The Days of the Deer (25 page)

The same Astronomer who had greeted him in the port was speaking to him. He was saying he would not be received that day, but that he and his companions would be taken to a building close to the
House of the Stars.

‘Soon, possibly tomorrow, you will be visited by the Supreme Astronomers.’

Drimus the Doctrinator was forced to clench his soul in his fists in order not to show his fury. There was nothing he could do for the moment. Nothing but accept the order and wait. Wait until
he had in front of him those who called themselves Supreme Astronomers, the descendants of the ones who had betrayed the Magic of the North. Drimus knew how to dig, to gnaw; he knew where it was
hard and where it was soft. It would be easy for him to transform Bor and Zabralkán into two feeble old men who would fling open the doors of the House of the Stars for him.

‘At least receive the gifts we have brought,’ said Drimus.

‘We cannot do that either,’ he was told.

The Doctrinator wanted to know where they were to be taken. The building they pointed out was a grey pyramid, its base covered in red and blue figures.

The strangers climbed back on their mounts and set off, closely watched by the warriors. Drimus looked back towards the House of the Stars just as the doors closed behind the Supreme Astronomers
and their retinue. He lowered his head to hide his expression, and began to whisper a litany forbidden to ordinary understanding. Slow incantations known only to the Wizards of the Ancient Lands
...

22

In those days, two armies were advancing through the Fertile Lands. They did so
along well-established paths and those long since abandoned; if necessary, they did not
hesitate to hack new ones.

Both armies were marching towards Beleram and a clash with each other. A mighty war was fought when they met. The survivors waited until they had recovered sufficient calm to record these events
and tell of them. When at last they could do so, they talked of streams of blood flowing down to the sea, of dead men burying dead men, of a lament heard for countless years. The Sideresians were
coming from the north. Kupuka and the Husihuilke warriors from the south. The one to lay waste to Beleram. The other to defend it.

As the armies advanced, the shadow of a Wizard from the Ancient Lands darkened Beleram. But above all, it was the truth that lay under a dark shadow, so that the Supreme Astronomers could not
recognize it.

From the north, the Sideresians. From the south, the Husihuilkes. And in between them, the House of the Stars, which could not see what was happening, because its gaze was turned inward on
itself and the strangers shut up in the grey pyramid.

After the Doctrinator’s three ships had left, the greater part of the Sideresian fleet continued on its way, intending to come to shore at different points on the coast to the north of
Beleram. Their aim was to cut off the paths between one people and another so that they could not come to each other’s aid. It would be a simple matter to overwhelm them, and then to fling
their remains against the House of the Stars. ‘Beleram buried under a mountain of dead bodies,’ as Drimus liked to boast.

During the time the Doctrinator was being kept in the grey pyramid, Leogrós’s fleet was reaching the coast.

The Husihuilke warriors had made a rapid advance and were almost halfway through the desert. From there on, things became more difficult. At night, attacks by the Pastors became increasingly
frequent. The men of the desert raided without warning, then quickly retreated, protected by the contours of the wastelands they knew so well. The outcome of these brief skirmishes was not
encouraging. Not simply because each nightly attack took its toll on the Husihuilke army, but because they slowed its advance.

And Beleram knew nothing of this! In the city and surrounding villages everyone went back to their daily tasks with reluctance, as if they realized that the strangers’ arrival was not just
of concern to the Astronomers but also affected their own small lives.

Zabralkán and Bor went daily to the grey pyramid, always accompanied by the other members of the Council. All except Molitzmós, who had been informed of the change of plans and
remained on the shore guarding the ships. One, two, three days had passed since the arrival of the Sideresians in the city of Beleram. By now Drimus was on the point of fulfilling his mission: it
was no coincidence he was Misáianes’ chosen one. That night, for example, he was repeating to the Supreme Astronomers the same warnings the Northmen had given in that same city when
the sun had been five hundred years younger. He repeated them word for word, without making a single mistake. All those who heard him were entranced, because the Wizard had the gift of
enchantment.

The same night as Drimus was deceiving his audience by repeating the Northmen’s words, a column of Sideresians was disembarking on the southern side of the Border Hills. Their ships moored
in a cove where the jungle came down to the sea. Near by, the Offspring of the Stalkers of the Sea were sleeping peacefully under their palm-leaf roofs, in small family villages: Red of the Gourds,
Red of the Fishermen, Small Red and, some way off, Distant Red. The descendants of the Northmen rested in jute hammocks whose swaying helped them dream of the sea. In their dreams, men, women and
children were crossing the Yentru Sea back to the continent of the Fathers, and finally understanding where the colour of their eyes and hair came from. Lulled as they were by the high seas of
their dreams, they did not hear the stealthy footsteps approaching their houses, or the gloved hands drawing back the flaps that served as doors to their huts. Small groups of Sideresians entered
the palm huts, every single hut in every single village of the Offspring. Their glittering weapons slashed at the sleepers’ dreams. Some managed to wake up before they died. Most preferred to
go on dreaming that it was water from the Yentru that was soaking their tunics. At dawn, the hammocks were swaying with blue-eyed corpses.

Some hours later, the time it took the sunlight to move from the Yentru coast to the shores of the Lalafke, the Husihuilke army was preparing for another day’s march. They had just thrown
the body of a dead young warrior into the sea to save him from the desecration the Pastors would inflict on his remains. Kupuka sang the song that would accompany the young hero on his journey.
Then they left him behind, because there were still many more nights to come in their desert crossing. And each would bring its harvest of death.

