Six Heirs (25 page)

“He said Rey? Not Mess?”

“No, no, Rey. It even seemed particularly important to him.”

“Do you think it’s possible?” Corenn asked Grigán.

“We’ll see later,” he grumbled. “So, Yan, are there still a lot of things we don’t know?”

“I was going to tell you afterwards,” he answered, a little annoyed. “I think the most urgent matter is to save your Arque friend, right?”

“It’s not looking good,” Léti pointed out.

They went quiet for a few moments, during which Grigán began pacing again, juggling his blade in the air. He didn’t even seem to be aware of his own skill.

“Well,” he simply said, stopping.

Then he immediately launched back into pacing back and forth. Yan noticed they were all waiting on the warrior’s decision, as if they couldn’t act on their own. He decided to relieve him of some of his exhausting burden.

“Master Grigán, what would you do if you were alone?”

The warrior finally halted, staring at Yan with a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“I would follow the trail. There might be some way to overtake the Züu.”

“So, go on then. Do it.”

“Three chances out of four that I’ll end up dead. But you’re the ones I’m worried about. I hate the idea of leaving you alone, just as I hate the idea of leaving them to massacre Bowbaq without doing anything about it. You can understand.”

“And if I come with you? Would that even the odds?”

Grigán stared at him for a few moments, undecided. The warrior wasn’t used to asking for help, he, who constantly offered his own.

“You make more racket than a red pig in heat.”

“I’ve come a long way,” Yan replied through gritted teeth. “If you want to know the truth, last night I heard you coming before you even started calling.”

He was lying, of course.

The warrior stroked his mustache again, with an absent expression. He was uncomfortable. Then he let out a loud sigh, having finally made his decision.

“All right, let’s go,” he said, as he retrieved his bow and quiver from his horse.

Yan did the same without a word, fearing that Grigán would change his mind. His heart beat wildly. This time, it really was dangerous. There was no guarantee he would return. He turned to Léti to forever etch her image into his mind.

He was horrified. Léti had dismounted her horse and was intently examining the fishing knife he’d given her.

“What are you doing?” he asked with difficulty.

She faced him with an expression of resolve.

“Can’t you tell? I’m coming with you.”

Yan’s thoughts whirled and smashed together like giant waves in a monstrous squall. He was prepared to die himself, but not to see Léti die. She had to live. She had to because he loved her. He loved her more than anything in the world. He had seen enough death up close since yesterday to become fully aware of how valuable life was. Léti had to live.

“No,” he heard himself saying, as if in a dream. “No, you’re not coming with us.”

“Yes, I am.”

It was the first time Yan had disagreed with her. She was saddened all the more, but too bad. It would pass. What counted now was to go and fight. To no longer be powerless in the face of danger; to avenge her friends. That’s what she’d
said: avenge. Make those murderers pay with their own blood. Even if it meant dying to kill only one of them.

“No, you’re not.”

Yan noticed he’d just raised his voice, which was out of character for him. Oh, well, it might help Léti come to reason. Why did she talk back to him like a stupid child? Didn’t she understand he was doing it for her?

“I say I’m coming with you. It’s not up to you to decide,” she continued, on the verge of tears. “No one can decide for me,” she finished, nearly shouting.

“You’re staying here, that’s it! Understood? End of discussion!”

Yan was seeing red now. Curses, she had to realize it, didn’t she? And, by Eurydis, did it infuriate him to watch her fidget with that stupid fishing knife! He had the urge to rip it away from her, but that would have only made things worse.

She was truly crying now. Ashamed and furious with himself as much as he was with her, Yan searched for something comforting to say. The words didn’t come, and it annoyed him even more. Ugh! As long as she stayed there, out of harm’s way, all was well.

He adjusted the laces of his boots and turned away from her toward Grigán, who was waiting impatiently.

Corenn dismounted and wrapped her niece in her arms. She was very careful not to intervene in the discussion, but would have done so had the outcome been different.

It seemed like all the children in the group were becoming adults.

It didn’t take them very long to find the giant tree, a Lirel tree that was hundreds of years old. Despite the precautions they needed to take, they had tacitly decided to move quickly in an attempt to pass the Züu.

Grigán soon found a use for Yan; he sent him thirty or so yards out ahead, but still within sight. This way they could cover each other with their bows if they needed to.

Yan feared that the Züu left someone close to the Lirel tree, but luckily there was no one nearby. He was also relieved when he passed in front of the tree and saw that he was right: sure enough, there was a sign in between the roots. He continued to advance until he was almost out of Grigán’s field of vision, and concentrated his efforts on keeping a lookout, while Grigán deciphered the man-made pile of rocks and plants.

Time passed and Grigán, standing in front of the sign, still hadn’t moved. Yan started to worry. Curses, did he not understand it, or what? If that were the case, their only solution would be to follow the Züu all the way to Bowbaq, hoping to bend the circumstances in their favor at the last second. In other words, they would have much less than a one-in-four chance of making it out alive.

The warrior finally emerged from his contemplation and signaled Yan to join him, which Yan hastened to do, filled with curiosity.

“You see the stick with the three notches? Grouped with those four rocks, on the left side, they indicate a point somewhere to the east, three thousand yards away. Three for the notches, a thousand, a four-digit number: as many as there are rocks.”

“And?”

Yan wondered where the warrior was going with this. It wasn’t his usual habit to provide explanations; there must be some other reason.

“The knotted branch in the form of a triangle represents a human. The stone placed outside the triangle, in front of the point, indicates a man in a temporary camp. If the stone had been on the inside, it would indicate a full household; if there were many stones, a community: family, village, city, depending on the case.”

