Sword in the Storm (25 page)

“Ah, yes,” said Conn, with a smile, “the Ugly Folk. They used to dwell near the Seidh Woods. Our legends tell how they stole babies and ate them. They were destroyed by Elagareth hundreds of years ago.”

Banouin shook his head. “They ate no babies, Conn. They were—and are—a primitive folk with tools of flint. Leaf eaters, root grubbers. Occasionally they would hunt down a
deer and devour its meat raw. But they were not cannibals. I have visited their few remaining settlements. They are a gentle people with no understanding of the savage violence we carry in our hearts.”

“So you brought me here to see these paintings?”

“Not just the paintings. I wanted you to think about the people who roamed these lands for thousands of years, living free, without war. Then, one day, a new race came with bright swords of bronze and bows that could send death over a distance. They slaughtered the people, driving them high into the cold country. Even now, if one of the people is seen, hunting parties will gather to give chase and do murder. These murderous newcomers took the lands of the people and settled them, building farms and settlements. You understand?”

Conn nodded. “And now a new race has come with swords of iron.”

“Exactly. And in a few hundred years some other powerful tribe—or groups of tribes—will descend upon the gentle peace-loving people of Stone. Then a young man just like you will rail against the evil of it.”

“As he should,” said Conn. “A man should be ready to fight for his land, his people, and his culture. What are we if we don’t? When the wolf attacks our herds, we kill the wolf. We fight to defend what is ours. That is what makes us men.”

“Indeed it is,” agreed Banouin. “But before there were men, it was the wolf who kept the herds strong. By killing the weak and the old, by controlling the numbers so that the herds did not grow so large that they ate all the grass. Nature in balance, Connavar.”

Conn laughed aloud. “If I take what you suggest to its logical conclusion, then when a robber comes to my home, I allow him to take all that is mine. I do nothing. I let him rape my wife, slay my children, and steal my belongings. This is not a philosophy I can embrace.”

“Nor I,” said Banouin. “But now we come to the crux of
the question. I am not saying do not fight. I am saying do not hate. It is not war that leads to murderous excesses, but hate. Whole villages, cities, peoples wiped out. Hatred is like a plague. It is all-consuming, and it springs from man to man. Our enemies become demons, their wives the mothers of demons, their children infant demons. You understand? We tell stories of our enemies eating babes—as was done with the Old Ones. Our hearts turn dark, and, in turn we visit a terrible retribution upon those we now hate. But hatred never dies, Conn. We plant the seeds of it in every action inspired by it. Kill a man, and his son will grow to hate you and seek revenge. When he obtains that revenge, your son will learn to hate him. Can you see what I am saying?”

“No,” admitted Conn. “It is necessary to hate one’s enemies. If we don’t hate them, how can we kill them?”

Banouin sighed, and Conn could see he was disappointed. They sat in silence for a while and ate the stew. Banouin cleaned the dishes and returned them to the pack. Conn spread his blankets and lay down by the fire.

The little merchant sat beside the blaze for a while. “There are only three ways to deal with an enemy,” he said. “Destroy him, run away from him, or befriend him. The man who has come to hate you will never befriend you.”

Then he, too, lay down and pulled his blanket over him.

Conn rolled over and looked at the wall paintings in the flickering light of the fire.

The one abiding truth he did know was that the strong would always conquer the weak.

When the Stone army comes, he thought, the Rigante will be strong.

Eight days later the travelers reached the outer borders of Gath land. To the northwest were the high settlements of the Ostro. “We will visit them on our return,” said Banouin. “It will be good experience for you. The Ostro are born to trade
and like nothing better than to haggle for hours for the finest prices.” The smile faded from his face, and he drew in a deep breath. “But for now we must endure the lands of the Perdii.”

Ahead of them lay the wide expanse of the Perdii River, and beyond it a range of high wooded hills. It was midafternoon as the riders rode their weary ponies down to a settlement on the riverbank. Across the fast-flowing water, moored to the far bank, was a flat-bottomed ferry. There was no sign of a ferryman. Conn transferred his gaze to the settlement. The eleven homes at the riverside were crudely and carelessly constructed, some from green timbers that had warped as they dried, leaving great gaps that had been plugged by clay. Beyond them was a more solid log-built structure with a sod roof. Here there was a paddock. Banouin rode to it, slid open the rail bar, and led the ponies inside. As Conn dismounted, Banouin moved in close. “The men here are not to be trusted,” he said. “There are robbers and thieves among them. Tempers are always short. Follow my lead and be careful what you say and do.”

