the Palonhodh which loomed away to the east. Their route drew away from the river, into the hills which bordered Sorgen to the north and thence into the mountains which lay at the southern edge of the Rochagam D’Zunabat. To the west lay the city of Enterling, beyond it the mysteries of Owbel Bay. To the east lay Soolenter and before them the high pass which debouched into a long plateau from which the trail led down to the east along the final cliffs of the Savus Range. There were three days of climbing but no more skulking. The wagons could not climb the pass and were forced far to the west on the easier roads. At last they stared down to the north where the sparkle of the River Nils gleamed among clustered cities and towns. The plain of the Axe King was wide, the mountains at its northern edge barely showing on the horizon. It was interrupted here and there by raised islands, covered with forest, seeming afloat on the great sea of grass.
‘They don’t look natural,’ said Jasmine. ‘They look as though they had been built there.’
Sowsie threw one leg across the horse’s neck, nodded toward the forested hillocks. ‘Some say they were built in the time of Sud-Akwith’s sires. Some say they are burial mounds, built here upon the plain to house the tombs of ancient times, long before Tar-Akwith. It may be some were built and some are natural, for some have springs bubbling upon them. Between us and the river is such a one. If we ride steadily, we may camp there tonight.’
Their trail wound down the precipitous slope to the grasslands below. Where a forested canyon crossed the trail they stopped to eat a noon meal beside a chattering stream and trees which half hid themselves in a haze of spring green. The leaves wereino larger than a mouse’s ear. Thewson and Jasmine wandered away from the others, up the stream, smelling fresh herbs and the fragrance of flowers. Suddenly he laid his huge hand upon her arm, directing her gaze toward the base of a gnarled tree. There, set about with leaves and tendrils, a woebegone face peered at them from beneath the roots, so nearly the color of the tree that it might have grown there through the seasons. They did not expect it to speak. When it did so, in accents of civilized reproach, both were startled.
‘A great noise you are making, large ones. A fine noise, some might say, all militant and furious with clopping horses and creaking leather and the tick, tick, tick of your spear on the branches above. Still, there are those who must sleep when the sun is up in order to live when the sun is down. It would be a kindness to walk softly in green silences. Alas, a kindness is seldom encountered in these latter days.’
Thewson merely stared, dumb with astonishment, but Jasmine went forward curiously. ‘What strange thing is this? A talking turnip?’
‘Oh, that is unkind.’ The small creature disentangled itself from among the leaves to stand forward, miniature and yet unmistakably human, clad in tatters of brown and grey which blended with the bark of the tree as might the skin of a lizard or the wing of a moth. ‘You might have said “rose,” or “lily.” Something graceful. Why “turnip”?’
‘What is this?’ wondered Thewson. ‘Is this uno-li, little man? Or ulum-li, little god, spirit of this place?’
‘Oh, my dear sir, we are the freakery of Yenner-po-tau which is downriver. We are the oddities of Po-Bau, beneath you on the plain. We are the cast outs, the cast offs, the Separated ones, one might say. When the Gahlians came, not long since, pounding on their great gongs and making their horrid noise, it was to one purpose – the casting out of those unlike the others. Can one doubt we are unlike? It was a thing generally understood, indeed, enjoyed by many. I like your word, uno-li. Yes. Little men. Little women, too, of course.’
‘There are more of you?’ asked Jasmine.
‘Not as many as one would wish,’ the little man said sadly. ‘Five persons do not make a society, no matter how fond they are of one another. There are five, myself, who am named Po-Bee, and there is Doh-ti, who is my friend. Then there is Barstable Gumsuch, for he insists upon keeping that name which he was given first in the cacaloquious purlieus about the River Wayle, far to the north. Then luckily, there are Mum-lil and Hanna-lil, womenfolk of our kind.’
‘All one family?’ Jasmine said, puzzled.
‘Oh, no. Rather the offspring of ordinary folk, gathered together by Gaffer Gumsuch for comfort and mutual companionship. There have always been little people born from time to time along the River Nils. We had families of big folk. I was very fond of mine.’ He fell into sad and musing silence.
‘The Gahlians did not try to kill you?’ asked Thewson. ‘We know that they sometimes kill those cast out.’
‘Oh, they might have got to it, in time,’ said Po-Bee. ‘Though they would have had trouble finding us. We had some warning. Even our families do not know where we are, lest they be forced to say. We are small, hidden, difficult to see unless we wish it. Still, we must have food, and if we plant fields, the Gahlians could find them. We have not had to face that yet. Our kin still leave food along the edge of the forest for us. And we have met others … who might help us in a pinch.’
‘You have not been here long.’
‘Some days. I fear we have lost count. Something won-drously mighty must have happened in the world, for the Gahlians began to swarm like ants. When? Midwinter time. Yenner-po-tau fell first, so we brought the Gaffer, Doh-ti, and Mum-lil from there. Then, only a little time later, they came to Pau-bee, but by that time we had searched out our refuge. Such as it is, and if the bear that owned it does not return untimely. We came away of our own will, hot wanting harm to come to our kin. Some others were sent out less willingly.’
‘Then you have not met a full winter yet,’ said Thewson. ‘Not a full winter.’
‘No, great sir. Nor do we consider that eventuality with pleasure. Still, it is warm at the roots of the trees, and there are furry brothers of the wood who manage one way or another.’
They remained in confrontation, the tiny man with his head cocked, regarding them in friendly caution, the mighty warrior leaning on his spear, considering the other with wonder and respect. Finally, Thewson grunted, ‘Will you take food with us?’