Yan nodded. This all made sense with Bowbaq. He still didn’t get where Grigán was going with this.

“What’s more interesting is the little coriole’s skull. This bird’s beak is the symbol of Bowbaq’s native clan; why would he provide proof of his family’s clan here?”

Yan shrugged his shoulders. Maybe there was nothing to it? If they were ever going to find out, they should hurry up...

“I might have an idea,” the warrior continued. “Have a look at this.”

He removed the little skull from the pile. Beneath it was a plain black stone.

“I once heard, in Crévasse, the story of a clan that modified their signs to trick their enemies. I would have never guessed that it could have been Bowbaq’s clan. Or that the big, timid fellow would be bold enough to use the trick himself.”

Yan still didn’t have all the information he needed, but the faint smile creeping over Grigán’s face was encouraging.

“Ah yes: if I am not mistaken, we have to interpret all the directions of these signs in reverse.”

The two men smiled broadly. If Grigán were right, they could avoid a whole lot of trouble.

“We should hurry anyway. The Züu will turn around when they realize their mistake.”

The warrior carefully replaced the small skull. Not before, however, chucking the little black rock behind them.

Yan remarked, “Seriously, he might have been a little too cautious. If you didn’t already know about the cyclops signals, if you hadn’t made it all the way here, and finally, if you hadn’t thought of...of this trickery, he could have waited a long time!”

“It isn’t over yet,” Grigán cautioned. “I could be wrong. These signs are so complicated...I’ve always hated puzzles.”

Yan quieted himself. It was the first time he had seen the warrior doubt himself. He shifted his focus to the little Rominian compass and the approximate count of their strides.

They walked quickly for a while, anxious to arrive at the sign’s destination. After a while, Yan succumbed to his worries.

“Does it make sense that we haven’t seen another sign yet? The ones I know are usually repeated regularly.”

“If I’m right, yes, it makes sense. No need to lie about a sign just so you can reveal yourself with another one a few dozen yards away. If not, then I’m wrong, and Bowbaq is in the other direction. With the Züu.”

Yan didn’t add anything. For him, an entire trail filled with false signs didn’t seem impossible. But the warrior was already worried enough.

So they continued, compromising between the compass’s directions and the natural contours of the terrain. Yan thought that they should have warned Léti and her aunt, maybe even have brought them. After all, what they were doing now wasn’t that dangerous.

He brooded about all the things he had said to Léti. How could he get her to forgive him?

He stopped suddenly, as if struck by lightning.

How could he propose today?

Grigán shot him an inquisitive glance. Yan signaled that all was well and started walking again.

How could he even propose, ever? Right now, she was probably cursing his name for being so disrespectful. Worse, he had humiliated her. He had humiliated the woman he loved.

In the best case, she would ignore him for a couple of days. Worst case...despise him? Avoid his company, yell at him, and just quarrel with him? Forever?

Flooded in the cold rain of his thoughts, he took at least ten strides before noticing that Grigán had stopped. Dragging his feet, the boy rejoined him. The warrior was examining a new assemblage of rocks, stones, and branches that must have been another sign from Bowbaq.

“Apparently, you were right,” Yan commented listlessly.

“Maybe, maybe not. To tell you the truth, I don’t understand anything about this sign.”

He went quiet for a moment to think on it.

“If I translate it as is, it means ‘temporary camp of a man no yards away.’ But there is a less complicated sign that marks a camp, so that can’t be it. Maybe there’s something missing.”

Yan was going to make a suggestion, but something happened that prevented him.

There was a frightful clamor as branches were forcefully smashed against each other in the tree above them, followed by the loud sounds of someone falling behind them.

Yan turned around, trying feverishly to grab an arrow from his quiver. Despite his quick reflex, he had enough time to curse himself for not keeping one nocked and ready.

Grigán had been faster and was already aiming at the new arrival. He didn’t fire.

The first time Yan had seen the warrior, he was impressed. The man in black seemed—and was—formidable, seasoned, experienced, pitiless.

He was just as impressed standing in front of Bowbaq.

This man was gigantic.

He was at least two heads taller than Yan. But one saw people of this height every once in a while; Yan had already seen some in Kaul. No, it was the proportions of his body that were most striking.

Two men could fit inside the vest that hardly stretched around Bowbaq’s chest. His arms looked stronger than a bear’s, his legs more powerful than the tides. His excessively large hands seemed to have their own lives, for such fists couldn’t simply, stupidly, depend on just one being.

The man was wearing immense boots laced up to his knees, various skins and furs, an enormous metal bracelet, and he carried a frighteningly large bag in one single hand. Given how the sac was full to bursting, and its metallic reinforcement, Yan knew he couldn’t even lift such a mass off the ground.

The man had a head of thick, dark hair and a beard just as thick; his face, hidden underneath a hat, didn’t show much emotion. So, this was Bowbaq? the boy asked himself.

The giant dropped his sack and rushed toward Grigán, who lowered his bow with amused resignation. Bowbaq hugged him almost brutally, even lifting him up and spinning him around.

Yan was only slightly reassured. Next to the Arque, Grigán seemed so small, so vulnerable. The giant only had to squeeze his arms a little harder to permanently smother the warrior to death in a bear hug.

Luckily, that didn’t seem to be his intention. He finally let his “victim” go while continuing to laugh warmly.

“My friend! My friend!” he managed to get out between two thunderous roars of laughter, his eyes locked with Grigán’s. Then he couldn’t help himself, and dragged him about again in a very physical, circular dance.

The warrior made a halfhearted effort to reason with his admirer, but without much hope. Grigán shared in the giant’s joy, although much more moderately.