Six Heirs (19 page)

That didn’t, however, make their walk any more enjoyable. Yan found it even more tiring than his night in the Kaulien scrubland. The ground was muddy, slippery, and spotted with puddles; the rain pooled on the leaves above and fell in droplets, which seemed to take a wicked pleasure in slipping under their clothes; and the horses’ exhaustion made it difficult to tug them along.

Also, Grigán frequently commanded instant silence and stillness from his companions, with an imperious wave of his hand. He would remain motionless for a moment, listening, sometimes furtively scouting the surroundings, and then set the line back in motion again. None of it relieved the feeling of tension that had little by little taken hold of the group.

Upon returning from his fifth patrol, which was a lot longer than the others, the warrior didn’t give the signal to continue on. With gestures, he ordered them to keep quiet, then led them on a large detour that took longer than a centiday. Finally, he relaxed a little and whispered a few words to Corenn. Yan didn’t hear everything, but he understood that the warrior had seen three men setting up a camp, that they weren’t necessarily dangerous, but he wouldn’t bet his life on it.

Apparently, Grigán wasn’t much of a gambler. Deep down, it was rather reassuring.

They moved onward for an entire deciday, even after the sun had gone down. Yan wondered how the warrior knew where he was going. He himself was completely disoriented and would have even had trouble saying which way was north.

“How are you able to guide us? You can’t see the stars, and we don’t have even the trace of a path to follow, nor the slightest landmark to help.”

“Magic,” he answered, without batting an eye.

“What?”

“It’s magic. I focus very intently on my destination and the path appears in my mind. All Ramgrith men have this power.”

Yan was dumbfounded. Was Grigán making fun of him?

“All right, fine, it’s not magic. It’s simply thanks to this object. You see the arrow? Once it’s stopped moving, it always points north.”

Yan examined in amazement the crafted ivory object Grigán held out to him. After a few moments, the little metal arrow became still, pointing more or less to his left. If it wasn’t just another joke, Yan was ready to believe it was magic after all.

“Where did you get that from?” he asked, handing it back to Grigán.

“I purchased it for a fortune from a Rominian sailor. It’s largely thanks to these kinds of inventions that the Old Country was able to dominate the known world for centuries. And that’s also why they still jealously guard their secrets.”

“How does it work? It isn’t really magic, is it?”

“Honestly?”

“Yes!”

“I don’t know. It works, that’s it. Maybe it’s magic, maybe it’s divine, maybe it’s mundane. I don’t know,” he repeated.

“It most certainly is not magic,” Corenn interrupted.

“Why not?”

“I’ve seen plenty of needles like that before. In my opinion, there’s nothing special about them. They simply fall into the same category as other natural phenomena, like the tides, for example, or the seasons, or the phases of the moon.”

“In the Lower Kingdoms, and even elsewhere,” Grigán commented, “I’ve come across cultures that consider each one of those phenomena a divine work.”

“I suppose it depends on one’s point of view. Why not, after all? One man’s folly is another man’s truth,” Corenn concluded mysteriously.

Yan was far from satisfied. What Léti had said, or rather hadn’t said, about her aunt and the supernatural came back to him. What could it be? What were the women hiding from him?

Thinking on it...this whole story about the wise emissaries who disappeared from an island, only to reappear two moons later...up until now, he hadn’t really believed it. But as they neared the place in question and after spending a few days with the heirs, who were completely convinced of its truthfulness, he was beginning to have serious doubts.

Could it really be that this old legend was true?

His mind was buzzing with curiosity like never before. The impossible. Magic. Legends.

Yan was prepared to do anything to be at their side, even if for a short while and at a distance. When he was just a child, he eagerly listened as the Ancestress told all the stories, from the underwater kingdom of Xéfalis to the tragedy of the speaking dolphin, Quyl’s endless quest, and the legend of the mage Guessardi, not to mention the religious fables about Brosda, Eurydis, and Odrel. Any confrontation with something out
of these ancient tales, however minor, seemed to him some of the most valuable experiences imaginable.

All of a sudden, Yan had forgotten his tiredness and even, momentarily, his apprehension about the Day of the Promise. What were they waiting for?

Unfortunately, he had to put a damper on his enthusiasm soon after, when the group met back up with the road. Grigán made everyone turn back then to an abandoned hut they had passed, where at last he “suggested” they stop for the night.

As was his custom, Grigán made a detailed inspection of the surroundings before loosening up a bit. They had a quick bite to eat before tackling the duties they had tacitly assumed out of habit: Grigán took care of the horses, Yan was responsible for the heavy lifting required to set up camp—reduced, this time, to clearing out the hovel—and Corenn and Léti handled the general settling in.

“I think it would be best if someone kept watch tonight,” said Grigán. “Yan, are you feeling up to it?”

“Of course. I’m too wound up to go to sleep right now anyway.”

“Good. Just wake me when you feel tired.”

“What about me?” Léti interjected. “When will it be my turn?”

“Never, so long as we can avoid it. It’s more dangerous than you think.”

“So what? I’m not scared, if that’s what you mean. Will you let me help, or not?”

“No.”

Léti rolled her eyes in frustration, feeling powerless against the warrior’s will.

“I’ll do it without your permission. I’ll stay awake all night if I want.”

“It’s up to you,” he said simply.

After struggling for a few moments to come up with a retort, Léti began pouting again.

“I’ll miss these special, happy moments later,” announced Corenn ironically.

Yan was the only one who got the joke. Once everyone was in bed, he took his post at the spot Grigán had indicated, bow and arrow in hand.

As he sat alone in the cold night, listening and watching the darkness, he experienced a strange, somewhat savage joy that he had never known before.