“Perhaps we should have camped in the hills,” said Conn.

“We were spotted yesterday. Nowhere here is completely safe, but I did not want to be surprised in open country.” He forced a smile. “Do not be too concerned, my friend. I have passed this way before without incident. I am only saying we should be wary.”

Conn said nothing. He could see the tension in the little merchant. Banouin was a tough man, not given to groundless fears. Conn scanned the buildings. Young children were playing in the mud by the riverbank, and a woman was sitting on a rock close by, sewing a patch onto a threadbare cloak. She was wearing a simple dress that had once been blue but was now a washed-out gray. Her hair was long and filthy, her skin dry. Everything about her spoke of loss and defeat. Conn looked away.

Banouin gestured to Conn, and the two men strolled to the
log dwelling. There was no door, merely a long, threadbare cowhide hanging over a pole. Pushing it aside, they entered the single room. Four men were sitting at a table, gambling with painted knucklebone dice. One glanced up as the newcomers entered. His head was huge and totally bald, his eyes small and dark. “You’ll be wanting the ferry,” he said. “Dovis and his brother took some cattle to market. They won’t be back until tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Banouin said, with a friendly smile.

“You want to play?”

“Perhaps later. We need to tend to our ponies.”

“I saw them,” said the man, rising from his chair and stretching his back. He was big, several inches over six feet, and his bearskin jerkin served to make him look even more formidable. “Heavily laden. You’re the merchant Banouin.”

“Yes. Have we met?”

“No. I recognized you from the blue hat. You should join us. It would be friendly. Don’t you want to be friendly?”

“I am always friendly,” said Banouin. “But I am a terrible gambler. Luck never favors my throws.” Turning away, he walked back to the door.

“Perhaps your lady friend would like to play? A long time since we had such pretty company,” said the man. The others laughed.

“Indeed I would,” Conn said with a smile. “Knucklebones is a great favorite among my people.” He walked across to stand before the big man, and when he spoke, it was with easy familiarity. “Before we play we first need to understand one another. I am a stranger here and unused to your customs. But I am a fast learner. Now, we have not met before and yet you insult me. Back home I would have killed you.” Conn smiled and tapped the big man’s chest. “I would have cut out your heart. But what I must consider is that I am in a different land. Here it is obviously customary to engage in banter with strangers. Am I right, you fat, ugly mound of cow shit?”

The big man’s jaw dropped, and his eyes narrowed. With a foul curse he lunged at the Rigante. Conn did not move back. Instead he whipped a straight left into the man’s face, following it with a right cross that sent him spinning across the table, which upended, spilling knucklebones and copper coins to the dirt. The big man came up fast, but Conn had moved in and thundered a right into his face that split the skin under his eye. He grabbed Conn’s tunic and tried to haul him into a rib-snapping bear hug. Conn head butted him in the nose. The man cried out and fell back. Conn hit him with two straight lefts followed by a right uppercut to the belly. Air whooshed from the man’s lungs, and he bent double—straight into Conn’s rising knee.

The big man slumped to the floor unconscious.

The first of the other men surged to his feet and froze as Conn’s knife touched his throat, pricking the skin and causing blood to ooze onto his filthy shirt. “Where I come from,” Conn said, conversationally, “it is considered wise to know the nature of a man before making him an enemy. Here, in this stinking cesspit, you obviously have other ideas. The question is, Do I cut your throat and kill your friends or do I wander out and see to my ponies? Do you have any thoughts, scum breath?” The knife blade pricked deeper.

“See … to the … ponies?” ventured the man.

Conn smiled and turned his attention to the other two, who were sitting very quietly watching him. “What about you? Do you disagree?” The men shook their heads. “Excellent! Then we all understand one another.” Conn sheathed his blade, turned his back, and strode to where Banouin waited.

