Jano - The Journey Begins - Book 1

CHAPTER ONE
The wind was blowing fiercely from the south quarter, a dark presence made full by the rolling leadlined clouds that drank the light and chilled the air, smashing the surf against the beach like a smith's hammer against a plough shear; the sparks, the foam and spray. He stood at the top of a large dune, leaning into the wind to stay erect, hair streaming behind his ancient wizened face, eyes shut tight against the onslaught, towards the south, towards the vortex of dark clouds. The sand blew mercilessly against him in concert with the wind and the sea spray; minute cuts were already criss-crossing his face, hands and legs as the sand and sea grass slashed against him. He was the Watcher; his line has always been Watchers. Eyes weren't necessary and Morgan could see all, feel the evil on the wind; smell it in the ground. His staff, crafted centuries before from the oldest of Mage trees, shaped by the Masters of the Inner Set and blessed with all the good they could muster, started to vibrate and glow with a pure white hue. Morgan pushed with all his strength, sent a message on the wind; a harbinger. The Mage light glowed and flew from him like an arrow from a twenty-hand bow. As if in retaliation the wind screamed around him and a lightning bolt flew from the heavens hitting the staff, smashing it to pieces, the bolt was black blue not white and it danced around the Watcher like a court fool. Morgan screamed as the tendrils of evil attacked his very soul. He fell forward, smoke rising from his body, his eyes now scorched sockets, blackened from the fire that had boiled them away; every opening of his body smoked from the fire that had scorched him to a husk. Morgan was gone, the Sou' Watcher was no more and Old Herron, the staff of legend, was now just charred splinters on the wind. ***** The storm screamed across the Sou' Reaches, blowing topsoil away and replacing it with sand and salt. It had been doing so for days. Old Magla sat in front of the fire hearth that formed the south wall of the hut. A smoky haze filled the room. Some of it the domestic woods from the cooking fire and the rest, a combination of Huzewood, Castleweed and Cowspaw; all powerful shields. For years she had realised that her powers were weakening. Admittedly, by Inner Set standards, they were simple peasant magic, but to the plain folk of the Reaches, they were as much a part of their lives as the day and the night. Every man, woman and child accepted and expected the Gifteds; no unrealistic demands were ever made, everyone understood the Rules of Changing. At most Old Magla, and the people like her, was there to offer comfort and help in simple ways when people or animals were sick or crops thin on the ground. Be that as it may, the Gifteds were people of special powers and these powers, in Old Magla's case, were weakening. This she had put down to being an old woman. Most Sou' Landers lived to about two hundred and thirty years and Old Magla had done that five years back. Just lately she had felt a pressure building, a heavy dark feeling, attacking her conscious mind. She had grown so fearful that
Jano The Journey Begins - Page
she had started the shielding and all her strongest magic could do was offer but a few hours broken sleep. She was scared. She stirred the pot with an old wooden spoon; green vegetables rose and sunk in the whirlpool left behind. Soon Jano would be back; she would breathe safer when he returned. The room exploded with a light so bright all shadows disappeared. It took the old woman by complete surprise; she reached for the talisman around her neck and thrust it out towards the centre of the room; the jewel, a piece of Lock Stone, shone like it had never done before. Just then she felt the power of the light, it pushed away the weight she had grown to accept as a part of her day and, for the first time in months, she felt safe. She listened to the words that danced around the walls of her dwelling, bouncing off the walls of clay and powdered Lock Stone. She heard and understood. The light started to dim and it seemed that the darkness that replaced it was even stronger than before. She sat back against the corner of the hearth, sweat on her lip dripped into her mouth, she licked it away. It was clear to her now. For many years the people of Sinterland had grown complacent, had strayed from the ways more and more. She hadn't been losing her power, the antipathy of hers were gaining theirs. She had to pass the message on. She pondered this for a while. Here she was a fourth power Gifted in a position where she would have to approach the Inner Set, the Grand Masters of the Sinterland and try to warn them of the dangers they faced. Surely they would know, after all, her level of understanding was insignificant compared to the wisdom of the teachers at the School of the Right at Mandor. Why had she, a simple village Gifted, been charged with this task? The rain smashed against the shingled roof and Magla absent mindedly sprinkled more of the shield on the Candara roots of the cooking fire, white and yellow sparks and flames danced around the cooking pot. Jano would be home soon, Jano would be able to offer an insight to this. For such a young man he had a level of understanding that went beyond her years. ***** Five miles from the village on the road to the port of Talmi was the house and farm let of Elder Tance, his wife and their daughter Tandia. The farmhouse was set off from the road about seven paces and hidden behind a stone wall the height of a man and then some. The farmyard, established by this wall, corralled the livestock of the Tance family with most cowering in the shelter of the barn. A light shone through the gaps in the tightly bolted doors of the old barn; the rain thundering just as hard here as elsewhere. The far stall was the scene of all the activity; soft dry straw filled the aisle and formed the flooring on which a mare lay in difficult birth. Long since had she lost the strength to stand and her breathing was rapid and shallow. Elder Tance stood beside the young man, his sleeves rolled up and the leather vest tucked into his serge trousers. Mother Tance was not to be seen but Tandia was in attendance, rinsing the cloths Jano was using to wipe the horse. Elder Tance spoke with authority but with respect. Jano was a junior and Elder Tance would be expected to speak to him in the authoritative tense but, because of the boy's gifted status, a parody of terms worked its way into the exchange. "Not that I would know but it would seem that she's through."
Jano continued to bathe the mare. "Perhaps, Elder; perhaps. The foal is crossed and she is staying so and the mother is exhausted beyond limits." Jano had tried to turn the foal to no avail. Part of his Gift was an awareness of all animals. Old Magla had often told him that his strength in this and all others went beyond anything she had seen, he didn't really consider this one way or another, it was, so it was. He had tried to use conventional methods and the first Law of Changing, the first of over four hundred, stated that "a man's hand must try before a man's mind". If he didn't do something soon then she would certainly be through. Jano turned to the Tance's. "Elder, would you fetch me my bag and, Tandia, some more hot water". These requests would seem on the surface very straightforward but it illustrated the folklore and awe surrounding the craft. First, the request for the bag really meant the bag and the staff beside, and second, the water gathering would guarantee that no maiden was near when the Changing was performed. The unbridled power of a virgin was documented and some of the greatest of the Changings require the presence of same but for this type of enterprise, the effect on the focus would be unpredictable and the law was there to guarantee that no unexpected results would be experienced. Tandia blushed as she turned and left for a refill from the great copper in the house. Elder Tance gathered the kid-leather bag and, after hanging it over his shoulder, gently lifted the staff from against the wall. He walked back to Jano holding the staff away from his body, almost at arms length. Jano took it and knelt beside the mare. He rubbed her neck and whispered to her. Elder Tance could not make out the words. They were old speak, that he knew, not for the words, but for the sounds. Jano closed his eyes and soothed the foal. For the first time in hours the mare's sides stopped moving. For minutes the group didn't move at all. The staff started to glow ever so slightly, warming the air like a draft escaping from the kitchen door. The mare closed her eyes and her sides moved again, this time much more gently, much more slowly. She started to breathe and push. Elder Tance took a little of the salve from the bottle Jano had offered him and rubbed the mare's hind-quarters now dry and chaffed from the affair. Jano The Journey Begins - Page Slowly the foal showed. The glistening hoofs first and then, in almost no time she was there, as gently as you like. The mare turned to look at the bundle and tried to get up. Jano touched her again and she steadied. He moved down and picked up the foal carrying her to her mother. He stood and stepped out of the stall. Tandia was standing at the side door of the barn and her Father called her over. Jano took the bottle from Elder Tance and placed it back into his bag. He offered instruction for the care of mother and foal but did so in respectful tense as Elder Tance was a kind and good farmer, he needed little instruction when it came to the care of his charges. Jano washed and slipped his over cloak on.
"I'm sure that daughter would be most disconcerted if I didn't ask you to eat with us, Young Jano." Elder Tance reverted to the simple tense now that the work was done; Jano was once again the handsome gangly youth, not the Gifted of a few moments back. This is not to suggest that Elder Tance's respect for the boy changed, it was just that the rules of etiquette controlling such things were quite strict in these matters. These rules were quite pronounced and for such a simple society seemed complete beyond their needs. Consider naming, the concept of first names and last name was not applicable. Each person was given a name at birth and until they married would be known as Young. Once married the husband became Elder and the wife simply Wife, with the birth of the first child wife became Mother; unmarried or widowed men Master and women Mistress. The term Old was saved for the true village elders. If any more exact identification was required then the addition of the village name may be used or more local features if needed. For example, Elder Tance could be known as Elder Tance of Truewood or Elder Tance of Upper Farm at Truewood. All this may seem complicated but it isn't considering that the average Sou' Reacher would be lucky to travel beyond his village once or twice in his life and such identification would surely find the person they were talking about. This birth name was the public name. At the feast of the thirteenth year, each person would be given a true name. This name was kept secret and the only people likely to know it was the person them self and the Gifted performing the attachment ceremony. Knowing a person's true name gave absolute power over them as the true name was required for most magic both good and bad. Old Magla would have known the true names of most of the village folk. Jano had yet to reach manhood and hadn't received tuition in the ways of the attachment ceremony and, as such, he wasn't privy to any but his own. Jano's true name was Hue. Only he and Old Magla knew this. Both Jano and Tandia blushed and the farmer put his arm on the boy's shoulder leading him back along the aisle towards the door, Tandia was following carrying the buckets and cloths. "Daughter's spent the morning making sweet cakes and Mother has hot buttered tea on the hearth" Jano, more composed, accepted the hospitality and glanced at Tandia for a fleeting moment, seeing the look he had come to dream about. Being gifted didn't mean that a person was no longer human. Elder Tance acknowledged Jano's acceptance with a clap on the shoulder. Jano The Journey Begins - Page The boy buckled slightly under it as Elder Tance stood a horse and a half's height and had the weight of one and a half men. He was an honest farming man, such men were the principals of the Sou' Reaches and these people were known far and wide as the "Big Ones". Jano was on the path of being a big one and with the right food and work he would be a match for Elder Tance one-day. Not today though and Elder Tance laughed a fit and healthy laugh as they walked through the door and ran across the path to the kitchen door. The room was warm and smelt of the spices from the Mid Lands, sweet and pungent. Mother Tance wiped her hand on her apron. She bowed to Jano in the way of the Sou' Reaches and he returned the salutation. The formalities done, they all sat at the table by the hearth and Mother poured hot
buttered tea into large clay mugs as Tandia removed the cloth from the sweet cakes in the centre of the table. The group ate and drank. The storm blew on. "Tell me, Elder, do you feel this storm is unseasonable?" Jano asked between sips of the steaming brew. "Aye, I feel that this is bad for all, Young Jano". Elder Tance made the sign as he said this as is the custom when talking of such things. Jano had placed the staff beside this hearth. At that moment it shone so brightly is looked to be on fire. Jano drew a breath and sat bolt upright, the Tance's stared in awe. As quickly as it came, it went. Jano sat trance like for a few moments then dropped his mug. The hot liquid spilling snapped Jano out of it and the rest followed suit. "What in the Maker's name was that?" "A message, Elder" Jano touched the staff, answering as an aside. "My apologies for being the cause of this in your house, I must go immediately, Old Magla needs me." Jano stood, the others followed suit. He bowed and then started for the door. Elder Tance nodded to his daughter with the softest of smiles passing his lips. She ran across the room to catch up to Jano. The parents sat down again, discreetly turning their backs on the young couple. Jano turned and smiled to her, she looked down, another custom, and smiled in return. "Must you go so soon, Jano?" "Would that I could stay longer, Tandia, but I am needed." He smiled again and this returned the smile to her face. He reached his hand out and touched her on the cheek, she blushed again, Jano said goodbye and walked out into the storm, pulling the hood of his over cloak over his head. Tandia watched as he walked out of the yard. Her mother walked up to her and put her arm on her waist. "Now my love, time to do the dishes." She kissed the girl on the forehead and wiped the smallest of tears from the corner of her eye. * * * * Sinterland from Nor' Land to Sou' Land stretched from the Arctic latitudes to the Antarctic. As a country it was really an infinite number of Principalities with all the political intrigues attached to such a fragmented structure. At the heart of the nation was the Mid Lands consisting of four main island groups, Mainland, Ceric, Ule and Wasan and over three hundred islands surrounding, here the nation's capital Mandor was located. An emperor, a direct descendant of the first chief of the Sinter tribe, ruled the land. This position was largely ceremonial as the true control lay in the houses of the High Tribunal. This consisted of a left and right house and the members of these, over four hundred in all, controlled all aspects of Sinterland life. Membership of the tribunal was either inherited or won at battle, but since there had
been no wars in the land for over one hundred and fifty years, the membership was established and conservative; some said corrupt. The position of supreme power of the tribunal was that of speaker and Kule of Mandor, the patriarch of the Trull dynasty held it. In the current history of Sinterland three family groups figure, these are the Lamors, the Cupins and the youngest and most ferocious, having gained power of the tribunal during the war of the six years, the Trull. The naming law of the Mid Lands was a little different to the Reaches. Because of their increased sophistication, each person there had the option to align themselves with one of the thirty-seven family lines that formed the nobility of this nation. Each of these families could trace their roots to the original tribe. In point of fact each and every Sinterlander could claim a heritage in the same way as all were related to one of these thirty seven although this only seem relevant in the Mid Lands, most other people had more important things to worry about than this esoteric nonsense. Most common Mid Landers didn't bother with this naming, as it had become an unwritten law that only the true nobility could and Maker-help any common man whom tried. The thirty-seven families had all formed under one of the three power groups and, politics being what they are, there was a continued movement of allegiances. To date, due partly to their strength in the physical sense, the Trull had maintained control. * * * * * He found the old woman sitting by the fire, the room heavy with the fragrance of the shielding. "Old Magla what was it?" The woman looked at him and for the first time he noticed the weight of her years. "A message Jano; born on the Mage winds from the Sou' Watcher." She made the sign and uttered the blessing of the dead. "A message sent with all his force, a portent of evil to come". Jano had heard stories of the Watchers, dedicated Gifteds of the tenth or eleventh level that watched the lands for danger at all the points of the compass, living hermit like existences only leaving their vidual to marry. Jano The Journey Begins - Page The Sou' Watcher roamed the Lans End peninsula, over fifteen hundred miles south, Jano stood in awe to think that the man's power could send the message over such a distance. "What marvellous power that Watcher must have." Old Magla smiled and shook her head sympathetically. "Jano, that message should have reached the Mid Lands, not some old fourth level Gifted and her apprentice in the Sou' Reaches".
Jano walked across the room and sat on the bed beside the old woman's chair. She turned to face him. "Hue. She whispered his secret name. "We must let the Inner Set know of these things, our Gifts are weakening and our lands are vulnerable. You must go my young one, you must approach the Great School of the Inner Set, tell them the story, repeat for them the message." Jano was dumbstruck. Until a few hours ago this sixteen year olds only aspirations were to learn the skills of a fourth level, court and marry Tandia and serve the people of Truewood as their Gifted, hopefully bearing a child with the sign and starting a new line. Now, his world appeared to have been turned upside down. It was as if Old Magla could see his very thoughts, she took the metal box of the mantel piece, opened it and removed a scroll wrapped in kid-leather. "At the time of your birth I saw the sign. Each Sinterland child was delivered in the presence of a Gifted, those born with a caul were deemed to be signed and thus, marked for possible training. At the time of the attachment ceremony, at the giving of the name, the Gifted would decide whether the powers were established and grade them accordingly. If the subject was deemed to be "fine stock" then it was automatic that the child would become the apprentice of the Gifted. Jano had been born with a black caul, not the transparent membrane commonly associated with the sign. During his childhood he had exhibited such strong power that it was only a formality to perform the attachment ceremony. Jano's family had known since the birth of their second born son that his time with them was limited to his childhood. The family of Elder Showen was proud of their son as the family of a Gifted was deemed to be lucky and luck had surely followed them. Elder Showen was one of the largest land owners in the district; the Showen Farm on the flat lands prospered and kept Jano's family busy and well fed. Mother Showen had grieved her son's thirteenth year as she knew that she was to lose him although, with the distance between the farm and Truewood being less than a days trek, she found comfort in the knowledge that he would be able to visit regularly which he did with the devotion of any Sou' Reaches son to his mother. Old Magla unrolled the scroll. She handed it to him. "This is an introduction to the gate keeper of the School of the Right of the Inner Set at Mandor. Many years ago, in the leaf fall of about your second year a great teacher on a wandering came past. I had occasion to spend time with him and he showed me some high-craft Changings for stock, I told this man of your black caul and he visited your parents with the view to observing for himself what, if any, powers you may have had. Jano stared at the parchment "I remember that vaguely I remember his face, his eyes, they were different; he was a kind man." The old woman nodded.
"Yes, the Master said you would, he told me a lot about you, he wrote this introduction. I asked him whether you should be sent to Mandor at the start of your apprenticeship but he told me that you would do better to find your own way there, I didn't understand what he meant until now." Jano noticed a small tear forming in the woman's eye. "My sweet boy, it grieves me to send you off like this, I have no sight of what awaits, a quest no doubt, but what the quest is, I know not, albeit there is no doubt that you must go." With that the old lady slapped her legs and rose. * * * * The next day Jano awoke with the earliest songs of the barnyard. The weather was calm by the standards of the last few days but the wind still sang in the eaves of the cottage. He performed his chores and made breakfast for the two of them. "I will leave tomorrow, it will take many days to reach the Inner Set and I would like to start immediately." he spooned another mouthful of porridge, Old Magla broke the silence. "Jano, I have thought long on this, you will have to go the way of a normal person and not let it be known you are Gifted. I have bad feelings about this whole affair, it is important that you arrive with no fan-fair". Jano nodded, he had reached the same conclusion. "I will take my leave of everyone today." The old woman held her hand up to stop him. "You will go now and tell no one, I will fabricate a story to cover your absence until such a time as you should take to reach the Inner Set. I feel it in my bones that you must be careful." Jano was about to continue when there was a knock at the door. He pushed the chair back from the table, stood and walked across. Opening the door, the morning light was blocked by the biggest man you could imagine. His face scared and weather-beaten, his hands the size of ham hocks, dressed in the vest and trousers of a "Roamer" with the two swords one long and one short stuck in the black silk cummerbund. "Dannid!" Jano yelled with pleasure, the giant bowed elegantly, reached out and grabbed the young boys shirt roughly, with that Jano turned and dropped on one knee moving his arm in an arch across the giant's forearm and breaking the grip with little effort. The big man laughed a booming laugh and ducked his head as entered the door. "You haven't forgotten the way of the unarmed." He hugged the boy, lifting him off the ground. He turned to the old woman and bowed again, this time with reverence. Master Dannid the Roamer was a warrior. The warrior class was a level below the true nobility but above all others and many generations of warriors usually cast the line for the current generation. Dannid was a Roamer, simply, at some time in his or his families past, the lord they served had been beaten in battle and they had elected to not serve the victor. Once a Roamer made such a decision,
all warrior advantages were lost, all land taken and the only future walking the roads of the Outer Reaches performing whatever tasks were needed to keep the person alive. Some Roamers, the likes of Dannid's great great great grand-father, elected to settle and marry and take up a trade, in this instance sword-smithing. It was the prerogative of the father to pass on to the first born son. Thus a number of generations could be Roamers, if Dannid married and had a son, he could do the same, although Master Dannid was deemed to be beyond marrying age and it was likely that the man would take his line to his grave. Dannid had spent most of his life working at his trade and was known to most of the Sou' Reaches as a master sword smith. One of his swords had even been sent to the Inner Set by the old lord at the Sou' Reach Castle in the county of Lans End and presented to Tully the brother of Kule of Mandor. Dannid had also taken to Jano many years ago, Dannid was a good friend of Jano's father, and had spent most of Jano's childhood years teaching him the warrior skills of sword, arrow and naked hand. Jano was adept at all although, unlike Dannid, unblooded. The giant turned and closed the door, the old woman offered him a stool by the hearth, Jano and she returned to their places. Magla spoke first. "Jano, Master Dannid is here for a purpose." She paused as she poured the man a mug of tea; he took it and sipped quietly. "The master took Master Dannid into his confidence and entrusted your safety to him, something that it would seem has been well affected. Master Dannid will accompany you to the Inner Set, you will go in the guise of apprentice to this humble sword maker from the Outer Reaches." She smiled at the boy; a glow filled the room shimmering around her body, her heart-light radiating a red-orange hue. A bolt of pure white light flew across the room and danced around Jano like lightening and disappeared. With this Old Magla had sent her strongest spell, her gift of love to the boy. She had added strength to the boy's powers at the expense of her own. She sat heavily as the glow lessened. Magla would take a long time to regain her strength. Jano stood transfixed, understanding the gift she had just given. He moved towards her but stopped as she held up her hand. "Don't be sentimental now you young scoundrel, be off with you". Dannid opened the door, bowed once more to the old woman, turned and left. Jano gathered his haversack and followed, tears formed in his eyes. Dannid turned and caught a glimpse of the sleeve wiping away the offenders. He put his arm around the boy's shoulders and hugged him saying nothing, nothing needed to be said.
