The Various (11 page)

‘Well, I’ve ztood and listened to some talk,’ began Isak, not even bothering to acknowledge the Queen, ‘ ’bout the zo-called dangers of venturing on to Gorji land. What do ’ee think
we
do? An’ almost every night too! We’m out there, clottin’ for eels, settin’ our traps an’ such, while you’m all still abed. We’m creeping through ditches, hidin’ in the withies when the cutters be almost treadin’ on our toes as we try to get home of a morning. We knows the Gorji by
name
, half of ’em! I could zay what they had for
breakfast
, by the stink of ’em! I tell ’ee all this – thee who hasn’t left this vorest in a hundred fourseasons, if ’ee be lookin’ to zend out a party on a
horse
-hunt, then it might as well be
we
. ’Cause we’m out there already!’ And Isak huffed his way back to the line of the Wisp, to be met with the approval of his fellows: ‘Well said, Isak.’ ‘That told ’em!’

And it was true. The Wisp, who had lived off the wetlands for as long as could be remembered, continued to work it still – though whereas once it had been their home, they now visited the nearby rhynes and ditches only by night, setting their eel-traps and night lines, and retreating to the safety of the forest by day. The other tribes, by contrast, had set no foot upon Gorji soil for many generations.

Ba-betts raised the Touchstone once more, and Maglin gestured with his hand to quiet the rising hubbub.

‘And what do the Naiad say – they who have bred this remarkable horse,’ said the Queen, ‘that is the cause of all our grief?’

Phemra, leader of the Naiad, exchanged a few words with Spindra, from whose stock Pegs had been raised, then stepped forward from the ranks and into the arena, a broad figure in a belted cloth jerkin and leggings which were tied beneath the knee. He removed a wide brimmed hat, woven from coarse grasses, and bowed briefly in the Queen’s direction. His round face, normally cheerful, had grown sombre in the last two days, and now looked deeply creased and troubled. His voice shook slightly as he spoke.

‘With respect, my Lady,’ he said quietly, ‘Pegs was hardly the cause of our grief. He did what he were asked to do – or tried to, leastways. ’Twas not his choice, nor ours neither, but he were willing. And now, if he’s gone, then we ought to be athinking on what
has
gone, and what we’ve lost. Pegs was born of Spindra’s herd, ’tis true, but Spindra didn’t breed ’un. No one can breed a hoss with wings. We don’t know where he come from – nobody do. But he were wiser then arn o’ we, I do know that. And now we stands here while our friend, thass right, our
friend
, for a right good friend he were to us, lies out there among they giants, or maybe injured in some gurt ditch and we’m just
standing
here? And there’s Spindra, sick wi’ worry these two days past, and me
knowing
where Pegs
has
gone but not saying anything, for Counsel says to keep a still tongue. What does that make me? A hemmed fool, thass what – for listening to such claptrap in the first place, and for allowing Pegs to go. But I’ll tell ’ee what – I means to make amends for it. And you may all decide what you hemmed well please, but I be goin’ out there arter Pegs, and I bisn’t comin’ back till I’ve vound ’un, and wass more . . .’ and here the burly farmer thumped his fist into the palm of his hand as he looked directly at the astonished Maglin, ‘I’ll punch the head of arn o’ one who tries to stop I, be ’un carryin’ a bow or no!’

The assembled tribes of the Various, who had been simmering uneasily up until this point, now fairly boiled over. Two hundred voices were raised in approval or disapproval of Phemra’s speech, and the darkening woods rang with the sound of angry tongues. There was a lot of pushing and shoving as the tribes began to mingle. Ba-betts stood up in her Gondla, shouting and waving the Touchstone around, as the three Elders tried to calm her.

Maglin waded into the crowd, grabbed hold of Isak and pulled him out into the arena towards where Phemra still stood, astonished at the seeming effect of his words. Having collared the two tribe leaders, Maglin faced them both.

‘Calm your tribespeople, now!’ he said, ‘before they get hurt. I shall do the same.’ And he strode immediately back into the throng where Aken and Scurl were already close to blows.

‘Aken!’ he shouted. ‘Find Tadgemole and help him
to
quieten the cave-dwellers. Scurl! Gather your archers and line ’em up. Don’t argue. Do it.’ Maglin paced around the edge of the clearing, pulling the woodlanders apart, and giving them strict warning to
stay
apart. Gradually the situation was brought under control, and the Ickri General was then able to devote some attention to the Queen, who was now seated in the Gondla once more, with Doolie fanning her face.