‘I assume that the invitation, though extended in brief and laconic terms, is intended to include those others of my people who might wish to accept your kindness?’
Thewson did not follow this at all, but Jasmine laughed. ‘Indeed, Master Po-Bee. To you and all your kind, welcome.’
If the others of the company were shocked or surprised, they hid it well. Only a flaring of nostrils betrayed Lain-achor, a brief widening of eyes the others, as Thewson entered their clearing followed by five small people, Jasmine close behind them. Po-Bee came first, with Hanna-lil on his arm, dusting a rock with his kerchief before seating her ceremoniously. Doh-ti and Mum-lil came hand in hand, nervously, keeping a way open between the larger people and the forest edge. Barstable Gumsuch came last, stumping along with his cane, wrinkled face peering upward at their staring faces, muttering, ‘Well, well. We are not such strange sights as that. Well, who is it, now? People from the Choir of Gerenhodh, they say. I have been to Gerenhodh, and have met members of other Choirs, too. Well, what have we to drink?’
They drank together, marvelling at the old man’s capacity, leaning across their small fire to hear the stories told by the smaller people. Doh-ti, the tallest of them, stood no higher than Thewson’s knee, but he could out-talk the warrior, twenty words for one. Barstable Gumsuch could out-talk them all.
Barstable Gumsuch had been born near Bywayle, a townlet in the Aresfales, to a stolidly unimaginative family who refused for many months to believe what had happened to them. The people of Aresfale did not hold with the number nonsense current in Anisfale, so Barstable’s oddness was not laid to his birth order in the family. None suffered on his account, and at last his parents had to admit that Barstable was a very tiny person who would likely never get much bigger. Full grown he stood as tall as his father’s boots and weighed no more than the large housecat with whom he was at some pains to live in friendship as it had the unmistakable advantage in natural weaponry. He was fortunate that the family considered him more a being of wonderment than an occasion for shame, but it was still an unenviable life to be so small. Life in the Fales was synonymous with sheep. No sheep, no life at all, no mutton, no wool, no milk, no cheese. Barstable was not large enough to spin the heavy yarn of the Fales in any quantity, not strong enough to milk or to shear, not massive enough to herd, not so quick or clamorous as the dogs, not really very useful. Or so, at least, he told them.
He became an amusement, a little being which did not eat all that much, who could be set on a table at weddings and feasts to make little speeches and sing little songs. More out of boredom than anything else, he learned to read through the kindness of a local oracle who had not much else to do. He grew to like long words and flowery language, which set him apart still further from the society of the shepherds.
When he was seventeen, he left the Fales, leaving no message behind. They would have thought it likely he had been eaten by a fox or taken by an owl, and they might have mourned a little. Actually, he had stowed away in the back of a peddler’s wagon, not disclosing himself until the peddler was far along the trail toward Seathe and the River Lazentien. He offered his services to the peddler, very sensibly, in gathering crowds around the wagon, and the peddler accepted the offer. It worked to their mutual advantage for many years.
Barstable found a little wife in Jowr and lived with her happily for some decades. They were not blessed with children of their own, but now and again they took up a littling like themselves, raised it and settled it in some part of the known world. In Pau-bee, during one winter of exceptional cold and fevers, his wife had died. Barstable lost heart for moving then. Instead, he stayed in Pau-bee, just upriver from Yenner-po-tau, among the fragile people of the Nils, feeling as at home in that place as he had ever felt. In Pau-bee, he found Po-Bee, and in Yenner-po-tau he found Doh-ti, and also Hanna-lil, and later he found Mum-lil in the hamlet of Lau-Bom. They called him Gaffer Gumsuch, and the five of them lived mostly together in a house cut to their size, doing work of delicacy and great craftsmanship. They became weavers of repute, and Bar-stable almost forgot the language of the Fales to become one of the people of Po-Bau, until the Gahlians came.
‘And now we are here,’ he concluded. ‘With Mum-lil expecting a child, living in a bear’s house, wondering what is to become of the world.’
By common consent the larger people did not talk of moving on that afternoon. Instead, they sat about, talking with what Thewson insisted on calling the unuzh-li. Jasmine asked to see where they had been living.
It was a dry, sandy cavern beneath the kneed-up roots of the tree, fringed above with fine, hairy rootlets and lighted by tunnels which angled sunwards. Jasmine could get in without difficulty, but she had to crouch against the wall while she peered with curiosity at the finely woven rugs which covered the floor, at the loom which made a quiet clacketa-clacketa under Hanna-lil’s hands.
‘This is a rabbity burrow, Gaffer.’
‘It’s dry,’ he said. ‘Dry and reasonable for warmth. We got the loom in piece by piece, and we don’t complain.’
‘We could take the loom,’ she said. ‘Pack it on one of the horses. If you’d come with us.’
‘Likely we’re settled here.’
Jasmine fell into an old accent. ‘Come winter wind howl, old’un, thy bones will cry cold.’
‘Not going to be warmer where you’re going.’
‘No warmer, na, but safer. What do if Gahlians come lookin’?’
‘’Sa problem,’ he admitted, sucking at his teeth. ‘Wouldn’t like being cut about by the Gahlians. Wouldn’t like to think of Mum-lil bein’ cut about.’
Jasmine straightened herself. ‘Thewson is very strong. The men with us are woodswise. Chances are that we will get on north and find what we are looking for without any trouble. With us, you would all have a good chance.’