Выбрать главу

But Paithan had taken precautions against being robbed.

Quintin (an elf who had been with the family since Paithan was a baby) had packed the baskets by hand, and only he and Paithan knew what really lay beneath the dolls and sailing ships and jack-in-the-boxes. The human slaves, whose duty it was to guide the tyros, thought they were carrying a load of toys for tots, not the deadlier toys of grown men.

Secretly, Paithan considered it all an unnecessary nuisance. Quindiniar weapons were high quality, a cut above those of ordinary elven manufacture. The owner of a Quindiniar railbow had to be given a special code word before he could activate the magic, and only Paithan had this information, which he would pass on to the buyer. But Calandra was convinced that every human was a spy, a thief, and a murderer just waiting to rob, rape, pillage, and plunder. Paithan had tried to point out to his sister that she wasn’t being rational—she gave the humans credit for a phenomenal and cunning intellect on one hand, while maintaining that they were little better than animals on the other.

“Humans really aren’t too different from us, Cal,” Paithan had said on one memorable occasion.

He had never tried that logic again. Calandra had been so alarmed by this liberal attitude that she had seriously considered forbidding him to venture again into human lands. The awful threat of having to stay home had been enough to silence the young elf on the subject forever.

The first stage of the journey was easy. Their only obstacle would be the Kithni Gulf, the large body of water that divided the elven and human lands, and that lay far to the vars. Paithan fell into the rhythm of the road, enjoying the exercise and the chance to be his own person once again. The sun lit the trees with jewellike tones of green, the perfume of myriad flowers scented the air, frequent small showers of rain cooled the warmth built up from walking. Sometimes he heard a slink or a slither alongside the path, but he didn’t pay much attention to the jungle wildlife. Having faced a dragon, Paithan decided he was equal to just about anything. But it was during this quiet time that the old man’s words began buzzing in his head. Doom will come back with you!

One time, when Paithan had been small, a bee had flown into his ear. The frantic buzzing the creature made had nearly driven him wild until his mother had been able to extricate it. Like that bee, Zifnab’s prophecy had become trapped inside Paithan’s skull, repeating itself over and over, and there seemed little he could do to rid himself of it. He tried shrugging it off, laughing. After all, the old man was leaky as a cracked gourd. But just when he had convinced himself, Paithan saw the wizard’s eyes—shrewd, knowing, and inexpressibly sad. It was the sadness that bothered Paithan, gave him a chill that his mother would have said came from someone standing on his grave. And that brought memories of his mother; Paithan also remembered that the old man had said that Mother wanted to see her children again.

The young elf felt a pang that was partly sweet, partly remorseful and uneasy. What if his father’s beliefs were true? What if Paithan could actually meet his mother after all these years? He gave a low whistle and shook his head.

“Sorry, Mama. Guess you wouldn’t be too pleased.” His mother had wanted him to be educated, she’d wanted all her children educated. Elithenia had been a factory wizardess when Lenthan Quindiniar saw her and lost his heart to her. Reputedly one of the most beautiful women in Equilan, Elithenia hadn’t been at ease among the high born of the land; a feeling Lenthan had never been able to understand.

“Your dresses are finer, my dear. Your jewels are more costly. What do these lords and ladies have that ranks them higher than the Quindiniars? Tell me, and I’ll go out today and buy it!”

“What they have, you can’t buy,” his wife had told him with wistful sorrow.

“What is it?”

“They know things.”

And she had been determined that her children would know tilings. To this end, she hired a governess to give her children schooling such as only the high born received. The children had proved a disappointment. Calandra, even at a young age, knew exactly what she wanted out of life and she took from the governess what she needed—the knowledge necessary to manipulate people and numbers. Paithan didn’t know what he wanted but he knew what he didn’t want—boring lessons. He escaped the governess when he could, dawdled his time away when he couldn’t. Aleatha, learning her powers early, smiled prettily, snuggled in the governess’s lap, and was never required to learn to do more than read and write. After their mother had died, their father kept the governess on. It had been Calandra who let the woman go, to save money, and that was the end of their schooling.

“No, Mother won’t be pleased to see us, I’m afraid,” Paithan mused, feeling unaccountably guilty. Realizing what he’d been thinking, he laughed—somewhat shamefacedly—and shook his head. “I’ll be getting daft as poor Father if I don’t cut it out.”

To clear his mind and rid it of unwelcome memories, Paithan climbed up on the horns of the lead tyro and began to chat with the overseer—an elf of much sense and worldly experience. It wasn’t until sorrowtime that night, the first cycle following torrent’s hour, that Paithan would again think of Zifnab and the prophecy—and then only right before he fell asleep.

The journey to Estport, the ferry landing, was peaceful, without incident, and Paithan forgot the prophecy completely. The pleasure of traveling, the heady awareness of his freedom after the stifling atmosphere of home lifted the young elf’s spirits. After a few cycles on the road, he could laugh heartily at the old man and his crazy notions, and he regaled Quintin with tales of Zifnab during their rest breaks. When they finally arrived at the Kithni Gulf, Paithan could hardly believe it. The trip had seemed far too short. The Kithni Gulf is a huge lake that forms the border between Thillia and Equilan, and here Paithan encountered his first delay. One of the ferries had broken down, leaving only one in operation. Caravans were lined up all along the moss shore, waiting to cross.

Upon their arrival, Paithan sent the overseer to find out how long they would have to wait. Quintin returned with a number that marked their place in line and said that they might be able to cross over some time the following cycle. Paithan shrugged. He wasn’t in any particular hurry, and it appeared that people were making the best of a bad situation. The ferry landing had come to resemble a tent city. Caravaners strode about, visiting, trading news, discussing current trends in the marketplace. Paithan saw his slaves settled and fed, his tyros petted and complimented, and the baggage secure. Leaving everything in the capable hands of the overseer, the young elf left to join in the fun.

An enterprising elven farmer, hearing of the plight of the caravanners, had hastened down to the landing with several barrels of homemade vingin packed in a wagon, cooled by ice.[18] Vingin is a strong drink made of crushed grapes, fortified by a liquid derived from fermented tohahs. Its fiery taste is favored by elves and humans alike. Paithan was particularly fond of it and, seeing a crowd gathered around the barrel, he joined them. Several old friends of Paithan’s were among the crowd, and the young elf was welcomed with enthusiasm. Caravanners get to know each other on the trail, sometimes banding together for both safety and companionship. Humans and elves alike made room for Paithan and a cool, frothy mug was thrust into his hand.

“Pundar, Ulaka, Gregor, good to see you again.” The elf greeted long-time associates and was introduced to those he didn’t know. Seating himself on a crate next to Gregor—a large, redheaded human with a bristling beard—Paithan sipped his vingin and took a brief moment to be thankful Calandra couldn’t see him.

вернуться

18

Ice does not occur naturally in any of the known lands of Pryan. It came into common use after its discovery through human magical experiments on weather. Ice is one of the few products made by humans that is in demand in elven lands.