The Singing (33 page)

And then a booted foot came down silently on the leaves an arm's length in front of him, carefully placed to make no sound, and at once a man emerged into visibility through the shimmering edges of the glimveil. He froze in midstep, taken completely by surprise, as Hem leaped to his feet and drew his sword, holding it steadily at the man's throat.

It was the tall, fair soldier they had seen at the gate. Hem lifted the sword so that its tip rested against the man's throat, and he saw his Adam's apple move as he swallowed. Very slowly, the Bard raised his hands palms outward, to show that they were empty. For a long moment, he and Hem stared into each other's eyes.

"Samandalame,"
said the man in the Speech. "I have been seeking you."

"I know you have," answered Hem, in the same tongue. "And now you have found us. But do not think you will leave this place alive."

THE man met Hem's gaze without flinching, and something in Hem faltered, and he almost lowered the sword. "I am unarmed," said the man. "I mean you no harm."

"That's hard to believe."

"I'm sure it is. But it is, nevertheless, true."

"A Bard needs no weapons to be dangerous," said Hem. He nudged the sword a little higher under the man's chin, so its tip pressed into the soft skin of his throat, and the Bard blinked, and swallowed again.

"Don't kill me," he said, his voice suddenly harsh, and Hem knew he was afraid. "That would be foolish, and you would regret it later. Wake Saliman of Turbansk. Tell him Grigar of Desor is here and wishes to speak with him."

Hem started at the mention of Saliman's name, and paused in dreadful doubt. "You know Saliman?" he said.

"I have no weapons," Grigar repeated. "I will let you bind me in whatever way you see fit, if it makes you feel safer. I understand why you do not trust me. But think: if I meant you any malign purpose, and if I knew where you were, would I come this way, alone, at night, to find you?"

Hem looked into Grigar's eyes and could see no sign that he was lying; but he was still full of mistrust. There was no reason to believe that he wasn't trying to deceive him, especially as he had been attempting to lull Hem with a sleep charm. If this man could see through glimveils and shields, why should a binding charm hold him? Hem couldn't remember the binding charm, anyway; he had never used it.

Without taking his eyes off Grigar, he mindtouched Saliman, calling him out of his sleep. Saliman was instantly awake.

What is it?
he asked.

Bring your sword,
said Hem.
A man called Grigar wants to speak to you. A Bard.

Hem felt the astonishment in Saliman's mind.
Grigar?
he said.
Are you certain?

That's what he said,
said Hem.

Saliman was at Hem's shoulder in an instant. He made a small magelight that floated close to Grigar's face.

"Samandalame,
Saliman," said the Bard. "It is long since we met. Perhaps your young friend could stop tickling my throat with his sword point."

There was a long, tense silence, and Hem sensed a connection between the two Bards, as if a ray of intense light joined their eyes, although he saw no such light. Then both Bards seemed to relax, and Saliman turned to Hem.

"Put down your sword, Hem," he said. "I can vouch for Grigar as a friend."

"He's one of the guards at the gate. He was
chasing
us. And he found us despite the glimveils and he tried to bind me in sleep." Hem hissed indignantly. All of them were still speaking in low voices. "How do you know he's a friend? He'll probably kill us as soon we turn our backs."

"Put it down." Now it was an order, and slowly and reluctantly Hem lowered his sword.

How can we trust him?
he said into Saliman's mind.

I have all but scried him,
Saliman answered.
And be sure, I was not gentle. If there were any trace of deceit, I should have known it. He is as he seems.

Hem kept the sword ready in his hand, watching Grigar with deep suspicion, as the Bard rubbed his neck.

"I thank you," said Grigar. "That was a mort uncomfortable. You have an apt apprentice, Saliman. I don't know how he knew I was there. I put such a strong sleep charm around this place that beasts must be snoring for miles, and yet he did not sleep. And he came for me like a wolf the instant I stepped through your shield."

Saliman smiled and, as Hem watched openmouthed, stepped forward and embraced Grigar. "I am deeply sorry for the hostile welcome," he said. "But perhaps you can excuse us for being a little wary."

"Of course I excuse you," said Grigar. "In this place, the deepest vigilance is not enough. All the same, I feared that I would be slain by the Light rather than by my enemies, which would have pleased the Nameless One more than anyone else. Your young friend has a deadly look."

"My young friend, for all his tender years, has walked darker paths than either you or I," said Saliman. Grigar looked curiously at Hem, and Hem met his eyes steadily. Now that he was less afraid, he saw Grigar's face was subtly changed from that of the bluff soldier he had seen at the gate earlier that day. He now looked more intelligent, more alert. More like a Bard.

