The Heirs of Hammerfell (19 page)

Conn and the dog were walking a little ahead of Erminie in a remote street where there would be few people about and plenty of room to put Copper through her basic

exercises. The little bitch was trac-

table and easy to teach; she went obediently through each exercise, fortified by much petting, many kind words and a few tidbits of dried meats from the kitchen. Conn was winding up the training by letting Copper run hard on her leash, the sprint helping to clear the confused emotions he felt, when they entered a quiet street where one of the larger town houses was in the final stages of construction. He pulled Copper back to a walk, waiting for Erminie to catch up.

There they saw a robed group, the crimson-garbed Keeper at one edge of the circle, two green-robed technicians and a blue-robed mechanic, with a tall white-clad woman at the center whom Conn already recognized as a monitor. A few hangers-about in the street were watching, mostly young children or idle day laborers. A green-cloaked City Guard stood by, but Conn was not sure whether he was in his official function to keep order or whether he, too, was simply exercising a free citizen's right to gawk at any interesting thing in the street.

Copper interrupted the proceedings by rushing forward, barking joyously to welcome an old friend; Conn recognized the white-clad monitor as Floria, and felt the familiar yet shameful rush of love he always felt in the presence of his brother's betrothed. She briefly patted the young dog, then admonished her, "Good girl, go lie down, I can't play with you now!"

"Here, sir," said the Guardsman sharply. "You get that there dog away out of here; there's work being done." Then, noticing and recognizing Erminie, he added in a respectful tone, "Is it your dog, domna?

Sorry, but you'll have to keep her quiet or take her away."

"It's all right," Floria said. "I know the pup; she won't disturb me, not from over there."

Erminie spoke sharply to Copper, who sank down between her feet and lay there as

quietly as a painted plaster model of a dog. The Keeper, a slight veiled person―Conn was not even sure whether man or woman―although women as Keepers, he knew, were

very rare, so that the Keeper was probably a man of very effeminate appearance or an emmasca―stood by patiently waiting as the interruptions were disposed of, then with a flick of the head gathered the circle together again. Conn could see―and feel―the strands binding them together, the invisible bonds that wove between the circle of telepaths, artificially linked by the matrix crystals.

And although he had never seen or felt anything like it before, he had no doubt or hesitation about what was happening. Without knowing how he did it, or even being aware that he was doing it, he touched Floria's mind. Although she was totally pre-occupied, with a minute fragment of her consciousness, it seemed to Conn that she recognized and made him welcome, as she might wordlessly have summoned him into a room where she was playing some musical instrument and bidden him sit and listen

quietly.

He sensed with just a fragment of his own consciousness that his mother was there also, likewise relegated to watching from the sidelines. Even the puppy Copper seemed

somehow part of this closely gathered intimacy. He felt comfortable, welcomed,

accepted―never had he felt half so welcome or ac-

cepted, though not one of them even raised their eyes to see Conn, or paid the faintest attention to him; by their outward demeanor, not one of them acknowledged he was

there.

The Keeper, having joined them together in some manner that Conn was not yet able to understand fully, somehow directed their attention to a heap of building materials at the edge of the street, then gathered their strength―at this point Conn wholly lost track of what was happening―his perception blurred into blue glare as if his starstone were a crystal before―or inside―his eyes. The huge pile of building materials began to rise in the air. Though it was only a loosely piled heap of shingles, they did not slip or slide on one another, but somehow clung as if they were all glued together one to the others. Into the air the pile rose, higher and higher, and Conn felt the "Keeper aiming it so that, within a few seconds, the great heap was balanced on the flat part of the roof, where the workers, without any fuss at all, began pulling it apart and laying the shingles to nail them into their proper places. The taut concentrated circle then seemed to drop apart like the shingles themselves. Floria said to the Keeper in a low voice, "Any more?"