As they stepped outside, Conn glanced at his companion. “I am sorry, foreigner. I do not have your diplomatic skills.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. Diplomacy must always be backed by strength. You handled that situation well. There was no other way. They were spoiling for a fight. Now, perhaps, they will think again. However, if you will permit a
criticism, the first right cross was a little clumsy. You hit him off your back foot. It robbed the blow of real power. I thought I taught you better than that.”

Conn laughed. “What would I do without you, teacher?”

“Fairly well from what I’ve seen,” replied Banouin.

Removing saddles and packs from the eight ponies, they groomed them, forked hay into the paddock, and fetched water from the river. Then Banouin made a camp beneath a spreading oak, preparing a small fire. The night was clear, the stars bright.

Soon after sunset a young woman approached them. She was scrawny, her clothes ragged. For a share of their meal she promised to pleasure both of them.

“That is very kind,” said Banouin. “But you are welcome to join us anyway. It would be nice to entertain a guest.”

The girl stood for a moment. “I have a child,” she said.

“Bring the child also,” said Banouin.

The girl moved away to a nearby hovel and returned carrying a toddler. Banouin prepared a broth, seasoned it with spices, then produced two flat loaves they had bought the previous day in a settlement to the west. The girl said nothing throughout the meal, and Conn noticed that she fed the toddler before devouring her own broth and bread.

“Have you been here long?” Banouin asked her.

“Two years, I think.”

“Where is the boy’s father?”

“He went away,” she answered. “Left one night. Never came back.”

“Where are you from?”

“Long Branch. It is a Perdii settlement.”

“I know it,” said Banouin. “It is less than three days walk from here. Why do you not go home?”

She did not reply. The toddler, his belly full, was asleep in her arms. She looked immensely weary. “I am ready to pay you now,” she said.

“There is no need of payment, child. Take your son to bed. And if you wish to travel with us tomorrow, I will take you to Long Branch.”

“There is nothing for me there,” she said. “There is nothing for me anywhere. Except for my little one.” Kissing the toddler’s head, she pushed herself to her feet and walked away.

“She is no older than me,” said Conn.

“Old enough to know sorrow,” observed Banouin. “I am going to get some sleep. Wake me in four hours, then I will stand watch. Wake me earlier if they come. Do not try to tackle them all alone.”

“They won’t come for us,” said Conn. “I read the fear in their eyes.”

“Confidence is to be applauded, arrogance avoided,” quoted Banouin, settling down under his blanket.

The lands of the Perdii were heavily wooded and increasingly mountainous, which pleased Conn, for it was more like home, and in truth, his spirit was restless for the sight of Caer Druagh and the home fires of the Rigante. Yet Banouin grew more tense once they had crossed the Perdii River and, as he rode, constantly scanned the countryside.

“What are you looking for?” asked Conn.

“Trouble,” the Foreigner answered tersely. He seemed in no mood for conversation, and the two riders journeyed on in silence for most of the morning.

By dusk Conn was casting around for a place to rest the ponies and enjoy a midday meal. They had made a brief stop at noon, finishing the last of the bread. As the sun was sinking, Conn saw a stand of oak trees that dipped down into a valley. From where they rode Conn could see the distant, glittering ribbon of a stream shining gold in the dying light. Moving alongside Banouin, he pointed down to the valley. “A good place to camp?” he asked.

The foreigner shook his head. “Talis Woods,” he said.
“That is what the Perdii call the Seidh. No one goes there. They have a legend here that tells of a warrior who entered the Talis Woods one morning and emerged in the afternoon an old man. We will move on. There is a farm close by. I know the farmer well. He will put us up for the night.”

They arrived at the wooden farmhouse within the hour to find it cold and deserted, the door hanging on its leather hinges. Banouin dismounted and moved inside, pushing open the shutters. Finding several stubs of candles, he lit one, holding it high and examining the main room. It had been stripped of furniture, the shelves cleared. Slowly he walked through the other three rooms. All had been emptied of any items that could be carried away with ease. There was a broken chair in the main room, and several chipped pots and pans were scattered in the wide kitchen area.

Conn joined him. “Robbed, do you think?” asked the younger man.