CHAPTER TWO
Five days trek, punctuated with nights sleeping on the side of the road or in the barns of obliging farmers, found the pair on the out-skirts of the city of Showlans. It was another forty miles to the port of Talmi and the weather was turning to nasty; Dannid had decided to seek a bed here for the night. The lights of countless lanterns danced on the stiff breeze as they crested the hill and started towards the first buildings of this principal trading centre. Jano marvelled at the expanse. This was the first city he had ever seen and even though he had been given a full recount of such things over the past days nothing could have prepared him for what he now saw. Showlans was a prosperous place. It was the main trading post of the Sou' Reaches, the place where the produce of the farmers was bartered for the items that the hawkers would take back to continue the cycle next month. It was a place of merchants, not lands-people. This was obvious in that the lanterns were still alight. What farmer could afford to keep a lantern burning after evening meal? Jano shook his head in stunned disbelief. His stomach growled at the thought of an evening meal, the maize porridge eaten at first light that morning was all they had had all day and the worms were biting. He felt a shiver run through his body. "You are right to shiver, Jano. Remember that this is not the village any more. Here people are not likely to open their hearts and arms to a couple of foot-sore travelers. Here friendship is measured in the coin of the realm, not the good will of a deed done or re-done in kind." Dannid started another of his lessons. He had been doing this since they left the village. Jano never realized there was so much to know. His head was swimming from all he had seen and been told and this was just five days out. Dannid continued. "You have got to watch any merchant my young friend, tell them nothing and give them nothing more'n they deserve. Be on guard, there are many people and some are spies." "Spies for whom?" Dannid stopped in his tracks. Jano, walking slightly behind as was the way of master and apprentice, almost walked into the back of the big man. Dannid turned and put both hands on the boy's shoulders. "If we knew that then we would not need to be masquerading around the countryside. So, in the interest of giving a good account of ourselves you have got to start acting like an apprentice, this means that you will not speak unless spoken to and you will never interrupt your master." Dannid drew a breath. "You must be aware that any one we met from now on must be held in suspicion. The old lady is no fool, heed her words and beware my young buck." With that he smiled and touched the boys forehead with his thumb, a Sou' Reach sign of love and respect of one man to another. Dannid had never done this before; this was an adult's thing, not a
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man to a boy. Jano smiled. The giant turned and strode off without another word leaving the boy to run after him in the manner of an obedient apprentice. Most of the houses on the outskirts belonged to local market gardeners supplying the green-stuffs for the town. The style of the buildings was more ornate than the typical farmer's cottage and Jano could see that some of them may have had more than one room. It was dark now and they met very few people on the road. Those they did only mumbled greetings as they pasted, not the ways of village folk at all. Dannid strode on causing Jano to trot to keep up. Jano realized that this was to add integrity to their appearance and thanked the Maker that his pace had been more subdued to now. Jano knew that the man was capable of walking at this speed for a day. Dannid knew Jano was not. It was not spoken it was just accepted. Turning a bend in the road they saw the light of a tavern ahead. "We will see if they have lodgings for the night." Dannid said over his shoulder. They entered the main room, Dannid ducking his head to miss hitting the plinth. The room was almost square, big enough to house seven tables and pews most of which were populated by men and women dressed in what would be Rest days best for a lands-man. The room was heavy with the smells of food and meed. The inn-keeper, a small balding man with a leather apron and rolled up sleeves, wiped his hands on a towel and moved across the room to greet Dannid. He observed them as they entered and already had them pegged as a couple of no-good lands-men wanting to swap a few turnips for a room, not knowing anything about trade and the need for coin. He smiled an obligatory, albeit half-hearted, smile. Dannid returned it. He towered over this little man and deliberately stretched to full size as he bellowed a greeting to the room. "Good evening brothers and sisters." Jano was disappointed with the mumbled reply Dannid received. The rafters of the central house would ring with the salutations back in the village; still Dannid had warned him that they were leaving the village behind. The innkeeper bowed a half-hearted bow as if he had just remembered some distant cradle-taught rule of manners. Jano cringed again. Dannid did not seem to notice this rudeness but bowed to his waist, his head almost touching the innkeeper's, his beard tickling the balding pate. He then straightened and pulled his rough surge cloak off his shoulders. In the light of the lanterns and the open-hearth the polished handles of the two swords sparkled like Mage-wood. The innkeeper saw the swords and fell to one knee nervously, suddenly remembering all the rules of etiquette that had seemed forgotten up till now. A hush descended over the room as the gathering focused on Dannid. Beneath his cloak he wore his leather breastplate and his cummerbund; his swords rode high on his right hip. He smiled as the full impact of his presence filled the room.
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"Inn-keep, a room for myself, a stall in the barn for my apprentice and food and drink if you please." He spoke in direct instructive tense and waved his arm in a throwaway gesture that was designed to intimidate. The people started to talk among themselves as the innkeeper showed the pair to a table at the end of the room. As they sat a young girl put a plate of leavened bread in front of them and two plates of a thick steaming stew. The innkeeper returned with two tankards of meed and bowed to Dannid. "Inn-keep, the old laws guide you to give me and my apprentice passage. As a Roamer I am entitled to this." The innkeeper nodded. It was so. Roamers were to be given all the courtesy and board that they desired. This was much to the anger of such people as this coin-grabbing innkeeper and to the honour and respect of a lands-man. Dannid had made it a rule that such charity would never be taken for granted and, even though he didn't care a smidgen for this insignificant little merchant, his honour dictated that his ideals be up-held. "My name is Dannid the Roamer; I am a master sword smith. I have a personal creed that I do not take advantage of good folk such as yourself." The innkeeper breathed a sigh of relief, last year he had to house and feed a Roamer from the Mid Lands for two months; there is no profit in it what so ever. "Please make sure all your knives are cleaned and ready for me after breakfast tomorrow and I will sharpen them for you." The innkeeper smiled to himself, this would more than compensate for the food and lodging, there were few sword smiths around these days, and after all, as the old ways taught a kitchen's knifes is its wealth. He also thanked the Maker that Roamers were a dying breed as well. "Thank you sir, is there anything else you need?" Dannid looked at the plate in front of Jano, wiped clean with the bread. He smiled. "My good for nothing apprentice appears to be ready for seconds and I feel thirds is on the cards. Just fill our plates as we need it and make sure that there is clean straw in the loft." With that he waved the innkeeper away and began to eat the stew. The crowd had returned to an almost normal gathering. Jano and Dannid ate their fill and sat at the fire until closing. The crowd started to drift away and the fire was burning low. Jano felt full and warm and looked forward to his bed in the loft. He didn't worry about sleeping in the barn, and knew the truth of it was that Dannid would probably have a bad night trying to come to grips with a bed and end up sleeping on the floor. A mist had descended, turned into a fog and now it clawed at the room each time the door was opened. They retired to their respective beds. Jano stripped to his loincloth and washed in the cattle trough at the door of the barn. The water was icy cold and it invigorated him. He dried himself with straw and dressed in his night cloak, a heavy linen material and climbed into the loft, covered himself with straw and was asleep in minutes.
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***** The next morning saw an early sun push the fog away and awaken the barnyard's chorus ahead of a time that Jano would have planned. He felt stiff, not from his bed but from days of walking. He did feel better than yesterday and knew that he would feel better tomorrow; in fact he felt his body tightening with a fitness he had missed since leaving the farm and becoming a villager. He quickly dressed and made his way out of the barn. Dannid was seated at the table near the hearth and bellowed a hearty good morning to his soft and bed-bound apprentice slapping him on the back as he slid in beside him on the pew. The pot on the fire bubbled lazily with the thick porridge that formed the staple diet of most Sou' Reach people. The young girl from the night before curtsied as she entered the room with an arm full of Tokawood for the fire and dropped it with practiced precision on the hearth. She spooned large helpings from the pot into two wooden bowls and passed them to Dannid and Jano in turn. On the table was a bowl filled with sweet spices from the Mid Lands. Dannid spooned a heap onto his meal, Jano was dumb-struck, sweet spices were so precious they were kept for the most special of occasions and only used in smallest amounts, Rosewood containers were made to store the treasure and here was Dannid spooning it onto porridge. The big man smiled, "Remember that we are not in the village anymore." He said with a laugh. Jano could not bring himself to follow, a victim of too many years of mothers teachings, and they ate the rest of their meal in silence. As promised Dannid set up his sharpening stone and after heating the blades a little went to work honing them to a sharpness they had long forgotten. The innkeeper had been in to breakfast and bid them a good morning as he left for the market leaving Young Tulla to look after them. It took Dannid five hours to perform the sharpening with much swearing and muttering about the state of such beautiful instruments. Dannid attacked his art with the passion expected where creation of any kind was seen to be an extension of the maker's and the Maker's soul. Considering the work that went into this particular craft it was understandable. ***** In his tenth year Jano had lived for a year with Dannid, during that time Jano was introduced to the skill of sword making. They created a short knife for him. Jano could never wear the knife as he wasn't a Roamer but Dannid said that he would leave the blade virgin so that he could mount it and hang it over his hearth. Dannid's forebears were masters of the Kusso School whose techniques transcended time, unlike the newer and quicker Tummer methods. Tummer worked on castings and could turn out a blade in a tenth the time a Kusso artist spent creating just the soulless blank. Jano watched Dannid work and cast himself back to those happy days. Each morning he would light the forge using Tokawood as the main agent. Once the blaze had heated the hearth and the Lock Stone chips were white with their heat, a feat accomplished by the continual pumping of the large leather bellows, the spirit wood would be added. Three main woods were used, Huzewood for the folding, Yeoak for the souling and Cowspaw for the breaking. Jano
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now knew the magic of these combinations as these, and thirteen more roots and timbers, formed the basis of all Changing. Huzewood was added for the folding of a blank of rude metal forged by Dannid in the large furnace from rocks supplied by a stone hawker the year before. A blank had to be kept in concert with the sword maker for at least one year, learning the vibrations of the artist. Green blanks were of no use to any one and the very act of forging started the spiritual side of the Kusso style. Dannid had racks of blanks in his main room, all labelled and named. For Jano he had chosen Jusmar. He told Jano of the day he fed the stones into the furnace, how he shaped the crude blank in the sand trap. Jusmar and three of his brothers were special blanks. Dannid had performed a little magic with them, Kusso sword smiths had some simple magic at their beckoning and he had included powered Blue Lock Stone in the sand of the casting box. Jano remembered as he held Jusmar for the first time he felt warmth in the cold blue slug. Jusmar was three years old, being struck in Jano's seventh year and Dannid smiled as he told him he had planned this for a long time. The morning of the first blow came. Jano worked at the fire and by mid-day the Huzewood had changed the smoke from grey to a light blue and the Lock Stone was yellowing slightly, losing a little of its ferocity. Dannid was stripped to the waste with a white headband holding his jet-black hair in place. He knelt on a grass mat and beckoned Jano to join him. Jusmar was lying between them as Dannid droned a sweet prayer in old-talk; Jano didn't understand the words but delighted in the sweet soft song of this normally loud bass voice. Dannid took the blank and handed it to Jano. With a smile he introduced Jano to it in the formal indicative tense. He instructed Jano to hold the blank to his forehead and then took it back. The blank was then placed into the Lock Stone chips, immediately sparks filled the air and the fire cracked and popped. Dannid nodded, this was to be a good and true blade; he had had no way of knowing until this moment. The signs were good. What followed was three days of heating, hammering on the anvil until the blank was flat and wafer thin, more heating and a single fold performed on the plasma like blank. It was tempered and left to cool. The cycle repeated. Jano The Journey Begins - Page Dannid allowed Jano to be instrumental in the heating and hammering, although there was little a ten year old could do in hammering but it was important as the hammering entwined the spirit and, providing the heart was true, the blade would be. Dannid was a craftsman, as such he only produced ten or twelve blades a year but his work was known and the sword-buyer, a registered governmental official, always paid Dannid what the blade was worth; something that couldn't be said for the mass-produced Tummer blades. Still a Tummer blade would only be used by a low official or a soldier, Kusso blades by high officials of the Mid Lands. Under Sinterland law only the nobility or the soldiery were allowed blades,
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although a sword smith was allowed to produce blades less than two-hand length for domestic use. Dannid didn't, he didn't need to as his income was guaranteed and his life-style simple. The folding was critical. If the fold was not dead-centre then the blade would not vibrate correctly, it would lose its spirit, be almost impossible to keep sharp and, ultimately, break. The folding went on and on until the blank was now itself on itself over a hundred times. On the morning of the fifth day, Dannid instructed that Yeoak be added. Jano was excited as this meant the souling was to be performed. The Yeoak turned the lodestone greenish and the smoke was pure white, its aroma pungent but not unpleasant. The soul was a strip of metal forged from a combination of Lock Stone and Cornice Rock. Jusmar was heated to the now familiar yellow-white. Dannid removed the blank and placed it with reverence on the anvil. He had cleaned the anvil for an hour with Ula oil and it shone in the mid-morning sun. The white-hot metal burnt a little of the residual oil and the smell was as fragrant as the trees it came from. He placed the cold soul strip beside the now red blank. Taking a light hammer he started to tap the blank and the soul strip. Jano could not perform the souling for two reasons. First, under Kusso law only a third year apprentice could be taught the skill and more practically, second, the soul strip had to be added to the blank with both sides beaten together before the red was lost. Failure to do this would render the blank useless. Dannid had about three minutes to perform this task. With the light hammer he blended the first side, flipped the blank over and the same on the second. Quickly now, rub the blank with Ula oil on a chamois and then the big hammer. The bell of the hammer on the anvil filled the workshop with a music that no court composer could mimic. The sparks that flew from the metal comprised the colours of the rainbow, Jano watched in wonder, feeling the spirit of the moment, watching the cascade of sparks, hearing the chorus of the metals counter-pointing the grunts of this wonderful artist. Finally Dannid plunged the blank into the water. The surface boiled and steam filled the air. "Jusmar, you are now a blade! he bellowed loudly as he turned to the boy. Jano ran up to him jumped up and threw his arms around the man's neck filled with a love and devotion that cannot be described. Dannid expected this, after all the Kusso art was very spiritual and the boy had just completed his first souling. Jusmar would be strong. In the old days a Kusso master would never consider souling a blade without the owner being present for just this reason. That was a thing of the past, but, for this blade, Dannid was delighted with the result. Once the souling was performed the blade had been made. The soul strip was the sharpness and the blank the strength. The amazing thing about this technique was that alone neither of these metals could perform but once they were combined the blade became peerless. The souling continued with about forty heating and temperings. Dannid allowed Jano to be involved as much as possible and even allowed him to perform the adjustments to the bonding with the light hammer. At the end the blade had a formed beauty. The shape was slightly convex with the colour ranging from the dark blue of the backbone to the gossamer sheen of the edge.
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All that remained was the breaking. Simply, the Cowspaw would be added and the blade warmed to hot but no colour change. Once this was achieved the blade was plunged into a bucket of Ula oil and then polished on Sandstones from very rough to very smooth. The Sandstones were purchased from the stone hawker and were the most important and expensive of the tools. Much time was taken with the selection and a good Kusso artist, as Dannid was, would be able to tell where the stone was sourced just from the feel and it came from all points of the compass. The rough from the deserts of the Wastelands to the north a thousand miles, the mid-range from the gigantic Nor' Land quarries and the smooth from the Landsend beaches blown flat with winds that grew from the icy womb of the Antarctic wastelands. The purchase of the sandstone was attacked with much ceremony, much head shaking and chin rubbing, much debate and argument and finally, when agreement was reached, much celebration. Usually with meed and rice spirit and a long night of stories before a head sore hawker left the next morning vowing never to return to this Maker-forsaken place and argue with this good-for-nothing black-smith engaged in the enterprise of turning plough-shears into money from the unsuspecting Mid Land's gentry. All this said, Old Tanna the stone hawker had been performing his Sandstone run year in and year out for as long as Dannid remembered, letting people know that Dannid the sword smith, and his forebears before, were the last of the great Kusso masters. Never in Dannid's ear shot of course; etiquette would never allow it. Breaking required at least fifty cycles and the end result was beauty to behold. The blade was now blue silver, blinding with its own Inner Light. The edge was pure white breaking out to silver at the bonding. Jusmar was now a short knife. Kusso masters are poets and always decorate their blades with the old verse characters of a duquane composed for the occasion. He asked Jano to compose the duquane; a three lined poetic statement and was stunned by the boys perception, and a perception he deemed beyond his years. "Overhead hawks fly on wings as still as the ground, the wild fowl, bound to the earth for eternity, flaps wings faster than the eye can see" Dannid embraced the simplistic beauty of the statement and pressed Jano for the meanings. All duquane have two meanings, first the story and second, the spirit. The story was easy enough, it is not necessarily the most active that achieves the desired result, Dannid nodded agreement with this, the boy thought for a long while then offered that to be happy in spirit didn't necessarily need a lot of earthly trappings or enterprise. These were not the boy's words but his intent; his explanation was more long-winded as he struggled to capture the spirit with the tongue of a child. Dannid had used this duquane himself when called upon to recite and never ceased to be amazed by its clarity. Needless to say he was not
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in the least bit surprised with the power Jano had; after all, the wandering master had foreseen it those years prior. The breaking was complete, the duquane composed. All that remained was for the decoration. Dannid formed the old characters on the blade in the Kusso style, the verse one side and an animated depiction on the other. The engraving took two days and Jano watched the process never once loosing interest. The hand-guard was added and the handle riveted into place. The handle was Lock Stone covered with woven flax. The blade was left virgin, not sharpened, as to blood it would make it illegal for Jano to own. Dannid had also made the scabbard from Yeoak that had been polished with bee-wax and topped with a crown of Silver metal. He clicked the blade home and laid it into the boys lap. A tear formed on the boys cheek as he turned the blade over in his hands. Dannid laughed a hearty laugh. "Well boy, I hope I have now completely destroyed your childish notions of becoming my apprentice to this boring and dying no-talent past-time." Jano just looked at him and smiled. Dannid nodded and sprang to his feet. He noted that the boy's smile was full of an understanding he had strived for but never achieved. ***** "These blades are the work of a Northern Master." Dannid pulled Jano back from his day-dreaming, "I wager our money-hungry inn keep doesn't even know the true value of a set of matching Kusso kitchen knives. Look boy," he held the carving knife up to Jano, "there is a cursed nick out of the edge, in the Maker's name I cannot understand how such beauty can be treated so badly." Dannid shook his head and put the last of the knives back into the Yeoak box that housed them, obviously not waxed and hadn't been in years. The innkeeper entered the room from the courtyard and bowed to them. "Ah I see you are done, master sword smith." Dannid nodded with a grunt and handed the box to the man. "Are my blades of any value?" Dannid paused and hinted just the slightest wink to Jano. "No, not at all, they are the work of a Tummer apprentice with little or no skill. Do yourself a favour, take them to Old Gremus the knife hawker and tell him I sent you, he will barter with you for a new set of the latest Tummer master-pieces. Best thing you can do. I consider the time I have spent on them a waste and only did it to fulfil my commitment. By the way, we will stay till tomorrow morning; it is a shame I wasted so much time on that rubbish." Dannid slapped the table with resignation. The innkeeper thanked him for his comments and said he would seek out the knife hawker the very next day. He turned and walked back to the kitchen scheming how he would take advantage of the old man, he was nearly blind; he wouldn't even notice the nick in the blade.
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Dannid whispered to Jano. "When a man covets money and possessions the way that man does, he cannot appreciate beauty for its subtly. He will see the shinning silver of a Tummer set as a treasure and look at the timelessness of those he now owns as old, besides," he added with a laugh in his voice, "Old Gremus is a kind and gentle man, the sale of that set would guarantee him comfort for the rest of his years thus one man's greed is turned to another man's good-fortune and we have a harmony that greed rarely strikes, another example of Kusso poetry in practice." Dannid reached into his pack-roll and pulled out a parcel wrapped in black cloth. He handed it to Jano who knew immediately what it was. "Jusmar is blooded and as my apprentice you have the right to wear it. I have an uneasy feeling about all this and I want you armed in the conventional manner. You know how to use him, remember the first rule of Kusso swordsmanship; never show your blade the light in anger." Jano understood this. As well as the self-defence Dannid had taught him as a boy he had embraced the simplest of Kusso philosophies. A Kusso sword maker was also a master swordsman. Master swordsmen never fight with anger as it removes the edge from the blade. Technique was the tool they used and the blade a means to an end. Kusso masters could stop an adversary with a series of thrusts and cuts that would remove the cloth from his back but not mark the skin. Jano had practiced for countless hours with the long and short Yeoak sticks and was a skilful pupil. His technique was faultless and had it not been for his predestined course would have become a truly great Kusso master, of that Dannid was sure. "The blade is happy to be with you boy. I only hope you never have to use him." The thought of violence was foreign to Jano. All the skills he had learnt under Dannid's watchful eye had just been a game to him. Sinterlander's were, on the whole, simple peaceful people and law and order was automatic with the aforementioned qualities. Still Jano felt a restlessness that he knew was in the roots of the spirit of the people and he knew that is was evil. For this reason he understood the need for protection but vowed silently that Jusmar would never harm another person. He prayed the vow would not be in vain.
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CHAPTER THREE
They left the next morning at first light. There was a good day's travel to the seaport of Talmi and Dannid wanted to get on with it. Once they reached Talmi they would board one of the island ferries that would wend its way up the Tirrom Archipelago that skirted the Brasallim wastelands on its western shores. This trip would take fifteen to sixteen days depending on the weather and that would bring them to the island of Guamaland, famous for the decaying ruins of the old days. It was at least a week's travel to the next port and then two sea-days more to the main port of the Mid Lands. For the first time Jano started to have some appreciation of distance. The morning was crisp with the smell of the forest heavy in the air. The Sou' Reaches rolling plains were being replaced with sub-tropical rain forest that grew on the rim of the depression that formed the greater part of the land. Because of the prevailing southerly winds and the natural amphitheatre of the landmass the northern mountain ranges were nearly always cloud bound as the jet-stream air met and caressed the sub-tropical eddies from the equatorial regions. As they wound their way up the mountain track they walked into the white mist that had been taunting them off and on for the past few hours. Visibility was limited to only ten or fifteen feet as classic whiteout loomed before them. Dannid stopped and waited for Jano to catch up. "Curse the Maker for this shroud. It's a bad sign Jano; we'll have to wait it out. According to the traveller a while ago the afternoon winds will clear the pass." He sat down heavily on the side of the road. Everyone knew the danger of proceeding in a whiteout. After a while all senses are numbed to such a decree that vertigo will attack you and considering that in some places this track was only five feet wide with a thousand feet drop down the side of the eastern face of the valley to the river below, vertigo was not a good thing. "What's more the ferry sails on the evening tide and will be the last for three days. Blast our rotten luck". Jano sat beside him. He hugged his legs and rocked for a moment. Quite nonchalantly he said that he could lead them through this without a care. Dannid slapped his forehead and bellowed a laugh. "Of course you can, lead on my boy." Jano stood and offered Dannid the end of his woollen scarf and started along the path. Jano walked with his eyes closed so that his sense of sight would not interfere with that of proximity. He had little trouble leading them along the track and kept up a steady pace. They continued through the whiteout for about an hour. "What beauty." Dannid dropped the scarf and stopped walking. Jano opened his eyes and had to blink to focus. They had just broken through the cloud and were standing on top of the world. In all directions the white stretched, punctuated with the peaks of the range, like islands of the Mid Lands archipelago. A warm sweet breeze filled their nostrils and there was the hint of the sea, in the height of winter all the peaks would be snow covered but the thaw had started over a month ago and patches of white pocked the horizon.