"No." The Keeper responded. "Not until the pavings in the castle court are ready to be laid. That was the last, and we'd have done it last night except for the rain. We'll have to set the glass in the conservatory in a few days; but no hurry about all that once the roofs on. I talked to Martin Delleray yesterday; the paving can't be put in till they have a gardener come and see about the shrubbery. He'll let us know in good time."

"This part of the city is growing fast; we'll have more streets to put in next spring when the snows melt."

One of the technicians grumbled, "I don't like construction work; and there is talk in the city that we are taking away honest work from woodworkers and builders."

"No such thing," said the Keeper, "when we can do in half a day what it would take all manner of heavy equipment to do; and how's it to be moved into this part of town? As much as people grumble they would be grumbling more, never doubt it, if we weren't here to do this work."

"More likely someone grudges our fees," said the other technician. "There's hardly a paving laid here by hand, or a pane of glass set. Lifting materials with ropes and pulleys not only wastes energies, but endangers the passersby."

This was a facet of laran which had never occurred, even briefly, to Conn. I wonder if this is how we can rebuild Hammerfell? It had never occurred to him l)ii t that it would take a crew of stoneworkers countless years to raise the burned-out shell of his castle from the ruins; with laran workers, like this, Hammerfell might rise again in less time than he had ever believed possible. While he was thinking it over, Floria raised her eyes and smiled at him and his mother. She beckoned to Copper, who burst from her obedient silence and hurled herself at Floria, licking her hands.

"And what a good, quiet dog you are," Floria said, caressing her. "Erminie, you have trained her as well as Jewel; soon she will be well-trained enough to lie at our feet in the circle itself! Good dog, good, good

dog," she repeated to the puppy, petting and stroking her, while Copper licked her hands lovingly.

"Conn is training this one," Erminie said, "and I brought him here to observe the more public work of a matrix circle; he knows little about laran, because of his upbringing.

But he's ready for training― and after that for a place in a circle, at least for a time."

The Keeper, raising a pallid face dominated by large luminous eyes, turned to Conn with a questioning gaze. "I touched you when we were actually within the circle; are you certain you have had no training before this? I thought perhaps you might have worked in the mountains with the people at Tramontana."

Conn repeated his denial. "None whatever; before I came to Thendara I never had a starstone in my hands."

"Sometimes the kind with natural gifts make the best matrix workers," the Keeper said, and thrust out a bony hand to shake Conn's. "I shall be happy to welcome you among us.

I am Renata of Thendara."

Conn knew that this kind of address was limited to Keepers, and it was a shock to find a woman―even though, he supposed, the Keeper was not really a woman but an

emmasca―among them.

Erminie said with a deprecating laugh, "Well, I failed with Alastair, my older son; he had not the potential. So I suppose I deserve all the more success with this one."

"Without a doubt," said Renata gently, "I can tell that after training he will be a credit to us. Since he cannot work in your circle, Erminie, I will welcome him to mine."

Conn was surprised to see his mother color with pleasure. "Thank you, Renata; that is gracious of you."

Floria, still standing beside Conn, said softly, "Will you come to us in the Tower, then? It will be a pleasure to help with your training, brother-in-law."

"The pleasure, I assure you, will be mine," said Conn, and turned to hide the flush he felt heating his face.

As they walked together, following the members of the circle who had turned down a street which would bring them back toward the Tower, she turned to him and said, "It has been a busy season . . ."

"It has indeed," Conn murmured. His life had changed so radically in a few short tendays, more than he could ever have believed possible."

Although his name had not been mentioned, Alastair was in their thoughts and they both fell silent; it was as if he were there, standing between them. Conn's thoughts darkened, and Floria seemed to withdraw as they followed the little party of matrix workers some steps ahead.

She said aloud, "I wonder what Alastair is doing now?"

"Since he rode off on my horse?" said Conn with a forced laugh. "You are a telepath; can't you reach him?"

She said, lowering her eyes, "Not really; a glimpse, no more. Perhaps if we were lovers .

