The Silver Lake (35 page)

“You mean you didn’t even talk to Her?”

Kemal shrugged. “She took me by surprise. Besides, what would I have said that I hadn’t already said in my mind before?”

“You might have asked Her why She came up in front of you like that. If maybe She wanted something of you.”

“I might have, but if She’d wanted something of me, She’d have told me so. Gods have voices, and I think you’ve already discovered that They aren’t shy about using them.” Kemal raised one finger in a gesture of mock seriousness, “Patience, young delinkos, time generally brings an answer to most of our questions,” he intoned. “Anyway, a week later I was chosen for the temple, so maybe She was giving me a heads up. Maybe She was trying to decide if I was worthy. Maybe She just wanted to startle me—even the Gods have a sense of humor sometimes. Who knows?”

Brax glanced back down at the waves. “I suppose. But
I’d
of talked to Her.”

“And what would you have said?” a new voice suddenly inquired

Brax looked up as Yashar dropped down beside Kemal, draping his legs over the other man’s with a contented grunt.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “Something, though.”

“Well, when you get the chance, let me know what words you choose. I myself usually find that I’m so swept up by the force of Her power that I can’t say much of anything.”

“It’s that way with most of us,” Kemal added. “That’s why it’s so much easier to speak with Her in our minds.”

“But don’t you ever feel like you need to talk to Her face-to-face?” Brax asked. “You know, with real words?”

Kemal tipped his head to one side. “Not usually. Why? Do you?”

Brax looked away with a shrug. “Maybe,” he answered, ignoring Spar’s equally curious expression.

“Then do it,” Kemal offered. “The first time you get the opportunity, speak to Her face-to-face. In fact, try to call Her up.”

Brax glared at him, trying to decide if he was making fun of him. “Just like that?” he asked sarcastically.

“Why not?” Kemal grinned at him. “She’s your God now, after all.”

“And speaking of speaking,” Yashar interrupted, “Kem, the barge-kaptin wants to know if we’re to carry on south or if you wanted to stop at Serin-Koy for the night.”

Kemal grinned. “The
barge-kaptin
asked?”

“Well, all right, she
might
have inquired
after
I
may have
mentioned it was your home village, but still, we wouldn’t reach Anahtar-Hisar until early morning and the delon could use a night’s sleep in a real bed. Couldn’t you, Spar?”

He smiled down at the younger boy who nodded shyly.

“And
you
could use a night of Bayard’s cooking?” Kemal asked in an unimpressed tone of voice.

“Why not? Just because you’re not fond of spicy meat, or too much of Bayard’s company for that matter,” he added with a laugh, “doesn’t mean I’m not. And besides, I doubt Cyan Company sailed right on through the night anyway, not at this time of year. They’d want to arrive in daylight.” He turned to Brax. “Anahtar-Hisar’s the only one of the nine village towers that isn’t built on Gol-Beyaz. It sticks out into the southern Deniz-Hadi Sea on a narrow little promontory. There’s nothing to fear from pirates or Petchans, but it’s rocky and often foggy so it’s always better to arrive in full daylight.” He turned back to his arkados. “You know that.”

“Point,” Kemal acknowledged as he rose. “All right. Inform the barge-kaptin we’ll put in at Serin-Koy, but this was your decision and you can tell Kaptin Julide that tomorrow.”

“Done. Look, Brax,” Yashar said with a wink. “There’s Orzin-Hisar, the site of Kemal’s life-changing meeting with Estavia.”

Brax turned to the western shore as Kemal shot his arkados a sour look. The tall limestone watchtower loomed possessively over the distant rooftops, with a low, fieldstone wall butting up against its sides, separating the village from the pale green fields beyond.

Brax squinted up at the tower, then swept his gaze along the distant hillsides, sharing a frown with Spar who’d joined him at the railing.

Kemal glanced down at them. “What?”

“Nothing.” He turned back. “Just ... where’s the Wall?”

“Right there.”

As they watched, a flock of sheep flowed over a low place in the village wall like a wave of woolen mist.

Brax shook his head. “No, I mean
the Wall, the God-Wall,
the one they built to keep out the spirits of the wild lands.”

“That’s it.”

“That? That’s
the great wall of stone and power?”

“Yes.”

“But it’s so small,” Brax sputtered, remembering the great, snaking structure from his Invocation vision. “That wouldn’t keep out a herd of rabbits!”

“Exactly. It only needs to be high enough to anchor the Gods’ protection in the physical world. Any higher and the farmers couldn’t get through to their fields and the animals couldn’t get through to the lake.”

“But what about the Yuruk?”

“As I said, it’s God-protected. Here.” Kemal took him by the shoulders and turned him slightly. “Stare into the sun, then look again.”

His eyes dazzled by sunspots, Brax blinked. For just a moment, the air above the wall shimmered with a silvery-blue-and-purple light, rising nearly forty feet into the evening sky. “Maybe, but still ...” he argued, refusing to be convinced. “No wonder they keep trying to bash through it. That’s almost begging to be attacked.”

“You think so?”

“Well, how many times have they gone against Anavatan?”

“Not many.”

“And you don’t think it’s because of the thirty-foot-high stone walls?”

