The Revenants (42 page)

The second wagon moved off, and the third, then the others one by one in a long chain. Once a wagon slowed, stopped, the horses standing with heads down, legs splayed, the driver slumped forward. Leona rode forward, shook the man awake silently, stared deep into his face with eyes suddenly amber and gleaming like the eyes of a fierce bird. Gulping, he rode on and did not stop again.

Leona and Bombaroba were last, the boy seated in front of her on the low saddle, Mimo and Werem quiet at the horse’s flanks. Around them the air shivered in constant motion; beneath them the earth twitched like the skin of a horse beneath a tickling fly. On the slope the domes glittered in wan sunlight, constantly seeming to turn as though eyes moved along the line of wagons. Leona stared but could see no movement. No, no motion could be seen, but she did not doubt for a moment that it took place. They were being watched in some way she could not define or describe. Over her shoulder she peered to see a dome appear in the swale behind them, earth crumbling damply at its base. It had not moved there, nor risen into place. It was simply there, and it was not alone. They could not return this way.

Hours seemed to pass, and yet the sun had hardly moved in the wide sky when they came from between the last of the watching stones onto the open prairie. Behind them a cloud of dust rose to hang in still air, as though the earth trembled. Wordless, they took the wrappings from wheels and hooves, untied links of harness, moved eastward to regain the line they had left. Once more the train jingled and creaked; faces became faces again; colours took their usual brilliance. Leona broke off a leaf and smelled the sharp fragrance. Still, no one spoke, no one sang. Miles went behind them without sound except of the wagons.

At last, Bombaroba whispered from between her arms, ‘Lady, were they set there to keep us out?’

Leona spoke softly. To keep us out? Or let us through? To keep out those who come after us? Or to keep us in once we are here? Or to do some other thing, Bomba? It is a hard question to answer. I think they had nothing to do with us – not yet. I think they were merely
there
, as a nest of serpents might be, or a waterfall, a thing to get safely by.’

‘I do not think the little animals will come back.’

‘No, Bomba. Nor do I.’

The scouts reported that the stone hummocks stayed behind them, but the same distance behind, keeping pace with the train.

They sweated beneath the sun of the southland, drawing ever nearer to the mountains, their way crossed by streamlets born in the snows of those mountains, the land rising. They walked to spare the horses, seeing to the east the great part of the south lying far below between the Unnamed River and the River of Hanar, flat and green as a meadow, dotted with copses of tall, black trees, falling away toward the Concealment. Scouts climbed tall pinnacles to report that the troop which had followed them from the River Del followed them still and that the stone hummocks lay a day’s journey to their rear. Whatever they might do, they could not return. Voices were raised in fear.

‘We did not plan to return,’ Leona told them coldly. ‘Not until we had reached the safety of the ancient city, the place of refuge. To be driven into refuge makes us think, of course, that our flight may be the will of others. Still, it was decided to go there by people of wisdom. Shall we panic now and drive witlessly away to the east, coming to bay at last between those behind us and the Concealment?’

She left them to their disenchanted murmuring. She overheard Bombaroba haranguing groups of children, Eriden lecturing the scouts, some of the older Sisters declaiming courage and resolution. By morning the mood of the train had solidified once more into calm and courage. They went on. They had travelled throughout the month of wings returning and into that month called ‘flowers’ or ‘growth.’ Thirty days more would bring them to midsummer time, right through the month of sowing. Surely before that time they would come to Orena.

Leona thought of changing, of going up into the high air above the mountains to see exactly what was before them, to spy out the way. Something warned her against it. Whenever her thoughts turned that way, some better part of wisdom councelled patience. She had to breathe deeply to fight the urge to find out. But no, she would not take up talons against whatever pursued them or the wings of the gryphon to lift her from this earthbound caravan. There might have been a danger aloft which she could not see but which something innermost warned her against. She had lived her whole life with these inner omens, too long to disregard them now, but they angered her and she chafed against them.