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The stopped for lunch, a leaven bread sandwich of boiled meat and vegetables prepared by Young Tulla that morning and sweet-cakes covered in spice dust. As they ate the breeze became a wind, not unpleasant and now quite heavy with the fragrance of the sea. The white began to churn like the waves on an ocean and in under half an hour the mist had broken up starting to show the valleys and ridges below and the coastline in the distance. Dannid slapped his knees, one of his most common mannerisms and jumped to his feet. "Come on lad, time to go." With that he strode off, leaving Jano to roll up the blanket they had been lying on and run to catch up. Dannid was whistling, the sun broke through the clouds and in the distance the sound of a river filled the ranges with a vibrancy and life. The path went down the valley wall and soon they were running parallel to the river. In places the water was like glass and elsewhere boiling white with rapids. Snow still covered most of the ground and their breath formed clouds of white against their ruddy cheeks. The sun fought to cut through the cloud and mist and did offer a little warmth but the air here was not as easily moved as that on the peaks. It was heavy with the smells of the forest. They had met no travellers since early that morning and Jano felt a heaviness growing in his chest. He walked up to Dannid. "I feel something is not right" He spoke to Dannid in the instructive tense of a Gifted. The giant nodded saying nothing but Jano noticed that he had moved his thumb under the guard of his long sword and had clicked the blade free of the clasp. Jano closed his eyes and tried to focus on the weight but couldn't quite make out the cause. They walked a little longer. Suddenly they were surrounded by six men dressed in black and all armed with Moccas (three lengths of Yeoak joined with chain, quite a deadly weapon in the hands of an expert). "Stand travellers!" The man standing on the track spoke, he was obviously the leader. Dannid had stopped and had adopted the front leaning stance. Any one unfamiliar with the ways of the sword would not have noticed this but Jano had and had followed suit. Dannid bellowed at the man. "What is the meaning of this?" "We want all your valuables, the man yelled, perhaps to scare or perhaps to promote the courage of his supporters. Dannid moved forward one pace to the Crane stance, his shoulders square to his hips, his hands resting on the hilt of the long sword. He starred at the man; he had moved back a step as the giant had moved forward. "What has come of the Sou' Reaches when a man cannot walk the roads without worrying about being set upon by a band of brigands the likes of this sorry lot?" Dannid's lack of fear was evident in the ferocity of his voice and Jano noticed nervous glances going on around him. "Jano, take the stance". On Dannid's order Jano turned and backed towards him, facing the assailants at the rear and moving into the cat stance. Dannid had quickly drawn the long sword and held it over his head leaning forward ready to slash across his body in the classic first cut technique. The magic of the sword appearing from inside the cloak where it had been hidden had the desired
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effect, the men all stepped back, least of all the leader who Dannid had pegged as a coward from the first; most packs are a hierarchy of cowards. Dannid took three quick steps, sliding one foot in front of the other, keeping the stance perfect, not moving his shoulders or head, ready to strike with all the strength and accuracy a Kusso master could muster. The bandit, now fearing for his life vainly tried to swing the Moccas at Dannid. Dannid turned side on to the attack and swung an uppercut that took his blade smashing through the middle piece of wood, at the top of the arc he sprung into the air with a grace that no one would have expected from his bulk. Both his feet kicked into the man's chest, knocking his feet off the ground and hurling him through the air, smashing into a briar bush. Jano followed the lead and sprung a flying snap kick into the chest of the nearest man, turning in the air, rolling and sweeping the legs from under another, in the space of three seconds three of the six men were down and the other three were disappearing into the undergrowth from whence they came. Dannid moved up to the leader, now struggling as the thorns started to rip his clothes and pierce his skin. He cried for help. Dannid raised the blade and the man screamed for mercy. With a series of swinging cuts he freed the fool who stumbled out of the briar sobbing, the front of his pants wet with his fear. Dannid grabbed him by the neck of his now ripped and muddied shirt and lifted him to his feet and then into the air, his feet swinging helplessly as the giant held him. "Your action is punishable by death and I, as a Roamer, can exact that punishment according to the old law. Do you understand?" Dannid's face was only inches from the man's, as if with a sense of false bravado the bandit laughed with a slight hysteria on its edge. "We are protected by the Constables of Talmi if you cause us any harm you will have to answer to them." Dannid threw the man down and faster than the eye could see drew the long sword again and had cut an X on the man's forehead, blood spurted from the wound that was deep but not fatal. This would leave a scare that would never heal, the man had fainted. Dannid turned to the other two men, one obviously nursing broken ribs and the other would not be walking on his right leg for a while. Both were as white as sheets and trembled accordingly. Dannid sheathed his sword and turned to the others. "What is this that fool told me", he walked back, both men tried to move away but couldn't. Dannid grabbed the first and dragged him to his feet; his face grimaced with pain. "Is this true vermin?" The man nodded, Dannid let his drop and before he hit the ground he drew his short sword and performed the same graceful cuts on him. The last of the three whimpered and begged for mercy. Dannid knelt beside him. "Are you telling me that the constables are in league with brigands?" The man nodded tears streaming down his face. "What is the name of the leader?" the man shook his head pleading that if he told he would be signing his death pledge. Dannid
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grunted agreement and stood slowly and turned away, the man let out a sigh of relief, as he did Dannid turned and in a whirr of silver performed the same action. The man fell back in a dead faint. Jano had watched all this in awe; he had never seen Dannid like this but agreed with the swift justice he had metered out. After all the laws were exact when it came to such matters and Dannid could have killed them with complete jurist prudence. The very fabric of their society was woven with such laws and punishments and it had to be lest anarchy would reign. Still the impact of what the leader had said had hit home. Dannid grunted at the scene, the leader was moaning groggily and the man with the broken ribs sobbing like a child. The giant didn't say anything, he just walked on; Jano followed checking as he did whether the others were nearby but his proximity sense could not feel anyone. He mentioned this to Dannid in a whisper and the big man nodded his head, he knew that they would be running in the other direction. The knowledge of this situation sat heavy on his heart, he knew that he would have to turn a blind eye to this lest the quest be jeopardised, what was happening to cause such a rip in the moral fabric. Dannid didn't need the powers of a gifted to sense that this was just the start of an evil that was affecting the very roots of their culture. * * * * They had walked for another hour with nothing being spoken. Dannid was deep in thought, Jano sensed that he should say nothing and did as he sensed. They were now on the flat lands, the soil was the dark brown of the coastal fringes and Jano noticed that the crops were sparse on the ground due to the salt winds and rains that would surely occur here for the best part of the year. The track was wider and a number of small villages dotted it at random intervals. From the looks of things, each of these villages was involved in dedicated enterprises, the one they had just walked through was obviously involved in the weaving of the fine goat hair imported from the Nor' Lands and some of the others such things as wood work, tin smithing and forging. Talmi was the gateway to the Sou' Reaches and it was here that the raw materials were processed and made into the products the traders would then hawk the length and breadth of the territories. Drays and horse drawn carts clattered along the road and people travelled in either direction usually going to or coming from home and work.
"Jano, the chance encounter with our band of merry men has shown me that the old woman was as right as she has always been in such matters." He lifted the bladder above his head and shot a stream of water into his mouth with practiced ease. "We will have to move carefully. I cannot begin to come to grips with the idea of constables and brigands in bed together, what manner of evil is a foot?" Jano nodded, the feeling of dread he felt now was not a simple proximity warning. Over the last few days he had begun to realise that there was something searching, he couldn't be sure whether it was searching for him but is was there just the same.
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They stopped by a stream and rested, Jano filling the goat skin bladder with the crystal clear melt water and handing it to Dannid in the way of apprentice and master.
He knew that this force was looking for his light and he had had to force it into the recesses of his consciousness lest it answered the call and Jano had no doubt that the call was this evil that Dannid now acknowledged. He felt like he was being watched all the time, he felt scared. As if sensing the boys feelings Dannid put his arm around his shoulders, he said nothing. They walked on and the outskirts of Talmi began to form on both sides of the road. They hurried as they had to be dock-side before the tide and they had over two miles more to travel through increasingly crowded streets. Jano started to feel the pressure of the crowd, he had never before experience so many people, Dannid had slowed his stride so that the boy could form directly behind as he cleared the path through the traffic. The sounds and the smells meshed to form a potpourri of sensations Jano found both intimidating yet strangely invigorating and he felt his mind drifting on this uncharted sea of experiences. As they reached the docks the first of the night lanterns were being lit and a constant stream of dockers carried crates and boxes both aboard and off a number of craft on various wharfs. Dannid made his way to the harbour master's office at the entrance to the docks and established that the good ship Elvira was tied to Wharf Three and was due to depart on the tide and that they had best be quick as the water was peaking as they spoke. They made their way to the wharf to meet with the clerk in the booking stall near the gangplank. A line of travellers had formed in front of the desk and they joined the ranks accordingly. Dannid relaxed for the first time that day as they were now here and would soon be away. The captain, a short brown-skinned man, was leaning on the rail at the top of the gang-way smoking a small cigar and complaining to the clerk that they would miss the high water if he didn't get a move on. Aboard the ferry his crew were finalising the stowing of the cargo and atop the masts getting ready to set the sheets that were starting to flap in the offshore breeze that was a feature of the early evening at this southern port. * * * * The breeze carried the sounds of horses and rough calls and all around turned to see a number of men riding up to the wharf gate. Dannid frowned. The constables hauled up their charges and dismounted. There were three of them. They were dressed in the uniform of the law and strode onto the wharf with an arrogant purpose. Jano The Journey Begins - Page Dannid turned to face the trio as they walked up. The leader was a tall thin man. He had a face like a hawk and his hair and beard were as black as coal. His eyes darted around as he took in the scene and Jano noticed that Dannid had thrown his cloak back to reveal his "badges of office". The constable stopped just short of Dannid and the other two, younger men by half but with an equally formed and matured impertinence, moved to each side. The leader removed his gloves with a flourish and handed them to the man on his right. The good folk around looked down or away, Dannid sensed that this was not the way normal folk felt in the presence of this authority or at least how they should feel. Normally it was with an open heart that citizens greeted their constabulary, Dannid smelt fear. Just as hawk, as Jano now thought
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of him, turned to face them, Dannid smiled as good-heartedly as was his way and walked up to the man, sword arm extended in greeting. "Good constable, it is a pleasure to meet with you". The man looked at Dannid with a sneer on his face and didn't return the greeting. Dannid kept the smile on his face and stood his ground. Hawk went to move pass Dannid and Dannid stepped into his path, smile on his face and arm still extended. The look on the hawk's face was of surprise; surprise of a man who was used to people quivering in his presence. The other two had moved to each side of the leader and were doing their best to look fierce as if to amplify the situation. Dannid kept smiling; Jano had moved to his right and stood one step back. "Out of my way!" Hawk growled through clenched teeth, obviously a man used to his own way, Dannid kept smiling. He placed his hand on Hawk's shoulder and stopped him cold, still smiling. "Constable, have you forgotten your manners on such a fine night." Dannid still smiled and his voice was as sweat as honey but his hand pressed hard and Hawk grimaced. The other two had stepped back a step, obviously their training had only been during times of submissive behaviour and they didn't seem to know how to handle this at all. Dannid thrust his sword hand at the man again as he applied a little more pressure to his shoulder. A fine line of perspiration formed on Hawk's beak. This time the man took Dannid's hand and the giant let out a good hearted laugh, removing his hand from the other man's shoulder and transferring all his strength to the current interchange. "I am Dannid, a Roamer of the Sou' Reaches and as a law-fearing man I humble myself to the keepers of that law" More pressure and Hawk's eyes were watering. The crowd was watching nervously and with side-glances, none daring to become involved directly. "Come man, has the cat got your tongue, to whom am I offering my hand?" Dannid smiled and applied more pressure; he felt a bone crack and a grimace shot across the other man's face. "Convan, constable of Talmi." He said as he exhaled. The other two had recovered a little of their composure and once again tried to look aggressive. Dannid bellowed laughter again and slapped the hawk hard on his back almost knocking him off his feet. As the man stumbled Dannid turned and put his arm around his shoulder and hugged him against his side, completely controlling the man as he did so. "Look good folk of Talmi, the ancient camaraderie of the law and the Roamer." He turned away from the crowd and looked down at the now cowering face of the hawk, a hawk now with his wings clipped. "You and your sad excuses will leave here now with no more ado, do I make myself clear?" The man nodded his head and his eyes burnt with hatred so intense Jano could smell it on the Mage winds. A little colour returned to the man's cheeks and he snarled his rely. "You have just signed your death order Roamer on the Maker's name."
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Dannid sighed so quietly only Hawk heard it. "The old laws are absolute. You are a servant of the people not a persecutor; I am an upholder of the old laws as you know. I smell rot and decay on you constable and I only wish I could spend the time I would like to fix it. Speak with those I have marked today and be aware I know." The hawk struggled to free himself. "Please free yourself and draw your sword filth, I could then execute you in the ways of the old laws and I would then feel that I have done something about this mess." The man stopped struggling. "I am going to release you and you will go. Be warned that I will be back and I will prosecute who ever I have to too remove this blight on the old ways." Dannid let the man go and he staggered ever so slightly "Be warned Convan that I will come looking for you and I will extract from you the payment for your activities." he whispered to the man. Dannid turned and faced the crowd and then turned to the hawk again, this time bowing in the excepted fashion, turned and walked back to Jano. "Come on boy, let's go." They went to pay their passage; the clerk acknowledged the gold piece and pushed it back into Dannid's hand. "You will not pay after what you have done sir. Normal practice is for all passengers to pay a departure tax to the constables and you have interrupted their folly." Dannid noticed a number of coins loosely piled on the table. "Your fellow passengers have paid for you." Dannid offered his hand to the clerk and shook it gently. He turned his head in time to see the hawk pull himself into his saddle, his right arm lose at his side. Their eyes met, Dannid knew that he had opened a door that he would have to close. He sighed again. There was surely great evil a foot. * * * * She sailed with a stiff offshore breeze filling the sails. The moon was full and the waters of the harbour shone with a million lights from the cloudless sky. Jano had made his way to the bow and stood looking over the rail with the sweet kiss of the sea-spray warming his face. Dannid was back on the forecastle with the captain. They had taken a liking to each other the moment they were aboard, with the captain applauding the actions of the big man. "Aye, things are currently a long way from the old laws." The captain stood with one hand on the tiller watching the Load Stone needle in the compass every now and then. "The Mid Lands are not a happy place and the Nor' Reaches are filled with the corruption you have witnessed on this day." Dannid had told the captain of their encounter earlier that day, making a point to keep the part about the collaboration of the constabulary out of it, no sense in fuelling the ground-swell of fear that he had sensed growing since they left home.
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"Of course the Sou' Reaches have always had a reputation of strong morality and I am not surprised that you have heard little or nothing of the new order but rest assured my big friend, the likes of your constable are now the power brokers of Sinterland." The captain drew on his cigar, checking the heading again. Dannid nodded to no one in particular. He bid the captain his excuses and made his way down the forecastle steps to the deck proper. There were twenty-seven passengers in all on this voyage and most of them were lounging on the deck before evening meal. They all greeted Dannid as he walked up to the bow towards the Jano. He leaned on the bow rail next to the boy. "I'm afraid we may have opened a few doors today, Jano, seems that this evil Old Magla foresaw has a strong hold on things. I wonder why we of the Sou' Reaches have been left most undisturbed by it all?" The boy stared up to the heavens. "Because the Sou' Reaches are the strongest in the old ways." Dannid knew the answer, since the beginning of history the Sou' Reaches had been a magnet to the most fundamental of the Sinterlanders. The gifted of the Sou' Reaches were the strongest and their magic the most perfect. It was said that the original tribes were from the Sou' Reaches. The most attention was given to the old ways and an absolute honesty existed making the infiltration of any immoral practices most difficult, he nodded agreement. "Although I feel that there are pressures afoot to change all that." Jano's voice had a tone that Dannid had never heard before, it was the voice of a gifted; not the young boy and young man he had grown to love as his own son. It was at this point that Dannid realised that things would never quite be the same again. The sky was alight, bright enough to read by. After the evening meal, consisting of a fish stew and fresh damper cooked on a charcoal brassiere, Jano had made his way back to the crew deck and was talking with some of the men. Dannid let him be, he remembered the first time he had travelled at sea, much the same age as Jano now, the wild stories the sailors had shared, the sounds and the smells of it all. Dannid himself was tired and happily bid the gathering good-night and made his way below decks to the hammocks strung up in the long room where all the passengers and crew would sleep and shelter if the weather turned. Within minutes he was asleep. Jano listened and watched, was shown the constellations and told how the pilot used the heavens to keep her on course. He felt light-headed with the freshness of the air and the vibrations of the surroundings. All Sinterland ships were treated as living things. Her crew protected her absolutely. Unlike any other seafarers absolute attention was given to cleanliness and maintenance, each crewman knew the ship as a man would know his woman and life aboard a Sinterland ship was a pleasure, hard work, but a pleasure. Jano could feel the good magic in her heart. He could hear the happiness in her soul. It was at this time that he knew that he would spend a large part of his life seafaring or with seafarers. He sat back and listened to their talk, laughed at their jokes and drank hot cups of green tea with them, as the night became older.
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The bell sounded midnight and most of the crew had excused themselves and only the mid-watch were left. Young Samin, the apprentice of the captain, and Jano were standing on the forecastle leaning on the rail. Between them was the Loadstone compass pointing to the north. Samin and Jano had hit much the same stride as the captain, his name Kolmin, and Dannid had earlier. "Have you been at sea all your life?" Jano asked Samin who was holding the tiller tight against his side, the wind blowing his blonde hair around his neck, the breeze had stiffened and was moving her at a good pace. "Aye, I 'av Jano." His accent was strange to Jano's ear, he had never heard anything other than the Sou' Reaches and this was like a song to him; the Sou' Reaches considered loud and abrupt to most listeners. "Me mutha was killed in an accident when I was only three and me da couldn't keep me seeing as I was the youngest of four and me next brother was eleven, and the rest older." The boy leaned forward to check the compass and pulled the tiller a little to port, he then observed the mainsail still full and pushing hard. "He was a wood smith and my brothers were all in the craft but the work is hard and his time was needed for business. He sent me off to my aunt and I was apprenticed to Captain Kolmin on my eighth birthday." Jano nodded, such was the way of simple folk. His story not unlike Jano's except that by Samin's standards Jano's life was more comfortable as a youngen. Samin had told Jano that the captain was as strong as a mongrel pit dog and sometimes his temper was not much better but Jano had seen in his eyes and in his aura a love for the man in much the way Jano would have looked when talking of Dannid. The talked into the small hours of the morning; each comparing tales of their learning, Jano sharing the experiences of his sword making, feeling a little ashamed that he had to be dishonest with Samin, but aware of the importance of his mission. Samin pointed to the horizon and Jano focussed on a single bright red-blue star. "The Dog Star, it shines overhead the Mid Lands." Jano shook his head in disbelief, the distance seemed overpowering. Samin laughed and jibbed him as a typical land-locked Sou' Lander. Jano bid his new friend good night and made his way to the bow. He didn't want to sleep inside on this his first night away from land, he wanted to experience everything unimpeded. He lay in a coil of flax rope and pulled the rough but sweet smelling blanket Samin had given him over his body and looked up into the heavens. Sleep came quickly and he dreamed.
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CHAPTER FOUR
The sky was dark with thick black clouds swirling slowly but menacingly around the Dog Star. Jano floated above the ship looking down over the rigging, down towards the deck and his sleeping form. He felt the Mage winds cold and wet on his face. A bright light formed in the vortex of the clouds like a lantern in the darkest night. Jano could feel the warmth, made greater by the coldness of the Mage night. It came towards him quickly, the darkness closing behind it. Within seconds the austral form of the old man was floating in front of the boy. The old man extended his hand and smiled, Jano moved towards him but backed away when he noticed that the silver cord was not there. "Yes boy, I am departing this night after many years of life. It is only in death that I can come to you free from the watching that would follow normally." Jano felt the gentleness in the thoughts and move closer to the shimmering figure. "Hue, I cannot prepare you for what lays ahead. A rip in the fabric has opened the door for evil and black powers. You are the only person who can repair it." The thoughts stopped for a moment, a pause to construct the full picture maybe. "It may be that you cannot, but you must try just the same. Prepare well; learn what the School of the Inner Set can teach you. You have great powers but they are unsophisticated, learn the sophistication of the Inner Set; hide your powers from every one. When the time is right you must travel the lands of all reaches and collect the elements of The Right Way and perform the Act of Reunion. That is your quest, it may be your life's work, but it must be done." The spirit touched him on the face and he felt himself falling back towards his body, faster and faster until he hit and awoke sitting up with a start. He rubbed his eyes to see the greyness of the dawn lighting the worldly sky of his austral dream. The thunderheads were dark and full and a stiff breeze was blowing almost from the North, as if blowing them away from the Mid Lands. As the morning grew older the sea became heavy and the small ship jostled with the waters for an even keel. Most of the passengers were seasoned and the motion was not off-putting. One or two were new to the sea and spent the day hanging over the side of the boat, learning quickly the rules of wind and sea. Jano felt no discomfort, he thought maybe it was a part of his gift but Dannid confirmed that most Sou' Landers had a reputation for being good sea-farers and it was just good luck he was not sharing his meal with the fish. This leg of the journey was three days without landfall and was spent sailing way from the landmass to the east. On the evening of the third day a course change would be made and they would run with the evening blow into the warm and swift flowing currents that caressed the west of the Tirrom Archipelago. They would be docking at the tide mark the next day on the island of Greater Irom at the start of the main island chain. Here some of the passengers would disembark, some cargo unloaded and more taken aboard. Jano looked forward to this as it gave him a day to study the life on the island. Dannid had mentioned
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earlier, perhaps while they walked the road what seemed like years ago, that a master Kusso knifemaker was located on the headland and he would like very much to visit the old man. The threat of the storm never eventuated, much as the captain had predicted and the day settled into evening. Jano busied himself working at whatever job any crewman would be prepared to show him and was soon stripped to the waist with his hair held fast by a thick red band loaned him by Kremer, the first mate, who had taken him under his wing. Dannid lounged on the prow sharpening any blades that anyone would produce and, in all, the harmony of the cruise was established. The next day and the day after were much the same with the weather taking on the typical early summer characteristic of this region. Jano learnt the simple knots and was shown the fishing line techniques. Kremer mentioned to Dannid that Jano was the fastest pupil he had ever had and the giant nodded, remembering his experiences at the forge and the magical way Jano's hands would turn to the task with no error. Jano and Samin's friendship grew with each hour and they worked together at Samin's chores so that their time could be spent in the rigging lounging on the top pole, legs dangling thirty feet above the deck in the manner only possible in the fearless years of early manhood. The evening of the third night was light and the sky clear. Kolmin had ordered the course change after consulting the stars and his hide-map and an extra sail was released in the stiff breeze, floating in front of the headsail on long lines waiting for the wind to fill it up and increase the sail area by double. That evening they ate salted beef stew and damper and because it was the start of the summer month, traditional rice curd cakes filled with sweet spice sauce. The lights on the horizon heralded the landfall of Greater Irom and Kolmin was happy with their progress. He would receive a bonus for each hour he docked earlier than four days and it looked like he would be about six hours ahead of time, perhaps more because if he had to wait to the next tide it would have been late the next afternoon. They would be ready to dock at first tide that was before first light the next morning and would lay at anchor that evening about a mile offshore and light their navigation lanterns to warn the harbour master of their arrival on the tide turn. The crew all retired early because of the untimely start the next morning and Jano retired to his bed on the front deck and fell asleep almost immediately. By ten o'clock that evening the night crew had brought her about and dropped anchor. She was laid down within minutes with the sails draped and folded. A night watch was set and the ship slept for the first time in three hard days and four hard nights. She sighed as the wind rustled through the riggings and the swell massaged her timbered sides. * * * * * A light fog hugged the morning's first light; she ran in under a light headsail and was tied and made fast before the first of the dockers arrived for the morning shift. Dannid asked Jano and Samin if they would like to meet the old master, which of course they did. After Samin had completed his chores, Jano helping to speed the process, the three set out to find directions.
