7
Until the soldier — the same one who had shown him kindness — pulled back the covering and gestured to him, Jay travelled in near darkness. Not a single person had so much as said a word to him. Competing emotions had beset him throughout the journey. Fear, of course. Boredom. Resentment. Finally, a burning, desperate curiosity. Just on the other side of the canvas were wonders such as he had never seen before. Forests, woods, houses, mountains — who knew what was there to be looked at? He tried to pull up a piece of the covering so he could see out, but it was too thick and strong. He dreamed of a daring escape, but it was pointless even to try.
Then he emerged into the fading light of an early evening, with a fresh wind in contrast to the smelly, sweltering heat of the wagon, which he had endured in glum silence.
‘Come and sit by me, and keep your mouth shut,’ the soldier said. Jay hurried to obey in case he changed his mind, and squeezed himself down besides the man’s impressive bulk. He looked around and gasped. Not in astonishment or wonder, but in surprise. There was nothing much to see that was very different from his home.
‘Where are we?’ he began.
The soldier shook his head. ‘I said shut up. It means be quiet. Keep your mouth closed. Say nothing. Silence. Do you understand?’
Jay nodded.
‘I will talk. You will not. Agreed?’
Jay nodded again.
‘That’s good. Because there is not much time. We will arrive in an hour or so. Are you frightened?’
Jay opened his mouth to speak, saw the look on the soldier’s face, then nodded for a third time.
‘Do you know what is going to happen to you?’
He shook his head.
‘Thought not. It seems a shame to be scared for no reason. So I’ll tell you what I’ve heard. Okay?’
Another nod.
The soldier grunted. ‘You see? You can do it when you try. Right then. You are going to Ossenfud to be a student.’
Jay looked at him curiously.
‘You don’t even know what that is? Very well. A student is someone who learns. What you learn depends on your teacher, but it takes years and years, and the best become Storytellers.’
Jay could no longer contain himself. ‘A Storyteller! Me?’
‘I said the best. Storytellers need years of discipline and immense knowledge and intelligence. They must commit everything to memory and be able to summon it all as required. They are the custodians of the past and the shapers of the future. Does that sound like you?’
Jay shook his head.
‘Precisely. You may become a keeper of accounts, or something like that. Lower, but still important. That’s more like it. The thing is, you were chosen. By that Storyteller himself. Henary, his name is. That’s very unusual.’
‘Why?’
‘That’s not how it’s done, usually. As the Visitors and Storytellers go around the country, they keep an eye open for people. Young, trainable. Generally they are recommended. Someone exceptionally smart. They’ll be noticed by a mayor or a chief. They’ll be questioned, tested. Then chosen. That’s not the way it was with you. Something you must have said or done — and don’t ask me what, because I would have just given you a good thrashing and sent you back to your mother — must have persuaded Henary that you were just such a kid.’
‘But I can’t do anything. I know a bit about blacksmithing.’
‘You will be taught. Don’t think it will be fun. Long hours, hard work, sitting at a desk all day every day. You’ll wish you were back in the fields. Most people couldn’t stand it. I certainly couldn’t. You can have the power and the glory if you have to become a wizened, half-blind creature with a bent back to get it. Not for me.’
‘Who are you? I’m sorry, but I really don’t know much.’
‘Just a soldier. I come from Willdon, about three days’ march from here. Every settlement sends soldiers to act as guards to the scholars, for a while. I’ll be done soon, and then I’ll go back to work in the forests again. It’s too complicated to explain. You’ll know in due course. You’ll know more than me, and I’ll be asking you questions.’
‘I doubt it.’
‘I doubt you’ll answer.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you don’t. You people.’
You people. Jay found it confusing. Until three days ago, someone like the soldier sitting beside him would have been impossibly grand and powerful. Someone Jay would naturally have addressed as ‘sir’, with a bow. Yet here he was, talking almost as though they were equals. Already he could feel an even greater change; but what it meant his young mind could not begin to grasp.
‘I’ll answer you. What’s your name?’
‘Callan. Son of Perel.’
‘Callan Perelson, then. When we meet, whoever I become, you will be my friend, and I will answer your questions.’
Callan looked touched by this naivety. ‘Thank you. You will forgive me if I say I don’t believe you.’
‘No,’ said Jay a little sadly. ‘No, I won’t forgive you.’
Jay had never seen a town before, and the city of Ossenfud, where the scholars lived, was fairly large. About six thousand souls lived there most of the year, although this number fluctuated according to the seasons. It was settled on a river, and was approached by four roads, one coming from each of the points of the compass. Unusually, outlying buildings were scattered along these roads, up to a mile away from the city proper.
So many houses, so many people, the clattering of the cart over roads paved with stones, everything made Jay tremble with excitement. Even more alarming was when they stopped outside a vast building of unimaginable magnificence.
‘Here we are, then,’ Callan said cheerfully. ‘Home, sweet home. East College, where Scholar Henary is, and where you will be until either you are finished or they throw you out.’
He eased himself down to the ground and waited. ‘If you think I’m going to carry your bag for you, you’re mistaken,’ he called up.
Jay searched for the pathetic little sack which contained everything he owned in the world: two shirts, two pairs of trousers, one pair of clogs and one pair of shoes, his pride and joy. Also a piece of carved wood his uncle had once given him. Nothing else. At least the bag was light.
Then he, too, jumped down and found that Callan was talking to a young man who had stopped to watch. Jay wondered whether it was good manners to go up and join them, and decided to play safe. He listened intently, nonetheless.
‘I’m surprised to see you here,’ Callan was saying.
‘Oh, domain business. Someone had to come and I offered. A little change, you know.’ He pointed at Jay. ‘What’s that you’ve got there?’
‘Henary found him. Asked me to deliver him here.’
The young man crooked his finger, so Jay obediently approached.
‘A find by Scholar Henary? You are a lucky boy. I hope you realise that?’
He was a tall and finely dressed young man, perhaps ten years or so older than Jay was, but decades away in manner and self-possession. Jay noticed that he talked to the grizzled soldier with familiarity, even amusement, as though he was doing him some sort of favour. Jay was now even more confused.
‘Well, I will not keep you. I hope your service will end soon and you will return to your old place, Callan Perelson. Our trees miss you badly.’
‘I miss them. I will return soon enough.’
The young man nodded and walked away. Callan grunted.
‘Who was that?’
‘The nephew of Lord Thenald. A grand fellow, don’t you think? Actually, not a bad young man, but a little too aware of his name. Still, he has a sense of fairness and decency, which is valuable in these days.’