The Swans' War 1 - The One Kingdom (6 page)

"But Derborgil was a proud man and a warrior above all else, and he mustered his armies and set out for the borders of Sifore, who had offended him. It was a terrible war, long and with many men lost on both sides.

"To the despair of all, before each battle a dark bird appeared and flew overhead or perched upon Derborgil's standard and cried out whist once for every man who would die that day. The men dreaded the coming of the whist and its terrible count, but none would slay it, out of fear, for they believed it an unnatural creature. But Derborgil took his long bow and, before a battle, shot the whist as it came down from the sky, crying as it did, whist, whist. He cut off its wings and adorned his helm with them, saying, 'Now I am the crier of death.'"He led them into battle then, a terrible fight that lasted a day and a night and the next day as well. Finally Derborgil won through to Sifore' and slew him after a long struggle. But when he looked around he saw the field was silent and still. Only he remained of all the men of the warring armies. He knew then that his mother's premonition had been true, and he threw himself upon his sword.

"When those who watched came onto the field of battle to seek their fallen brothers and husbands, they found no sign of Derborgil though they had marked where he had fallen." Genn paused.” Suddenly, they heard a bird crying in the darkness, over and over, whist, whist.” In the land of Forlyn the crying of a whist is still believed to herald death, and though they consider the bird the worst omen they won't harm it, knowing the fate of Derborgil." Genn gazed intently at the three Valemen.” But your people misunderstand the tale. The whist only foretold the deaths, it didn't cause them. When the whist spoke they refused to listen." Genn looked around at the others, tugging her shawl close about her shoulders.” But still, the whist is not a good omen to your people.” The other story is older yet," Genn said into the silence, "but concerns our people. And the ancestors of Cynddl in particular, so I will let him tell the story." Tam thought Cynddl hardly looked Fael. His skin was almost pale, his hair gray and cut short, though his eyebrows were thick and black. He seemed to have no vanity, unlike the other Fael men and women Tam had known, nor did he seem to harbor any resentment toward the "outsiders." Though he had only been in the man's presence for a few moments, Tam had the impression that Cynddl was not much concerned with matters believed to be of import by either of their peoples.” The whist..." Cynddl began, his voice seeming too old to belong to its owner—a complex voice, so laden with experience that one believed it immediately.” The whist was an omen for our people, too, though of a different sort. In the days we now remember only in poetry and song, it was the whist that found us wandering the seas. We hadn't gone our separate ways then, but were all Fdel-scena, 'seafarers,' unlike the landfarers some of us have become. Invaders had driven us from the islands we loved, out into the open ocean.” Cynddlyn led our people then, and he was the finest sailor of his day. It was said he had once lain with a sea maiden and she told him the secrets of the sea. It is from Cynddlyn that my own family descends," he said, though more with reverence than pride.

"The supply of fresh water dwindled and no rain came to fill the sailors' casks. They were desolate and near to giving up all hope of finding land, when a bird came down from the sky to perch in the rigging of the ship, exhausted and lost like the Fael. Cynddlyn knew this wasn't an ocean bird but a bird of the land, blown out to sea.

"They watched him while he perched, resting, staying just out of reach of anyone who approached. And then he took flight again toward the horizon and Cynddlyn ordered his ships to follow. By day they could see the bird, dark against the sky, and by night they could hear him singing—a beautiful liquid pealing.

"After three days of sailing, on a night when moon and stars were hidden, the song of the bird changed to a terrible, forlorn cry: whist, whist. Cynddlyn ordered his ships about, but in the darkness and running sea his signal was lost and all but three of the ships were wrecked upon rocks.

"When the sun rose they could see, far off, mountains. Those who had heeded the warning of the whist were saved, but the rest were lost." Cynddl looked at each of the Valemen in turn.” And so you see the whist has not quite the same meaning to us. It led us here out of the trackless sea—those who heeded its warning."No one said anything for a moment.

"I have never heard of a man taking a whist for a companion," Genn said quietly. She looked at Tarn.” Have you?"Tam shook his head.