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Old Tonnim was a local legend and it took them no time at all to not only find directions but to win a lift on a hawker's cart heading off along the coast road to the head-land villages. The morning awoke slowly, wrestling with the fog for its share of the day. The coast road wended its way along the beaches of the west coast. The surf was clear and running at about two to three feet. The sands white and light grassy tundra ran from the beach up to the tall eucalypt forests that climbed the steep walls of the mountain range that formed the back-bone of the island. They passed a number of villages on the way. Simple people living simple lives. Dannid had mentioned that the dairy food of Greater Irom were said to be the best of the Sou' Reaches, something to do with the lusciousness of the coastal grasses. It was obvious that the main activities were dairy orientated with fat brown and white beasts filling the farm-yards and roaming lazily around the villages, all with the same flat-toned bell around their necks sounding the morning chorus as they strolled to and fro. The old man lived about an hour's journey from the port and the trip was relaxing. They reached the small village and found the house of the old man. He was truly an old man. Dannid had said that he was well past a normal life time and had stated with pride that the hard physical work a Kusso master has to perform was responsible their renowned longevity. The old man extended his hand to the giant and something in the handshake, something neither Jano nor Samin could see, announced Dannid's credentials much more than any words. It didn't take the two of them long to establish their bona-fides with the old man telling of his time spent with Dannid's father when they were both apprentices. Old Tonnim was also apprenticed to his father and his son and been apprenticed to him. His son was now living in the Mid Lands making knives and swords for the gentry. The old man spat as he said that. He didn't need to say that he had also adopted the style of the Tammar techniques, it was obvious in the way he didn't elucidate on his son's skills as would be normal in such a case. After a mid-morning meal of porridge followed by whole-meal bread, fresh yellow cheese, every bit as good as Dannid had promised, and hot green tea, the old man showed them around his house and workshop. Old Tonnim had spent fifty or sixty years perfecting a new technique for the souling and his blades were said to sing with a spirit that had never been heard before. He had handed Dannid a long sword he had just finished and invited him to strike the blade in a full blow on the anvil. At first Dannid refused it as a sacrilege to such workmanship but after a bit of encouragement from the old man he obliged. The blade rang like a town bell, filling the room with sound; the anvil was actually dented where the blade had bitten. Dannid inspected the edge and noted incredulously that there was not a mark. He handed the blade back to the old man with it extended across both hands and his head bowed, the way of an apprentice to a master. Old Tonnim waved away his salute but the boys could see the tear in the old man's eye. He obviously held Dannid in the same esteem and for Dannid to offer this gesture was the ultimate gift one master could offer another.
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The boys bid their excuses and agreed to be back before three in the afternoon as the hawker would be passing back then and they had to be back at the ship by tide turn. The two men went back into the main room to discuss the techniques Old Tonnim had perfected. Kusso masters shared all secrets with their peers, Old Tonnim greeted the opportunity with happiness and Dannid looked forward to learning the secret. All this was done with honour, such was the Kusso way. They walked down to the beach and made their way along the water's edge walking towards the point in the distance. After a time, they noticed some ruins in the forest and decided to investigate. The sun was overhead and the day warming to hot. Both had stripped to bear-chest and could feel the heat and humidity of the forest, smelling sweet and full of eucalyptus. The canopy removed the sting of the sun and the shade was pleasant to the eyes after the glare of the water and sand. A path led from the beach to the ruins. Jano could see straight away that they were of an old sun temple, very old; he could feel the strength of its soul. For the first time since leaving the village he allowed his power to come into his front mind. He closed his eyes and drank in the spirit of the place. It was good, he felt safe. Samin had wandered off to study the ancient writings engraved into the stones of the altar block and Jano sat against the west wall and meditated. He relaxed and drank in the Mage waters. He could hear and smell the ancient sounds and smells. After a while he returned and sprang back into normal consciousness. Samin had found his own place to relax and Jano could see that he was asleep. He got to his feet and walked around the walls touching the words of the old ways. The symbols were foreign but the vibrations familiar. He caught a glint in the corner of his eye and followed it to a pile of stones near the altar. Pushing away the rubble he unearthed a piece of Lock Stone in the shape of a perfect sphere, about the size of an apricot pip. He could feel the Mage warmth. How long had this talisman been hidden? Jano knew this was an earth stone, a Gifteds channelling device; they came in many shapes and sizes and were used to focus power. How such a valuable artefact could come to be here was beyond him. He held it in his hands and placed it against his forehead. Closing his eyes he focussed on the stone. The old man of the morning's dream appeared and was gone. So it was his. Was it left there all those years before for Jano to find, to use as a tool, to the normal man such things would seem preposterous but Jano didn't give it a second thought, such was the power of the gift. Jano opened his eyes and removed the stone from his forehead. As he did the wind blew up and the sun disappeared behind a cloud that only seconds before had not existed. The stone dulled and started to pulsate with a dark light. Jano stood transfixed, his eyes rolled back into his head. He fell into the stone, down towards the dark. He heard a voice, it was old speak, make the face of the holder clear a chant, a spell, he realised he had done the wrong thing. Even though the stone was the Masters, it was a channel vibrating with the master's soul. Someone was using it to reverse the power, how could this be, such magic was beyond anything Jano could imagine. He felt the Mage wind rushing past his face, in the distance a pin prick of light was forming,
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he knew that this would grow and he would be face to face with the spirit of the person with this unspeakable power. He tried with all his will to break the spell, the light grew stronger, the pinprick larger. Jano forced himself back with all his will. He couldn't do it. "Jano!" He felt himself being shaken vigorously, so much so that the stone dropped from his hand and he was focussing on the face of his friend. "What's wrong boy you were shaking like a leaf; scared the Maker out of me." Jano dropped to his knees and continued to shake like a leaf. The stone sat on the ground passive and beautiful with its golden yellow colour flecked with the telltale dark brown veins. All was well, as Jano remembered a friends love breaks many a spell. He was lucky, he had almost come face to face with the power he was committed to stopping. He realised just how close he had come to failure. He knew now just how careful he would have to be. He sat for a minute, reassuring his friend he was fine; perhaps a touch of the sun. He picked up the stone and put it into his bag. It was a powerful talisman; he just had a lot to learn. * * * * * The archipelago ran to the horizon. Some of the islands as big as and perhaps a little larger than Greater Irom, some so small that at high tide a heavy surf crashed across them from side to side. Jano sat on the top pole with Samin; for as far as the eye could see the Tirrom Archipelago stretched. In the distance, perhaps a hundred miles to the east, the glimmering heat of the Brazilliam wastelands scorched the horizon. Kremer had spoken of the wastelands. Of the unknown death that stalked its shores. He had seen them once and once only many years before when a ferry he was crewing had lost steerage and was forced towards the coast. They had fixed the problem on the third day and were within five miles of landfall. The sea was filled with dead birds and fish, a portent of the danger that waited. They anchored for the tide turn as the wind was westerly and the small craft could not tack with the makeshift riggings. They spent the day within sight of this land. For as far as the eye could see it was sand, becoming sand dunes that became desert, not a blade of grass or a tree to be seen. The heat haze shimmered above the ground and radiated out across the water taking the heat of the day and increasing it to unbearable. The early evening bought the expected coastal winds and nothing could have prepared them for the force of the wind as it left the coolness of the sea and rushed on shore to replace the hot air that rose into the night sky. For hours the riggings screamed and protested the torture. As the tide turned they ran away with the offshore breeze of the late evening. Kremer shivered and made the sign as he finished the story. "Not a Maker's place my boy, no man can go there.
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The days followed a simple routine, Jano felt himself fitting into this life as naturally as a baby walks. For six days they ran along the west coast of the island chain, docking from time to time at the larger of the islands. Occasionally they were met a mile or two from shore by families in large dugout canoes to take on provisions and trade the jewels of the sea they had harvested. Jano had no appreciation of what value a piece of sea shell could possible have as jewellery and finery were not part of the Sou' Reaches customs but Dannid had explained that these trinkets were sought in great numbers in the Mid Lands. Kolmin traded fairly with these people and the exchanges were fascinating to watch. Great horse-trading took place with much bartering and argument. Finally the deal was struck and green tea taken to seal the affair. Kolmin had a reputation to protect and appeared aloof and hard. Samin told Jano of the times that these people had had no wares to trade, being as proud as they are they didn't ask for or expect charity. The captain would invite the father aboard and offer stern and gruff apologies for having paid an unfair price on the last trip. How the stones and shells had fetched a better price than he had expected and how it was the law of the sea to take only what you need and repay what you take. With the apology excepted and the flour and other small luxuries fitted into the long boat, the family would come aboard and drink green-tea, the captain at the head of the small table appearing as stern and as aloof as ever. And so the cycle went, Jano felt warmth for these people, these were true friends. * * * * On the seventh day the ship was headed away from the archipelago on a nor west bearing. Jano had learnt to read the compass a little and was enjoying the whole experience of sea faring. There was about two hundred and fifty miles of open sea before the west-most inhabited point of the knownworld would be reached. This run was not the most popular amongst the crew. Jano had listened with rapt attention as the men smoked their pipes and spoke of the pit-falls and dangers of travelling away from land-sight; the unknowns, the legends, the sea with all its uncertainties. While the land smells were heavy on the breeze these were just stories, part of the ritual of the evening rest, now with a heavy sea, a strong westerly wind and the hull shuddering in its fight with the swell, they took on a persona heretheto hinted at but not understood. Jano noted a certain trepidation, it was visible in all the auras he was watching, the crew were to a man withdrawn and pensive, the captain spent a lot more time on the watch, the passengers, a lot fewer since they left Illiana and turned away from the normal route to run the "Kefa Gap", quiet yet watching every event with the dedication of a government tax inspector. Dannid had spoken to Jano about this the night prior to leaving Illiana. Elvira was running the "stone passage". Each captain had to take a turn on this run once a year. Kefa was nothing more than a rocky outcrop in the middle of a vast sea. Its only claim to fame being a fine sand-stone that was quarried by the islanders and traded for the essential goods that were filling the holds as they spoke sitting on the dock near the harbour
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master's office. With the twenty-seven ships that formed the island ferries Kefa was visited about twice a month, weather permitting, and it was Elvira's turn. The problem facing them was that if they left Elvira they would have to wait about two days before the next north-bound ferry arrived and, as Dannid explained, he was sure that any ship from the south would carry a spy or spies endeavouring to catch up with and observe the Roamer and his apprentice. The four days added to their total time by this diversion was more than compensated for by the safety of a known crew, a crew that, even if they were spying for whom ever such people spy for, were going exactly the same place they were. Jano listened and understood the logic. He had difficulty thinking of any of the men he had come to know over the last week or so as being spies but he remembered the lessons of the road. He knew he couldn't trust anyone, shouldn't trust anyone; so be it. They stayed aboard Elvira and were now a day out with no land within two hundred miles, a strong wind blowing and a crew of men who, for the first time since Jano had been on the vessel, were not that happy to be there. A good six-foot swell was running and their heading was across the line about thirty degrees. The ship was breaking through the top of the white caps and spraying the deck almost all the way to the bridge. All the deck crew wore oilskins and, to a man, the rest of the ship's company were in the long room, talking little while they sipped strong hot green-tea, waiting their turn on deck. Kolmin had order three-hour rotations during the rough running and the relief were exhausted when they dropped onto the long room from the stairwell that opened onto the deck just behind the mast. Jano busied himself keeping the tea hot and making sure the fire in the brassier was under control at all times. This was for two reasons, first, the pitching and rolling was extreme and second, the major part of this cargo was black-powder for the quarries and no one needed to reinforce in his mind the importance of keeping the embers in the metal bowl. Sleep was hard to come by but it had to be had and the men would catch it when they could. Jano had learnt to "sleep like a sailor" over the last few days and was sharing the same three hour rotation with Samin tending the brew and keeping the long room prepared. Early on the morning of the third day the weather had turned slightly and softened as if greeting the mellow morning with a special gift. The wind blew true on their heading and the crew rigged her for wind ward sailing. She was gliding through the swell, now a paltry two feet and smoothing, and life on board was a little more relaxed. Kolmin had relaxed the watch and sent most of the crew to rest manning the helm himself with just a mainsail trimmer and a lookout on the bow. Jano had slept fitfully and awoke mid-morning to the smell of sweat buns cooking in the long room. Dannid had set a batch on the hot shield used for broiling and the smell of the sweet spices filled the air. After wishing those in the long room a good morning and helping himself to two warm buns and a cup of green tea, Jano made his way to the bridge where Kremer was manning the helm and the captain standing alongside studying the chart and "reading the sea".
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"A good and fair morning to you master apprentice, and did you sleep with the good ones?" Kremer nodded to the boy, the captain looked up for a moment and then returned to his charts. "Aye I did sir and a good morning to both my teachers." Jano answered in the familiar tense of a young man to respected elders. Kremer smiled at this, seamen rarely followed the strict etiquette of the landsman with Kremer spending most of his time questioning every ones genealogy, sometimes going back a few generations if the miscreant's actions were inadequate enough. "It's a civil tongue you have in your head boy, 'tis a shame you're a landlubber, I could do with a lad like you to troop with young Samin, the two 'o you are a team as good as any I've seen in an age. Now go and get the captain and the master of the watch one of those landlubbing buns and a mug of hot tea afore I forget my manners and take a swipe at your arse with me boot." Jano smiled as he turned and jumped just in time to miss the playful swing of the master's boot, the captain grunted a light-hearted approval at both the suggestion and the punishment, commenting on Kremers slowing down with age, as Jano bolted down the stair onto the mid-deck and into the long room to fulfil the chore. He was proud of the complement he had just been paid. He would be sorry to leave Elvira when the time came. There was no doubt in his mind that he had the sea in his soul, perhaps a past life had served it, perhaps a future one was destined for it, only the higher seers would know, perhaps one day he would find out, but for now he would relish in the experience and live the time accordingly. Dannid had told him many years ago, perhaps during his stay in his tenth year, he remembered that is was while they were bedding down after the last of the embers had died and when friends talk in the dark in soft muted tones, when those special secrets are shared or those private dreams given wings. "A man has no more than five friends in his life, any more and he can't service the responsibility that comes with it." He had asked Dannid what that meant and the big man just sighed and said he didn't really know but Jano would when the time came. On reflection, Jano thought that he understood a little of it, as a gifted he understood the responsibility of office, the reliances people formed. He also had a hint of this reliance being a completely impersonal thing. Any gifted would do providing they could move the canker on the horse's rump thus the office was the issue, the gifted simply the medium. Jano The Journey Begins - Page Friendship, on the other hand had little or no office, no trappings, it just existing for its own sake. Jano had experienced it for the first time with Samin. Of course Dannid was his friend but that relationship was beyond friendship; perhaps all friendships would go beyond friendship after a time. Samin was the first true friend Jano had ever had and he was starting to understand the responsibility was not like anything he had ever experienced. Just being friends was all, neither asking for anything from the other yet appreciating it if offered. The way the conversation carried on from the place it left off even after watch breaks or sleeping, the silent understanding of each others thoughts.
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Yes; Jano could see that as a man grew closer to a friend the friendship could become a heavy responsibility because the friendship itself was built on experiences and the sharing of these experiences gave each other more of the other's spirit, the shortcomings with the strengths. Jano could feel this now, he could see that he only understood a grain of what amounted to be a beach, but he could understand. It was this understanding that caused Jano's moments of guilt and sadness as the friendship grew, the secret bonds formed; with Jano's side built on falsehood. Jano knew that this was a just and needed falsehood but it didn't reduce the emotion any, not now that he had is first inkling of what true friends were all about. He returned to the deck with the buns and tea and the men extended their thanks in an unfeigned way. The captain bid both a good morning and retired to his cabin for some sleep, leaving instructions to be wakened in about five hours which on his reckoning would have them about ten sea miles from land. Kremer had studied the maps with the captain and agreed. Jano could see that these two men were friends. Kremer gave Jano the helm as he had his break and commented on the talents of the giant as a cook. Jano nodded, having spent many meals with Dannid at his house, feasting on his cooking as Dannid was proud of this talent and loved to give it a run every now and then. The wind had stiffened slightly but was not unpleasant, whats more it was flattening the swell and she was making smooth water at good speed. "Look Master, a sea-bird". Jano pointed to a large Kestrel like bird off the port bow. Kremer nodded and explained that she was a long flier capable of spending days as sea soaring on the sea breezes and sleeping on the swell. "She's good luck Jano, a friend to us." Upon which he yelled to the bow watch to run below and fetch a bucket of grain which the man did and then threw over the side, she flew alongside and then swooped on the grain and took a number of passes as she ate the tit-bits. "Aye, a good omen Jano, any quest will now complete, and seeing as you were the first sight, the luck is yours, use it wisely". Jano nodded and watched the majestic shape as it soared and swooped on the grain flowing over the wake behind the ship. A good omen is a good omen, so be it.
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CHAPTER FIVE
Kefa loomed ahead. Loomed was the only word that could describe it. The island was just an outcrop of sandstone rising from the sea. The west side a wall straight up for hundreds of feet, the ocean bashing itself senseless against the base of the cliff. Except for a harbour on the eastern side the coast was cliffs. There was no way to land anywhere except at the port of Lorne. The way to the port was the most treacherous of any and no captain, including Kolmin, would dare it unless an experienced pilot was aboard and then only with the calmest of conditions. The day was ending and a sea anchor was dropped to keep them about ten miles to the sou' east. The tide would be high at seven bells in the morning watch and that was when they would enter. In the distance a small sail craft was heading towards them. This would be the pilot, as Kremer had explained their arrival could have been seen from fifty miles out and there was a constant ship watch from the middle of the island. Kefa was about fifteen miles in area and almost a perfect circle. It was for the most past pure sandstone of the finest quality. The people who lived on the island mined it and so had their forebears since history began. There was no way an outsider could obtain mining rights without the express permission of the court of the inner set on the recommendation of the Kefa elders. In know history only five new leases had been granted. The people were kind and civilised; surprisingly so for such remote folk. The elders held council over the affairs of the island and their word was law. This was truly a land on the edge of the world. Jano had heard many stories about the people of Kefa. The blond hair and blue eyes so rare mongst the realm. Kefa was also known for their giants with most island men reaching six and a half feet. Dannid was just such a giant and to the best part of Jano's memory he could not remember seeing anyone as tall as he. As the pilot boat approached Jano watch with awe as the three men bought her around and docked to leeward. These men were giants all right. Each one was Dannid's height at least and one, the eldest and the master pilot taller again. Jano was going the way of all tall men. A strapping six feet and on his way further but these men made him feel tiny. They climbed aboard and Kolmin met them with a subdued friendship that many such encounters guaranteed. The group, including Kremer and Dannid, retired to the main cabin as Jano and Samin tended the boat and climbed into the riggings to try and get a better view of the island ahead. The weather was fresh but blowing from the east and bringing with it the warmth of the landmass of the archipelago. As the night fell lights flickered from the island ahead and sound of friendly talk wafted up from the deck hatches above the long room mingled inexorably with the scent of sweet spices and honey mead. The ship drifted into sleep with the stars lighting the world like a million Mage candles. *****
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The next morning the wind had veered and was blowing gently from astern. The crew rigged a jib and a small topsail and she made slow yet controlled progress towards the leeward harbour. Many small boats bobbed on the gentle swell as the island's inhabitants made use of the sea. Some were fishermen but most sailed for pleasure, a past time actively enjoyed by all; there really wasn't much else to do on an island that size. Jano watched the brightly coloured racing craft as they ducked and weaved around the ship. Three people crewed these sweet little boats that seemed mostly sail and would leap from the water with power and speed. Sailing leisurely to port and making sure not to luff on her was a fleet of larger cruisers with brightly coloured spinnakers flying and the decks agog with happy faces. The more Jano saw of the sea the more he liked it. The passage from the lay-off anchorage to the first of the offshore reefs took about three hours with no great rush. The tide was running and the pilot had judged his time well. Elvira made good water at the main reef and rounded the headland into the natural amphitheatre that was the port of Kefa. The cliffs loomed out of the morning mist and seemed to disappear overhead. Directly off the bow were the harbour and the dock lands. The docks ran the length of the northern cliff face and consisted of buildings and warehouses literally carved from the sandstone that made the island. Jano could see avenues and streets criss-crossing the cliff face winding their way to the top and to the town proper. All up the cliff houses and buildings perched seeming to be extruded from the very rock. Nothing could prepare anyone for this sight, nowhere else was such engineering undertaken. They docked beside a pier made of sandstone, wood was a luxury here and stone that would have been worth a man's wage for a year in the reaches, used to replace it. The people of Kefa were tall and strong. What's more Jano could feel the goodness here. For the first time since leaving home he felt a quieting of the spirit. This place was good. The men of the ship were all busy and Samin and Jano were given leave to explore until the afternoon and the next tide. They didn't need much prompting and ran off into the mass of people filling the morning streets of this sandstone monolith. The smell on the air was mostly fish. Market stalls were selling fish of all types, small open fires were being used to warm a fish stock that was sold by the mug, crabs, shell fish and large thick steaks more like meat than fish flesh were heated on metal plates and served with a creamy sauce. The boys bought some and sat on some bales at the entrance to the main wharf. An old beggar sat across from them, legs crossed and back bent, his clothes old and dirty with the dust of many years of wandering, his large felt hat covering his face and shoulders. A small tin cup sat at his feet and he was playing sweetly from a small flute-like pipe. The music was a sort of seashanty but laced with a melody that Jano found haunting. Few people paid the man much attention with a passer-by occasionally dropping a small coin into the cup with a metallic counter-point to the tune. Jano reached into his tunic pocket and found a small silver piece. He walked to the fishmonger and purchased a large piece of Silver Fin, a dark skinned deep water fish from the cool seas to the south, a piece of flat bread and a cup of broth. He walked up to the beggar and knelt beside him.