They drew in under the deeper shade of the oaks, and Hem saw that Hekibel still slept. He thought to wake her, and changed his mind: she looked very peaceful. Saliman checked their glimveil and shield, and then his magelight brightened, so that Hem, Saliman, and Grigar could see one another clearly.

Saliman cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should make some introductions," he said. "Hem, this is Grigar of Desor, formerly of the First Circle, and a true Bard of the Light. And a long-lost friend of mine. I thought you were dead, my friend."

"Not dead, although that was put about," said Grigar.

"Merely . . . asleep, you might say. I have been, to most eyes, a humble goatherd in the outskirts of the Fesse for a few years now. I gave over my Barding when the First Circle became something that I did not want any part of. In this Fesse, to be poor is to be invisible. It has allowed me to ... observe things." He paused. "I was never more astonished than when I saw your face today, Saliman. I might ask what you are doing here."

"Trying to get elsewhere," said Saliman wryly. "And almost not succeeding. Am I right in thinking that you led our pursuers astray? I was mighty puzzled that we seemed to lose them so quickly."

"Aye. I am a respected tracker—quite rightly, I might say without vanity—and so when we lost sight and sound of you at the millstream, I was able to lead them the wrong way. At least, there was stony ground on the other side, so they believed me when I said that you had crossed the stream, and we made a wide search where I was almost absolutely sure you wouldn't be." He sighed and stretched. "I came back after nightfall, and walked upstream until I found your tracks. And have been following them ever since. It was no great mystery how I found you, young Hem; you needn't fear for the strength of your glimveil. Your tracks were clear, and I could smell the horses. And the sleep spell was because I feared that if I did not find Saliman first, I might be killed by his companions. Which was quite a rational guess." He rubbed his neck again, and Hem saw that there was blood on his fingers: he had cut him.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I honestly did not expect to find a friend here."

Grigar drew closer, so their heads almost touched. "There are more friends than you think in Desor," he said. "I am not the only one who has been watching with horror what has been happening here. I was only the first. But we must move quickly, Saliman; they will bring out the hellhounds at dawn tomorrow and they will find you. You are not safe here: the young man you killed, Hrunsar, is the son of Handar, the First of the Circle here, and they will be out for blood."

Saliman's face hardened. "He had an ill manner," he said.

"He was as corrupt a Bard as I've known, worse than his father," said Grigar. "I believe his father took him to the torture chambers when he was a child. You were unlucky he was at that posting; he was visiting a friend of his. Otherwise you would likely have got through without trouble." He sighed. "But now I propose to take you to the house of a friend of mine, a league or two from here. We must cover our tracks with every trick we have, from woodcraft to magery, and that is hard with two horses. The yellhounds seldom fail to track their prey once they pick up a trail, though on the way here I did everything I could to hide yours."

Hem wondered what yellhounds were, and decided he didn't want to find out. "Won't the other soldiers notice that you're missing?" he asked suddenly.

"I have a story. Do not fear for me. But we must hurry. You should wake your friend, who slumbers so beautifully. That was what I was hoping would happen to you, Hem."

Hem mindtouched Irc, waking him, and he grumpily flapped over to perch on Hem's shoulder, giving him a sharp peck on the ear as Grigar watched with lively curiosity. Saliman gently shook Hekibel awake. She sat up, alarmed, her hair tousled, and when she saw Grigar, she gave a low cry and covered her mouth, shrinking toward Saliman.

Saliman put his arm around her shoulders. "Don't be afraid," he said. "This man is a friend, and we can trust him. He is going to lead us to a safe place. But now we must be quick."

Hekibel blinked, but asked no questions. They swiftly dismantled their rough camp, and then there was a short delay while the three Bards worked together a weave of hiding charms to conceal from even the sharpest senses any sign of their presence. Then they moved off, leading the horses through the woods after Grigar.

They reached their destination in the cold hour before dawn. Unlike the others, Hem had not slept, and now he was so tired he felt numb all over, and the weight of Irc on his shoulder seemed like a stone. Once they had left the woods, Saliman had put Hem on Usha, and Hekibel mounted Minna. They went no faster, as Saliman and Grigar walked and led the horses, who themselves were stumbling with tiredness. After midnight a thick mist had begun to rise around them, obscuring the moon and stars. It was so dark that they couldn't see a span in front of their noses, and they were forced to use dim magelights. But although they followed no roads, Grigar seemed to know the countryside like the inside of his own head, and never appeared to be lost. Hem sank into a dull trance of exhaustion.