"It seems an odd choice, given the whist's reputation. Have you seen this bird or heard its cry since last night?""We haven't," Tam said.

Genn looked at Cynddl, and Tam wondered what passed between them, unspoken. She turned back to the Valemen.

"Well, we are satisfied these men-at-arms meant no harm to anyone else. Your people will be glad of that." The rings on both her hands sounded sharply on the wooden chair.” What will you do now that your boat is lost and your artifacts with it?" The three Valemen glanced at one another. No one had yet said it aloud.” Our journey is finished before it began," Tam said softly. He could see Fynnol close his eyes a moment, and when he opened them again he stared down at the ground. The Fael shared glances among themselves.” Perhaps it is not all loss," Genn said gently. She nodded at the young Fael.” Cynddl is a story finder—one of the most gifted I've ever known. We carried him north with us so that he could travel the river and gather what stories remain from the ancient kingdoms. We'd hoped to find boatmen in the Vale who would take him downriver, for Cynddl has no experience of fast water. It is his plan to buy a boat and pay the boatmen. I don't know if this would equal the price of horses, but perhaps you could consider it?" Fynnol glanced quickly up at Tam, hope kindling in his eyes.” We would have to speak of this among ourselves," Tam said.” Tomorrow would be soon enough, I think," Genn said, glancing at Cynddl, who nodded.” I knew them only as boys," Aliel said, "but I don't think their people would let them undertake the river if they hadn't the skills to manage it." The news of the brigands had silenced the camp that evening, and there was almost no one about. A cool breeze wafted down the slopes of the nearby mountains to wander among the tents, unwelcome.” What do you think of them, Genn?" Cynddl asked. Genn pondered this. It was like her not to respond to even the simplest question without thinking a moment first, She looked up.” I'm sure they are much alike, these Valemen. And at least two of these Aliel has known. I should think they will do."Cynddl shifted in his chair. Aliel thought him odd for a story finder—not quite so distant, almost warm.

"This journey I'm undertaking is not so simple, Germ, as you well know. I'm hesitant to take anyone along, and do so only of necessity. I go to find the stories of sorcerers," he said softly, "and even sorcerers long dead are dangerous in their own way. Did Rath not tell you that? The tales of some are to be feared. That is a lesson story finders have learned again and again. Some stories are best left undisturbed."There was no music or dancing in the Fael encampment that night. Armed archers walked the edge of the meadow, and still others stood guard over the road and the bridge. Genn might have said she didn't believe these men-at-arms posed a threat to anyone but Alaan, but it appeared she was not I really so confident of this. The Valemen's offer to stand guard I was turned down, and they rolled themselves in blankets beneath Cian and Ariel's cart.

"It is a chance to have all our plans renewed, just when we thought all was lost," Fynnol said.” How can we pass it up, Tarn?""Baore is the boatbuilder," Tam said.” Without Baore we all stay in the Vale.""Baore ... ?" Fynnol's voice came out of the dark. There was no response but measured breathing. Baore was asleep, or pretending to be so.

"I will see to Baore," Fynnol said firmly.

Horses moved in the dark, and wind pawed softly at the tents. Somewhere nearby Tam was sure he could just hear a couple in the act of love, and the sounds of the woman's pleasure would not let him sleep.