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"I don't have much money to spare, elder, but playing such as yours must make you hungry." Jano placed the small feast beside the man, his speech was that of respectful younger to elder. He sprang to his feet as the old man stopped playing and looked up. The face beneath the large brimmed hat was old and wizened the eyes a deep blue shining warmly in the morning sun. He put the flute down and picked up the stoneware mug in both hands using the heat to warm his palms from the chill of the young morning. "Thank you young man, money can only ever be a gift," he said with a softness that most people passing, even the nearest, would not hear "food is always shared with kindness and with kindness I thank you for your concern." The boy sat back on his haunches as the old man drank from the mug. After a while the man turned to Jano, he put his hand on the boys arm and said "Your journey is just starting young Hue." Jano startled at the sound of his "real" name, the old man tightened his grip ever so slightly and Jano felt a warmth fill him, a serenity descended over him like a warm eiderdown on a cold night "I am sad to feel your home sickness; it is a shame that you have had your youth stolen from you." The man let his arm go and took a piece of the fish, offering some to Jano as he did. "But these times require sacrifices from us all. You will travel a long way, see so much and your life will be as full as fifty others. I feel your heart is good and your powers are as strong as I knew they would be." Jano's head swam as he realised who this man was, or at least who he thought he was, the scroll in his chest sash warming him like hot coals "But you must beware, the dark is getting stronger, it knows there is a champion coming, it will do everything it can to find you and stop you. You must be strong Jano; you have to learn to be strong. The Masters of the Inner Set will show you some of the ways; you will have to learn the rest as you go. I hope you will learn them before you need them." The old man reached into his tunic and removed a flute similar to the one he had been playing except this one was much older and appeared to be split beyond any tuneful use, he passed it to Jano "Take this young sir," his voice was much louder now, some passers by turned to watch as the hurried passed. Jano took the flute; it was warm in his hand. The old man lowered his voice, "things are not as they seem Hue, be careful of your trust, use your heart, it is your strongest gift. Don't think to much, act from your heart and keep your true skills hidden." The old man looked down again, the street noises that had become so muffled as they spoke broke into the spell and filled the day again, he was just a beggar again, the light was gone, normality returned. Jano went to say something but the beggar help up his hand and waved him away. "Go away boy do you think you can own me with some stinking fish and pissy broth, away with you!"
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He started playing again and Jano rose to his feet and walked back to Samin. Rubbing the flute in his palm "things are not as they seem" echoing in his thoughts. They walked to the top of the cliffs and along the highway towards the centre of the island. There was little or no agriculture and most of the cartage was being performed by tall island men pushing a squat four-wheeled barrow. Some of them were large enough as to require the services of three or four men, most one man'ers will all this manual labour being performed with a pleasantness of spirit that Jano sensed was unique in the 'Reaches. They found the main quarries and watching in awe at the ant men working in the depths of the great open cut, carving the finest of the fine stone sought the length and breadth of the Sinterlands. Jano was amazed at the rubble strewn on the sides of the road, rocks the size of a hand that would have been worth a cow in the Sou' Reaches. This was his first understanding of the laws of supply and demand. He had started to pick up the best pieces as they walked filling his hands and his sack, almost greedily at first until he was overloaded, then he started to swap some of the pieces, as he found better; his appreciation of the value of these things outweighing his common sense. Finally, after much light-hearted baiting from Samin realised the silliness of this course and threw them all away, commenting as he did that he had just thrown away a stable of the finest milking cows. A passer-by watching this stopped and offered the boys a drink from a skin hanging from the side of his cart. "Well look at the off-islanders," his accent was sweet and melodic, not an once of severity in it, "they have yet to realise that a man cannot eat rock." He laughed aloud; the boys joined him, Jano a little self-conscious at the futile greed that had overtaken him for the briefest of times. The man, an elder of probably sixty years was balding with skin the colour of tanned hide. His face was bearded and he wore the "uniform" of the islanders, flannel pants with leather seat and knees, rough serge shirt and leather waistcoat. He sat with the boys for a while, quizzing them of their travels and stories. He ohed and arh'ed at all the reports both offered, all the time passing the skin and drinking the sweet meed inside. He had told the boys that this was soft mead and was not alcoholic. Jano told the man his cover story, once again feeling the slightest twinge of guilt as he did so. After about a quarter of an hour they rose to their feet and started to walk back to the port. Samin and Jano took turns in pulling the cart that, considering it was loaded to the brim with the purest sandstone was as light as a feather. Travvallar, the elder, had introduced himself earlier but both boys kept the first person respectful "Elder" in their speech, had explained that the reason for this wonder was not magic but simply the use of bearings turned from the finest of the lower rock. The metal axles were running on the finest sandstone as bushes. Any friction was removed by the use of butterfat grease and the whole load balanced on the short wheel-based carts. He had marvelled when the boys both expressed amazement at this system when he considered it so commonplace. Still, as Jano now understood, this man had no appreciation of how much such bearings would cost elsewhere.
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At the entrance to the town near the top of the cliffs the path forked and the man bid the boys farewell thanking them for their welcomed help. As he did he reached into the depths of the cart and handed them both two pieces of black-lode. This was the most exotic of the entire world's stone. Jano looked at it with his mouth open, the old man laughed as he walked away, turning and waving before he disappeared into the town. Samin handed his piece to Jano. "It's of no use to me Jano, just more weight on a small ship." If there was to have been any lesson for Jano that day it was in the words of the Mage "nothing is as it seems." Jano looked at the stone; enough to buy a farm in the village and stock it for a winter. Yet it was just so much rock to these people, harvested to trade for the things they needed or found important. To Samin it was nothing more than a trinket that had little or no use aboard a ship on the high seas. As Jano stared at it he saw less and less of the materialistic value and just saw stone. "You can't eat rock" echoed in his thoughts. He shrugged and pushed the stone into his sack with a careless gesture that until a minute prior he could never have done. All of a sudden any materialistic bonds that may have bound his soul seemed to be exorcised. For a young man such lessons are strange but Jano felt a joy in the experience. Perhaps this was part of a spell that was weaved that morning, perhaps this was simply a lesson that any normal young man could learn, he didn't know for sure only time would tell. * * * * * They made the ship in plenty of time and helped with the rigging and loading. Dannid was below decks and the boys took a late lunch with him after most of the tasks had been performed and she was ready to sail, waiting for the tide to turn. Jano took the stone from his sack and handed to his guardian. Dannid nodded at the gift. "Do you know what you have just given me apprentice?" Jano nodded as he bit heartily into a piece of hot spicy flat bread covered in tomato and herbs. "Just some rock master, and do you know it isn't half as good as this bread". The giant threw his head back and as he laughed a giant's laugh slapped his ward on the back not hard but enough to make the boy slump forward. "My Gods the boy is mad" he laughed some more with Samin and Jano joining in. "But a wise man is mad; he has to be because wisdom's simplicity has to be explained away as craziness. After all what would the world be with no," Dannid gestured with over-emphasis towards the stone, "appreciation of the finer things of life". The three of them laughed and joked for a while then the sound of the bell from the deck heralded all stations. They quickly cleared the table and made their way above decks. Dannid put his big arm around Jano's shoulder and gave his the gentlest of hugs.
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"A lesson well learnt Jano, now you understand one of the secrets of a Roamer, as my father told me and I now tell you, A man will never go hungry if he has no riches. Jano understood the true meaning of the lesson now. He had heard the expression before but would never be rude and say that he didnt understand, after all Dannid derived great delight from sharing these secrets with him and Jano did to, but, now, he understood. The only time anything is valuable is when you are not prepared to part with it; the moment you do it stops being worth anything. In the many years to come, during his travels near and far Jano would touch the riches of the known world but he never again craved for anything, always prepared to give it away for the smallest of considerations usually a bed and some food. As the years passed the lesson would become lost in many adventures but today, as he ate the flat bread and handed Dannid enough black stone to provide a marriage dowry, he learnt the true worth of things, he never forgot it. As he sat in the rigging with the sea breeze blowing his hair and the sun setting behind lighting the island in an orange glow. His hand rubbed the flute the Mage had handed him that morning. The multi-coloured craft racing beside and in front sang as they slapped and jumped over the light swell. Jano considered that in his pouch and his chest sash he held his worldly possessions yet he felt like a king. * * * * * She turned to port around the headland and was now in the full sea, no longer shielded by the cliffs ran into heavier water and stronger breeze. A full set of sails were set and Jano climbed down to the deck. Dannid was standing at the bow leaning on a sheet, Jano now knew that was what ropes were called on a ship. Jano walked up to the man and stood beside him. The giant turned to the boy. "Two more days, young Jano, and we are at the main port." He turned and put his arm around the boys shoulder just as he had done earlier that afternoon. "I love you like a son and I will do all I can to protect you. Alas I will have to leave you in two days and I will not rest fitful until you have done what needs to be done and you are home at my forge." A tear ever so slight had formed in the man's left eye. Just as soon as it started it disappeared and Dannid blustered his good-hearted bellow, let him go and strode off towards the cabin and some hard meed. That was the closest Dannid had ever come to Jano and he was both happy and sad. Happy because he loved the man like he did his father and sad because he knew that his journey was only just beginning. The maker only knew when he would be able to work at the forge again, perhaps never, who knew. Jano found it hard to believe that it was only a few weeks since all this started it seemed like a lifetime already. Perhaps it would take a lifetime to finish; only time would tell. * * * * * The next day saw the sky bright and clear with Elvira making way sweetly through a soft sea. Only a day and a half was left before they would reach the main harbour of the inner set and a day on the
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road before the white walls of the capital. Dannid sat quietly next to the boy, both looking out over the bow, looking into the future both near and far. He put his hand on Jano's shoulder. "'Tis a day till we dock boy and then you must make your way to the capital. I cannot come with you. I'm sure that the news of our episode with the constables will have beaten us and I had best stay on board and travel to the North. There are friends I have there who will help me in doing something about all this," he gestured with his hands, obviously looking for an adjective to describe what he saw as an attack on the very fabric of his existence, "contemptuous state of affairs." Jano had sensed in his teacher melancholia of late and now understood it was caused by the realisation that something would have to be done. The friends to the north were most likely the Kentish Lords, part of the Casal Island's group, an area known for its primitive culture, at least when compared to the opulence of the Inner Set, but renowned for honest and fair play. Dannid had often spoken of his time in the North, learning the crafts and arts of these men among men. The Mid Landers treated them with distain and this was because first, the Kentish had no need or desire to align themselves with any of the power factions currently driving the political engines of the Sinterlands and second, these rough handsome people were the cultural stock of the known world. These warrior poets and soldier artists could beat any man in war, love and art. Because of their unassuming nature and ascetic social structure; a large number of tribes forming a loose and ever moving Dukedom; people of lesser talents in all these things latched onto the rudeness of their dress, language and lifestyle; encouraging prejudice and misunderstanding. If the Kentish warrior was not such a force to reckon with Dannid had assured Jano that the race would have been eliminated or integrated generations ago. Instead they had stubbornly existed as they had done for hundreds of generations, all of which could be studied in the family scrolls, with whole tribes able to trace their reliance on each other back to the distant beginning of the current times. Dannid was going north that was for sure. Jano had known that they would soon part but this was the first time the realisation of it had weight. The big man must have felt the boys thoughts and put an arm around his shoulder pulling him in under his massive arm. "Buggar it lad, I love you like my own son and the Maker knows that I would not leave you alone with the burden of your journey, I can't even say I understand the full meaning of it all. I feel the heaviness in the air and know that it's bad. Why you have been chosen I can't say and I would give my life gladly to protect you as I know you would for me." Jano felt his heart grow heavy and his eyes started to water in response to the man's simply honesty; love. "But this is something you are going to have to do alone. I will impede your progress and I cannot be responsible for bringing attention to you. I will try to keep in touch but I know now that I have my own mission, what we saw happening in the South Reaches has not been a part of our society for a hundred generations and it must be stopped, perhaps we are both charged with the same quest, to root out the cause of this cancer and rid us of it."
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Dannid stood up and spat into the water. The spell was broken, the seriousness of his thoughts and the intensity of his love hidden from every one. "Come on boy, get your master tea and sweet cakes" he raised his voice for the benefit of the fore deck crew "before I take a foot to your arse." He playfully swept his leg at Jano who had sprung to his feet and had jumped over a coil of ropes and was sprinting back towards the companionway to the galley. The men laughed good-naturedly at the show although Jano knew that this was possibly the last time he would have with the man and he felt sad, sadder than ever before, perhaps for the first time in his life cursing the power that made him gifted, causing him to leave his youth behind and catapult him into manhood. Such thoughts are a little adult for a boy of his short years but that was how he felt in essence if not character. The rest of the journey was uneventful; Jano and Samin had started the process of saying goodbye in the morning of the last day. Samin had been moody and had snapped at Jano as he set the tinder in the brazier. Jano had barked back with the pair of them storming out of the galley and pouting at different ends of the ship for half a watch. Finally they were reconciled at morning change with each apologising and wrapping their arms around each other in the awkward way young men, still unsure of their sexuality will do, as they explore the way men can hold other men as a testament to their friendship, in a totally masculine way. Samin admitted that he would miss his new friend and Jano declaring that he would love to stay aboard. Dannid had constructed a story that he was travelling to visit his old dying master in the North and had apprenticed Jano to a Kusso school in the highlands beyond the white city for two years, this allowed the circumstances a pedigree and removed any curiosity any interested party would have. As the day moved on the horizon filled with land and slowly sounds and smells of same filled the air. Fishing boats began to appear and move past and sails were furled as boat speed was decreased. Just after noon a pilot came aboard and took tea with the captain and first mate, soon after taking the deck as she moved into the shallow waters of the offshore reefs that were the hallmark of this part of the ocean. Elvira sailed a crooked course as the pilot, an old man with coal black hair and leathery skin expertly feed directions and shouted commands to the crew. Jano and Samin were in the gods, sitting on the top sheets watching the land unfold before them. Jano could see the coast and further inland the mountains of the Errena ranges. He knew that the White City was at the foothills of the nearest peak but it was too far to see any sign of the fabled white walls and red roofs. Samin pointed out the harbour mouth and started to explain the different fishing boats and their catches. Jano drank in the information like a man heady with meed until a shout from the deck bought him back to reality. Dannid was standing with the captain and called for the boys to come down.
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The captain took Jano by the arm and hugged him roughly and walked away, not saying a word except for an almost silent grunt. Dannid smiled and walked away as well. This was the closest a sea man came to saying thank you, the behaviour was strange to Jano but of late he had come very good at accepting strange behaviour for its own sake and felt the warmth and camaraderie that it had expressed. Samin followed and the boys embraced again, this time stronger than before and a little more like men. Samin went back to the rigging and climbed up ready to stow the Jib. Jano had already packed his gear and leaned over the deck rail as the harbour moved closer. He could now hear the voices of the stevedores in the distance and the gently ringing of the bells from the harbour buoys. A number of land birds flew beside the sea gulls as they darted and soared on the offshore thermals. Dannid walked up beside the boy and leaned next to him. "Well, boy, soon you will be ashore. You have made some good friends on board this little boat. Remember that a man can count his friends on one hand. Any more than that and you cannot afford the time to honour them. You are about to see things and live things that many people can only dream about. Keep your standards high and remember a true friend doesn't need you to be anything other than what you are." The giant smiled sweetly at him and continued. "Let you power guide you always. You have awareness that strips your years, run with it and always be its slave. I have no doubt that you are bound for greatness, perhaps not in a material sense but more spiritually, I've known this since I first saw you work at the souling of your first blade. Jano remember that good is good, nothing else, remember the Kusso teaching I have given you and keep the one true goal, "the sharpness of the blade" in mind at all times" he paused for a moment, as if struggling to find the words "I can't stress the importance that you stay on the straight path, I feel evil around us more and more, you have to guard yourself, you are like a lantern in a pitch black night, you have to learn to lower the wick until it just glows, practice it at all times. There is not much more I can say because I only understand a little of the gift, up till now I thought that it was wholly good, now I can feel a dark side to it. Be careful of it all and remember that you have been charged with a task, be true to it and make sure you stay sharp." With that all the lessons and preparations Dannid had been able to give him had ended. He had graduated. There was nothing more Dannid could do to help him, from now he was on his own until the next teacher came. He felt a foreboding, for the first time realising that he had no idea of what he was meant to do or how he would recognise who and what to trust when trust was needed. For the first time the realisation that he may never see his home, family and friends again hit him like a rock. He felt grief yet underneath a stirring of something that felt like excitement. This excitement was the start of the feeling of adventure that would be a major part of the rest of Jano's life. He had no name for this feeling, perhaps many years later he would find one but as this graceful old lady of the sea moved into the dock and gently berthed against the cane fenders of the pier he felt a stirring in his soul.
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Dannid had been right, there was a sense of evil, he could smell it on the air but there was also a song he could hear. It was calling his name like a siren in one of the sea tails he had heard of late, this was the energy of the gift, it was strong here, much stronger than the evil counterpoint he caught whiffs of every now and then. The gift was strong here, he could feel it stimulating his skin, it was never like this in the reaches, then it occurred to him that the other feeling, the bad one was what he was used to, of course, this new sensation was what the elders with the gift talked about, Old Magla had said that the gift was weak, Jano had only know the other side, for the first time he was experiencing the strength of the gift. He now understood with crystal clarity how bad things were. Never in his life had he felt the reward of the gift. Never had he experienced what the old ones called 'the scent of the right', all his life the evil had been constant. It wasn't a counterpoint in a new key, the new power was pushing it back. He wasn't aware of an evil in the background; the evil he had constantly lived with was being overridden. His head swam as he drank of it; all his life he had been in the dark, for the first time the sun was shining; at a time that the sorrow of leaving his friends should have had him being broken-hearted he was exulted with a rebirth, as if scales had been pushed from his eyes. He saw his friends in a different light, his love for them extrapolated in the radiance of the gift, and he swam on the power * * * * * A screaming sound broke through his thoughts like fabric ripping, the other sound swelled to a pandemonium. He was in the open, he had let his guard down, drunk of the power and now in seconds it was gone, closer and closer the sound came. Jano pulled his thoughts back into his body and grabbed for the talisman in his pocket; the loadstone was warm as if charged in the light of the gift. His only conscious thought was to hide his mind from the eye at the heart of the noise. A Mage glow flew from the stone and he could see the shimmering green as it engulfed his body like a personal fog. All the sounds both real and surreal were muffled in the fog and Jano imagined that he heard a voice yelling, screaming; cursing in the old speak. He couldn't make out the words but realised that they meant he had been lucky. This was the second time he had almost been seen, the first his friend had saved him, this time his gift. The fog cleared, unseen to all save any other high-gifted, and there were no such people nearby. Jano now had control of his thoughts again. The sweetness was returning, the power re-establishing itself but not quite as strong as before, the undercurrent more audible, more like the sounds that had filled his Mage thoughts forever.
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This power was strong, it could break through the light at the centre of the world, the gift was pushed aside like old curtains, he shivered, all this had taken a few moments yet it seem eternal; the struggle of good and bad; eternal. * * * * * The normality of the day returned. The ship berthed and Jano did the rounds wishing all a good and fair voyage. Dannid and Samin stood at the gangway. Dannid hugged the boy until he was sure his back would break, not saying a word and finally released him and sighed proudly. Samin put out his hand in the manner of a man; the boys gripped fore arms and held the stance for a full minute, each starring into the eyes of the other in adult salute of the Sinterlands. They broke and smiled at each other. Jano reached into the folds of his cloak and removed his short knife. The one they had made in his tenth year, the one they had made together as Dannid introduced Jano to the ways of the Kusso. He knelt in front of Samin and touched the blade to his forehead and quickly cut his index finger with the razor sharp tip. He handed the blade to Dannid, who immediately understood what Jano wanted. Kusso custom would have it that the maker of the blade could draw his blood and offer the spirit of the steel to a friend, a friend that one would have as a brother. This brother, if he wished the same, would allow a Kusso master to cut the same finger and the two friends could bond their blood in the Kusso cloth of the masters belt and bond as brothers. The crew had heard of these things and to a man stopped to watch. Dannid took the knife and held it in his left hand quickly pulling off his rough black belt. Dannid muttered a few words in old speak and turned to Samin. Custom and ceremony would not allow Jano to ask Samin to be a party to this lest a refusal would offend so Dannid asked the boy if he would be Jano's brother in life and thereafter. Samin nodded and Dannid asked the boy to hold up his knife hand quickly cutting the index finger he then took both their hands and held them together wrapping his belt around them. "Friends of our friends all witness the joining of these men" he used the true "adult" man, not young man or youth "as brothers in the name of their blood and the blood of their families to come. If you fight one you fight the other, they are now as one as flesh to the Maker". Dannid had just spoken the ceremonial words in old speak and removed the belt. He sheathed the knife and handed to Jano, who in turn handed it to Samin. It was his now as was tradition, a symbol of the sharpness of the steel, the very soul of the Kusso teachings. The boys embraced now as brothers and the crew cheered. Dannid thumped the pair of them on the shoulders roaring his approval. "Now I have two worthless layabouts to protect and care for and neither of them able to sharpen a blessed blade let alone make one of the damn things." The crew roared with a new wave of laughter and Jano humped his bedroll with all his worldly possessions in it onto his back and walked down the gangway and down the pier.
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He didn't look back, he couldn't because he was crying. Dannid had called him a man, he had just declared his devotion to Samin for life, and he had felt the true power of the gift for the first time. His emotions were swirling and bubbling. Today he had been born into the world of his adulthood. Today was the first day of the rest of his life.
