Down by the river, flowing broad and slow between rushy banks, sat a woman with steel-grey eyes and silvery-blonde hair that tumbled down her back. When she rose to greet him, he abruptly saw her slender body as a shaft of granite, hard and cold and real among the shifting forms of the Land. Round her neck she wore a tiny figurine, seemingly carved from amethyst, that echoed her body in every detail. It actually was her body, in fact, once physical meat and blood and bone but transformed by his magic so that she could live in his country. Dallandra was one of the truly-born, a member of that race called elves or Westfolk by men and the Children of the Gods by the Gel daThae, though they called themselves simply the People. She was also a dweomermaster of great power, though no human or elven sorcerer could ever match Evandars skill.
What did your brother want? she said.
To blame me for letting his territories fall into disrepair. Let him build his own, if he wants them as badly as all that. Ive no time to waste upon his snouted, hairy pack. He walked to the riverbank and looked into the astral water, thick and silver, oozing rather than flowing between the clumps of water reeds and the rushes. No matter what I do, this river remains. I wonder if it will still exist after Im dead and scattered into nothingness, I mean.
It might well, at that. Of course, theres no reason for you to die with your domain. You could choose birth like your daughter has.
She spoke casually, barely looking his way.
Ive made my choice, he snapped. Never shall I go live in the world of blood and muck and pain and mire.
Well, then theres naught I can do about it, is there?
His hurt that she would sound so indifferent to his death stabbed like a winter wind. For a moment he was tempted to change his mind, just to spite her.
But I do have to visit it now and again, he said instead. Ive started a few more hares upon this field, and I have to go see how they run.
I hope you know what youre doing.
He laughed, tossing back his head.
I hope I do, too, my beloved. I sincerely hope I do. Dont you trust me?
Its not a question of trust. Its just that everythings getting so dreadfully complicated. You seem, to have so many schemes afoot.
Only the one, to keep Elessario safe once shes born.
But youve a fair number of meats simmering in this particular stew. And I worry about Time, my love. It runs so differently here in your world than it does in mine.
Why must you always refer to that world as yours? I want you to stay here forever with me.
She hesitated, but in the end, although he could see longing in her eyes, she shook her head no.
My place is there, in the world of men, the world of Time.
And the world of Death.
It is, at that. Some things are beyond changing. But after death comes new birth.
He tried to speak, but no words came. Whether it was beyond his changing or not, he knew that Time and her daughter Death were beyond his understanding. The knowing gave him doubts. Maybe he didnt understand the universe as completely as he thought he did, maybe his power was far more limited than he thought it was. With those doubts, a distant city vanished from his lands forever, wiped away like a smear of charcoal from a hearthstone.
Although it seemed to Evandar that a mere hour or two had gone by since hed seen the Gel daThae bard and spoken with Jahdo, ten whole days of Time as we measure it in our world had passed for them. Theyd been following the stream south, stopping often to rest the horse and mule, since by then they were long out of oats. Although they skirted hills, rising off to the north and east, the river itself seemed headed for lower country. As the river deepened, the banks turned flat and grassy, so that the walking became much easier, even though the forest grew thick and wild to either hand. As Jahdo described the terrain to the bard, Meer remarked that someone must be inhabiting this country, whether theyd seen them or not.
Trees hug water, lad. Following this river should be a battle, not an easy stroll. Someone cleared this bank, and not so long ago, either, or second growth would have taken it over.
Well, maybe so. I hope they dont mind us using the road.
So do I.
Thinking about what might happen to them if they ran into hostile natives made Jahdo nervous enough to sharpen his eyes. As the river began turning east, he found himself studying the bank as they walked. Here and there he found brown traces of crumbling horse-dung, and the rare hoof-print, too, cut so deeply that the rains hadnt washed it away.
Do you think thats dung from Thavraes horses?
It sounds too old from the way you describe it, Meer said. So it more likely came from horses belonging to the natives. Hum. If they drive stock through here, clearing the bank would make sense.
I wonder if they be the same people from the old tales? The ones who helped the ancestors escape.
Those were the Children of the Gods, Meer snapped. The lore says so.
But what would gods want with real horses?
Meer had to chew over this piece of heresy for a long time before he answered.