"Did I hear you speaking still?" a voice said. Cynddl crouched down beside the cart's wheel—barely a silhouette in the faint starlight.” I hope I'm not mistaken and have wakened you?" "We are lying awake, waiting our chance to steal your horses," Fynnol said. Tam punched Fynnol, then rolled on his side, propping himself up on an elbow. Baore shifted in his sleep but did not wake.” And I have come to offer you horses," Cynddl said quietly.” An offer you can ponder as you lie awake. I'm told that beyond the Wold of Kerns the river is easily navigable—even for a Fael who's spent very little time in boats. The Wold is also said to breed fine horses. Take me there and I'll give you the silver to buy three good mounts. I can't promise you the best stock the Wold will offer, but you'll have three horses that won't disappoint you. That's the price I offer for a well found boat and your skills as rivermen from here to the Wold." He paused.” I should warn you though: I won't make this journey with quite the speed you might plan to make it yourselves. I'll stop along the way and spend a few days here and there." "But what will you do on this journey?" Fynnol asked.” If you took as much delight in the words of others as you do in you own, Yynnol, you would've heard. I am a story finder. I'll listen for the stories of the race that once lived in the wildlands—stories that are only faint echoes now. I'll do the same here, at Telanon Bridge. I've spend this night out on the old battlefield, and tomorrow and the next night and perhaps the one after that as well. Who knows what tales I might find in such a place? Consider what I've said. Horses freely offered might even be better than stolen Fael horses. Sleep well." With that he rose and slipped silently back into the encampment. But none of the Valemen slept.

"THE RIVERBOAT is A SIMPLE CRAFT," BAORE EXPLAINED, "FLAT bottomed and without bent frames. If you'll both lend a hand we'll be afloat again in less than a fortnight. You'll see.""Afloat and carrying a perfect fool down the river," Fynnol said, then raised a finger.” But a fool with silver, thankfully.""He didn't seem terribly foolish to me," Tarn said.

"Well, what else would you call a man who sits and listens for the stories of a place to come to him? I had a great-aunt who heard voices, and we didn't glorify her with the term 'story finder.' She was mad, and no one was confused about it."Fynnol had been as good as his word, taking Baore aside that morning and convincing him that Cynddl's offer was too good to be passed up. Tarn was always amazed at Fynnol's powers of persuasion. His cousin would have his adventure and his gray mare. There would be no denying him.

They came to the Stone Gate—a natural wall through which a tunnel had been carved, closed at either end with iron-clad gates of heavy oak. To one side, a stone bluff rose, too steep to climb; to the other a cliff dropped away to the racing water below.

Despite the intimidating entrance to the Vale, the gates were closed only at night. They were tended by the Dilts family, who had long held this post; and though many thought they were less than diligent, in these comparatively peaceful times no harm had come of it.

They woke old Dilts, who was asleep beneath a tree, and told him their strange tale of brigands and murder, which did not seem to create the expected effect. It was soon clear he didn't believe a word of what was said.” I thought you'd lose your boat in the first gorge," he said, and went back to his dreaming. The three carried on, shaking their heads and hoping they could convince some other who held sway over Dilts, for there were men outside the Vale who viewed murder differently than the people who lived this side of the Stone Gate, that was certain.” 'A man too wise to heed warnings will die a fool,' " Fynnol said.” And a lesson that will be. We should go down to the nook at Dingle Shale. We're sure to catch a boat going north from there." "You two go down if you like," Tam said, "but I want to go by Delgert Gallon's and pay a visit." Fynnol lifted an eyebrow at this.” You think he knows more about our traveler?" "Perhaps. His was the only name Alaan mentioned." "I mark it as odd that he would know only an old busybody like Gallon," Fynnol said.” But then, who, other than ourselves, is worth talking to in the Vale?" Tam shrugged. He caught a ride on a passing wagon, and sat in back with a gaggle of giggling children, leaving Fynnol and Baore to look for a boat at Dingle Shale. Tam watched them disappear down the old road—two cousins, small and great, dark and fair. The wagon came at last to the road to Delgert Gallon's, and Tam took his leave, the children waving good-bye and breaking into song as the wagon lumbered on. Gallon was a tanner who had been driven from his trade by age and an increasingly foul temper. Tam had met him but once, years ago, but the Vale was not so large that people concerned themselves much with formal introductions. Old Gallon was asleep in a chair in his garden—a common practice this afternoon, it seemed—but one of his daughters shook him gently until his eyes opened.

Despite the careful treatment, he woke in bad humor and glared at Tarn.” And what is it you want?" he said sourly. He was a wiry old man, all bone, with muscles like taut cords tying his frame together. His cheekbones were so prominent and his eyes so deep sunk that he had a slightly crazed look, Tam thought, which suited his ill humor well.