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CHAPTER SIX
Jano had spent the night in a barn after helping a farmer milk his herd. This had happened after he had asked for lodging at a traveller's inn on the main road but shied away when the landlady told him it would cost him two fen for the bed and breakfast, more than half his available money and would have bought lodgings for a week in the Sou' Reaches. As luck would have it one of the inn's customers was a local farmer and he overheard the conversation and offered Jano shelter for some work. As Jano milked the last of the small herd the farmer came up and patted him on the shoulder. Jano had already decided that the man was running a "retired herd" and didn't really need help; he supposed it was just a kind act by a kind man. The farmer had expected Jano to be "like most younguns these days" and not have any stock skills and was pleasantly surprised when he took control of the herd in the yards, dressed them out with a practised eye, leading the queen milker to the main stall and the rest of the seven strong herd falling in to step behind, then stalling the eight animals, hob tied and washed them all with the practised ease of an experienced farm boy. "It's obvious that you are not of these parts" the old man sat beside Jano on an old stool and sipped a pitcher of water he had filled from a rain barrel near the door "people of the inner set are more interested in commerce and trade." He stressed the words commerce and trade with slight distain. "Farm crafts are being left behind, after all if merchants they want to be then trade is a must, no good having all you need within a day of your market, better it be bought from far away, betters the price I suppose." Jano kept milking, pondering what the old man was saying. Since leaving the docks that afternoon he had noticed that the atmosphere was busier than any he had ever experienced. The main road towards the mountains and the White City at their foot was as wide as any three elsewhere, heavy wagons pulled by colossal teams of bullocks rolled ahead raising dust like a curtain towards the horizon and beyond. As the old man had said, agriculture seemed at best to be a small share plot affair with most land being left to run to seed over the years. Some was being redeveloped sporting new houses and warehouses, most just Gipseed and Ironweed with fences broken and failing. The farmer had explained that an act of parliament had doubled the sales tax on all farming properties and this had stopped any movement in the rural land market. Most were supporting the owners until they died, most owners had no one to pass the property onto, something that could never be taxed according to Sinterland law and tradition, as the children of these families were employed in the commerce of the Kingdom and understood that there was more profit in trade than hard toil. The farmer, Old Adelman he was called, relaxed when he saw the way Jano handled his herd and was delighted when Jano offered to tend all the cows while he rested. This had allowed the old man time to talk, something he had less chance to do these days and he spent the time telling Jano about current affairs and airing his opinion on most subjects.
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Jano was happy here, the smells and sounds were old friends, the old man was kindly and his talk held a lot of knowledge. "You know son" the tense was familiar, that used with friends and relatives "things are not as good as they have been, every day the kingdom seems less at ease, I hear soldiers marching past our gate almost every day, taxes have risen twice in as many years and goods are dearer than I can ever remember. The parliament is fighting within itself and there is talk of civil unrest in the capital, the Maker knows if its true or not but talk usually knows some truth. "I heard from a stone hawker last month that a village high in the mountains had rebelled against a platoon of constables and blood had been spilt, and that's something that has not happened in our lands for generations; that's if its true mind." The old man got up and filled the pitcher again. He offered Jano the vessel which he took and drained, this was the first farm work he had done for a while and he had forgotten how much of a struggle these stubborn old women could be if being in a stall was not what they wanted. Jano had not used the gift. If he had he could have organised the whole affair without raising a finger but he had no intention of doing so, remembering Dannids words about turning down the wick. "This Lord Kelvin is a mean one, he's the first general of the home guard, hear tell that he's wishing there was a war to fight and I fear that he is looking for one." Old Aldeman continued and Jano immediately pondered Dannid's future to the north past the main lands and into the Kentish Islands, a war didn't bear thinking about, it had been three generations since there had been any need. "Maker knows why any man would want a war, still I suppose if young men aren't afarmin' then you have to have something for them to do. Strange though, they have ruined the farming in the inner set, so they have to import all they want and then as the cost increases, people start grumbling, start coveting what others have and before too long, the young men who should have been providing what the people are coveting are off stealing it from someone else; strange arithmetic indeed." The old man was silent, shaking his head in a mild disbelief, Jano nodded, drinking in the old man's simple analysis of a strange situation, it could almost be said that the whole thing was deliberate. After milking Jano let the herd out into the yard. "Father," Jano was responding in tense to the earlier lead the old man had made using 'son', "the third girl is a little lame in left hind." The old man nodded and interrupted, "it's a good eye you have there young Jano". They walked over to the cow and Jano lifted her leg to study the hoof. A stone was imbedded in the soft flesh under the hard nail and had become quite badly infected. Pus was floating just below the skin of the pad and the cow moved nervously as Jano massaged around the area. The old man shook his head sadly "What an old fool I am, I check these old girls often, poor old thing must be hurting like mad." Jano nodded, the cow was distressed. Jano had known the moment he entered the milking sheds that this man was a caring farmer, fresh straw, clean stalls, clean water, these cows were his friends.
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"It'll take a day or two to get a gifted to tend her, the nearest is in the capital. I don't know whether I can afford the fee." Jano knew that the old man was worried; he had already told him that his income was stripped bare under the burden of heavy taxes but without treatment this cow would soon be sick and would die, simple as that. There was a tear in the old man's eye, he was furious with himself, "how could I have missed the thing." Jano turned to the old man and touched his hand, he looked up. "Get me some tar soap and a sharpening stone, ask mother to heat some water and make a poultice of Hoch flower and silver salt in a linen bag." The old man's eyes lit up "I knew it son, I can smell it in a man, your Gifted aren't you, why did you 'restle with the critters." Jano nodded and answered his questions. "I have some power father, not a lot, I'm on my way to the school to seek admission, I'm not sure they will be interested in me, I am a poor Sou' Lander with a little talent with animals, all you've told me today would make me think that a farmer's Gifted is not a busy man, as for why I wrestled with the old girls, I have never been shown any other way of doing it. Our village gifted was a woman and had little animal powers. She has sent me to see if I can gain entrance, I reckon I will not, only time will tell, still," Jano hit his legs and straightened up, "even though my powers are limited I can help a bit here if you like." The farmer accepted Jano's explanation, chuckling to himself that he could always pick 'em and hurried of to get what Jano needed. The old cow was becoming a little unnerved. Jano turned and put his arm around her strong neck stroking her forehead. "Settle mother," he whispered in the old tongue, "I know it hurts powerfully and I will make it right for you, trust me old girl?" She settled a little and looked into his eyes, mooing lightly and then he felt her relax completely. "Good, just relax, I wont hurt you and soon you'll be right again." The farmer came across the yard carrying the bits and pieces Jano had asked for with his wife behind, a bucket of hot water in hand. He turned to his wife as he walked up. "Told you mother, look at the old girl, happy as a calf, I can smell them you know." Mother just smiled, Jano took the items and laid them out on his cloak. He sharpened his knife on the stone and made ready the poultice. The farmer had taken the hoof in his hand and Jano first rubbed the infected area with his index finger. This time she didn't move, content to chew a little hay the farmer's wife had just given her, Jano was right, these old animals were friends to these people; not all was lost of the old ways. He cut the flesh were he had deadened the nerve. Yellow liquid gushed out and the farmer quickly wiped it up, Jano removed the stone and dressed the wound. The whole thing took less than five
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minutes. Jano discussed the nursing of the wound with the farmer and never once needed to revert to the instructive tense, the old man knew what to do. Afterward they inspected each animal in turn and all were fine. Jano made the suggestion that the farmer's wife help in future as two pairs of eyes and hands were better than one and such a thing caught early would not be such a problem. As the farm slowed down for the day and dusk became night the unlikely trio found themselves around the table in the farmhouse next to the hearth. The meal was simple but delicious, stew and flat bread followed by apple cake and hot tea; all eaten with gusto and happy talk. "It's a fine gift you have there Jano. Don't talk yourself down son. You will surely be accepted by the school, mark my words and I should know because I can sniff 'em you know." They laughed again at the old man's claim to his own gift and then bid each other good night. Jano piled some sweet smelling hay into the corner of a stall and laid out the woollen rug the farmer's wife had given him. He undressed and washed himself by the rain barrel drying himself and them pulling on his cotton tunic and wrapping himself in the warm thick rug. He was asleep in minutes and dreamed good dreams of home and friends left behind. The sun was barely pushing away the night when he woke, perhaps it was his excitement of being so close to his goal that had awakened him, he lay still for a while listening to the morning stretching itself awake. Then he heard it again, not a voice more a thought, no a voice, he sat up and looked around. No one was there "I know you are there" as plain as day the sentence ran across the damp dawn air to him, not his ears but his mind "when I find you, you will rue the day your mother dropped you on the earth." Jano fought any thought in reply, this message or feeling was not directed to him it was directed at him, broadcast more the like. "Damn the Maker's name who are you that dares question the power?" Jano jumped to his feet and ran out into the farmyard, he lunged into the rain barrel, pieces of frost-ice breaking and dropping on the stone floor of the barn. The cold burned like fire, and like fire, cleansed his mind, pushing the weakness of sleep from him and encasing him in an armour of conscious thought. He pushed a wall into his thoughts and immediately the voice stopped, in mid-sentence in fact. Jano stood up and the water ran from his too-long hair like a waterfall. He was close to his goal all right and also very close to the source of his enemy, whoever and whatever it or they may be. Jano The Journey Begins - Page Suddenly the weight of the whole thing hit him. Here he was, a lifetime from home, nothing more than a boy, forced into the world of men, responsible for delivering a message that he didn't understand to warn of danger he couldn't identify. What hope did he have? ***** The morning grew into a beautiful thing. Any foreboding that the dawn had held melted away quicker than the frost that had covered the fields besides the road as he set out towards the White City.
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Jano had never before experienced a thoroughfare like this. Two lanes in both directions and jampacked with carts, horses, mules, cattle and just about any other thing that could be led, ridden, pushed or pulled to and from market. By mid-day the heat had become oppressive and the traffic had thinned considerably. Jano had heard talk of the siestas the Mid Landers were noted for and often laughed as the hard-working Sou Landers referred to it as the bone-idle laziness of people with nothing better to do with their time. Now he understood the wisdom of it all. The heat haze made the world shimmer and this played tricks on his eyes. For a moment it looked like it was just over the next rise and then it would seem a dot on the horizon. He decided that he had better stop before he was exhausted by the heat. Near a road junction was a stall selling lemon-flavoured water and fresh fruit slices. He purchased his luncheon accordingly and found shelter from the sun under an Ironwood tree in the field to the back of the stall. A few fellow travellers were already there and grunted an acknowledgment to his greeting. He ate the fruit, a species he had not seen before and was amazed how it tasted like the sweet spice custard his mother used to make when he was a child. The lemon drink was delicious and he had little difficulty falling into a fitful nap thereafter. He was awoken by the stirring of his fellow travellers and by the look of the sun it was after three in the afternoon when he again set out towards the White City. The road was again packed with travellers and traders and there was an exuberance about everyone and everything. Jano has walked a while with a gangly youth much his own age. Young Markin was an apprentice chef to the court of the Caldaro Clan and was in the employ of Master Yardsman Caldaro, Jano was still coming to grips with the concept of a second or sir name as they called it here in the midlands. Markin was returning to the court from his yearly trip home to his family as was the law of the apprentice. He had spent five years under the tutelage of Teacher Ulona Cransma, the head chef of the Caldaro court and was within two years of his fulfilment. He was a happy person; Jano envied him his satisfaction with his lot. Markin spent the trip telling Jano of the wonders and mysteries of the city and court and answered many questions without asking any in return, a combination that Jano felt most comfortable with given his reticence to enter into the web of untruths he had had to weave since he left the Southlands all those weeks ago. The boys walked on and the city got closer. Markin offered Jano a bed at his lodgings for that evening and Jano happily accepted and nothing of much importance happened further prior to their cresting the final hill on the main road just prior to sun-set. Nothing could have prepared Jano for the sight that lay ahead. *****
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In a depression that was formed between the hill they were standing on and the mountain ranges on the distant horizon stretched the White City. White it was with roofs as red as the setting summer sun. For as far as the eye could see in all directions stretched the buildings that made this great expanse of humanity. Nearest the low set buildings of simple folk that lived to serve the enterprise that was the city itself. Further on the two story buildings of the trade and industrial sections. Further still and appearing in the middle distance taller buildings that Markin instructed formed the commercial districts and finally in the centre of the expanse were structures that Jano could not imagine existed without seeing them. Buildings that, although small to view from here must have been six or seven stories in height. Markin, enjoying his new role of teacher to this ragged Out Lans boy delighted in pointing out the various landmarks; the central palace, the presidium which housed the parliament, the museum, the art galleries, and so it went on. Jano nodded, comprehending nothing. His senses assailed with the scale of everything. Markin shook him from his reveres of this sight. Come on, miles to go yet and they started off again. Down the road and into this city that Jano would never quite get over seeing each time during his life he crested this hill. The walk was tiring yet invigorating. Jano has completely given up trying to take in anything. He just decided to follow, be part of it. The boys walked for a ways; past the outlying precincts of private dwellings and on through the commercial and industrial parts towards the city proper. Markin suggested that they might try and catch the last of the buses. This was a concept that was foreign to Jano. These vehicles were horse-drawn and consisted of covered wagons with seats and their only function was to move people. Jano could not have imagined it; nothing like this could ever exist in the reaches. They ran to the group of people herding themselves on to the carriage and paid the driver their fare. The boys remained standing as the vehicle was filled to overflowing. The journey into the city proper was uneventful and Jano marvelled at the plain common sense of this idea. About twenty minutes later a trip that would have taken two hours walking was complete. They alighted and stepped into the White City Centre. Everywhere Jano looked there were people. Dressed in what would be bests in the reaches, things only worn for weddings or funerals. Food stalls, stores and the like; buildings standing many stories high; the sounds and smells intimidating his simple tastes. Markin laughed at his new friend, took him by the arm and led him along the road. Presently the arrived at gates set in a wall at least fifteen feet high; as far as the eye could see in either direction this wall stretched. Guards fitted out in the best armour and finery stood at the gates, looking fierce and proud. Markin approached and shouted the greetings of a friend to the men. Immediately they relaxed and bid the boy welcome. Jano was introduced and the guards laughed at Markins comments regarding Janos awe of the white city. The boys were let through and they entered the outer courtyards of the Caldaro Clans castle.
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The Caldaro were one of the oldest, richest and most honourable of the thirty-seven tribes. The head of the family was Master Yardman Caldaro, a noted artist, courtier and tribunal magistrate. His family spreading across ninety-eight trees and controlling many and varied enterprises. The spender and grace of this place made Jano feel inferior but the ease with which Markin accepted it buoyed his spirits and he ran along trying to keep up with his friend. As they went Jano saw that the castle proper must have been contained in an area of at least two miles square and Markin remarked that he was not a numbers person but believed the size to be in that order. The made their way past the servants quarters where Markin lived while in the castle. Past the barracks where a number of guards and soldiers were sitting, playing Barra, a card game; or idling the time away by any number of means. A number of the guards noted Markins passing with friendly calls, Jano had long before assessed that his new friend was a simple soul set on making life easy for himself and his friends; the ease with which he had befriended Jano an example, the goodnatured greetings of so many others, further proof. The inner section of the castle housed the main buildings consisting of the domicile of the families, the large hall and the synod that was the abbey for the clan. Sinterland had a strong belief in the power of God. Its religion was neither firm nor denominated. In the Reaches lifes passing paid homage to the Maker and little or no formal religion existed. The rules and ethics of the land said to be the atonement of God. In this higher society, removed from the simple ways of living the Makers path, more esoteric badges needed to be plied. Markin noted that formal gatherings were held in the abbey with masters of the inner set performing ceremony and leading devotions. Jano shook his head. There would not be time for this in the reaches. For the first time he had an inclining of an understanding of wealth. They walked around the inner wall that separated the service or utility buildings from the inner court and finally reached a door set low with steps leading down to it. They had passed many such doors and Jano had ascertained that they were service doors for the various rooms and functions within the main hall. Markin opened the door and entered, Jano followed. Within was a place that Jano could never have imagined. The room was gigantic; filled with hundreds of people engaged in all the enterprises of the kitchen to the largest hall in the kingdom. Although the Caldaro were not the power brokers of the current political profile of the Sinterlands, they were the wealthiest and they did everything in their power to show it. The Caldaro Hall was the largest in the land and most coveted by the upstart groups endeavouring to wrest control of the nation. Jano stood mouth agape at the sight. The room was rectangle. Down the northern wall were the ovens, each appearing to belong to a specialized preparation area. The Eastern wall housed the cooking fires but not open as in the reaches but contained within metal cabinets which Markin called stoves, a word Jano had never heard. Each oven and stove belonged to a master chef and under the master, assistant chefs and apprentices. Markin explained that there were a number of main areas; soup, entree, meat, game,
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fowl, vegetables. Then by the end ovens, bread, cake, dessert; each self-contained and charged with the preparation of their particular specialty. The west wall was pitted with doorways which Markin explained allowed the waiting staff to come and go to the various smaller rooms and main banquet hall. Finally to the south were large heavy doors that when opened breathed a fog out into the warm room; the ice rooms. Markin explained that large blocks of ice were bought to the castle weekly in ten bullock drays and slid into these rooms from the trapdoors they had walked over outside. This ice was mined at the Glaspar Ranges about sixty miles to the south. The phenomenon that was the Glaspar Ice Mines had long been the subject of much talk and lore. The caves fell back into the earth a mile deep and hit a vein of solid ice whose geo-form was not really understood. Some say it was a sliver of polar ice that had found its way through many thousands of miles of inclined flaw in the rock; this was the popular educated view. Others, that it was the work of the original Mages of the thirty-seven tribes, a less popular idea in the new enlightened times. Whatever, modern engineers had found that by diverting the waters of the many high streams through a series of man-made tunnels they could fill large reservoirs cut into the ice stream and freeze the water by conduction. In this way ice could be mined and sold to all the people of the White City. Needless to say the Caldaros owned the mine. Markin went on to explain that the foods kept in these rooms could keep for months and there were special parts of the cool rooms that were cold enough to freeze meat solid making it almost indefinite in its life. Jano had never seen such chaos, yet everything seemed to be following a plan. The noise and bustle was overpowering. Markin found a seat for his friend and excused himself for a few minutes, not before managing to produce a few oven hot honey cakes and a mug of cider the likes of which Jano had never tasted. He watched his friend wend his way through the crowd to the centre section of the room where the master chef was located. This section was raised and the centre of attention. Markin had told Jano that there was a minor feast being staged this evening in honour of a Nor Reaches governor so the kitchen was working at about half its capacity, a concept Jano had difficulty coming to grips with, how could any more people work in this room. He mused the conundrum while eating the delights Markin had proffered. In the middle of the Master Chefs section was a man that would have given Dannid a run for his money in height although nowhere as solid in frame. Dresses in white and sporting a flowing dark beard he yelled and shouted orders that seemed to rise above the room and strike the intended victim like an arrow from a long bow. He conducted the enterprise like some supreme troubadour. The movement and activities frenzied yet with a grace so gently it reminded Jano of the May dancing to celebrate the harvest festival. Markin made his way to the man and when he saw him he yelled his delights and shook the boy, a
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pang of recollection hit Jano as he recognized the love this man had for Markin, the way Dannid felt for him. Markin spoke with the Master who continued to yell orders and observe everything that was happening as well as listening intently to his apprentice. The big man looked up at Jano, frowned a little and then nodded. Markin ran back across the room dogging expertly as people moved to and fro. Master Cransma has said you are welcome to stay until you have organized your entrance to the school. I still have a day before I must be back at work and will help you find it tomorrow. Jano was not surprised that he had been afforded the accommodation. It was Sinterland lore that Gifteds were welcomed; even an aspiring trainee deserved this privilege given that to be on the way to the school at all meant that talents and power had been recognized. Markin led Jano through the kitchen passed each section piling two plates on a timber trolley with various tit-bits for each of them. They retired to a servants quarters off to the left of the north wall and sat by a large open fire eating their meals. Jano felt no guilt with this friendship, as he was not using falsehoods. He was in fact a low-level gifted seeking admittance to the school of the right. Markin talked for hours, sharing with Jano the various goings and comings of court and popular opinion of the inner set. Jano was tired and a lot of it just went over his head and, as night set in, the boys made their way to the sleeping quarters. The beds were one on the other and Markin found Jano some fresh blankets. This was the first bed Jano had slept on since the inn. He was asleep in minutes; Markin continued to talk into the night, Jano slept. ***** Jano rose at dawn which had been his habit since he could remember. He counted that he must have had eight hours sleep, about the most since leaving the village. Quietly he got out of his bed, observing that the others were now occupied by a number of young men all dead to the world. He made his way to the side door that Markin had shown him the night before and let himself out into the small courtyard and stables by the kitchen. The washing facilities were at the back of the stable and he made use of them noting that a supply of soap and towels were neatly stacked on the shelves above the trough. There was a copper set for a fire and Jano reckoned that this would provide hot water. He tested the temperature and felt it lukewarm. He lit the fire considering that the occupants of the other beds and the beds of the other rooms would soon be wakening and his head start would guarantee them warm water. Walking back into the small courtyard he took a deep breath and welcomed the morning. There was a slight fog and the smells were a mixture of stables and cooking spells. A milking cow was tethered in the first stall and a small menagerie of animals filled the others. A chicken coop was at the far end of the space and a large draught horse looked out at him from the end stall. Jano found some hay and gave it to the horse, rubbing his nose and sensing that these animals were well cared for.
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He removed his shirt and set about his morning exercises. Most of the techniques he was using required little or no noise so he worked at them with vigour, feeling his body stretch and loosen as he did so. He practiced his kicks and punches, blocks and parries and using a broomstick he found in the stable worked on his sword and staff routines. Just as he finished a number of young boys started to appear wiping the sleep from their eyes. One young fellow no more than nine or ten thanked Jano for lighting the copper and Jano introduced himself to the rest. They seemed a happy bunch and all were first year apprentices to the chefs. Jano finished his bathing just as Markin arrived and welcomed his new friend. Good morning Markin, I trust you slept well? Jano said to Markin as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Aye I did Jano and could have had more, he said with the quite resolve of a person who never got enough sleep. Jano smiled and waited while his friend bathed and continued to become more awake. The morning rituals fell into place. The boys went about the tasks that assail new apprentices everywhere; the cleaning, the clearing, the making ready for the day. Fire boxes to be emptied and reset, lit for the mornings needs. Markin offered to prepare breakfast for his friend and Jano, although not one big on a hearty breakfast, agreed so as to not sound uncaring for his friends desire to please. Markin went from gangling youth to artist. Jano had to admit to himself that a lesson was being constructed before his eyes, again amazed that lifes best teacher was life. He realized that each man has his skill, each man is a master, all that changes are the tasks at hand. Markin worked at the breakfast range in a manner Jano applauded for its precision and depth of purpose. The fare was beyond anything Jano had tasted. Fruit juices squeezed from plants Jano had no name for, omelettes so light they appears to float off the table, pancakes filled with berries and covered in thick cream freshly beaten. Finally thick black syrup that Jano vaguely remembered seeing Dannid drink with the knife hawker, cofe or coofee or something it was called. Not a Sou Land drink for any but the richest or the most solemn of occasions. The kitchen started to purr with the beginning of the new day. Markin and Jano bid Master Cransma a good morning and set off. They walked through the centre of the city. The crowds and activity were nothing Jano had ever seen before. Nothing could have prepared him for the sheer press of humanity. The morning was maturing to a warm and humid day and Jano wished his clothes were less heavy, of the cotton serge that was practically popular here. At the outskirts of the city precinct they caught another of the carts and allowed it to wend its way down the various major roads away from the city. Markin kept his normal light-hearted banter up for the entire trip. Jano realised that he had been in error thinking that the school would be in the city centre. Of course it would be where it was always. After all it was many hundreds of years old.