“I rather thought it was because of the one thousand temple troops and the very well armed city garrisons.”

“And besides,” Yashar interjected, “I thought you told us the spirits were beginning to worm their way through Anavatan’s walls despite their great size.”

“They are.”

“So, obviously, size is not as important as strength.”

“I suppose. But still ...” Brax shook his head in disgust and even Spar looked bitterly disappointed.

Kemal just laughed. “Come on; let’s go tell the barge-kaptin she can put in.”

Frowning deeply, Brax stared indignantly at the wall one last time. “All I know is, I’d attack that, whatever might be protecting it,” he muttered. “I wouldn’t be able to help myself.”

“Hm?”

“Nothing.” When Kemal raised an eyebrow at him, he shrugged. “Really, I was just thinking out loud.”

“A dangerous habit, that,” Yashar teased.

“I know.”

Once the barge came closer to shore, Brax reluctantly pulled his gaze from the wall and turned his attention to Serin-Koy, a neat little village of wood and plaster houses to the north of Orzin-Hisar. Barns and drying sheds followed the net-covered shoreline, dotted with fishing boats, and a large, walled paddock stood beside Orzin-Hisar to the south. A troop of militia were shooting arrows into a line of stationary targets in the center of the village while beyond, farmers and oxen were still hard at work plowing up the western fields for the High Spring planting while sheep and cattle grazed beside flocks of geese and chickens in the newly green fields farther on, despite the lengthening shadows. As they watched, two children and a large black dog carrying a ball in its mouth vaulted over a low place in the God-Wall where it met Orzin-Hisar. Jaq immediately began to bark. The children stared out at the water and then began to wave enthusiastically, which just increased his excitement.

“All right, all right, go.” Kemal gave the dog a light shove and he flung himself into the water at once, reaching the sandy beach in a few powerful strokes. Spar looked apprehensive and Kemal laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. They’re old friends,” he said as they watched the two dogs bound up to each other, tails wagging madly. Beyond them, the children set off for the houses at a dead run.

“Bayard will have received our letter about Brax and Spar by now,” Yashar observed. “Five aspers says he makes the shore before we do.”

Kemal just shook his head. “No bet.”

“Who’s Bayard?” Brax asked.

Kemal grimaced. “My oldest kardos.”

“Kem’s the youngest,” Yashar added with a grin. “Bayard raised him after their abayon died of fever when he was four years old.”

“And you don’t like him?” Brax asked, noting Kemal’s sour expression.

His abayos shrugged. “Oh, I like him well enough, he’s just ...”

“Loud?” Yashar suggested.

“Loud will do.”

In fact, half the village was waiting for them when they put in, but moved aside as a large bald and bearded man wearing a blacksmith’s leather apron, a dozen years older than Kemal, pushed forward eagerly. He clapped his youngest kardos on the back hard enough to stagger him.

“Kemin-Delin!” he shouted, using the double diminutive that made the gathered villagers laugh and Kemal wince. “I wondered if we were going to see you this season, but when we spotted the company heading south, we thought we’d be disappointed. Yash!” He aimed a mock punch at the other man who took it against his forearm with a grin.

Kemal shot Yashar a look. “So they didn’t stop, Bayard?” he asked.

“No, I heard they put in at Kinor-Koy. That’s the birin-kaptin’s home, yes?”

Yashar gave Kemal the look back. “That’s right.”

Bayard turned suddenly. “So, these are my new kardelon?” he asked eagerly.

Spar took a step back behind Brax. Without Jaq by his side he looked even smaller and more uncertain than when he’d walked through the temple gates. Brax just stared up at the man evenly as Kemal nodded.

“Well, the younger one has Yashar’s eyes.” Bayard noted with a booming laugh. “But the older one has your stance, Kemin, all prickly and challenging. Come on.” He waved them toward the village before either Kemal or Brax could reply. “Your other kardon will want to see you, and meet them.”

“How many more are there?” Brax asked as a look of panic crossed Spar’s face.

“Dozens,” Bayard supplied happily from over his shoulder.

“Seven altogether,” Kemal corrected, and the older man shrugged.

“Only if you’re just counting
actual
kardon, dozens if you count the entire family. But really only five at the moment, I suppose. I mean six with Kemin home now. Zondarin left for Anavatan a few days before Havo’s Dance. She didn’t stop by to see you?”

“I imagine she had duties pretty much at once.”

“Point. Anyway, we’ll still have a full, welcoming house once they all come in from the fields,” Bayard continued as if the earlier subject had never been changed. “In fact, they should be on their way home any moment now.”

“For supper?” Yashar hinted largely.

Bayard laughed. “For supper,” he agreed. “So, Kemin, are you going to take a turn at the oven tonight?” he asked, grinning broadly as Yashar raised both hands in a gesture of mock horror. Kemal just smiled tightly.

“I wouldn’t deprive my arkados of your cooking,” he responded. “He’d never let me forget it.”

“True enough. All right, I’ll cook, you tend the fire. Come on.” Throwing one huge arm over Kemal’s shoulder, Bayard steered them toward the village. Spar and Brax trailed after them with equally apprehensive expressions while Yashar rubbed his hands together in anticipation of the evening’s meal.