"My friends and I were set upon by brigands at the ruin by Telanon Bridge, and a stranger who had stopped with us was murdered....""What's this you say?" The old man sat up in his chair, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with hands tanned like old leather. His daughter brought tea, staying nearby to hear the story.

"We were—"

"Now wait, lad. Set your story aright. Who exactly were you with?""My cousin, Fynnol Loell, and his cousin, Baore Talon. We had gone out to the old battlefield to look for artifacts, and last night a stranger joined us. He called himself Alaan.""Alaan!" The man shot a look at his daughter.” Not the rogue with the bird?""A whist, yes. He called it Jac."The man twisted in his chair with agitation.

"But who was murdered?" the daughter asked.

"This same Alaan I named."

She put a hand to her mouth, and the color drained from her face.

"Well, that is the first good news I've heard in a long time!" Gallon said loudly.” And I'm not surprised. The man is a rogue and a thief! Oh, he'd a honeyed tongue, that one. Played me for an old fool. Well, the river take him! That's what I say.""What did he steal from you?" Tam asked.

"Just every story I'd ever heard. He knows more about our Vale now than you do. Not that that's saying much, I would wager." He glanced at his daughter.” Had the best of my Lizzy and left her with child." "That's not true!" she protested, recovering a little.” The child is Kendal's." "Ah, he married out of pity for you and the child to come. More noble than smart, that is certain." Indignation appeared to propel the daughter from her chair, and she slammed the door to the house so hard a windowpane cracked.” He was here for a fortnight," Gallon said, only slightly deflated by his daughter's reaction.” Sat by my fire every night and listened to all the doings and stories of the Vale— charmed them out of me. And the whole time he was at my daughters behind my back. The miracle is there's only one child, and that one like his father, too—sneaking and sly." He shivered with disgust.” Dead, you say? Good riddance, say I." "But what could he have found interesting about the Vale?" The old man looked at him sharply.” Of course, I'm sure you know things that—" Tam cast about for something "—well, things I should likely want to know myself." This placated the old man a little.” Well, I'm not telling you, so don't bother asking. But I know things about the Vale and its people. I know that many a family name was not always as it is now and where many a family hailed from before they found themselves in this farthest corner of the world." "And that's what Alaan wanted to learn?" "Oh, more than that. He wanted to know which given names appeared in families again and again. Which families spawned the best swordsmen. He was terrible interested in who'd gone out to fight the brigands and roaming mercenaries after the last war. Oh, he had a lot of questions. He knew when he'd met a man who knew something of value." The old man slammed a fist on the arm of his chair.” Played me for a fool though, he did!" Gallon calmed himself with an effort.” But that's all over now. You're certain he's dead?""Yes, I'm afraid he is. We saw the men fall upon him with their blades. We were on the bridge, and fled down into the river. They chased us, too, but we hid among the rocks and they gave up looking. Stole poor Baore's boat, though, or sent it down the river.""Well, it serves you right for digging where you shouldn't and keeping the company of rogues. I'm glad you didn't get yourselves killed, though. You must be Adlar's son." Tarn nodded.

The man eyed him oddly, cocking his head to one side.” Hold out your hands," he said suddenly. Tarn did as he was told.

Gallon stared at his hands for a moment.” You'll do," he said grudgingly.” Did you see the hands of that rogue Alaan? I should never have let him in my door. Hands that had never seen a day's work. Hands not even fit for cleaning house. The hands a ... scholar might have." He said the word "scholar" with a disdain that Tarn thought would be hard to equal.

"But what was it that Alaan wanted to know? Surely what given names reoccur in a family would hardly profit a stranger?"Gallon eyed him suspiciously.” You think that useless knowledge, do you?""Well, I'm sure it isn't," Tarn said quickly.” I just don't see why some stranger passing through the Vale should want to know it."Old Gallon shook his head as though Tarn were almost too stupid for him to bother with.” Because families who've fled their lord's service in the wars change their surnames; but even so, given names are passed from one generation to the next. Who were you named for?""My great-uncle who died before I was born.""And who was he named after?"