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The city would have spread away from it. Still he was surprised when they finally alighted to find themselves in a very old part of the city and in need of such repair that Jano couldnt imagine anyone living here. Markin did use a word that was foreign to Jano; he referred to the area as the Slums. Urchin children played in the side streets and Jano soon adjusted his thinking to the realisation that folk did in fact live here. It was just so old; so badly repaired. On the way out of the city Markin had pointed out a palatial building in the shadows of the Senate. It was the School Of Mystical Powers Of The Inner Set. Jano had heard about this group; a breakaway of the old ways. Men of Science joining forces with gifted that had left the way. Because of his need to cloak his powers Jano had kept his self-hidden at that point but he could ascertain uneasiness about the place. Still, not important now; his goal was near, and he realised for the first time since leaving all those weeks ago, very soon he would be able to become a student again and have decisions made for him. For the first time in a long while he felt he could survive this ordeal. Those feelings lasted only until they arrived at the school. They turned a corner of a street that was lined with old tenement housing the likes of which Jano had never seen before. The school lay before him. As seemed to be the fashion of important buildings here in the inner set, the place was surrounded by a huge wall. Whereas the wall of the Caldaro Clans castle was beautifully even, crisply white and capped with ochre red tiles, this wall was brown with age, the white wash a ghost of its former self. Tiles were missing and broken and writing adorned the wall. Slogans attesting the unsuitability of the old ways and supporting those of the new age, posters advertising events and things of little or no real important, weeds growing through the pavement which was a gravel affair that had been rolled and pressed flat; sadness sat heavily on everything. They walked along the path, passed rubbish piled high, past urchins playing games that required no expensive equipment. Passed old men sleeping under the trees drinking what appeared to be meed or cider but drunk and in their oblivion. The buildings on the other side of the street were even sadder than the tenements. Old warehouses long since abandoned for the new industrial suburbs closer to the city. As they circumnavigated the wall they saw more squalor and neglect. Jano was heart weary. He had no idea what he expected. All he expected was not this. The foreboding increased and the dark humour reasserted itself on him. The school was for all intents and purposes the same as the gift; weak and neglected. Once again Jano felt alone.
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CHAPTER SEVEN
The cause of most concern to Jano was the apparent lack of any entry into the place. They walked the perimeter, Markin offered practical observation in that the errand appeared to be fool hardy but was aware of Janos need to complete his quest so left it alone early on and continued to walk silently with his new friend. What manner of Tom-foolery is this Jano? he asked as they completed the second circumnavigation. Jano shrugged and stopped walking. A large Tule tree was providing shade although its limbs were gnarled and ghostly, and its foliage not unlike the fur of the mangy dog that was curled up near the base. I have no option Markin, I have to stay, the frustration sounded on the edge of Janos voice, I have nowhere else to go and I must be here. You go back; you have already spent far too much time with me. Markin protested but knew he had to leave, he was expected back for the afternoon shift at the kitchen and his time to leave was fast approaching. Jano, return with me, we can ask questions tomorrow, find help for you. Jano shook his head. I will wait, something will happen. He smiled to Markin, and shook his hand. They walked to the corner of the road that led back to the main highway to the city centre and shook hands again. Markin left and Jano remained, watching him walking away. They agreed to meet in a weeks time when Markin was allowed a holy day. The heat of the day was descending like a wet mat and Jano walked back to the tree. The old dog was as still as he was when the boys had left. Jano spoke to him in the old speak, a whisper on the wind and he looked up and tried to wag a world worn tail. Are you thirsty old fellow? he asked. Jano stood and walked off to look for some water. At the side of one of the old warehouses was a water tank, much the worst for wear but still holding crystal clear water. Jano found an old tin container, discarded behind the tank. He filled it and walked back across the dusty road to the dog. He shook his head at the mind-set of people that would just throw away a metal container. Still, he was learning that the ways of the inner set were a far cry from those he had grown up with, he was not sure he was all that keen on them at all. He knelt beside the dog and made a cup of his hand, pouring the water into it and holding it under the dogs muzzle, feeling his tongue lap against his palm in appreciation of the relief it gave his thirst. Jano mumbled a few words of old speak to the dog that raised his head and barked in friendly accord. Jano smiled and patted his head then poured more water; the tin was just too small to leave for him to drink from.
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The old dog dragged his bony carcass up to a standing position and stretched, mouth wide and a light hearted growl to accompany the cracking of his joints. He stood beside Jano wagging his tail and walked to the wall. The doorway was recessed about two feet into the masonry; it was solid timber and had no apparent hinges, handles or locks. Jano walked to it, to where the dog was standing and stared. He looked up at Jano and Jano was sure he was smiling. Jano touched the timber, it was old and grey, like the planks he saw on the pier at Lorne, looking all the world like they had been there for ever. He pushed it and found it to be solidly shut. Trying to knock was useless, the timbers were so solid his hand or fist hitting it was eaten up and burped back at him like a whisper. Goodness me, will any of this ever make sense? He said to no one in particular, but really to the dog, he shrugged, talking to a dog was no more absurd than doors appearing in solid walls and then proving to be more solid than the wall it replaced. The dog barked once, a bark of conspiracy, of support, of the mocking a friend has for a friend, when his deeds are laudable and the friend should be told so. What? Jano laughed. What do you want me to do? Fly over? Another bark. Jano turned and walked back to the tree, picked up that can and drank some of the water from it. Then just watched, accepting it for what it was, as the dog leaned against the door and it opened effortlessly, like a silk curtain in a gentle breeze. The dog turned his head and barked once. Jano just shrugged and walked over and then through the doorway. Jano entered the School Of The Right starting his new life at that moment. His worldly possessions in one pocket of his travelling cloak, his expectations as malleable as potters clay. Today, he left all that was and started what was to be. ***** Inside, he stood still and studied this place. The wall stretched to his left and right behind him for what seemed like forever. In front, virgin pastures seemed to flow to the horizon with nothing interrupting the fabric of the rich green tapestry. Trees grew tall and luscious along the gravel path leading from where he was standing towards the horizon. He had circumnavigated the wall of the place earlier in his search for a door, he knew it was not possible that it could contain all he saw before him but also knew enough of things to know that anything was possible and here, most so, after all, this was the centre of the Gifteds world. He looked down at the dog. It stood tall and strong, now a golden coated retriever, solid and handsome. It barked once and sounded as strong and true as any Jano had ever heard. His eyes shone in the light and he bounded off barking his call to follow as he did. Jano broke into a light trot pursuing the athletic form of the retriever. Only now did he realise just how peaceful this place was, how peaceful he felt.
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They travelled along the path for about ten minutes and came upon a hill that had introduced itself gracefully, sneaking up on Jano till he realised he was starting to have to fight the incline. The dog sat at the top waiting, his tail wrapped around his legs and lightly tapping against the grass by the side of the path. Im coming Jano puffed and the dog barked once, sounding the world like a call of encouragement. They crested the hill together and stopped. In the valley below was the most magnificent series of buildings set alongside a stream that seemed to flow through the reality of the place although he had not noticed it on his approach. The buildings were a brilliant white and topped with the popular red tiles Jano had first seen the afternoon prior when he first caught sight of the White City. But these buildings were of a different calibre to those outside. Magnificent in their simplicity of design, the white washed walls as pure as the snow they, Jano and Dannid, had witnessed when they broke through the clouds all those weeks back. The red like nothing Jano had seen prior. The dog pushed against Janos leg gently and they started walking down the path towards the place that Jano would learn was the School of The Right. Here, the Gifted of special note were taught and then teached. During his life time, Jano would often think of the beauty of this place when he needed reminding of all he was doing and its true worth. This haven in a world of changing times was to always be Janos solace, but now, as less than a novice in the scheme of things, he approached feeling small and insignificant as the sheer power of the place overwhelmed him. His new friend just walked beside him, never outpacing him, keeping station as any friend would, beside and there for support. Jano absentmindedly patted the retrievers head as they walked on, approaching the outer walls of the school. ***** The walls stood as tall as three men and were made of a dark stone quarried in the distant mountains to the north, drinking the light and returning the images of people as they walked past, rendered in dark detail like people begging for food on a cold night. It was almost solid Lock Stone, flecked with a little Trispar, a volcanic rock as strong as iron. The passage reached out and ran the length of the north wall and the footsteps the manmade seemed to echo and cry out in the macabre half-light so typical of the Trull castle. It had been designed to give the image of imposing and oppressive power and that is just what it did. Tully walked slowly down the long corridor, towards the east wing doors and the inner apartments of the family proper. His audience had been requested by his older brother Kule and he sure that his advisor Marion would be there as well. Of late there had been a certain spirit afoot, one of wishful expectation. Tully was not sure whether this was good or bad as both seemed to render the same reaction from Kule. Since he had
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commissioned the services of Marion, a Mage of the Orrin Sect, a break-away group of the School Of The Right, those in concert with the more specific magic of man and science not the whimsical stuff of the old order, things had seemed to take on a new pace for the Trull Dynasty. Tully was a courtesan, more at home reading poetry, playing the Zimla, a five stringed instrument that was laid across the lap and hit with a small hammer of silk and horse-hair, and competing in calligraphy competitions than serving as a member of the High Tribunal, something Kule was very displeased about and he never let Tully forget it. This morning he was to have been a guest of honour at a poetry reading and this summons had made his day fall around his heels. Dressed in the elegant robes of court dignitary, face painted light blue in the current fashion; he turned into the inner rooms and came face to face with a captain of the inner guard. The guard, a giant of a man saluted him but Tully knew that he was the brunt of many a half whisper in the house. Something that, if heard would lend the whispered a punishment that befitted the crime and this often gave Tully a bluster and bravado beyond his real strengths. Morning Master Tully, my lord is expecting you, please go straight in. The captain said with a straight and fixed expression. Tully flicked his hand at the man to step aside and went to move forward. Your sword please sir. The captain said holding him by the shoulder with a strength that was something Tully would never be able to combat. He removed the sword belt and handed it to the captain, grunted once and walked through the door. The captain rested the sword down on the cabinet to the left of the doorway and gently withdrew the blade. Its shine was lost in a gentle browness that was growing across the face, the etchings and symbols loosing definition as the rust galloped over them. He shook his head, a travesty in this mans eyes, such a beautiful weapon, the finest Kusso mastery and left in the hands of this weakling. He clicked it back into the scabbard and went back to the entrance of the inner rooms, to stand guard and wait instructions. He was concerned of late, more and more these instructions came via the wizard that had leeched himself onto Kule, the stick-insect of a man, cruel and cunning and as sure of himself and his lot as any man the captain had ever known. A gentle shiver crossed his soul as he took up station again. Things were not good these days, not by a long shot. ***** Tully entered the sitting chamber. It was sparse and just as vast. At the far end on a raised platform was a simple desk of the finest Toca wood. Polished to a gleam that seemed to radiate light into the room. To each side and running back towards the door were rows of straight backed chairs and a centre rug between them, termed the Gauntlet by those unfortunate to have walked it while the family council was in session.
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Kule sat at the desk with the ephemeral shape of Marion beside to his right, as he was always seeming to be these days. Kule was busy signing papers that Marion was orchestrating, pointing at and moving away from the lord of the Trull dynasty. Take a seat Lord Tully. Marion said in a voice that seemed to cut straight to Tullys heart, and he did just that. The first seat on the left side directly below the desk, as far away from the man has he could be. He did not and never would like Marion. The man was evil, of that Tully was sure. They worked on for another ten minutes with not a word being spoken, save for the scratching of nib on parchment, there was no sound. The floor to ceiling length glass doors on each side of the desk were closed against the afternoon breeze which had a pinch in it now as the long days of summer were starting to share the hours with the first of autumns. Finally, it was done and the tall thin man acquiesced his departure, bowing towards Kule in the accepted manner of the high court, although Tully noted the depth of each bow was less than he would have expected. You allow that man too much lee-way brother. Kule looked up at his brother and he could see an anger so solid in his eyes he stopped his words immediately. Kule stood, his attire of the finest silk, ten layers from white to the dark blue of the fighting ensign of their trooping colours. His stature was short but he was built like a fighting dog, and was as vicious and smart. Be silent! He yelled. You will listen to what I have to say brother. You will heed my words and by the Maker if you do not you will rue the day you were born, do I make myself clear? Tully nodded as scared as he could ever be and as scared as he had always been of his brother, fifteen years his senior and born of a different mother to their father, now dead but in his time, one of the most feared man of the Mid Lands. Kule stepped around the desk and stepped down to his brother. Although Tully stood a lot taller, he felt like a child beside this man. Kule grabbed hold of the lapel folds of his outer jacket and pulled him forward and down roughly till their faces were almost touching, the sweet spices of his scent water in stark contrast to Kules smells born of a morning of sword practice and archery.
Tully was attending in the company of a number of his friends, all young men, younger than he and as aware of the gentle things of their wealth and position as any. They arrived in large coaches and disembarked to join the throng of visitors to this gala occasion. Aldo Cupins was the middle son of the Cupins family and was known in some circles to find the hold the Trull had over Sinterland politics less than acceptable given his families established entitlements as founding members of the initial thirty seven tribes.
Tully felt his knees buckle slightly as he remembered the events of the previous evening. The play was being staged at the centre ground of the Cupins Castle, a visiting troop of Faerie players, reenacting the stories of the first tribes; a high point of Inner Set society.
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Tell me brother that you did not allow Aldo Cupins to move against you.
He had made sport of his harassment of Tully and as it continued it had grown stronger and more obvious, from snide comments made behind hands and whispered, to now, loud taunts in public places. Tully had always been able to stand aside from all this and was never a man to entertain setting things right with combat as would have been the accepted solution. Last night, the evening filled with good cheer and oft good cheer was accompanied by too much meed, Aldo had physically man-handled Tully, yelling to the crowd things that demanded response but which did not get it. Tully pulled himself away and scurried into the crowd as on-lookers watched on with awe of the situation. Tully tried to talk to his brother but he could find no breath. Kule was shaking with rage and pushed him back into the chair. Do you even begin to understand the dishonour you have bought our clan? You weak-kneed kitten! How could you allow that to occur and not strike him down? Tully cowered away from him, not able to respond, knowing that the action Kule suggested was exactly what Cupins wanted, given he was a swordsman of note and Tully hadnt the strength to strike his blade through the thinnest plank of Toca. Brother; I. Be silent NOW! His brother roared at him. Starting to pace the gauntlet his head bowed and his brow set. He pulled a paper from his sleeve and threw it at Tully. It was on Cupins parchment, sealed and tied with violet ribbon. It is a demand for satisfaction. This upstart is demanding you met him in the field of honour. He is DEMANDING do you understand! Tully felt sick, hot bile rising in his throat and burning the back of his tongue, which he swallowed loudly. You weakling, what did you think, he challenged you and you ran away like some beetle from a mans boot. His challenge is just and you will have to face him.
Hurt you. HURT YOU! He is going to kill you do you understand you Kule couldnt find a word to suit how he felt and settled for sparrow. He is completely within his right now. How could you have allowed this to happen? I cannot help you. If I had been there I could have but not now. This is an issue of honour. Kule stopped talking, thinking the way he always did. People often mistook his rough exterior and manners as an indication of a simple mind, there could be nothing further from the truth.
Kule turned and slapped him so hard he felt consciousness float above his head and try to fly away. Save for his being grabbed by the lapels again he would have slipped off the chair onto the floor.
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Tully snivelled his reply but he was drunk brother, a bully, he wanted to hurt me
You have to fight him Tully he said, his brother now holding his head between his arms and rocking like a little child. Stop it do you hear! The door to the side of the room opened gently and Marion appeared through a gap that seemed less than wide enough for him to do so. He seemed to float across the floor as his long black cloak hid his feet and was cut to such perfect length it teased the stone flooring as he moved. In a voice so soft it could have been mistaken for vespers from a distant chapel he said My Lord, I think all is not lost. Kule turned to the man and his face showed his anger. Are you blind man? Look at this mouse. He said as he gestured towards his brother, now crying openly. Marion nodded. Sire, I can help here. Whats more, the end may justify the means. The Cupins have been vocal in both this instance and prior regarding the current balances of power. He leaned closer, as if wanting to shield his words from all but Kule and then only if he concentrated on the air moving in his ear. They need to be taught a lesson; this could be made to back-fire on them I am sure. Kule turned his head to face the man, a look of expectation spreading across his square-cut features. The Mage continued. This is a blessing in disguise my Lord. The council needs to be shown who leads it. You have your hands tied in the protocols of the events there and never would any of the would-be provocateurs approach you or most of the clan in such a way. The tall man started to pace gently along side his leader, continuing. This is a ruse you see. It is planned, but they have underestimated you, they think you will endeavour to use you position to rescind the challenge and under old laws that have gone mostly forgotten, such an act could lead to a vote of no confidence Kule stopped short What are you telling me Marion his voice was raised there is such precedent? The Mage nodded his head. It is so my lord, lost in time but available just the same. A smirk drifted across his features as he looked back at the shaking scarecrow in his peacock finery. They overestimated your he searched for a word feelings and ideals I believe. Kule nodded. Marion, the Master Mage of the Orrin sect stood back a little and watched the puppetry do its business. How easy these fools were to control and move, like men on the Chooka board. How he
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wished he could just take control of it all with his powers, something he could have done so many times before in his ascent to his present position. With the power within his sect and the tools they had at their disposal, they could have seized control of it all with the bat of an eye. The only problem was the blasted School of the Right. The school where he was once seen as the most gifted in many generations, the school where he almost made the mistake of most of the misguided old men there in and took on the responsibility of order for the good of all men. Marion Of Ule, eldest son of the Magistrate of Jandrus, Gifted of the tenth level and perhaps higher now, given the years that had passed since his last grading and his subsequent quest for the powers and tools that had prior been seen to be away from the path, still had a fear of the power of those old men. Although he could surely beat any one of them, their combined power was still something he respected. Early on he realized the only way to win and wrest control of all things was to use the very fabric of the world his mentors and now nemesiss held so dear and true. Those things political that guaranteed the society would be used against it as he was doing now. He had to condescend to the likes of this Nor Lands barbarian, to influence events. Soon, so very soon, it would all be ready for him to strike and then, the world would see the greatest ruler it had ever seen. It was his destiny, the stones had told him so, now he just had to bide his time and push here, prod there until all the pieces where in conjunction, then; one push; and it would be a new order for Sinterland, one that he would decide. He continued They expect you to ban the event, use your power to force the issue and then they will strike, all legally and above board Sire. The simplicity of the plan is wonderful. Kule smirked. Let them have him Marion, he is of no use to our cause, let this upstart blood his blade and then, I will have to seek revenge. Marion nodded Yes you could let it happen that way my Lord but it would never do to have the leader of the High Tribunal rough-shoeing in the dirt. He paused to let the last words sink into the little mans head. But, if Lord Tully was to fight and win, can you imagine the ramifications. Particularly if the Lord were to then demand a replay of honour which he is entitled to do under old law. If he were to demand the replay of the youngest and most favoured son Destin, Lord Cupins would come running to you like a whining dog begging your interference and as such would be in your debt. Kule roared in high spirit, a laugh that formed into a cry of triumph at the plan. Then he turned and saw the pathetic sight before him and his shoulders slumped as he did. Marion leaned closer to him. I can help my Lord, if you would wish.
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Kule felt that ripple that always passed over his soul when this man offered such assistance, something he was doing more and more of late. The fortunes of the Trull were soaring and this reliance on the wizard was a small price to pay in the grand scheme of things, or so Kule thought. How? he asked with a hint of trepidation. Marion clapped his hands twice. The door to the side that had stood ajar since he entered, and opened onto his antechamber office, opened and through it walked Tully; standing tall and strong, a solid look in his eye that beset strength and purpose. His likeness so absolute it scared Kule immediately. The man walked up to them, past the cowering figure who was completely unaware of any of the goings on as he rocked tightly into a ball and snivelled to himself, in a world away from here. Tully stopped before them and took Kules arm in a shake, the strength completely solid Brother he said. Kule was dumb struck. Rest easy my Lord Marion said this doppelganger is your brother, more so than that there he pointed to the form at the head of the gauntlet. Say the word Sire and your new brother will bring glory to the clan. Kules head was spinning, this magic was an abomination; there was no doubt of it. It should be stopped and never be allowed to interfere with his world, at least that was what the voice inside was screaming at him. He turned to face the Mage. Looked at him, then said do it in a whisper, turned and strode out of the room leaving those left to do what they had to do. Marion smiled gently, turned to Tully and touched his cheek, his head dropped to one side and for all intents and purposes was asleep standing where he was. Marion walked to the pathetic shell of a man and stood before him. Weakling he said as he touched his forehead. In a flash of dark light, that seemed to come from the ground up, tendrils of dark smoke started to spin around the body of the second born son of the Trull dynasty. He lifted his head, jolted from his stupor, and saw the evil face of the Mage before him, a grin that was shining in the dark light. He tried to scream but no words were able to sound. Faster now, the smoke spun and he felt himself moving with it until his form seemed like paper flowing in the breeze, then, as quickly as it all started it stopped. Nothing remained. The white ghost of the former fool flew around the room forming a stream and flew toward the other. With one breath it disappeared into its open mouth and was gone. Marion walked back to the doppelganger and touched him awake. Go now my Lord Tully, let the world see the new you.
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With that Tully turned and walked towards the door, shoulders square and strength of purpose that was born on the Mage winds from whence he came. Marion stood alone in the room. It would be just perfect.
