Survivors: Book 4 Circles of Light series, page 13
She hopped down from the rock and stepped daintily towards the fire on which Pallin was brewing the morning tea. She rested a tiny hand on Sket’s arm.
‘You will guard me now please, knowing the Dragons and my siblings guard Tika?’
Pointed white teeth showed in a quick smile and her head tilted quizzically at Tika’s personal guard. He jerked a nod at the gijan.
‘She’ll be safe with them and you’ll be safe with me.’
Once back on the main trail, they made good speed - when they’d devised a means of packing Tika’s boots to save Leaf from blisters. Brin mind spoke them regularly, telling them Tika was deeply ashamed but as yet unready to communicate directly. She felt she had let them down by succumbing to her feelings. Brin told them also that they had seen Harbour City ahead of them and he relayed a mental picture to the company. All, including Ren, were dumbfounded at the endless sprawl of buildings lining a great curve of coastline.
‘Storm longs to reach the sea again,’ Brin said. ‘I believe we will have to stay near the outermost edges of this place but do not worry: we can find you by your mind signatures quickly enough should you need our presence.’
‘I sense the use of power within this place,’ Seela added. ‘It seems concentrated in a large group of shelters built high set on the sunrise side of the City.’
‘We will be wary,’ Ren assured them.
Khosa was content to be carried by anyone who offered as they made the final approach to Harbour City. They found many tracks joined into the one they walked now and there were far more people and wagons around them. Khosa, from her position high on Gan’s shoulder, peered down her short nose at the sight of Kephis clinging to sacks on carts and scuttling underfoot. One trader with whom they walked for a league, showed a great interest in Khosa. He was a well dressed man, middle aged, with jewelled rings winking on every finger and in his ears.
‘I have never seen a cat quite that shade,’ he remarked. ‘Is it for sale?’
‘That would greatly depend on the price,’ Gan began, then winced as claws dug deep into his neck. ‘She is much valued you see.’
‘I would pay well for such a rarity,’ the man pressed. He dug in a pocket in his robe and gave Gan a small wooden disk. There was a long legged white bird painted on one side with a fish beneath it. ‘Come to my trading house should you reconsider. Anyone will tell you where it is in the business quarter.’
He slowed his pace to talk to another similarly dressed man who had joined the throng from yet another side trail.
‘We could do with some coin,’ Maressa remarked.
Khosa began a wailing growl. She spat when Maressa turned innocent eyes up to her.
They spent most of a day walking, with fields to either side of them: as Olam had predicted such a vast City needed a great supply of foodstuffs. Several times they were pressed to the sides of the track and squads of armsmen, dressed in brown trousers and shirts with jerkins of hardened leather, passed by at a steady trot. The noise increased: goats, hens, the strange cries of the many harnessed donkeys, creaking wheels, children’s yells and men’s shouts. Leaf was clinging to Ren’s arm, their faces well hidden within the hooded cloaks. They had found no place to rest at midday and the gijan’s feet were rubbed sore.
Gan was fully aware of the sidelong glances many people gave when they saw the two cloaked figures. He nodded to Olam to close up on each side of Ren and Leaf as they approached the great red wall that enclosed Harbour City. The track narrowed and the crowd perforce slowed their pace. Slowly they filtered through a gateway, just wide enough for two wagons to pass. Three armsmen stood casually to either side of the gate, scanning those who passed before them. Gan saw one of the armsmen on the left catch sight of Ren and Leaf. He leaned to say something in the ear of one of his fellows. Gan moved straight to the left and inclined his head slightly, his bearing and uniform unmistakeably that of an armsman of superior standing.
‘Would you tell me where I may find a temple of the Elder Races please? I escort two sacred ones but all of us are unfamiliar with your City.’
The three guards had instinctively straightened as Gan spoke and now the eldest nodded.
‘The first temple is in Peacock Way sir, second left after Dolphin Square.’
Gan glanced in the direction the man indicated and could see only a heaving mass of people, a jumble of buildings and balconies and the waving banners of market stalls. The armsman caught Gan’s rueful grimace and turned away, leaning into a dark doorway set in the wall.
‘Boy!’ he bellowed.
