The Dreaming Void (31 page)

“Yes, Master.”

The sun had dropped to the top of the rampart wall by the time Edeard hurried up a lane off the main street, heading for the granite cliff at the back of the village. Already the glowing colors of the night sky were emerging through the day's blue like trees out of morning mist. Old Buluku was directly overhead, the vulpine serpent manifesting as a violet stream that slithered through the heavens in a fashion that none of Querencia's few astronomers could ever fathom. It certainly did not shift with the seasons or even orbit around the sun. As Edeard watched, a sliver of electric-blue light rippled lazily along its length, a journey that would take several minutes, too weak to cast a shadow across the dry mud of the lane. Odin's Sea already was drifting toward the northern horizon, a roughly oval patch of glowing blue and green mist that visited the summer nights. The Lady's teachings were that it formed the heart of the Void, where the souls of men and women were carried by the Skylords so that they could dream away the rest of existence in quiet bliss. It was only the good and the worthy who were blessed with such a voyage, and the Skylords had not been seen in Querencia's skies for so long, they were nothing but legend and a faith kept by the Lady's followers. Protruding from the ragged edges of Odin's Sea were the reefs, scarlet promontories on which Skylords carrying the souls of those less worthy were wrecked and began their long fall into Honious and oblivion.

Edeard often wondered if so many unworthy humans had been carried aloft by the Skylords that there were simply no more of the great creatures left. It would be so typical that humans should bring such casual destruction to this universe. Thankfully, the Lady's teachings said that it was humans who had declined in spirit; that was why the Empyrean Lady had been anointed by the Firstlifes to guide humans back to the path that once again would lead them to the Heart of the Void. It was a sad fact that not many people listened to the Lady's kind words these days.

“Calling to the Skylords?” a voice asked.

Edeard smiled and turned. His farsight had kept watch on her since she had stepped out of the church ten minutes earlier—one of the reasons he had chosen this particular route. Salrana emerged from the shadows of the marketplace. Behind the deserted stalls, the church curved up above the rest of the village buildings with quiet purpose. Its crystal roof glimmered in refraction from the altar lanterns.

“They didn't answer,” he said. “They never do.”

“One day they will. Besides, you're not quite ready to sail into the Heart yet.”

“No, I'm not.” Edeard could not quite match her humor. He might as well have been traveling into the Heart given the distance to Makkathran.
How will she cope with me leaving?

He was not the only one growing up that summer. Salrana also had put on several inches over the last couple of years; her shoulders were broad as if she was growing into a typical sturdy farmer's girl, but whereas her contemporaries were thickening out, ready for their century of toil on the land, she remained slim and agile. Her plain blue and white novice robe had grown quite tight, which always made Edeard glance at her in an inappropriate fashion. Not that there was any helping it; she was losing her puppy fat to reveal the sharpest cheekbones he'd ever seen. Everyone could see how beautiful she was going to be. Thankfully, she still suffered from pimples and her auburn hair remained wild and girlish; otherwise, being in her presence would be intolerable. As it was, he viewed her friendship with delight and dismay in equal measure. She was far too young to be wanting to bed, though he could not help wondering how long it would be before she was old enough. Such thoughts made him fearful that the Lady would strike him down with a giant lightning bolt roaring out from Honious itself, though of course Her priestesses did marry.

Irrelevant now. Even if I do come back, it won't be for years. She'll be with some village oaf and have three children.

“You're in a funny mood,” Salrana said, all innocent and curious. “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah. Actually, it is. I've had some good news. Great news.” He held up a hand. “And I will tell you later, I promise.”

“Gosh, a secret, and in Ashwell. Bet I find out by noon tomorrow.”

“Bet you don't.”

“Bet me what?”

“No. I'm being unfair. It's a private thing.”

“Now you're just being cruel. I'll pray to the Lady for your redemption.”

“That's very kind.”

She stood close to him, still smiling sweetly. “So are you off up to the caves?”

“Er, yeah. One or two of the others said they might go in. I thought I'd see.”

“So when do I get asked?”

“I don't think Mother Lorellan would want you in the caves at night.”

“Pha. There's a lot of things the good Mother doesn't know I do.” She shook her hair defiantly, squaring her shoulders. The aggressive pose lasted a couple of seconds before she started giggling.

“Well, I'll pray she doesn't find out,” he told her.

“Thank you, Edeard.” Her hand rubbed playfully along his arm. “Who'd have thought it just a few years ago? Both of us happy. And you, one of the lads now.”

“I was in a fight before they accepted me.”
I killed people.
Even now he could still see the face of the bandit before the man smashed into the tree, the astonishment and fear.

“Of course you were; that's a typical boy thing. That's why you're going into the caves again tonight. We all have to find a way to live here, Edeard. We're going to be in Ashwell for a long, long time.”

He could not answer, just gave her a fixed smile.

“And watch out for that Zehar. She's already bragging how she intends to have you. She was very descriptive for a baker's apprentice.”

“She. Is? She wants …?”

Salrana's face was devilsome. “Oh, yes.” She blew him a kiss, giggling. “Let me know the details. I'm dying to know if you can really do such wicked things.” Then her back was to him, her skirt held high by both hands, and she went racing down the slope, giggling all the way.

Edeard let out a long breath. His emotions were as unsteady as his legs. If there was ever a reason to stay in Ashwell, he was looking at it. His farsight followed her long after she had turned a corner onto the main street, making sure she was safe as she ran along on her errand.

