The Executioner's Cane (6 page)

When he reaches it, the will to act has left
him, but he takes solace from the feel of the emeralds at his side.
He notices the faint glow on his skin has faded. All he can do is
wait until he is strong again.

But when, by the gods, will that time be?

Second Gathandrian
Interlude

Annyeke

The elders were back. It was of course
exactly what Annyeke had been hoping – and indeed praying – for but
it wasn’t entirely welcome. Especially as she’d only just been
joined with her bonding partner. Still, Gathandrian women always
dealt well with the unexpected. She was not going to let down her
womenfolk.

It can’t be helped. You know we have to deal
with whatever the gods give to us.

Annyeke nodded her agreement. The depths of
Johan’s faith would never be hers, but she understood the
sentiment.

“What will you do?” he asked her, this time
aloud.

She realised both her menfolk were gazing at
her. She straightened her shoulders.

“I will go and talk with them,” she said.

Grabbing the nearest cloak – which she
suspected was Johan’s – she walked outside with as much dignity as
she could muster. Bearing in mind the state of her hair, that
probably wasn’t much, but no matter. She had more important things
to face than her appearance. In the chill morning air, she wrapped
her cloak more tightly around herself and was glad of its
comforting warmth. Glad also of the presence of Johan and Talus
behind her, the light touch of Johan’s hand on her shoulder.

The elders were as Talus had described them:
lined up in an open semi-circle on the road outside her home. They
could have been waiting there a lifetime and they looked as if they
would be happy to wait another one also.

First, she saw the longest-serving elder,
with his grey-streaked hair and the lines of age on his face. He
had acted, she knew, as a guide and mentor to the former First
Elder from the very beginning, and she wondered if he would expect
to offer the same role to her. She was unsure whether she wanted
him to do so. He came from the makers of glass and his works had
been the most destroyed in the land. The scars and memories he
carried would be weighty.

Next to him stood the maker of chairs. The
carpenter looked at Annyeke as she gazed at him, his bald head
glinting in the morning sun, his rounded body a contrast to the
delicacy of his fingers. He might have been about to venture a
narrow smile, and she nodded at him, but it did not come. Perhaps
it was not the time for it.

On the furthest side of the semicircle of men
stood the maker of gardens and parks, his long fair hair lifting in
the breeze which floated the scent of cypress-wood through the air.
Strong and bitter as the aroma itself, she wondered if he had kept
his anger at the destruction of Gathandria’s plants and trees
hidden deep under his customary veil of gentle humour all these
long year-cycles. The gardens were blossoming again now, slowly,
but would it be enough for him to be willing to help her? None of
them, herself included, had travelled this path before.

Finally, Annyeke turned her attention to the
one who never spoke, who was an obligatory member on all Councils
of Elders, but whose mind was intended to hold them all in harmony.
Such harmony as there might be, or that they could discover. His
family was from the makers of words, both written and performed and
she did not know if for him his silence was a liberation or a trap.
She would never dare probe further though, as First Elder, it was
her right to do so.

Of course there should be more of them, but
six were vanished forever, including the most recent casualty, the
former First Elder himself. They would never return. Annyeke
swallowed hard. Four elders remained. It would have to be
enough.

But how would they respond to her leadership?
And how could she build them up to be a true Council again?

She pressed her hand briefly to Johan’s where
it still lay on her shoulder, took a breath and stepped forward
alone.

“Welcome,” she said, surprised to find her
voice was steady. “It is good that you are back with us, people of
the Council. Many things have changed since you left and many
things have altered. But the land is beginning to heal, even in
this winter, and there is much that needs to be done. We need you
here.”

So much else she could say, so many
accusations filling her mouth. If she paid heed to them, they might
choke her. Because Annyeke knew that to vent her anger against the
so-called leaders of their land in a public place such as this and
in front of those she loved would be foolishness. Still, she
imagined even the Gathandrians crossing the other side of the park
might pick up her emotions and the colours of her mind at this
moment. Redheads weren’t known for their subtlety. Was this the
same in every land, she wondered?

She stepped to one side. They could start in
her home, whatever happened after. She’d be damned if she took them
to the old Council buildings, such as remained. After all, she was
First Elder and they would have to obey.

“Please,” she gestured at her threshold.
“Come in. We have much to talk about.”

Once the four elders were in her kitchen,
huddled round the small table, Johan and Talus headed towards the
garden and made themselves scarce. In one sense, Annyeke missed
their comforting presence indoors, but they were there if for any
reason she needed them. And, besides, she did not have enough
stools for everyone. In her new role, no doubt she would be needing
more. She stored that fact away for acting on later.

First it was evident more practical issues
needed to be attended to. She did not want to be cruel.

“I have corn-broth and water to offer. Bread
and the remains of yesterday’s stew, although it will be cold.”

“Please,” the Chair Maker spoke first, his
voice hoarse and spiky. As if he had either damaged it from overuse
or not spoken for a long time. “Your kindness is worth all the gods
and stars we know, Annyeke Hallsfoot, First Elder of
Gathandria.”

Annyeke blinked at him. She had not expected
he would be the first one to acknowledge her presence, let alone
the role she carried. She had thought it would be the Mentor, the
ancient one. The honour should, by rights, have been his, but he
had ceded it to another. This puzzled her, but when she glanced at
him, his lined face gave nothing away. No doubt many, many things
would be different now. Still, she couldn’t help but mourn the loss
of the mind-circle’s power, which had once given her access to the
elders’ secret thoughts. Not to their reasoning though – that
discovery had been entirely hers. Well, hers and Talus’ of
course.