A boy of perhaps seven cycles popped out of the door.
‘Guide them to the Elder Races on Peacock Way.’
Gan held out his hand. ‘We lost all our coin on our journey – we cannot pay the child for his services.’
The armsman stared shrewdly up at Gan. ‘No matter this once I’m sure sir.’
Gan smiled. ‘I will repay you as soon as I rectify the matter of coin.’
The man shrugged. ‘A tin penny won’t bring me to ruin sir, but as you wish.’
‘Your name, so that I may repay you,’ Gan insisted.
‘Karn sir.’
‘Thank you Karn. Mine is Captain Gan Jal-Sarl.’
With another bow Gan turned and nodded to the boy. ‘Lead the way child.’
Gan’s immense height gave him the advantage of seeing where the child led them. The men formed a tight knot around Ren and Leaf while Gan walked close behind, his arm firmly locked round Maressa. The directions had sounded quite straightforward when Karn spoke them. But the route the boy took them twisted and turned through narrow alleys, wider streets and finally across what Gan guessed was Dolphin Square. Gan felt Maressa’s body trembling and knew he too was beginning to find the constant press of rushing bodies unbearable.
The boy darted through an archway and the company stood for a moment in a small empty yard. The boy gestured to the building beyond, its double doors open above a shallow flight of steps.
‘The temple of the Elder Races,’ he piped, and disappeared into the crowds outside the arch.
Pallin wiped his sleeve across his face. ‘I understand why Zenidor fled the place,’ he grunted.
Navan pointed at the windowless walls to each side of the doors. On both walls was painted the same symbol they’d seen on Zeminth’s token: a Dragon’s long face with flaring feathered wings to either side. These were well painted. The Dragon face to the left was black, its carefully executed prismed eyes slate grey. The feathered wings were silver with brilliant scarlet tips. The Dragon on the right wall was dark green, its eyes pale lemon. The wings were red, tipped with gold. They stared at these paintings while they regained their composure. Leaf stood on one leg, tugging off a boot. Sket helped her with the other one, then shook his head at the bleeding blisters across her toes and heels.
‘I can’t wear them anymore today,’ she whispered. ‘No one will notice I’m sure.’
The cloak touched the ground but as soon as she took a step, the high arched four toed feet were clearly visible.
‘Let’s see if Zeminth’s name is truly remembered here,’ Gan suggested.
He and Maressa went first, through the doors into a dim atrium. A narrow central aisle led them deeper until the side walls pulled away into a circular chamber. Hangings of threadbare cloth hid the walls but a circular plinth stood in the centre. Lamps and candles flickered round the short stone column amid scattered flowers. Five robed figures knelt around the stone, heads bowed. Another slowly swept the floor. The sweeper looked up and came across to them.
‘How may we serve you in the name of the Elder Races sir, lady?’
Gan cleared his throat. ‘Zeminth of the north sent us.’
The kneeling figures turned their heads then got to their feet.
‘Zeminth?’ one echoed. ‘Hariko Vos Nornay will be glad to speak to any who come from Zeminth.’ He bowed. ‘I am Taza, priest of this temple,’ he introduced himself.
He glanced at the sweeper. ‘Send a runner to the Higher Academy. Hariko Vos Nornay must know of these visitors at once.’
The sweeper hurried away and Gan moved forward to better view the column with its offerings. He spun back hearing gasps behind him. Taza was staring at Ren and Leaf’s shrouded forms in astonishment.
‘Sacred Ones,’ he whispered. ‘None have come to this City in my forty years of service. How may I serve?’
‘A bowl of tea would be a really good start,’ Pallin replied promptly.
Sket gave a vigorous nod of agreement.
‘Come,’ said Taza. ‘I should have realised – you must be travel weary indeed. We keep rooms here for any who need shelter whether they follow the Way of the Elders or no.’
He led them to a door concealed by a hanging and ushered them through. One of the robed ones accompanied them, the three others returning to kneel by the column. They found themselves in a comfortable common room, a kettle hissing softly over a small fire.
‘Please take your ease.’ Taza busied himself setting out bowls while the company sank onto chairs and couches with sighs of relief.