That same dawn, the one of the Offspring’s last dream, the one of the young warrior being thrown into the sea, Zabralkán was observing an uneasy sky that changed each time he gazed
at it. The Supreme Astronomer realized this situation could not last. Bor made little effort to hide his disagreement with the decision to keep the strangers away from the House of the Stars. Bor
had no doubts: Drimus was a brother who had come in the name of other brothers.

None of the other representatives had opposed Zabralkán’s decision. None of them, through what they either said or did not say, regretted the choice the Supreme Astronomer had made
without consulting them. On the contrary, some seemed to rely on it. Despite this, Zabralkán was aware that the reclusion of the strangers was going on for too long, based on nothing more
than his fears. What was wrong? Zabralkán could give no answer. Where did his spine-chilling dread come from? The strangers had arrived, and nothing terrible had happened. Why therefore was
his soul so opposed to them? Zabralkán’s thoughts had the feverish lucidity of someone who had not slept for nights.

The fact was that Zabralkán was the Supreme Astronomer of the House of the Stars. Even though Drimus wielded his centuries-old science in the service of Evil, Zabralkán felt a
stabbing pain inside him that he could not and would not ignore.

The previous night, as always happened when he was in the presence of Drimus, Zabralkán’s fears had evaporated. Even the stranger’s appearance, which he recalled as that of a
slimy little man with two overlong arms sticking out from his hunchback torso, changed when he was in the same room. On those occasions, Drimus’s ugliness seemed to become legendary. He was
not so much ugly as a weary scholar exhausted by his roaming through the Ages. Yet once Zabralkán was far from Drimus, his doubts assailed him once more. Whose voice was it foretelling death
and desolation? It sounded like a remote echo reaching him from the depths of a cave. The Astronomer tried his utmost to understand what it was saying, but the echo was covered by the sounds of the
world outside. What death did the voice mean? What desolation ...? Through the window, the morning star found the Astronomer pacing up and down the observatory. ‘Come to my aid, brother
star,’ Zabralkán implored him.

Far from there, the abandoned ports of the north were filled with noise. And the marks of unleashed hounds in search of food were soon to be seen on lands uninhabited for so many years. The
fish-women, some of whom were passing close by on their way to Sad Island, concealed themselves behind a high promontory and saw what was going on. ‘Let us swim south,’ they said.
‘We must tell the Astronomers what we have seen,’ they said. ‘We must tell everyone.’ But an attack by carnivorous fish, unheard of in such cold waters, meant the fish-women
could not reach their destination, and had to swim into deep waters, pursued by the predators.

A wind from the jungle, one of those moist, hot winds that herald wet evenings, decided to visit the Offspring’s villages. It liked to see the redheads, who laughed when it blew in their
faces, and came as often as it could. The wind was in a playful mood. It searched for tresses to undo and tunics to ruffle, but could not find any. The villages were deserted: there were no
children threading seashells, or women cleaning fish. The wind pushed its way in through the flaps of the dwellings. Inside all it discovered were dead tresses and dead tunics stretched out on
hammocks that barely stirred when it blew in. Horrified, the wind set off in the direction of Beleram with the sad news. But although it travelled in great haste, it never reached its destination.
Before it could do so, another wind unknown in that region blocked its path and cut it to shreds.

In the other half of the continent, the Husihuilkes continued their advance, killing and dying each night. Whenever a dawn bird passed close by, Kupuka urged it to fly to Beleram with the news.
Later he found out that none of them had arrived. Many people said they had seen lost birds flying round and round in circles, without finding a direction to head in.

As the morning sun turned red, Zabralkán was observing the city from on high. All at once, a movement caught his attention. Cucub was making his way across the platform carrying his
friend the eagle.
He is going to bury her in the jungle
, thought the old man.

In those days, two armies were advancing through the Fertile Lands. They were destined to meet in Beleram, where they would fight the worst war ever known. From the north came the Sideresians.
From the south, the Husihuilkes. And a Wizard from the Ancient Lands was casting a shadow over everything, so that the House of the Stars could not see what was happening. The fish-women could not
bring the message, nor could the wind. Nor could the birds Kupuka sent.

From north and south. Drimus was readying them for the sacrifice. And Beleram knew nothing!

23

‘May your tiny eagle’s soul join all the birds who no longer fly in this sky; and
fly with them without ever tiring in the sky we living beings never see
...’ Cucub said this prayer as he buried his friend. Then he bowed deeply over her grave, and started back towards the House of the Stars.

He was about to leave the jungle without coming across anyone else, as was to be expected this early in the morning out here, when he heard footsteps coming along a path that crossed the one he
was on. Cucub could have continued, thinking it was probably some early-rising hunter or a trader bringing his goods to market from a distant village. He could have done so, and yet he did not.
Instead, he carefully hid so that he could see who it was without being seen. His caution was rewarded, because no sooner had he taken cover in the undergrowth than Illán-che-ñe
appeared on the path.
What is he doing here?
the Zitzahay asked himself. It was very odd to see Illán-che-ñe heading out into the jungle, especially since he did not have
permission from the Supreme Astronomers to leave the House of the Stars.
Perhaps I should find out where he is going and what he is
doing
, thought Cucub.