She nodded her thanks for the Chair Maker’s
courtesy and busied herself ladling out the remains of the broth
and the stew for the hungry Gathandrians. They accepted it gladly
but in silence. She’d always thought the elders were a strange
grouping. She was sure if any of the remaining elders had been
women, they would not have acted in such a way. Still, she could
play this game also. So she waited until the food was gone and then
she spoke again.

“There is much to be done,” she said, gazing
at her companions, one by one. “You will need to tell me about your
experience at the praying tree and on your journey back home. Our
people need to hear us speak as one. There have been too many lies
already. I did not set out to take on the role of First Elder when
these wars began, but I have done so because I care about our
survival and the survival of the lands under our care. And because
it is time for women to have a voice. Up to now, whilst there have
been women in the Council of Elders, none has been given the role
of First Elder. So, I must hear everything that has happened to
you, in the mind, and then the five of us will begin this great
task. Sadly, it is not one which will give us back the world we
knew. We cannot return there. No, our task is to create our world
anew and, this time, to make it truthful and good. There will be no
more tears or pain, as far as we can prevent either. Instead, we
will be honest about our plans, as a Council, and we will listen to
our people. This is my desire. I hope it can be our desire.”

When Annyeke finished speaking, the four
elders gazed at each other and nodded. She heard their response in
the innermost depths of her mind.

Yes. You are right. You are First Elder,
Annyeke Hallsfoot. So, let us tell you what we have found. Link
with us.

She thought about their suggestion. The
mind-links between the elders were an ancient tradition. Part of
their privileges and their responsibilities, and their mystique. It
was the kind of link the Council had always kept hidden from their
fellow Gathandrians, whereas other links could be freely known
amongst the land if the parties to it were willing. This had been
where many things, in her view, had gone wrong. If the people of
this great city had known these same elders had planned all along
to let the mind-executioner go free, simply in order to bring the
Lost One, Simon Hartstongue, back to them and to usher in a new age
of peace as a result, would the actions taken have been very
different? Annyeke hoped so. She hoped the Gathandrian people had
enough compassion that if they had known what the elders were
planning, they would have prevented it. But, no, even this she
could not tell. No matter how much of a path anyone had into
someone’s mind, she had come to realise it was impossible fully to
understand another or to influence them unduly. People were who
they were, or who they were allowed to be. It had taken these wars,
the horror of nearly losing Johan and the unexpected pleasure of
meeting the Lost One to make her realise this for herself.

So she paused. She wanted to make the elders
accept her more fully in the role she must play, and at the same
time she needed to make things different from what they had
been.

Finally she spoke. Aloud, not just to their
thoughts.

“Yes,” she said. “We must link our minds and
offer a true leadership to our people, simply in order for the land
to continue its slow path to recovery and a new direction. But this
time we must find fresh ways of doing it. So, we will link, as is
the custom when a new leader is brought before the Council of
Elders, but we will do it in public, where our people can see. Do
you agree?”

A long silence followed her announcement.
Annyeke let it settle. She sat back on her stool and waited. She
hoped she wasn’t a fool; it was obvious that asking old men steeped
in tradition to change, even after so many difficult changes had
already taken place, would be a hard demand. They would need to
consider, but she wasn’t allowing them to leave until they had made
their decision. She permitted that thought to be at the forefront
of her mind; these men must make of it what they might. Whatever
happened, she wanted no more secrets.

Finally the Silent One nodded. He reached out
and touched her hand. His fingers were cold against her skin. At
once, Annyeke felt the strength of his thought colours in her own
mind: cerise; lilac; gold. And beyond those, the knowledge of the
other elders also, the four of them linking in ways she had never
thought to imagine. For a heartbeat out of time – no, more than
time, for it seemed to her time itself stopped while she reeled at
the visions filling her blood – she saw and felt the vast expanses
of the ocean and was transported across the far-flung regions of
the sky. The clarity of blue and a sensation of floating. And then
something else. Something other, overpowering her so she could not
cry out. She had experienced mind-visions before – who amongst
Gathandrians of-age had not? – but never as real or as physically
felt as these. Was there magic in the elders’ traditions she had
not understood before? Though how could she, when they had always
been so secretive in their dealings?

With a gasp, Annyeke tore her hand away from
the Silent One’s grip. At once the link broke and she stood up.
With all her being she wanted to walk away from these … these men,
but she would be damned if she would give them the satisfaction.
There had been something in the experience which gave a bitter
taste to her tongue so she could scarcely speak, let alone think.
What was it? The knowledge slipped away as suddenly as it had
arrived and she pursed her lips, steadying herself. Perhaps it was
nothing. They had taken her by surprise, that was all. Or one of
them had. She could not see how it could be the Silent One, who
held them together. It must have been one of the others. Well, she
would say what she thought about it and damn the consequences.

“Don’t ever,” she whispered, low and fierce,
her gaze taking in all the gathered elders, “ever do that to me
again. Because I have had enough – we all have – of people with
greater powers flexing their strength over us. I may not have the
mind-skills you evidently possess, I may not have all the knowledge
and mind-wisdom you have between you accumulated over the
year-cycles, but I have something you do not possess in any
measure. I have courtesy, and the desire to come to an equal
agreement over matters that concern us all. I state my case but I
do not force my will on you. You may choose whether you accept or
not the mind-requirements I have asked of you concerning what you
have done and what the people should know. If you do not, then we
will have to search for another way to help our land. And, let me
remind you. I may be a woman who has had little to do with your
workings in my life, but I have been bequeathed the role of First
Elder, and I will perform it to the best of my ability. With or
without you. Is that clearer now?”

When she finished, Annyeke expected either
more hesitation or more mind-tricks. She dreaded to think what they
might be. In the end the response was neither of these
assumptions.