At last they seemed to arrive somewhere and he started awake, shaking his head to try to clear it. Out of the mist loomed the outlines of what appeared to be a ruined farmhouse, its roof slumped in decay, its stone walls crumbled with age and weather. Grigar led them around the back to a walled cobbled yard, where huge dockweeds nodded in the corners. Hem sighed. At the back of his mind, he had hoped that Grigar might be taking them to a place with beds—proper beds with linen sheets and warm blankets. But of course, he thought, it was too much to ask.

"You should dismount," said Grigar. Hem nodded, slithered off Usha's broad back, and stood shivering next to the others. He was cold to the bone. He stared at the ruined house: it was completely dark, with no sign of habitation. What now?

"Saliman, forgive me, I must ask you all to turn your backs and close your eyes. It is better if you do not see what I am about to do, and it will only take a moment."

Hekibel had said nothing at all on their long journey, and looking at her white face, Hem thought she seemed to be on the brink of collapse.

"I do not want to shut my eyes," she said. "I do not know you."

"But I do know Grigar," said Saliman, and he took her hand. "We should do as he asks." Hem felt a surge of jealousy; he would have liked his hand to be taken as well. He was just as nervous as Hekibel.

"Please, close your eyes," said Grigar again. Saliman turned away from Grigar, his eyes shut, and after a brief moment, Hekibel and Hem followed suit.

They heard Grigar murmur in the Speech, his voice so low that Hem couldn't catch the words. Then there was an indefinable shift. Hem felt it through his whole body, as if the temperature had changed, but he couldn't tell what had happened.

"You may look now," said Grigar.

Hem opened his eyes, and found that in that brief moment the light was completely different: there was now a rose tinge in the sky, a herald of dawn, and it was not as cold. Irc, sitting on his shoulder, gave a low caw, a mixture of surprise and pleasure. Hem blinked. Surely that wall had been crumbled ... He turned around, and saw to his astonishment that where before there had been a ruined house, he now stood in the yard of what seemed to be a prosperous, well-run farm. The door was open, and through it he could see a wide hearth where an orange fire burned low.

"Welcome to the House of Marajan," said Grigar. "There are stables to your left, where you can bed down the horses. And although I couldn't send word of your coming, it will not take long to make us a breakfast worthy of the appetites we have earned."

Saliman whistled. "I am amazed, Grigar," he said. "Where are we?"

"Where we were before, but in another time. So deep goes the Dark in the heart of Desor now, there is no place that is safe in our time. And Marajan, as you will see for yourself, is a Bard of unusual powers ... but quickly, I'll show you the stables, and then I will tell Marajan you are here. Just come through the door when you are ready."

"Are there beds?" asked Hem in a small voice.

Grigar laughed, and clapped Hem on the back so the breath rushed out of him. The Bard was a big man, with big hands. "Aye," he said. "And you will be able to sleep as long as you wish. While we are here, there is no hurry."

"I thought only Elidhu could take you to another time," said Hem dazedly, as they led the footsore horses to the stables. He was remembering how Nyanar had lifted him out of the unbearable present of the camp at Sjug'hakar Im. This place had a similar air of strange enchantment, of being somehow outside the flow of time.

Grigar gave Hem a piercing glance. "I am curious about you, boy," he said. "What do you know of Elidhu?"

"I met an Elidhu," said Hem, and then stopped. He hadn't meant to say anything about himself until he was wholly sure of Grigar, but in his weariness it had slipped out. He bit his lip, looking sideways at Saliman, as Grigar stared at him in astonishment.

"Hem, it's all right," said Saliman. "Grigar has shown us much trust in bringing us here. Do you think that he is not endangered himself? But come, let's talk later, when we are warm and fed and rested. I can scarce stand up."

When he entered the house, Hem felt himself relax for the first time since he could remember. It had the same tranquil air as Saliman's Bardhouse in Turbansk, although it was a very different place. They entered a stone-flagged kitchen, filled with a delicious smell that made water fill Hem's mouth. Grigar sat at a big wooden table with long benches on either side, and over his head dried herbs and onions hung from the dark wooden beams that stretched across the ceiling. A vase of deep blue gentians was set in the window, and there were red cushions on the benches. A large brick oven with an iron door took up all of the far wall, and a kettle was singing on the hob.