Sket helped Leaf to a bare bench where her feet swung clear of the floor and her hidden wings could hang behind. The robed one who’d followed them into the common room approached Leaf. She carried a large bowl of water in her hands and a towel over her arm.
‘I am Taza’s wife Zada,’ she said, kneeling in front of Leaf.
Sket reached for the bowl. ‘I will attend to the sacred one,’ he said politely.
‘No, no. We are here to serve and who greater may I serve than a sacred one?’
Before Sket could say more, Zada had dampened the towel and pushed aside the folds of the white cloak, reaching for the sacred one’s foot. She grasped it gently and tutted at the bloodied toes. Then she grew quiet, her hand moving ever more slowly as she stared at Leaf’s foot. Wide hazel eyes looked up into the depths of Leaf’s hood. Silence reigned as the company saw what had happened.
Slowly, Zada reached for Leaf’s other foot and bent her head to wipe away the blood and torn skin. She pulled the cloak back in front of Leaf’s knees and sat back on her heels.
‘Who are you?’ she asked simply.
A gusty sigh came from inside the hood and two tiny hands reached to push the cloak away. Zada’s eyes filled with tears as Leaf’s black wings shimmered half open, revealing the pale rose under feathers.
Chapter Eleven
Taza dropped to his knees. Pallin struggled to his feet and went to continue the brewing of the tea. Ren unfastened his cloak, laid it to one side and found he’d become the focus of Zada’s attention.
‘A gijan I recognise,’ she breathed. ‘But I know not what race you are sacred one.’
‘Human. Drogoyan to be exact. And I am no more sacred than Sket.’ Ren smiled, transforming the stern lines of his face. ‘My name is Ren and the gijan is named Leaf. Let me introduce you to all our company – beginning of course with Khosa.’
Khosa had jumped onto the bench beside Leaf and begun a fastidious washing session. Pallin handed round bowls of tea. Taza and Zada were beginning to lose their stunned look when there was a tap on the door. Before anyone could move, the door opened and a slender man of about thirty cycles strode in.
‘I could not wait for messages from Zeminth. Tell me at once of his -’ The newcomer froze, his eyes locked with Ren’s. He looked carefully around at the other faces until he saw Leaf.
‘Gijan?’ he whispered, moving slowly towards her.
Sket put down his tea bowl and stood close to Leaf, his hand on his sword hilt.
‘Fear not armsman. Never would I harm such a one.’
Gan rose to tower over the man. ‘I am Gan Jal-Sarl, Captain of the Golden Lady Emla’s Guards of Gaharn,’ he said formally.
The man blinked. ‘I have no idea who the Golden Lady might be Captain, or where Gaharn is in this world. I am Hariko Vos Nornay, scholar of Harbour City.’ He suddenly smiled, holding his hand out to Gan. ‘Not so impressive as your title I fear.’
Gan took the proffered hand in a firm clasp, returning the smile.
‘We were told by Zeminth to seek you out if possible. He thought you could perhaps aid us.’
Gan resumed his seat and Khosa leapt onto his knee. ‘He is strong in the power,’ she remarked.
Hariko blinked again. He glimpsed Taza’s expression and looked quickly at Zada.
‘Did you hear that?’ he asked them.
They nodded. Hariko turned his gaze to Khosa. ‘I confess I never thought to test species other than human. But to see a gijan!’
Hariko walked closer to stand looking down at Leaf. She stared back then unexpectedly gave a trill of laughter and said something in the liquid language she used with her siblings.
‘I give you gijan greeting Hariko the scholar,’ she said. ‘I am called Leaf.’
He sat down still staring at her. ‘Did Zeminth see you?’ he asked.
She laughed again and leaned forward, tapping his knee with a taloned finger.
‘Zeminth saw me. And my brother and my sister.’ She tilted her head first to one side, then to the other. ‘And he saw the Dragons.’
Gan wasn’t sure Leaf was wise to admit so much so quickly to a stranger but even he couldn’t help his amusement at Hariko’s expression. Hariko studied the gijan in silence for some time.
‘You will be safe here, at least for a while. You must surely know how I long to speak with you all.’ He chewed his lower lip. ‘Your cat spoke in my mind.’