Day by day went by, until the month of sowing had come and nine days of it past when they emerged from a narrow passage betvtfeen two hills to find themselves at the beginning of a hard-surfaced road. The road simply began where they were, marked only by a wayside shrine to the Powers and a tall pole which carried the quartite bannerette, green, blue, red, and white. In the shrine stood a bell, green with age, and a leatherbound striker hung on chains. It was Eriden who struck it to send the soft, clamorous echoes booming away down the valley only to return once more augmented by wild trumpet sounds and a gentle thunder as of distant drums.

‘We have come to Orena, haven’t we, Lady?’ Bombaroba looked at her with renewed hope. ‘Some of the little ones should be washed so that people won’t think we are savages.’ He was off about his self-imposed duties in that moment. Leona merely sat upon her horse staring away down the road to the place where it plunged into and through the distant cliff beside glittering gates. There was no menace there, the menace was behind them, and yet…. If all had fled here and there were no way out except the way they had come…. Smiling ruefully she rodeon.

The road led south, straight as a hawk’s stoop, to the glittering gates. On either side the cliffs drew in, crowned with battlements and a sparkle of armour. The gates, barely wider than the wagons, went through tunnels which opened above into spaces full of engines of defense and a scurry of purposeful activity. There were three sets of tunnels and gates, a seemingly endless series of barriers before they came at last into the late sunlight of the valley escorted by a troop of guards who had met them upon the road.

These men and women had ridden up and down the train, examining each wagon, exchanging a few bantering words with the children, otherwise laconic. Their leader stayed at the head of the column, saluting Leona as from one warrior to another while begging her indulgence in following him. To her questions he replied with noncommittal words, inconsequential niceties. When they came through the final barrier, he dismounted and offered his hand, a courtesy which she disdained.

‘You were not surprised at our arrival,’ she said. ‘Were we expected?’

He gestured toward the pinnacles to the north, high above the valley. ‘You were seen many days ago, Lady. Those of the Sisterhoods already within the stronghold have told us who you are and whence you come. Your train is the last.’

‘The way behind us is closed?’

‘To any train like yours, so we believe. Would it were closed to all others as well.’

‘Then we are shut in.’

‘Surrounded, Lady. Orena is very old, very strong, hidden among its precipices. It has never been conquered. Neither has it ever been surrounded, until now.’

‘What forces are gathered against us?’

‘We will show you presently, Lady. My name is Hazliah, and I give you the welcome of the city. A place has been made ready for you, and the Sisters and children will be welcomed by their kindred.’

He mounted again, courteously, to accompany them, waiting patiently while the children were gathered together, counted, and placed in the wagons. The stony way through which they had come opened out into the greater valley, a day’s hard march wide, four days’ march ong, surrounded by cliffs two hundred man heights high or more. Before them it shone in spring green, fields on fields of emerald and early gold with a far shadow of blue flaxflower reflecting the sky against the cliffs. Rivers ran through the valley and away to the west where, Hazliah told them, they ran out through a water fortress and away to the southern seas. Beside the largest of the rivers, away to the west, stood Orena, white as alabaster, flushed pink in the evening glow, flags snapping from every tower and light flashing from many domes.

Where the stone-floored crevasse in which they stood opened into the valley, a wooden bridge crossed a chasm. Hazliah urged them forward. ‘The bridge will be raised at the evening bells, Lady. If we do not wish sparse rations and a cold bed, let us ride.’

They crossed the bridge, hollow clopping and creak of wagon, a distant ringing of bells sweet in the west, the bridge rising behind them to stand like a huge gravemarker upon the road. Leona shivered. ‘A wide grave, and lovely,’ she said to herself. ‘But if one may not get out, a grave nonetheless.’ She gestured Bombaroba forward to ride with her, needing the feel of something familiar beside her. ‘Even thou, Leona,’ she thought of this need. ‘Even thou.’

‘Do you see they all wear beads, Lady?’ the boy asked. ‘The soldiers say all their life can be read in their beads. The one in the middle of their belt is a birth-bead, in five parts, one for each parent. How may they have five parents, Lady? I have been told there are only two. The red beads are for learning, and they must have three of those, Lady, or they may not be allowed to be adults.’

