Down a Lost Road (13 page)

“
Beats being an errand
boy.”

Ouch.
Did I say that with my outer
voice?
Tyhlaur stared at me, stung.

“
I didn’t mean it that
way,” he said.

I shrugged, refusing to meet his gaze. After
a moment he left me – finally – to check on his stew. I realized
Yatol had been watching us out of the corner of his eye, and for
some reason I felt the color rise to my cheeks. I resented Tyhlaur,
and felt embarrassed and unhappy and confused. More than anything I
wanted Yatol to come and talk to me, but he only continued his
quiet conversation with Enhyla. Any other time I would have
appreciated being left alone, but not right then.

Finally
the stew was ready. Tyhlaur
ladled it into polished wood bowls, distributing them with a
triumphant flourish. No one spoke through the meal. I thought about
saying something once or twice, but the silence seemed to be a
matter of form so I decided to wait. And as soon as the bowls had
been cleared away, Enhyla turned to me.

“
There is something you
wish to ask me.”

I glanced up in surprise, but when I met his
gaze my shock faded. Of course he would know that. I studied my
hands briefly, gathering my courage, then found myself again
staring him straight in the eye.

“
What does my father have
to do with all of this? With all of you?”

“
She is like him, isn’t
she?” he said to Yatol. “Direct, especially when she already knows
the answer.”

My gaze snapped from him to Yatol. I didn’t
know if I was more astonished by the question or the statement. I
decided it was the question.

“
Yatol! You knew my
father?”

“
Yes, though not as well as
I would have liked. He came back when I was seven or eight and
spent some time with us, then I became a little better acquainted
with him when he returned in later years. But yes, everyone knew
Davhur.”

Tyhlaur, who had been cleaning up from
supper, spun suddenly around, staring first at me, then at Yatol,
then at Enhyla who shook his head. My gaze followed his, shifting
from one face to the other, finally returning to Yatol’s.
Why
didn’t you tell me?

“
Davhur?” I echoed finally.
“My mother called him David.”

“
And she calls you Mer,
too, or Merry, doesn’t she?”

“
Well, yes, but how’d you
know that?”

Yatol just smiled.

“
Because Davhur told us –
or at least Yatol – so much about you when he came back to us. He
wanted him to know you so…”

“
Tyhlaur,” Yatol said
sternly. “That’s enough.”

“
He wanted you to know me?
Why?” But I knew I wouldn’t get an answer from Yatol, so I turned
back to Enhyla. “He was one of you. Somehow I think I already knew
that. But what was he doing living in my world, working as a
professor?”

“
He was searching for
answers,” Enhyla said. “I wish I had them, that I could give them
to you myself, but I cannot. I do not know them.”

I met Yatol’s gaze, dissatisfied and
curious. He offered me a small smile.

“
Your father was a scholar
here, too. He was an apprentice
ayshak
, raised among the
lore masters.” Seeing my confusion, he said, “I don’t know what you
would call it in your language. The
ayshkahl
pass on our
history and legends in songs and poems. The lore masters have
charge of the written histories, so they always work closely with
the
ayshkahl
.”

Enhyla leaned onto his knees, thrumming his
fingertips together. “Your father was still learning the Fragments
when the Ungulion first arrived on our shores. I was only the
Guardian Master of Lore at the time, but I worked with Davhur on
many occasions. He had insight into the old legends that none of us
did. Most of us had started seeing the ancient tales as mere myth,
and had stopped caring what they said. We recited the formulas, and
lost the meaning. It happened so slowly, over generations, that
before we realized it, our carelessness had blotted out all the
truth of our earliest history.

“
Your father valued those
tales as more than story, though. He was never content with our
explanations. He
knew
that they held the truth. He was only
about your age at the time, Merelin. I remember the day it all
began so clearly. Shariv, the Master Ayshak, was reciting the
second fragment, the Judgment of King Verym. He chanted the line,
The Circle of Judgment / in the Judgment Seat
’ and Davhur
jumped up and said, ‘Is it still there?’ We all wondered what he
was talking about. We had always interpreted the Circle to mean the
Council of Seven, who hear cases and complaints with the King and
advise his responses. But Davhur thought it meant something
entirely different.”

The fire was flickering low, so Tyhlaur got
up silently to lay more brush in the embers.

“
He thought the Circle was
Pyelthan?” I asked.

“
Well, not quite. We had no
recollection of Pyelthan at that point. But he understood
circle
to mean something quite tangible, rather than a
figure of speech.”

“
How did he find
it?”

“
He got permission to go to
the King’s Seat, and that’s where he found Pyelthan. It was there
in the actual throne, in a cage of bronze inlaid in the right arm,
exactly where the king’s hand would rest. Now, this all happened
just as King Serakh found himself targeted by the rebels who had
been stirred up by the Ungulion. When he and Davhur discovered
Pyelthan, he urged Davhur to take it to the academy for
safekeeping, in case the worst should happen at the capitol. Apart
from the King’s Seat itself, the academy is the most jealously
guarded, and most secure, place in all of Arah Byen. Serakh was
right. Two days after Davhur’s departure, he was
assassinated.

“
Your father began studying
the Fragments more carefully. He was the first to insist that ‘the
land across the stars’ didn’t refer to a distant place in Arah Byen
but an actual other world – a world once somehow connected to ours.
He believed that if he could just discover the link, he would find
the answers to our past. Most people didn’t believe him, even at
the academy. They thought he was mad. But then he found his proof.
It was a more dangerous venture than he ever imagined.”

I rubbed my temples, staring fiercely at the
dusty ground. I wanted to be alone and sob for all the grief of my
heart, but I couldn’t let myself break down in front of them. My
vision blurred. I tried to wipe the corner of my eye without anyone
noticing, but I think Yatol saw because at that moment he got to
his feet.