"My great-grandfather, I think."The old man cocked an eyebrow at him.” If your surname had once been something other than Loell, a man might still find your family by knowing what given names your people favor.""I take your point, but not why Alaan would care about that.""Because he was like that bird of his: steal any bright thing it saw. Any bright thing belonging to someone else, it coveted." The old man sat back in his chair and crossed his arms.” But he'll be doing no more of that." The old man sighed with satisfaction.” Your grandfather is well?" he asked suddenly.

"Well enough."

"He's a good man, your grandfather, a good man." He sipped at his tea.” You were going off in a boat down to Inniseth. Isn't that what I heard?"Tarn nodded.

"Well, you're better off here. Take a lesson from what happened to Alaan and stay where you're welcome."Tarn nodded but said nothing, and old Gallon's attention seemed to wander.

They sat a moment longer in silence, and then Tarn rose from his chair.” I have to be going if I'm to make it home this day."The man nodded, not registering what was said, but then he seemed to notice his guest was standing.” Where're you off to?""Home."

"Ah Well, give my regards to your grandfather, and stay away from rogues. Come back sometime. I've four more daughters, and they're not all as misguided as my Lizzy, bless her foolish heart."Tarn's grandfather listened silently to the story, never interrupting. By the time Tarn was done the old man's face was grayer than barn board. He got up from his chair and wait to the big sideboard that dominated the room, his movements stiff and jerky. He poured them both a cup of harsh spirits, then drank his off in one swallow. His eyes were rd and watering when he lowered himself back into his chair.” Thank everything good and kind that you're unharmed," the old man said.” All of you. I lost a wife and a son and that's all the loss a man can bear in one life."Tarn reached out to put a hand on his grandfather's am, but the old man took the hand in his own—rough and hard from a lifetime of toil. His grandfather took a sudden deep I breath, almost a gasp.

Tarn was at a loss for something to say, and unsettled by I his grandfather's show of emotion.” Why do you think this man Alaan journeyed so far?" Tam asked.” And why was he asking old Gallon about given names reoccurring in families? Who could he have been seeking?"For a moment the old man said nothing, his face half hidden by a hand gently rubbing his brow. He lifted his cup to drink but found it empty, and set it back down—a sound like a door latch opening.” In wars, Tamlyn, men do things . . . things that haunt them the rest of their lives, if they have any soul at all. It is not always men-at-arms meeting upon a bright field of honor. Villages are burned; common people put to the sword. The men who perform these horrors are sometimes sought out. Vengeance is not the exclusive right of the Renné and the Wills. Alaan might have been searching for such men here—for his own reasons or on behalf of some other. But it seems someone else found him first."Tam wondered if one ever completely escaped the feeling that crept over him now: he felt like a stupid child. Such men could find refuge in the Vale? He tried to imagine who among the people he knew could harbor such a secret past. He looked up and found his grandfather's clouded blue eyes on him.

"You'll go with this story finder, I take it?"Tam nodded.” It's been our plan now for three years to travel downriver. I don't imagine we'll be set upon by armed men again. It was just bad luck that Alaan came to share our fire."The old man nodded and let go of Tarn's hand. He went stiffly to the sideboard to fill his cup again—then didn't. He leaned against the cabinet, taking the weight off one leg as though it pained him.

"If you want me to stay," Tam said suddenly, "I will."The old man shook his head.” New rivers find their own courses," he said.” I shan't be telling you where to go or not."Tam took up the cup the old man had poured him and tipped some of the grain spirits into his mouth. It burned like a hot coal.

"I've a calf to see to," his grandfather said, and plucked a hat from a peg, but just as he opened the door, he stopped.” Tam .. . ? If anyone starts asking you questions about the people of the Vale, don't be like that old fool Gallon—tell them nothing."Tam sat utterly still for a moment, then nodded. The old man went out into the clear evening air, and the door latch clicked closed behind him.