‘You have learned a lot in such a short ride.’

‘I ask a lot of questions,’ he said comfortably. ‘I always do. The soldier teased me – I think. He said that since I do not have any red beads, they will not let me go about the city. Is that true?’

‘We will find out. I do not have red beads either, you see.’

‘Oh, of course. None of us do. Perhaps they will keep us all locked up in one place.’ He sounded unworried about this, and Leona smiled.

There were many small dwellings and hamlets in the valley, walled and protected as though each might be a minor fortress. In the city walls the gates were accommodating, though strongly guarded, with a welcoming host of Sisters just inside to babble welcomes and lead the newcomers away to long barracks which smelled of cooking. Soon there were only three of them left, Leona leaning against her horse with Bombaroba shifting impatiently at her side, and Hazliah politely still. Bombaroba was very hungry. She patted him, gesturing him away toward the food smells. She did not want to go into the lighted buildings, did not want to chat and greet and learn the names and habits of a thousand more people, a hundred more, even ten more. Above her the sky began to pimple with stars. Hazliah still waited.

‘Will you come with me, Lady? There is a small room in the near tower where you will find wine, food, a fire.’

‘Maps,’ she said abstractedly. ‘Charts of this region …’

‘If you like.’

She assented without speaking. Yes. A small room in which one might be very still for a time, a time without speaking or making any decision. Hazliah guided her with small gestures, a finger movement, a glance. Suddenly she was aware that he was anticipating her every move.

‘You can read my mind!’ she accused.

‘No. Only your feelings, Lady. Because we are kindred, you and I.’ He did not explain, and she did not really wonder at that remark until later. Then it gave her something to think about in the long night hours as she lay upon her narrow bed, watching the circling of the stars, listening to the dogs’ breathing and her own.

Hazliah returned in the morning, bringing with him a woman who introduced herself as Systrys, daughter of Ephraim the Archivist.

‘I am told you travelled with one who knew Ephraim,’ she said. ‘One who knew Nathan, sent long ago to bring Ephraim home. I have come to learn what I can of them, for Ephraim was a parent to me and Nathan was a friend.’

They breakfasted while Leona tried to recall all Jaer had said about Ephraim and Nathan. Closely questioned, she tried to remember bits and pieces from Jaer’s book, confessing at last, ‘I heard Jaer read from it; Medlo mock it; Terascouros question it; but I paid little attention.’ When she had said all she could, Systrys wiped tears from her cheeks and put her notebook away.

‘Something of what you say about this book strikes memory, Leona of Anisfale. I think it is the reference to the Girdle of Binding. I remember that; remember Ephraim saying something to me about it, years – oh, how many years ago. I will seek in the archives for it. If I find it, I will bring it to you. Until then, thank you for your words about my parent. I will set a light in the Temple in his memory, and one for Nathan as well.’

When she had gone, Hazliah said, ‘She is a fine archivist, she was a fine student. Ephraim taught her for many years before he left Orena, and she mourns him. As we may all be mourned if we do not see to our defences.’

Leona tried to look neither startled nor amazed when Hazliah took her to the cliffs in a little wagon which moved itself, which clicked and hummed through a long, lighted tunnel; which Hazliah called a car. ‘Very old,’ he said. ‘Built by the builders of the city itself in the time of the wizards.’

On the cliff he showed her still other devices of the ancients, machines which peered through fog or darkness, machines which heard what was said at great distances, weapons which spat darts of light. Peering through these devices they could see how the stony hummocks had invaded all the canyon floors and level lands to the north. Above, on the more precipitous slopes, the devices showed bulky shadows which seemed to bleed from one shape to another as they stumbled toward the heights. And on the heights, not far from the ramparts in which they stood, clots of Gahlians in company with rearing monstrosities moved toward the walls. These creatures flung themselves upward to show endless pairs of pincer feet beneath nightmare jaws, voracious and deadly.

‘They do not attack the black robes who have brought them,’ said Hazliah. ‘We do not know why.’

All along the ramparts were these horrors, hummocks, shadows, monsters, hemming them in, pressing closer to the walls with every hour.