‘Your permission, my Lady, to address the tribes on your behalf,’ said Maglin.

‘You have the Queen’s permission,’ gasped Ba-betts, ‘to
roast
the tribes on my behalf for all I care. Doolie! Get me back to the Royal Pod. I’ll have no more of this. The Queen is not a well Queen.’

‘I believe you should bide a little, Lady,’ said Maglin. ‘What I have to say’ll not take long.’ Ba-betts did not reply, and Maglin took up his position at the Whipping Stone once more. He raised his arm until the crowd was once again silent, and then brought his hand slowly down to rest on the top of the ancient stone post, still warm from the heat of the day.

‘ ’Tis many seasons,’ he said grimly, ‘since this stone were used for its purpose. Shall this be the day, I wonder, when ‘tis brought back into play? I’ve no qualms in the matter, and none shall find themselves exempt, if I deem it so.’ He looked pointedly at Phemra, then at Aken and Scurl. ‘None. Are there any here who’d doubt me? So. Let us bring this Muster to an end.’ He turned to look at the Counsel Elders. ‘We shall vote upon the matter.’ The Elders nodded their consent – what else could they do?

‘Raise hands,’ said Maglin, ‘all those who reckon on letting matters lie – of trusting that, whatever may’ve befallen Pegs, no good would come of sending more of our number from the forest.’ About a third of the crowd raised their hands.

‘Very well,’ said Maglin. ‘Now raise hands all those who reckon on sending out a party to seek for Pegs.’ Well over half the crowd raised their hands at this – a few had refrained from voting either way.’

‘So I take it that we be in favour of seeking out the horse,’ said Maglin. He signalled for them to bring their arms down. Then he said quietly, ‘And now, raise hands all those who be willing to go themselves.’

The crowd had not been expecting this, and whilst there were a few hands that were raised immediately, the majority hesitated. Some hands went up, after a few moments of thought, and were then lowered again, after more thought. Of those that had gone up immediately, some were lowered, only to be raised again. Maglin waited.

A stillness settled on the tribes as Maglin looked from face to face of those with their hands finally and firmly raised. That Scurl and his archers were all seemingly willing to go, did not surprise him – though he noted wryly that one or two of them had originally voted
against
sending out a party. Phemra and Spindra he had expected. Little-Marten, the Woodpecker, sat on his Perch with his arm raised, the young fool. Aken, Glim and the rest of the North and East Wood archers had the sense apparently, to keep their hands down. Good. He could ill afford to lose them. Isak,
Will
and Tod of the Wisp had indicated that they would go. Several of the Troggles and Tinklers, whose names he did not know, had also raised their arms. That did surprise him. What was Pegs to them? He sighed. He would pick five – one from each tribe. That would be seen to be fair. But should he pick the five most likely to succeed, or the five he could most easily lose? For he had little faith in their return. He would sleep on it, and decide in the morning.

‘I shall choose five,’ he announced. The clearing was now hushed. ‘One from each tribe. And I shall make my choice known at sunrise. ’Tis better we all sleep on this. ’Twould be better still,’ he couldn’t help adding, ‘if we knew whether Pegs were alive or dead this night. But that we cannot tell.’

‘
I
can tell.’ The voice, harsh but clear, had come from somewhere behind Ba-betts, and there were many in the crowd who thought at first that it was the Queen who had spoken – but Ba-betts had leapt to her feet in fright and spun round. She lost her grip on the Touchstone as she did so, and the heavy ball of red jasper was flung from her hand, landing with a soft thump in the damp grass, a few feet from the Gondla. All eyes followed the direction of the Queen’s startled gaze. A strange, humpbacked creature emerged from the dark fringe of trees close to the Royal Oak. The thin face and long straggling hair had been dyed green, to match the patched and tattered green robe that hung in folds from the stooping figure. Trails of ivy were wound about the creature’s neck. The ivy rustled slightly as the wild-looking apparition moved
slowly
towards the Gondla, a skinny painted arm outstretched. It was Maven-the-Green.

‘By Elysse, ’tis the old crone,’ muttered Maglin. He left his position at the Whipping Stone and strode quickly across the clearing. The Queen was standing, open-mouthed in fright, as she gripped the side of the wicker chair – hypnotized it seemed by the approaching figure of Maven-the-Green. Maglin beckoned to the four Ickri guards who were positioned at the foot of the Royal Oak. ‘Hold, till I speak,’ he muttered, as he passed them. He ran the last few paces towards the Gondla, in order to reach the Queen before Maven did.