Perhaps your helpers were indeed horseherders, as your lore says, but acting under the direction of the gods or their children, as our lore says. That would make sense, all nice and tidy, like.
Very well, then. If they are the same people, then we dont have to worry. The tales talk about how decent they were, feeding the ancestors and giving them knives and mules and stuff so they could farm up in the Rhiddaer.
Hum. Goes to show, then, that they were guided by the gods for purposes of the divine wills.
Why?
Well, any ordinary folk would have enslaved the ancestors all over again.
The tales do say that these people were against keeping slaves, on principle, like, just like we are. They thought it was dishonourable and just plain rotten.
Meer snorted in profound scepticism.
Not likely that anyone would believe such a thing, is it? he said. Well, not to insult your tribe or suchlike.
Oh, never mind. Jahdo had always heard the grown men say that trying to change a Gel daThaes mind about anything was like trying to stop a fire mountain from spewing. Everyone be different.
Round noon they came to an enormous meadow, ringed with rotting tree stumps, which gave credence to their theory that the mysterious horseherders had cleared some of this land. After theyd unloaded the stock and let them roll, and Meer had prayed, they unpacked a scant dinner and settled down to eat. Although they still had a good amount of cheese, hard tack and jerky left, theyd used up half of their supplies, and Jahdo was beginning to worry about what theyd eat on the way home. Meer, of course, was convinced that the gods would provide for them when the time came.
Jahdo had just finished his meal when he heard a strange sound, a rasping bird-call, up in the sky.
Whats that? Meer said. Sounds like a hawk.
Jahdo looked up.
It is, truly.
Far above them, silhouetted against wispy clouds, the bird was circling the meadow. From the backward sweep of its wings and its colour, dark grey on its back, a very pale grey on its belly, Jahdo could tell that it was a falcon of some variety or other. Even though it soared high, he could see its slender grey legs and the mottling on its breast so clearly that, he realized suddenly, it had to be enormous. As he stared up, the bird suddenly flapped and flew, just as if it knew he watched. Yet he thought little of it at first. Toward evening the falcon, if indeed it were the same bird, reappeared to hover above them as they made their camp. Again, when Jahdo stood for a better look, it flew abruptly away.
Whats that? Meer said. Sounds like a hawk.
Jahdo looked up.
It is, truly.
Far above them, silhouetted against wispy clouds, the bird was circling the meadow. From the backward sweep of its wings and its colour, dark grey on its back, a very pale grey on its belly, Jahdo could tell that it was a falcon of some variety or other. Even though it soared high, he could see its slender grey legs and the mottling on its breast so clearly that, he realized suddenly, it had to be enormous. As he stared up, the bird suddenly flapped and flew, just as if it knew he watched. Yet he thought little of it at first. Toward evening the falcon, if indeed it were the same bird, reappeared to hover above them as they made their camp. Again, when Jahdo stood for a better look, it flew abruptly away.
On the next day Jahdo kept watch for it, and sure enough, in the middle of the morning it reappeared, flying in lazy circles and holding its place even when he stopped walking to scrutinize it. With a call to Meer to hold for a moment, he shaded his eyes and studied the bird, which seemed to be flying lower than it had the day before.
Meer, heres an odd thing! Way above us theres a falcon, circling round, like, but its the biggest falcon Ive ever seen. Its way too big for a peregrine, which is sort of what it does look like.
How big, lad? This could be important.
Well, huge, actually. He paused, trying to gauge distances and size. You know, Id swear it were as big as a pony, but that cant be right. Its all the clouds and stuff, I guess, making it hard to see. I mean, not even eagles do grow so big.
Meer howled, a cry of sheer terror, and flung both hands in front of his sightless eyes. With a flap and a screech, the falcon flew away.
It be gone now, Jahdo said. What be so wrong?
Bad geas, lad, bad bad geas! Dont you understand? Theres only one thing a bird that large could be!
But there cant be a bird that large. Thats what I did try to say.
Hah! You dont understand, then. I should have known you didnt, when you didnt sound afraid. A mazrak, lad, thats what it must be. The most unclean magician of all, a shapechanger, a foul thing, using a cowards magic.
Huh? You mean someone who can turn themselves into a bird?
Just that. If a mazraks spying upon us, then things are dark indeed.