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CHAPTER EIGHT
There were two groups. Hovering at each end of the field, fading in and out of view as the fog swam around them, covering all and they like a white funeral shroud. The mood was reserved and any noise was being eaten before it formed by the cloying dampness of the early morning. The Cupins stood to the north; to the south the Trull. Kule stood with his brother, Marion to their side, behind, and at a distance that was acceptable, stood a captain of the family guard and a further official of the court. Aldo Cupins stood at the front of the other group dressed in the light armour of a field leader, draped with the clan colours. He was accompanied by his father as leader of the house, his younger brother and two other men. One would have been a retainer and the other, an overseer. It was law that matters of honour could be resolved in combat, mortal or otherwise, providing two independent witnesses scrutinized the affair, one for each party guarantying the legality of the outcome, whatever it may be. It was Aldo Cupins call. He had delivered the demand and under Sinterland law he could choose the level of retribution and endeavour. He stood hands on hips, a violet cloak sitting squarely on his shoulders forming wings over his elbows, chest preened like some fighting cock. Their group stood fast with the confidence of men sure of themselves. After all, Tully Trull was a fop by all accounts. Not a mans boot lace and this event would put the Trull into a tight corner. The gambit was sure to produce an endplay that would have Tully begging for mercy, and thus calling for exclusion under the old laws. This would place the rule of the Trull in jeopardy as it was written that such an event would leave the capitulator subservient, with it, taking seats from the upper house. The Trull ruled the Senate. This would adjust all that. Thus, Aldo was pleased; all that remained was the capitulation. They watched and waited for the Trull to send the emissary to plead their case, as was the tradition in such matters. Hardly a sound at all, the fog coated the proceedings like some tempera wash. A figure walked towards them, Aldo Cupins smiled, waiting, chest pushed forward, cock-sure and ready to bellow his rage at being denied his honour; such was the way of the capitulation. The man stood waiting, at his side a sword, blade lowered at the ready. Tully Kule, dressed in the light field armour of a Trull General, his look hawk-like; eyes burning with a light foreign to any prior. Cupins blinked, this was not the pompous fool he expected. Yet it was the man; fitted with a steel he had not expected. Instead of a whimpering pup he found a hunting dog, fit chest and lean legs, bright dark eyes and teeth showing across stretched lips. He stood at attention, waiting, for the call to battle from the demander. His gaze was steel-like, grey and cold. Cupins stood silent, wondering on that wing of time between thought and sound whether this was some gamesmanship taught over a long night to a very good actor. After all, he stood before this fellow as a martial artist of many years standing, a swordsman of great skill and a fellow others feared. He has spent most of his life being feared and after the second of uncertainty, the habits of a lifetime kicked in. He threw his chest forward and bellowed the entreaty to battle for
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honour, the yell honed in the fighting rooms of his masters school, in the bars and inns of his world, designed to strike fear into the faint-hearted. Tully Trull stood and nodded; not a word or a breath just an acceptance. He waited; Cupins had not made the demand. The silence was immediate, then, like some whisper on a wind that blows sound away he spoke, Tell me Lord Aldo, what measure you demand? As was the way of these things it was Cupins place to exact the price of battle. This safeguard was in place for the obvious reason. Here, in the cold hard light of dawn, after many hours of reconciliation with ones thoughts, it gave the demander the opportunity to defuse the situation. It was an opportunity for the folly of wine and meed to be watered down with sober thoughts as was most often the case. Cupins watched, not hearing the words of a Dani player, not the sounds of a fop acting the part. Here was the voice of a warrior, a voice not quite there. For the first time Cupins had a flash of some feeling foreign to him, it he had ever felt it before he would have known it as concern, he hesitated. Tully Trull moved with the speed of a hawk, his hand slapped across the other mans cheek so quickly and so hard that it happened before it did. The insult was so absolute Cupins was lost for words. Without thinking he stepped back a step into the sound of the exclamations rushing forward from his camp. Trull stood and added. Lets make it a hand shall we? Cupins nodded in the half trance his rage had emptied onto him. Immediately Trull adopted the classic forward leaning stance with his sword overhead, the speed was such that a faint hiss filled the air as the blade rose and stood rock solid. Cupins move quickly but his haste and rage led to a clumsy set of movements that resulted in his sword dropping from his hands and hitting the loose stones at his feet. He bent to pick it up and Trull moved back and started a feint circle, feet never leaving the ground, dragging quietly over the uneven ground as if he was floating. Cupins, a little more composed moved to join the dance, his eyes bulging at the dishonour of Trulls actions and his own display of ineptitude; he would make this fool pay. The first parry was a chorus of steel against steel, sounding only like two swords can sound and finished with each other trading places and facing away. Both turned in a jumping stance and ran again. This time the blows were furious and so fast the windmill of blades caused a flickering in the fog. The whiteness seemed to engulf them, the Cupins camp moved towards them to try to stay in sight, the fog was now thicker than it had been prior and the sound of blades were deadened like they were being played across the valley, not feet in front of them. A scream sounded and the fog lifted. Aldo Cupins fell to his knees, a stream of blood spurting from the stump of his right arm, the hand lay twitching under the halt of the sword away across the clearing. Trull stood back and sheathed his sword, wiping the blade on his tunic with the practiced
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ease of a master swordsman. He turned and walked away; back towards his people with no word or ceremony. The unconscious body of Aldo Cupins slide to the ground face first as his fellows went into an excited mode as they tended immediate first aid. This action had cemented the rule of the Trull. Now, the Cupins were those that would have to render subservience. The regime was complete. Kule walked forward to the old Lord. He stood before him, smaller by a long chalk yet wider and of greater body. He just stood, drank the moment, the old mans eyes were filled with a sadness he had never seen before and if it where his way, he may have felt a little sadness for him but it was not his way and he didnt. Lord Cupins knew what was to come, he searched the other man for some hint of human compassion but knew he was looking for water in a desert. Kule whispered Do I have to say it aloud man. Do you want to lose the use of two sons this day? I demand satisfaction from this, either you give me your complete loyalty and your votes or your son Destin and I shall dance a little, and I will not settle for a hand. Lord Cupins knew of Kules history, he was a street fighter and never lost in any street. He had no choice. He pulled at the red silk band across his left shoulder ripping it away from the pins holding it. On it was his family crest and the number 3 to signify the votes in the upper house. He handed it to Kule who stood unmoved. His only words, You started this old man, I have just finished it, turned and walked away. ***** They walk to the buildings proper was far longer than Jano would have first thought. He was unable to put his finger on it, it seemed that all things here were juxtaposed, distance fought with time and time with place, today, now, it was a mystery, later, many years ahead, when Jano would stand here as Master Mage, it would still be so. Such was the world he was in and was part of him. Finally, after what he felt was a strangely long time, they arrived at the outer wall of the keep. It was finished in the smoothest white facing Jano had ever seen. In the reaches, at least the reaches he was familiar with, they never wasted time rendering. This was something kept for the builders of the inner set and the walls were so smooth they reflected his image in the soft afternoon light. The dog stood beside him, his head cocked to one side causing his left ear to hang straight down and his right to flop across his right eye, a look of what; curiosity? Curiosity of what, his behaviour prior signified familiarity, so what was he to be curious about. Then Jano understood, understood with a light-hearted smile, he was curious about Jano. I know boy. Jano said as he patted the sagely golden head. I have no idea what Im doing here either. The dog turned to face him and if the Maker believed him, Jano would have said he smiled.
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He barked once and ran around the corner down to the left of where they were standing, he disappeared and a further bark began the game of catch-up they had been playing since they started this strange journey. He walked on and turned the corner. The wall went back to form an inverted L shape and a large opening in the wall passed into a courtyard, white pebbles forming the ground within. So far, besides his four-legged friend, Jano had not heard or seen any other. He entered the courtyard and another wonderment occurred, the space expanded before his eyes and became the size of a small village and he had the image of the dolls within the dolls his sister had had as a child. This place was framed by buildings standing three or four stories high and many small single story and other out-houses filled the area. The same white pebbles formed the ground and the rich red of the roofs and in places, window sashes and doorframes slashed the serene whiteness. The dog appeared across the way, between two buildings and barked. Jano just waved and walked on. As he grew into a man he would come to experience many occasions when this type of guide would lead him. It was to be that Janos oneness with animals would give him time and space and help him again and again. In this instance, the dog just assumed the role of guide and leader and Jano happily followed. If he thought about it this had been happening most of his life, as a toddler following chickens and other barnyard stock. A further bark sounded in the recess of the buildings behind the first row in the yard. The soft sweet smell of spices filled the air and Janos stomach felt like it had been punched as it growled in concert to his flowing juices. It was so immediate it startled him and then, he was overcome with hunger, he trotted towards the last location he could pinpoint the bark and found an open door. Within the dog was drinking from a white china bowl. The small room was fitted with a table and chairs and a feast was laid out. Not only for Jano but the dog was catered for in a similar manner. His stomach growled at him and Jano ran to the table. His hand seemed to have a life of its own and grabbed a leg of chicken, gleaming with a honey glaze, his mouth watered and he pulled it to it and was about to bite. He stopped and dropped the food back onto the table. In his haste and singlemindedness he had almost eaten without performing his ablutions. This was a holy place and a place of the Gift. To do so was as close to sacrilege that Jano could ever come. He shook his head once and forced himself back to the door, backing away as his stomach seemed to draw him forward. The urge was overpowering, so much so he moved forward again. His vision tunneled in and the only thing he was aware of in the dark tunnel of his conscious thought was the leg of chicken and the screaming growl in the pit of his belly. He closed his eyes and practiced the act of clearing he had been taught by Old Magla. It was a spell of visualization, one where he would clear his thoughts with the image of a white sheet of best spun silk, on which the symbol for serenity was embroidered. This was Janos sheet, others had their own. He was always on a hill, the sheet full of strong breeze, so much so his face would cool from its caress. This he did, the sound of the wind filling his ears, his sheet forming and shining with the gold emblem. Jano was able to walk back through the doorway with his eyes closed and when he felt the
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stones beneath his feet he opened his eyes and saw that the room was empty. His hunger subsided but was there all the same. The dog rubbed against his legs in much the way a friend pats your shoulder when expressing his pleasure. A single gong sounded once. For the first time, Jano heard sounds, the sounds of soft voices, a bird sang in the Walnut tree on the east wall, the dog took his hand in its mouth and pulled him forward. ***** The fog was grey as only it can be when forming over water. The sea ahead seemed to open under its blanket and all sounds were a dull thud of their normal selves. For the past five days the ship had plied northward through the Inner Set and out into the Handor Sea. She was a clipper, not an island hopper like Elvira, designed to travel distance in single legs, something that was needed to reach Nor Land shores. Dannid was within himself on the most part. He was filled with a sense of loss for he knew that the boy he had left on the busy docks of the Mid Lands would never return. He knew that Janos time was already set and the boy would need to be a man as quickly as was possible. What this meant for Jano he was not sure except to say that he knew it was not something he would figure in. No, more was the point, Dannid felt charged with a task. Since his encounter with the Constables he was aware of a shift in the fabric that was Sinterlands way. He could not put his finger on it directly but he knew that it was not a good thing; it meant a return to times long since left. In the day between Janos leaving and Dannids departure from the port he had made it his business to do a little reconnoitring and he was not happy with what he saw. All around the port and the city thereabouts were signs of rough men and soldiery. Supporters of various Inner Set clans all forming bands to swagger about and cause more than their fair share of trouble in both their interaction with one and other and the citizenry in the middle. Dannid felt the tension, the unease. He felt the struggle for power and as he knew only too well, with all such struggle, came war. What this war would be and whom it would be with was not clear to him but he knew that his decision those months prior to travel to the north to meet with the Kentish people was the correct one. If there was to be war, so be it. Dannid had no truck with the concept in its own right, more so it was his want to do his bit to make sure that whatever war there was; was kept within the rules. The concept of rules in war would seem a strange thing to any one not aware of Sinterlands history and ways, but rules there were. Since the time of the thirty-seven tribes, many conflicts had occurred. These had been both grand and small and had, over the centuries proceeding, shaped the structure of the world that was the now and then. Dannids very existence as a Roamer was a direct result of this. His forebears had all supported and been supported by the Yatomin house, long since gone, having been defeated during the forty-year
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wars, the great conflict that saw their removal from power and their self-imposed exile to the harsh Kentish Isles. The Roamers were a mixed band in Sinterland culture. It was safe to say that with little or no civil unrest for over one hundred and fifty years; their existence had become anachronistic to say the least. They all shared one thing in common. At a time past, they or their forebears had decided not to serve a new lord at the defeat of their own. This particular concept of honour was well established in the mores of the people of the land although many a swaggering vagabond with tenuous lineage back to grander periods had done the concept more harm than good in recent times. Dannid was an exception in that he was dedicated to the ways of the warrior. He had to admit, with more than a little trepidation, that the poor examples of trumped-up farts he had observed throwing their weight around in the port city left him feeling very low. Having said that, he also realized that this war was going to be best served by warriors, not tavern bullies, and he swore renewed dedication to traveling north and offering his services to better the forces of the Kentish Lords. Something he was committed to do through the direct dependency of his line and their dishonour at the defeat they suffered those many years before. Dannid was not a man of violence. He was a warrior. The art of war was not a credo of violence per se, and he was going to do his damnedest to make sure it did not become so.
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CHAPTER NINE
Jano awoke in the shade of the tree. The old dog lay beside him and the afternoon sun sat heavy on the horizon. He sat up and looked around. It was as before, an old wall in an old part of the town, the whole damn thing a little worse for wear. He was confused. The images of that other place still forming his conscious thought yet it must have been a dream. He felt a light thud on his shin as the old fellows tail lazily hit against it. A group of young men were walking from the west down towards them. They were dressed in dark grey habits and looked like acolyte monks on their way to vespers. Jano sprang to his feet and walked towards the group; the dog walked a pace behind and kept speed with him. Perhaps now things would be put right for these fellows would surely be members of the school. As he got closer he could see that the group numbered five and that they seemed to move behind the fellow taking the lead. Immediately Jano could sense the order, he has always been able to do so, at least since he could remember. More so he noted that their dress, although similar in cut, was spread across a range of quality that would have seemed to have displayed different tailors and largely different purses to pay them. The leader was a blond-haired boy a little older than the rest and possibly a year or two more than Jano. The others spread downwards to the youngest at the back seeming to Jano to be little more than a child, still, for a fleeting second he remembered the day he left home to go with Magla; he was little more than a child. Jano raised his hand in the open friendship of the Sou Reaches and was a little amazed that the response from the fellows did not following suit. The leader had a look about him, one Jano could remember from their meeting with the Constables all those weeks prior, a look of an assured satisfaction in a place being there for a person regardless of their worth. The leader walked up to Jano and stopped a little less than a distance acceptable by Sou Reach standards. Jano did the right thing and stepped back but was pursued by the gang. Who are you? asked the leader; curt and with a hint of the superiority of any bully in retinue. Jano felt the muzzle of the old dog rub against his calf, removing his anger as quickly as it began. Lowering his eyes in a supplication he was less than happy having to show, he replied that he was looking for the School Of The Right, which brought a rough laugh from the group. The School you say the bully now crossed his arms across his chest in a self-satisfied way now what could a country bumpkin like you want at the School? He prodded Jano in his chest as he said this, causing Jano to move backwards again. The old dog followed, gently rubbing his muzzle across the nape of Janos knee; once again a foil for any anger that may have been brewing. Jano said nothing and kept his head dropped; even so he was taller than the leader. The group now laughed aloud at the amazing humour of the blond fellow. He grabbed the scruff of Janos shirt.
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I am Raymand Desmon, son of Roland, lieutenant of the Crimarion Guard! He paused a moment as if the very words should make Jano wilt like some wildflower in the heat of high summer. Jano said and did nothing. As if to add bluster to the affair Desmon continued. I am a 1st level acolyte of the Orrin Sect and have no interest in the befuddled dreams of old men and country bound fools! The group all concurred with this; in much the way here-heres follow the ramblings of Senators in Council, there for support but with little or no substance. He shoved Jano, catching him unawares and causing him to stumble over the old dog, falling back and hitting his head on the rock border forming the gutter on the dusty road. Jano felt the thud as much as heard it and immediately his consciousness started to slip. In his dim vision he saw the foot of the fellow swipe at and kick the old dog viciously in the chest and then turn back towards him. As he pulled himself into a ball, the way Dannid had taught him to all those years before, he heard the sound of a strong voice coming from up the road. It roared through his haze and caused Jano to revive somewhat. Stop this moment you hooligans! It demanded and Jano could see the group move back in a start. The leader quickly moved back amongst his throng, Jano noting him pushing one of the others in front of him. Do you need to kick dogs and fight five on one to show the world the power of the Orrin Set? Jano could hear the shuffling of feet and caught a glimpse of the blue robes as they moved past him. The voice was coming from a short fat man. Jano could not see his face but his build was obvious as it filled the dark cotton of outer garments. Perhaps at this time the leader had finished his calculations regarding the thems and uss and found a voice that had deserted him a moment back. What is it to do with you little man? We are not answerable to you or any of your old blue suits. The group formed a ring around the fellow and seemed ready to strike. Jano stumbled to his feet and lunged at the leader. He took him around the neck and moved his body weight into the crook of his left side. The momentum had them both toppling sideways with the other boy squeaking like a farm yard hen as he fell with Janos weight on top of him. Jano landed on top of the leader and felt the wind leave him as his elbow ground into his solar plexus. Now, with their champion winded and rolling on the gravel of the path, the group seemed to shrink in stature, another phenomenon Jano had experience on the road to here and now; remove the leader and the pack is nobbled. The short fat man laughed gently and took a swipe at the arse of the nearest example of Orrins finest young stock. His foot landed squarely in the centre of the target and the rest ran off down the road towards the corner.
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The man walked over to Jano and put his arm around his shoulder. Nothing was said, although Jano heard are you alright my young friend and he nodded in amazement. The fellow radiated a smile as he turned and walked back to the old dog laying on his side in distress. He shook his head and gently lifted the dog, Jano noted that the old fellow did not make a sound, although he knew he must be in pain, and the man in blue walked back towards the old wooden door. Come on lad if youre coming he said out loud, not looking around and for a moment reminding Jano of Dannid with one of his off-hand invitations. Jano started to walk away from the scene. The leader was still fighting for breath and the group was mustering at the corner, now skulking back towards their fallen comrade. Ill get you country boy he heard in a windless voice. Jano turned and for a second he shone like fresh steel, the leader cowered away and Jano replied Perhaps you will; who would know? ***** The inside of the compound was not the way Jano remembered from his dream. This was real, the space was normal, not the flowing lands he had visited prior. All around were simple constructions forming various buildings from the humblest out house through to a large establishment that must have formed the school proper. The buildings were built following an exact architectural design and Jano could see that it was virtually impossible to tell anyone from the other. Further, there was no feeling of age as all appeared the same. Each was built with an exposed wooden frame supporting a shingled roof and the gaps in the frame were filled with straw-coloured clay bricks with lead-light windows at regular intervals and large tall doors. Each building was joined to the others by paths of crushed white rock and simple gardens of the plainest blooms gave colour in an unpretentious way. He could feel the simplicity of the place; the serenity was immediate. A group approached the man and the dog and fussed around them. They were young men of various ages and were dressed in simple brown robes and sandals made of a platted reed. Jano could see they had none of the finery of the group he had just left and their heads were all shaved so finely they shone in the late afternoon light. The short man turned and beckoned Jano forward. As he did two of the older boys gently took the old dog from him and walked away with him down the path and disappeared from sight behind the nearest building. All around people appeared, many in the brown robes of the entourage surrounding his new-found benefactor, a number in the same blue as the fat man and in the distance, one or two in the richest of yellows. He put his hand on a young boys shoulder.
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Amin, take our friend to the kitchens and see he is fed. Find a place and settle him in the novices chambers. He then turned and walked off with the balance of the group in train leaving the deputy standing in front of Jano. Come on friend he said without further ado and ran off, causing Jano to break stride to keep up and leading him off through a network of the paths; after a minute or two Jano realized that this was a big area. After all he had walked around in earlier that day and, although not the place of his dream, a large area all the same. They were working their way away from the more formal buildings. Through a network of smaller huts and the like, past a large quadrangle surrounded by rooms that opened out onto it with large wooden shutters that opened upwards to form a roof for the wooden walkway around the area. Finally they reached a set of three long buildings at the rear of those surrounding the quadrangle. All around was a garden with wonderful old trees and grassed areas. Jano could smell the aromas of meals being cooked and he immediately felt the hunger from before. He had not eaten since that morning and it felt like a week. Amin turned and waved his arm for him to catch up. Jano would learn that Amin had one speed and it never changed. In all the years he would know him he would always be following behind as Amin ran. Today was just the first time. The young mans smile filled his face; his jet black skin making him look as handsome as Jano would ever think another man could look. Come on he teased and disappeared into a side door. Jano was introduced to the cook who was overseeing the kitchen. It was a far cry from where he had breakfasted but the food was wonderful none the less. All the time Amin sat and chatted with Jano who was considering the number of people he had come to know since this strange adventure had begun. In the normal life of a Sou Reach man he might expect to meet one or two strangers and these usually replaced some outside trader and would stop being a stranger with the next visit. Jano had had all that changed of late and he considered for the first time the true cost of having friends; the time it takes to treat each one to a bit of ones self.
The room was a rectangle with exposed wooden beams and polished floors. It catered for sixteen and at the end furthest from the door a separate room housed a series of baths that were fed warm water by a system of pipes and channels from large reservoirs heated by the kitchen fires.
The heat of the day rested itself into the evening. All around the compound butter lamps shimmered in the twilight of the equatorial dusk. Amin had found a place for Jano to bed and made sure that a clean bed roll was placed near the old wooden box that marked his area in the large communal dormitory.
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*****
Jano was in marvel of such contraptions and inventions. In the reaches a hot bath was a ritual that required hours of preparation, here, it was available on demand and Jano had taken the time to avail himself of this simple luxury. Outside the window in the south wall of the bath room fireflies danced with each other and the night songs lulled him gently. If Amin had not entered when he did, Jano would have surrendered completely and been asleep. Amin helped him out of the bath and offered a soft towel of rough cotton to dry himself with and Jano dressed into one the brown robes Amin had gotten out of the wooden box near the bed roll he was to use. Young men started to dribble into the dormitory and each offered Jano their welcome in a warmhearted manner. The new comers prepared for their baths and Jano and Amin moved out into the cooler air of the large room. Amin busied himself showing Jano how to unroll the bedding and as he lay down Jano was surprised how comfortable it really was. Perhaps the past weeks of sleeping rough in foreign and sometimes hostile places had caused a degree of uncomfort but here he felt excepted; he felt at home. Master has said he will see you in the morning. Amin waited for Jano to acknowledge him, he could see the tiredness in the boys eyes. Thank you Amin. Jano rested on his elbow and looked Amin in the eye. The other could sense that, with Jano, what would have been a platitude in most others really meant thank you. With a little luck then, tomorrow I will learn my fate. He yawned. Amin lent his head to one side, a characteristic Jano would learn as he keened his friends nuances that meant he was confused by the question or comment. What do you mean learn your fate Jano? He asked head still askew. Why, whether I will be accepted by the school he pondered for words to explain how he felt as he lay there, tired and road sore and missing everything he could miss that made his life his and kept him safe, whether all of this will mean anything in the scheme of things. With that the young black face transformed into a white-toothed grin that seemed to fill the room with light. Are you mad man, to be in; why you are in. he laughed and continued between chuckles, no one gets through the gate, or even sees it unless they are accepted. He continued to smile at his fellow student. You have arrived Jano of the Sou Reaches, you are now a student of the School Of The Right. But Amin may as well have been talking to the wall. Jano was asleep.
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Jano - The Journey Begins - Book 1

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CHAPTER ONE

Jano The Journey Begins - Page

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