‘My name is Khosa.’ She glared at Hariko.
He inclined his head. ‘Khosa,’ he repeated. ‘I sense all of you have that ability, and more. There may be only a very few of the ordinary people within the City with this gift, but it is common inside the precincts of the Higher Academy. I have my doubts as to what might happen should certain of the Mage Councillors hear of you.’
‘Nothing will harm my friends.’
Hariko froze, his mind filled with a vision of a silver blue Dragon reclining beside a smaller grey Dragon. Leaning against the blue Dragon was a girl, not much bigger than the gijan. A tangled mop of black curly hair blew round her face and she stared into Hariko’s mind with eyes like chips of emerald ice surrounded by silver.
‘I am Tika, soul bond and sister to Farn.’ The blue Dragon’s head lowered to rest on the girl’s shoulder. ‘Nothing will harm my friends,’ she repeated.
And the picture vanished from Hariko’s mind. He was visibly shaken. Ren, sitting next to him, patted Hariko’s arm. ‘A crimson Dragon named Brin sent you that picture from his mind. He is about three times Farn’s size. Seela is perhaps a touch bigger,’ he told him helpfully.
Maressa stretched out her legs in front of her and wriggled her toes. ‘We need to find a man – Namolos is his name. We know only that he lives on an island west of here. Zeminth thought that you may be able to assist us in reaching him. It is a matter of some urgency.’
Hariko absently accepted a bowl of tea from Pallin. ‘There are many tales of a man called Namolos. We have never investigated them, thinking them myths. I would guess most scholars and Mage Councillors discount such tales. A man surely cannot live as long as Namolos is said to have survived, unless his son – or great grandson – bears his name. Same name, different man? He is said to live twenty days sail due west but many ships have crossed that region and reported no land there.’
Maressa raised a brow. ‘Have any of you who are gifted with power searched with your minds?’
Hariko frowned. ‘None that I’ve ever heard of have done so.’
Maressa disappeared. Hariko sat back in alarm, tea splashing over his sleeve. Maressa reappeared and smiled.
‘Shielding is a simple matter of rearranging air.’
Ren demurred. ‘Your speciality is air my dear. I agree that shielding is not too difficult or complicated but it is immensely tiring to maintain over an extended period of time. If Namolos is shielding an entire island, what strength must that imply?’
Hariko’s hands were still unsteady. ‘You believe Namolos exists? That the stories relate to just one man? Some of the earliest date from more than a thousand years past.’
‘Namolos exists,’ Gan said quietly. ‘He is called Survivor, and seemingly, survive is what he has done.’ He glanced at Ren. ‘There is another member of our company who is the only one of us able to reach Namolos at this distance and he has told us of the island where Namolos dwells.’
‘Where is this other one?’ Hariko asked.
‘He is an unbodied mind.’ Gan looked a little uncomfortable. ‘We are never sure quite where he is.’
‘At present, I am here,’ Grek announced.
‘Unbodied mind?’ Hariko stared round the room.
Ren’s discarded cloak twitched slightly. ‘I am Grek.’
‘And you have seen Namolos’s island?’ asked Hariko.
‘And spoken with Namolos,’ Grek agreed.
Hariko was far from the confident assured man he’d been when he strode into the common room. He made a visible effort to gather his wits.
‘First of all, there are rooms above where you can stay.’
Taza nodded.
‘There is access to the roof and a way down from there should, gods forbid, you have need to escape. I think you should live quietly here until I can arrange a secure ship to take you westward.’ Hariko got to his feet. ‘As I have told you, I am a scholar. I declined a position as Mage Councillor partly because I prefer an academic life but also because there is a cabal within the Council. Some of them have become political, desirous of controlling the City for their own ends. I have also heard there is trouble from the east.’
‘Trouble?’ queried Olam.
‘The island of Wendla. The Wendlans use magic and have always spurned contact with any other peoples. I heard that Wendlan ships attacked four of our trading vessels.’ He shrugged. ‘There has been much activity in the Xantip Palace. Grand Harbour Master Chevra has been rushing in various directions. Armsmen are gathering both within the City and without. I will find out what I can and return here tomorrow.’