‘Maven!’ he called warningly, ‘Bide there!’ He began to unsling his bow. There was no telling what the fey old creature might do. She was known to carry a little blowpipe within the folds of her sleeve – and the darts she used were said to be tipped with deadly poisons of her own devising. The slightest scratch from one of Maven’s darts could supposedly kill a full-grown brock, stone dead in two winks. Maglin had never known her to actually harm any of the tribespeople, despite her frequent threats and curses, but he would take no chances with her. He notched an arrow to his bow, and stood at the ready beside the Gondla.

Maven had stopped. Her thin arm, streaked with paint or dye, still reached out – seemingly in the direction of Ba-betts – but her eye was on the ground. She stooped, as everyone watched in silence, and the green fingers of her outstretched hand reached down
and
grasped the Touchstone, which lay, half-hidden, in the damp grass. She lifted it gently, and brought it towards her ivy-wreathed body, laying her other hand over the top of the red globe – wet with the evening dew – in a protective, cradling gesture. She wiped the stone dry on the emerald sleeve of her gown.

Ba-betts looked at Maglin and said, indignantly, ‘That’s mine!’

Maglin couldn’t help but smile. The Queen sounded like a chi’ who had lost her plaything. He said softly, but quite sternly, ‘Bring it to me, Maven.’

‘
I
can tell,’ said Maven, fixing her wandering gaze on Maglin for a few moments. ‘ ’Bout the horse. I can tell.’

‘What can you tell, Maven?’

‘Whether ’ee be dead or no.’

Maglin glanced at the Ickri guards, who were beginning to inch round to the back of Maven-the-Green, out of her line of vision. He pursed his lips and shook his head imperceptibly.

‘Just give me the Touchstone, Maven. It belongs to the Queen.’

‘Do it?’ said Maven. She stuck out her tongue – a startling pink against the surrounding green of her painted face – and looked directly at Ba-betts. She brought one of her hands up to her mouth, extended a twig-like finger and rested it on the tip of her tongue. Taking her hand away from her mouth once more she said, ‘The Naiad horse be
dead
,’ and drew her moistened finger slowly across the surface of the Touchstone. She regarded the smooth curve of
the
red stone for a few moments. Raising her dark eyes to stare at Ba-betts as before, she again stuck out her tongue, and dampened her finger with spittle. ‘The Naiad horse do
live
,’ she said and drew her finger once more across the shiny jasper. She watched the stone for a while and then said, ‘Yes. The horse
do
live. But only just. Looksee!’

Extending her arm, she offered the Touchstone to the Queen. Maglin quickly stepped forward, but Ba-betts had automatically reached out and accepted the ball from Maven. The Queen held the Touchstone in both hands and stared at it. Where Maven’s finger had been drawn across the surface, there was a faint mottled streak, dark blue it seemed in the failing light. Maglin glanced at the stone, while continuing to keep a wary eye on Maven. He too saw the mottled blue streak, and immediately assumed that it was paint from Maven’s fingers, though the colour seemed wrong. But as he watched, the mark faded. Like misty breath on polished metal, it simply melted away.

Maven had leaned forward slightly, and was carefully plucking a hair from her head. She held the grey-green strand up and regarded it as it floated gently in the evening summer breeze.

‘The horse lives,’ she said, ‘though his life do hang by a thread no more thick than this ’un.’ She turned and began to make her way back towards the dark mass of trees that fringed the clearing. Her stooping body rocked from side to side as she hobbled along, head down, thoughtfully winding the single strand of
hair
around one of her fingers. The four Ickri guards who had crept round behind her, now parted to let her go by. As Maven drew level with the guards, she suddenly snaked sideways and screeched like an owl in the face of the nearest one. The poor fellow literally fell over backwards with fright, and Maven shuffled on, chuckling to herself, as the red-faced guard was helped to his feet by his companions.

Maglin looked at Ba-betts, whose expression was vacant, perhaps with shock, and wondered what she had made of this episode, if anything. He wondered what
he
was to make of it. Was it just some trick of Maven’s, or did the Touchstone hold some kind of witchi power – some way of telling what was, and what was not? He would have to give it some thought. He was certain of one thing – none but he and the Queen had seen the appearance and disappearance of the bluish mark on the stone. And the whole exchange had been so quiet that he doubted if anyone else could have heard much of it.