“
I think Merelin and I
ought to get some rest. We’ve been traveling for a long
time.”

I didn’t hear him say anything else, but I
heard Tyhlaur and Enhyla both moving away to begin setting up their
beds. I had my hand shadowing my face now, to hide the tears that
were streaming down my cheeks. Yatol crouched in front of me.

“
Merelin, you don’t have to
be ashamed with me. I…I know your grief.” He paused, then said,
“Take the room at the back, and try to get some rest.”

I lowered my hand. “I just remembered, he
used to tell stories to Damian and me when we were little, to get
us to sleep at night. He would sing them.” I drew a shaking breath.
“Yatol, when did you see him last?”

He met my gaze steadily for a moment, then
he sighed and turned away. I thought I saw his throat tighten, but
he only stood and helped me to my feet.

“
Good night,
Merelin.”

Chapter 9 – Questions and Answers

I woke up some hours later, shaken from
sleep by a horrific dream. Water and wind. Drowning. Even when I
found myself safe in Enhyla’s hut, the fear clung to my mind, and I
had to draw several deep breaths to convince myself I wasn’t
suffocating. The room had grown quite dark, but as my eyes adjusted
I could make out the shifting patterns of shadow in the canopy
above. I rolled over. The flickering light of a small fire and a
soft murmur of voices drifted in from the other room. I edged
toward the partition until I could hear more clearly.

“
But it is too uncertain,”
Tyhlaur was saying. “Yatol, I only just came from
there.”

“
And you came through,
didn’t you? You’re here now.”

“
I must agree with
Tyhlaur,” said Enhyla, so quiet that I almost couldn’t hear him.
Then, louder, “It is most direct, that is true, but it is far more
treacherous.”

“
And is she even ready?”
Tyhlaur asked. “I admit, I don’t know everything there is to know
about this task, but even so it seems to me that whoever undertakes
it would need strength and courage beyond what normal men
have.”

I inched forward, curious.

“
She already knows where we
are going,” Yatol said.

“
So? She may know, but is
she
ready
?” Tyhlaur insisted. “She’s so young, and untried.
Why did they send for her so soon? She didn’t even know her
father’s role here. And if he couldn’t help us, how could a child
like her—”

“
She’s as old as you are,
Tyhlaur. Don’t judge her rashly or you judge yourself, too.
Besides, do you think Onethyl would have brought her if it wasn’t
time?”

“
I can’t say it gives me
much hope.” His voice was sharp, rebellious.

“
That’s your problem, not
mine,” Yatol hissed. “Don’t lay blame on her or anyone else for
that.”

I peered through the cracks in the
partition. Tyhlaur shrugged, running a hand through his shock of
wheat-blonde hair. Enhyla glanced from one to the other.

“
Well, Tyhlaur, I would
also tell you this: do not doubt her.”

Yatol lowered his head. Enhyla studied him
gravely. But neither of them said a word, and Tyhlaur seemed
oblivious to them both.

“
I just hope you know what
you’re doing, Yatol. Remember what Davhur said.”

“
Could I forget it?” His
voice sounded almost bitter.

“
Nothing is certain,”
Enhyla interjected.

“
Yatol would have us think
so. He would have us believe…”

“
Tyhlaur, be silent!” Yatol
got to his feet. “You know nothing of these things. You know
nothing!”

Tyhlaur’s eyes flamed. “He converses with
angels and thinks himself all-knowing.”

Yatol stared down at him, and I could see
his face in profile. There was the strangest expression on his
face, wroth and wounded at the same time. Finally he shook his head
and strode out of the hut, leaving the ivy tendrils swaying in the
doorway behind him. Tyhlaur didn’t watch him go.

“
Get some sleep,” Enhyla
said. “The fire will burn down soon enough.”

Tyhlaur nodded, his lips still pursed with
muted anger.

“
Tyhlaur.” Enhyla stopped
beside him, gesturing for him to get up. As Tyhlaur rose, Enhyla
said softly, “Do not rest on angry thoughts. Sleep clears the mind.
Perhaps what angered you at this late hour you will find reasonable
at last.”

Tyhlaur looked skeptical, but he nodded out
of respect and disappeared from view. I thought Enhyla turned his
head ever so slightly toward me, and lifted his hands as if in
prayer.

“
Let him be consoled. He
conducts himself in wisdom,” he murmured, then he too vanished
beyond the wall.

I realized I was holding my breath. I let it
out cautiously and crept back to the furs, but I couldn’t go to
sleep. Not now. I desperately wanted to know where Yatol was, to
find out what they were talking about. What had my father had told
them? Why was Tyhlaur so anxious about me? His words made me feel
small and inadequate. Or, smaller and more inadequate than I
already felt.

I sat cross-legged in the dark, wide-awake
and keenly aware of every noise. For a while all I heard was the
crackle of the fire and the wind in the roof, but presently I
caught a faint rustle of underbrush outside. I tried to peer
through the narrow slats in the living wall, but I couldn’t see a
thing. I wondered if I could sneak out the front door without
anyone hearing. But then I discovered a gap between the trunks in
the corner of my room, just wide enough for me to slither
through.

A tiny voice in the back of my mind asked
how I would find my way back in the dark, but I ignored it.
Details. I slipped out of the hut, and once clear, followed the
rustling until it stopped abruptly. I kept on in the direction it
had been heading, and soon the trees give way to a broad clearing.
There in the center I glimpsed Yatol’s vague silhouette, standing
with head bowed and hands pressed to his forehead. My heart ached,
and I quickened my pace.