         

There were a number of caves burrowing into the cliffs behind Ashwell. A lot of them had been expanded over the decades, modified into storerooms for the long winter months, where the temperature and moisture hardly varied. Several of the larger ones were used as barns. Edeard was not interested in those. Instead, he headed for a small oddly angled fissure in the rock on the western end of the cliff only thirty yards from where the encircling wall began. He had to scramble up a pile of smoothed boulders to reach it, then grip the upper lip and swing himself into the darkness. Anyone larger than he would have real trouble passing through the gap; he'd be able to use it for only another year or so. Once he was inside, the passage opened up and the soft background babble of the village's longtalk cut off abruptly. His immediate world contracted to a dank gloomy blackness; even his farsight ability could not perceive through such a depth of rock. All he could sense was the open cavity around him. Only after he had gone around a curve did he see a glint of yellow light ahead.

Seven apprentices were gathered in the narrow cave with its high crevice apex, sitting around a couple of battered old lamps whose wicks were chuffing out a lot of smoke. Their talk stopped as he entered, then their smiles bloomed in welcome. It was a gratifying sensation of belonging. Even Obron raised a cheery hand. Fahin beckoned him over. Edeard was very conscious of Zehar watching him with a nearly feline intent and gave her a nervous grin. Her answering smile was carnivorous.

“Didn't think you were coming,” Fahin said.

“I got delayed slightly,” Edeard explained. He opened his bag and pulled out the large wine bottle, which earned him some appreciative whistles as he held it up.

Fahin leaned in closer. “Thought you were running scared of Zehar,” he murmured in a knowing whisper.

“Sweet Lady, has she told everyone but me?”

“I overheard it from Marilee. She was trying to get Kelina to take some vinak juice from Seneo's pharmacology store. I assumed you were party to it.”

“No,” Edeard growled.

“Okay. Well, should the need arise, and I do mean
rise,
just ask me. I can get you a phial without anyone being any the wiser, especially Seneo.”

“I shall remember it well, thank you.”

Fahin nodded as if unconcerned, the attitude confirmed by his passive surface thoughts. He unbuckled his ancient physick satchel and took out some dried kestric leaves. The pair of them became the center of some not very subtle attention from the other apprentices in the cave.

Edeard shifted position and opened the wine. It was dark red, which Akeem always claimed was a sign of quality. Edeard was never certain; all the wine available in Ashwell had a strong taste that lingered well into the next day. He supposed he would get used to it eventually, but as for actually liking it … “Fahin, where do you see yourself in fifty years?”

The tall doctor's apprentice glanced up from the little slate pestle he was preparing. “You're very serious tonight, my friend. Mind you, she does have that effect on people.”

For an instant Edeard thought he was talking about Salrana. Then Fahin's eyes glanced over at Zehar, a movement amplified by his oversize lenses.

“No,” Edeard said irritably. “Seriously, come on: fifty years' time. What are you working toward?”

“Why, I'll be the doctor, of course. Seneo is actually a lot older than most people realize. And she says I am her most promising apprentice in decades.” He began grinding the kestric leaves with smooth easy motions of the mortar.

“That's it? Village doctor?”

“Yes.” Fahin was not looking at Edeard anymore. His thoughts took on an edge. “I'm not like you, Edeard; Honious take me, I'm not even like Obron. I'm sure you're going to build our Eggshaper Guild to greatness over the next century. You'll probably be Mayor inside thirty years. Ashwell's name will spread, people will come, and this land will flourish once again. We all hope that from you. So given the circumstances, village doctor and your friend in such times is no small goal, after all.”

“You truly think I will do that?”

“You
can
do it.” Fahin mashed the last flakes of leaf into a thin powder. “Either that or you'll lead a barbarian army to sack Makkathran and overthrow the old order. You have the strength to do either. I saw it. We all did. That sort of strength attracts people.”

“Don't say that,” Edeard said. “Not even in jest.”

“Who's jesting?” Fahin poured the kestric powder into a small white clay pipe, adding some tobacco.

Edeard stared at his friend in some alarm.
Is this what people think? Is this why I make them nervous?

“You know the gate guards say they still farsight your fastfoxes at night sometimes,” Fahin said. “Do you keep them out there?”

“What? No! I sent it away when we got back. You were with me; you saw me do it. And how would the guards know that, the old fools? They're asleep most of the night, anyway, and they can't tell one animal from another at any distance.”

“These fastfoxes have collars.”

“They're not mine!” he insisted. “Wait, there's more than one? You know I only mastered one. When did they see them?”

Fahin struck a match and sucked hard on his pipe stem, pulling the flame down into the bowl. “I'm not sure,” he said as he puffed out some smoke. “A couple of months now.”

“Why did nobody tell me? I could find out if they are real.”

“Why indeed?” The match went out, and Fahin took a deep drag. Almost immediately, his eyes lost focus.

Edeard stared at his friend with growing dismay. They all gathered here for a drink and a smoke and talk, just as apprentices had done since Ashwell was founded. But lately Fahin was smoking on a nearly nightly basis. It was a habit that had grown steadily ever since they got back from the Witham caravan.

“Sweet Lady,” Edeard muttered as the other apprentices came over.
Maybe leaving this place is the right thing to do.
Fahin passed the pipe to Genril. A smiling Zehar held out a hand for Edeard's wine. He deliberately took a huge swig before handing it over.

         

The first thing Edeard did when he woke up was retch horribly. When he tried to turn over, he banged his temple hard on cold floorboards. It took a moment to realize it, but he was not lying on his nice soft mattress; for some reason he was sprawled on the floor beside the cot, still fully dressed apart from one boot. And he stank!