. . but even then it would not be easy at such distance. You are his twin . . . that is the strongest bond."

"Then, if you wish, I will search," said Conn. "Though I have never before consciously sought him." He laid a hand on the starstone his mother had

given him, which hung in a small silken bag tied on a ribbon round his neck. He had had so many glimpses of Alastair without any such help, he never doubted that he could see Alastair now.

When it came, it was nothing like the dreamlike pictures he had so many times caught of his twin. Did the starstone act as an amplifier? He did not know; but all round him were the familiar tall trees, the smell of evergreens,, the sighing winds and skies of his whole life before this. And another smell which filled the heart of any mountain-bred man with dread and panic: fire! Somewhere near his twin, and within Alastair's

perceptions, fire raged in the Hellers.

Standing in the quiet street of Thendara, Conn discovered his heart was pounding so hard he could feel the blood racing in his veins. What was burning? And where? It was not here, though the smell of fire and burning leaves made him feel dizzy and sick.

Erminie, turning, knew at once what they were attempting. Under ordinary

circumstances she would have paid no attention, allowing the young people to do as they would. But Conn's pale face was too frightened. She came quickly back toward the two young people. They had come through the streets to where the Tower loomed only a

little way away.

Erminie laid her hand so lightly on Conn's wrist that she attracted his attention with the least possible interruption or shock. She said quietly, "Inside the Tower it will be simpler to finish what you have begun―-and with less danger, Conn, for either of you."

It had never occurred to Conn that what he had done so often, without even owning a starstone, could be in any way dangerous, either for him or Alastair.

But the strangeness, this new sense of urgency and danger, disarmed him; he said quite meekly that he would be glad of a cup of wine, and came inside with them.

The wine was brought and poured, but as Conn sipped at it he had the most fearful sense of urgency; he wished that all these people would go away and let him get back to the search for his brother.

He took no part in the light social cross talk and banter which accompanied the drinking; he drank oft the wine when it was put in this hand, almost without tasting it. He was unconscious of Renata drawing them all together again through the matrix; he was too new to this to have developed the detachment which protected the matrix worker from dangerous emotional involvement in what he was doing. He was already too emotionally involved; it was his brother, his land, his people. . . .

The Keeper Renata, who understood this interplay of stresses better than anybody alive, watched with a detached sadness, but made no effort to alter his natural approach; when he was better trained, he would have a more balanced and less passionate method of working, but for that skill, Conn would have to sacrifice some of his youthful intensity.

Fiona gestured to Conn. "Link with me; together I am sure we can find him."

Again, gently, the broken link reforged. Surprisingly, what Conn saw first was the face of his fosterfather Markos, and through his eyes looked on Alastair. The smell of smoke and fire was physically distant but seemed somehow to dominate their every thought as it dominated the countryside with the immanence of any violence of nature. No more to be

ignored than a tornado or a tidal wave, it licked constantly around the edges of their thoughts, nibbling away at confidence and courage.

Alastair, he knew, was angry.

"What is this that you are telling me? That I must go, after all these years of blood feud, and fight to save the property of this man who killed my father and so many of my ancestors? Why? Isn't it better for all of us if it burns him out and be damned to him?"

Markos stared. "I am ashamed of you," he said sharply. "What upbringing did you have that you can say that?" he demanded. Conn, too, felt ashamed of his twin for such ignorance, unbelievable in any mountain man. Fire-truce was the first fact of life in forested country. All other considerations, whether kinship's dues or blood feud, all were suspended during the forest-fire season in the Hellers.

Then Conn remembered; how could he have expected Alastair to know?

Markos answered as Conn would have, and Conn somehow felt responsible for all that he had neglected to explain to his twin.

"Tomorrow your own slopes may be burning and you will need to know that Storn―or anyone else who may be present―will help to defend you. As you should know."

He added in a more conciliatory tone, "You're weary and you have ridden a long way.

Time enough when you've slept a bit and eaten something."