It was the first time the warrior had given him his complete trust.

It was also the first time he was truly watching over Léti. As if they were in Union.

The next morning Yan felt less heroic. He had struggled to keep his eyes open until the darkest of the night, then regretfully woke up Grigán. He would have liked to have let the warrior rest, but felt the fatigue slowly overtake him.

Worse, even though he did wake Grigán, and it was already late in the morning, he still felt tired enough to sleep another deciday.

Despite this, he was pleasantly surprised when he left their little shack and saw a cloudless sky. The sun was already heating the Lorelien soil, promising better weather. A light breeze rustled the leaves still hanging on the nearby trees,
while hundreds of birds celebrated this welcome break from the Season of Wind with song.

Léti wasn’t there, nor Grigán. Since no horses were missing, Yan didn’t worry.

He walked over to Corenn, who was huddled near a small fire. She greeted him and handed him a hot, aromatic infusion.

“What is it?”

“Some cozé. It’s a plant imported from Mestèbe. It has an odd taste, but it’s supposed to shake off sleep for even the most tired travelers. None of the Mothers attend a full meeting without drinking a bowl or two.”

Yan smiled at the reference and sipped the brew. He found it pretty tasty.

“You hide many talents from us, Lady Corenn,” he said, unthinkingly.

“I wonder how I should take that,” she answered, feigning vexation.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant, I—”

“I know, I am kidding. Some people who know me well would say that you are entirely correct,” she told him mysteriously.

Yan considered this response for a moment, but didn’t know what to make of it. So he moved on.

“What will the council do? About you, I mean?”

“Since I didn’t officially retire, my assistant should stand in for me until my return. But if my absence continues, the Ancestress will nominate someone else to take my place when she thinks it best. Same procedure as if I were dead, actually.”

“How does that make you feel?”

“Of course I regret it, but what can we do? As long as the Züu are after us, our only chance at survival, paradoxically, is
to feign death. In Kaul, only the Mother responsible for Justice knows our situation. But that’s already one person too many; if our enemies capture her, she herself will be in danger. And we will be even worse off given the information that they can get out of her.”

Yan nodded his head. If he hadn’t yet understood the gravity of the situation, Corenn was quickly remedying that oversight.

“Why doesn’t Grigán talk to us about these things? It might help Léti understand; it could make things easier between them.”

“Do you think Léti needs to hear this right now?”

Yes, actually. She was already shocked enough by her friends’ assassinations, and the one she had escaped.

“So, why are you sharing it with me?”

“Because I know you are smart. And that you will need this information if Grigán follows through with his plans.”

Yan was going to ask for more information, when the missing members of their band returned to the camp. They both looked very unhappy, particularly Grigán. As soon as they arrived, they turned their backs to one another. It was shaping up to be a great day.

“What happened?” Yan asked his friend.

“It’s the crank’s fault. He was going to kill a standing sleeper,” she said. “I kept him from shooting, and he got mad.”

Yan understood. Léti had a semidomesticated standing sleeper for several years. Above all, it was important not to call the little creatures “game animals” in her presence.

“How did you do it?”

“I yelled as loud as I could. The standing sleeper woke up and ran away. You didn’t hear it?”

“No, maybe I was still inside.”

Yan tried to imagine Grigán’s expression at the moment Léti screamed in his ears. That wasn’t the sort of thing to put him in a good mood. He was always worried about their discretion.

The grumbling warrior armed himself from head to foot, and quickly left the camp, mumbling something like, “Have to go patrol, thanks to that stupid, willful little girl,” to Corenn.

Yan wouldn’t want to be in Léti’s shoes just then.

It seemed like they were going to get a very late start today. After Yan had washed his face, packed his bags, took care of the horses, and finished other daily chores, Grigán still hadn’t returned. Yan decided to get in a little shooting practice. He left the camp with his bow and arrows.

Léti quickly followed suit. They took turns practicing, the young woman getting the best results by far in terms of precision, but still having plenty of trouble putting power behind her shot.

They had a lot of fun; Yan relished the simple joy of one-on-one time with the woman he loved. Joy great enough to distract him from worrying about Grigán finding them.

When Léti started to show signs of fatigue, they headed back toward Corenn, who sat on a blanket spread out at the foot of a tree, writing in a small book. Yan was burning with questions, but stronger yet was his respect for her personal time and his fear of being rude. So he just let himself sneak a glance at her from time to time.

Finally Grigán came back. He seemed calmer, his anger mastered. He brought back some game, and no standing sleepers—thankfully—in the bunch. By chance or choice? No one asked.

The warrior set down the new rations and began to pluck the feathers from a pair of sea pheasants he had shot. Because it was so rare for Grigán to slow them down, the young Kauliens were surprised he seemed to be taking his time. After finishing with the birds, he spread out all his blades in front of him—an impressive sight—and started sharpening and oiling one after the other.

Léti approached and watched patiently for a moment.

“Are you still mad?” she asked.

The warrior didn’t even look up.

“No, no, of course not, I’m just thinking, that’s all.”

And he went on sharpening. He seemed embarrassed, almost ashamed.

“I think I understand, you know,” Yan interrupted.

Grigán stared at him, wondering.

“We can’t all go to Berce and plunge into the lion’s den. You don’t want to go alone and leave us unprotected. The best solution is that I go, since the Züu don’t know me. But you can’t make up your mind.”

Three pairs of eyes turned to stare at Yan, waiting for him to finish.

“You’d better get used to it, because I’m going to Berce today.”

“It could be dangerous.”

Yan stuck out his chest, a bit stupidly.