Jahdo quite simply didnt know what to say. While theyd been travelling, Meer had been teaching him lore, just as hed promised. The bards tales had introduced him to an entirely new world, one where the gods moved among men and demons fought them, where spirits roamed the earth and caused mischief, where magic was a necessary part of life, as well, to fend all these presences off or to bend the weaker ones to your will. Automatically Jahdos hand went to his throat to touch the thong-full of talismans that hung there. He would have laughed all the tales away if he hadnt seen with his own eyes the being called Evandar disappear. As it was, he was prepared to believe almost anything.
Well, it were an awful huge hawk, he said.
Of course it was. Mazrakir cant shrink themselves or such-like. They can only change the flesh they have into another form. Its only logical that their totem animal, the one they change into, I mean, would be about the same size they are.
There be other ones than birds?
Some are bears, some wolves, some horses. All kinds of animals, depending on the nature of the mazrak. Meer turned his head and spat on the ground for luck. But its bad geas to even talk about such things. Lets move on, lad. And wed best travel ready to duck into the forest, where spying hawks cant follow or see.
All right. And can we sleep in the woods, too?
Wed best do just that, indeed.
The very next morning Jahdo became a believer in the power of mazrakir to bring bad luck. Just at dawn he woke, sitting bolt upright and straining to hear again the sound that had wakened him. From far above it came again, the shriek of a raven, and a huge one, judging from how loud it squawked. In his blankets nearby, Meer rolled over and sat up.
Jahdo, what?
Jahdo rose to a kneel, peering through the tree-leaves overhead. He could just see a black shape flapping off, a bird as large as a wolfhound at the least, thwacking the air with huge wings.
It be another one, he burst out. Meer, another mazrak.
Meer whimpered under his breath.
It be gone now, Jahdo went on. I hope it doesnt come back.
Never have I echoed a hope so fervently! Meer considered for a moment, then pushed his blankets back with a huge yawn. Im tempted to try travelling through the forest edge, out of sight, like, but the footing will be too hard on the horses. Besides, if we lose the river, were doomed.
Well, I was kind of thinking the same thing, about the river, I mean.
We will pray to the thirteen gods who protect travellers before we set out today. But first, lets lead the horses to their drink, and break our own nights fast.
After the horses were watered and tethered out on the grassy bank to graze, Jahdo knelt by the gear, took out a few small pieces of flatbread and some chewy dried apples, a scant handful each for him and Meer, and laid them on a clean rock while he repacked the saddlebags to balance. Behind him Meer was strolling back and forth, singing under his breath and rehearsing phrasing, as he always did with a particularly important prayer. All at once the bard fell silent. Jahdo slewed round to find him standing frozen, his mouth slack, his head tilted as if he listened for some tiny sound.
What is it? Jahdo got to his feet. What be wrong?
Meer tossed back his head and howled. Never had Jahdo heard such a sound, a vast vibrating ululation of grief, all the worlds mourning, or so it seemed, gathered and rolled into this long long wail, wavering and shrieking up and down the bards entire register.
Meer! Jahdo ran to him and grabbed his arm. Meer! Tell me. What be so wrong?
Another howl answered him, then another, long cascading waves of grief and agony, while Jahdo shook his arm and begged and shouted and in the end, wept aloud in sheer frustration. The sound of his tears cut through the bards rapt anguish.
Forgive me, lad, Meer gasped. But my brother, my brother! I think hes dead.
What? Shock wiped the tears away. Dead? When? I mean, how can you know?
Just now, and the brother bond told me.
Meer shook the boys hand away and stalked into the forest. Jahdo hesitated, then decided that Meer would need to be alone, at least for a while. He wiped his face on a dirty sleeve, then picked up the food again, packing Meers share away, eating his own while he squinted up at the sun. Not even half of the days first watch had passed since the mazraks cry had wakened them.
Ill bet it was the mazrak, too, Jahdo said aloud. Ill bet that ugly old raven does have much to do with this.
Thinking of the mazrak made him shudder in cold terror. He ran across the open space, hesitated on the edge of the forest safety, groaned aloud, then dashed back again to grab the tether ropes of the horse and mule.
I dont even want to think about that raven getting you, he told them. Come on. Lets go find Meer.